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Countless many things bother Lady Baela.
She doesn’t like when Moondancer nips at the nape of her neck in an attempt to ward off her pet monkey, who so often perches himself on her shoulders. (She’d prefer for them to get along but asking a monkey to make friends with a dragon isn’t among her brightest of ideas.) Just as she’s bothered by the redundant nagging of her septa on the topic of her below-average embroidery. Anyone’s embroidery would be below par compared to that of her sister Rhaena.
But above all since the age she could comprehend marriage and what it means for a lady of her position, she has been most bothered by not having the honor (if you could truly call it that) of meeting the man whom she has been promised to since the age of two.
Baela knows it is not an abnormal thing for noble ladies to make the acquaintance of their grooms on the day of the wedding, many successful marriages have happened in that fashion. But Baela was Targaryen. Her groom was her brother.
And it is quite an abnormal thing for a sister to have not yet met her brother.
What she knows of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon is few and far between. What she knows is what every other person in the realm, noble or otherwise, knows of him.
He is the eldest son of House Velaryon, the Prince of Dragonstone, the rider of Vermax, and the heir to the most powerful seat in the world.
That is all she knows of him.
What she should know of him is the way he laughs- many a time Baela would wonder if he would chuckle or full-belly laugh at jokes. If he loves to drift across the skies with Vermax as she does with Moondancer. The color of his eyes, were they lilac like hers or a deep purple like father? His favorite food, his favorite song to request from the bard, is he humorous, is he tall?
How would his lips feel upon hers?
So many questions and they eat away at Baela as if maggots are digesting her pitiful body.
Weeks, months, years, have gone by, and not once has she received anything that could be classified as correspondence from her brother. Unless you include polite name day gifts accompanied by short letters of greeting she’s taken to ignoring these past few years. Fifteen years and all Baela could say she knows of him is the neat way he signs “yours always, Jace” at the bottom of all his letters.
Yours always. How utterly ridiculous.
In truth she does belong to him as he belongs to her, their parents have made sure of that matter but what does that mean for two strangers bound together by blood and the promise of matrimony but not tenderness? Not emotions driven by the connections lovers are meant to cultivate with one another?
Baela has seen love. Love is her father indulging her mother in one last race against Vhagar and Caraxes before returning home. It’s her mother attending to her stepmother without fail on her birthing bed. Love is the devotion that was so evident on their lips as all three of them bound themselves together as the conquerors did.
How is Baela meant to marry a man she does not know?
A man that does not know her?
Her betrothed does not know how she prefers mulled wine to the strong ale her father insists will aid her in becoming a more tolerant drinker. Or how she adores the taste of freshly picked peaches on sweltering summer afternoons on Pentos. If she had known Jacaerys, if she was allowed to grow up alongside him maybe then he would know how she tearfully held Rhaena when her mother was on the brink of death after the birth of Baelon. Maybe he would’ve held her on that gloomy morning when the salt of her tears mixed with the smoke of the funeral pyre holding her baby brother.
Maybe. All Baela has are maybes and what-ifs.
Well maybe she doesn’t want to marry a brother—if she can truly call him that—who she hardly knows? Maybe the time she could be wooed by courting and flattery was long behind her. Maybe she wants nothing to do with the enigma that is the crown prince.
Maybe Baela would rather burrow herself beneath her grandiose bed than be expected to wed in a fortnight in front of gods and judgmental Westerosi nobility. In a ceremony that she is certain will be much too Andal for her.
A ceremony she was headed for right now.
“Is he a troll, is that it?”
Daemon rolls his eyes from his seat across from her aboard their ship heading straight for the port of King’s Landing.
“Your brother is not a troll Baela.”
“Then why have we not yet been introduced? Surely you understand how odd it is father? I’ve met Luke, Joffrey, Aegon, and Viserys. I’ve spent summers on Driftmark with them! I know them as I know myself but Jacaerys is a stranger to me.”
