Author note at the end.
Also mild Yuri warning, don’t say I didn’t warn you, let me know your thoughts, if you want to see this or not.
You know that look Stewie from Family Guy gives Brian whenever the dog starts talking about the kid with the upside-down face?
That was exactly how Jace was staring at me right now.
Buddy, your eyes are going to pop out of your skull.
“Very bold of you, Prince Daeron,”Jeyne said as she scoffed with a touch of self-satisfied pride, but there was a hidden chuckle underneath it, as if she found the entire situation mildly hilarious.
“You wish for my hand in marriage? Do you truly believe the Maiden of the Vale would fall for any silver-haired prince with a pretty face?”
I tilted my head and smirked.
“You find me pretty then, my lady?”
She smiled despite herself and shook her head, clearly deciding I was just another foolish young prince trying to court her with flowery nonsense so she wouldn’t throw her lot in with the Blacks.
And she wasn’t wrong.
That was part of the plan.
But it wasn’t the entire plan.
I had cooked this particular scheme up somewhere over the Mountains of the Moon on the flight here.
There was almost no realistic path to bringing the Arryns fully into the Green camp.
Rhaenyra shared blood with the Vale, and if the Arryns abandoned their own kin, however distant, they would lose face inside their own lands.
So neutrality was the real prize.
Keeping them out of the war for as long as possible was already a victory.
“You cannot seriously consider the words of this scheming traitor, Lady Arryn,” Jace cut in, stepping forward.
“This is nothing more than a ploy to usurp your seat as Lady of the Eyrie. The moment the vows are spoken he will kill you and name himself regent of the Vale.”
I chuckled and rolled my eyes at the rather pitiful attempt.
“I would never harm anyone unless provoked, Prince Jacaerys,” I replied mildly.
Then, because I couldn’t resist adding a little spice, I continued, “Unlike what Prince Daemon did with Lady Royce, I have no intention of killing my wife for her lands.”
Yep.
That did the trick.
“How dare you?!” Jace’s face went red.
“You bastard!”
His sword cleared the scabbard in one angry motion and levelled at my chest.
I merely raised both eyebrows and kept my hands folded neatly behind my back.
A heartbeat later a dozen Vale blades were already pointing at his neck.
The Knights of the Vale, it turned out, did not fuck around when it came to guest right.
“How dare you!” Jeyne’s voice cracked as she slammed her hand against the arm of the high seat and rose to her feet.
“How dare you draw steel against a guest in my hall!”
“You are being fooled by this silver-tongued snake!” Jace shouted, sword still aimed at me while I simply stood there, smirking.
“He dares speak such filthy insolence about my mother’s husband! I cannot let those words go unanswered!”
“You stand under my roof!” Jeyne’s voice rose higher, sharp with genuine anger.
“It is for me to decide whether his words are insolence. I am no damsel, Prince Jacaerys. I do not require your protection inside my own home. You have violated guest right by drawing steel, and for that you are no longer welcome in these halls. Sheathe your sword and leave now with your dragon. I will send my answer to your mother by raven, they, at least, seem to understand the meaning of tradition better than you.”
Jace’s chest heaved, his face had gone an impressive shade of red.
He looked from Lady Jeyne to me and back again, fury warring with the sudden realisation that he had just torched his own diplomatic mission.
With a sharp, angry motion he slammed the sword back into its scabbard and stormed out of the High Hall without another word.
I watched him go, mildly impressed by the sheer velocity of the exit.
Wasn’t he supposed to be the diplomatic prodigy of the Blacks?
Why is he this catastrophically easy to rage-bait?
I turned back to her with a long, put-upon sigh and offered a small bow of the head.
“I shall ask forgiveness on behalf of my nephew, my lady,” I said solemnly.
“He simply… does not know better.”
Jeyne regarded me for a long moment, the earlier anger already cooling into something more measured.
“You are not at fault for the lack of decorum shown by your nephew,” she said at last.
“His actions are his own.”
She settled back into the high seat, fingers resting lightly along the carved armrest. This chapter is updated first at g.com.
“As for your… offer,” she continued, a dry edge returning to her voice, “I have no intention of marrying anyone, least of all a Targaryen prince, it appears your house is currently occupied with tearing itself apart. I would prefer the Vale remain clear of that particular fire.”
She gave a small, decisive shake of her head.
“So I must decline.”
I went quiet for a few moments, simply watching her.
Her brows rose slightly.
“Are you disappointed by my dismissal, my prince?”
“No,” I answered without hesitation.
“Whether you choose to marry or not is entirely your own decision. If you decline, then you decline. There is nothing more to be said on the matter.”
She studied me a second longer, as though checking for any lingering calculation behind the words, then gave a short nod.
“Then the matter is settled.”
“It is,” I agreed.
A faint, almost reluctant note of courtesy entered her tone.
“You have travelled a long way, Prince Daeron. You should rest.”
“I would not refuse the offer, my lady.”
Jeyne turned slightly and lifted a hand toward one of the women standing near the wall.
“Guide the prince to the chambers prepared.”
The lady-in-waiting stepped forward at once and offered a polite bow of the head.
I returned a brief nod to Lady Arryn, then followed the woman out of the High Hall.
The heavy doors closed behind us with a low sound.
“The lady has refused many suitors before, my prince,” the woman guiding me said, unprompted, “Do not be disheartened by her dismissal. I am certain there are many young women across the realm who would be delighted to marry you.”
“That is kind of you to say, my lady,” I replied.
“But I am not disheartened. If anything, I find myself rather… awestruck.”
She raised her brows in mild doubt as we began climbing a narrow spiral stairway, the stone steps worn smooth by generations of feet.
“What do you mean?”
