#i grieve the version of hotd i have in my head

[lullaebies]

I'm still thinking about Aegon affirming verbally that Helaena is the Queen in episode 1. I'm still thinking of what we could've had if Helaena was allowed to care about being pushed aside in her own role as Queen by everyone else - her own mother taking her seat in the council; about how helaegon could've connected over being unseen in the height of their preceived power, and perhaps even try to work together to show everyone they are worth it, more than Viserys, more than Alicent, more than Rhaenyra, more than Daemon, more than anyone who they are compared to. Even if it would be for a little while, even if it's just before B&C shatters their perceptions and their worth again, for a moment they could've found redemption for themselves, for a moment they could believe they could be something everyone told them they can't be.

[inkareds]

Who We Are

Jacaerys Velaryon

7/10 - Unreal Unearth Event

nav // event masterlist // hotd m.list // ko-fi

✧.* word count: 6.9k ✧.* genre: angst w/ comfort ✧.* warnings: female reader (mainly bcs it's canon universe and I wasn't sure about the gn version of Queen), heavy spoilers for what happens in the book but it still is canon divergence

"You and I burned out our steam // Chasing someone else's dream // How can somethin' be so much heavier // But so much less than it seems // Darling, we sacrificed // We gave our time to somethin' undefined"

War changes people

as always lyric breakdown at the end, also this took a while to write lmao, I feel like Jace is kinda ooc but I'm not sure

“Husband, you should rest,” you whisper bringing the fur-lined coat your dearest Jacaerys had placed on the chair beside him over his shoulders. 

He rouses from his sleep at your soft voice and the weight of the warm cloth. You smile softly as Jacaerys opens his eyes, slightly dazed from the clear lack of sleep. Leaning your body so that your face may be levelled with his own that’s laid atop his hands on the table, you pressed a chaste kiss to the crown of his head. 

“Shall I lead us back to our bedchambers or shall I make us both tea for the long night ahead?” You spoke and lightly brushed some of his hair away. 

Ever since his travel to Winterfell, he’s been growing out his hair more and more. His dark curls framed his face in a way that made you positively melt. 

As if finally registering your words, Jacaerys shook his head and straightened his body from his hunched-over self from falling asleep. You take a few steps back as he stretches, groaning at his aching muscles from the uncomfortable position. 

“Neither,” he groans out, his voice dry and deep from the slumber he was in. Your eyebrows quirked at his answer, “I will make myself tea and you shall return to bed.” Jacaerys explained, causing a frown to bring itself to your lips. 

“It is our bed and you shall join me or I will not go at all.” You defiantly cross your arms. 

Jacaerys sighs and leans back forward on his elbows, bringing a hand to his temple. The only light illuminating either of you was the morbid amount of candles strewn around to keep the room bright even in the darkest night. Jacaerys found himself in his solitary room, working day and night with his commanders and councilmembers. Before meeting with his mother and doing the same thing. 

Day and night he has worked tirelessly. You suspected this of course, with the war at its course, you knew he would spend more time consulting with his men, mother, papers, and swords than you. You did not mind it whatsoever until you noticed it had started taking a toll on him. 

Every time you saw him, whether it was in the brightness of sunlight or the darkness of moonlight, his eyes grew more sunken and tired. Though he kept his body physically strong and you were sure he was getting rest here and there after you have long slumbered. You worried for his mind and sanity. 

You had hoped after Lucerys’ death and his return from Winterfell he’d be more willing to your coaxing to rest. Yet, the contrary had ensued. 

“I do not wish to argue,” he looked up at you with desperation and for a second you almost relented. If only he didn’t look so tired. 

“I do not wish for it either, but you must rest Jacaerys. You have slaved yourself in this solitary world of yours for many moons.” You exasperatedly tried to explain to him without sounding like you were whining. “I doubt you’ve even grieved for dearest Lucerys-” 

“What do you know about how I have grieved for my brother?!” he slammed the table and rose. 

For any other women and perhaps many men, they would back down. Cower at the usually cordial and respectful though stern heir’s sudden rise in tone. But you knew Jacaerys Velaryon. You’ve known him almost your entire life. You’ve fallen for every part of him, the good, the bad, and the troubled. Of which he had many, contrary to the smallfolk’s belief. 

Jacaerys was tired and as such his patience was at a short fuse. You simply had to be understanding. It is your duty as his wife to do so. 

“I apologise for inferring as such, my love. You know I do not mean it that way.” You reached out to touch him, bringing your palm to his cheek. 

