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i.
It is a truth known to him, and solely to him, that where Helaena goes, he follows.
Or at least it was a truth known solely to him. When they return to the safety of Dragonstone, Jace scarcely notices his family. The stares. The way Luke fidgets beside him. He lingers by the fireplace as the servants prepare to serve supper, his shoulders curled, his throat dry. In the flames, he can almost see her eyes. Blue as ever. And then—
The pain that blooms in his chest makes his breath hitch. He vibrates with it, shaking with his rage and bitterness and grief. The longer he’s away, the more it burns. He’d heard of the birth. Of course he had. He dreams of her every night, anyway. But now he dreamt of a little boy, too. He hadn’t known the truth for certain. But he’d pictured a little boy with silver-blonde hair and grey eyes, or brown hair with violet eyes.
But now he knows. He knows.
His nails dig so hard into his skin that blood trickles down his wrist. He wipes his doublet, tries to breathe, but with every passing thought he thinks of her and the boy, their boy, their son, and he—
He’s cut off from his musings by the sound of his stepfather’s loud cackle.
“Daemon,” his mother reprimands, her violet eyes flickering between her husband and him.
But Daemon keeps laughing.
Luke shoots him an apprehensive look.
“What’s so funny?” Jace questions, blood rushing to his ears.
“Nothing,” Daemon chortles. “It’s just – I never thought you had it in you.”
“Daemon,” his mom chides. Jace nods; once, twice, and then rears back and smashes his fist against his uncle’s nose. Blood spirts from the wound as the bone crunches with a satisfying snap.
“Jace!” his mother exclaims. “Enough—”
“Say it again!” Jace yells, leaping for Daemon just as Luke yanks him back by the waist. His brother is younger and smaller than him, but he’s steadier, calmer, while Jace feels like his heart is exposed, ready for anyone to crush and smear on the walls. “Say it again!”
“Enough, Jace,” Luke mutters, pulling him back. “Enough.”
His stepfather merely wipes his nose with his cloak. He doesn’t even seem mad. If anything, all the humour on his face has vanished.
“Never,” Jace starts, chest heaving, “speak of it again, do you understand?”
His mother’s lips part. “Jace…”
“Even you,” he says, wiping at his wet cheeks. “Even you.”
He shoves Luke off and stalks out the room, ignoring his mother calling out his name.
He never meant for it to happen.
Never.
Jace had forced himself to come to terms with the fact that his mother’s proposal to wed him and Helaena was never to be. He’d admired her from afar since when they were children. She was like something out of a dream to him, kind even in her strangeness. Genuine when others lied.
She’d been kind to him, as children. Kind and lovely. The days he managed to make her smile, to make the clouds in her eyes fade, are moments he cherishes even now.
When her betrothal to Aegon had been announced, his heart fractured. The hope buried deep down had been snuffed out like a candle. She’d been sad then. Her lovely face carved in sorrow. He’d caught her weeping when one of her spiders died after the betrothal, and she’d let him tuck her head against his neck as she sobbed.
“You are kind,” she’d whispered. “You have kind eyes, Jacaerys. You always have.”
He’d been struck then by the realisation she’d been watching him as much as he had her, and it hurt even more than anything else. The knowledge that this wasn’t something he felt. That it was shared.
He hadn’t meant to linger in the hall after the bedding ceremony. But the look on her face—
Aegon had been deep in his cups, slobbering over a serving maid, ignorant of his wife. It had angered him so greatly. Jace could treat her better. He could. He can. The injustice of it all made him want to scream. He hadn’t let himself linger long. He’d disappeared down to the garden, hoping to get some air, but somehow she’d been there. She’d been there. Like a ghost, like a siren, like something sweet and soft and lovely.
It had been even sweeter, making love to her. Kissing her. Like the soft flow of water beneath the earth. Like his world made sense for the first time in his life, even if it broke his heart.
But duty had won out over love. He could not steal her, could not fly away with her. He loved his mother, his brothers, his family. He would not leave them open to the wolves.
But he had.
With every breath his son takes, Jace does.
He can’t find it within himself to regret it.
Luke finds him with Vermax on a close island, the wind whipping at his ears. The sky is grey as the waves lap against the shore. He curls and uncurls his hands in the white sand as he leans his back against Vermax, his dragon snoring contentedly.
“Mother thought you flew back,” Luke says, approaching him gingerly.
“I’m not that stupid, Luke.”
“Debatable.”
Jace throws some sand on his brother’s chest, but any humour dies quickly. He keeps thinking of the brief moment he got to hold him. Jaehaerys. His son. His little toddler legs. His grey eyes. How happy he’d been. The sound of his gurgles as he’d gazed up at him, as if he’d somehow known the truth.
“You never said,” Luke begins quietly.
Jace shrugs helplessly. “What could I say?” he mutters, frowning deeply at the dark water. Arrax makes a fire for them to protect against the cold.
“Jace—”
“I don’t want your pity.”
“I’m your brother,” Luke says. “Let me help you.”
Luke is like another part of him, really. His closest friend, his constant companion. But Jace—
He’s never spoken of this to anyone. To say it, to speak of it, is a betrayal like no other. Like he’s turning his insides out. Even to Luke, whom he loves.
