The Fires We Endure

by Propagate

Jaehaerys Targaryen survives the attempt on his life. Surrounded by madness, treachery and delusion, how does the second son of the Mad King carve out a safe path for himself and the ones he loves.

"I suppose heartbreak makes for strange company," Elia said softly, her voice barely carrying over the breeze. She glanced sideways at Jaehaerys, her dark eyes searching his face. "You seem as far away as the stars tonight, my prince."

Jaehaerys's jaw tightened, his gaze unwavering from the darkness beyond. "And you seem closer to breaking than I've ever seen you, my lady," he replied, his voice low and sharp, though not unkind.

"You look like you're about to shatter that stone railing," Elia said softly, her voice breaking the heavy silence between them. There was no jest in her tone, only a quiet solidarity.

Jaehaerys turned his head slightly, his white hair framing his pale, angular face. "And you look as though you've been forced to swallow poison," he replied, his voice low and raw, the edge of bitterness undeniable.

Elia gave a soft, humorless laugh. "Perhaps I have. Only, mine was served in a chalice of blue roses." She paused, her eyes searching his face. "And yours? What wound has drawn such blood tonight?"

Jaehaerys hesitated, his jaw tightening. "Does it matter?" He turned his gaze back to the horizon. "She was never mine to lose."

Elia's eyes softened as she studied him. She knew he referred to Ashara Dayne. The way his voice caught on the words, the way his shoulders sagged under the weight of his sorrow—it mirrored her own pain. "And yet it feels like a theft," she murmured, her voice carrying the weight of her understanding. "To see them, so radiant in other's company."

Jaehaerys's lips pressed into a thin line, but he did not reply. Instead, he closed his eyes briefly, as if trying to steady himself. Elia placed a hand gently on his arm, her touch light yet grounding. "You should tell her," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"And you should tell him," Jaehaerys countered, his eyes meeting hers for the first time that evening. His gaze was unwavering, though pain flickered behind it. "But we both know words will fall on deaf ears."

Elia tilted her head, her expression rueful. "Perhaps. But we were not made to suffer in silence." She drew her hand back, her gaze drifting once more to the scene below. "We deserve warmth, even if it's only borrowed."

Jaehaerys's lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but it faded as quickly as it had appeared. "Then what do we do, Princess? Stand here and lick our wounds, or descend into the fire and risk being burned?"

Elia's voice was quiet but resolute. "We decide if the fire is worth it."

"Fate seems to delight in its cruelties," Jaehaerys replied bitterly, his voice hollow. "I thought I had endured enough of its spite. But seeing her... with him..." He shook his head, unable to continue.

Elia's gaze softened as she regarded him. "You love her deeply," she said, not as a question but a fact.

"And you love him," Jaehaerys said, glancing briefly toward the hall where Rhaegar and Lyanna spun in each other's arms.

Elia laughed quietly, though there was no joy in the sound. "A foolish love, perhaps. But yes, I do. I bore his children, gave him my loyalty, my trust. And for what? To watch him chase after a northern girl who has caught his fancy? To be humiliated before all these lords and ladies?" She paused, her voice trembling slightly.

Jaehaerys looked at her, his own pain momentarily eclipsed by hers. "I understand that feeling. To be invisible to the one who holds your heart." He clenched his jaw. "But you... you don't deserve this, Elia. None of it."

"Do you remember it, Jaehaerys?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. "How the entire arena fell silent? It wasn't awe. It wasn't shock. It was a collective breath held for my humiliation."

Jaehaerys closed his eyes, the memory as sharp to him as it clearly was to her. The roar of the crowd, the thunder of hooves—then nothing. Silence, save for the wind, as Rhaegar Targaryen rode past his wife, past the expectant lords and ladies, and placed the crown of blue roses in Lyanna Stark's lap.

"I remember," he said, his voice quiet but filled with a dark undertone. "Even the wind seemed to hush itself, as if to ensure everyone could hear the weight of his betrayal."

Elia let out a shaky breath, her composure slipping. "And the looks. Gods, the looks. As though I were a ghost haunting the very seat they had given me. I could feel them staring, Jaehaerys. Watching for me to break. Did they hope for tears? A scream? They would have had their fill of entertainment then."

