Chapter Text
Controversy and rumors had always followed Princess Rhaenyra’s life.
From her father naming her as heir to Westeros, even tho his second wife, Alicent, had gifted him with not one breathing son, but three. Whether or not her maiden hood had been stolen years before her wedding by her uncle or maybe to some Flee Bottom Man that questionable night. To the parentage of her own three sons. Still she remained as the only child in Visery’s heart, and would be their future Queen.
Her hasty marriage to Heir Laenor after the murder of his friend at their own wedding feast, had made some turn up their noses. A Groom covered in blood, weeping for another. Not once sparing a glance or a worried word towards his young bride. Another had saved her that night from the panicked crowd, the Knight never once leaving her side since that rescue. A shame.
Jace was used to the whispers, which over time no longer remained hidden behind hands. Why hide when no punishment ever came? Empty promises from the husk of a King never kept even by his own guards.
How they looked nothing like their blood father & more like their mother’s sword. Births that made a mockery of two mighty houses.
But he ignored the words pointed at himself and his brothers. Mother had said livestock always made a ruckus when the farmer had no need to eat. That one day he will be King, that he will be the one giving false smiles to those who had once turned their backs to them, but now begged for his help. Would he help them or not? The choice was his own.
The only son that was even partially spared was Lucerys. He, unlike his brothers, had the purple eyes of their ancestors. His eyes, the exact shade as their father’s. A pale lavender that almost looked white in the sun, but shined so beautifully under candlelight. His skin also had a darker tint than his siblings. Golden skin always looking as if he had spent the day sleeping under the summer sun, even in the dead of winter. His small, willowy body is a copy of their mother’s from her younger years. The loose curls upon his head, easily matched their Aunt Laene’s wild mane. But the same could be said for Sir Harwin, when he allowed his hair to grow a few extra days.
Jace was thankful that Luke had been blessed with that much at least, unlike himself and baby Joffrey. Dark eyes that held hints of gold. Black, tightly curled hair. And pale skin that covered large, strong looking bodies. Mini versions of Sir Harwin himself. No way to hide such prominent features.
His younger brother was soft hearted to all, even those who did not deserve his kind words or smiles. But those few traits he had received from their ‘Father’ had not stopped all of the tongues in King’s Landing.
“A shame that the only child that takes after him is an Omega.”
“House Velaryon doomed, either to be ruled by a Bastard or a Broodmare.”
“But that's more than an Alpha Swordswallower could ever hope for.”
“I wonder if Strong has made both of them his brides in their own wedding bed. A true Alpha that one.”
“Maybe he had to show Laenor how to take his wife’s cunt that first time, if she was even a maiden that night. A boring Bedding I bet.”
Jacaerys hid behind the pillar in the hall listening as a group of maids had walked past. Their words echoing in his own ears. Mocking his mother, their future queen and the two men who had molded him into the man he would one day become.
He had run to his mother and held her, hiding his tears in her dress all those years ago. Listening to the story she was telling to Luke & Joff. Her soft words washing the pain away from his heart. Promising himself to never tell her the horrible truths & doubts he held in his heart.
Jace wished they could return to those early days. But fate was cruel and the web that had been spun before his birth could be ignored no longer.
War had arrived.