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Chapter Text

When Rhaena was nine, she gave Jace her favorite ring. It hadn’t been her most valuable piece of jewelry, even then, but Rhaena had always thought the colorful enamel and pearls set into the gold rather pretty. And Laena had gifted it to her, so maybe it had been the most valuable piece she’d owned. 

Now, at eleven, she wasn’t certain why she’d done so, as she didn’t think she’d ever seen him with it since then. She was even less certain of why when she caught sight of a bracelet Baela had given him tied around his wrist. Her sister wore a similar one, a little band of polished red and black beads, the dragonglass glinting in the late afternoon sun as Baela had climbed atop Moondancer. 

Rhaena sighed and propped her chin on her knees, trying to find Baela in the sky. She wasn’t jealous, exactly. People always seemed to like Baela best.

Even Rhaena liked Baela best, so she couldn’t find it in herself to be angry that Father and grandmother and now their stepbrothers seemed to as well. 

Once, Rhaena had thought to act more like her twin, to see if others would flock to her the way they did Baela. But it had lasted all of an hour, the brashness and the demands sitting awkwardly on her tongue. 

So Rhaena would stay as she was. Which she didn’t think was a bad thing, really. She rather liked herself on most days, or at the very least thought that she was good, even if she did not think she felt very much like a Targaryen. 

There were just moments like this, where she was certain she’d never be another person’s favorite, and the thought pressed down so heavily on her chest that it ached. 

An impatient clicking sound from up the beach drew Rhaena’s attention, startling her out of her thoughts. She lifted her head to find Vermax shaking his wings as though he wished to follow Moondancer into the skies.

“You can go,” Rhaena said softly, finally giving her attention to Jace, who sat beside her, trailing his fingers through the sand.

He glanced up at her through his lashes, and his eyes were so pretty in the sunlight that it made her throat close. “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

That was why Rhaena had even given him the ring in the first place, she supposed. He never wanted to leave her alone, and to a girl that was terrified of being left behind- be it because of her mother’s death or her lack of dragon or whatever else- it made her terribly attached to him. 

He’d offered her comfort at Mother’s funeral, even as he and Baela had linked fingers and sworn to be one another’s dearest friends. He always made certain to defend her when others made comments about her lack of dragon. He sought her out when she hid and asked after her and sometimes stared at her face so intently that she was sure he was trying to memorize every little detail of it.

And months ago, when her egg had finally hatched, the baby dragon crawling pale and sickly from its shell, Jace had been with her as she’d prayed the hatchling would live more than a few hours. He’d sat pressed to her side until the adults forced him from the room. And after night had fallen, he had snuck back into her rooms, pulled the hatchling’s cooling body from her hands, and let her sob all of her disappointment out against his shoulder until her eyes had fallen closed from exhaustion.

They’d gotten in trouble when the maids found them the next morning, Rhaenyra and Father both lecturing them until their voices were hoarse. Rhaenyra had spoken of expectations and appearances and duty, and Rhaena’s stomach had dropped, suspecting that she and Father were planning to betroth Baela and Jace before the year was out. 

Everyone was expecting as much, as they were the eldest siblings in the family. Rhaena had stupidly allowed herself to become enamored with Jace despite that, and each of his little acts of care for her only made it worse.

As his mother had chastised them, Jace whispered to Rhaena that it had been worth it to be there for her. That he would face trouble again to do it. And even with the impending threat of his future marriage to her twin, Rhaena’s heart had softened towards him even more. 

Rhaena smiled, digging her hands into the sand and letting the grains fall through her fingers. “You’d rather be flying and both of us know it.”

“I like being with you,” Jace said, knocking his shoulder against hers. 

She believed him as a little shockwave went through her, just like it did every time he touched her. He was only a year older than her, and took his role as the eldest sibling far more seriously than she thought anyone truly expected of him, but she didn’t think that he would lie to her about this. Even if it was to protect her tender feelings. 

“I’m not even talking.”

He shrugged. “I still like it.”

Rhaena bit down on her lip to keep from smiling like an idiot. Between them, her fingers shifted just slightly on the sand, as if searching for his. Staring straight ahead, her heart pounded as she felt the warmth of his skin near hers, hotter than the sunbaked sand beneath them. 

Just barely, their hands brushed. Rhaena shut her eyes, fearing that he’d pull away. But his hand shifted to meet hers, the movement tiny and intentional. 

They didn’t speak as his pinky looped over hers or when she hooked hers around his. But her cheeks burned, and her breath stuttered, and she was certain that she was the biggest fool in the world.

☾𖤓

As of Rhaena and Baela’s fourteenth nameday, Baela and Jacaerys were somehow- blessedly- still not betrothed. The only person happier about it than Rhaena seemed to be Baela, though Rhaena didn’t quite understand why. 

Or she hadn’t at least, until this moment. 

Because when she’d pushed into an empty sitting room in an attempt to find solace from their nameday festivities, Rhaena had expected possibly anything other than finding her twin pressing her mouth to Helaena’s.

“Baela!” Rhaena yelped, slamming the door closed behind her and latching the lock. 

Her cheeks were hot as the girls broke apart, but in the back of her mind, she was distantly thankful that her brown skin wouldn’t show the flush like poor Helaena’s. Their cousin was as red as Caraxes, her pale purple eyes blown wide as her mouth opened and closed and her hands fluttered nervously at her sides. 

Baela, for her part, looked much less embarrassed and far more perturbed at having the moment interrupted. “It’s fine, Helaena,” she murmured, turning to Rhaena. 

Rhaena blinked at her sister, uncertain of what to say. She trailed her eyes over Baela, feeling as though she was seeing her for the first time. Her hair was newly shorn, her locs recently cut and combed out, her curls falling to her shoulders. The purple of her eyes was the same shade that greeted Rhaena each time she looked in the mirror, dark and warm. There was a small scar cutting through Baela’s plump bottom lip and a row of gold piercings in her lobes and a pretty pearl diadem sat upon her head, matching the one Rhaena wore 

All of that was familiar, Rhaena thought. Unsurprising. 

But the way that Baela and Helaena were standing near one another, and the way that their hands had rested against each other’s bodies... that spoke of intimacy. Of closeness, rather than one of Baela’s wild hairs or a simple kissing game. 

And Rhaena had not had the slightest clue that such a thing was happening with her sister. 

“What– what?” she finally stuttered. “When?”

That seemed the most important suddenly. That Baela had hidden something from Rhaena for gods knew how long. 

Helaena was staring pointedly at her feet, but her voice came first, quiet and mortified. “A year ago.”

“A year, Baela?!” Rhaena exclaimed. Hurt and confusion were battling inside of her, and she wasn’t certain which one was winning. 

Baela’s defensive posture softened, and she stepped closer to Rhaena, grabbing her hands. “I did not keep it from you because I don’t trust you.”

“Then why?”

Baela’s mouth spasmed. “No one knows. Only Jace, because–.”

“Jace knows?” Rhaena demanded, a new layer of hurt joining what she already felt. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Both of them had been keeping secrets from her. Protecting each other. Whispering. Excluding her. Again.

