𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐇  𝐀𝐍𝐃  𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐄 . ¨. ☄︎ ͎۪۫
𝟎𝟎𝟎. the cut that always bleeds
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𓆩 ♡ 𓆪

𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐒 𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 to believe that girls could dance with the water.

He formed his hypothesis when he was merely six years of age, the first time he saw that little girl who came from the Thorn Islands toying with the sea. The princeling didn't recall why he had decided to escape from the castle that evening, nor did he know why his mischievous feet had dragged him straight to the shore; what he did remember was the way that delicate creature had been marking the tide's rhythm with her own hands, singing a mystical melody only the waves could understand.

Jace had seen her before, wandering around the Red Keep's halls dressed in steel blue silks that contrasted perfectly with the red and black leathers of his usual attires; still, he'd never been near—or perhaps brave—enough to approach her. Long hair wrapped in pretty braids, eyes as clear as the sky, steps so quiet one could easily mistake her for a shadow. In a mere instant, she had crowned herself as princess of the ocean, and Jacaerys swore that no one, not even the Seven, would be able to change that.

That same night, he ran back to his mother. He asked her if she, too, could control the waters. Rhaenyra Targaryen had sweetly laughed at his son's words, brushing his hair out of his forehead before giving him an answer: she did not possess the skill to command the sea, but she had friends in the Thorn Islands who practiced the art of water magic.

Those words, however, did not satisfy his curiosity.

Deemed too young to know more about the topic, he then pleaded Ser Harwin Strong to tell him more about the girl who'd been plaguing his thoughts.

Her name was Orianna, and she was the second and youngest daughter of Lord and Lady Thornton. She and her parents would be spending the last six months of every year in King's Landing as per request of the king—Jace's grandfather, who was also great friends with Lord Thornton—, while her older brother stayed home, practicing his duties as the future leader of the Thorn Islands. By the end of the week, the boy had already learned that people from her land came from Rhoynish heritage; that they, on the contrary to Valyrians, used water magic instead of blood and fire, and, even though that had caused many wars in the distant past, House Targaryen and House Thornton had eventually formed an alliance in order to strengthen their opposite forces.

Drenched by the new knowledge, Jace was forced to accept that his old theory hadn't been completely true—only some girls from the Thorn Islands could reign over the seas, but at least he was certain of one thing: those with mahogany hair and light blue eyes were the ones who did it better.

Mahogany hair. Light blue eyes.

Just like Orianna's.

From then on, Jace did everything and more in order to get close to her. And he did, of course, for he always got what he wanted. The prince was determined and headstrong, a child whose veins fed off dragon blood, and that charming smile of his had finally earned him the attention of the quiet girl who danced with the ocean.

She became his companion, his dearest friend, and, ever since then, he spent half the year sticking to her side like a helpless wolf cub, and the other half counting the days until she finally came back to King's Landing.

Now, four years later, he was laying on the sand, brown eyes stuck to her figure as she practiced her magic. The auburn strands that had escaped from her braid flowed elegantly with the wind; her shoes had been abandoned far away from the shore, waves caressing her naked feet. Her abilities had clearly evolved with time—Orianna was more skilled now, raising her right hand as a thin thread of water followed her fingertips, and, although Jacaerys wasn't close enough to see the details on her face, he could picture her concentrated expression: the lines between her dark eyebrows, the pursed lips, the pair of rosy cheeks she always tried to hide.

Jace would've liked to believe that the ocean was the one soothing his raging thoughts at the moment, but, deep down, his young soul knew that Orianna Thornton was the real fountain of peace, one that he didn't want to share with anybody. Even though she hid a dagger under her cloak, and even though his uncle Aegon had called her distasteful and boring many times in the past, she was simply and utterly...

The prince sighed heavily.

He couldn't come up with the right word to describe her.

"You have been sitting there for a long time, Jacaerys." His head instantly turned in her direction; her voice was a mellow sound, quiet yet sharp. "Might as well say something, or I will start to think that Ser Criston Cole cut your tongue out during training."

The boy pouted, crossing his arms like the stubborn child that he was, "I do not feel the need to speak right now."

"As much as I like you better when your mouth is shut," a playful smile adorned her lips as she spoke, "I find it unsettling when you're not pestering me with questions."

He was about to protest, but his vocal cords froze under her gaze. It was deep, and knowing, and it made Jace feel as if she were the dragon instead of him.