"You gave them none of it," Jaehaerys said, his gaze fixed on her. "You sat there, unyielding. That was their cruelty, Elia. Your strength denied them satisfaction."

Elia turned her head to face him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "And yet I felt as though I'd been stripped bare before them. What man does that to the mother of his children, Jaehaerys? What man, before thousands, declares to the world that his heart lies elsewhere? What man turns a wife into a phantom?"

Jaehaerys's expression darkened, his hands clenching at his sides. "A man who has lost himself in his own delusions of destiny," he spat. "A man too blind to see what he already holds. You deserved none of it, Elia. Not the silence. Not the stares. And certainly not Rhaegar's blatant disregard."

Elia's voice softened, though her words carried the weight of their shared grief. "That is the true cruelty, isn't it? To be unseen by the ones we yearn for most. To sit under the same sky, breathe the same air, and yet remain invisible."

Jaehaerys nodded, his eyes glinting with something between anger and despair. "And the world watches, Elia. Always watching. Not to comfort us, but to feast on our pain."

Elia let out a sharp breath, her gaze fixed on the stars as if they might offer some solace. "Do you know what stings the most, Jae? It's not just the humiliation. It's knowing that Rhaegar thinks himself justified. That his betrayal is not a betrayal at all but some grand, noble act for the sake of his precious prophecy."

Jaehaerys's eyes narrowed. "The Song of Ice and Fire," he muttered, the words dripping with disdain. "He speaks of it as though it's carved into the heavens themselves. As though his every step is ordained by fate."

Elia let out a bitter laugh, the sound laced with fury. "Fate? Is that what it is when a man abandons the woman who gave him children? When he looks into the eyes of his daughter and son and sees only pieces of a puzzle he must complete? Is that what he calls it when he rides past his wife to crown another woman before the world?"

Jaehaerys's eyes flickered toward her, his expression darkening further. "The Prince That Was Promised," he muttered, his tone dripping with contempt. "Rhaegar has become a slave to his own delusions, Elia. He sees the world not as it is but as he believes it must be. His self-made justification. As though the whims of some half-forgotten verse grant him the right to destroy lives."

Elia's lips trembled, though her voice remained steady. "Do you know what he told me once? He said that our son, Aegon, was the prince that was promised. That he would be the one to save the world. And I believed him, Jaehaerys. I believed it because I wanted to. Because I loved him." Her voice cracked on the last word, but she pressed on. "But now? Now, I wonder if even our children are mere pieces on his gameboard. If I ever meant anything more to him than a stepping stone to his grand idea of destiny."

Jaehaerys's expression darkened further, his fingers curling into fists. "He has convinced himself that he is the hero of some grand tale. That every choice he makes is in service of a greater good. It's not prophecy, Elia. It's vanity. The vanity of a man who cannot see past his own reflection in the pages of some old scroll."

Elia turned to him, her eyes glistening. "And Lyanna? What is she to him? Another stone to step? Or has he deluded himself into believing she is the key to it all? That she will bear his perfect child? He risks everything, Jaehaerys—our family, our children—for a prophecy no one truly understands."

Jaehaerys's laugh was bitter and cold. "He's cast her as the maiden of his tale, the muse to his tragic ballad. She is his justification now, as much as the prophecy ever was. May the gods have mercy on her if she isn't the solution to his delusion. No one is sacred in the shadow of his fantasy of an obsession."

Elia's hands trembled on the railing. "And yet I sit there, silent, while he dances with her. While he weaves his fantasy for all to see, I endure. Because what else can I do, Jaehaerys? If I scream, if I lash out, I become the mad Dornishwoman who couldn't bear the weight of a prophecy."

Jaehaerys's lips curled into a bitter smile. "He has always believed himself more than a man. A poet, a warrior, a savior. He forgets the cost of his dreams—what it does to those he claims to love."

Elia's shoulders sagged, the fire in her voice dimming into a painful quiet. "He crowned her, Jaehaerys. Before the eyes of the realm, he placed a crown of blue roses in her lap as if to say she was the key to his future. And I... I am nothing but a shadow trailing behind."

