Chapter Text
Childbirth truly is the greatest battle a woman can fight, and after seven children Lady Dyanna Dayne unfortunately lost to it. The sad thing is it wasn't a quick death where the child’s cord was still attached to the mother. The stranger came to Dyanna Dayne two years after the birth of her seventh child and third daughter, Princess Rhae.
The birth lasted two nights due to the baby being breech. Her husband, Prince Maekar, and her firstborn child, Princess Jaehaera, who was only 14 years old at the time, stood by her throughout the whole ordeal.
Princess Rhae was born in the early hours of the morning, crying loudly. Her elder sister bathed her in warm water as their mother was taken care of by the maesters and the midwives. Prince Maekar held his wife’s hand tightly and whispered encouraging words to her as the maester controlled the haemorrhage.
Recovery after the birth was longer than the others. You didn’t need to glance twice at Lady Dayne to see how the birth straightened her body.
The daughter of House Dayne didn’t look like the same lady she was when she wedded King Daeron’s fourth son years ago. Her toned skin turned ashy pale. Her red lips were grey and cracked. Her long, wavy dark hair was brittle and dry. Her dark blue eyes were covered in dark circles and dull.
Prince Maekar never left his wife’s side. Not even when he was summoned by the King and the Hand to come to the capital. “My wife is sick! If the matter is urgent, my brother can come here himself, or he can fuck off!” Prince Maekar once shouted to the maester who brought him the summons.
Princess Jaehaera unofficially took duty for her siblings while her father attended to her mother. She scolded Daeron and Aerion when they were acting out. She made sure Aemon and Aegon went to their lessons and helped them with their materials. She entertained Daella by teaching her embroidery. She would go to the nursery to see how little Rhae fared.
And at the end of every night, Jaehaera is the last child in Summerhall to go to bed, for she would go to her parents' chambers with a tray of tea and soft biscuits. She would discuss with her mother the happenings of her siblings and her role in managing Summerhall alongside her Father.
Lady Dyanna, with trembling hands, would gently braid her daughter’s hair and ask her how her day went.
There were moments where it seemed Dyanna had regained her strength and was improving, but when it seemed everything was alright, a bout of sickness would come and make her bedridden for weeks on end.
The Stranger took Lady Dyanna Dayne, when her eldest, Jaehaera, was 16 years old and youngest Rhae was 2 years old, in the middle of the night.
Her body was buried in the Summerhall grounds. The land was gifted to her and her husband after the Blackfyre Rebellion by her father-in-law, whom she cherished, like it was her own kingdom. Prince Maekar planted a Dornish Yew in her memory.
After the funeral, late at night, Princess Jaehaera went into her parents' chamber without her customary tea and biscuits. She sat on her mother’s vanity, grabbed her silver brush and brushed her hair. After she finished brushing her long dark hair and braided it like her mother taught her, she lay in the bed, her dark funeral clothes still on, and cried herself to sleep.
Grief reigned over the halls of the castle.
Prince Maekar became more gruff and harsh.
Lady Dyanna’s clothes, jewellery and belongings were locked away by the prince’s orders.
It was said Prince Maekar could barely look at his eldest daughter. The young princess was the spitting image of her mother, more Dayne than Targaryen. A steward once shared a story of how, during a meeting, Prince Maekar, forgetting himself, called his daughter by his late wife’s name. The Prince became quiet and stiff as steel, and the Princess excused herself from the room with tears in her eyes.
While her father grieved and ran the castle, Jaehaera continued to take care of her youngest siblings, so much so that more than once the little ones called her ‘momma’. Her sister, Daella, ran to her in tears when her first moonblood appeared. She was the damsel in distress in Aemon and Aegon’s games. She covered for Daeron when he was nursing a hangover. She practised Valyrian with Aerion. She braided little Rhae’s hair every morning.
Princess Jaehaera Targaryen became the example of a dutiful daughter. Lords and Ladies who visited Summerhall would share stories of the young and beautiful princess who greeted them warmly and spoke eloquently. More than once those Lords' and Ladies' sons would try to court the young Princess, and more than once Prince Maekar would drive them away the moment he noticed the way they gazed at her, as if he was once again fighting Blackfyre soldiers.
When Prince Maekar left Summerhall to go to the capital, Jaehaera became the unofficial head of the castle, a role that should've naturally gone to Prince Maekar’s eldest son, Prince Daeron. The servants would go to her with the matters of the estate. Prince Daeron never fought with or held any resentment towards his sister for that. He just quietly drank his wine, once joking that Aegon II was a fool for not doing that.