“Rhaena, no! It’s not like what you’re thinking,” Baela said, tightening her grip on Rhaena when she tried to pull her hands away. “It was an accident.”

Rhaena frowned. That did not alleviate her frustration. Even if she knew that Jace was loyal and honorable and would not share another person’s secret, and even if she knew that she would respect him less if he did, there was a part of Rhaena that was so hurt that neither of them had told her. They were her dearest friends, and neither of them had thought to be honest.

“When did he find out?” she asked, flicking her eyes to where Helaena stood chewing at the side of her thumb. 

Baela shrugged, finally letting Rhaena pull her hands back. “Several months ago, I think. When we were all here for Joffrey’s nameday.”

Gods, that made her stomach ache. The hurt seemed to radiate through her until the tips of her fingers felt numb. “Were you ever planning to tell me, Baela?” 

Rhaena winced when her voice cracked. All of the happiness from their nameday celebrations was gone. All of the anticipation that Jacaerys might ask her to dance. All of the excitement that her father might look upon her for longer than a moment. 

“I didn’t know how,” Baela said, biting down on her lip. “I’m sorry.”

Rhaena shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

And it didn’t. Truly, she tried to tell herself. But she still felt othered. Left behind. Forgotten as she always was. 

She turned from Baela and Helaena without another word, pushing from the room, ignoring her sister’s call for her. Walking back to the ballroom took too long, Rhaena’s feet weighed down with something that felt terrifyingly close to abandonment. 

When she finally did reach the ballroom, Jace appeared in her path, his smile wide. On his brow sat a thin gold circlet, just like the ones his brothers wore, only his was set with several dark red rubies. Luke’s was set with sapphires, the younger boys’ plain, but still polished to such a finish that they could be used as mirrors. 

Rhaena wasn’t certain why she was so caught up on the sight of his circlet. Perhaps because thinking about the gold bands was easier than thinking of how she felt as though he’d chosen Baela over her. Which was unfair. Because there was nothing to choose. 

They all knew that Baela and Jace would wed someday. They all knew that they were dear friends. If anything, he should choose Baela. No matter how badly Rhaena wished to be picked, just once. 

“Will you dance with me, my lady?” Jace asked, holding his hand out to Rhaena. 

She looked down at his hand, wishing that he would have asked her an hour ago, when the offer would have felt like a gift rather than a slap in the face. His brow furrowed when she didn’t answer. 

“Are you well?”

“I found Baela with Helaena,” she whispered, wary of the people milling around them. 

Jace’s face shuttered, realization passing over him. The sight of it annoyed Rhaena further. Of course he knew what the issue was. He knew her insecurities better than she’d wish for him to, when her desire for him felt very centered in so many of them. 

“Rhaena–,” he started. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, just as she’d asked Baela. 

Jace’s brows were furrowed. “It was not my secret to share.”

And Rhaena knew that, which was perhaps what was most frustrating about this all. Tears were threatening to spill over, but she did not want to cry. She had wanted to enjoy the attention of a nameday celebration. She had wanted to open gifts. She had wanted to dance with Jace and pretend that she would not be forgotten again when the day passed. 

She shook her head. “I’m being foolish.”

Jace took her hand, not caring that they were surrounded on all sides. “You’re not.” He ran his thumb over her knuckles. “Will you please dance with me?”

“Why?”

“Because I wish to dance with you, Rhaena,” Jace said, his voice confused. “Why else?”

Despite herself, a small ball of warmth tried to spark inside of Rhaena’s chest. He had not asked Baela to dance, even with how concerned he was with appearances. By all rights, he should have asked his would-be betrothed to join him in front of Rhaenyra’s court. If he wished to please their parents and play the part of perfect heir, at least. Which he always did.

But he had asked Rhaena first. Second born, dragonless, achingly lonely Rhaena. And foolish as she may be, she could not help her smile. She could not help but tighten her grip on his hand. 

“Yes, Jace,” she said, watching a smile light up his face again. When he grinned at her, she could almost forget that she was angry with him in the first place.

He linked his fingers with hers, drawing her to where people were dancing already, skirts twirling as musicians played from the corner. Glancing back over his shoulder, his face was suddenly solemn. “I’ll not keep secrets from you again.”

She tightened her hand around his, begging the gods to make the words a promise. To bless and seal them. Perhaps- though she’d not admit it- to make them mean more.

☾𖤓

Rhaena had spent nearly four months on Driftmark with Baela, and though she had missed Dragonstone and the people on it, being apart from them had been... needed. Especially as she had not left on good terms with her father.

Several days before she had left to visit Baela and their grandmother, her frustration with Daemon had finally broken when he’d brushed her aside again. He was often too busy for her, though she thought that he did love her in his own way. But there had been something that day about begging for his attention only to be ignored and later find him fawning over the boys that had made her snap. 

She couldn’t remember what she’d even said to him, in her anger. But she knew that she had raised her voice and scared Viserys and laid out a list of all the ways she felt that Daemon had failed her and Baela both. 

He’d not come looking for her after she fled the room, tears blurring her vision. Nor had he found her that night, or the next or the next. And when she had left for Driftmark, Daemon had been noticeably absent from the docks. Even during her visit, when Baela had received the occasional raven from their father, Rhaena never had.

The ship rocked under Rhaena’s feet as it docked in Dragonstone’s port, and her hands tightened around the railing, her eyes trailing over the busy docks to see if anyone had come to meet her. After a moment of searching, she caught sight of Jace and Luke, standing side by side in red and black cloaks. 

She rushed off of the ship when a board was laid, letting a knight hold her hand to guide her down. Though the distance between Dragonstone and Driftmark wasn’t vast, her legs were still a little wobbly when she found solid land. Rhaena nearly stumbled over her own feet with her quick steps toward her step brothers, excited giggles falling from her lips as she met them. 

With no warning, Jace caught her, and the breath was pushed from her lungs in a delighted rush as he spun her twice. Her head felt hazy when he set her back on the ground, grinning at her. His hands clutched her arms, holding their bodies so close that she could feel the warmth coming off of him in the cool evening air. 

Words seemed to escape Rhaena as she trailed her eyes over his face. He’d grown his hair out in the months that she’d been gone, and now that his seventeenth nameday had passed, he was beginning to look more like a man than a boy, his jaw and cheeks sharp, his nose angled, his eyes heavy with responsibility she did not think he should feel the need to shoulder. With his hair long enough for his curls to take shape, Rhaena felt nearly breathless at the sight of him. 

Again, she was swept off of her feet without warning, her entire world spinning as the familiar smell of Luke’s yarrow soap filled her nose. She laughed, so excited to see them both that she couldn’t even find it in herself to be angry that her perusal of Jace’s features had been cut short. 

“Luke!” she exclaimed when he put her down, catching his face in her hands and tilting her head back at him. “What on earth happened?”

Before she left, Luke’s height had been rather equal to Jace’s, but since she’d been gone, he’d shot up like a tree. He was at least half a head taller than Jacaerys now, something that Rhaena was certain he gave his brother a great deal of grief over. A shy smile took over Luke’s mouth, the tips of his ears turning pink. He shrugged, giving her a tight hug instead of answering. 