For a moment, Jaehaerys didn't reply, his gaze hardening as he looked past her, toward the stars. "Perhaps we are all chasing shadows," he said finally, his voice hollow. "Rhaegar seeks a prophecy. You seek a husband's love. I seek a heart that does not see me. And in the end, we are all left in the dark."

Elia nodded, her voice breaking as she whispered, "And the realm will pay the price for one man's dreams."

"I will endure it. For Rhaenys, for Aegon. For the love I once bore him, even if it feels like a fading memory." She looked at Jaehaerys, her voice softening.

Elia's fingers dug into the railing as her composure cracked, her voice rising with an edge of exasperation. "Why does he have to be so perfect?" she demanded, her words bursting forth like a dam breaking. "Why does the world have to see him as this faultless, noble prince? Why does he wear his beauty and grace like armor, shielding himself from any consequence of his cruelty?"

"Why must everything he does be for some greater purpose? He can never simply be human—flawed, imperfect, like the rest of us. Everything he touches turns into some celestial mission. He's always striving, always reaching for some ideal that doesn't even exist!"

Jaehaerys's gaze softened, but the frustration mirrored her own. He knew well the feeling of being lost beneath someone else's impossible expectations. "Because he's a Targaryen," Jaehaerys said, his words cutting through the night air like a blade. "And we are all cursed to live for something greater than ourselves."

She shook her head, her dark hair falling loose from its elegant arrangement. "He stands there, playing his harp, speaking in riddles, chasing prophecies like a madman. And still, they all love him. They revere him. They cheer his name, even as he tears me apart piece by piece." Her voice cracked, and she took a shuddering breath. "And yet... and yet, I cannot hate him. Even now, I cannot bring myself to hate him."

Jaehaerys's shoulders slacked "It's the curse of men like Rhaegar," he said, his tone laced with bitterness. "They shine so brightly that no one dares look close enough to see the shadows they cast. People don't see the pain they leave behind, the lives they unravel in their wake. And for those of you trapped in his orbit..." He trailed off, his voice heavy with shared understanding.

Elia laughed bitterly, her tears threatening to spill over. "For those of us in their orbit, we're left with scraps, Jaehaerys. Scraps of a man who is too consumed by his own visions to see what he already has. What he's already destroying."

Jaehaerys sighed, his expression softening as he looked at her. "You shouldn't have to endure his perfection, his flaws masquerading as virtues, without someone to remind you of the truth."

Elia gave him a weary smile, her voice quieting but losing none of its ache. "And what is the truth, Jaehaerys? That I am not enough for him? That even if I bore him ten sons and sang his songs of destiny, it would never be enough? That he would always be looking elsewhere—chasing something I cannot give?"

"The truth," Jaehaerys said firmly, "is that you are more than enough. Rhaegar's inability to see it doesn't diminish your worth. It only highlights his blindness."

Elia turned her face to the night sky, the stars blurred by her unshed tears. "If only the rest of the world could see it, Jaehaerys. But they don't. They never will. To them, Rhaegar Targaryen is perfection. And I am just the woman he left behind for his dreams of blue roses and prophecies."

Jaehaerys's gaze hardened as he looked out into the distance, the light from the torches below flickering in the darkness. His mind was far from the dance or the revelry; his thoughts were tangled with the growing unease.

"You know my father…" Jaehaerys began, his voice low and tinged with frustration. "He's getting more paranoid with every passing day. It's becoming harder to ignore."

Elia turned her head toward him, sensing the shift in his tone. "What do you mean?"

Jaehaerys's fingers curled into a fist, his eyes darkening with the weight of his words. "Every decision, every command... It's like he's trying to prepare for something, or maybe... he's just afraid. Afraid that the throne is slipping from his grasp, afraid that the power he clings to will shatter if he lets his guard down for even a moment." He scoffed bitterly.

"But it's worse than that. He sees enemies everywhere—people to be watched, silenced, eliminated. His paranoia is reaching new heights, and I fear what that might mean."

Elia's brow furrowed in concern. "I take it you—you're caught in the middle of it."

"I always have been," Jaehaerys replied, his voice tight. "I'm not blind to it, Elia. I've seen the way he looks at me now, like I'm a threat. He's been watching me closely, as though I'm a shadow that might turn on him. His own son, someone he's never given a moment of trust or affection, and yet I'm the one he fears."