Baela fixes him with the same type of no-nonsense gaze her mother uses when she requires answers from him. They’ve been in close quarters together for weeks and each time she brings up the topic of her mystery of a husband-to-be he tells her it’s just the nerves and she has nothing to worry about.
Nervous her fuckin’ ass, what she was was furious her father wasn’t speaking plainly with her. As well as taking much too long to answer for her liking.
“Well! What could possibly keep my betrothed away from me for fifteen almost sixteen years of my life?”
“Maybe it’s the way you are an enemy to everyone’s peace?” He jests but Baela is still quick to throw a cushion at his face and he’s even quicker to catch it.
She’s not in the mood for his jokes currently just as he’s not particularly in the mood for her onslaught of questions, but she’s his beloved daughter and if he knows one thing about her it's that she hides her anxiousness well, but not well enough.
Daemon’s hand reaches to grab Baela’s but just as he predicted she quickly moves them out of reach, scowling she turns to speak to him, “I thought I was an enemy to your peace.”
He studies her pout for a second. She tries to appear angry but she only succeeds in looking like an annoyed bunny.
His firstborn, his little girl. She reminds Daemon of her mother, but the attitude she gets from her stepmother. If his wives were here they’d better handle the situation but both were in the capital awaiting his arrival with their daughter. “You are the apple of my eye, sweet girl.” He tells her true.
She slouches in her seat but her scowl twitches into an almost smile. “Yet you will not tell me anything I want to know.”
The Rogue Prince leans back in his seat mimicking her. “The prince has many responsibilities, it is why you do not see him as often compared to your younger siblings. He takes them very seriously, personally I’d say too seriously but don’t tell him I said that—.”
Baela cuts him off, “You’re bullshitting me.”
Daemon tilts his head, he finds her deadpan tone amusing. “Oh? And why do you feel that way?”
Her eyes find their way into the back of her skull. He cannot be serious, she loves her father she really does, but he is not a serious man.
“You think me daft, father?”
“I believe you to be a very intelligent young woman dearest.”
“Then surely you know your excuses for the prince and his reluctance to be in my vicinity is bullshit, right?”
The boat rocks slightly on the tranquil waves, and a person less accustomed to the nausea-inducing back and forth of the ship may find it difficult to spend weeks aboard grandsire’s ships, but Baela was not such a person. The idle chatter of the sailors above didn’t deter her from her mission of finding the truth and the crashing of the waters against the hull only served as pleasant background noise to her showdown with her father. Soon they will dock in the capital and she will be whisked away from him until the hour of her wedding, now is the only chance she has.
She stares at the wrinkles around his eyes. Watching and waiting for a semblance of the truth.
Daemon heaves a sigh and Baela sits further up in her seat.
“I don’t know for certain why Jace makes excuses to stay in King’s Landing during your summer holidays and I will not pretend to understand the inner workings of his mind and you could just ask him for yourself once you arrive but..”
Baela lets out a disgruntled noise across from him, “But? But what? Quickly!”
“But—whether you knew him all your life or not that doesn’t change how marriage is merely a formality.”
As a boy her father was married off to Rhae Royce on the order of her great-grandmother, Baela knows where this story is headed (as she does most of his repetitive stories) but she has no care for it currently. What she cares for is no longer tiptoeing around the matter of her mystery groom.
It’s her turn to sigh and as she does she taps the heels of her boots on the wood panels of the floor. “Yes, yes father I know marriage does not bar us from the other many pleasures of life and blah blah blah…where are you going with this?”
The corners of his lips curve into a smile and it accentuates the wrinkles that line his aging face even more.
“Marriage is a formality but your marriage is the bond of dragons. Jacaerys is your brother as you are his sister, how can he be a stranger to you darling girl if your very soul was made with him in mind?”
Soulmates.
That’s what her father is trying to say to her.
That she and the brother she’s never met are soulmates.
His humor has surely improved in his older years.