His brows furrowed and his frown deepened but he did not pull away from your affections. Even closes his eyes at the feeling of a kind touch after all the brutalities he’s had to think of for the upcoming battles and scuffles likely to happen in war. 

“I mean it in the way that for your sake you should take some time. I am not asking for weeks or even days. I’m asking for a night. A single night when you can sleep in my arms and I could comfort you whole. If by daylight I rouse and you’re already long gone I will not fault you. I know you have much to do. But tonight, rest with me.” 

Throughout your words you brought a hand to Jacaerys’ chest, bringing your bodies closer and feeling his heartbeat. At times the feel or sound of it was the only thing keeping you calm amidst the horrors of war. The fact that he was alive was much more than enough for you. But you do not wish of him to bleed dry for the throne. You wish for him to thrive and he could only do as such if he rested. 

After a soft silence, Jacaerys nodded. He turned towards you and gave you a warm smile, one that made your heart flutter and your mind remembers over and over again the boy you fell in love with so long ago. 

“Perhaps you are right, all of this can wait for tomorrow.” Your smile widened at his words, though he opened his mouth once more to say something, “I- I did not mean to raise my voice at you.” 

He looked deep into your eyes as he said it, begging you to believe him. Of course, you did. 

“My beloved Jacaerys, I know.” 

Jacaerys let out a sigh of relief before reaching to grab both your hands in his and bringing your knuckles to his lips, leaving a soft kiss on it. 

“You are far too kind my sweetheart.” 

Just like that the two of you would leave the room for your bedchambers. For the first time in a while, you finally slept at the same time as your dearest husband. Though if only you knew it would be a very long time before the next time you would do so. 

As the days bled together, you found yourself almost as busy as Jacaerys, though with things much less important than the things which busied him. Due to Lucerys’ death and the impending war, most if not all of the royal family are busy with preparations for the battles up ahead. 

Daemon wanted to quickly arrange battle plans after battle plans, engrossing himself in the meticulous training of his men. Rhaenyra found herself on a balancing beam of being the queen of the realm and a grieving mother. Jacaerys took many of Rhaenyra’s duties after Lucerys’ death, giving his mother ample time to rest. Baela and Rhaena didn’t fare any better, as they grieved, Baela would mount her dragon more and more. 

Many of the mundane yet needed royal duties fell onto the second in command, whether that were Rhaenyra’s councilmen, Jacaerys’ councilmen, or even you. As Jacaerys wife, you hold a significant amount of power. Especially after the people’s oath to Rhaenyra as Queen. More often than not, when it came to the mundane day-to-day business that needed to be managed but wasn’t as important as gold or wars, the men who dealt with them reported to you. 

It wasn’t hard work, many of it had to do with the construction of buildings here and there. Food supplies and trade routes to ensure a stable economy. Communication between the lower houses which had less priority than the major houses. Those things laid on you to then present to Jacaerys, who would only hear the abridged version, relaying that version to his mother. 

It kept your mind busy but your heart heavy. 

As what little time you had been able to spend with Jacaerys had now been dwindled into nothing. You suspect you’d have to get used to it, once Jacaerys rises to the throne, you’d have to deal with so much more as queen consort. Especially considering the state of the Kingdom after the war is over would likely not be as stable as it once was. 

But it didn’t mean it weighed any less in your heart. You missed your husband, you missed sleeping in his arms, you missed his lighthearted smile and small chuckles, and you missed telling him about your day. You missed the time when both of you were children and hearing all the stories of Old Valryia he’d learnt from his mother and the Maesters. 

You felt as though your relationship with Jacaerys was straining. Not by either of your faults but more by the lack of interactions the two of you have shared outside of tense-filled talks of war strategies. 

It fully ripped apart after the Battle at Rook’s Nest. Rhaenys Velaryon and Melys were no more. 

At her funeral, you held onto Jacaerys’ hand as Rhaenyra called for Syrax to burn her. You felt Jacaerys hold your hand tightly as he forced himself to hold a brave face. In consolation, you could only hold his hand against both of yours and offer some solace. 

The events which followed after concerned you. 

“Where are you going?” 

One day, you find Jacaerys quickly putting on his riding gear at midday in your shared bedchambers. You hadn’t expected him to be taking a break from the work and ride his dragon and so you knew he was going somewhere. 

“To meet Addam of Hull,” he replied curtly, securing his clothing against himself. 

