perzo | inbox for saltburnt;

Of course. Shall I meet you there in an hours time?

I will be there.

Ensure you are not being followed, once you depart.

I trust no one else with this.

( it is not quite an hour later when Jacaerys makes his way to the stables. it is not an odd sight if he is seen, for he has taken to riding when time allows. and there is plenty of allowance. at least there had been, before the walls of the manse no longer felt safe.

dressed in a winter cloak and attire more fitting of their home than the more modern outfits he has dabbled in, he waits for his mother near one of the stalls. it houses a mare he has taken on his ride and as he waits, Jace feeds the chestnut creature a carrot he has brought from the kitchens and hums a soft tune -- a sailor's song, one taught to him by a noble father no longer alive and loved best by a brother lost to the sea.

he stops only when he hears footsteps approach and turns, bows when he sees it is his mother. ) I did not pull you from anything of import, I hope.

[ Rhaenyra is similarly dressed for colder weather now — much less forgiving than even their family seat on Dragonstone often boasts, closer to what Jacaerys likely endured during his visit to Winterfell on her behalf. Snow crunches beneath her boots as she ventures from her and Daemon's rooms to the stables, and while her gaze occasionally darts behind her, verifying that no one has followed her, the path she takes is one that would make it difficult for anyone to stalk her without the snow-covered path giving away their presence.

Of course, Jace is already standing there in wait for her when she enters, stepping across straw-covered floors into a more heated exterior. Here, the horses are well-kept, protected from the cold, blankets draped over their backs, but their breaths are visible at this hour, soft exhales and nickers occasionally emerging from the various stalls. ]

Your message seemed rather imperative. [ And Rhaenyra has often made an effort not to keep her son waiting, even before their arrival here, now that he has grown into someone she trusts significantly more than her own small council. She approaches quietly, reaching out to set a careful hand on Jace's shoulder. ] Are you well?

I am well, mother. I promise. ( As well as he can be with a ring of red around his neck hidden under his collar, the others where his body was cut apart or worked on by the doctors as maesters would a corpse.

he smiles at Rhaenyra nonetheless, a sure smile that does not tremble as it would if he were lying to her.

it takes him a moment to gather himself, to knit his brow together and to find his words. it takes him a moment, one where he glances about the stables as if waiting for someone to pop out. yet it is early still, they are alone with but the horses for company. ) When you told me of Aegon’s Dream, I did not remember Lord Stark’s words to me as we looked over the expanse of the Wall. I put no weight in them.

But having spoken to Lady Sansa, it seems he was speaking truth. When the Great Winter comes it brings the Long Night, the Dead walk into our lands.

[ It is not merely herself that Rhaenyra worries for these days, particularly in the aftermath of the estate's games, which had seen the loss of several lives apart from her own. Even if Jace had been resurrected right alongside her, she knows what she had faced in the days following — the nightmares, the strangeness of being plunged back into a body that doesn't wholly feel like your own anymore, to say nothing of the physical scars that remain after being dissected.

If her son happens to be haunted similarly, he makes no allusion to it now, and she would know if he were hedging his words in an attempt to spare her more concern. ]

The Great Winter comes by her time, then? [ Rhaenyra has spoken with the Lady Sansa infrequently, enough to glean that the younger woman is many generations descended from Cregan Stark, but to have it confirmed that Aegon's prophecy will come to pass, if not in her own lifetime... Her hands have established a clutch on Jace's, squeezing with insistence. ] Are the Seven Kingdoms prepared for it by then, or caught unawares?

( Rhaenyra clutches at his hands and Jacaerys wishes he had words more comforting to share with her. he holds her hands tightly, glances away before he meets her eyes as he does when he is nervous. it hits him suddenly, the gravity of what he is about to share. even if victory is theirs, their great house fails the kingdoms they are sworn to protect. )

A Baratheon sits on the Iron Throne. ( or was it a Lannister? he cannot remember which tale was told to him by Lady Sansa and which by Daenerys. he trusts both, though there seems to be tension between the two. either way, it means Aegon's Dream was lost to the crown.

the grim tone of his first words leaves him when he insists, as if it will soothe the great wound the truth brings. The Conquerer was not wrong, the dream comes to pass and it is their house that keeps it safe. ) Lady Sansa swore the battle was won. The northern houses brought together, fighting with Daenerys Targaryen's dragons at their side. The dead destroyed by fire and dragon glass found only underneath the Dragonmount.

( he swallows, ) Daenerys herself does not yet know what is to come.

A Baratheon? [ That alone would not immediately give Rhaenyra cause for concern; House Baratheon has been an ally for many years, with several descendants of Aegon the Conqueror marrying into their line. But Jace's words also echo what little she has learned from Daenerys as well, that House Targaryen does not sit the Iron Throne, and has not in several generations. A greater question still hangs over her then: who was responsible for overthrowing their house, and when?

It is a smaller concern to take into consideration when her son stands before her, all but confirming that Aegon's dream will come to pass; yet, instead of the Seven Kingdoms standing against the threat, it seems as though only the northern houses take up arms, allied with their descendant, while the Baratheons who hold seat in King's Landing withhold their forces.

Rhaenyra nods quietly, considering everything she's just been informed of. ]

She will not hear of it from me. Better for her not to know of something that has yet to transpire when she is as far removed from her dragons as we are. But this is... [ She exhales quietly, the faintest smile emerging over her features. ] You've done well, Jace. Very well, indeed.

[ It reaffirms, for her, that she must not only continue her efforts in reclaiming what is rightfully hers, but also not lose sight of her true purpose — in ensuring that her descendants are prepared for the war to come. ]

inbox for saltburnt;

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject