Chapter Text
Joy was going to be the death of her.
“It’s just a small gathering,” Jae began, flustered, bouncing Aerion on her hip as he wailed in protest.
“No,” her little sister snapped, folding her arms tight across her chest. For good measure, she lifted her muddy boots and propped them up on Jae’s birchwood table, wet grass clinging to the soles. Jae felt something in her brain twitch.
“It’ll be just ten people. And you can choose from them. Any you like—”
“No,” Joyce cut her off again. Her brows knitted together like storm clouds, defiant and unmoved.
The scent of milk and linen hung thick in the room, mingled with Aerion’s endless fussing. His little fists beat against Jae’s bodice as he writhed in her arms, red-faced and shrieking. His crying was going to drive her to madness.
“Do you mean to die an old maid?” Jae started pacing, the nursery around her blurring in and out of focus.
“Correction,” Joy drawled, slouching deeper into her seat, “I mean to die an old knight.”
Jae’s scoff came at the same moment Luce laughed. Her sister lay sprawled out on the cushioned settee beside the cradle a spectating goddess in Targaryen blacks.
“I’d love to see you joust in the lists,” she chirped. “You’d knock every man flat on his arse.”
“Exactly where they belong.” A smile quirked her little sister's lips.
“Don’t encourage her,” Jae shot Luce a glare, before peering at Joy. “You’re eight-and-ten now, love. Well past the time for a betrothal.”
“I’m well past the time for you to nag me as well, and yet here we are.”
A groan left her lips, the pressure in her temples rising with each second. “Ugh, Joy. Please, be reasonable. Both Mother and I are willing to give you your choice of suitors—any man in the realm. No maiden gets that kind of privilege.”
It almost wasn’t fair. Jae herself had been promised to Aegon before her moonblood had even come. Ten years old, and shackled to a boy she couldn’t stand. It was luck alone that they’d found contentment with one another. If the gods had been crueler, she would’ve spent her life chained to misery.
“And I already told you who I’m choosing,” Joy declared, rising from her chair. “Myself. I’ve no desire to wed. I don’t want to be someone’s bride, or bear them children.”
Aerion seized her laces again, tugging them into his gummy mouth. Jae pinched the bridge of her nose.
“You know as well as I do that’s not possible.”
“No, you just don’t want it to be.”
Her sister straightened the buckles of her riding leathers, jaw clenched—defiant to the last.
-Still a child.
Despite having grown and changed, become a maiden as lovely as Mother ever was in her youth, her sister still frowned like a little girl—that same petulant demon who would sling porridge at Jae whenever she was displeased.
“You surrendered to your fate like a craven. You didn’t fight, didn’t argue, just bent your neck and called it love. Well, I won’t. I won’t lie to myself or anyone else. I already said I won’t do this. And if you want to force me…” she looked Jae dead in the eye, “you better be prepared for a fight.”
And with that, Joyce turned on her heel and stalked from the chamber, slamming the heavy door behind her. The iron hinges shrieked in protest, making Aerion answer with a wail of his own.
Jae bounced him more vigorously, her head pounding like a hammer.
“She’ll be the death of us,”
Luce rolled her eyes, moving to rise from the settee. “What did you expect? She was always like this. A wild little hellbeast who did exactly as she pleased.”
Jae huffed a tired breath. “Yes, well… I thought she’d change when she grew. Gods, she used to be so smitten with Daeron. Do you remember?”
Luce barked a short laugh. “How could I forget such a… sweet thing.”
Sweet—though the more appropriate word would have been baffling. Joyce had trailed behind Daeron like a duckling the summer he’d come up from Oldtown, all silver curls and pale purple eyes. She’d hung on his every word, laughed at all his terrible jests, and flushed as bright as a poppy whenever he so much as glanced her way.
Overnight, it had seemed, her stubborn little sister had turned soft—almost docile—like the gods had remembered she was a girl and decided to make her act accordingly.
“Yes,” with a huff, Luce lifted herself to her feet, and marched toward her, arms extended,. “And then he went and got smitten with Lord Tarly’s oldest daughter, and her little fancy died.”
Jae passed her Aerion without a word, shuddering in relief when his weight disappeared from her arms. Gods, had he grown heavy. And fussy. Aelora had been leagues easier to handle, and twice as obedient.
It made her feel tired—tired and afraid. Like she was doing it wrong, failing at Motherhood when she should have known better.
“That was years ago. Daeron was older, and she was just a child.”