“I once heard from a rather rogue uncle of mine,” I said lightly, “that the women of the Vale are so plain the men would rather fuck their sheep for company.”
She scowled at the crude old jape, exactly as expected.
“But today,” I continued, “I saw the fairest maiden I have yet laid eyes upon. Clearly my uncle lacks proper vision. I found her a beauty beyond easy words, a bird made of moonlight, a blade wrapped in honour.”
A quiet chuckle escaped her despite herself.
“You speak as though you are already half-mad for her,” she observed.
“I am merely stating what I observed, my lady.” I offered a small smile.
“And if I have observed such beauty, it seems only right that my words should reflect it.”
She reached a heavy wooden door, pushed it open, and stepped aside.
The chamber beyond was simple but well-appointed, dominated by a wide window left open to the night.
Moonlight spilled across the floor.
The mountain wind stirred the long curtains in rhythmic waves.
I walked in and crossed to the window, taking in the view.
“It is marvelous,” I said quietly.
“The Vale holds many wonders, my prince,” she replied, remaining a step behind me.
“I agree.”
A brief silence stretched between us before she spoke again, more carefully this time.
“Did it not bother you that she is your elder? Seven-and-twenty she is, while you are…”
She trailed off, waiting.
“Six-and-ten,” I supplied.
“A decade older,” she said.
“Yet you still name her the fairest. Have you truly seen no young woman closer to your own age who could compare?”
I chuckled and shook my head.
“Wine often tastes better with time, my lady. My own father was a decade senior to my mother, and their marriage, for all its other faults, held a certain understanding that many younger matches lack. I do not believe the trouble lies in age, or even in how a person looks. It is the understanding between two people that makes a marriage bearable… or even good.”
She stared at me for a moment, as though the answer had caught her off guard.
Only when she realized I was looking back did she blink and glance away.
“Wise words,” she said, a small chuckle softening them.
“I have my moments.” This chapter was taken from g.com without permission.
She drew a quiet breath, glanced once around the chamber as if satisfying herself that everything was in order, then gave a short, decisive nod.
“It seems I have troubled you enough for one evening, my prince.” She offered a polite bow of the head.
“I shall take my leave.”
I returned the nod, then spoke before she could fully turn.
“Forgive me, my lady, I never asked your name.”
She paused in the doorway and looked back, a faint smile touching her mouth.
“Jessamyn,” she said.
“Jessamyn Redfort, my prince.”
The door to the Lady’s chambers opened with barely a sound and she stepped inside as quietly as a cat.
Jeyne did not need to look to know who it was.
“Leave us,” she said.
The maid who had been loosening the ties of her bodice gave an obedient nod and slipped out at once, closing the door carefully behind them.
Only when the latch clicked did Jessamyn approach.
Jeyne’s frock hung low, the loosened threads at her back exposing the pale line of her shoulders and the curve of her spine.
She sat facing the open window, moonlight silvering the edge of her profile, while the mountain wind stirred her hair in slow waves.
Jessamyn’s hands settled gently against her bare back, her fingers trailed lightly over warm skin.
“Is he another of those pompous brats?” Jeyne asked quietly.
“The ones who play coy to your face and curse you the moment the door closes?”
Jessamyn’s mouth curved as she pressed her cheek against the side of Jeyne’s neck, breathing her in.
“He speaks of you in poetry,” she murmured, lips brushing the curve of a shoulder.
“As he should.”
“You think he was genuine in his offer?” Jeyne tilted her head slightly, giving her more space.
“I believe he was.” Jessamyn placed a slow kiss against the side of her neck.
“Or he is far better at deception than we thought.”
Jeyne looked down carefully and Jessamyn stilled, then lifted her head so their eyes could meet.
“Either way,” Jeyne said, voice firming, “The matter is dealt with, he is a boy prince and I do not intend to speak of this any further.”
Jessamyn smiled unyielding, her hands rose to cup Jeyne’s face, thumbs brushing the line of her cheekbones.
“I may disagree,” she answered, matching that firmness with her own.
“You need an heir, Jeyne. Something we cannot give each other. And that boy will be a man soon enough.”
“Enough of this.” Jeyne shook her head and stood abruptly, the frock slipping further down one shoulder.
“I do not wish to speak of it again, I will not bear a child simply for the sake of bearing one. When the time comes I will name a cousin, someone I deem worthy.”
Jessamyn rose with her, closing the small distance until their bodies nearly touched.
“A thousand years,” she said quietly.
“Your blood has ruled the Eyrie and guided the Vale and now you would hand it to a cousin? Why, Jeyne? Would a child of your own body not be worthy enough?”
Jeyne closed her eyes as she turned, resting one hand lightly against Jessamyn’s chest as if to keep a fraction of space between them.
“But that child would not be yours,” she said, the words edged with sadness.
Jessamyn’s expression softened as a knowing smile touched her lips.
“Oh, my dear.” She pulled Jeyne closer.
“Have you forgotten the promises we made? Everything that is mine is yours. Everything that is yours is mine.”
She leaned in until their foreheads nearly touched.
“Do not think on it too heavily tonight,” she whispered.
“We have time yet to speak of such things.”
Her hands moved with slow certainty, easing the frock from Jeyne’s shoulders.
The fabric whispered down her arms and Jessamyn’s mouth found hers a moment later.
A/N: And that’s done.
I have given images of both Jeyne and Jessamyn.
Probably here for better imagination.
Also, guys seriously let me know your thoughts, I kinda want to steer the direction of romance somewhere and I can’t do that unless you give me your ideas, I really don’t want to lose my reader base.
So yeah let me know.
I am currently writing a Dick Grayson, Plot with Pórn kinda crack fic, it is not uploaded anywhere yet, so let me know if you want to read it.