authorsnote: look, I get it, y'all mad jon 'made the wrong choice', thats the point, TRUST THE PROCESS. and enjoy, if you hate it that much you don't have to read I promise

constructive criticism is always welcome, hate is not ty.

but as always thank you for all your wonderful reviews! truly the love, and even just the like, even the occassional 'hey this was okay!' truly encourages me to write. I hope you enjoy this chapter 3

songrecs: Things I Do For Love - GOT Season 1

'No man is free, only children and fools think elsewise'

- Tywin Lannister to his son Tyrion

-x-

Jon didn't trust himself to confront Otto as the Small Council meeting ended. It had stumbled at the start, but the King had quickly congratulated Jon, asked Otto to remain behind after too much discussion about the wedding (which Jon had barely taken in), and Jon had strode off, not trusting himself to not await for Otto in the shadows to beat him to a bloody pulp.

It was a lovely image, but one that certainly had consequences.

Instead, he moved on, ignoring two voices he heard summoning him back, his blood was up, as was his temper, and so he went to the training yard with a vague plan to thump something, but it was busy, and Jon more than anything craved to be alone.

He walked through the corridors quickly, ignoring bowed heads, two people trying to catch his attention, and a guard trying to keep up with him. He didn't even know where he was walking or going or what he was planning, until he arrived outside the Red Keep.

From there, his feet took him to one place of solace.

On dragonback, he could be alone.

On dragonback, he didn't even bother to ask the handlers anything, instead he hurried into the caves that housed the dragons, and something in him took him to Vermithor, his dragon, sleeping, but eyes alert and open as Jon stepped into his cave, never at risk of danger from him.

Ten minutes later he was in the air and his head was clearing.

There was a unique calm that washed over him on the back of his dragon, even the adrenaline of quickly flying into the air didn't stop the calm that settled over his mind. Vermithor was happy to drift, flying them gently over Kings Landing, over Blackwater Bay, allowing Jon quiet, and space to think.

It was odd, to be so connected to his dragon in such a short time, to know Vermithor wouldn't let him fall, wouldn't hurt or turn and roast him. He was at ease, happy to accept Jon, had accepted a pet on the snout as they'd met and then lowered his wing. A few commands in High Valyrian (which somehow Jon seemed to be fluent in, he didn't even want to try and unpick that headache), was all that was needed to see them surging over the clouds, into the air and the quiet to think.

To think on what he'd done.

To think he'd pledged to marry Alicent, to save her from the miserable fate of being a bride to a man old enough to be her Father, to save her from the misery of her best friends hatred, of being Queen long before she should, of a depression and sadness that would twist and warp her into bitterness and hatred.

But in truth, he knew as Vermithor banked over the cliffs without him even needing to nudge him, he knew he'd stepped in and saved Alicent because of an innate need in him to save the innocent. As perfect tears had dribbled down her cheeks, she'd looked close to breaking and he had to do something.

And now he was to marry her.

Two lives he'd lived now, and never married.

Ygritte was the closest thing he'd ever had, and he thought of her with sadness as the wind whipped through his hair. He thought of her smile, her laugh, her bravery, her fierceness. They hadn't been married, the freefolk had barely believed in it, but they had been connected, in love, and he grimaced as he remembered how that had turned out.

Alicent now, not the Alicent of the history books was nothing like Ygritte. She was meeker, but still had a smile and could speak up. She was a proper Lady, which Jon had never really dealt with before, she was best friends with his equivalency of Arya, oh gods she was Sansa.

Jon tried not to let that association stick in his head, thinking of his loving but snooty sister, red haired too, and yet Alicent had given him a smile, a kindness, and he remembered her sobbing in his arms, scared what he'd think of her because of her Fathers actions.

At least this way he could get her out from her Fathers wing.

His mind was a mess, jumping all over the place as Vermithor swooped low, and then back up and Jon just held on. He didn't fly with a destination in mind and his dragon seemed to recognize that, doing circles, back and forth, just flying for the sake of it, stretching his wings as Jon tried to get away from it all.

He thought of Alicent, of how she'd likely be a good wife, but would he be a good husband? He knew this match wasn't about happiness, none were in Westeros, but he worried about her becoming bitter at him, at his constant comparisons to a life she didn't and couldn't know of, of the weight he felt on his shoulders, a pressure so harsh he was surprised he didn't crack.

Would he be King again? To call the shots, Alicent by his side as Queen? Would she fall to what the history books had made her again? Or could he do better by her. Again he thought of her in his arms, clinging to him, and tried to vow to.