Elia's gaze softened, and she placed a hand on his arm. "He's always treated you poorly, Jaehaerys. But fear and paranoia… they make men do strange things. Dangerous things."

Jaehaerys's lips pressed into a thin line. "It's not just me, though. It's everyone. He's becoming erratic. You've seen the way he speaks of alliances, how he distrusts every noble house. He no longer sees them as partners; he sees them as pawns, and even worse, as potential traitors."

Elia let out a deep sigh, her voice laden with a mix of sadness and understanding. "He's no longer the king who sat proudly on the Iron Throne, confident in his rule. He's a man on the edge, Jaehaerys. And when men are on the edge… they lash out."

Jaehaerys nodded, his face hardening. "And when they lash out, they destroy everything around them." He met her gaze, his words sharp. "I just don't know how much longer I can stand by and watch him spiral. Something's going to break, and when it does, I don't think anyone will be spared."

Jaehaerys's voice grew heavier, the weight of his words pressing on his chest. He turned to Elia, his eyes intense, as though trying to read her, searching for some reassurance.

"Elia," he said quietly, "I need you to promise me something." His gaze flickered briefly to the palace below, where the torches cast long shadows over the festivities. "Promise me that no one in your family will take Rhaegar's crowning of Lyanna Stark as a slight. Not your father, not your brothers, and especially not your uncle."

Elia's expression shifted, concern rising in her eyes. "You ask a difficult thing, Jaehaerys," she replied softly. "You know how my family holds their pride. How we feel about the Targaryens and our place in the realm." She glanced away for a moment, clearly conflicted. "To see Lyanna crowned... it cannot be easy for them."

Jaehaerys took a step closer to her, his voice dropping low, as if to ensure no one else could overhear. "I know, but with my father's growing paranoia, it will be a problem for anyone to question a Targaryen, even in private. The slightest sign of defiance—an accusation, a comment, a look—and it could all spiral out of control." His lips tightened in frustration. "Father is paranoid, Elia. If your family reacts poorly, if your brothers or your father feel disrespected, it could give him the excuse he needs to turn his fury on you. On all of you."

Elia's eyes hardened. She didn't speak for a long moment, the weight of his request pressing on her. Finally, she gave a slow nod. "I understand, Jaehaerys. He would use anything—any excuse—to set his wrath upon us. My father and my brothers... they are proud men, and Rhaegar's actions will not sit well with them. But I will speak to them. I'll remind them of the balance we must maintain, for the sake of our family. For the sake of our lives."

Jaehaerys let out a long breath, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "I know how difficult it is, Elia. I don't ask this lightly. But I fear that if Aerys catches even the slightest hint of discord between our houses, it could lead to something far worse than any of us can predict."

"I will keep them in line," Elia said firmly, her voice steady but not without the weight of her own uncertainty. "I will make sure my family does not make this worse. But I cannot promise that there will be no resentment. We will walk a thin line, and every step we take from here on out will be measured."

Jaehaerys nodded, though his brow remained furrowed. "Just remember what's at stake. If Aerys sees any signs of disloyalty, even among those closest to him... the consequences could be devastating." His words were heavy, a quiet warning he knew she understood all too well.

She met his gaze, a silent agreement passing between them—two people standing on the edge of something fragile.

---

Aerys's voice broke the stillness, low and raspy. "Jaehaerys…" His tone was deceptively soft, almost coaxing. "Tell me, boy, do you fancy Ashara Dayne?"

Jaehaerys froze, the question hanging in the air like a heavy weight. His heart hammered in his chest, and for a moment, his mind went blank. Ashara. The woman who had danced with Eddard Stark in front of him, whose beauty seemed to light up the room every time she entered it. His feelings for her were deep, a quiet ache that had settled into his chest since that first moment he'd seen her at the tourney.

But the truth of the matter—his father's question—gnawed at him. He could feel it, the pull of Aerys's manipulative influence, the way he always seemed to twist situations into his favor, even when it meant destroying lives. If he were to say yes... if he were to admit his feelings for Ashara, it would give Aerys the excuse he needed.

