king for a day ━━━━ jacaerys velaryon fanfic

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- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR ❜┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌
PRAY FOR ME
❛ just in case my faith go
i'll by my own ❜

The Pact of Ice and Fire, an alliance that forever changed the trajectory of the war. Cregan Stark, Lord of Winterfell, and Jacaerys Velaryon, Prince of Dragonstone, arranged an agreement.

The Stark and Targaryen households would unite under the marriage of Jacaerys and Eudora Stark, even if it was short lived.

THE STARKS.

Cregan had a feast ready for his cousin's arrival, and Winterfell celebrated. "Here!" called Cregan in the dining hall, the room filled with laughs and voices– soon dying down as they saw the Winter Wolf stand. "Tomorrow will be another day, just like the rest. But today, we celebrate, for the Lady Eudora Stark has arrived home!"

The people cheered, their cups raised to the air. Cregan sat back down with a wide smile, looking to his left to see Eudora grinning ear to ear, Jace right beside her. Margaret Kastark sat beside Jace, astonished to see the boy her daughter had spoken about. "A wreath, for the Lady Eudora," a young girl says, walking up to the table and bowing towards the red-headed Stark. She smiled, receiving the wreath of roses in her hands. Eudora began to study it, the leaves woven together, the roses which only bloom in the North. It was astonishing, but immediately she winced at the small pinching feeling. Looking at her finger, Eudora noticed she was pricked.

"Must've forgotten a thorn or two," she mumbled to herself, shaking the thought off. The girl then turned to Cregan, who was joyously laughing beside her. "How is my father?" Eudora asked Cregan, taking a bite out of her food. "And my brothers?"

Cregan could only spare her a look. "Margaret?"

"Hm?"

"Could you bring her to them?"

"Of course, Cregan," Margaret answered, taking a sip of her wine before getting up from her seat, Eudora following suit. The two red headed ladies then walked out of the dining hall, not to be seen till a bit later that night. Jace watched as she left, a strange feeling sank into him. But it didn't matter for Cregan then started a conversation with him.

"Are you enjoying supper?" The Lord of the North asked, Jace letting out a light laugh with a nod.

The prince was as amused at the scene in front of him as a child on their birthday, Dragonstone wasn't always as festive as the North is right now– and the prince hadn't been around this much rowdy and happy people in a while. "Is it always like this here?" Jace asked, Cregan only shrugging.

"Sometimes," he answered, his mouth stuffed with food. "Sometimes it's even louder." This earned a nod by the Velaryon, who twirled the fork in his hand. "Can't believe the boy my cousin decided to marry is sitting right here."

The Velaryon could only raise his eyebrow. "Pardon my words, but Otto Hightower said Eudora was to wed Aemond Targaryen."

The Stark raised his eyebrow. "Aemond Targaryen?" Jace nodded his head slowly. "How did that come to be?"

"We were told that you've given your blessing to–"

"To wed my own cousin to Aemond?" Cregan questioned. "Tell me, Jacaerys, what do you need from us here in the North?"

—

"Have you been doing well?" Margaret asked, guiding her daughter to the dungeons. The halls were dimly lit, the only guiding light is the lantern in which the lady held in her hand. "I was waiting for when you would write next."

Eudora shrugged. "It's a long story."

"Well the long story can wait," her mother laughed, stopping in front of a cell. "Bennard?"

A figure emerged from the shadows, and the Stark's eyes softened at the sight of her father. "Eudora?"

"Father."

"We haven't seen you in ages," Bennard told her, stepping closer towards the bars. "How've you been? I've heard stories about your ventures in King's Landing."

"I've been... alright," Eudora bit down on her cheek, thinking of what she could say. "I was to be wed to Aemond–"

"Aemond Targaryen is a good match," Bennard said, Eudora only furrowing her eyebrows at him. "Are you to be wed soon?"

"Years I haven't shown up, and the most you're concerned about is if I am to be wed? Am I just your political sacrifice?" Her father didn't speak, he did not answer. "Will I ever be less than what you see of me compared to my brothers?" Bennard could only look away, not meeting his daughter's eyes. At that very moment, the Stark felt betrayed. "Mother–"

"When you were declared heir to Winterfell," Bennard finally spoke. "I wondered why you, of all my children, would be chosen to ward the North. You, my weakest child, you're not even fit to rule. But maybe, in time, I'll come to understand why Cregan chose you–"

Eudora didn't even allow him to finish his words, walking away from her father. "Eudora," her mother said, but she just kept walking ahead. "I hope you were listening to your own words," Margaret sighed to her husband, then following her daughter. She couldn't blame Eudora, after all her husband was talking to the Lady of Winterfell. The young Stark clutched her dress, her mother resting a hand on her shoulder. "I believe you're more than capable of handling Winterfell."

"Do you believe so or are you just trying to make me feel better?"

"I know so."

Something did change that night, however. Something changed within the young girl. Maybe she was as weak as her father said she was, but she knew that his judgment was wrong— and she'll prove it. The history books would only write of his failed regency, and she'll be part of the bigger story.

—

"Hm, that is really interesting," Cregan told Jacaerys, the night slowly coming to an end. The guests started to leave a few minutes ago, and yet the two remained in their seats. "We Starks never forget an oath, of course I would never wish to back down from my father's words."

"And as for the Aemond situation—"

Cregan shook his head. "I never sent a raven to Alicent Hightower, not to Otto Hightower." Jace nodded at the older Stark's words. It was much of a relief to the Velaryon, knowing that Cregan wouldn't do such a thing. "I'll tell you what, come meet me in the morrow. We have much to discuss about everything."

((🐉))