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The plan went to shit immediately.
Jace had figured that they’d make it back to the castle at the very least. He knew that the minute his mother or Daemon saw their cut lips and bandaged hands, they’d know what they did and any chance of pretending would be gone. But he hadn’t expected to be interrupted during the ceremony. No not during. After . That’s what Jace thought as he was forcefully pulled away from Baela. It can’t be undone. He’s too late.
It can’t be undone, he thought as Baela started shouting.
It can’t be undone, he thought as Daemon grabbed his wrist so hard he could hear his bones creak under the force of it- which Jace just knew would bruise- and snarled, “We’re going to see your mother.”
It was why they had chosen a Valyrian marriage. A sept would have been easier to do quietly, they could have found plain clothes and septon in the village that would marry them without much fuss.
They had spent months going back and forth on what to do. A marriage could be annulled , Jace had pointed out. A consummated one could not , Baela had said in that suggestive way of hers. That had been Baela’s original plan. She had wanted Jace to… dishonor her , to force their parents' hand. He had refused vehemently. For many reasons. He would not risk a bastard nor would he risk Baela’s honor- plus he thought Daemon would be more likely to relieve him of his head than allow him to marry Baela in that situation.
He had insisted they marry first at least. Which presented the problem of how. They had considered going to the King directly and pleading for the match, but there was no guarantee they would even get to the King and not just have to talk to the Hand. They had gone over a million situations but in the end, this seemed the most certain. If they could just get to the altar and say the words, mix their blood, it didn’t matter what happened next. They were bound together in this life and the next.
Baela had escaped her father’s death grip and had not stopped shouting despite being firmly ignored. Jace for his part was just trying to stay on his feet, which was a challenge between the already rocky ground of Dragonstone and the pace at which Daemon was dragging him. Already he had tripped and cut his shin on a sharp rock. It throbbed painfully as warm blood dripped down his leg.
“You could at least let him walk, he’s not a criminal!” Baela yelled. He was grateful for her defense, even if it didn’t do anything. “We were only copying your example!”
Daemon squeezed Jace’s wrist tighter at those words but still didn’t say anything.
She opened her mouth to continue arguing but Jace shook his head, trying to silently tell her to give up, it was of no use.
She continued anyway. “Father-”
“-Baela, please,” he pleaded.
“Be quiet, boy,” Daemon snapped.
“He is my husband, he may talk to me however much he wants.”
Daemon snorted. “A regrettable circumstance. It will have to be remedied.”
They enter the clearing where they had landed Vermax and Moondancer, and clearly where Daemon had landed Caraxes. Caraxes was alert and still while Vermax was snarling and lashing his tail back and forth and Moondancer appeared moments away from launching herself at Caraxes. When they entered his line of sight, Vermax turned all of his attention to Daemon and Jace didn’t need a glare from Daemon to know what to do.
“ Lykirī , Vermax,” He called. Vermax hissed and did not calm down at all. “ Lykirī !” he tried again. This time, he slowly sat down but his amber eyes never left Jace. As Daemon dragged him towards Caraxes Jace had the thought that perhaps he had lied earlier when he said they were going to see his mother. Perhaps he was just going to feed Jace to Caraxes here and now, get it over with.
At least a beheading would be quick. Death by dragon could be long and drawn out, he knew. Daemon had once described it to him in visceral detail. And long and drawn out it would be, for the crime of marrying his daughter without permission.
As terrifying as the thought is, it is an honorable death for a Targaryen. Usually they’re dead before they’re burned but he’s not in a place to be picky. You are a Targaryen. That is all that matters, his mother once told him. He knew now that the words were simply the empty comfort of a mother, but still he clung to them. He was a Targaryen. He will be burned. The only difference is when.
Daemon was apparently not a liar because Caraxes did not open his mouth, no fire built in his throat. Instead he lowered himself enough that Daemon could pull Jace up into the saddle and then climbed on behind him. Then he took off, Vermax following close behind. Jace saw Baela get on Moondancer and follow after them as well.
As used as Jace is to flying, being on Caraxes was newly terrifying. He wasn’t attached to the saddle by anything other than Daemon’s arm around his waist and Caraxes is much bigger than Vermax. He doesn’t think Daemon probably would push him off though. It could be claimed to be an accident but he doesn’t think his mother would believe that. He hoped she knew that he knows better than to do anything dramatic when on someone else’s dragon.
They landed in the courtyard of Dragonstone, and once Daemon pulled Jace from atop Caraxes- he didn’t dare get down by himself- Jace remained free of Daemon’s harsh grip. Baela landed shortly after. She came over to him, worry clear in her eyes.