Jaehaerys swallowed hard, knowing the consequences but unable to hold back the truth that had been festering inside him for so long.

"Yes," he said quietly, almost a whisper, the word slipping from his lips before he could stop it. "I do."

For a moment, the silence between them seemed to stretch on forever, and Jaehaerys could feel the weight of his admission hanging in the air like a spell. Aerys's lips curled into a faint, cruel smile, his yellowed teeth showing through the cracks of his lips his eyes gleaming with something between satisfaction and madness. "Ah… I thought as much. She's beautiful, isn't she? The way she dances. The way she moves." He paused, his long, curling nails tapping against the chair rest. "It's a pity, really, that she's already taken. But then again, I'm sure we can arrange things... If you truly fancy her, Jaehaerys."

Jaehaerys's chest tightened, the weight of his words pressing on him like a stone. He knew now that it was too late to retract them. His father was already forming a plan in that twisted mind of his, one that would involve Ashara in a way that would forever change her life. Jaehaerys had unwittingly put her in his father's grasp.

"Father, no—" Jaehaerys began, his voice rough, but Aerys held up a trembling hand, silencing him with a slow, deliberate gesture.

"No? You fancy her, and yet you resist? Why? Is it because of Stark?" Aerys' eyes narrowed, his voice laced with cruel amusement. "It's no matter. I see the way you look at her, boy. The way your eyes linger when she's near. A woman like her, with the beauty she possesses, could be useful to us. Yes… useful."

Jaehaerys swallowed hard, his pulse quickening as the dread set in. "You cannot take her from Stark," he said, his voice strained, pleading, but already knowing his words were futile. "You cannot force this, Father. She has her own life, her own affections."

Aerys' laugh was sharp, a sound full of madness. "I can do whatever I please. And if you truly fancy her, then it will be a fitting match. Think of it, Jaehaerys—marrying her, joining the Daynes to the Targaryens, and all for you. You can consider it a prize, an award. But she..." His voice dropped, dark and knowing. "She'll learn quickly what it means to be under our control. She'll learn her place. And the Stark? A man like him will do nothing. He's a fool, too blinded by his own honor to see what's coming for him."

Jaehaerys's throat tightened as he struggled to breathe, his thoughts a jumbled mess. He could see it now—the future that Aerys had set out for him, a marriage born of his father's whim, one that would tear Ashara away from the man she loved, drag her into the chaos of the Targaryen dynasty. He had made his choice, and now the consequences would be paid in full.

"Father, please," Jaehaerys whispered, the words barely escaping his lips. "Let her go. Let her be with Stark. This... this isn't what I wanted."

Aerys smiled, a cold, unsettling grin that made Jaehaerys's skin crawl. "You're a fool, Jaehaerys. You never get what you want. But you will get what I give you. And you'll learn to accept it." He leaned back in his chair, his nails tapping softly against the armrest once more. "I'll arrange it all. A match between you and Ashara Dayne."

He took a shaky step forward, his voice softer, more desperate this time. "Father... please," Jaehaerys said, his words barely above a whisper. "Are you sure you want this? Are you sure you want to force this on her? She's already with the Stark—she loves him. You can't just... tear her away from him like this."

Aerys didn't immediately respond, his pale, feverish eyes glinting in the candlelight. His fingers curled around the armrest of his chair, long nails scraping against the wood with a slow, deliberate sound.

Aerys tilted his head slowly, the corners of his lips curling into a thin, cruel smile. "You ask the same thing, over and over, Jaehaerys. Why do you care so much for this woman? Why does it matter so deeply to you? You speak of love, but you don't want to be with her." His voice was cold, his eyes distant, as though he were speaking not to Jaehaerys, but to some far-off place in his mind. "This is not about her, boy. This is about what's right—about securing our future. She will do her part, just as you will."

Jaehaerys's voice cracked as he spoke again, a tremor of desperation in his words. "I care, Father. I care about her—more than you know. If you force this, I'll never be able to look at her the same way again. And neither will she. Please... Please, don't do this."

