The next morning, sunlight spilled through the high windows of the private dining hall where Rhaenyra sat across from Laenor at a small oak table, picking at a plate of bread and smoked fish while her hands fidgeted with the edge of her napkin. She pushed a piece of fish around with her fork with a distant expression on her face. Laenor leaned back in his chair, sipping watered wine, watching her closely before setting his cup down and folding his arms. He tilted his head, catching her gaze, and spoke first. "You're worrying again, Rhaenyra, I can see it in your face, what's wrong?"
She exhaled hard, her chest heaving, and pushed her chair back, standing up to pace a few steps toward the window before turning back to him, her hands twisting together. "It's Jace," she confessed, her voice slightly strained. "Ever since he came back from Valyria, he's... he's not the same boy that left, and every day I see him slipping further from me."
Laenor leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, and nodded slowly, his brow creasing. "The things he must've seen there—horrors no man could walk away from unchanged, let alone a boy barely grown," he replied. "Even Daemon rarely speaks of what he saw there... a battle hardened warrior of his calibre terrified of what he saw... it's hard to believe."
Rhaenyra stopped pacing, gripping the back of her chair, and looked down at the table, her knuckles whitening as she spoke. "I feel like I'm losing him, Laenor, with everything he's done lately—jumping into that melee, risking his life for Cregan, those secret trips he takes to kings landing—and I'm useless, I can't protect him anymore, not from the choices he makes or the dangers he runs toward." Her voice cracked, and she pressed a hand to her chest, breathing fast as if the words hurt to push out.
Laenor stood up, crossing the room to her, and put his hands on her shoulders, squeezing gently while he looked her in the eyes. "Jace is stronger than we give him credit for," he assured her. "Yes, he's changed, but I'd say it's for the better, he's grown into a man—strong in mind and body, snd he's become the youngest knight in history." He tightened his grip, stepping closer, and added, "Our son will be a king men will speak of for years, Rhaenyra, maybe even greater than Jaehaerys, and that fire in him is what'll carry him there."
She looked up at him, her eyes softening, and reached out, touching his arm as a small smile broke through. "Thank you, Laenor, you're a good friend, always knowing what to say when I'm falling apart," she murmured, stepping into his arms, hugging him tightly while he patted her back, holding her until she pulled away, wiping her eyes with her sleeve.
Laenor stepped back, his face turning serious, and crossed his arms again, glancing toward the door to make sure no one could hear. "Besides, there are bigger things to worry about," he said, speaking quietly.
Rhaenyra frowned, tilting her head. "You mean?" she asked.
He nodded, stepping closer to the table, and leaned against it, lowering his voice further. "I've heard from my men in the Reach, and they're telling me there's troubling talk about who should sit the throne next, whispers that don't favor you or Jace," he explained, his jaw tightening.
Rhaenyra scowled, snatching her cup from the table and draining it in one gulp before setting it down hard. "I thought Jace's birth would've silenced all that traitorous talk, put an end to the scheming once and for all," she snapped, her voice thick with annoyance as she crossed her arms.
Laenor shook his head, pushing off the table, and walked toward the window, looking out at the courtyard below. "We were naive to think it'd stop."
"The queen doesn't care about rightful claims, she just wants her blood on the throne, and she'll push for it however she can," he said, turning back to face her.
Before Rhaenyra could reply, a sharp knock sounded at the door, and Laenor straightened, calling out, "Enter." A dragonkeeper stepped inside, bowing low as he regarded both of them, "lōrsa Laenor, Seasmoke iksis causing trouble, kessa ao come calm him?" (Lord Laenor, Seasmoke is causing trouble, will you come calm him?) Laenor nodded, replying in High Valyrian, "Eman, nyke kessa sagon isse naejot," (I have, I will be there soon), and the dragonkeeper bowed again, turning to leave, his robes swishing as he shut the door behind him.
Laenor turned back to Rhaenyra, grabbing his cloak from the chair and slinging it over his shoulders. "I've got to go see to Seasmoke, but we'll talk more later... stay strong, alright?" he said, offering her a quick smile before stepping toward the door, pulling it open, and walking out, leaving her standing alone in the room, her hands still crossed, staring after him as the door clicked shut.
Even after being reassured by her husband she still felt doubt creep into her mind. Jace would become the greatest Targaryen King in the history of Westeros, she knew that for sure. However there were those who didn't see that, those who would depose them.
She would never let that happen. She would never let anyone harm her Jace, and when she sat on the throne she would use that time ridding the realm of the enemies that would cast her down in favour of her younger brother.
Jace would become King.