“What for?” You wanted to help so you took the courtesy to grab his gloves and hand them to him. A small thank you was his response as he put it on. 

“I have made an agreement with the queen and the sea snake, we need as many dragonriders as possible. We have the dragons, we do not have nearly as many riders. Daemon calls them dragonseeds, potential Targaryen bastard children who have sworn to my mother. The deal was if they successfully bonded with a dragon they would be honoured a noble title.” 

Your brows furrowed. 

“Are you going alone?” 

“Yes, if this is true then I need to convince him. Asking a man to put his life on the line to try and ride a dragon is not something easily asked for.” 

That was when you stopped him. Jacaerys was rushing and at this point, he had finished preparing himself for the ride but you had stepped in the way between the door and himself. 

“And put yourself in danger? Jacaerys, are you positively sure that this Addam of Hull is who he says he is? What if this was a trap set by Aegon or Alicent? You can’t go alone. If you are hurt then at best we lose a strong dragon rider for some moons due to your injuries, at worst I may lose you.”

Jacaerys sighs but he can see some truth in what you were saying. He was taking a gamble by meeting Addam alone, but during his discussion with his family both he and Daemon agreed that finding these dragonseeds found priority over many other things. If the Greens caught wind of their tactic they may either steal it for their own or intercept their means to do so. 

By meeting Addam directly it allows Jacaerys some semblance of control over the strategy he first brought up. 

Control he’s been lacking ever since the people closest to him had started dying like flies. 

So he placed his hand on your cheek and leaned to press a kiss to the crown of your head. 

“I hear your concern, but I am confident in this. Have some trust in your beloved husband.” He chuckled into your hair and pulled away to stare deep into your concern-laden eyes. 

Angling himself to press a chaste kiss into your lips, you practically melt in his arms. The moment was intimate and soft. If not for the feeling of harsh leather underneath your fingertips that laid on his body becoming a stark reminder of his next actions. 

When he pulled away there was a short silence before you moved out of the way with gritted teeth. For a moment you wished he would listen to your concerns for his safety more. Time and time again you find yourself wondering if Jacaerys was plunging into danger he would not be able to pull himself out of. 

He is not Daemon Targaryen, who you’re convinced has taken the favour of some god in return for the ability to not die despite the many perilous battles he’s been in. You hope Jacaerys understands that. 

A couple of hours later he would return in the afternoon, though this time with more bruises than he left with. 

You gritted your teeth as the maester recounted to you what your husband refused to tell you. After his return you had only a glimpse of his scuffed-up wear, only to be quickly brushed aside as he makes his way to the dragonpit with Addam of Hull. The maester who treated him, whom you had to quite literally threaten to fess up the injuries of your husband had informed you of what happened. 

Addam was who he said he was, recounts have found records of his Targaryen lineage. But in the process, the two of them had unknowingly walked into a scuffle with the King’s Guard who pursued both Jacaerys and Addam until the two could leave on Vermax. 

When the deep night came Jacaerys found you still awake in your bedchambers, unable to sit still or do anything until you could speak to him. At the sight of you, Jacaerys sighs, he knows what is coming. 

“Wife, please.” 

“I told you to be careful-”

“I know-”

“I told you you could get hurt-”

“I know-”

“What if you had been badly injured?!”

“My love, I know.” Jacaerys, with the patience of a saint and the understanding that comes from also being in the same position as you were in the past. 

He knew what it felt like to be a bystander in the violence of life, he watched his mother get cut to shield him and his brother from his step-grandmother. Only e to watch as she winces at getting stitched. And so he knows what it is like to be worried. To feel helpless. 

“I know I should’ve listened to you,” he nears you and holds your face in both his hands, looking down on you with so much love in his eyes that you could only offer him silence in return for his devotion. “But had I done so, Addam of Hull may never have claimed Seasmoke.” 

Your eyes widened and slowly a smile crossed your features. 

“He did it? He claimed the dragon?” 

Jacaerys grins and nods with you as you’re filled with a renewed sense of hope. 

“Yes, we may win this war without much fight anyways, my love.” 

Despite your clear hesitation in all the manners of how Jacaerys handled his wars, at least that night he was safe and sound and in your arms again. 

The months that followed would go as such, you’d watch in horror as Jacaerys would take more and more risks for the crown. The last strike in which you wondered if he was going too far was when Viserys II and Aegon III were attacked. Had you not begged and pleaded for him to wait a little longer for Addam to finish gearing up to help him, feeling he was jumping into danger unprepared, Jacaerys would’ve died. 