“It still hurt,” Luce countered. She moved to bounce Aerion, brushing a kiss to his crown of silver wisps. His whining quieted into soft, contented coos almost immediately, and Jae swallowed a fresh wave of envy. Luce always had that effect—on people, on animals, on babes. She made Motherhood look like a breeze, with her own children hanging on her every word.
It was vexing.
“She decided love was a trap,” her sister continued. “And that we were the fools for falling into it.”
She scoffed. "We didn’t fall into anything.”
Luce's gaze wandered to the bundle in her arms. “Didn’t we?”
Bitterness rose in her throat. That was daft. All Jae had done was make the best of her circumstances. Yes, being a mother could be a terrible, exhausting thing, almost as much as being Queen consort. But it was rewarding as well—wasn’t it?
“Mayhaps Daeron could speak to her.” She pivoted instead, not wishing to ponder the intricacies of love and matrimony. “When he comes. Just to clear the air. It might help her… warm to the notion of a betrothal.”
Luce wrinkled her nose. “All that will warm her to is the thought of skewering him like a pig.”
Jae blinked. “It’s been years, Luce.”
“Yes, six years and ten times more resentment."
“Daeron’s changed.” She insisted. “He’s been wed and widowed. And the way Tyshara died… it was vile. I think he’s still grieving.”
In truth, she'd not known the girl much. A wispy thing with flaxen hair and green eyes, she'd come to court only once to visit her uncle Tyland, and had not left a good impression.
That did not mean Jae didn’t pity her.
Daeron had wed her a few months after turning eight and ten, per his Mother's instruction—and called himself her husband for only half a day. On the eve of his wedding feast, his golden bride was struck down by a bit of pie crust that had lodged in her throat and a panicked maester too slow to save her. It was a tragedy straight out of a fool’s tale. And yet it had left Daeron hollowed, if his letters were anything to go by. He wrote of ghosts and sleepless nights, of the Rock’s red halls closing in around him.
Of needing to come home—start anew.
“Aemond says he’s fleeing Jason Lannister more than his memories,” Luce added after a beat. “The man won’t stop harassing him to wed the other daughter in Tyshara's stead.”
“Cersei, yes, I heard” Jae said with a shudder. “Poor man.”
If Tyshara was said to be difficult, her younger sister was ten times worse. A spoiled, petulant firebrand who thought herself deserving of the world. Exactly the opposite of Daeron’s gentle fire.
“Regardless, this could be a chance.” Jae declared. “For them to set aside old grievances and start anew.”
Luce squinted. “I’ve yet to see Joy show an ounce of desire for a fresh start. All I see is her picking more fights.”
She closed her eyes. Aerion squealed, as if in agreement, and Luce pinched the bridge of his little nose.
“Why is this family like this?” Jae groaned aloud.
Just then, the nursery door creaked open.
The light from the hallway spilled across the threshold, followed by a shadow.
Aegon swept into the chamber like a tempest, hair was tousled, his doublet half-unlaced, a brow quirked upward as he took in the scene.
He blinked. “Did I miss a war?”
“Only the start of one,” Luce murmured.
Aegon snorted. "I’ve told you both, there’s no speaking sense to Joy. The only way you’re getting her before the Father’s altar is in chains.”
Luce made a face. “Only if you volunteer to fetter her yourself.”
That got a bark of laughter from him. “Gods, no. I enjoy having all my limbs.”
He wandered further into the chamber, glancing about as if searching for something. His gaze landed on Aerion, then flitted past him, brows drawing together. “Where’s Aelora? Ser Erryk said she was supposed to be here, visiting with Aerion?”
“She’s at her lessons,” Jae crossed her arms. “With Grand Maester Munkun.”
“Again?” Aegon’s mouth dropped open in theatrical horror. “Seven hells. Do you mean to scramble her mind?”
“She needs them,” she insisted. “Her sums are poor and her reading is worse. She’s clever, but she requires structure.”
Aegon rolled his eyes. "Browbeating her into it won’t make her learn any faster.”
Luce snorted. “You would know.”
He turned a withering look her way. “Why are you here, exactly? Shouldn’t you be in my brother’s bed, spitting out his one hundredth demon spawn?”
Her laugh was musical, maddeningly unbothered. “It’s so sweet of you to want another niece or nephew to spoil.”
Aegon gave a high-pitched snort. “Yes, because we certainly don’t have enough Aemonds running around.”