Daemon continues before she has a chance to maniacally laugh in his face, “My first marriage is a time I wish to forever erase from my memory.”
“Because it was arranged,” Baela finishes for him. “Because you did not pick Rhae for yourself as you picked muña and mother.”
“Precisely.”
Baela sits with his reply for a second, “But I suffer from the same predicament father, I did not pick Jacaerys for myself.”
Daemon looks at her properly then. He takes in her violet eyes speckled with blue that stare at him with such intensity. The silver locks that adorn her head are neatly pulled back from her face in a single intricate braid. It allows him to better assess the furrow of her brows when she speaks.
She’s beautiful, like her mother.
Baela reiterates, “I did not pick Jacaerys to wed.”
“You may have not, but the gods have.”
His daughter can no longer hold back the sarcastic laughter that spills from her mouth, “The gods? And is it the gods who have put me in this ship to my sham of a betrothed?”
Daemon places his chin atop his hand opting to wait for her chuckles to cease. “Since the beginning, our ancestors have only wed those who share our blood, this is what our gods have intended for us, it is how we thrive to the fullest of our existence. An existence which is far greater than those who are not kin could ever hope to understand.”
Her father has always been rather proud of their heritage. Likewise, he’s raised all his children on similar values, to take pride in being the blood of the greatness that was Old Valyria. So it doesn’t come as a surprise to Baela to hear him say any of this. She wants so desperately to believe it’s true.
A brother that was made only for her.
A brother that will know her like no other.
A brother to bind her blood to as dragons do.
But her brother is still a stranger, no matter what her father says.
Baela looks away from the somber look Daemon gives her and instead to the single window in their cabin, in the distance she sees the towers of King’s Landing highlighted by the rising sun. “And you believe this to be true kepa?”
“Jacaerys is a dragon and brother to you, make no mistake you will be happy my brave girl. I’ve known you since the moment you’ve opened your eyes and I’ve known him for longer, you were made to be in every sense of the word my dear. I’ve told him the same too, you’ll both be happy, as I am with your mothers.”
The sailors above them signal the sighting of the capital and rush to prepare for docking. The thuds of their boots across the deck annoy Baela for the first time in weeks. It is only a matter of time before her nuptials.
She turns to her kepa once more. “And if I'm not?”
“How can you not be happy with the other half of your soul?”
“…Father, I will throw myself off this boat.”
See? Not a very serious man.
Daemon laughs and at last holds her hand in his, “One day you’ll look back on this and thank me.”
She allows him to raise her hand to his lips for a kiss.
“I doubt it, old man.”
—
King’s Landing is suffocating.
As opposed to the rather manageable court of Pentos, Baela has no love for the pompous lords and ladies fluttering around the Red Keep at any given moment. This is supposed to be their home is it not? She should not be forced to maintain a pleasant smile on her face so the nobility who seem they have nothing better to do will refrain from spreading gossip of the “snotty queen-to-be”.
A bride should at the very least be allowed to wallow in her misery before her wedding day, right?
“Do not slouch so much beloved or you may get pricked.”
“This color looks beautiful on you, dearest.”
How can one describe Queen Rhaenyra and Lady Laena? On most occasions, they’re the greatest mothers a girl could ask for. At this particular moment? Baela would prefer they stop hovering around the seamstress and herself like moths to a flame.
So much for being allowed to wallow in misery.
They’re currently in the queen’s chambers, a palatial and lavish space with its grand canopy draped over the bed, which Baela rightly assumes is shared by both Laena and Daemon. Wood furniture accentuates the room and glistens in the afternoon sun rays coming from the balcony. No one will dare say there lived another Targaryen monarch as opulent as her Grace, and in the middle of Rhaenyra’s magnificent chamber stands her stepdaughter being fitted for her gown.