Aerys' gaze narrowed, and for a moment, he studied Jaehaerys with a quiet intensity, as though he were weighing his son's words against the currents of his own delusions.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Aerys spoke, his voice quiet and final. "You are weak, Jaehaerys. You are weak because you care. You feel too much. But I do not care about feelings, and neither should you. This is necessary. For the good of the realm. For the good of the Targaryens."

Jaehaerys's chest tightened with frustration, and the urge to push back, to defy his father's command, was nearly overwhelming. But the cold reality of his position pressed down on him. If he said no, if he fought against this, his father's wrath would be swift—and it would not be just Ashara who would suffer, but everyone around him. He had no power here. Not truly.

With a heavy heart, Jaehaerys lowered his gaze, defeated. "Then... what must I do?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, the last vestiges of his resistance slipping away.

Aerys leaned back in his chair, his eyes gleaming with malicious satisfaction. "You will marry her. It's already decided. I will send word to The Daynes, and they will be forced. As will she. And may the Starks be reminded of who holds the power." His smile deepened, cruel and triumphant. "And when she is yours, you will see that she learns her place. All will be as it should be."

"Very well, Father," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, thick with resignation.

Aerys didn't respond, his eyes already distant, lost in the spirals of his madness. Jaehaerys turned slowly, each step heavier than the last as he walked toward the door. The sound of his footsteps on the stone floor seemed to echo in the silence of the room, a reminder of the weight he carried. The weight of the decision. The weight of what he had just allowed to unfold.

As he reached the door, he hesitated for a moment, the flicker of doubt lingering. His hand rested on the cold iron handle, but he knew there was no turning back. His gaze swept the room one last time, lingering on his father's frail figure, before he finally opened the door.

Stepping into the darkened hallway, Jaehaerys let the door fall shut behind him with a dull thud. The echo of it seemed to reverberate through him, a reminder of the prison he had just walked out of—and the one he was about to enter. The path before him was set, the consequences already unfolding in the shadows.

He didn't look back. There was nothing left to say. Nothing left to do.

Jaehaerys's steps were rapid, his mind a storm of conflicting emotions as he made his way through the winding corridors of the Red Keep. He couldn't shake the weight of what had just transpired in his father's chambers. His chest felt tight, his thoughts disjointed, and yet his legs moved almost instinctively, carrying him through the halls that seemed to grow colder with every passing moment.

As he rounded a corner, he collided with someone, stumbling slightly before catching himself.

"Jaehaerys?" Elia's voice was a soft, concerned whisper, her eyes wide with surprise. She took a step back, concern etched on her face as she regarded him, her gaze quickly searching his expression. "What's wrong?"

Jaehaerys took a steadying breath, his pulse racing as his mind scrambled for words. Seeing her now, so calm, so composed in comparison to the storm inside him, only added to the growing sense of suffocation. His chest felt tight, and he knew he couldn't keep this from her—not when she had already seen so much.

"I need to talk to you," he said, his voice hoarse, heavier than he intended. The words tumbled out before he could stop them. "It's important, Elia. Can we go somewhere... private?"

"What's going on, Jaehaerys?" she asked softly, her voice gentle but firm. "You look... like you've seen a ghost."

"I—" He stopped himself, his words choking in his throat. There was no easy way to say this. No easy way to explain the depth of the mess he had just walked into. "I've... I've made a terrible mistake. My father... He's forced my hand."

Elia's eyes narrowed with understanding. She stepped closer, her hand reaching out to lightly touch his arm, a gesture of comfort in the midst of his turmoil. "What happened?" she asked, her voice gentle but firm. "What did your father do?"

Jaehaerys's heart pounded in his chest, and for a moment, he couldn't find the words. But then he took a deep breath and finally spoke, his voice strained. "It's done," he muttered, his words coming out almost in a whisper. "My father... he's arranged everything. I'm to marry Ashara."

Elia's face froze for a moment, her eyes widening with shock. The silence between them stretched, thick and heavy, before she finally spoke, her voice trembling. "What? No... Jaehaerys, you can't mean that. You can't let him do this."

"I had no choice," Jaehaerys replied quickly, his voice cracking with emotion. "I didn't want this. I didn't want to drag her into it, but I..." His voice faltered, and he looked away, swallowing hard. "I said yes. I let him do this. I let it happen."