Still laughing, Luce moved to pass Aerion to her. Naturally, the moment he was out of her embrace, the little demon began fussing again, his pudgy fingers reaching greedily for Luce's laces.
Jae groaned.
Luce only smirked. “I’ll be off, then. Aemond should be back from the pit soon with the twins and Maekar.”
Jae gave her sister a halfhearted grunt of approval before resuming her rhythmic bounce.
“We’ll see each other at supper?” Luce smiled, then leaned to kiss her cheeks.
“If I can get this one to cease fussing,” Jae adjusted, narrowly avoiding a little fist to the breast.
Luce wagged her fingers at the babe. “Farewell, little terror.”
Aegon followed after her, calling in a sing-song voice, “Yes, yes, thank you for your visit. Go reign in your spawn. And tell me brother to cease trying to put more of them in you!”
He slammed the door behind her, whirling on his heel with a gleam in his eye.
“Well, seeing as El isn’t about to go ride Sunfyre with me, I suppose I’ll just have to find another use for my spare time.”
Jae arched a brow. She knew that look well. Too well. “Of course you will. But I regret to inform you that I’m not available. Your son is still acting far too much like your son at present.”
Aegon’s grin faltered as he glanced at Aerion. The babe was now actively beating at Jae’s chest, every mewl louder and more indignant than the last.
“We’re still using that as an insult, I see,” he sighed. Dragging a hand down his face, he moved toward her to relieve her of the menace. "Come here, you little demon.”
Aerion let out a soft coo the moment he was lifted, nuzzling into Aegon’s shoulder.
“Have you been giving your poor mother trouble again?”
Jae rolled her eyes, but said nothing as Aegon began to sway gently.
“How devious of you. And not very kind to her. Or me. We just want five minutes. Five whole minutes of peace and quiet so we can enjoy one another's company. So what do you say, lad? Want to help your Keppa out?”
Aerion cooed again, slower this time, his breaths beginning to even out.
Aegon inched toward the cradle, lowering the babe with a carefulness that belied his reckless nature. He hovered for a beat after, watching for the slightest twitch, the tiniest whimper.
To Jae’s fury—and reluctant awe—Aerion did not stir. He simply settled, puffing slow, rhythmic breaths into the linens.
“Well,” Aegon tossed her a smirk. “That’s what I thought.”
Jae grimaced
“I hate you."
“Oh enough to tie me up and strike me for a bit?” in two quick strides he was on her, pulling her in to shower her cheeks with kisses. Jae sighed and smiled against herself, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.
“He never wants to go to sleep when I try to put him down.”
“That’s because I’m his favorite person, and he knows my touch is magic.” he breathed before taking her lips in between his in a long, lingering kiss. Jae whacked his shoulder in protest.
“Oh that’s funny. Well, seeing as you’re so eager, mayhaps you should nanny him to pass the time instead.”
A whine left his mouth. “Come on, just five minutes. It’s been ages.”
“No it hasn’t. It’s been a few weeks since he was born.”
Aegon paused, pulling back to deadpan at her. “Six months, two weeks and five days.”
Jae blinked. “Oh. Has it?”
Given how wound up Aerion was making her, it felt like years had passed—or minutes. Endless, agonizing minutes, filled with naught save crying, spitting and soiling.
“I suppose I’m a bit foggy on time.”
Sighing, Aegon leaned in to kiss her again.
“Well, in that case, a distraction is most certainly mandatory.”
Snorting, she let him lead her out of the nursery, and to their adjacent apartments, clumsily struggling to shrug out of her clothes. When he corralled her atop the writing bureau, the hem of her skirts in his hand, she paused.
“No bed?” she murmured against his lips. “You do realize anyone can walk in and see us?”
Wrenching on her laces, he started to untangle the knots, each pull more frantic than the last.
“Oh good. We'll just tell them the Queen needed a fuck. To preserve her health and sanity.”
Snickering she pulled open his doublet, to untuck his tunic and take her nails over his belly. He responded straight away, his muscles spasming under her touch.
“Do you class yourself as medicine now?”
After forcing her skirt up to her hips, he greedily yanked on her small clothes.
“Am I wrong?” he declared. With a smirk, he wrenched aside her bodice and forced her chemise down. “Seven hells, look at this. I need to put children in you more often.”
He trailed his hands reverently over her hips, then her waist, ending just at her swollen breasts. She jolted, a twinge of discomfort coursing through her when his fingers brushed against her nipples.
“Only if you agree to gestate, birth and nurse them yourself. What did we say?”