Arguments after arguments followed after that. Especially after Viserys II died in the Battle of the Gullet and the sacking of Spicetown causing the death of many of Corlys’ men. 

After that, every decision that followed Jacaerys’ command seemed to go further and further into danger. Even going so far as to recruit three more dragonseeds, you distrusted all of them. They had no incentive to put their loyalties to Rhaenyra, their only incentive was noble-hood, but what would happen if the scales tipped in Aegon’s favour? Would they switch sides then?

You tried warning Jacaerys repeatedly, only for him to brush you off over and over again. Even mentioned once that you had no idea of the wars that were being played and not to meddle in his strategies. 

You kept your silence to your husband after that. 

Your anger would come in tenfolds when Ulf the White and Hugh Hammer would betray Rhaenyra in favour of Daeron at the sacking of Tumbleton. It would be this unbridled anger that would cause the rift of your marriage to tear apart at its seams. 

Jacaerys seldom slept in your shared bedchambers, choosing instead to rest in his own, figuring any time he would come there, arguments would follow. 

Later into the war when Jacaerys suggested his mother march into King’s Landing while he stakes his post in Dragonstone, you, once more, protested. There was a giant risk in what they were doing. The people of King’s Landing have long been disillusioned by the throne ever since the war started, who to say they would open their arms to her this time? 

Not to mention the bloodshed that follows her, they would become wary. What would happen then?

And as always, your protests were pushed away. At first, Jacaerys wanted to take it into account, but after Daemon agreed to the decision and his own decision to battle Aemond, you realised you had no room to speak in the council of men. 

Disaster strikes once more when Sunfyre would lead to the death of Rhaenyra and Aegon, Rhaenyra’s son, had been taken as a hostage. You had tried to see the silver lining of it all, knowing Jacaerys was falling deeper and deeper into his grief, you wanted to see the hope at the end of it. 

“Husband,” Jacaerys didn’t respond. 

He sat with his hands cradling his head and mess of hair, covering himself from you.

You had fought tooth and nail against his guards to let you into his office, one which he had instructed them to do anything it took to prevent you from entering. You can see why. He was in a state of disarray. 

Papers were strewn about, so much so that you worried about the lack of fire safety in the room, considering the candles were still lit. There was spilt wine on the ground, some long dried into the cracks of the wooden flooring. The place was a mess and in the middle of it all cowered Jacaerys. 

“Jacaerys.” You called with a stronger tone this time, making your way to the man. 

Jacaerys finally lifts his head to see you. His hair was matted and his eyes were red from crying. He looked up at you with so much desperation that you could not stop your legs from rushing towards him and embracing him.

You fall to your knees as your arms cradle his body which now folds itself into his knees once more. 

“Oh, my dear.” You whisper when he begins to weep. 

His body shook with every rough exhalation. You held him tight against yourself, caressing his hair and back as no more words were exchanged between the two of you that night. 

The next morning, you had hoped that small intimate moment you shared in his grief would bridge back your relationship. 

How wrong you were. 

Jacaerys barges into your shared bedchambers for the first time in many moons and immediately strides towards your desk. Scattering papers around trying to look for something. 

“Jacaerys,” you quickly placed down your book as you were reading before he entered, “What are you doing?” 

When he did not answer and instead became more erratic in his actions, displacing mountains of paperwork that you had tirelessly organised and went through, you quickly stood up. 

“Jacaerys! Enough! What are you looking for?!” You rushed towards him and pulled him away from your desk, clearly in a state of disarray now. 

Jacaerys lets himself be pushed by you away from the table but his eyes still refuse to meet yours. Choosing instead to rake over the scattered papers for the Seven knows what. 

“What are you looking for?! I can assure you I can find it for you without you needing to disorganise my day’s work!” 

Finally, he speaks, “I’m looking for records detailing King’s Landing.” Your eyes widened. 

You did not have much paperwork containing the capital, what you do have though are trade routes, smallfolk routes, tax details, and generally things unneeded for a man leading a war. Though something someone would need if they planned on taking over King’s Landing. You had given a report filled with it just weeks before Rhaenyra’s attempt at sieging the capital. 

“No,” you whispered. 

“You said you could find the papers, where is it.” 

“Jacaerys, don’t be idiotic.” 

“I don’t need your input right now, I just need those records.” 

“Jacaerys, by the sevens, look at your wife!” You held both his shoulders and forced him to look at you. “What are you doing?” 