Jace appeared at her side again, glaring at Luke. “Now you’re shy,” he said, turning to Rhaena. “He’s spoken of nothing other than his growth for weeks, Rhaena.”

Rhaena put on an overly dramatic expression of sympathy, placing her hand on Jace’s shoulder. “Poor thing.”

Luke barked out a laugh, catching Rhaena with an arm around her shoulders. She grinned up at him. Though she had tender feelings for Jace, she and Lucerys had always been easy friends. If she had to marry him... it would not be terrible truly. 

It would only be unfair to them both, when she had decided so long ago she only wanted his brother. 

“He still bests me in the training yard,” Luke said, kicking out at Jace. “Don’t let his pout fool you.” 

Behind Jace, Rhaena caught sight of a familiar silver head, her happiness dissipating as she realized that her father and Rhaenyra had come to the docks. Luke still had his arm around her shoulders, and she saw the exact moment her father realized it, his dark violet eyes narrowing. 

Rhaena’s stomach dropped, something like dread settling there. It was a wonder that none of his or Rhaenyra’s children had been betrothed yet– to one another or to someone else. Had she sealed her fate by greeting Luke as she had, she wondered? 

In the months that she had been away, Rhaena had almost forgotten how horrid she often felt on this island. How out of control. How patient and passive she acted in an attempt to make others simply look at her. 

Her mouth pulled into a frown as Jace and Luke led her towards their parents. The phantom sensation of Jace’s hands on her arms teased at her, the memory of his warmth making pressure build behind her eyes. 

It never mattered how badly she wanted something, she did not think. Her fate had been sealed long ago. By something far greater than her own desires.  

☾𖤓

Hours later, there was a stone settled low and heavy in Rhaena’s stomach. Her father had finally spoken to her, but it had only been to whisper that she was not destined to be Jace’s wife. 

Which she knew. She had always known. 

Daemon’s voice was gentle when he said it. Perhaps far gentler than it had been since Laena passed, but that had done nothing to cool the mortification being told such a thing had sparked in her. Rhaena never let herself act on the achingly tender feelings she held for Jacaerys, not because she did not wish to, not because she they did not exist or because she did not think he shared them to some degree, but because she was not a fool. 

Rhaena may not be as daring or as bold as Baela, but she was not wilting. She was not passive over everything else, gentle and fond of finery as she may be. There had been times, especially within the past year, where she had thought to act in the quiet moments that she shared with Jace.

The desire to grant him a kiss or more made itself known each time he smiled at her and each time he linked his pinky with hers- the only touch she ever allowed herself to take.

Each time she remembered that he had kept his promise not to lie to her, she wanted to give him a part of herself. Because she thought he may be the only person in her life who was wholly honest with her. 

Father, when he deigned to give her attention, spoke to her as though she was a child. Rhaenyra preferred Baela to Rhaena, and did not often have time to pay her attention between her role as heir and her own children. Luke and Baela, dear to Rhaena as they were, had their own friends and their own lives and both sought to protect her, she supposed, by not speaking of dragons or the future with her. 

But Jacaerys did not keep things from her, even when she thought he might wish to. He was perhaps the one person who she thought saw who she might be, if only she allowed herself to try. 

Her fingers clenched around one of her locs, feeling foolish all over again as the thoughts crossed her mind. Jacaerys is not for you, daughter. 

Rhaena had never thought him for her. She had only wished that he was.

A knock on her door startled her, and for a split second, she hoped that it was her father, even as she knew that it wouldn’t be. She could not bring herself to face the door as she called out to grant entry, instead watching it open in her vanity’s mirror. 

She’d gotten so distracted by her thoughts that she’d never oiled her scalp as she’d meant to, she realized, her ewer of oil sitting discarded on her vanity’s top. Her fingers were still slicked with it, smelling of rosemary and mint.

Rhaena wiped them on a nearby cloth as Jace walked into her room, the sight of him making her feel almost angry. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked quietly.

His face was lit by the fireplace and the candles that burned nearby, making his brown eyes look almost gold. It was far too late for his visit to be appropriate, and after her father’s words, it felt like she was being taunted with his presence. 

“You were acting strange at dinner,” Jace said, walking to where she sat at her vanity. “What’s wrong?”

She bit down on her lip, staring at her hands in her lap. Behind her, she could feel the heat of his body, only inches away. She wanted him to put his hands on her shoulders or her throat or her cheek. Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

It would be easier to lie to him, than to tell him the truth, but Rhaena did not think that he would believe her. Jace always knew when she was lying. Perhaps all of the time he had spent trailing his eyes over her face had revealed all of her little tells to him, and she could never keep anything from him again. 

Rhaena sighed, scared that her voice would break as she felt tears tighten her throat. “I do not think that my father cares for me.”

It was the first time that she’d ever uttered the words, and they were terrifying. She had always told herself that Daemon did love her, in his own way. But in the past months, she had come to fear that he couldn’t see past how she was more like Laena than him, and how she was simply less than Baela, and how she seemed to disappoint him constantly with her lack of a dragon. 

Jace didn’t answer for a long moment, and Rhaena knew that he was trying to think of a way that would comfort her without false words. Because he could not deny what she’d said. Not really. 

His hand landed heavy against her shoulder, and it was so hot through the silk of her nightgown that she imagined it was branding her. “Then that is a great loss for him,” Jace whispered, making Rhaena’s eyes flood with tears. 

She did not think that the things she asked for were too much. For her father to want her, when he wanted his other daughter and when he wanted his sons. To have a dragon, when everyone else in her family had been blessed with theirs. To be allowed to care for Jace as she wished, when Baela did not even wish to marry him and Rhaena did.

As foolish as she knew it was, she reached up and linked her fingers with Jace’s on her shoulder, her stomach clenching. “I disappoint him.”

His fingers twitched. “There is nothing to be disappointed by, Rhaena.”

She shook her head. “I’ve no dragon,” she whispered, ashamed. That was not what she had wished to say. But it always came back to that, with her, didn’t it? 

Suddenly, Jace turned her on her seat, his hands grabbing her face and forcing her to meet his gaze. His eyes burned, and for a moment, Rhaena imagined she could feel their path on her skin. “You do not need one, Rhaena,” he said, their faces so close that she could feel his breath brushing over her mouth. “You do not need to be anything other than you are. Kind and patient and loyal and you. If Daemon cannot see that knowing you is a blessing, then he is a greater fool than anyone has ever thought him.”

Jace does not lie to me, Rhaena reminded herself, her bottom lip wobbling. Grief and loneliness were so heavy inside of her that she thought she could sleep for a year. But Jace would not speak empty words simply to console her. He would not patronize her like everyone else always seemed to. 

She let herself sink into his palm, knowing that she would savor this brief moment long after he was gone. Long after they’d both been wed to other people and he was just another thing the gods had not granted her despite all of her prayers. “I am being childish.”

Jace shook his head. “You’re not,” he said solemnly. “Do you think I never feel as you do now? With the way people whisper? With the way they stare? I know what they think of me, jorrāeliarza. I wish that I could change who I am each time they look at me.” 