He grimaced.
"Look but don’t touch, I know.” He corralled her back onto the table, adjusting her closer to the edge. “But we’ll still have more, no? A bit more weight would suit you.”
Unable to stop, she snorted. “I’m pleased to see your priorities are in order. And no, I think I’ve gotten fat enough as is.”
It wasn’t fair. She'd had breaks between Aelora and Aerion. And yet, despite that, she'd not quite managed to lose the weight she'd put on with both of them. None of it was too noticeable seeing as she was slender to begin with, but it discomforted her nonetheless. Especially since Luce seemed not to feel any adverse effects of childbirth.
She'd always been shapely, but rather than pregnancy making her as stout as it had their Mother, it only made her attributes grow in proportion, whilst the rest of her remained perfectly dainty. It was infuriating—like the Maiden herself had decided to make her into the paragon of both beauty and fertility, whilst Jae had to suffer with both a fussy babe, and thick hips.
Aegon seemed to mind precisely none of it.
“I beg to differ. There will be more of you to enjoy.”
She resisted the urge to squeal and pull away. His fingers waggled against her hipbone, sending gooseflesh to skate down her spine.
“Well, if you mean to enjoy it, then you wouldn’t object to us delaying children for another three years at least.”
She slipped her hand under the band of his breeches, smiling when she felt him jolt in response.
“Hm, yes, I suppose it would be lovely if we could sleep through the morn without someone screaming us awake.” He groaned, just as she seized his stiff manhood into her hand.
“Yes. It would also be lovely to fuck without anyone interrupting because they need to nurse.”
That made him laugh in earnest, as he snapped his hips into her grip.
“Well, when you put it like that—” he pulled her lips into another kiss, the heat of his breath making her head spin. It took all her sense to keep her focus—to stroke slowly, tll his breath stuttered, and his grip on her waist turned bruising.
Her teasing bored him rather quickly. Wrenching free, he pushed her to lie flat on the table whilst he knelt between her legs. She scarce had time to brace herself before he plunged, his tongue giving the seam of her nether lips a long, lingering lick.
Jae sank her nails into the wood beneath her. Gods. That was how she'd ended up with two children. All the fatigue and fussiness had made her forget he made it easy to spread her legs.
His fingers pulled her open, allowing his tongue invade. Each lick and suck was a spell, designed to turn her flesh to liquid. Before long, her thighs had fallen wide open of their own accord, dangling limply to the side.
“Don’t stop,” she murmured, her tongue tangling around each word. “Don’t stop, don’t—”
An involuntary moan swallowed her words, her legs bucking in anticipation. However before she could take that sweet plunge, his tongue vanished.
“What are you doing, put your head back down.” she snapped. She discovered him grinning, his lips glistening with her wetness.
“Oh no, we can’t have you do that just yet.”
Coming to hover over her, he fumbled between his legs. His laces hissed open, the outline of something big and hard appearing in her periphery. Before she could even blink, he was pushing inside her, that searing stretch sending ripples to shoot down her skin. Jae arched her back in response, seizing his forearm in a death grip as if that could give her some semblance of clarity.
“Oh seven hells, still tight aren’t you?” a groan left his lips, his brows furrowing in concentration.
She shifted her hips a bit, resisting the urge to giggle.
“All the more cause to hold off on that third child.”
That furrow between his brows grew determined. He snapped his hips into her hard, scattering her thoughts with one single thrust. Jae whined and shut her eyes, the haze taking her hostage.
He didn’t trouble himself with keeping his pace slow. He drove into her, hard and quick, each thrust more fevered than the last. She held onto him, moaning, whining, mewling unsure of which part of him she was eager to paw at more—his arms, waist, or his neck.
She hadn’t realized she was on the verge of crying out till his hand clamped over her mouth.
“As much as I’d enjoy having you scream, I’d rather not risk Aerion joining you.”
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, before planting a kiss into his palm.
“Slow and quiet now sweetling.” He rasped, pulling away. Her hand lashed for good measure, striking him on the cheek. The touch was light, scarce more than a teasing tap.
His brow arched nonetheless, his violet eyes darkening to a rich indigo.
“Do that again.”
She chortled,. She would never understand why he liked it when she struck him whilst they coupled—or why she was so eager to do it. She swung again, this time a bit more forcefully, just to get a good crack.