“I will not make the same mistakes as my mother once did, I plan on conducting this plan through diplomacy. Aegon is dying, my brother is held hostage, and both Aemond and Vhagar are dead. Not to mention Stark’s men marching into King’s Landing as we speak. I plan on joining Cregan and taking the throne.” 

He explains, his eyes weary and his body tense. This was the longest conversation the two of you have held for quite some time and you wished it was for a different topic. Though every inch of your heart begged your mouth not to speak what you were thinking, your logical mind took over, as it always does. 

“Are you mad?!” In three words, you see Jacaerys’ facial expression morph. His brows furrow and his eyes widen before quickly steeling and looking away from you once again. 

“You know what they call her? Do you know what the smallfolk call your mother, the Black Queen, Rhaenyra Targaryen? They call her Maegor with tits. She reigned over a short moment before Sunfyre killed her and yet they still like her to Maegor the Cruel. How do you think they will respond to you with Stark’s men marching into the city?!” 

“Do you not trust me?” His voice lowers as he begs you to understand where he comes from. 

But you are an intelligent woman, a far too intelligent woman. It was one of the biggest reasons Jacaerys had fallen for you all those years past. But being an intelligent woman meant having your mind control your words and not your heart. 

“Trust you!?” You exclaimed, exasperated and untrusting of him, “Jacaerys, every decision you have made I have advised you to do something else or alter those plans of yours. Yet all you ever say is to trust you and when I do what I say could happen does happen!” 

And that was the moment Jacaerys breaks. 

“Advise?! All you have done was criticise me! What do you wish for me to say?! That I was abysmally wrong? That you were right?! That I should let you be the one to make all the decisions now?!”

“That’s not what I’m-”

“Every time I look at you I can’t help but feel your judgement rain on me. As if with your eyes you are telling me I told you so, over and over again. I can’t stand it!” 

“Jacaerys, I don’t-”

“Enough! Be quiet! Just- please- be silent for once.” 

He turns around, his back facing you as your hands drop to your sides. 

“Perhaps,” he starts, “Had I married someone who would actually advise me and not criticise me I would’ve listened to her. If I had known our union would’ve caused me this much strain I would’ve thought twice.” 

You felt the entire weight of the Seven Kingdoms break your heart at that moment. You would be dumb to think that the war hadn’t put a tremendous strain on your relationship. But to have him so brazenly admit regretting marrying you was something you never thought would happen. 

Logically, you understood that perhaps Jacaerys was just high-strung, he was stressed, and under a disastrous amount of pressure and grief. And that he did not mean his words. But that did little to bandage your already weary heart from breaking even further. 

The countless arguments, and the intense workload with no one to vent to, weighed on you. The only reason you had restrained yourself from woe was the understanding that Jacaerys had it worse. You dealt with numbers and produce. He dealt with lives and blood. You were not the same. 

Perhaps it was time for you to understand that. Wholly and fully. 

“It is still in the queen’s small council chamber.” You steadied your voice, holding any cracks in your tone from the heartbreak you were experiencing. 

Jacaerys didn’t acknowledge it, simply walking out of the room. 

That night and all nights after, you would spend your nights alone, crying. 

After that day, you would spend the rest of your time with Jacaerys or any of his councilmen with your head hung low. Forcing your contentment on the mundanity of your work of numbers and produce. Unaware of the few times Jacaerys has tried to reach for you before his siege. 

~

The siege was a success, they called it the Hour of the Wolf. Cregan Stark and Jacaerys Velaryon were able to take over the capital and after many more days of stabilisation over his rule more events followed. The sudden reappearance of Viserys and Aegon’s, son of Alicent’s, sudden poisoning by Corlys, to name a few. 

After all was said and done, Jacaerys called for the remaining royals, mainly Rhaena and yourself, in Dragonstone to return to King’s Landing for a celebration. 

Jacaerys would proclaim himself with a speech amongst the small folk, hoping to rebuild his image and reputation, afterwards food would be prepared for them. Nobles would also be in attendance but during the feast they and the royal family would be ushered to a much more private celebration where hopes of rebuilding relationships and easing tensions would rise high. 

You felt antsy over the entire ordeal. Not that you thought the idea was bad. You believed directly speaking towards the small folk would show his down-to-earth nature and create a friendlier personality for the normal people to aspire once more. Showing that the crown was something to be adored again instead of ridiculed and hated. 