The people called her ‘The only man in Summerhall’. Never to Prince Maekar’s face, of course, for he did not like being reminded of his son’s failures.
While Jaehaera took her duties with her chin up, she couldn't help but feel… lonely. It’s a strange feeling when she’s always surrounded by people. She couldn't help but also feel resentful towards her father.
Especially when she comforted Daeron with his fits and dreams, which she didn’t know how to interpret but somehow always came true. When Rhae would snuggle up to her and call her ‘momma’. When Aegon would hide in her chambers to escape Aerion’s torment. When the Maester and the stewards would praise her when he returned from the capital, he would simply look at her and say, “If only you had been a boy.”
It was exhausting. She took care of everyone. Who takes care of Jaehaera?
“If you wanted to be queen so much, you could’ve had Valarr. At least your son would’ve been king too.”
That’s what Maekar said to his eldest daughter, Jaehaera, on the day she wed his elder brother, Baelor. Jaehaera simply rolled her eyes and told her father to enjoy the day as the people cheered behind them as they entered the great Sept of Baelor. She looked over her shoulder and waved. At that moment, she wanted to tell him it was all his fault.
It started almost two years ago.
Uncle Baelor and his sons, Valarr and Matarys, came to Summerhall. Maekar and Jaehara were in the courtyard when the procession appeared.
Maekar said, more like ordered, to his daughter. “Be a good host for Valarr, Jaehaera.”
Jaehaera's body stiffened as she realised the motive for this visit. There’s only one reason for why a father would ask his daughter to be a good host towards a man’s son.
She composed herself and smiled. “Of course, father.”
Prince Baelor dismounted his horse and walked to his brother. The man shook hands as they greeted one another. After they were done, Baelor turned to Jaehaera.
She bent her head and stretched her hand. “Your grace.”
Baelor gently took her hand and gave a chaste kiss on her knuckles; his beard tickled her skin for a brief moment.
“My darling Jaehaera," he greeted warmly. “You have grown to be quite a beautiful maiden.”
He looks over his shoulder at his eldest son, who has just dismounted his horse and walked to them, and said a little bit too loudly. “Has she not, Valarr?”
Valarr looked confused for a second about why his father was talking like that until Baelor raised a brow.
“Oh!” He walked to Jaehaera and kissed her cheek. “You look lovely, cousin.”
“Thank you, my prince.” She said dryly. “You look dashing.”
Maekar side-eyed his brother as he watched this awkward interaction. Baelor looked like he swallowed a lemon. Valarr and Jaehaera shared a look. Both of them find this a bit amusing and annoying at the same time. Matarys was the only one that probably didn't know the motive for this visit, for he just hugged her and told her he was happy to see her.
In the following days, the Hammer and the Anvil treated their eldest children as if they were pawns in a battle strategy. At meal times the two cousins were always sat next to each other and were encouraged to speak to one another. Baelor would guide his son on how to compliment and what to say to Jaehaera. Maekar couldn't give his daughter useful advice. it should be her mother who should help with these situations.
One late evening, the family was in the drawing room. Jaehaera and Valarr were sat a bit far away from them. Aerion and Daeron were nowhere in sight, probably for the best. Matarys played with Aegon and Aemon. Daella was doing her embroidery. Rhae played with her dolls.
Maekar and Baelor were chatting by the windows. They would occasionally look at them to check if they were engaging in "courtly love". After they looked at them for the umpteenth time, Jaehaera leaned in and whispered.
“They look like fishermen’s wives looking for gossip.” She joked. “We should tell them we have fallen madly in love so that they can stop looking at us.”
Valarr chuckled as he glanced at the Princes.
He leaned in closer. “My words have mostly been my father’s. I don’t think I have said a word of my own to you, cousin.”
“I feel wounded, cousin,” Jaehaera said, in mock hurt. “Does that mean I’m not the most beautiful and cleverest princess in our house?”
Valarr simply shrugged his shoulders. "Again, my father’s words, not mine.”
Jaehaera gave Valarr a light smack in the arm. He recoiled in laughter, and Jaehaera laughed as well.
The elder Princes watched the scene carefully.
“At least they're finally enjoying each other's presence," Maekar grumbled.
Baelor nodded, his face lit with approval.