“I’m alright,” he muttered quietly. She nodded but he could see her fear and nervousness even as she hid behind bravado. He itched to do something to reassure her- but even kissing her hand seemed like pushing his luck. She looked fierce, with her hair wind-blown and a bit of blood smeared on her bottom lip and he couldn’t help but think of the brief moments she had kissed him before they were interrupted. The feel of her lips against his had been better than he could have ever imagined and he couldn't help but want to kiss her again, here and now in the Dragonstone courtyard.
It would be counterproductive- and a good way to die- but oh how he wanted it. Bastards are said to be lustful by nature, which he knew to be true. There was no other explanation for how much he wanted her, the things he thought of, the things he dreamed of-
Baela took his hand, her fingers interlocking with his. It was the hand she had cut in the ceremony and it was slick with blood as the cut had yet to be bandaged. It reminded him of the vows he had spent weeks practicing to be sure he said them right. They were one now, bound before the gods. No matter what happened next, that would always be true.
“Come along,” Daemon said and began leading them to his mother’s solar.
HIs mother was holding Viserys in her arms, rocking him gently, when they entered. He’s not sure what she saw- if she noticed his and Baela’s cut lips and hands or if she just saw the fury on Daemon’s face but she immediately handed Viserys to the nursemaid who was lingering and bid her to leave them.
“What have you done?” she asked.
“What have we done?” Baela spat, “Only what you two did yourselves.”
His mother’s eyes widened. She looked to Daemon for confirmation. He walked over to her and stood close.
“Somehow,” he drawled, “These two have managed to get married. In the tradition of Old Valyria nonetheless,”
Jace glanced at Baela. She had a defiant grin on her face, teeth bared and unafraid. He wished he felt like that, wished he could muster up even a fraction of her courage, but he couldn’t stand to look his mother in the eye without being overtaken by shame.
“Married?” his mother said, bewildered, “Why?”
“Because I love her!” he blurted. Everyone in the room looked at him and he swallowed the lump in his throat. “And she loves me.” for reasons he does not understand and never will, but he can’t deny that it’s true. “And you would never have wed us even though it is the most appropriate match for both of us. So we did it ourselves.”
His mother frowned. “We haven’t begun considering marriages for either of you. If you had come to us…” she trailed off, thoughtful. It was never his mother that was the problem. It was Daemon. He would never allow Jace to marry Baela, would never allow her to marry a bastard. It did not matter that he was heir to the throne, in Daemon’s eyes he was a halfbreed- barely Valyrian. He did not have the look and he barely spoke the language- his only claim was Vermax and he was sure Daemon thought him as undeserving of that as he did his daughter.
On that, Jace agreed. Baela deserved someone far better than him.
“It is foolish and rash, what you’ve done. We will have to- to- I don’t even know- and now of all times-” His mother began pacing, her hand falling to the swell of her stomach to rub at it comfortingly. Jace felt awful. He did not mean to worry her so much.
“Betroth us,” Baela said insistently, “There’s no reason not to.”
His mother appeared to be considering it, which of course meant Daemon chose to speak then. “You cannot possibly be considering giving them what they want.” he reached out and grabbed her by the wrist to stop her from pacing.
“It would be easiest,” his mother argued, “Besides, what else are we meant to do? It is not a marriage of the Faith, we cannot just have it annulled.”
“There was no bedding,” Daemon said, “No one else needs to know-”
“We will discuss this later,” his mother interrupted, her face drawn. “Both of you, go to your chambers.” She leaned against the wall, slightly hunched over, clearly in pain from the babe.
Jace took a step towards her, to help her, to comfort her, but Daemon stepped in front of him and pushed him away. “Go to your chambers,” he repeated.
He hesitated for a moment, but eventually turned away. He left the solar and Baela followed him. To his surprise Daemon followed them out too- shouldn’t he be with his mother? It was his babe that was causing her pain.
Baela stopped and turned to her father. “What are you doing?” she demanded
“You two clearly cannot be left alone together. You might run off to Essos next,” he sneered.
Baela scowled, but she didn’t say anything else, just stalked down the hall. Jace followed her lead.
Baela was leading them to his chambers first. They were as far as possible from Baela’s due to her talking to him through his door in the middle of the night to talk when they were younger. The farther distance didn’t really deter her, just made it easier for her to get caught.
They stop in front of his door, and with a purposeful glance at her father, she leans in and kisses him. It’s brief and chaste but it sears itself just as firmly into his memory as their first one.