What you were worried about was the scale of it all, as it stood many of the men that would be guarding the nobles and Jacaerys were Stark’s men. Which meant utter safety and loyalty as they listened to no one other than Cregan. But that did not mean all of it were Stark men. You weren’t privy to the details of it all but you knew some guards were just that, King’s Guards. Ones you did not properly trust. 

To play on the caring and courageous king, Jacaerys needed to be branded as a good husband as well. To do this, he mustn't start any rumours amongst the staff of the keep that you and he had yet to speak to each other properly ever since the argument you had in your bedchambers. 

So, you must share a space before leaving for the festivities. Thankfully, you were not expected to be in his vicinity while your handmaidens dressed and dolled you. As queen consort, you must also make a new image of yourself. Thankfully, your image hadn’t been sullied amongst your people, considering you were well-loved in Dragonstone. But that did not mean the smallfolk did not harbour any sense of irk for you. 

You must be dressed beautifully and courtly. 

As you stared into the mirror in your room, you took a deep breath. You looked beautiful. 

You did not have much reason to dress properly during the war. After all, your duties were done within the confines of your table. But now you looked ecstatically mesmerising. You only hope Jacaerys thinks the same way. 

“My lady, the king is waiting for you.” Your handmaiden muses with a smile on her face.

You could only respond with a wry smile and a nod as she begins leading you to Jacaerys’ bedchambers. To her, she had dressed you so beautifully for your husband, she must be giddy with pride and happiness. If only she knew the truth, you wondered if she would be disappointed. 

The pit in your stomach only grew as you neared the room, his words echoed in your head in a way that you wished it would stop. It festered and nurtured the growing insecurities within yourself. But before you could think more of it you had arrived. 

The guards open the doors and you make your way into where Jacaerys is, hearing the small giggle of your handmaiden before the door closes behind you. 

His back was facing you and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of the past. You focused on your breathing again. Not seeing the way Jacaerys fiddles with the sleeves of his shirt, blazed with nerves on how to speak to you again after so long. He wishes to apologise but doesn’t know where to start. Especially considering your sudden retreat. To which he does not blame you. 

Jacaerys slowly turns, opening his mouth to say something. But you unknowingly cut him off without looking at him. 

“My King, we should get going, it would do wonders if we could greet the nobles before the speech.” You explained matter-of-factly. 

Formal, guarded, stiff, and cold. Jacaerys bites the inside of his cheeks at hearing you address him with his title and not a term of endearment as he was so used to hearing. He understands he deserves it. 

No matter, what he thinks, the war is done and though more work will now follow him. The burden of blood will no longer follow him. He has a lifetime to beg for your forgiveness. 

So, he clears his throat. 

“Of course.” He offers his arm, half expecting you to refuse it. 

Surprisingly, you took it, placing your stiff palm on the inside of his elbow. You felt awkward touching him in such an intimate manner and he could tell. 

His eyes looked towards you beside him as you looked forward to the doors, waiting for him to start walking. He was transfixed by the sadness in your eyes, the sunken way they sat on your face, had you been having trouble sleeping? 

His thoughts were quickly cut off by your sudden laughter. 

“Oh, husband! Enough, we must leave now, we may continue this later tonight!” You exclaim loudly with a torrent of giggles. 

Jacaerys brows furrowed in confusion but then he realises when you start walking and the door opened. You were playing your role. The role he asked you to play. The quiet queen. 

Your giggles didn’t stop until the two of you were walking towards the carriage which would take you to where the event was held. In a moment, Jacaerys sees the way your face drops from the faux laughs and smiles. Your expression was sullen and cold once more when you reached the carriage. 

Jacaerys wanted to say something but wondered if now wasn’t the right time. So he stayed quiet until the two of you reached your destination. 

In which your faux smile returned as you leaned against him in the many eyes of small folk and nobles. 

The speech was a success, the people cheered for him as you stiffly clapped your hands at your husband’s brilliant words. Baela was the only one to notice your discomfort. Right before the nobles would be ushered towards the other location, she pulls you aside. 

“Are you alright?” she holds your hands. 

“Of course, just, worried.” you confessed. 

“About?” 

“This is too open, I- I’m worried something may happen.” 

Jacaerys, intending to look for his wife, accidentally overhears the private conversation. His jaw tightened at your words. A part of him wonders if despite the success of the siege, you still think of his failures as stronger than his successes. 

He wanted to prove you wrong. 

During the feast, you played your role perfectly, attached to the hip with your ‘dearest’ husband. You laugh as he tells stories and jokes, all the while your hand stiffens and freezes any time you see a guard or a noble acting out of the ordinary. To which Jacaerys always senses, as you are holding to him after all. 