The endearment sent a shock up her back. Darling, dear, beloved. For all that they let themselves link their pinkies together and hope that the other knew what it meant, they did not speak their affections out loud. 

“I would not wish for you to be anything other than you are, Jacaerys,” Rhaena whispered, staring up at him through her lashes as she repeated his words. Perhaps, she thought, tears stinging her nose, other than mine in truth. 

☾𖤓

Chapter Text

“Rhaena. Rhaena! Wake up!”

Rhaena shot awake, confusion clouding her thoughts while her heart raced at being shaken from her sleep. She blinked, trying to clear her eyes, as if it would make the fact that Baela was in her bedchambers in the middle of the night make any sense. 

Baela hadn’t even been on Dragonstone when Rhaena had fallen asleep, much less in her rooms. Through the haze of sleep, she wasn’t certain if her sister was actually here or if she was seeing things. A particularly realistic dream, maybe, because though she’d never had one before, that made far more sense than the feel of Baela’s hands on her shoulders. 

“How did you get past the guards?” Rhaena asked, rubbing at her face. 

Baela straightened, her hands flexing at her sides. “I came in through the balcony.”

Rhaena sent an incredulous glance to her open balcony, as if expecting it to be closer to the ground suddenly, rather than a hundred feet in the air. But it was where it always was, which sparked the horrifying image of her sister jumping from her dragon’s back onto the stone railing. 

“You’re mad, Baela! What if you had fallen? What if Moondancer had not been close enough?!” 

Baela shook her head, her short braids whipping behind her. The room was dark, but moonlight streamed in, and in the silvery glow, Rhaena could see tears glinting on Baela’s cheeks. Alarm filled her, pushing out any bit of confusion or sleepiness that she’d felt. 

“Baela, what’s happened?” If she had come in the middle of the night and performed an idiotic stunt with Moondancer, it could be nothing good. “Is it Grandmother?”

In the dim light, Baela’s face crumpled, her eyes closing. “Helaena’s been betrothed to Aegon.”

Rhaena’s stomach dropped at the heartbreak in Baela’s voice. At the fact that she knew she could do nothing to make it better. Silently, she threw her quilt back and slid over to make room for Baela in her bed, folding their hands together when Baela climbed in, her shoulders shaking. 

“She sent me a raven tonight. We knew this would happen eventually,” Baela said quietly, her voice thin. “But that brings me no comfort.”

Rhaena nodded, rubbing her thumb over Baela’s in a paltry attempt at reassurance. She’d expected Baela to lose interest in her affair with Helaena years ago, but instead, the two of them had only grown closer. On the rare occasions that both sides of the Targaryen family came together, the two were hardly ever apart from one another. They were somewhat of an odd pair, but Baela’s face lit up whenever Helaena smiled at her, and Rhaena loved the sight of her sister’s happiness so much that she would never say anything about how much their closeness confused her. 

“I’m sorry,” Rhaena whispered. “What will you do?”

Baela shrugged, her breath coming out almost like a sob. Rhaena hadn’t heard Baela cry since their mother had died, she didn’t think. She hated to hear it now. 

“Convince her to run away to the Summer Isles with me, I suppose. Pray that Alicent changes her mind.”

Rhaena bit down on her lip. “Perhaps we can pay someone in Flea Bottom to kill him.”

It was no secret that their cousin spent more time in the city’s brothels than he did in the Keep. She did not think it would be so impossible to find someone willing to stab him for the right price. 

Baela laughed incredulously, the sound clogged with tears. “Rhaena!”

“Do you want my help or not, Baela? I’m trying to find solutions!”

Baela’s head fell to Rhaena’s shoulder, her breath shuddering out of her. “We cannot kill a prince. No matter how terrible a husband he will be.”

Rhaena’s eyes pricked when Baela’s voice broke. Her grief was not only for herself. Aegon was a drunken fool. Helaena’s life would not be happy with him, and she and Baela both knew it. 

“Are you certain?” Rhaena asked. She was willing to take the risk of being known as a kinslayer if it meant that Baela would never look so desolate ever again. 

Baela shook her head, a loose curl tickling Rhaena’s jaw. “Maybe if we try, we can simply postpone a marriage between them somehow. Or if I marry Jace first, I might convince him to take another wife.” She lifted her head and looked at Rhaena. “Two.”

Rhaena laughed, but the thought made her feel a little sick. She did not wish to share Jace– if she were ever lucky enough to have him. “He’d be horrified at the suggestion.”

“You’d have him to yourself,” Baela said, wiping an angry hand over her face. “It would all work out perfectly well.”

Rhaena grasped for a solution of sorts, but she could come up with nothing. “Can you become part of her retinue?” she asked after a moment, knowing that it would not truly solve anything. They’d be closer to one another if Baela was one of Helaena’s ladies, at least. 

Baela shook her head. “Alicent would never let me. She hates Father too much. And she thinks me little more than a hellion.”

They fell silent, sitting shoulder to shoulder in Rhaena’s bed, the air filled with Baela’s misery. Rhaena fiddled anxiously with the thin gold chain she always wore, the metal warmed from being pressed against her chest. The heavy pearl pendant was smooth and familiar against her finger tips, but it did nothing to soothe her as she traced her thumb over its curve. 

She’d not been jesting when she suggested they find someone in Flea Bottom to attack Aegon. Perhaps they should wait until after the wedding, she thought. Because then, Helaena could simply play the part of a grieving widow for the rest of her life and command that Baela live at her side as a companion. Not a perfect plan, but better than nothing, she supposed. 

She might even be able to convince Daemon to help, as Baela was his favorite daughter. When they were young, he’d often told them stories of his time in the city. There was no doubt he could sneak in and out of a brothel before anyone knew what had happened.

“I keep seeing their wedding in my mind,” Baela whispered suddenly, breaking the silence. “And the night after. All the ways Aegon might hurt her.” 

“Baela–.”

“She is soft, Rhaena. Sweet and– and fragile. He will not be gentle with her as she deserves. He’ll bruise her and not even care.”

Rhaena’s heart broke when Baela finally sobbed, the sound so unlike her sister that it made her own throat close. She forced Baela down until she laid on her side, pulling her covers over both of them. Between them, Baela gripped Rhaena’s hand so tightly that it ached, the little bones in her fingers grinding together as they laid facing one another, their tears wetting Rhaena’s pillow. 

☾𖤓

When Rhaena woke the next morning, Baela was gone, and no one seemed to know that she’d snuck to and from Dragonstone in the middle of the night. So when a raven from King’s Landing arrived during lunch, telling Rhaenyra of her siblings’ betrothal, Rhaena tried to act surprised, even as tears rushed to her eyes again. 

She could still hear Baela’s sobs, so devastated that they’d made Rhaena’s heart ache with sympathy. Her chest hurt now, and she stared down at the table top as an uncomfortable air settled over the table. Everyone here knew of Aegon’s demeanor: mean spirited and angry, only exacerbated by his fondness for wine and ale. Not a single one of them thought either he or Helaena would be happy within their marriage. And they all knew that Helaena would suffer the most for it. 