If she had to be Maegor so he could become Jaehaerys... so be it.
___________________________
Jace woke up in his chambers with a blistering headache pounding behind his eyes, he groaned while pressing his palms to his temples, grateful that the brutal training sessions in his dreams left no bruises or cuts on his body but cursing the way they left his head throbbing like he'd been hit with a warhammer. He blinked against the dim morning light filtering through the curtains, his vision clearing, and froze when he saw Helaena lying next to him, her nightgown slipped off one shoulder, the fabric pooling around her arm, exposing the smooth curve of her collarbone. His face burned hot, blood rushing to his cheeks, and he quickly turned away, swallowing hard, his body tensing as he noticed the tightness in his breeches, a flush of shame hitting him. "I need to get her to stop sneaking into my bed," he muttered, sighing as he pushed himself up, rubbing his face. "It's going to kill me one day."
He couldn't fully blame her though, after he'd visited her and Daella yesterday both girls had clung to him, their arms wrapped tight around his waist, refusing to let go even after he swore he hadn't been in real danger when he jumped into the melee. They'd been so scared, their eyes wide and teary. In fact, Daella wasn't so quick to blush at everything, he'd have thought she might've crept in too.
Then he paused, his head turning slowly, and his expression flattened as he saw Daella on the other side of Helaena, curled up under the blanket, her hair spilling across the pillow. "Oh, wait... she did," he said, his voice dry. He sighed again, heavier this time, and muttered, "Why do I have so many troubles with girls lately? A year ago, I didn't have any of this."
He shook his head, pushing the thoughts away, and focused on the day ahead, because today was the joust and he was competing, having trained endlessly with Aemon in the dream world—hours of lance work, shield blocks, and strategy burned into his muscles—and he wasn't about to waste it. He swung his legs off the bed, standing up, and started dressing, pulling off his nightshirt and reaching for a fine tunic, the act of rustling fabric stirred Helaena and Daella, who yawned and sat up, blinking with tired eyes. Helaena rubbed her face, looking around. "What time is it, Jace?" she asked.
"Early morning," he replied, tossing his nightshirt aside, which made both girls flush red as he pulled on the tunic and layered a doublet over it, the Targaryen sigil embroidered in red thread across his chest.
Daella rubbed her eyes, frowning. "Why are you up so early?" she mumbled, sitting cross-legged on the bed.
Helaena flopped face-first back into the pillow, her muffled groan barely audible.
"The joust is today, and I want to practice before I compete," Jace said, buckling his belt and adjusting his boots, keeping his movements quick and focused.
Daella's frown deepened, and Helaena lifted her head, her hair messy as she turned to look at him. Jace felt a prickle of nerves under their stares, knowing they'd spent half of yesterday trying to talk him out of entering the joust, begging him to stay safe, but he'd insisted.
Their long argument meant he hadn't even gotten to apologize to Prince Qoren and Princess Aliandra like Viserys ordered—not that he minded delaying that. Helaena leaned over to Daella, whispering something that made Daella's cheeks pink, and Daella whispered back, both nodding with small, secretive smiles.
Jace's stomach twisted, his nerves spiking as they got up, moving to stand on either side of him, their smiles growing wider. "Jaceeee," they said together in a slightly lower tone than they usually spoke, making his pulse jump as they stepped closer, Helaena's hand brushing his arm and Daella's fingers grazing his shoulder. "Don't you want to skip the joust and stay with us?" Helaena asked, tilting her head, her nightgown still askew, while Daella added, "We are much better company than a bunch of sweaty knights and horses... don't you think?" Her hand slid around his back, tracing light lines, her blush deepening, and Jace's heart pounded faster, his throat tightening as he tried to speak, stammering, "I—I need to do this, I can't—I mean, I—" but he couldn't finish, their closeness scrambling his thoughts.
He swallowed hard, stepping back, and blurted, "I need to leave," before turning fast, grabbing his cloak, and bolting for the door.
"Oh poo..." Helaena said with a pout as she crossed her arms.
Daella sighed, "I knew that wouldn't work," she said as Jace yanked the door open and stepped out, shutting it quick, his chest heaving as he leaned against the wall, trying to calm his racing heart.
Inside, Helaena moved to the bed, sitting down with a pout. "Jace has changed so much since he left," she said, her voice soft and sad, pulling her knees up to her chest.
"If you'd been there you'd understand," Daella said in a quiet voice.
Daella sat beside her, hugging her own legs tight. "None of us came back the same," she said, resting her chin on her knees, her fingers brushing the necklace Jace had given her.