She’s been in the Red Keep for almost half a day and surprisingly (not really) she hasn’t caught a single glimpse of her betrothed. The first to greet her were her younger siblings at the dock occupied by half of the Queensguard naturally. The siblings then broke fast together on arrival to the Keep with a spread of buttered baked goods and fresh fruit. Lucerys had regrettably informed her Jacaerys would not be joining them but he did present her with flowers on his behalf.
Rhaena thought it romantic.
Baela did not care for his orchids.
And Aegon attempted to feed Stormcloud the petals until Joffrey took them away from his brother and asked for a servant to place them in Baela’s room.
Thankfully, she was allowed a few hours of rest and reprieve before the tedious tasks of pre-wedding preparations began. In the hours between then and now she’s asked a multitude of people from young children to any servant that passed by her about Prince Jacaerys and the answer reminded the same. Each is a variation of how he is the Prince of Dragonstone, the future king, and their wedding will be beautiful.
All as useless as her father was.
Her mothers were no different.
“And where is the prince right now?” Baela questioned them while attempting to stand still atop her place on the stool. Her eyes flit across the servants milling about the room and occasionally coming to consult Laena over the process of their preparations.
The queen had her back turned to her, accessing which jewels would best compliment Baela’s floor-length ivory gown embroidered with delicate pearl details. “Hmm? Oh, I’ve asked him to oversee my meetings today so I could give you my undivided attention on your special day.”
Baela and Laena share a knowing look.
Rhaenyra has always longed for a daughter and with the birth of the twins, it seems her prayers were answered. She had hoped to bring another girl into this world, to gift Laena a daughter as she gifted her with Baela and Rhaena but after the untimely death of Visenya, they decided it was best to cherish the children they now have.
Leaving Baela’s side and finally allowing her to slouch a bit, Laena makes her way towards Rhaenyra who’s now giddily holding up the perfect teal diamond set to compliment her gown. “You’ve always had such a keen eye, my love”, Laena praises. “You like them don’t you Baela?”
For good measure, Rhaenyra adds, “They used to belong to the first Velaryon queen consort, Alyssa, wife of Aenys. A beautiful way to represent your mother’s house.”
Baela looks at the bright smile on Rhaenyra’s face and then towards her mother that gives her an encouraging nod.
“They look beautiful your grace. I'd be honored to wear them.”
Together her mothers clasp the necklace and matching earrings on and at last position her towards the mirror. Every pair of eyes in the room then turns towards her.
“You’ll make a beautiful bride.” They gush.
“They’ll sing songs about you, my lady.” They adore.
“The prince won’t be able to keep his eyes off you.”
The prince, of course, how could she forget? The reason she was here. The reason she’s in this gown and her curls have been beautifully framed across her face and pinned up with an equally gorgeous tiara. She was here to wed a complete stranger who could be a beast for all she knows and all everyone in that room cared for was what color of lip tint best complimented her skin tone.
Baela was tired of obeying. She was tired of pretending everything was without flaw, that she was a giddy bride awaiting her prince and she was unquestionably tired of hearing excuse after excuse on behalf of said foolish prince.
She shall give him a well-deserved taste of his own medicine.
If Prince Jacaerys Velaryon was so adamant on staying away from her then maybe she won’t give him the satisfaction of walking down the aisle to him. It’ll take a whole lot more than some flowers he didn’t have the decency to gift himself and the promise of being his queen to secure Baela’s hand in matrimony.
JACAERYS.
There are two things Jace did not expect to encounter on his usually peaceful walk from the small council chamber to the throne room, which he was expected to report to the queen about the proceedings of today’s meetings.
One, he did not expect to see a lonely monkey traversing around the Keep as a young maid chased after it. And two, he especially didn’t expect to see a hoard of guards with his brother Lucerys at the helm. Surprisingly, before he could ask what was the meaning of this commotion, Rhaena barreled into him with fresh tears on her cheeks.
“She’s gone!” She sobbed while clutching tightly at the sleeves of his tunic.
Jace was confused at her outburst. Who was gone?
“She’s gone!” Hiccup. “Oh, Jace we cannot find her!” Hiccup.