There was more to do, people to talk to, Otto to confront for his underhandedness, his brothers, both of them, Daemon to ensure he wasn't getting any ideas of revolt, Viserys to discuss the next steps, Rhaenyra to soothe and make sure no rejection stung for his reasoning was purely as to how he already saw her as a sister, Arya come again, nothing else, and then what came next? The stepstones, marriage, in what order?

Much to do, and yet for a little while longer, Jon just patted Vermithor on the side, and continued low and lazy swoops over the Capitol, missing the North more and more, an ache in his heart for it, for the family he'd left behind, and for a moment Ygritte, who he'd never forget, and hoped couldn't see from whatever heaven she'd ended up in, him now. Would she laugh? Probably at him marrying a proper Southern Lady.

'You could never resist being a fancy hero' She'd likely mock, and she was right.

And where had being a hero ever gotten him? Dead and displaced to a different time, he thought with trepidation as he dove on Vermithor' down to the dragon pit, and back to responsibility.

That night, he went to her rooms.

He saw no real risk in it now, what would Otto do? Marry them sooner? They were to be wed, and Jon intended to act like a gentleman, he just knew they needed to talk, he had chosen for her after all, and he hated that, her lack of choice in all of this, he knew he'd made the right one, her smile before she'd left the Small Council meeting, he knew he was the better she could hope for, a catch by all accounts here, a Prince and not old enough to be her Father, but he still wanted to talk to her.

To see if she was okay, as she had checked on him, motivated by her Father yes, but he'd seen the truth in her eyes.

The truth that had led him to this, and all the trouble he feared it would cause.

He approached her door, something like nerves in his belly, facing down men on the battlefield seemed easier than this, and he almost preferred another round with an Other, but he lifted his hand, knocked and waited, bravery meant being brave at all times after all.

Even as Alicent Hightower, his soon to be Bride and Princess, answered the door in her nightdress, hair unbound and loose, curly around her shoulders, green eyes widening as she saw him stood there in his red and black.

They'd soon be her colours too.

"J-Jon" She stumbled, and then a quick curtsey, he managed a small smile at that. "What are you doing here?"

"Can I come in?" He asked, and he saw something flicker over her face; worry? "I think we should talk" But then she nodded, she clearly trusted him, which he was glad for, and no doubt had the same line of thinking as him; they were betrothed now after all.

"I think you can stop with the curtseying" He said as he stepped inside to her rooms. They were clearly well lived in, as daughter of the Hand she'd likely lived in Kings Landing for a while. It was clean but he saw her things on the nightstand and dresser, wardrobe open and full of gowns in green, red, blue, books on the table near the low crackling fire.

Her room, and he realized as he looked around and then back to Alicent (who was pink cheeked and blushing, which he tried to ignore), soon her room would be his, or rather the other way around.

And it hit him fully then that they'd be married and all of that entailed.

And as he turned back to Alicent, he could see it occurred to her as well, her eyes widened, cheeks pinker, and he saw her hands tremor and she clasped them together.

"I-" Jon began, wanting, needing to talk, if anything to get the images filtering through his head; Alicent in a wedding dress, Alicent on his arm, Alicent in his arms, Alicent by his side, forever, in his bed, next to him at the high table, sitting opposite him as she read and he worked, perhaps holding around his waist as they flew Vermithor.

Married.

He coughed, cleared his throat, needing to speak, "I hope you're okay with the decision I made" He said, "I need to take a bride, and … and I" He paused, he'd planned no real story for this, and so he went with honesty, "I didn't want you to have to marry my brother, he's too old for you, and – it wasn't fair on you"

Alicents eyes seemed to shine with something then, and she nodded, stepped forward, Jon didn't step back but quickly spoke again.

"I-I don't know if I'll be any good at this" He said, too much honesty now, but he could see Alicent valued it, her hands no longer trembling, though he was sure the shine in her eyes might be tears which terrified him, he had little experience or talent for consoling crying women, "But I will do right by you, you will never have to worry about me straying, and I will never ever hurt you" That was the truth, and Jon said with conviction, she did not know him fully, but she should know that at least.

Another step forward, and she threw her arms around his neck, Jon was surprised, but as she clung to him, he wound his arms around her, and in a mirror of how they'd gotten into this mess, he pulled her closer.

"Thank you" She said, the desperation in her voice, the gratitude near made Jon feel sick; she was thanking him for making a decision for her? And yet, he knew why, he just hated she'd been put in such a position, "Thank you, thank you, thank you"

"You don't need to thank me" He said gruffly, as she buried her face into his neck, and he held onto her, knowing she needed it, knowing she was scared, knowing he was too.

She did pull back though, eyes shining, not quite a smile on her face, but clear plain relief, "I will be a good wife to you I swear" She said quickly, as though she'd practiced it, he thought she probably had, he glanced over her shoulder at the mirror near the window, had she practiced it there? His heart panged for her.