Helaena opened her mouth, starting to say, "It must've been aw—" but Daella cut her off. "I don't want to talk about it."
Helaena gave her a sad smile, reaching out to touch her arm. "I'm sorry, Daella, I didn't mean to," she said.
Daella exhaled, relaxing a bit, and muttered, "Sorry for snapping, I just don't like thinking about it." She looked down, her fingers tightening around her necklace.
Helaena rubbed her back gently, dropping the subject, "Ever since he came back, it feels like Jace is moving so far ahead I can't catch him, like he's leaving me behind."
Daella nodded, her voice quiet. "I know what you mean... I felt so useless in Valyria, watching Jace risk his life again and again, nearly dying so many times." She touched her necklace, her eyes glistening. "I think about everything he's done for me, giving me a real family, keeping me safe in the closest thing to hell on this earth, and what have I done? Nothing but take from him." Her voice broke, tears spilling down her cheeks, and she buried her face in her hands, sobbing softly.
Helaena slid closer, wrapping her arms around Daella, holding her tight. "Don't say that," she said, her own voice trembling. "I feel the same, like I'm just in his way, like he's moved on without me."
She teared up too, but wiped her eyes and stood, her jaw set. "I won't let it happen," she declared, turning to Daella. "I'm going to be with Jace forever, whether he likes it or not, and if I'm useless now, I'll become someone he needs."
Daella looked up, wiping her face. "How?" she asked.
Helaena paced a step, thinking out loud. "Jace has people under his command in that district he bought, all those buildings, and he's starting businesses, plus he'll be king one day, so he'll need smart people he trusts," she reasoned, tapping her chin.
Daella frowned, hugging her knees again. "We aren't smart," she said bluntly.
Helaena pouted, crossing her arms. "Hey, I'm smart," she huffed.
Daella shrugged. "My mother only taught me what I'd need to know in a whorehouse I can read and write, but I don't know anything else, not even Targaryen history," she admitted, looking down.
Helaena sat back down, grabbing Daella's hand. "It's not too late for us to learn, we can study, get better, be useful to Jace, and if that doesn't work, you could be like Visenya and learn to fight with a sword," she said, her eyes brightening.
Daella shook her head, unconvinced. "Me, a warrior? I can't do that," she muttered, pulling her hand away.
Helaena squeezed her shoulder, leaning in. "Yes, you can, we both can, and we'll show Jace we're worth keeping around, you're stronger than you think, you'd have to be to survive what you went through," she encouraged, smiling wide.
"But it was Jace who saved me and took care of me there... I didn't do anything," Daella said still looking down at her feet.
Helaena shook her head. "That's not true, Jace told me that if you hadn't of brought Vermax to him and his grandfather then they would've all died."
"Even if Jace seems invincible at times he isn't, he needs us, and we have to be more than useless noblewomen if we want to make sure he's safe," Helaena argued.
Daella looked at her, a small smile breaking through, and nodded. "Alright, if we both become indispensable then we can keep him safe and... he'll have to take us as his wives," she said.
Helaena grinned, clapping her hands. She and Daella had agreed months ago after long talks in her room to share Jace like Aegon's sister-wives, splitting his heart between them to keep him close forever. "Exactly, we'll do it together," she said, pulling Daella into a quick hug, both girls laughing softly.
___________________________
Jace hurried through the corridors of the Red Keep his boots echoing on the stone floor as he muttered to himself about Helaena and Daella's odd behavior that morning. "What is wrong with them? One moment they are glaring at me, and the next they are... well... Gods I will never understand girls." He rounded a corner while lost in thought, and nearly collided with Princess Aliandra, who stood chatting with her Dornish guard, a tall man with a scarred cheek, and her handmaiden. Panic surged through him, because he still had not delivered the apology Viserys had ordered, and he very much did not want to be in her presence without her father around, as he suspected he was the only one who could rein her in. He dove behind a tapestry depicting a dragon; he pressed his back to the wall, his heart pounding, and peered out, praying she had not seen him.
Aliandra's voice carried over though he couldn't hear exactly what she said. Her guard glanced around and spotted Jace sticking out from the tapestry's edge. Jace froze, locking eyes with the guard, and shook his head frantically, mouthing, "Please, no." The guard's lips twitched with a hint of sympathy, and he jerked his head slightly, signaling Jace to run. The guard turned back to Aliandra, "My lady, shall we proceed to the gardens?"