"I told him," he continued, his voice breaking slightly. "And now... now he's going to force it. Force her to marry me, rip her from the Stark, from the life she's made. He thinks it's a way to secure power, remind the kingdoms of who holds the power."

She took a step toward him, but he held up a hand to stop her, his face contorting in frustration. "I didn't want this. I didn't want to hurt her" His voice cracked, unable to finish the sentence.

Jaehaerys's gaze dropped to the floor, unable to meet her eyes. The reality of it was too much to bear. "I've ruined everything. I've ruined her life."

Elia's hand tightened on his arm, her face a mixture of shock, anger, and sympathy. "This is madness, Jaehaerys. You can't just let him tear apart her life... and yours."

Jaehaerys shook his head, his eyes distant. "I don't have a choice. I've already made it clear to my father that I can't do this, but... he doesn't listen. He never listens. And now he's set it in motion."

Finally, he sighed, the tension in his shoulders seeming to ease just slightly. "I don't know how to face her," he repeated softly, the pain still there, but quieter now. "But I'll have to."

Elia stood still for a moment, the room thick with her own brewing frustration and sadness. She reached out, gently lifting his chin so he would meet her gaze

"Ashara is going to hate me," he spat, his voice bitter. "She'll hate me for this, Elia. She'll never forgive me. I'll be no better than my father—forcing her into a life she didn't choose, taking her away from the man she loves."

His words tumbled out like a torrent, the deep pain behind them raw and unchecked. "She'll see me as nothing more than an extension of that madness. A tool in my father's hands. I—I don't even know what's worse. That I'm doing this to her, or that I let it happen." His voice cracked on the last words, the vulnerability exposed in the darkness of the hallway.

Jaehaerys turned away from Elia for a moment, his gaze fixed on the stone walls as though they could somehow offer him solace. "I never wanted any of this. I never wanted to hurt her. I care about her, Elia. I care about her more than I've ever cared about anything. And now... now I'm going to be the one to ruin everything."

Elia's gaze softened, the deep sorrow in her eyes reflecting his own pain. She stepped closer, reaching out to touch his arm again, her touch gentle but firm. "Jaehaerys, you didn't choose this. You didn't want this. You're not your father."

He shook his head, the frustration and self-loathing still heavy in his voice. "It doesn't matter. The result will be the same. She'll hate me, Elia. I know it."

For a moment, Elia didn't know how to respond, the helplessness of the situation pressing on her as much as it pressed on him. She let the silence stretch between them, then spoke quietly, her voice steady but full of understanding.

"You can't predict how she'll feel, Jaehaerys. You don't know what's in her heart yet. Maybe she won't hate you. Maybe she'll understand... somehow. But what I do know is that you're not the villain in this. You're not the one who forced this fate upon her."

Jaehaerys closed his eyes for a moment, as if trying to shut out the swirling thoughts, but the weight of his guilt and the looming future felt like an anchor around his neck.

"I don't know how to face her, knowing what I'm about to do to her." His words were thick with grief, the realization settling in his chest like a stone.

"I'll talk to her," Elia said, her voice gentle but resolute. "I'll speak to Ashara. If there's any chance of her understanding... if there's any way to make this easier for you both, I'll find it. I promise you."

Jaehaerys's gaze flickered to her, a mix of surprise and gratitude flashing in his eyes. "You'll... you'll talk to her?"

Elia nodded, her expression softening with the sincerity of her words. "Ashara's been by my side for long. And I know what you're feeling. I see it in your eyes. It's not easy, and I can't pretend it will be. But I can try. I can help you. I will make sure she knows that you never wanted this—that this isn't your fault."

Jaehaerys felt something stir in him—something lighter, though it was still wrapped in doubt. "You think she'll believe it? That she'll understand?"

Elia's gaze met his with quiet conviction. "She's not a fool, Jaehaerys. She knows you. And I know her. She's not someone who will lash out blindly. If she sees your heart in this... If she knows that you're just as trapped as she is... there's a chance. Maybe not an easy one, but a chance."

Jaehaerys nodded slowly, his hands still clenched at his sides. The thought of Ashara's heart breaking because of him, made his chest ache. But Elia's words, though they didn't erase his fear, gave him a thread of hope to hold onto.