“It’s a wonder it’s taken Alicent so long to marry the girl to one of her whelps,” Daemon said, his voice irritated as it always was when he spoke of the Queen. “I’d have thought she’d be a mother twice over by now.”

Rhaena’s stomach churned at the thought of Helaena heavy with Aegon’s child. She was Jace’s age, seven and ten, and while there were many girls who had carried their first child by her age, Rhaena did not think Helaena would do well with it. She did not know her as well as Baela did, but Rhaena knew of Helaena’s... peculiarities. 

Certain textures and sounds made her face go pale, Rhaena thought uncomfortably, remembering how easily her cousin was overwhelmed. Helaena did not often care to be touched, even by Baela. Being with child would make her miserable, and if Baela was not allowed to be near her, Baela would be miserable as well. 

Rhaena heard Rhaenyra mutter something back, and Joffrey asked with a groan if this meant that they had to visit King’s Landing. The words seemed to go in and out of Rhaena’s ears, not a single one of them meaning anything to her in truth. By the time the meal had ended, she was ready to rush from the room, tears pricking at her eyes. 

Jace caught her by the arm when she rounded a corner, turning her toward him and tucking them into an alcove in the hall. “What’s wrong?”

Her bottom lip quivered, remembering the sound of Baela’s heartbreak. “Baela was here last night.”

His brows shot up, his hand spasming on her arm. “Where is she now?”

“I don’t know. She was gone when I woke up. But she–,” Rhaena’s voice broke. “She thinks that Aegon will hurt Helaena. She’s miserable.”

Jace rubbed his hands over his face. “She’s likely right,” he said. “Aegon’s not... he’s not kind.”

He’ll bruise her and not even care, Rhaena heard again. “I don’t know the last time I’ve seen Baela weep, Jace,” she whispered, her own tears spilling down her cheeks. She hurt for her sister, and for the pain Helaena would no doubt soon endure, and for the way that she could change none of it, no matter how badly she wanted to. 

Jace reached up and wiped the tears off of her face with his thumb, clucking his tongue gently. Since the night that she had told him she did not think Daemon cared for her, Jace had touched her more freely, and Rhaena loved and hated it all at once. 

“Do you wish to go find her?” he asked. 

“On Driftmark?”

Jace nodded, his hand cupping her face softly. His thumb ran over her cheek again, catching her tears.

Rhaena reached up and gripped at his wrist, his pulse beating against her fingertips. “Do you not have responsibilities to see to?”

Though Rhaenyra made the entire family take meals together, Jacaerys was often busy with his studies or training in the yard or trailing his mother as she ran her proxy court on the island. Very little was ever able to pull him away from that. 

“Not if Baela needs us. Not if you wish to go see to her,” he said gently. 

She nodded. “Then yes. Please.” Rhaena’s chest was so tight that she could hardly breathe at the thought of her sister’s grief driving her to do something foolish. “Now.”

☾𖤓

It hadn’t taken long for Jace to sneak them both to the Dragonmont, but the whole time, Rhaena had been terrified that someone would come across them and keep them from making the short flight to Driftmark. But no one had given them any care, and as Rhaena watched Jace finish saddling Vermax, some of the tightness in her chest disappeared. 

She reached a tentative hand out towards Vermax, smiling when he sniffed at her fingers and gave a grumbling purr, pressing his snout against her hand. He was ill behaved when any of the boys were around, snapping and huffing until Jace told him to stop, but he acted rather like a kitten with her and Baela. 

“Gevie zaldrīzes,” Rhaena cooed at him, trying to calm her anxiety by stroking her hand over the orange streaks that ran down either side of his head. “Dōna valītsos.”

“You talk to him as though he’s a babe,” Jace said, his face still tight with worry despite the laughter in his voice. 

Rhaena smiled, dropping a kiss against Vermax’s warm snout. “He’s a darling. Aren’t you, Vermax?”

Vermax gave a happy huff, knocking his head against Rhaena’s chest when she stopped petting him and sending her stumbling. Jace chastised his dragon and held a hand out for Rhaena once she had righted herself, helping her climb into the saddle. As she did every time one of her siblings let her atop their mounts, she imagined for a split second that it was hers. 

Rhaena wasn’t certain why she’d not been granted a dragon. She was not the first Targaryen to not ride, she knew, but she was the only one of them now without a dragon, and it often left her feeling small and displaced.

Aegon’s egg had recently hatched, a turquoise dragon who he’d named Stormcloud emerging from it, which left only Rhaena and Viserys without a dragon. Though she supposed it would not be long until Viserys’ egg hatched in kind. And as much as she did not want to be the only one in her family who was left dragonless, she would never wish for Viserys to feel as she had, and hoped that his hatchling would be as strong as hale as Stormcloud seemed to be. 

Underneath her, Vermax shifted and she tightened her arms around Jace’s waist as they pushed off of the ground. Her stomach dipped, the cold air suddenly whipping through her braids. 

If she had her own dragon, perhaps her father might not have cast her off so easily. Perhaps she would not have felt so small on her worst days. And she might have had more power of her own. Or agency, at least. A way for her to run to her sister on her own, rather than relying on Jace’s kindness to carry her the short distance between Dragonstone and Driftmark. 

Rhaena let her body slump forward, her forehead resting against Jace’s warm back. Worry was making her sick, but the feel of him against her front was soothing. She closed her eyes, muttering prayers against his back as the air cooled around them. One of his hands pressed over hers briefly, his gloved fingers warm and soft. 

“Sumby ñuha mandia,” Rhaena murmured, her eyes stinging. Guide my sister. “Mīsagon Helaena.” Shield Helaena. Rhaena was not even certain who exactly she was speaking to, only that she feared her family would need intervention from something greater than herself. “Tepagon īlva mirre dārōñe.” Grant us all grace.

☾𖤓

“It was irresponsible, Jacaerys!” Rhaena heard Rhaenyra shout through the closed door, the anger in her step mother’s voice making her cringe. 

When she and Jace had fled, Rhaena hadn’t considered the consequences. She’d only cared to make certain that Baela had been well. Which she hadn’t, really. Her eyes had been bloodshot from her tears and the posts of her bed had been hacked to bits with a sword, splinters littering the mattress and the floor. 

Rhaena wasn’t even sure where Baela had gotten a sword, but her confusion over the blade had dissipated the moment that Baela had started sobbing against Jace’s chest. Eventually, Baela had calmed herself, muttering that she would be fine. Jace’s face had gone stony and he had pulled both Baela and Rhaena to his front. When Rhaena had glanced up at him, his eyes were distant. Calculating, almost, as if he was planning something. 

Now, Rhaena sat in the hall outside Rhaenyra’s chambers, occasionally catching one of Rhaenyra’s angry shouts as she upbraided Jace. Knights had been waiting for them on the Dragonmont when they’d landed on Dragonstone, and they’d drug them to Rhaenyra as soon as they’d dismounted Vermax. 

Rhaena heard Jace’s voice, so muffled by the door that she couldn’t make out his words, followed by a sharp exclamation from his mother. From the corner of her eye, Rhaena saw the toes of shining black boots and she looked up at her father, her skin prickling uncomfortably. 

