Jace always knew he loved you. It was as if it was simply written into his heart from the very beginning.

You were born a year after him, his precious and only younger sister. He didn’t remember that day well, only how Rhaenyra allowed him to watch you in the cradle, and how your little hands reached out to him.

But when Viserys made a vile proposal to betroth you to Aegon, Rhaenyra refused without hesitation, instead betrothing you to your older brother Jace. And from that day on, he vowed to love and protect you.

The eldest son should marry the eldest sister, this was tradition of his House, and in fact this did not bother Jace one bit.

You grew up together, he was always by your side, from your first word to the first time you tasted Dornish wine and almost choked. You never missed his training with Ser Harwin Strong, and he always sat next to you while you stitched. You two were inseparable.

But when he returned from Winterfell after learning of Luke's death, it seemed to him that the ground was falling away from under his feet as he descended from Vermax.

He held on until the last, not allowing a single muscle on his face to move when he talked to his mother. He was the crown—prince, he had to be perfect, for his queen—mother, for his family, and ultimately for you.

But when he returned to your chambers, he found you there sitting near the fireplace, in this terribly mournful black dress. You didn’t even pay attention to his arrival, you were too carried away by the flames. He knew you had been crying earlier, your slightly swollen red augers giving you away.

“Sister,” His voice trembled for a moment, he felt that all the grief he had been storing was about to explode.