His hand quickly reaches up to rub her back in an attempt to soothe her erratic sniffles that alerted Luke to their side. Jace wasn’t going to get any answers from poor Rhaena, so he turned to Luke. “Why is she crying? Who’s gone?”
Luke hardly if ever looked nervous. He was always the fun-loving second son, the look of anxiety-riddled in his eyes was reserved for Jace and his eldest son complex. But now he’s staring at Luke who has a foreign look in his eyes that he's only seen a few times before as his brother attempts to gauge how best to inform him.
“Out with it brother your prince demands it,” Jace says sternly. He doesn’t like to pull rank but Luke is taking much too long for his liking and if it’s so grave that gentle Rhaena is crying? He would like to deal with the situation as quickly as possible.
Luke stands up straighter when addressing Jace. “It’s Baela brother, there’s no sight of her within the Red Keep or any of its surrounding areas. We’re dispatching a unit into the city to search for her there.”
Baela.
Jacaerys brow furrows. What imbecile would let a lady that hardly knows her way around the Keep let alone all of King’s Landing escape without a guide or protection?
His Baela.
She could be lost or mugged or worse and Jacaerys does not want to think of anything worse than that.
His sister Baela was missing and he was just standing here like a stone. He needs to find her. He needs to return her safely to the Keep. He must find his bride.
“I’ll return her to us Rhaena do not fret.”
At once Jace calls for a servant to escort Rhaena back to her room and another to ready his horse. “I’ll join you and the knights on horseback to search for her. Do you know what she was wearing? And where is kepa?”
Luke struggles to keep up with Jace’s brisk strides to the stables. “Her maid said she was last wearing her wedding gown and Daemon is scouting the ship ports on Caraxes. Nothing will leave or enter the city while Lady Baela is missing.”
Her wedding gown. She was just being fitted for the dress she was supposed to marry him in and now she’s gone. His lovely bride was gone and possibly hurt.
Jace replies with gritted teeth, raking his mind for any potential places Baela would’ve gone or been taken to, “And what of our mothers? Are they safe?”
Luke nods in answer. “They are with Joffrey, Aegon, and Viserys but Laena has said she’ll soon take to the skies on Vhagar if we do not turn up with her.”
“Then let us hope we find her swiftly brother. And may the gods have mercy on anyone who dares to harm her because I surely won’t.”
BAELA.
Moondancer was an ungrateful mount if there ever was one.
“C'mon please, I’m begging we’ll get you even better sheep once we’re on Dragonstone I swear it!” Baela says in a desperate bid to coax her away from her meal but Moondancer is firmly ripping apart the burnt flesh and Baela is no further away from King’s Landing.
She kicks up the gravel in her frustration.
Soon the dragon lords will notice she’s snuck in the pit—or worse—her family will come to retrieve her. Neither are predicaments Baela wishes to find herself in. Her only option was to sit, wait, and prey Moondancer does not long for an afternoon nap after her feast of sheep.
How wonderful this all is. This is just what she wished for when she planned her escape from the Keep. Well, it was less of a concrete plan and more of a spontaneous dash across the courtyard to the stables once she managed to get away from her mothers and the throng of servants everywhere. She believes she may have plowed through a squire with her steed but she’s not quite sure anymore.
But that doesn’t matter, not anymore at least. What matters now is finding a way out of this dreadful city and locating wherever her saddle has been placed by the dragon keepers. Surely it must be somewhere around…
“Hello, my lady.”
JACAERYS.
She is incomparable in her wedding gown.
Sure, the bottom is streaked with dirt and on his way inside he found multiple stray pearls he assumed were from her fabric but despite all that Jace knew more than anything that her beauty was unrivaled in Westeros and whatever lay beyond their kingdom.
The dragonpit was obviously his first hunch. If Baela wanted to leave the city as quickly as possible she’d head straight to Moondancer, it’s what Jace would’ve done. All those nights of begging Luke to tell him any minuscule detail about her has certainly paid off.
