Ambers || Jacaerys Velaryon

5. Miara

"Which House has a green banner with a golden rose?" a greying maester inquires.

He stands across from the princes, their daily lessons commencing in their shared chambers. Miara watches them from her usual corner, under Rhaenyra's orders to wait on her sons for the day. She didn't mind it, enjoying her time with the dark-haired boys even if they were preoccupied with more important endeavors.

Miara watches as Lucerys, beside his older brother, eagerly responds, "Tyrells."

The two boys sit at a round table, the maester leisurely pacing in circles around them, his eyes occasionally drifting to the leather-bound books they were scribbling in. His gaze lingers longer on Jacaerys' more often than anything, as he seems more focused on dragging his quill across the parchment than answering questions.

Miara has noticed this behavior before in him. Jacaerys often keeps his hands busy, whether by sketching in a book, wringing his fingers against the hem of his tunic, or tapping them against his thighs. After weeks of observation, Miara has understood that these actions are Jacaerys' way of coping with stress, a silent relief that words cannot provide to distract him.

The maester, undeterred, continues his lesson. "And their House words, Prince Jacaerys?" he asks pointedly.

Jacaerys glances up, his expression unreadable.

"Growing Strong," he answers stiffly.

The maester presses on. "And which House's banner holds a golden lion?"

Lucerys goes to answer but the maester holds a finger up, shushing him. This question was meant purely for Jacaerys-- meant to test him.

"Lannisters."

"House wo-"

"Hear Me Roar."

Though Jacaerys' responses are terse, the maester seems satisfied, understanding as Miara does that the prince's attitude is not one of annoyance but of boredom. Jacaerys has already learned these lessons, and his mind is elsewhere, longing for activities more engaging than reciting heraldry. While Jacaerys' privilege allows him to be disinterested, Miara tries not to hold it against him, reminding herself that Jacaerys is inherently kind, even if unaware of his advantages. Not all the children of the realm are given the same education as him. 

The maester resumes his laps around the table, his long sleeves concealing his hands as he crosses his arms, the chains dripping from his neck made up of different metals clinking with every slow step. 

"Studying is paramount for an heir to the Iron Throne, my prince. It may not always seem exciting, but you will be grateful for these teachings when you take your mother's place," the maester advises.

Jacaerys, guilt flashing across his face, places his quill down.

"My apologies, maester," he mutters.

The maester smiles, easily forgiving, likely favoring the prince's inherent kindness as much as Miara does.

The lesson continues, and both princes now participate more actively. Miara's attention remains on Jacaerys throughout, noticing how his fingers twitch impatiently in his lap, longing for something to do. Without his usual outlet of sketching, his stress becomes more apparent, and Miara feels a pang of sympathy.

She begins to think of ways to lift his spirits. She's grown fond of his cheeky, freckled smiles and wants to ensure they don't disappear. Sneaking off to the kitchens to fetch his favorite berries crosses her mind, but Miara dismisses the idea, not wanting to risk the maester reporting her absence to Rhaenyra.