"I will be a good wife, I will give you children, and listen to your worries, and … and" She stumbled then, and Jon took her hands in his then, she clutched his so hard he was sure they must hurt, but clutch she did, "I will be a good wife I swear it by the Old Gods and New" She sounded fierce then, fierce in her belief, "I will"

"I know" Jon said, reaching one hand up to cup her face, needing to offer some, or any comfort he could, as tears trickled gently down her cheeks, he hoped in the future she'd have no cause to cry, especially not for him.

"But you don't need to worry about that" He said gently, trying for kindness, for comfort. Again, he thought of Sansa (as much as the thought unnerved him), holding her hand when she was nervous, when she was scared, offering her a kiss to the forehead, and a hug.

He stepped forward and did the same here, and he knew he was right as Alicent leaned into the kiss, his lips brushing across her hairline, before pulling her into his arms this time, close, and tucked in, she was to be his wife, her wellbeing was his responsibility now wasn't it?

He didn't know if he could make her happy, but he could keep her safe. That he vowed.

"I will protect you I promise" He said, not just from enemies, or threats, but from her Father, from herself, as he'd seen the blood on her nails, and vowed she would not feel the need to do so again, "I swear it, by all Gods"

And then she wept, mumbling more "thank you's", and clung to him, and he did not let go, he couldn't.

He hoped his third Small Council meeting within a week and a half surely couldn't be as disastrous as the first two.

He arrived, dressed in black, when he'd woken that morning he'd felt almost as unnerved as he had the first morning he'd woken up here. How had things changed so quickly? Both from his old life to this, to the first day to now?

'Love is the death of duty'

He had taken a moment that morning to stand on his balcony, look up at the sky, though even as a Northerner, he believed any Gods would live in the earth, the roots, the trees, was it the Old Gods that had brought him here? Or the Red God? Should he be looking at the flames? Either way, some air helped, as he thought of the Gods, of bringing him back here, for a reason.

Was he failing them?

Failing them by choosing to save an innocent, just one, a girl, with hair kissed by fire, a sad smile, saving her from a horrid fate, and potentially messing up the Gods hopes for him; to avoid the dance of dragons.

Of course he didn't know if that was what they wanted, but it was what he was assuming, to fight a war against the Others, dragons would tip the scales hugely in the favor of the living, they needed more dragons, and the dance had depleted them, hence stopping the dance had to be his priority.

It had been – it was, but did marrying Alicent fly in the face of that? He was the Heir now, what was his next move? Who could challenge? He'd stand aside for any son of Viserys, and so what about Rhaenyra or Daemon? Was that where the schism could lie?

He thought of Rhaenyra, sweet innocent Rhaenyra, would she vie for the Throne when she'd never been promised to it? And what of Daemon? Bitter at being passed over, would he make a claim for Rhaenyra to make a claim for the Throne? Would this action have consequences beyond which he could see?

He knew the answer was yes.

He knew, deep down, he should have married Rhaenyra, cut off any chance of her leading a rebellion or marrying Daemon and having him lead it. He should have married her, hoped his half Stark line kept any madness via incest at bay, and inherited the Throne with her at his side.

Did he want the Throne? A part of him; yes, if not only to be able to direct the war against the Others, potentially even march on them, to oversee the realm sounded stressful but he could be good at him, he would be just, he'd never be a Mad King.

And in truth part of him thrummed, to rule, the Iron Throne calling to him just as his dragon had.

He should have married Rhaenyra, but then his mind went to Alicent again, chewed nails, scared, eyes cast down, tears on her cheeks, and he knew even if he went back he wouldn't act differently.

'Duty is the death of love'

It was both.

And so he'd ruminated that morning before being called to the meeting, bathed, dressed like a Crow, needing to feel familiar and now stood to his feet as Viserys walked in and they all deposited their marble ornaments, indicating the start of the meeting.

Daemon was absent, Rhaenyra served wine but didn't smile, Otto seemed to be trying not to look too smug, and his brother seemed void of it all as he spoke of economic matters for a time, and Jon tried to hope the entire meeting would be just as dull.

Until-

"We need to think of the Princes wedding, your Grace" Of course it was Otto, and Jon tried not to glare too harshly at his soon to be goodfather, he just hoped Alicent knew if he were ever to be King, he'd be swiftly and surely finding a new Hand.

Though, from a pragmatic perspective Jon knew Otto was a good hand and would be when self serving his own interests to see Jon and Alicents children on the Throne, but Jon wasn't sure they could work together, whether Jon would gut him at some point out of anger.

"The wedding is not a priority" Jon cut in, but Viserys spoke next.