Seeing her for the first was learning how to breathe again after struggling against waves dragging him under. Waves muddled with anxiety and fear. His palms were sweaty and he knew that she was displeased from the way she had her hands placed on her hips like Laena so often does. To say he was nervous would be a lie because nervous was an understatement. Nervous was something he couldn’t be right now.
He needs to charm her, he needs to woo her, apologize to her for being a coward, and he especially had to hope she doesn’t decide to sick Moondancer on him.
A lifetime of courting in a single interaction.
It’s nothing the Prince of Dragonstone cannot handle.
And if she decides to smack him well, he deserves that too.
With a few shaky breaths he speaks to his bride for the first time in seventeen years, “Hello, my lady.”
BAELA.
Baela whirls around to find the source of the voice that started her. She looks a few paces ahead of her position beside Moondancer to find a young man about the same age as her. At first glance, he didn’t appear to be a dragon keeper but his clothes looked rather plain so maybe he was an assistant?
Baela studied his features, his hair was dark but not the same color as grandmother’s but more of a chestnut and it hung around his face in delicate waves. Sweat lingered across his forehead and above the dip of his cupid’s bow. His lips were pink and pleasantly full (not that it was an important observation). Higher up Baela is then met with eyes that were noticeably darker than his hair, almost midnight black, and for some reason, they stared at her with such intimacy.
“Are you an assistant to the keepers?” She questioned.
His full lips (that she definitely wasn’t staring at) curled into an amusing smile. “Pardon?”
Baela hums, giving this boy another once over. He was tall and from the way his tunic fit snug around his biceps he was strong as well. It doesn’t matter if he’s a keeper assistant or not, he will do just fine.
“Never mind that, come assist me in finding my saddle.”
She turns and begins to walk away in search of her precious saddle but when she doesn’t hear footsteps following her, she turns back around again. “Did you not hear me?”
His eyebrows raise in understanding, “Yes my lady, I heard you well enough but forgive me why are you searching for your saddle?” His eyes then move to Moondancer still chowing down on her sheep. “It also seems your dragon is otherwise occupied.” As if hearing him Moondancer huffs in his general direction and he replies with a small wave hello.
A breath of frustration leaves her lips. Since when did assistants ask so many questions? And she certainly did not expect to be betrayed by her dragon of all creatures.
“Does that matter sir, or must you know the entirety of my life story to assist a lady in need?”
He smiles, and Baela swears it is the most charming smile she’s ever seen. “Of course not but they’re talking about a Targaryen lady missing from the Red Keep, that doesn’t happen to be you, would it?”
Her eyes narrow at him. “And what if I was?”
He takes a single step towards her and Baela eyes him even more carefully than before. “What could’ve upset a lovely lady such as yourself so much you’ve decided to run away from home?”
He’s teasing her and frankly wasting her time.
“Well if telling you will be the only way you’ll aid me then so be it. I have no wish to marry a potential beast of a stranger, especially one that is so pathetic he sends his younger brother to deliver me his flowers.”
For a second Baela could’ve sworn his smile dipped into a frown but she doesn’t have time to dwell on it. “Well, sir? Will you assist me now or have you sought me out to only bother me?”
She watches as he pretends to consider for a second and then cheerfully tells her, “No, I do not think I’ll help you.”
Baela has half a mind to feed him to Moondancer. “Then you are only here to be a nuisance to me?”
This time he takes a few more steps towards her. Now that he’s closer Baela can see the few moles that blanket his skin like stars across a night sky. As well as his ears brandishing tiny silver hoops, oddly her uncle Laenor wore a fashion similar to this annoying boy.
“You didn’t let me finish my lady.”
“Apologies I thought you understood I didn’t care for your presence aside from helping me find my saddle.”
He laughs. More of a chuckle but she thought it was cute.
“I’m not helping you because I have no intention of assisting my bride in running away before our wedding, even if she thinks I’m a pathetic beast of a man.”