“Leaving was foolish, Rhaena,” Daemon said quietly. 

“Leaving was nothing you yourself would not have done if you so pleased, Father.”

Daemon raised a single pale brow, and the sight of it rankled. Since the night that she had finally confessed that she did not think her father cared for her, she tried to tell herself that she did not care what he thought of her. But she was not very skilled at believing it. 

“You cannot simply flee the island with Jacaerys.”

Rhaena’s bottom lip wobbled at the chastisement in his voice, and she bit down on it to keep herself from crying. “I needed to see Baela.”

Daemon glanced up at the ceiling and shook his head, looking suddenly exasperated. “She’ll survive this.”

Rhaena’s brows slammed down. Did he know about Baela and Helaena? Did Rhaenyra? Did Alicent? Baela had been far more thoughtful with keeping this secret than she was with most other things, but the way that Daemon spoke was far too knowing. 

“I don’t know what you’re speaking of,” Rhaena lied. No matter what she suspected he did or didn’t know, she wouldn’t betray Baela’s secret to their father.

Daemon sighed and crouched down in front of her. They were eye level now, and Rhaena’s fingers curled around the edge of the bench she sat on. She was uncertain of the last time she’d had his undivided attention, it was strangely unnerving to have it now. 

“Rhaena.”

“Father.”

His eyes narrowed, the dark purple looking almost black. “Baela is not the first to wish for someone she is not allowed to have, daughter. She will ache, and then she will survive it.”

Anger lashed up Rhaena’s back so fast that it almost made her dizzy. Who was Daemon to speak thus? He had been allowed to carouse and explore and whore as he pleased, and still, he had been given the woman he coveted for years, still been given the sons he’d always wished for. There were days when Rhaena felt certain that he saw Laena as nothing more than a stepping stone to his current wife- his current life-, and the thought made her ill. 

When she was younger, Rhaena loved looking at her parents, certain that they loved one another. But when Daemon and Rhaenyra had wed so soon after Laena’s death... perhaps that had been the first moment in time where Rhaena’s trust in her father fractured. And the tiny little cracks had only deepened with each moment he failed her. 

“Easy for you to say, isn’t it?” she asked angrily, her voice breaking. “When you’ve gotten everything you have ever wanted. Forced it, even.”

She saw the moment her words hit him, pricking at his pride. He straightened, shedding any guise of patience. “And what have you been denied in your life, Rhaena?” He spoke slowly to her, as though he was trying to cut her with his words. 

On most days, Rhaena thought herself rather level headed. She was soft spoken and levelheaded, and by far the calmest of the siblings. Still, she was her father’s daughter, for better or worse, and she felt her temper rise now. 

There was no denying that she had been far more privileged than so many others. She had never wanted for material things or food or a roof over her head. But what had she been denied? 

A life with her mother. She had been denied Daemon, for reasons she did not understand, even after hours of combing over her life, trying to figure out why her father could not seem to care for her as he did his other children. She had been denied her godsdamned legacy as a Targaryen when her cradle egg had refused to hatch for years and when her dear, poor hatchling had fought to cling to life in her arms. 

She had been denied a place in her family as a result, though they had not meant to make her feel that way. She had been denied respect and belonging and the chance to ever be seen as anything other than lacking. 

Rhaena pushed from her seat, standing toe to toe with her father. No amount of explaining herself would ever make its way past the way she had bruised Daemon’s pride. And fighting suddenly felt far more effortless than being sweet and easy. “What have you?”

“You’ve grown irritable, daughter,” Daemon said, the insult low.

She hadn’t, though. She’d simply stopped letting him speak without any opposition. Rhaena loved her father, truly, but he was not kind. And his own pride was far more important to him than most other things. 

A voice in the back of her head whispered that perhaps that was why he could not care for her. She was a disappointment, in his eyes. Far too soft for him to see traces of himself within her. Far too unworthy to have been granted a dragon.

Rhaena’s mouth flattened. “As you have always been. Perhaps I’ve learned it from you.”

As soon as Rhaena said it, she regretted letting the words leave her mouth. She could not despair over her father not caring for her and in the next breath seek to antagonize him, she did not think. 

Daemon’s gaze went even sharper, his angular face looking shadowed and dangerous. But she did not think he looked truly angry. There was an edge of something that looked almost like understanding about him, but Rhaena could not say what his new understanding was. 

The door to Rhaenyra’s chambers opened, cutting off whatever hurtful reply Daemon had surely been about to make. Rhaena crossed her arms over her chest as Jace walked out of the room. Daemon sent her a look that she couldn’t make sense of before the door closed behind him, leaving her and Jace alone in the hall. 

“She’ll wish to speak with you when they’re done,” Jace said, joining Rhaena at her side. 

She looked down at her feet, dragging her toe over the stone floor. “Is she very angry?”

In Rhaena’s periphery, she could see his hands flexing at his sides. “I’d do it again.”

“That’s not what I asked you, Jacaerys.”

He stepped closer, but Rhaena could not bring herself to look at him. “Both of us will be stuck with extra lessons for at least two moons.”

“Better lessons than lashes,” she muttered. Still, she wasn’t thrilled.

“What did your father say?” Jace asked.

Between Rhaena’s shoulderblades, her skin prickled. She didn’t know if it was with anxiety or anger or something else entirely. “He knows about Baela and Helaena, I think.” 

“Did he–”

“And I do not think that he cares that she's hurt,” Rhaena rushed to say, speaking over Jace. Part of her had hoped that Daemon would do something ridiculous in Baela’s defense, she realized. He was The Rogue Prince. He was reckless and passionate. He did as he pleased, no matter how it may harm others. Surely ensuring his daughter’s happiness was not too much to expect of him. 

Jace sighed. “Do you trust me, Rhaena?”

She finally looked up at him through her lashes, confused by his sudden question. “Of course I do.”

His jaw flexed again, a vein there ticcing. “Will you let me keep a secret?” he asked quietly. “This single one.”

Rhaena flinched at the words, unexpected as they were. In the years since he’d promised to be honest with her, he always had been. She could not imagine why he would so suddenly wish to keep something from her now. And the thought that he did made her stomach turn uncomfortably. She did not have many things she thought she could fully call her own. Jace’s honesty was one of them. 

Her mouth opened and closed for a moment. “If I asked... would you tell me what it was?”

With no hesitation, Jace nodded, his face serious. 

Rhaena bit down on the inside of her cheek so hard that she tasted iron. She believed him. Whatever it was he did not wish to share with her... she believed that he had a reason for it. 

“Keep your secret,” Rhaena said. 

Jace reached up to cup her face, his calloused fingers rough against her cheek. Rhaena’s breath stalled in her lungs at the touch, far more purposeful than he usually allowed himself. Slowly, he lowered his lips to her other cheek, the movement so soft that tears rushed to her eyes. 

“All will be well,” he promised, his lips moving softly against her cheek. She hadn’t the slightest idea what he was speaking of so solemnly, but his touch was so sincere that she knew he was doing what he thought was best. And whatever it was, foolish as she may be, she trusted him. 