The princeling knew about whispers—tales of a cursed child, a girl born with the ability to read one's worst fears and greatest desires—, but his mother had always told him to ignore the gossips, and so he did. However, Jacaerys suddenly understood the reason why servants and Maesters had spread those rumors all around the castle.

Perhaps that was part of her magical abilities. Perhaps she could read the tide's thoughts, too.

A splash of cold water managed to get him out of his mind. Jacaerys quickly got up, wiping his face before meeting a grinning Orianna. He was a few months older than her, but, much to his dismay, she was as tall as him; putting up the tough act he'd been taught at the training courtyard would not work to his advantage—not with her, at least, for she had never been one to submit.

"You did that."

The girl raised her chin a little higher, proud of her work, "I did, yes."

Her smirk grew wider.

Jacaerys couldn't help but be infected by the sight.

But then the corners of his mouth wavered. Smile collapsing, lower lip turned into a trembling mess. His eyes burned as he kept them stuck on her face, looking for something—anything—that he could hold onto.

There it was, taunting him like a living nightmare. That one thing that had been haunting him ever since he heard the news, the lump of sadness that had started growing inside his chest once he realized what that meant for them. The pain came crashing down, taking his breath away; a punch in the gut, an opened cut.

Jacaerys was young, but old enough to understand that moments with her had come to an end.

She was never going to throw water at him with those magic hands of hers.

She would forever stop teasing him for wanting to see her use her powers, she would not help him escape from Aegon's clutches when his taunting became too overbearing. His mother would stop looking for them around the entire Red Keep, because they wouldn't sneak out to the beach anymore. She was not going to tell him more stories about the waters in her land, nor the monsters she thought lived in them.

He would not be seeing her again.

"Aemond told me."

Cracked voice, heavy shoulders. He managed to blink the tears away, meeting Orianna's confused gaze.

The girl frowned, "What are you talking about?"

"That you're leaving," he spat, harsher than he had intended. Once he felt the tears coming back, Jace's fists clenched by his side; princes did not cry, and he was not willing to break that rule in front of Orianna. "You are not coming back to King's Landing, are you?"

Her silence spoke louder than a thousand words.

Orianna's smile completely vanished from her face, and, as she concocted her next words, her eyes hid secrets that not even Jacaerys, her closest friend, could comprehend. He noticed the way his own pain flickered on her pupils, the way her breathing quickened as she tried to look unaffected, but Jace wasn't even sure if he had imagined it.

"I do not think so."

A direct answer, as curt and vicious as a wooden sword sinking into his chest.

"You didn't tell me," he whispered, fighting to catch his breath back.

"Some things are better left unsaid."

The pang of agony that took over Jacaerys' stomach forced him to take a step back; a shaky puff of air escaping from his lips as he fixated his eyes on the quiet waves. Feeling lost, the boy proceeded to count them one by one—it was a method his mother had taught him, one that she used in order to keep her composure and distract her mind from the things she didn't like.

He could only hope for it to work.

A cold hand landed on his back, and he didn't dare to look at the presence that stood beside him. He was mad, and upset, and, at that moment, his pride rathered smell the salty air than that wretched lavender soap, so typical of Targaryen women, that his mother gifted Orianna every time she arrived at King's Landing.

However, the prince underestimated her power, for he ended up looking at the girl once he felt the way her fingers clutched onto his cloak—as if she, too, was looking for an anchor.

"I do not wish to leave, Jace." Her voice was softer this time, expression filled with something he couldn't quite catch. Distress, perhaps; maybe the tiniest spark of sorrow. "But my brother... he's terribly sick."

As soon as those words reached his ears, his anger was replaced by concern,  "How is he?"

"Father refused to tell me, but I could see it on his face. It is bad, and permanent." Orianna turned her head away, hiding her face from his worried stare, "We ought to be by his side."

Silence engulfed them after that. It clawed its way over the children's toes, sliding up their legs like a treacherous snake until it finally nestled in the back of their throats.

Truth was, Jacaerys did not know what to say.

He knew Orianna like the palm of his hand, and he was not blind to the fact that she hated pity just as much as she loathed the smell of the Dragonpit. He, too, had been having trouble expressing his feelings when it came to loss ever since Harwin Strong's death, but, at that time, Ori had been by his side, like a quiet angel who held his hand, tightening her grip every time his eyes began to water.

Even when he wasn't able to hold his darkest secret any longer, even when he confessed and told her that he was a bastard, Orianna stayed there. She looked him in the eye, nodded her head in reassurance, and Jace swore that was all he needed to prove his worth as a true Targaryen.