He must have stood there blankly too long- because Daemon takes it upon himself to open the door, push him into his chambers and shut the door firmly in his face.
***
When Baela was three and ten, she had confessed to Jace that she was terrified of getting married, on one of those late nights she spent laying on a pillow outside his door. Ever since she was little she’d hated being alone at night and since she wasn’t allowed in Jace’s room to actually talk to him- for many reasons, but mostly because he wouldn’t let her in- she’d compromised by talking through the door.
At the time she had recently flowered, and she’d known what that meant. The idea of being married, of living in some random lord’s castle, far away from her sister and her family. It terrified her. But what kept her awake at night, what pushed her to tell Jace this, was the thought of dying like her mother. Of giving her life for a babe that wouldn’t even live.
And when she’d said it all, quietly whispered her deepest fears to a wooden door, there was silence. And then- shuffling, the door handle turning, hinges creaking- then Jace. It was dark and she could barely see him, but he’d opened the door. And she’d thrown herself into his arms without another thought, and he’d caught her and held her while she cried. She’d thought then that if she had to marry someone, she would pick Jace.
Now as she watched her father slam that same door in her husband’s face, she couldn’t help but be angry . She stared at the door for a moment more, keeping the image of Jace, red faced and shocked after she had kissed him, in her mind. She should be in that room with him, kissing him until he managed to do more than just stand there, until she figured out just how far down that blush went. She should be making sure he knew that there was nothing more to be ashamed of, nothing was improper, not when they were husband and wife, not when she was his and he was hers, one flesh, one heart, one soul.
Instead she was being escorted to her chambers like a child. And since her father insisted on treating her like a child, she might as well act like one. She stomped down the hall, making sure her steps echoed loudly.
“I will never understand why you hate him so much. What is truly so bad about me marrying him?” Her voice came out as hurt and upset and she hated it. It made her seem like she was pleading or begging and she wanted to do neither of those things.
Her father studied her for a second. “You are a Taragryen. The blood of old Valyria runs in your veins. You cannot be bound to just anyone,” he said.
“Who would you have me marry instead?” she argued, “One of my Hightower cousins? The one in Oldtown or maybe the one that stole my mothers dragon.” The look of pure disgust on her father’s face made a bitter laugh escape her. “A Velaryon cousin then? One with nothing to his name but silver hair. I would spend my days in some other lord’s home, babes to keep me occupied while my husband found company with whores while he’s away at sea. Is that preferable?”
“No,” Her father scowled, “I would have you marry your brother.”
It took her a moment to realize what he meant. “Aegon?! You want me to marry Aegon?” Aegon who must have his food cut up for him, Aegon who carries his stuffed dragon toy around with him everywhere, who cries if left with the nursemaids for too long. Aegon who Baela sits in the nursery with when she can because Jace asks her to since he has long been banned from the nursery and the general presence of their younger brothers and it kills him to have a brother he is not allowed to know. And she knows it is a Targaryen tradition to marry brother to sister but never before did it seem so weird. She would rather marry the Velaryon cousin than Aegon.
“It’s a much better match than the bastard,” her father said derisively.
“Don’t call him that,” she snapped. She didn’t think she could stand much more of this conversation. Her father had always been infuriating but this was a new level.
“I’ll call him what he is,” he retorted, “A mistake his mother never should have kept. He should’ve been done away with quietly when he was born.”
Baela had heard enough. “I will never forgive you,” she said furiously. “You can go back with Rhaenyra now, decide whatever you like, but I will never forgive you.”
Her father did not appear bothered by her declaration, but didn’t follow her when she stormed off.
***
Jace stood in front of the door for a while. Now that he was safely in the quiet of the room, nothing felt real. He was married to Baela. He had kissed Baela. He hadn’t been beheaded on sight by Daemon, and although who knew what he and his mother would decide, he knew that their plan had worked like they meant it to.
At some point he moved to sit at the table. The cut on his hand had stopped bleeding at some point and it felt wrong. He picked at it until blood began to well up again, it stung, but it felt good, the reminder of the wedding, of Baela. It was everything he had ever wanted, and everything he thought he’d never have.
He only hoped she wasn’t disappointed. He knew that she had wanted to bed him, had made it clear in fact that that is what she intended to do after the wedding. He had been unsure about it. If they are betrothed, he intends for it to be the most proper betrothal possible. He would act so that there couldn't even be whispers of anything untoward. But he also feared that he would not be able to wait, if he knew what it was like, to know Baela as a husband knows his wife. He wanted her too much, but no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t change his nature.
