Work Text:
Despite all the pleasures they had shared together - and there were many - Jessamyn thought unbraiding Jeyne's hair might be one of the best. Sitting before the glass in her bedchamber, with Jessamyn's hands undoing the plaits and massaging Jeyne's scalp, Jeyne seemed to shed all of her cares and melt into Jessamyn's touch. More a woman, Jessamyn thought, and less the Lady of the Eyrie.
The woman, Jessamyn loved with all of her heart. The lady, she wasn't quite sure she could ever even know.
As Jessamyn worked the pins out, Jeyne sighed in relief. “I have never been so happy to see the back of someone. It astounds me how much someone who fancied himself King of the Stepstones can pout like a child denied a sweet.”
Jessamyn smiled, a lock of Jeyne’s hair wound gently around her finger. “Tell Ser Arnold that. I heard him nattering to Lord Waynwood about how unfair it was that you didn’t give a great man like Prince Daemon a fair hearing.”
“If my cousin thinks Daemon is a great man,” Jeyne retorted, standing up and shaking out her hair, “then he’s an even bigger fool than I thought.”
Jessamyn chortled at that, but it wasn’t enough to dispel the knot of tension in her belly. “He also said something about these tales that you were searching for a husband,” she said, trying to keep her voice light. “He thinks he’d be the best candidate, of course, but Lord Waynwood mentioned that you asked about his second son, and then Lord Belmore brought up his brother who won the tourney at Strongsong last year, and - .”
“Jess?”
“Yes, my lady?”
“Jess, look at me.” When Jessamyn met her eyes, the sight of Jeyne with her blond hair loose around her shoulders nearly took her breath away. Her eyes were kind and her voice soft as she said, “I have no wish to marry.”
"But are the rumors true?" Jessamyn hated how her voice cracked a little on the last word.
Jeyne rubbed the back of her neck, one side of her mouth halfheartedly quirking upward. "Sometimes it helps to let them feel that they have a chance." She paused. "It's all part of the game."
The game."It's not a game to me, my lady," she said quietly.
Jeyne's brows drew together, her head slightly tilting to one side. “You know how I feel about you.” Her eyes widened as she stroked the back of Jessamyn’s hand. “Don’t you?”
“I know."
Jeyne smiled, her face relaxing.
"But I also know you could have anyone," Jessamyn said, saying the words to the floor because if she said them while looking at Jeyne she thought she might cry. "You’re only one-and-twenty. And not every man is Daemon Targaryen.”
“No, not every man is Daemon Targaryen. But not even one of them is you.” Jeyne took Jessamyn's other hand in hers. "Please believe me," she pleaded.
“I do believe you,” she replied, tentatively gripping Jeyne's fingers. Her eyes cast downward. “But I also know I’m safe for you. I cannot take the Vale from you as a man could. If you were truly free to choose – “
“I am free to choose. And I choose you.” Jeyne caught Jessamyn's chin and pressed their lips together.
Would you choose me before the Vale? She knew it was a fruitless question. The Vale was as much part of Jeyne as her blue eyes or her long legs or her sharp nose, and to ask her to be anything else would be to turn her into a stranger. No matter how much she loves you, she will always be the Lady first. Can you live with that?
As Jeyne pulled away, she whispered just above Jessamyn's mouth, "No matter what any man could offer me, no matter how any woman could love me, I would choose you. I would always choose you."
Can I live with that? Yes, I can. And as Jessamyn leaned forward to kiss Jeyne in return, she knew her own choice was forever made.