☾𖤓

Nearly two months later, Rhaena had hardly seen Jace in more than passing. At first, she’d not thought much of Rhaenyra’s punishment for them sneaking off to Driftmark. Extra lessons did not seem so terrible in theory. Rhaena rather liked to learn new things, and where Baela had always been far too impatient to sit still for lessons, Rhaena thrived under attention from her tutors. 

But when Rhaena had been given a septa- despite the fact that she was far too old for one-, and extra guards had been posted at her door during the evenings, the intent behind Rhaenyra’s punishment became far clearer. She and Jace could not sneak away together if they were always with teachers or chaperones or guards. They would never have the chance to. 

She did not think the isolation would be so terrible if Baela hadn’t been confined to Driftmark for the past two months as well. Letters from her sister did not ease Rhaena’s worries, and especially not when they often came with holes in the parchment, where Baela had scratched her words out so angrily that her quill tore right through the page. 

Rhaena didn’t dare ask her sister about Helaena as the wedding approached, and with each day she and Baela were kept apart, anxiety settled cold and insistent in her chest. She dreaded the day the family would come together in King’s Landing. If Baela did not do something idiotic, then Aemond and Luke would surely fight, or Aegon would say something inappropriate and Jace would react, or Rhaenyra and Alicent would glare at each other until the air in the room was as frigid and brittle as ice. 

Abandoning her embroidery, Rhaena rubbed her hands over her face. She was already in a poor mood, there was no reason to make it worse by thinking about the chaos that would certainly ensue in less than three weeks. Other than a letter from Baela early in the morning, the importance of today had gone without mention, and Rhaena was unsure if that made anger or grief settle in her heart. 

Because surely someone other than the twins should have remembered that it was the anniversary of their mother’s death, she thought. 

Ten years had passed since the day Laena had finally succumbed to her hard labor. And there was a part of Rhaena that understood how time dulled the ache of the loss. Even she sometimes went days without feeling it so acutely. But on this day, she could not forget, and she hated that it seemed others could. 

She glanced across the room at where her new septa sat, her own embroidery in her lap. The woman was kind enough, but she watched Rhaena like a hawk, her eyes sharp as she followed her every move. Rhaena bit down on her lip, trying to think of how she might escape her company, even if only for a breath.

Having a single moment to herself suddenly felt like the most important thing Rhaena could do as the grief of losing her mother washed over her again. Her hands tensed in her lap and she cleared her throat. 

“Septa Lorren,” Rhaena said softly, fixing her expression into one of piety as the woman looked up at her. “I’d like to visit the sept.”

☾𖤓

Rhaena opened her eyes slowly, glancing at Septa Lorren. She was still praying, her eyes closed and her head bowed. Carefully, Rhaena pushed from her knees, watching her septa’s mouth move in silent prayer. If she moved slowly enough, she could sneak from the Father’s altar and slip from the sept before Lorren had finished her prayers. 

There was no one else here now, thankfully. Rhaena knew that making her escape would not have come so easily if there were too many people gathered within, and she sent up a brief expression of thanks to whatever new or old god had seen fit to let her reach the doors without someone seeing her.

Her breath rushed out of her when she latched the door silently behind her, the relief of being alone so sweet that she felt a brief rush to her head. But until she was out of the palace and truly hidden in the cliffs, Rhaena was at risk of being collected and forced back under Lorren’s supervision. 

She avoided any halls where she thought her family may be lingering, terrified that each time she turned a corner, she would find her father waiting for her. By the time she had miraculously managed to slip from the palace, Rhaena was close to weeping, frustration and anger and grief for her mother mixing together until she was nauseated. 

The ground crunched beneath Rhaena’s feet as she rushed towards the cliffs, taking in a great gulp of cool air. She did not think that she was old enough to feel as tired as she did as of late. And it was only made worse by not knowing why she felt so dull. 

Rhaena enjoyed her life. She loved her siblings and her life on the island. She loved the attention of court and the freedom to practice her hobbies and all of the other privileges that her position offered her. She loved herself, in truth, but the past months had taken something from her, be it her hope or her naivety or the confidence that she tried so hard to cling to. 

After what felt like hours, Rhaena finally climbed down to a familiar clearing on the side of the island, her nose and eyes stinging. The small clearing was high above the sea, partially hidden from below by jutting rocks. It could not even be called a clearing, she didn’t think, as small as the flat expanse of rock was, but it was well hidden, and that was all Rhaena needed. 

She sighed and let herself fall to the soft grass beneath her, shutting her eyes to cut off the tears she could feel burning along her lashes. She’d lived longer now without her mother than she had with her, and that thought made her feel cold and hollow inside. She lifted a hand to rub at her chest, as if it would make the ache there go away.

Opening her eyes, Rhaena found the sky blue and bright above her, free of any clouds. She rather hated how lovely a day it was. Despite the chill in the air, the sky was clear, shining like the sapphires Luke wore in his rings. Even the grass beneath Rhaena’s back was verdant and soft, not yet withering away as the weather began to cool. 

With her mood feeling as black as it did, Rhaena thought that the skies should be darkened with clouds. That the heavens should split open and spill rain down to mourn the loss of Laena. That the seas should rebel to have her given back to it so much sooner than was fair, crashing and breaking against the beach. 

The distant bugle of a dragon somewhere on the island finally made Rhaena’s tears track hot and angry down her cheeks. For years after her egg had hatched, Rhaena had let herself come to this very spot by herself, hoping foolishly that she might somehow find a dragon or another egg waiting for her, as if the gods had left it there for her. But she had never found anything here other than a patch of grass and wildflowers.

“Rhaena?”

Rhaena flinched when she heard her name and pushed up to see Jace looking down at her from the top of the cliff, his brows furrowed as he leaned over the edge. She didn’t answer as he made his way down the path to where she sat, her heart leaden in her chest. It suddenly felt strange to be alone with him, when their parents had done everything they could to keep them apart for months. 

“Your septa sounded the alarm that she lost track of you,” Jace said, lowering himself next to her. “The whole palace is looking for you.”

Rhaena frowned. “You’ve come to collect me, then?” she asked. Not many people knew of this spot, she had hoped that she would be able to hide for a bit longer. 

Jace shook his head. “No, I just wanted to see if you were well. I’ll just say I didn’t find you when I go back.”

Rhaena pulled her knees up against her chest and shoved her face into her skirts, not wanting him to see her tears. She wasn’t even sure why she was crying now. For her mother or for herself. Both, maybe. 

Jace’s hand settled against her back, hot and heavy through her dress. Slowly, he stroked up and down her spine, the touch so comforting that Rhaena thought she could melt beneath it. 

“Are you well?” he asked after a moment. When she didn’t answer, he kept touching her, his hand stealing up beneath her braids to play with the curls that escaped around the nape of her neck. He sighed. “I know you can’t be today. I’m not... I never feel well on the day that my father died.”

Rhaena let out a shuddering breath at the realization that he knew what day it was. She didn’t know if Rhaenyra and Daemon had forgotten or if they’d simply not thought to speak of it with her, but neither of those felt acceptable. They were busy, she knew. They had responsibilities to their family, the crown, the island. But still... Laena had been important to them, had she not? As she was important to Rhaena and Baela? 