“Maybe they’re on a good path.”
“How’s Kiera?” Jaehaera asked.
Kiera of Tyrosh, a beautiful woman with dark skin and light pink curly hair, whom Jaehaera met briefly when visiting King’s Landing for the Queen’s nameday. Valarr looked at her like she hung the stars and the moon herself. He blushed when she asked when the wedding was going to occur.
“Does she know you are courting another woman’s heart?”
“She’s fine, and no, I haven't told her about the visit."
“When are you planning to? When grandsire announced our betrothal?"
Valarr turned solemn. "Don't you find the entire situation absurd?"
“I do.” She said, playing with the rings on her finger. “It begs the question: How did they court our mothers?”
Valarr chuckles at that.
“What advice have our grandparents given to them if telling us what to do and what to say is what is going to create a happy and stable union?” She continues.
“They are old; they have forgotten how unions start.”
"However, they ought to keep in mind how love is developed and fostered." She retorted. "After each campaign, my father gave my mother a star-shaped trinket. She would proudly wear it on every occasion. And I still remember how your father would have your lady mother as a dance partner for every feast.”
At the mention of his mother, Valarr lowered his chin. Jaehaera instinctively placed her hand on his shoulder. Although Valarr's back was turned to him, Baelor noticed a change in his son's demeanour. Jaehaera nodded, assuring him that she could handle it. Baelor nodded in response.
"He hasn’t danced with anyone since she passed. No matter how much the ladies of the court would ask."
They stayed in silence for a moment, listening to the children laugh.
“Be honest with me, cousin," Jaehaera started. “Do you even want me as your wife?”
“It was our grandparents who suggested my father and I should come here.” Valarr said. “They believe if the son of the Hammer and the daughter of the Anvil wed, it will show a picture of strength to House Targaryen. If our union helps keep the realm at peace and our family, then yes. I wish to marry you.”
“Do you even want to marry me?” She asked again.
Valarr looked at her with pity. Jaehaera did not enjoy it when they looked at her with pity.
“Jaehaera,” Valarr starts. “Although my words have been laid out by my father, they are still the truth, and I believe them. You are the fairest and most clever princess in our house. You manage the household when your father is away without fuss. I’ve seen the way you are with your brothers and sisters. You’ll be a great wife and mother, and I would be honoured to be the man by your side.”
"But?"
“It’s Kiera who I want.”
Jaehaera closes her eyes and sighs. Each syllable of Kiera’s name was said slowly and tenderly. Oh, how she wished someone would say her name like that! How she wished someone would declare for her like that!
“Do you wish to marry her?”
“Yes.”
“Then why in the seven hells are you still here with me instead of her?”
Valarr smiled. “They’re not going to be happy.”
“Well, they will get over it.” She interjected. ”They will maybe blame me.”
Valarr stands up and warmly kisses her cheek. “Do not worry. I will make sure you are not to blame for this failed courtship.”
“You are kind, cousin.” She said, “I hope I find a noble man who will love me the same way you love Kiera of Tyrosh.”
“Don’t worry, cousin. You will.” He winked at her and walked towards Baelor and Maekar. “Uncle. Father. I feel like sparring. Would you like to practise with me?”
Maekar looked at his brother, then his nephew. Perhaps this is the moment where Valarr is going to ask for Jaehaera’s hand.
“Of course,” he says and looks at his brother. “Will you join us, brother?”
Baelor wasn’t looking at them. He was looking at Jaehaera, who was now in the company of sisters. Rhae in her lap and Daella on her side showing her embroidery.
“Go ahead. I'll join you later.”
The princes nodded and left with Aegon, Aemon and Matarys in tow. Jaehaera looked up when Baelor sat on the chair previously occupied by his son.
“I don’t believe I’ll have you as a daughter-in-law, niece.”
“Unfortunately, not in this lifetime, Uncle.” She smiled.
Daella spoke up. “I’m actually glad.”
Jaehaera looked at her in amusement and curiosity. “And why is that?”
“It means you get to stay.”
Her heart grips at those words. Sadness flashes through her eyes, and it quickly goes away before the girls could notice, but Baelor did.
"Father was not happy," Aegon said.
He and Jaehaera were in the gardens. Aegon waved his wooden sword while Jaehaera sat on the blanket and read her book.
“Father is rarely happy.” She said.
“He’s upset that Valarr rejected you.”