“There is nothing to help,” he whispers, shutting his eyes tightly.
“Jace—”
“It is unspeakable,” he whispers, “so let us not speak of it.”
Luke is quiet for a long moment. He does not say anything. The stain of bastardry has followed them all their lives, and now Jace has passed that to another. And yet he loves his son. Loves her.
When tears slip down his cheeks, Luke is kind enough not to comment.
His brother merely sits with him until sunrise.
(the pain does not lessen)
Six moons after he was last in King’s Landing, his mother receives a raven. She’s well into another pregnancy, waddles more than walks, and she sends him to represent her in her stead. He ignores the knowing look in her eyes. His mother is many things. A greater mother than most, truth be told.
And in this moment, when she tells him to go to King’s Landing in her stead, he’s never loved her more.
When he arrives, there is no fanfare or official greeting. The Red Keep is quieter nowadays, but his grandsire is in good enough health to greet him on the throne even as his flesh begins to rot. But who Jace craves to see is not there. A phantom in the Great Hall as he kneels to the King.
It must be the Queen’s or the Hand’s doing, but guards follow him wherever he goes, and it takes until the third day for him to shake them off. He is a dragon, after all, and dragons cannot be contained.
He finds her –
Finds them –
In the gardens. Because of course he does. They are surrounded by her ladies, tucked away in a private spot, no doubt to keep from prying eyes. Jace’s heart stutters to a stop regardless, watching as little Jaehaerys stumbles around on his little toddler legs, calling out his mother.
Jace is keen to linger in the shadows. He does not want to cast darkness and slight on this day, on this moment. He can’t help but wonder how his father – his real, true, father coped. Seeing them everyday. Knowing he would watch them grow and never be able to claim them.
But Jaehaerys spots him in the shadows, and he runs over to him.
“Hello,” his son smiles, brown curls falling low on his forehead. His grin is infectious, and Jace cannot help but smile back.
“Hello,” Jace greets, ignoring the feeling of all eyes on them. He crouches down so they’re eye to eye.
“Who are you?”
It takes great effort to keep the smile on his face. “I’m your cousin. My name is Jacaerys.”
He is only a stranger to him, but Jaehaerys reaches out and tugs at his hair nonetheless, making Jace laugh.
“Jay,” a familiar voice scolds from behind them.
Jace looks to find Helaena hovering behind them, her mouth pursed even as her eyes are warm. Relieved.
“I thought you ill, Aunt,” he murmurs, remaining in his crouched position. “I am glad to see you.”
She fiddles with her rings. “And I you, nephew.”
Jaehaerys giggles loudly as he sways and trips over a root. Jace catches him in his arms without thinking, holding Jaehaerys close as he cries, startled by the root. His son is a fine weight. Strong. Healthy.
“Shh,” Jace shushes, just like his mother used to when he was babe. He hums a little, presses his lips right by Jaehaerys’ ear so he can feel the vibrations. “Shh.”
Jaehaerys settles in his arms, buries his face in his neck, and Jace lets himself clench his eyes shut. Inhales and exhales sharply. “Good lad,” Jace grunts, stepping over to Helaena. She reaches out and rests her palm on their son’s back.
Soon, Jaehaerys is sleeping in his arms and Jace—
Jace tries his best not to weep.
Helaena meets his gaze, and there are tears in her eyes too.
When they turn, Jaehaerys still in his arms, they find the Queen staring at them, aghast.
“Helaena,” he starts, keeping his gaze low as he transfers the sleeping boy back into her arms. “I—”
“I know,” she assures him, holding their son in her arms. There’s a promise in her eyes. “I know.”
He nods feebly, clearing his throat. It is the Queen who comes to guide them away, and Jace is uncertain if he should view it as a kindness, for he knows he would not be able to leave on his own. To walk away from them both.
So he watches the Queen guide them back inside the palace. Watches as Helaena looks over her shoulder to look at him, their son napping in her arms. The Queen stares at him too, and Jace knows not what to make of it.
She finds him as he overlooks the sea from the gardens.
The Queen, that is.
“If you love her,” she says, joining him. “You must leave.”
“Your grace—”
“Don’t play me for a fool,” Alicent Hightower hisses. “If I find out you preyed on her, I will—”
“I would never,” Jace protests. “Never.”
For once, the Queen falters in his presence.
“I know,” she sighs, defeat permeating from every pore in her body. “Despite her faults, your mother has a good heart.”
When she meets his gaze, he’s surprised by the tears in her eyes.
“You must go,” she says. “For her sake, for your—” she pauses. “You must. You know it to be true.”
“I don’t know anything,” Jace mutters.
“I know you’ve been surrounded by whispers your whole life,” the Queen says. “Whispers haunting you, shadowing you – would you want the same for him?”
Jace does not reply.
“Do you?” the Queen shoots him one last glare before she turns away, leaving him alone.
When Jace returns to Dragonstone, he is there for a fortnight before his mother wakes him before dawn.
“A raven,” she says. “From King’s Landing.”
When Jace accepts the envelope, his name is written on it. He tears open the envelope.
Come home, it reads. Forever yours.