"No Otto is right" And Jon resisted the urge for an eye roll or a worse glare, or both combined.

"If you are to take the Stepstones in my name and see peace, as you planned and insisted on leading, you should be married before you go" Viserys said.

"She is too young" Jon cut in again, even though he knew that wasn't true, he wasn't sure why he was delaying, wasn't the decision made? He thought of Alicent the night before, clutching his hands so hard he was worried her own would break, no, he wouldn't abandon her now, he could never do her that shame, and so why delay?

'Thank you Jon' She'd managed as he'd had to leave, and she'd clung to him, before stepping back, the proper Lady again, 'I owe you my entire life'

"She is flowered I assure you" Otto spoke and a barely audible growl left Jons lips, barely, but audible.

"The wedding will take place shortly, to show the realm stability, we will proclaim Jon as Heir at the wedding and then you can take the Stepstones" Viserys declared, and as much as Jon wanted to protest to argue, he knew there was no point, why delay? What use was there?

For his heart to catch up with his decision? Wasn't it already there in a sense, in saving the beautiful damsel? If love was what he was hoping for, he wasn't sure that would ever happen, why wait?

He knew Alicent was old enough to wed, only a few years younger than him, and so why wait?

There were none in truth, none at all, this was the decision he'd made, the die had been cast. He glanced at Rhaenyra who didn't meet his gaze and sighed. This was the choice he'd made, his goddamn bleeding heart having to save Alicent, sweet Alicent who deserved so much better, who he could do better by, fool as he was.

What was that tale Sansa had so loved? He remembered her reading it out loud, dreaming of her handsome Knight, and remembered a line.

'All men are fools, and all men are knights, where women are concerned'

Fool he was, he'd let his need to save Alicent, worry and fear for her, to overrule his duty, for once in his life, he'd chosen away from duty, he hadn't with Ygritte, so why for Alicent?

'Your bleeding heart' Ygritte would have mocked, 'Can't resist being the hero'

Was that it? He thought of Alicent.

'Thank you for saving me' She'd finished on as he'd gone to leave, and then a brush of nervous lips to his cheeks, and she'd fled back inside to her room.

Perhaps so.

He nodded begrudgingly, back in the moment, back to accepting a wedding far swifter than he'd hoped, and he was sure he felt the tension in the room sag, they'd expected him to be difficult, he almost wished he had been.

"I must leave for the stepstones soon" He said, "They cannot be left unintended" There was something truly useful, something to help the realm, to secure Westeros against its enemies, when they had so many to fight.

A war on so many fronts, some no one in this room knew of, Jon felt then for a moment exceedingly lonely, he was reminded of his time as Lord Commander, of making decisions alone, decisions that saw him stabbed by his brothers, command was lonely, he wondered how he'd feel as King.

And yet still, as he glanced at his brother, he knew he'd take it, take it to ensure Westeros was safe, to ensure his family, now and of the future were safe. And that something else in him thrummed.

"I agree" Otto said, seeming more cheerful, Jon thought with venom and a glare that said as much, "We can with quick work have you married within the week"

Jon knew if he'd been drinking wine he'd have spluttered, he didn't like having his future, his marriage, and thought of Alicent, grabbing at him, apologizing, thanking him again-

'I will be a good wife to you, I will give you children'

'I owe you my entire life'

And curled his hand into a fist. Yes, at least he was getting her away from her meddling Father, and so he nodded.

"Fine" He said again, for why delay? He knew the stepstones needed to be taken, he needed to be declared as Heir, he'd botched who he'd chosen to marry, and had a million other fronts to fight on, time to get to work on it, not be annoyed that he was being forced into a corner, as much as it did annoy him.

For now he couldn't come out swinging.

"Have Alicent decide what she wants" He said, for he had no interest or care in how he got married, if it were up to him his vows would be in front of a Heart Tree, just as they should have been, with the Old Gods having no eyes in the South. But he was a Targaryen, the Red God, or Gods of Valyria, or even the fucking Seven would have to do.

"Have her decide what she wants to do, give me a time and place and I will be there" He said, and then, feeling that same annoyance, that same itch at the back of his neck, he stood to his feet, "I need to plan the stepstones assault"

After sometime on dragonback he knew, justifying that he would be flying and fighting on Vermithor's back, and needed the calm now.

'Thank you for saving me'

Berries seemed to linger in the air again, and that at least offered him some calm.

poor heroic jon

he did not choose to marry alicent because it was 'the right choice' he did it because it was the only choice for jon in that situation

also, yes my jon here is ambitious, he is asoiaf jon, not season 8 idunwantit jon, miss me with that

do follow/fav, review as always love