“I wouldn't say I was rejected from something I didn't want in the first place..."
“Father kept saying.” He lowered his voice. “Who does that boy think he is?! Is my Jaehaera not good enough for him? Baelor spoils him. He should grovel for her hand.”
Jaehaera grinned.
“I think you would have been a good queen, sister.” Aegon said this with the sincerity only a child can possess.
He put down his wooden sword and approached her. She clasped his small hands and smiled at him. "And why do you believe so, little brother?"
"You are both kind and smart,” Aegon started. “Grandsire always said those are the good qualities of a queen. And besides, Aerion would have to kneel before you and obey your every word.”
Jaehaera burst out laughing and hugged Aegon. “Now I do wish I was queen.”
"Maybe it is for the best, sister." A cold voice swept through the garden, cutting the joy that Aegon and Jaehaera were experiencing. “The last thing Valarr needs is a woman to whisper in his ear about tales of being kind and soft-hearted. If the Blackfyres were to rebel again, we'd be finished."
Aerion stared at Aegon with a cold stare that made the little boy hide behind his sister.
“What is this nonsense coming out of your mouth, you insolent pup? As if I'd bend the knee for this dull wench."
“A harmless jest, brother.” Jaehaera said, slipping to valyrian. She stood up and pulled Aegon further behind her. When they spoke in the language of their ancestor, it seemed to occupy Aerion’s mind enough to calm him down. “Don’t take it too seriously, and there’s no need to throw insults.”
Aerion chuckled dryly. "Uncle and his pups will be leaving in a few days. Good. I can't take another day of Father moaning about your failure. You could have done us all a favour by sucking our cousin's cock when you had the opportunity."
Jaehaera tightens her jaw and throws the book at him, but the arrogant boy just avoids it.
“A harmless jest, sister.” He was laughing. "There's no need to take it seriously.”
“Get out of here, you cunt!”
Aerion continued to laugh and turned to leave.
Her heart pounded quickly, and she breathed heavily through her nose. She cannot remember when Aerion was kind. Maybe as a baby or toddler. She can't pinpoint a time in her life when he began to treat them cruelly. She only remembers her braids being pulled, the mean words, the heads of her dolls being severed, her sobs, and her mother scolding him, but it never stopped. Jaehaera learnt to lock her belongings with a key to keep them safe.
Aegon let go of her skirts and moved to where her book was lying after Aerion vanished from sight. He picks it up, carefully sweeping away the grass and unfolding the pages. He walks back to her and gives her back the book.
“Here, sister. Uncle Aerys would go into a fit if he had seen what you did to The Loves of Queen Nymeria.”
With her blood still running hot, Jaehaera was unable to laugh.
She woke up in the middle of the night just as the sun was rising and couldn’t fall asleep after, and when she doesn't manage to fall asleep, she does the only logical action: she sneaks out of the castle.
But not before going to the kitchen first to gather some bread, ham, cheese and some sweets, wrapping them in a cloth and a pouch of water. She went to the stable and gave the stableboy sweets – the currency for his silence – as he brought her horse.
All the anxiety in Jaehaera’s body left when she saw her mother’s tree.
3 years after her mother’s death, the Dornish Yew has grown quite beautiful. The trunk is thick, and the branches were full of leaves that provided the ideal shade, and the roots served as a perfect seat.
She sat down and listened to the birds tweeting. They sounded so beautiful in the early hours of the day. She felt herself doze off a bit when she heard leaves rustle. She held her breath and became still.
She waited for the next sound. Maybe it's the natural sound of the woods. The leaves crumbled. Jaehaera gathered up a nearby rock and sprang up. She was prepared for whatever lay ahead. Whether it is a boar, a mountain lion, or Aerion.
She turned, and all of her worries faded away.
It’s not a boar, a mountain lion or Aerion.
It is only Uncle Baelor, who was looking at her with amusement.
She must be quite a sight! A princess of the blood with leaves clinging to her cloak, not even properly dressed, a mad look in her eyes and a rock as her only weapon of defence.
"Be careful, niece." He laughed as he spoke. "To strike the king's heir with a rock is treason."
Jaehaera laughed and dropped the rock, her cheeks flushed with shame. "Please forgive me, Uncle. Nonetheless, you should be aware that approaching a lady without first announcing your presence is considered rude.”
"You should also be aware that a lady should never be alone in the woods without a guard or chaperone by her side."