He wasn’t sure what he’d do if they weren’t betrothed. Surely he would have to marry someone else and he didn’t think he could. No matter what Daemon said he couldn’t just pretend this didn’t happen. And pretending would not change that any other marriage would be invalid, any children would be bastards. He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t bring a child into this world knowing what awaited them. He’d rather find the tallest cliff and fall into the sea, die like a Velaryon- or maybe he’d go to Vermax, stand in front of him and call dracarys , die as such that no one could claim he wasn’t a Targaryen.
If he did that though, he’d leave Luke and Joffrey behind. He thought of the training yard, of the way when they’d first moved here, he’d been stupid and thought that maybe since Ser Criston wasn’t here he could train without being covered in bruises by the end of it. He’d realized differently quickly. Every single knight in the castle worked for Daemon, every single knight followed his orders. He didn’t even need to be in the yard to make it awful. Still Jace tried to keep Luke from the worst of it.
He’d preferred it in King’s Landing, he thinks. Aegon and Aemond would help him up from the ground- when they weren’t the ones that put him there- and Ser Harwin would help when he could and tell them that it wasn’t right when he couldn’t. His mother had cared when he would come back to her apartments, with a fresh bruise on his cheek. She would call the maester for cream even when he said it was just from the training yard. That if he was a better swordsman, he would get hit less, and that he only got so many bruises because even now, he was still painfully mediocre with a sword.
He sat there long enough that night fell, but he still didn’t move to his bed, just pillowed his head on his arms and sat there until sleep took him.
A knock on his door woke him up, morning light streaming in through the thick curtains. The door opened before he could call for whoever it was to come in, and it turned out to be his mother. A few servants followed in after her, carrying trays of food with which to break their fast. They laid them out on the table and Jace noted that it was some of his favorites.
“Good morning,” He greeted. His voice was hoarse from sleep and winced as he heard it.
His mother cupped his face with one hand and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Good morning sweetling,” she said. Her eyes held a bit of concern, because he’s sure he looked awful. He felt awful. He felt raw and cut open and exhausted from everything. His mother sat down in the chair opposite from him and stirred her tea. He dutifully put some food on his plate even though he wasn’t hungry. He didn’t know how he was supposed to eat when his mother was holding an executioner's blade above his neck.
“Is everything okay? With the babe?” he asked. It wasn’t what he wanted to know, but he still felt compelled to ask. If something was truly wrong, she probably wouldn’t be here.
“I- yes. All is well,” she seemed a little put off by the question.
“That is good to hear,” he replied.
“Of all of your brothers, I expected this the least out of you, Jacaerys,” his mother said, cutting to the chase. The words were a gut punch of shame, but she wasn’t finished. “I understand matters of the heart, but this…”
“At least I married her.” The words were out of his mouth before he even realized what he’d said. At the look on his mother’s face he regretted it immediately. She looked affronted, her mouth open in shock but she quickly composed herself.
“I… suppose you did,” she said. Her face grew concerned. “Jacaerys-” she reached out again, but he pulled back.
“What did you decide, Mother,” he said. “I don’t- I just need to know.”
His mother pursed her lips. “We have decided to betroth you,” she said. Relief coursed through him so strongly he felt faint from it. He would get to marry Baela, actually and truly. “We will announce it when we go to King’s Landing in three day’s time.”
“King’s Landing?” Jace echoed, confused.
HIs mother nodded. “Lord Corlys had fallen gravely ill from an injury. They don’t know if he will survive.” she said the last part gently as if Jace cared deeply that Lord Corlys may die. “ His brother Ser Vaemond, has taken advantage of this and challenged Luke’s claim to Driftmark. The crown has agreed to hear petitions, and as such we are headed to King’s Landing.”
Jace belatedly thought of what his mother said yesterday, when they told her. Now of all times . He felt horrible for adding even more stress on her plate during such a time.
“I- I am sorry Mother. Truly I am,” he said. “We just- I needed-” he wanted desperately to explain himself more, but he could find no more logical reasons, “I love her, Mother. I really do.” tears began to pour down his face and he wiped uselessly at them with his sleeves. He heard her chair screech as she stood and made her away around the table to him. She wrapped her hands around him, and pulled him to her chest like he was a young child. He couldn’t stop the tears once they started. He tried to explain more what was happening but it all just came out as blubbering sobs.
“Oh my sweet boy,” she whispered. “Sometimes, I just feel like I don’t know you.”