This pushed him to be bolder in trying to prove you wrong. To show you that there were no dangers to his plan and that this event was spotless. Perhaps then he could apologise to you. 

It was on a specific instance that he felt you tense up the most. The two of you had begun a conversation with Lord Baratheon and his wife when the four of you started walking away from the crowds, considering how loud people were getting as they emptied their cups more and more. 

Though the conversation was getting dull, Jacaerys had continued humouring Lord Baratheon’s insistence on continuing to talk. As he wanted to show you that there was nothing wrong. He should’ve seen how the Baratheon was slowly walking the four of them to a secluded area. He saw the way your eyes wandered everywhere, not truly listening to what Lady Baratheon was saying. 

Jacaerys felt your hand squeeze his arm in warning, a simple sign to leave. One he did not listen. 

Until-

“Jacaerys!” 

It all happened in the blink of an eye, from behind a pillar a masked and cloaked man jumped from the darkness. Equipped with a poison-laden dagger, they proclaimed their loyalty to Aegon, Alicent’s son, as the one true king and went to drive the blade into Jacaerys. If not for you pushing him aside, he would’ve died. 

But in return, the blade stabbed deep into the middle of your chest, just below your ribs. The Lady Baratheon screamed, as your body collapsed to the ground, only for Lord Baratheon to take her hand and run. The scream brought the attention of the guards, who were quick to arrive at the scene and cut off their paths. 

Jacaerys falls to the ground to catch your body. 

He cradles your body against his own. Feeling the blood seeping through his fingertips. 

“No- no- no!” he mutters over and over again as he desperately tries to hold the wound in his hands. 

A pathetic attempt of trying to stop the blood from pouring out like a river of grief and pain. 

Your chest rose and fell as your breathing laboured. 

“Guards!” He yells out, “Call a maester, the queen has been stabbed!” He sees many of them scramble to follow his orders and yet he couldn’t focus on anything except the deafening ringing in his ears at his panic. 

His eyes began tearing up as you tried to squint your eyes at him to focus. 

“Jacaerys,” you mutter weakly placing your hand on top of his own which was still desperately pushing against your wound. 

The blood seeped through his fingers like water. There was no end. 

“Even in the brink of death you refuse to be quiet, please, conserve your might.” 

You flinch at his words, thinking back to the last time he mentioned being quiet. Not wanting to see the face of a man who has hurt you so in your death, you slowly turned your head towards the garden in front of you. 

Jacaerys, through his own watering eyes, realises his mistake. 

“No, no, that’s not what I mean. My love, you were always much better with words than I am. I speak before I think and I hurt you over and over again.” his tears began falling, “I’m sorry. Gods knows I’ve been wanting to say that to you the second our argument ended. But I didn’t know how I didn’t know how I could confess how much I loathed myself for saying those things in our room and how I regretted it without another argument. I didn’t mean any of it, my love, please.” 

At his confession, you slowly turned your head towards him again, and your vision began to blur. 

“I love you, please, please, don’t leave me.” He begged. 

You could faintly hear clattering and rushing, armour clanging into one another as you assumed guards were running with a maester. 

“I love you, please.” Sobs wracked through Jacaerys’ body, “I’m sorry.” And your heart broke once more seeing him so pained. 

For the first time in a long time, you wished your worries were wrong, that what Jacaerys had said in the past was true. That you were being far too untrusting over him. As much as you didn’t want to die, there was one thing you didn’t want to happen more. You didn’t want Jacaerys to lose another person he deeply cared for. 

“I’m sorry.” he whispers over and over again into your hair as he leans to press kisses all over the crown of your head. 

With what little energy you had left, you whispered, “It’s okay. I forgive you. I love you.” You wish you could lift your hand and cradle his face as you used to do. He used to love it when you did that. But you found it impossible to move. 

Soon enough, you found it impossible to focus on his voice, then his face, then the ground you were lying on, then the world around you. 

Not a second later, Jacaerys sees the light leave your eyes and what little family he has left from his youth is now taken from him as he is left to weep and sob on the cold ground. Completely unaware of the nobles in the area watching the heartbreaking scene after rushing there after hearing a ruckus. 

~

His plan was a success, after all, Jacaerys plan worked. The speech and the feast which followed repaired his image unlike anything else could. Though the feast did most of the work. 