"Yes, I am aware of that." She plucked a leaf that was stuck on her cape. “However, this is one of the few places where I can be alone without someone vying for my attention."
“Understandable.” He said. "I occasionally hide in one of the Red Keep's many rooms and simply lie on the floor when things get too loud."
“Lie on the floor?” She asked, amused and bewildered.
“Yes, the cold floor cools my head.”
Jaehaera smiled. “How did you know I was here?”
“I saw you retrieve your horse from the stables and go to the woods. When an hour passed and you didn’t return, I got concerned. The stableboy was quick to tell me where to find you.”
“There's no need to worry, Uncle.” She reassured him. “I come here all the time. I have not been bothered by any man or animal.”
“Yet.” He said almost grimly. “I doubt a rock would be enough to protect you.”
Jaehaera let out a sigh and bowed her head in defeat. “Are you going to tell Father?”
She can picture it. Even though she was his best-behaved child, he still scolded her. If Daeron wasn’t sober, or the girls weren’t behaving like proper ladies, or Aerion was acting like a prick, she too had to hear from him. To bear some responsibility for their shortcomings.
“You are the oldest, and you are supposed to set an example! How are you letting them behave like this?” Her father had shouted at her more than once.
Jaehaera simply remained mute and gave in to her father. She would apologise at the end of each reprimand and promise him that she would be watching them more closely. When Jaehaera misbehaved as a child, he would just stare her down and say he was disappointed. When he said those words, she would wait until he was out of earshot to start sobbing. Her mother would come, clean her tears and tell her he did not mean any of it.
If Prince Maekar were to learn that his eldest daughter was walking around the woods alone, he would lock her in her chamber, and she wouldn’t be able to walk around Summerhall without at least a dozen guards or Septas watching her every step.
“No,” Baelor answered.
Her brows raised in surprise.
“Why?” She whispered so lowly that she wondered if he even heard her question.
Baelor Targaryen, a man who followed every rule, wouldn’t let a lady, be she blood or not, walk around with danger nearby.
“While we don’t have the opportunity to see each other often. You, in the Summerhall. Me, King's Landing. These past few days have been enough to see how much pressure you put on yourself. Ever since your lady mother passed, you have been the one to take care of your siblings. And as the eldest, I understand how much it exhausts you. If this place brings you peace, I cannot take that from you.”
His words, his acknowledgement, almost brought her to tears.
“You are too kind, Uncle.”
He smiled at her. He smiled so warmly when it wasn’t for a political show.
“Just allow me to stay with you for a while or at least leave you a dagger.” He said. “I do not like the thought of you alone and unprotected.”
“Of course.” She nodded and went back to her spot on the tree. “Sit next to me, Uncle.”
Baelor sat next to her, at a respectable distance but not far from her. He looked up at the tree and felt its trunk.
“Dornish Yew.” He said. “High-quality wood, great flexibility, perfect to create longbows. I've never got the chance to wield one, but I’ve seen the Dornish use them plenty of times in battle.”
“Well, good thing the King has plenty of them in Dorne. They do not get to touch this one.”
“Of course, Princess.” He smiled. “I will make sure of it.”
The silence returned. It was a comfortable silence. She split the sandwich she had made and cursed herself when they didn't have the same size. She was about to give him the bigger half when he took the small one from her hand and started eating it. She began to eat hers as well. After a while, the sounds of the birds chirping started to become too repetitive, and Jaehaera craved a new sound. She craved Baelor’s voice.
“Say something, Uncle.” She asked softly.
“What do you want me to say, my darling?”
“Anything.”
He complies with her request. He recounted events from his early years. Stories featuring her father she didn't know existed. Obscure history of their house and others. She closed her eyes and listened.
At some point, during one of his stories, she sat even closer to him and laid her head on his shoulder. He didn't mind and put his thicker cloak around them and pulled her closer; his hand rested on the crook of her elbow.
She opened her eyes and looked at the hand on her arm as he described a long-ago tournament. Baelor's hand is tanned, his fingers long, and embellished with silver rings. They appeared almost pristine, but you could see the calluses. Built up from years of wielding spears and blades.
She grabbed hold of his hand. It was quite warm. She toyed with one of the rings as if it were attached to her fingers. Moving them around, taking them off, and placing them back on. He didn't appear to mind as he continued to speak. She became bolder without realising it. She spread their hands to compare sizes. Hers was clearly smaller than his.
She locked their fingers together.
