THE LADY - Jacaerys Velaryon

vii. Time

JACAERYS VELARYON DIDN'T want to get married...yet.

He didn't want his whole childhood to be based upon the thought that he needed a wife to stabilise his rank and keep his blood flowing on the land of Westeros. He wanted to build his empire before starting his life.

But yet, the empire he wanted to build had already been built. Jacaerys didn't want to build the empire, he wanted to make it greater. So great that when he does wed, the woman he is married to won't look at another man again. Because he would be King Jacaerys Targaryen, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the first men, protector of the realm.

He couldn't be king if he was to busy being infatuated with a woman.

But he couldn't help it. The moment Daella Tyrell stepped foot into his home, sat beside him at breakfast and danced with him on his uncle's birthday, he couldn't help but fall in love with the auburn curls and ivory skin.

The prince spent hours and days thinking of her. His mind was consumed by thought of the Tyrell girl, he wanted everything to do with her. He never wanted to leave her side.

And so he hasn't.

"Jacaerys I am fully capable of carrying my own things." Giggled Daella as she watched the young prince struggle to carry her stack of books back to the table they've been sat at all day.

"A prince should never let a lady carry her own things." He replied smoothly, feeling a rush of proudness when he watched her cheeks bloom a obvious red.

As she sat, Darla placed her cold palm to her cheek, hoping to stop the rush of blood that made her face grow pinker by the second. With her cheek still cupped in her hand, she looked towards the prince who was now sat opposite her. "Perhaps you should give your uncles a lesson in manner, Jacaerys."

"I cannot complete the impossible, my lady." Jackets smiled, reaching from the top of the pile of books and taking it. High Valyrian. Dear lords. He couldn't for the life of him grasp the language of his ancestors but he desperately tried. Even with he help of his mother, grandfather and uncles, Jacaerys Velaryon couldn't understand High Valyrian.

He glanced across him. Daella sat with her knees up to her chin and a book rested in her right hand, the other making a makeshift cushion between her chin and knees.

She looked peaceful. Jacaerys has seen many looks of Daella. But when she was peaceful it was by far his favourite. Maybe it was the sereneness of the library, the quietness. The crackle of the fire, the slow breaths escaping Daella's mouth or the sound of paper turning. Or maybe it was the girl sat in front of him.

But Jacaerys couldn't focus.

He liked the quiet. The opposite to Luke who loathed it. But he liked it. His thoughts were his own in the quiet, his mind was stable in the quiet. He could focus in the quiet. But when he is normally quiet, it doesn't exactly involve a beautiful high lady sat in front of him without a care in the world.

Jacaerys looked at her again. Her curls were even more disheveled from the last five minutes ago. Her nose was scrunched as she read a line on the page. Her eyebrows knitted together. But yet, her position had not changed, she was still curled up in front of him. Looking even more pre—

"Jacaerys!" A voice cried. Jacaerys' eyes snapped out of their trance and widened as he looked at Daella. How long had she'd been shouting him for?

"I've been shouting for for nearly three minutes...are you alright?" Daella asked, her voice laced in concern. Jaceaerys smiled awkwardly, trying to think of an excuse quickly.

No. No he wasn't okay. He wasn't okay be she wasn't his. She leave Kingslanding in two days, and when she returns home she could be wed to a Tyrell banner man, or a lord in Dorne. And he would be sat here, reminiscing of a childish dream.

"I am fine, my lady." He smiled falsely. Daella quirked a brow at him.

"You don't need to lie to me, Jacaerys. Something troubles you, what's wrong?" Her voice sounded smooth, like the finest silks ever crafted. Her eyebrows—that were previously knitted in concentration—where now crossed in worry. Her palm that her chin was previously rested on was now moving across the table and reaching for his hand, whilst the other settled the book down and reached for his own book, gently moving it away from his face.

"Jacaerys, tell me what is wrong." She squeezed his hand. Once. Twice. Possibly for a third time if Jacaerys hadn't spoken up.

"I-I am struggling with my...High Valyrian." He stuttered, although he was extremely proud of himself for lying in the spot.

Daella chuckled. "Why do you worry about that?" She murmured, looking deeply in his eyes.

"My whole family knows how to speak it, and I do not." Jacaerys declared, biting the inside of his cheek. His family were proud of their ancestry, and were adamant of keeping it pure blooded. And yet, Jacaerys couldn't even master the language they used to speak.

"Luke cant speak High Valyrian." Daella said. She remembered one day when the two were trailing together in the gardens and the brunette boy's uncle—Aegon—had come upon them. And started spekaing in Hugh Valyrian.

Which neither understood.

"Luke is not the future king." The boy frowned. Daella felt her heart break. He was right. Luke was not the future king, he did not have the weight of his entire blood rested on his shoulders, he did not have the weight of the entire kingdom weighing him down.

Luke was born to be a high lord, Jacaerys was born to be a king.

Daella rose from her seat, brushing her pink skirts off before quickly moving to the other side of the table and taking the empty seat beside the broken prince.

"You needn't worry, Jacaerys. There is still time." She robbed his back smoothly and watched as a grateful smile overtook his lips.

Yes. Time. But it is not about having time...it is about making it.

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HEYYYYYYY

ngl don't rlly understand the line but just imagine a really cool deep female audio book voice reading it, and it will sound cool.

ANYWAY HOPE U ENJOYED THE CHAPTER
MORE JACE A DAELLA YAYAYAYAYAYA

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