Oh.
Ohhhh.
He takes her hand in his then and raises it to his lips, never once breaking eye contact with her. “It’s nice to finally meet you Lady Baela, I’m Prince Jacaerys Velaryon but of course, you can call me Jace.”
Baela has just asked the Prince of Dragonstone if he was an assistant to dragon keepers, she just told the future king of the Seven Kingdoms he was a nuisance, if this marriage does miraculously work out then she’ll have quite a story to tell their grandchildren.
It seems he enjoys the shock that decorates her face because his lips linger longer on her hand than necessary. There is not an existing word to describe how she feels when he stares at her, only at her. It makes her legs struggle to keep upright as she lets the smoothness of his voice wash over her after being deprived of it for years.
What a charming handsome asshole.
“You do not know much about me and that’s entirely my fault but if we are to start somewhere, let it be with the fact that I don’t drink wine unless it’s for a special occasion. My favorite color is blue, and I once attempted to pick up Dark Sister as a kid and only succeeded in cutting myself. Oh, and I’m very nervous about meeting you for the first time because I’ve never met someone as breathtaking as you sweet sister, so please, forgive me if I make a fool of myself.”
His sudden declaration causes her to stumble over her words, “I—I had no idea Prince Jacaerys, honestly I had no clue! You cannot blame me for it truthfully you’ve stayed away from me for years as you said but I do apologize for mistaking you for an assistant—.”
Jacaerys’s hearty laugh interprets her ramblings and she cannot help but beam at the joyous sound. “What is so funny, my prince?”
“Not my prince,” he corrects her. “But Jace, always just Jace to you.”
Mindlessly Baela’s thumb begins to caress his hand that was still holding hers. “Okay then Jace, what were you laughing about?”
JACAERYS.
Did he win her over?
He’s surprised he didn’t have to resort to groveling on his knees for her, which is something he would’ve done gladly. His sister is someone he would do anything for.
Her hand is a perfect fit in his.
Her eyes are the same color of the lilac flowers he sees outside his window from his chambers.
He cannot wait to marry her. She’s somehow managed to put every tale he’s heard of her to shame with her undeniable wit and bewitching beauty. A million songs sung across the kingdoms will not be enough for her, no jewel will ever be worthy of her, nothing could ever compare to the essence that was Lady Baela Targaryen.
Their two hearts were foraged in fourteen flames by the embers of the Valyrian gods and Jacaerys Velaryon will spend the rest of his life proving himself deserving of being the chosen soul to spend eternity by her side.
“You are more enticing than I imagined, and it is a dream to finally meet my lovely betrothed in person.”
BAELA.
That’s right, they’ve never met. How easy was it to forget she was supposed to be upset with Jace. She’s denied his birthday gifts and flowers and when the moment arrives she is won over with the feeling of their hands intertwined and the effortless way they fall into banter.
She’s longed for this longer than she will ever care to admit out loud and she cannot help that it feels so right to her. To peer into his eyes that she now knows are such a deep brown littered with purple they appear black. To lose herself in his charm he reserves only for his bride. Perhaps her father was right, perhaps she will be thanking him in the foreseeable future.
“We could've met much sooner but that always seemed a prospect you were never happy about.”
Jace’s frown returns.
Baela believes it is best to rip the bandage off.
“I admit, at first it was because I was truly too busy with my studies and responsibilities but as the years progressed I was plagued by doubts. Foolish doubts I see now, but doubts nonetheless, I wondered if you’d be fond of me as Rhaena was of Luke or if you’d be less inclined towards my friendship since I deprived you of a childhood together.”
He grips her hand tighter.
“These are not excuses my lady and I know the fault lies with me and I deeply apologize but please know if I could somehow return to the boy I was, if I could push him on that boat to go see you, I’d do so countless times just to be graced with your acquaintance sooner.”
“We cannot change the past…” Baela starts but ultimately gets distracted by her own thoughts.