Then he gripped her hand.
That's when she noticed he had stopped speaking. She looked up and found him staring right at her. His face was closer to hers, and she started to notice more details about his appearance. The bump on his nose after being broken twice. The lines on his face. That becomes prominent when he smiles or frowns. The many specks of grey in his beard. His kind and warm mismatched eyes.
The ladies of the court have always said he was the king’s most handsome son. She couldn’t agree more. Her eyes flickered to his lips, and she wondered how they would feel against hers.
Jaehaera decided to test it. She closed her eyes and put her lips against his. They were surprisingly soft, and his beard pleasantly tickled her.
The kiss barely lasted, and she felt shame tugging at her. She pulled away and was about to apologise, but before she could even open her eyes, he grabbed the back of her neck and brought her lips to his again. Her own hands went to his shoulders to stabilise herself. This kiss was different. While hers was shy and uncertain, his was confident and unwavering.
The kiss started to grow bolder. He gingerly bit her lip before removing his and starting to kiss the corner of her mouth. Then he moved to her cheek, then her jaw and finally her neck. The feeling of his beard against her skin created goosebumps all over her body.
She opened her eyes and looked up at the skies that were becoming bluer as the sun rose and smiled like a fool. She gripped his cloak so tightly her knuckles went white. She gripped him like she was afraid he was going to disappear and this moment was just an illusion.
If it weren't for the sound of his breathing, the feeling of his lips and the scent of ink and leather, Jaehaera would've thought she had fallen asleep against the tree and was having a sinful dream.
“Baelor…” She whispers.
Jaehaera doesn’t know what to say or what to do. Her mind is blank. One thing she knows is that she doesn’t want this to stop. She wanted him to do whatever he wanted to do to her. She trusts him. She feels good. She desires him. She wants more.
As he kissed and tasted her skin, Jaehaera shifted her body so that she was straddling his lap like a horse. On his lap she could feel something hard against her thigh. She understood what that was. She read enough books on it. He was making her happy, and she hoped he felt the same way.
She rolled her hips, and he groaned and grabbed her hips. His grasp was firm but not painful. She did it again, and something snapped in him.
He put his arms around her body and moved her to the ground with speed that made her gasp in surprise. She lay on the ground with him hovering over, trapping her. He moved his hand to the hem of her dress and pulled it to reveal the skin of her leg to the cold, and his mouth went back to her neck.
Her breath hitched when she felt his hand on her leg and his hardness on her upper thigh. Her body started to tremble as she realised how far this was going. She didn't know if she was trembling because she was afraid or excited about crossing such a dangerous line.
“Baelor.” She called his name again, but it sounded like a frightening squeal.
He stopped.
She could only hear him breathe heavily against her.
“Baelor?”
Baelor shifted his face away from her neck and put his forehead on her shoulder, making the top of his head the only thing she could see. The hardness she felt against her thigh was softening. They lay on the ground in silence, but this time it wasn't as calm as before. It was tense.
She was going to ask him what was wrong and what she had done wrong when he lifted himself and covered her legs back. He stood up and began to walk away, but not before leaving a dagger on the dirt next to her.
She lay there paralysed, feeling the skin that was once warm by his lips get cold and watching him walk away from her. The feelings of pleasure and excitement were replaced with dread. She got up and raced after him.
“Uncle!” She shouted. “Please! Wait!”
He continued walking.
Is he going to tell Father? Is he going to tell Grandsire? Is she going to be sent to Oldetown and forced to become a novice? That’s what happened to Saera Targaryen. She’ll spend years praying for forgiveness. For leading her uncle to sin. For daring to replace Lady Jena’s touch.
“Please do not think ill of me!” She pleaded as hot tears ran down her face.
That slowed Baelor in his tracks. He turned. His expression was one of surprise and horror. He instantly reached her and took her into his arms. She wasn't unsure what to do. She wasn't sure where to put her hands. She simply leaned her weight against him and let him hold her.
He grasped her face and tenderly brushed away a tear with his thumb. “Jaehaera. It is me who should be saying that. It is me who should be begging for your forgiveness.”
She shook her head in his hands. She started it, kissed him, and rubbed against him like a common whore. That is what she wanted to say, but only sobs came out.
“Jaehaera.” He said her name again more firmly. “This should’ve never happened. This can never happen again. And for your protection, you must tell no one. Do you understand?”
She kept sobbing.