Jace slipped from behind the tapestry and darted down a side corridor, his cloak flapping as he rounded another corner, slowing only when Aliandra's laughter faded. He exhaled, thinking he was safe, but then heard giggles ahead and saw Maris Baratheon and her sister Ellyn approaching, their dark hair bouncing as they walked arm-in-arm, smiling until they spotted him. Maris broke away, stepping close with a grin. "Jace, what luck finding you here. I was hoping to ask if you had someone to cheer you at the joust?" she asked. Her fingers brushed his arm, making him step back as his cheeks warmed.
Ellyn nudged Maris aside, resting her hand on Jace's shoulder and leaning closer. "Pay her no mind, Jace. I would cheer you far better," she said, as she batted her lashes.
Maris glared, shoving Ellyn's hand off him. "Back off, Ellyn," she whispered.
Ellyn crossed her arms, stepping forward. "You always hog him. It is my turn," she retorted. Their voices rose as they bickered, the argument growing louder while Jace's nerves frayed, his eyes darting for an escape.
"I need to... check on my... horse," Jace said awkwardly, sidestepping them. He bolted down the hall, ignoring Maris's call of "Wait, Jace!" and Ellyn's "You ruined it!" He pushed through a door to the courtyard, the cool morning air hitting his flushed face.
"Finally I can get some training done," Jace said to himself with a smile on his face.
Ser Erryk fell into step beside him, a few second after he walked into the courtyard. "Prince Jacaerys, the King and Princess Rhaenyra wish you to remain in the Red Keep today," he said. His hand rested on his sword hilt.
Jace kept walking and shook his head. "I cannot do that, Ser Erryk. I need to train for the joust this afternoon, but you are welcome to come with me," he replied. He glanced at the knight with a half-smile.
Erryk frowned and stepped in front of him. "My prince, it is not safe, and the King was clear," he began, but Jace cut him off, clapping his shoulder.
"I will be fine, Erryk. I am only going to the tourney grounds, not storming a castle," Jace said. His grin widened.
Erryk sighed, his stern face softening, he had always had a soft spot for Jace, ever since he caught him sneaking tarts from the kitchens. "Alright, but no sneaking off again m," he muttered.
Jace nodded, his grin widening, and they headed out together, crossing the drawbridge and weaving through the bustling streets of King's Landing to the tourney grounds, where numerous workers ran around getting everything ready for when the lords and knights arrived. They reached the entrance, and two organisers in velvet tunics greeted them, bowing low while the guards snapped to attention.
"Prince Jacaerys, ot is an honour," one organizer said.
Jace nodded. "I would like the jousting ring for training. Can you clear it for me?" he asked.
The other organizer bobbed his head. "At once, my prince," he replied. He shouted orders to a group of labourers who scurried off to ready the ring, dragging barriers into place and raking the sand smooth.
Jace clapped Erryk's arm. "See, no trouble," he said. He strode toward the field, he needed to make sure he put what he learned into his muscle memory as much as possible or everything he did would be for nothing. He strode onto the jousting ring, and turned to Ser Erryk, who followed close behind, his white cloak swaying. "Erryk, I need your help setting this up," Jace said, gesturing to the wooden dummies lined along the side of the ring, each mounted on swiveling bases to mimic moving targets. "Can you tie weights to those ropes and set them swinging? I want them moving fast and to feel heavy like a real person."
Erryk raised an eyebrow but nodded. "As you wish, my prince," he replied, moving to the ropes dangling from the dummies' sides. He grabbed iron weights from a nearby crate, tying them securely while Jace fetched his lance from the rack, testing its balance in his hands; it was a little awkward on his small frame but the muscle he'd built over the past few months helped compensate for that. He called over a stableboy to saddle his horse, a black destrier named Stormwing that he had purchased especially for the joust, the seller had told him to was his best horse. Jace patted the horse's flank, murmuring, "Easy, boy, we've got work to do," before turning back to Erryk, who finished knotting the last rope. "Pull them back and let them swing when I signal," Jace instructed, mounting Stormwing with a smooth leap, settling into the saddle, and gripping the reins.
Erryk stepped back, holding the ropes taut, and looked at Jace. "You sure about this, my Prince? Swinging dummies aren't standard training," he said.
Jace grinned, adjusting his grip on the lance. "I'm sure. I trained like this in... well, let's just say I've practiced it before," he said, catching himself before mentioning the dream world where Aemon had drilled him mercilessly. He nodded at Erryk. "Now!"
Erryk released the ropes, and the dummies lurched into motion, swinging wildly across the ring. Jace spurred Stormwing forward, the horse surging into a gallop, hooves pounding the sand, and leveled his lance, aiming for the first dummy. He struck it dead center, the lance cracking against the shield, splintering wood and sending the dummy spinning faster as he rode past while pulling the lance free without breaking stride. He wheeled Stormwing around, guiding the horse with his knees and charged again hitting the second dummy so hard it snapped off, flying into the dirt while Jace kept his balance and rode toward the third, striking it low, and knocking the dummy clean off its base.