The grin on his lips turned perverse. He drove into her again, nestling himself inside her to the hilt. Her vision blurred at the edges. Her muscles clenching under the weight of her pleasure, her hand clamping over her mouth to stifle her cries. He followed suit not even a moment later, twitching inside her before going limp.
He collapsed his head right into her chest, his damp forehead pressing into her heart.
“Yes, we're certainly holding off on that third one. At least till I’ve fucked you every which way possible.”
Jae almost retorted how he had done that already, when grandsire had sent them to their little excursion to Dragonstone after their wedding. Those were good times— when Viserys was still alive and King, and she was just a Princess, free to fly around on dragonback, drinking and playing dice with Aegon in Sea Dragon tavern.
They’d done as they’d pleased with no one daring to reproach them their freedom—and at the risk of losing her mind, she would be happy to experience something similar again.
“Delighted. Provided you can get Aerion to stay this quiet for at least three months.”
Aegon propped his head up, resting his chin just below his collarbone.
“Oh come on, he's stayed quiet so far.”
The moment those words left his lips, she knew he'd invoked the wrath of the gods. A high pitched scream sounded from the adjacent chamber, demanding attention. Jae buried her face into her palms, trying to stifle her whines.
“No, no, no, why did you have to say that?”
Aegon's groan mirrored her own. “Well, I suppose I was being daft for tempting fate.”
“Gods, get off,” she hissed, swatting at him as she attempted to rise. “Martha! Martha, where are you?! Come!”
“Alright, calm down,” Aegon pulled away, tucking his now limp manhood into his breeches.
Jae slid off the table, rushing to take the wet cloth from the washbasin to clean herself.
“No, I’m done. I’ve tried to wrangle him by myself all morning. If he doesn’t wish to heed his mother, then his nurses can mind him in my stead.”
That only made the fool grin harder. Jae lashed, splashing some water at him to get him to stop.
“Earnestly Jace, calm yourself. No need to be so flustered. I’ll mind him for a bit.”
Jae deadpanned. “You can’t mind him, you have to attend the council.”
Aegon shrugged, ruffling his already ruffled hair. “You can attend in my stead.”
Her fingers paused their lacing.
“Are you certain your grandsire won't mind?”
If there was anything Otto Hightower liked, it was tradition and order. And order stated that a Queen was to busy herself with childrearing and court life, not matters of state.
He squinted at her. “What’s he going to do, chastise me for being a father? He can fuck off. You’re Consort. If I want to, I can appoint you my Regent for the day and he would be powerless to stop it.”
After tucking his undershirt into his breeches he rushed into the adjacent chamber to pick up Aerion. Jae dressed in haste, slowly shuffling into the nursery after him.
“Unless you tell me you don’t want to. In that case, he can handle today's meeting all on his own. It’s what I made him Hand for.” Aegon grumbled, as he pressed Aerion his chest to rhythmically sway.
Jae sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. In truth, he'd not appointed Otto Hightower to anything. He'd just been Hand when grandsire had passed, and had helped facilitate the peaceful transfer of power to Viserys' first born son and chosen heir. Him staying Hand was purely because Aegon was too lazy to replace him.
“I don’t, mind, just…” she paused. “It’s hard.”
Motherhood, queenship, life. This whole yolk of duty and expectation placed upon her shoulders to do everything, be everything all at once—the perfect Mother, the paragon of womanly virtue, a flawless Queen and elder sister.
It made her envy her own Mother. Rhaenyra had wed for love. She'd chosen her husband, left court to become Lady of Harrenhal, whilst heirship fell on the shoulders of Queen Alicent’s firstborn son.
She knew the idea to make her Aegon's future Queen was grandsire's—but some small part of her wished he had not burdened her so. That she and Aegon had fled across the Narrow Sea to live their own lives, enjoy their marriage and have children on their own terms, without having to fret whether she was rearing the future King correctly.
“We're holding off on that third one,” she reiterated, shuffling over to the vanity to start mending her mussed curls. “For now.”
“Or forever, if you want.” He declared, and she paused. Her gaze found his in the looking glass, and she studied his expression—the dark circles around his eyes, the wistful frown between his brows. He was missing their time alone as much as she was—if not more. The boy who was born to wear a crown but had never desired it.
Jae sighed, and discarded her brush with a dull clank.
“Or ever,” she agreed, wondering if Joy had been right.
Love was great, but marriage... mayhaps, marriage was a prison. In more ways than one.
And stubbornly trying to force her sister into it wasn't the right thing to do. Especially since she didn't have anyone she loved.