“Jaehaera!” He shouted.
“Yes!” She cried. “Yes! I’m sorry.”
Baelor closed his eyes and said nothing further. He led her to the horses, and they returned to the castle in silence. Neither of them dared to say anything or look at the other
Jaehaera observed sorrowfully from the entryway of the Summerhall castle as the stable boys led the horses to the front. Father and Uncle chatted among themselves. Maekar's annoyance at his eldest daughter's rejection must have faded away, as the talk was devoid of tension.
The cousins said their goodbyes. Valarr kissed her hand and told her he couldn't wait to see her at the wedding. Jaehaera smiled and told him to hug Kiera for her.
She assumed Baelor wasn't going to bid his goodbye to her. He didn't look when they were breaking fast, even though they exchanged nice words. But when Valarr and Matarys mounted their horses, he appeared in front and gazed at her.
She bowed. Her gaze fixated on the ground, "Safe travels, uncle."
“Thank you, my dear.” He replied. “I believe we will see each other soon in Dragonstone for the wedding.”
She nodded.
She thought that was it, but he didn’t move.
“Jaehaera…” He stopped himself.
Jaehaera looked at him.
Baelor looked at her, his expression stiff.
They didn’t say a word until Baelor sighed and turned.
“Baelor,” Jaehaera called, but quietly so the others couldn’t hear.
He looked over his shoulder.
“I still have your dagger.” She simply said.
“Keep it.” He said. “I told you I don’t like the thought of you alone without protection.”
The conversation ended, and Baelor hopped on his horse. The heir and his heirs disappeared down the road along with the guards. Not once did Baelor look back, even as Jaehaera silently prayed that he did. So she could take another glance at his eyes.
“What are you doing standing here like a statue?” A gruff voice called out.
Jaehaera looked at her father, who was looking back at her with a frown. A frown she has known her entire life.
She quickly composed herself. “Silently praying for the Father and the Mother to keep Uncle and cousins safe during their journey back home.”
Maekar scoffed. “It’s a two-day ride back to King’s Landing. The worst thing that can happen is an inconvenient rain.” He put his hand on her shoulder and guided her back inside.
As Jaehaera walked inside, she dared to speak for the first time about the failed courtship. “I’m sorry this visit didn’t result in what you wanted, Kepa.”
“Shouldn’t I be the one to say it?” He asked. “You could’ve been queen.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “It’s not a title I desperately want. Especially with an ugly chair attached.”
“Watch it, girl.” He scolded lightly. “And don’t feel sorry for it. Can’t believe that boy believes a random woman from Tyrosh is better than a Targaryen princess.”
“That Tyroshi girl will be our queen, so it’s best to hold our tongues regarding her.”
“Well, she’s not married to the boy, so I can say whatever I want until they wed.”
Jaehaera rolled her eyes, but away from his view. She doesn't need a scolding for showing disrespect.
“When the wedding festivities start. It will be a good opportunity for you to find a suitable husband. You are nineteen; at that age a woman of your station should’ve been wed long ago. A lot of lords and knights, heirs to great houses, will be there. Just find one that isn’t a kiss arse or annoying, and I’ll be happy.”
She nodded obediently.
“And if I don’t find one in the wedding?”
He shrugged. “You go back to Summerhall and see what happens next year.”
While Jaehaera understands marrying could help her in life when her father’s no longer alive, she truly did not wish to leave Summerhall. She truly doesn't want to marry for duty. She knows that marrying for love is unrealistic. She is the king’s eldest granddaughter, after all.
Valarr marrying means extending the succession line.
Her marrying means fostering alliances.
When young noblemen came to Summerhall and tried to start a courtship, they saw her as a challenge to win. A step closer to the throne. An order given to them by their fathers.
All Jaehaera wants is someone to look at her and not see duty and alliances. To look at her tenderly.
Is it too much to ask?
Maybe she should risk it. Love can grow. It did for the king and queen. It did for her mother and father.
At her chambers, Jaehera read through her books about the great Houses of Westeros whose heirs are yet to be wed. She took a list of names of those who would be suitable. But as she skimmed the pages of the book, she would return to the page dedicated to House Targaryen, and the tip of her fingers would land on his name and his accomplishments.
Jaehaera wondered how her father would react if she told him Baelor would be a great match for her. An heir, a good knight and not a kiss-arse. But based on childhood stories, she could not guarantee he wouldn't annoy him.