Live to Love

Chapter 1

Rhaenyra Targaryen had just received the news of her royal father's death. Dark wings had brought dark words. Loyal friends at the capital had alerted her that her brother Aegon had just claimed the crown, with the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard proclaiming him King Aegon, the second of his name. She was anxiously twisting the rings on her fingers when the book was unceremoniously taken out of Jaehaerys' hands. He sighed wearily.

"What do you want, Duncan?" he asked without bothering to look who it was.

His eldest brother grinned. Snow was still melting in his hair into a dirty pool all over Jaehaerys' clean carpets. His indigo eyes shone.

"Come on, little brother. I am going out. Do you care to join me?"

Jaehaerys hesitated. Cold was never good for his frail constitution, yet the preparations for the tourney could not leave even him indifferent. Knights trained day and night. Ladies whispered and prepared their very best gowns, making sure that they had enough ribbons, sleeves, and scarves to give away as favours. Smallfolk also loved tourneys – they made a good piece of vendor's businessq with all the knights and visitors who were coming in a flow. Besides, jousts were always joy to watch. At night, Jaehaerys often stayed awake late, listening to the excitement of the city. He wanted so much to be part of it, yet his birth, his duties, and his bad health separated him from the cheerful mood.

"Yes," he said. "I do."

The surprise on Duncan's face was so plain that it was comical. It was Jaehaerys' turn to grin. "Well?" he said. "Are we leaving? Or did you mean that we would go tomorrow?"

Duncan's surprise faded and he took Jaehaerys by the hand, lest his brother reconsidered.

"But no guards," he elaborated.

Jaehaerys lifted a fair eyebrow. "Of course not," he agreed and they did their best to keep as low profile as possible, just in case someone saw them and their attempted escapade reached their father's ears – or worse yet, their mother's. They would never make it to the gates without a squadron of guards. Maybe even a Kingsguard or three. When they passed by the part of the castle where the most highborn guests were lodged, they called Robar Baratheon, the heir of Storm's End, to join them.

The three young men happily headed down Aegon's Hill. Jaehaerys looked incredibly white and fair-haired between his swarthy dark-haired companions. He pulled his hood down, for this silvery-gold hair of his would give all of them away and they would rather disappear in the crowd. He inhaled the cold air deeply, although he knew he shouldn't. But it felt so refreshing.

"If your father gets to know about this, he'll be angry," Robar whispered.

Jaehaerys smiled. "It doesn't matter," he said. "I don't care about his anger. My lady mother, on the other hand…"

Next to him, Duncan shuddered.

The main streets were full of people. Vendors sold as many goods as they would normally sell for a month. All stores were seething with customers. Jaehaerys checked that his hood was in place once again and waited until his brother and friend went over various shields and spears. For a while, the two of them argued whether round shields were better than rectangular ones or the other way round. Finally, each of them bought his shield of choice, unable to convince the other one that they were in the right.

In a small goldsmith's store, they made the goldsmith show them all his best things. Finally, the two princes chose a necklace of emerald and rubies for their mother, a slim sapphire bracelet for their aunt Daella, and a silver chain for their sister Rhaelle. For a while, Robar stared at a ruby ring but didn't buy it.

"Is it for your lady mother?" Duncan asked and suddenly whispered in a low voice, "If you're short of money, how much should I lend you?"

Robar blushed and failed to answer. Behind his back, Jaehaerys shook his head reproachfully at Duncan, although they were both smiling. They knew that their friend would gladly present their sister with the jewel but he didn't dare…

Duncan bought a slim silver tiara, too, inlaid with nine star-shaped sapphires.

"Who is this for?" Rhaelle asked in the evening. "It's beautiful."

Duncan grinned. "Not for you, sister dearest, if that's what you think. I'll give it to my lady as soon as I crown her Queen of Love and Beauty tomorrow."

Rhaelle looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "Oh? So there is a lady?" she asked. "What a relief. I already imagined how we'd have to tear the laurel in petals to keep all of your ladies pleased…"

From his place near the window, Aemon snickered. Annoyed by being laughed at by an eight-year old, Duncan glared at both him and Rhaelle. None of them was impressed. Aemon kept petting his hound; Rhaelle kept sewing.

"Hey!" Duncan protested. "I am not this bad."