Jace’s hand drifted back down her spine. “My mother does not often speak of him with me,” he continued. “Not Laenor or Harwin, in truth.”

Rhaena looked up when he acknowledged Ser Harwin, surprised that he had said the man’s name at all. Were there not whispers of him being the older boys’ father, she did not think Jace would be so duty bound and rigid, often acting aged far beyond his years. She wiped at her eyes clumsily with her sleeves. “Why?”

Jace slid his hand down over her shoulder until he could link their fingers together, his touch chasing off the chill that was steadily numbing Rhaena’s fingers. “I think...,” his voice trailed off and she sighed. “I think she gets angry when she remembers the people she’s lost. That it’s easier to sometimes push aside their memory at all. To only think of them in passing.”

Rhaena felt the exact opposite, she thought. She did not want to pretend that she had never known her mother, or to only think of Laena when she found a piece of jewelry she had once owned or when she found a particularly pretty shell on the beach. Her mother had been vibrant and kind and so deeply alive that it seemed such a shame to let time dull her memory. 

“It’s a flaw,” Rhaena whispered, terrified that he would rebuff her for speaking of his mother in such a way. She loved Rhaenyra, but she was angry with her; had been angry with her for a long while, truthfully. 

Jace only nodded. “I know, Rhaena.”

They were silent for what felt like ages, listening to the sea crash below them and the gulls cry as they flew overhead. Jace did not do anything other than wrap his arm around Rhaena when she started to cry again, quietly at first, then louder as she finally let her grief and her anger loose themselves from inside her. 

He kissed her on the crown of her head, and the touch was so tender that a sob tore from her lips. “Do you wish to speak of her?”

Rhaena nodded, but try as she might, she could not steady her breath again. Each time she tried to speak, her chest hitched, another ugly sob escaping her. Jace rubbed his hand up and down her arm, pulling her closer to his side. 

“My father used to tell me about her,” he whispered against her locs. “He said that she was far bolder than him as a child.”

Her breath shuddered out of her again as he began speaking, her fingers coming up to clutch at his tunic. In her chest, some of the ice around her heart began to thaw as he spoke about Laena, giving Rhaena what he could, even having never met her mother. 

“Did she ever tell you of when they stole our grandsire’s wine from Essos?” he asked. He pressed another kiss to her hair when she shook her head, as if he could not keep himself from doing so now that he’d done it once. “My father said that it was your mother’s idea to sneak into Corlys’ study, but I doubt very much that he offered much resistance to it.”

Rhaena let out a pathetic sounding little laugh, imagining a far younger version of Laena sneaking through the halls of Driftmark in the dead of night with Laenor. “How old were they?”

Jace shrugged. “It was before he married my mother, is all I know. He might have been five and ten. Your mother was two years older than him, was she not?”

Rhaena nodded, wiping her eyes again. “She was not so daring once we were born, I don’t think.”

“She might have just been waiting for the two of you to be older. Safer to cause chaos with.”

Rhaena laughed, her tears finally stopping their steady flow. Her eyes burned a little, but her breath was coming easier. “Maybe so. She must have been. To fly Vhagar as she did.”

Jace nodded, turning his head to look down at Rhaena. “I know,” he paused and cleared his throat like he was uncertain of his next words. “I know that I did not ever have the chance to know her. But my father spoke of her with so much admiration that it feels as though I sometimes did.”

Rhaena nodded, suddenly unable to look away from the warm gold that spread like sunburst around Jace’s pupils. 

“You are very like how he used to speak of her,” Jace said softly, his cheekbones gone slightly red. “Sweet and brave. Lovely enough that it feels difficult to look away at times.”

Rhaena did not feel brave often. Not in the way Baela seemed or the way that people spoke of Laena being. There were moments when she pushed past her proclivity to please others and spoke to defend herself or her siblings. There were moments when her anger felt so overwhelming that she snapped, most often when she spoke to her father. 

But very rarely did she think to take what she wanted for herself with no second thoughts. She was far too concerned with consequences and the future and the crushing weight of other’s disappointment. 

She wanted to be brave now, as she pushed to her knees and held Jace’s gaze, her bottom lip shaking. Jace’s hand landed haltingly against her hip, his fingers flexing over and over on the curve of her waist. Consequences be damned, she thought, her eyes dropping to his mouth and shooting back up again. 

Where the shape of Jace’s fingers rested against her side, a heat radiated, flushing over her skin and warming her heart and settling low and languid behind her navel. She nodded, just barely, to herself. Rhaena was brave, she told herself. And she would take just one thing for herself, even if the gods may punish her for it. 

Slowly, Rhaena lowered her face to Jace’s until their mouths met, her hands landing uncertainly against his shoulders. Part of her expected him to push her off and tell her that- even if he wished to- they couldn’t touch one another like this. Instead, his grip on her waist went tight and harsh for a split second before he relaxed again, his other hand lifting to rest against the back of her neck like he didn’t want her to pull away. 

Her gasp died against his mouth, relieved and shocked. She pulled back briefly before pushing forward and kissing him again, growing more confident each moment that they stayed pressed together. Their movements were slightly clumsy, their hands not moving from where they had first rested them, too uncertain and scared to do any more.

Still, Rhaena’s skin buzzed with pleasure when Jace’s tongue swiped across her bottom lip and his nose bumped against hers. With more confidence, she slid her hands up his shoulders to rest against the sides of his neck. His bare skin burned hers, and she tilted her head, pressing another kiss against Jace’s mouth. 

Under Rhaena’s pinky, she felt the smooth metal of the gold chain Jace always wore beneath his shirt. She’d never given whatever the necklace was much thought. Occasionally, she would catch glimpses of it when his collar moved, but she did not think that she had ever seen it pulled from his tunic, much less seen what must hang on the chain. 

It was likely from Laenor or Rhaenyra, Rhaena thought, her heart pounding when Jace kissed her again. Possibly even a trinket from Viserys. Whatever it was, he must have held it dear to him. Suddenly, there was something in her that demanded to know what it was he wore so near to his heart. 

Her pinky wrapped around the chain, slowly slipping it from where it hung against his chest. She pulled back from him, glancing down between them. The hand Jace held against the nape of her neck slipped down her back, his chest rising and falling with his heavy breaths. 

“Oh,” Rhaena murmured, all at once certain that she would begin to weep again. 

In the palm of her hand was a familiar gold ring, set with small pearls and brightly colored blue and red enamel, the very same one that she had given him so long ago. The very one she thought he’d long since lost. 

She looked up at him, finding that his cheeks had gone red again. “You kept it?” she whispered. “You wear it?”

Jace nodded, lifting his hands to cup her face. He wiped away her tears, though she did not think they were fully born of grief this time, not with the way that tenderness was beating inside of her chest. 

“I’m never without it, Rhaena.”

She dropped the ring, watching where it fell directly over his heart. The words he didn’t speak hung between them, tinged with hope and fear; colored with affection that was dangerous for both of them to continue feeling. 

I am never without you.

☾𖤓