Insecurity is something Baela understands well enough. For such a long time she believed there was something wrong with her and if that was the reason Jace was keeping his distance. But now she understands they were just two children too wrapped up in their self-doubts they didn’t think twice about making assumptions about one another.
With newfound understanding Baela finishes her sentence, “Grandmother always says we should hope to change our futures and not dwell on our pasts, and while I’m not completely satisfied there is nothing that is broken beyond repair Jace.”
Jace looks solemnly into her eyes, “I do not expect your forgiveness but please know I will do anything to prove myself to you, if I have to labor away for the rest of my life to provide for you the happiness you deserve than that is a task I’ll greatly take on, my lady.”
When Jace speaks she cannot help the warmth that spreads across her chest. He has quite a penchant for flattery. But deeper than that she resonates with his sincerity, she too was scared of what she was going to find. If she wasn’t, then she would’ve flown to King’s Landing herself and broke down his door just to meet him.
“I suppose we are both guilty of assumptions then.” Baela grabs ahold of his other hand and brings it closer to her. “Let us hope our marriage will be more pleasant than our engagement brother.”
Jace releases her hands to cup her cheeks. He meant every word he said to her. “Our engagement is not yet over, there is something that could still steer us towards the right path.”
Baela’s toes curl with anticipation. “And what is that?”
Jacaerys does not answer, he simply leans down to capture her sweet lips with his own and she eagerly meets him on the tips of her toes. Like a sculptor Jace molds his sister’s figure into him, pushing his tongue into her mouth and pressing her impossibly closer to him. The inside of his mouth is warm and minty to Baela and tastes faintly of honeyed oats.
Kissing is something she’s known she’s liked for awhile.
But kissing Jace was something new entirely.
He was firm in his dominance over her mouth but nipped at her bottom lip so playfully she broke their kiss a few times to giggle against his cheek. But it wasn’t long before a gentle hand guided her back to be ravished by him once more. Jace was gentle in all the ways that mattered and rough in all the ways Baela loved.
Kissing him was knowing what the inside of the sun feels like.
Kissing him was finally knowing what it means to breathe.
They stay there for a while. Sharing breathless kisses and relishing in finally being in each other’s arms, it’s as if a part of them has been missing their entire lives and they didn’t understand how much they needed it—craved it until Jace was practically picking Baela off the ground to kiss her more deeply.
Soon after, with much objections on her end, Jace decides it’s time for them to return but not before Baela kisses a sleeping Moondancer goodbye. She should've expected that she was going to sleep after her gluttonous meal. But that was inconsequential because now Baela was going home, with Jace, with her betrothed, her other half. She could stomach this city until their honeymoon.
Jace also decides that she will ride back on his horse with him instead of returning on her own. When asking who will return her’s to the stables he merely waved her off and said he’ll have it taken care of. It reminded her much of her father.
“I cannot have you trying to run away again sister.”
Baela giggles from her place in front of him. The streets are alive during the hour before dusk and many townspeople greet them with waves. “If I do, will you hunt me down yourself brother?”
Jace presses himself closer to her. She smells like the city but also fresh lemongrass mixed with vanilla, he enjoys it very much. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Perhaps we’ll make a game out of it? What say you?”
He plants a kiss at the base of her neck. “Let us save the games for our wedding night beloved.”
He is already thinking of our wedding night, the thought pleases Baela. “Very well, but do not act surprised when I require you to atone for your mistreatment of me all night long.”
His next reply is right against her ear, “Oh my sweet Valyrian jewel, you should know I plan to repent on my knees thoroughly.”
Before Jace could seductively nibble her ear, Baela grips the reins of the horse and forces them into a gallop across the cobblestone streets of King’s Landing. “The faster we return the faster our honeymoon will begin.” On cue, Jace covers her hands with his own and effortlessly steers her in the right direction.
“Then let’s make sure we return with haste my lady, or your mother might come hunting us down on Vhagar.”