Erryk stood frozen, his hands still on the ropes, his jaw slack as he watched Jace weave through the swinging targets, controlling his horse like a master and striking every dummy with an accuracy that made it look easy. 'Gods be good, the boy's a natural,' Erryk thought. 'I didn't learn to strike moving targets like that until I'd been a knight for years, and even then, I'd miss half the time. Where did he pick this up?' He shook his head, marveling as Jace charged again, this time ducking under a swinging dummy's while thrusting his lance upward, catching the shield's edge of another dummy flipping the it over.
Jace pulled Stormwing to a halt, he was breathing hard now and his muscles started to burn. He looked at Erryk, wiping sweat from his brow. "How's that for a start?" he asked with a grin on his face.
Erryk crossed his arms, trying to hide his shock. "Better than most knights I've seen, but don't let it go to your head," he said, thiugh he couldn't help but keep the awe from his voice. "Where'd you learn to ride like that, keeping the horse so steady while you strike is no easy feat?"
Jace shrugged, dismounting and leaning the lance against the rail. "I've had... good teachers," he said, thinking of Aemon's lessons in the dream world, hours of jousting against spectral knights until his arms burned. "Let's reset them but this time make them swing faster."
Erryk's eyes widened. "Faster? You'll break your lance or your neck," he warned, but he moved to the ropes anyway, tying heavier weights as Jace remounted Stormwing, patting the horse's neck and whispering, "You're doing great, let's push it."
Erryk pulled the ropes back, grunting with the effort, and glanced at Jace. "You're not like most boys your age, you know that?" he said, shaking his head. "Most would be content with a few tilts, not this madness."
Jace laughed, gripping his lance. "I'm not most boys," he replied, nodding. "Go!"
Erryk let the ropes go, and the dummies whipped across the ring, swinging twice as fast, their bodies blurring as they spun. Jace spurred Stormwing into a gallop and struck the first dummy, the lance cracking wood but glancing off, throwing him slightly off balance. He cursed under his breath, steadied himself, and charged again, this time adjusting his angle, hitting the second dummy square, shattering its shield into splinters that sprayed across the sand. He rode through, dodging a third dummy, and thrust his lance at the fourth, catching it and sending it crashing down, the base splintering as Stormwing snorted and tossed his head.
Erryk clapped slowly unable to hide his awe. 'The boy's doing things I've never seen a squire manage, let alone a lad his age,' he thought, watching Jace control Stormwing with such precision the horse seemed an extension of him. 'That lance work, the way he adjusts mid-charge—it's like he's fought a hundred tilts already. Who taught him this?' He stepped forward raising his hand. "Enough, Jace, you'll tire the horse out before the real joust," he called.
Jace pulled up and dismounted, handing the lance to a squire who ran up. "One more round?" he asked, looking at Erryk with a hopeful grin.
Erryk shook his head, chuckling. "You're a menace, you know that? Save some of that fire for the tourney," he said, walking over to clap Jace's shoulder. "You'll unhorse half the knights out there if you ride like this."
Jace grinned wider, wiping his face with his sleeve. "That's the plan," he said, leading Stormwing to the stableboy to cool down, feeling the ache in his arms but loving every moment of it. He couldn't help the giddiness he felt, that only a short few days ago he knew nothing about jousting but now he was able to gain such a high degree of skill in it through the dream walking he did. Unlike swordsmanship which took a little while to burn into his muscle memory; jousting was a lot easier. It was both simple and complex at the same time. Simple in its movements and rules, but complex in the strategies and the adjustments you need to make based on opponents and other factors. Aemon had given him everything he needed to know about jousting. From its rules, to the different forms, to the different strategies you could employ. He had told Jaden everything. Now all Jaden needed to do was apply this knowledge to the real world, which he was finding easy.
Jace had no thoughts about winning the joust when he entered it, he believed that even under the tutelage of a great knight Jace wouldn't win. These knights had been jousting for years and he couldn't beat that kind of experience. But seeing his skills in action Jace couldn't help but consider that maybe he had what it took.
Maybe he had what it took to win.
(AN: Jace is about to start his joust how will he do in it? If he does win who will he crown the Queen of beauty or whatever the fuck it's called. Will he win? Who will be in the heist? Perhaps a certain professional hater kings guard? Will mushroom be in the heist? Who knows man. Anyway I hope you liked the chapter.)
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