Rumours and stories spread around like wildfire over the heartbreaking scene of the newly crowned king holding his dead wife on the ground. Refusing to let her go, forcing the guards to physically pull him away from the body. 

Any semblance of doubt within the smallfolk that the king was a heartless monster who warred and sieged the capital was gone in a week. In its place was sympathy as they saw themselves who had lost family or friends to the war, in the grieving king who had lost his beloved wife. 

Though Jacaerys wished, for the first time, that he was wrong. That the plan didn’t work. That it wasn’t considered one of his successes as a councilmember would later say. He wished he was wrong and the feast was an abysmal failure. If only that meant you would sleep in your shared bed one more time. 

Just as you had after the argument, Jacaerys would spend the rest of his life as king, alone in his bed, crying. 

~

“Jeez, you okay?” Jace suddenly felt a hand wipe away at his cheeks. 

His eyes immediately jolt open, wide and confused. 

“Woah, calm down, you were crying in your sleep so I thought you were having a bad dream or something.” 

His brows furrowed in confusion, a bad dream? He couldn’t remember. 

“Wanna talk about it?” 

Finally, his mind snapped into his reality. Jace blinked a few more times before staring at you, your head propped on the palm of your hand as you balanced on your elbow looking down at him. 

“Nah.” He shook his head, before grasping your body into his arms and pulling you back down into his embrace. 

“Shit!” You exclaimed, not expecting the sudden movement. 

All before you giggled again and wrapped his body against yours, one of your hands absentmindedly reaching to play with his curls. 

“Did I tell you how much I like it when you grow out your hair?” You absentmindedly asked. 

Jace hummed a yup into the crook of your neck causing you to laugh. 

He almost pouted when you pulled away to look at him, one of your hands cradling his cheek as he leaned into your touch. 

“So what was it? A bad dream or something?” 

Jace shrugged, he couldn’t really remember. A sense of deja vu hit him. 

“Or something.” he shrugged before cuddling deeper into you and relinquishing himself to sleep. 

“Fucking hell, I bet in every lifetime you’re a handful to me.” 

He chuckled, “Maybe. But that means in every lifetime you’re stuck with me.” 

A part of you wanted to tease him and say ew, but you didn’t. Your heart willed your words to say something else, “I hope so,” you whisper placing a kiss on his forehead, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he responds before the two of you fall back asleep in your shared bedroom. 

Did u guys like the ending ;)))) I really like the idea of a rebirth but this time both parties are better versions of themselves. Anyw let's get to the lyric breakdown

I want to write something which references this song but backwards. The song starts with the lines, “Quietly, it slips through your fingers, love // Falling from you drop by drop // What I had left here I just held it tight // So someone with your eyes // Might come in time / To hold me like water // Or, Christ hold me like a knife.” This is the beginning of the song that references Hozier wanting not to lose something but by holding it tighter, like water, it slips further away. It's too late like a wound you only clasp when you realise you’re losing too much blood. In the second verse, “You and I burned out our steam // Chasing someone else’s dream // How can something be so much heavier // But so much less than what it seems // Darling, we sacrificed // We gave our time to something undefined // This phantom life sharpens like an image // But it sharpens like a knife.” This second verse I want to be explored at the beginning of my writing. 

Jacaerys and the Reader love each other dearly but because of the war, they are pushed too far away from each other. The Reader is logical and smart like Jacaerys, but because of this fact, they don’t realise that Jacaerys needs emotional support more than military support. Jacaerys far too stressed out by the war doesn’t realise that the Reader is just trying to help him. It all comes to hell the more people die because Jacaerys is given more and more responsibility and the Reader only wants to help by carrying the burden with him, something they don’t realise that Jace doesn’t need. It’s a whole lotta miscommunication mess with two semi-selfish people who just want to help. 

Like the first part of the song, Jacaerys tries to hold the wound but it doesn’t work, the more he puts pressure the more blood seeps through. By the end of this section, he looks back to the throne, something he now doesn’t know if he wants or something he believes he wants as the person he loves isn’t with him anymore. Because this song references metamorphosis at the beginning of the album from De Selby part 1, I don’t want to just end it here. This is the end of the canon world of Jacaerys Velaryon but not the end of the story. Suddenly a uni-aged Jacaerys Velaryon wakes up and finds he’s in the arms of the Reader. He remembers he was dreaming something (his past life) but he doesn’t actually remember what it was. But in this life, there are hints of both him and the Reader being better versions of themselves. The Reader offers emotional support and Jacaerys listens to them.