"You are," Rhaelle and Jaehaerys chorused. "Besides," Jaehaerys went on, teasing him,"are you so certain that you'll win? I hear that Robar is making a rapid progress…"

"Well," Duncan said easily, "that's my problem, right? He won't be as easy a rival as you would be should you decide to enter the lists but…"

The silence fell, heavy and uncomfortable. The fact that Jaehaerys would never be able to enter a tournament was a fact that they all knew – and never discussed. Had he not been the King's son, he would have probably never been knighted. His premature birth had left him weaker compared to Duncan and Rhaelle. Each childhood illness had found its way to him, leaving him paler, thinner, more fragile. Even now, when he was grown up, he might start choking at a new scent his mother wore. His arms were so frail – he could never hold even a lighter sword for long. Bets were constantly placed about when he would die. People talked derisively behind his back, thinking him weak and unmanly. But no one had ever said anything to his face – courtiers would not dare and while his siblings had mocked him as children, now they realized that it would be downright cruel of them. Jaehaerys knew the truth better than anyone else. He didn't need it being shoved down his throat.

Duncan's face went white. Rhaelle's head snapped up and her eyes bore into him.

"But I didn't mean…" Duncan stammered. "I only…"

He was dismayed with himself and simply couldn't finish. He silently pushed his chair away and left the chamber without looking back.

"He really didn't want to offend, it was just a joke," Rhaelle said in the sudden silence around them. "He hadn't sprouted such things in five years, at least."

"You think I am stupid and I don't understand?" Jaehaerys asked.

"Seven help me!" she exclaimed. "Why are you so sensitive of everything that has something to do with…"

"Go and bring him back," Jaehaerys cut her off. "Bring him back before he slits his throat at the thought that I might have taken offense. Explain it to him that I am far more thick-skinned than the two of you seem to think."

But it was a lie. Duncan's words reminded him that he was not considered worthy. He would never be, for a man's worth was in being warrior. Only the Seven knew how hard he needed to work to master the very basics of martial art – and he would never be more than mediocre, if that. He could never enter the lists in a tournament, not unless he wanted to be humiliated by having rivals who would lose willingly to ingratiate themselves with him.

He'd rather die.

He'd never be cheered as loudly as Duncan and young Aemon, or even Rhaelle. Instead, he'd always be assessed for any signs of impeding death.

He'd never crown the one he wanted Queen of Love and Beauty…

As he always did, he chased these thoughts away. He would never fall prey to self-pity. But as he grew older, he often lay awake at night, wondering how things might have been if he had been born just two months later.

Aemon was still busying himself with the huge dog. Next to the fireplace, Alaenys Blackfyre returned to her embroidery. She pitied him, of course, but she did not show it and for this, Jaehaerys was grateful.

"Care to try it on?" he asked lightly.

She gave him a look of surprise. Jaehaerys smiled and looked at the tiara. "It would look marvelous on you, I am sure."

She blushed.

What am I doing, Jaehaerys asked himself. It was bad enough to know that Duncan would crown her if he won. The others didn't know but Jaehaerys always took notice of how they looked at each other when they thought no one was watching. Nothing would come out of it, of course. Alaenys was a war prize, for all that she was a beloved companion of theirs. She was a Blackfyre. Duncan would never wed her – and Jaehaerys was sure she knew it. But she was beautiful and Duncan was – well, Duncan. It was only to be expected that she'd fall under his charm should he chose to exercise it. Really, who was Jaehaerys to judge? He could never win any lady's heart and he recognized that this fact made him bitter.

Especially when it came to Alaenys.

"Do you really think he'll crown me?" she asked suddenly, eagerly.

Jaehaerys smiled. "I am sure," he said and wondered whether he wanted it to be true.

As if on cue, the subject of their conversation came back, distraught, shepherded by a very determined Rhaelle. Jaehaerys looked at them and forced another smile. "Come on," he said. "I'll even lay some bets on you tomorrow – but don't tell Robar," he added conspiratorially.

Duncan's face immediately relaxed. He really couldn't bear it when Jaehaerys was angry with him. "You are the best, do you know that?" he said, beaming in relief.

Jaehaerys shook his head. "Of course I know that," he said.

Aemon rose and went to put up the shutters. The bustle of King's Landing was suddenly cut off and Jaehaerys was glad. Rarely before the excitement of the city had given him such a sharp pain.