It only took him a second to realize it. The crash of a wave against the sand, the blink of an eye.

He needed her there.

He could not lose her.

"You could stay here."

Her frown deepened, but the boy's heart kept beating faster; words and ideas elating a mess on the tip of his tongue, "Jace—"

"Grandfather could give you any chamber you want. And... and, once I'm old enough to ride Vermax, we could go to the Thorn Islands so you can visit your family and—"

"Jacaerys."

His ramble was cut off in an instant.

"You're being cruel," she muttered next. The hand she had previously rested on his back fell limply by her side, as if she didn't have any strength left. "You are a prince, but not even you can get what you want all the time." Orianna shook her head, voice faltering as she uttered her next words, "Father wants to prepare me, just in case I have to lead House Thornton instead of my brother."

Jace saw opal irises darkened by a grey shadow, a stare so cold and static that her tears remained frozen, trapped inside her eyes. She always spoke with such maturity, she used words he'd only heard in adult's mouths, and yet he knew she was breaking down, prepared to explode into a million pieces. He could see the cracks, the fractures, the tiny spots of pain that she couldn't conceal any longer, no matter how hard she tried.

Orianna Thornton did not want to leave him.

But, especially, she did not want to become a ruler.

He took her hand, guided by that primal instinct that had forced him to befriend her in the first place, "That is not what you wish for, Ori."

Her gaze had gone back to the ocean, the same waters she loved to the bone, but she squeezed Jace's hand back. It was her silent way of telling him that she had heard him, and that she knew he was right.

"But it is my duty." A tired sigh left Orianna's mouth, "We're supposed to respect that, are we not?"

Unfortunately, the answer was a 'yes'.

They both knew what they had to do.

A prince, the eldest son, a boy that one day would become a king. A lady, the youngest daughter, a girl whose fate would be decided by her parents.

Jace had heard about sacrifices, the ones his mother had written when she was named heir to the Iron Throne. He knew of effort. He knew how it felt to give it all just to be seen as worthy—to avoid the hushed whispers that talked about his brown locks instead of silver hair, honey eyes instead of purple gaze. Still, he had been too naive to comprehend the real weight a mere title could put over one's shoulders, but now he was seeing it there, reflected on his dear Orianna, and he soon understood that he could not change a path that had already been traced.

Jacaerys felt helpless.

And yet he knew that he needed to do something. Something that would keep her by his side—a shadow of her, at the very least, no matter how faint it was.

"We'll meet again." Jace stepped in front of Orianna; unbending courage and conviction forging his features. He wanted her to look at him, he wanted her to know how much he meant those words. "I'll ask mother to teach me how to write the best letters in the whole realm, and I'll send one to you every week until Vermax and I can fly to the islands."

The corners of her lips twitched upwards, and a sense of relief took over Jacaerys body once he caught the sweet smile on her face. Her eyes were glazed, shining with the golden rays of sunshine that had started to paint the sky orange.

"You forget dragons can not step on the Thorn Islands." Her grin had turned sour, aching, but it seemed like she was holding onto it; she didn't want to let it go, not at that moment. "They hate our waters, Jace."

"I will find another way, then." He nodded his head firmly. His heart jumped in his chest, warning him about the promise he was about to make, but Jace simply didn't care. "I swear it."

The prince kissed his thumb, proceeding to extend his hand in her direction. Orianna hesitated for a moment, her expression wavered as she pondered about her next step. Jacaerys throat started to close when she didn't move, but then she copied his actions, entwining her hand with his in a special way that allowed their thumbs to touch.

That was their secret gesture—one they've been sharing for years, since Orianna taught it to Jace. A silent oath, only known in the Thorn Islands; a vow, one that linked their flesh and bones into one promise, one word.

But the waters didn't dance anymore.

Letters didn't arrive. Maesters told the prince that all the ravens he'd sent had gotten lost on their way to the islands, but years of waiting in vain eventually taught him that she had decided not to answer. Some nights, he wondered if she had burned them, if perhaps she had tossed them to the sea, or if she had simply forgotten about him.

The Velaryon boy grew tired as time passed and, eventually, the promise he'd made turned into ashes.

Jacaerys could only honor Orianna Thornton's name by fulfilling his duties as best as he could, but he didn't dare to ask his mother about her—not again, not ever. At least, he considered himself lucky for not having to step foot in King Landing's after leaving for Dragonstone with the rest of his family; at least, he could rest without hearing the same waves she had once controlled with her hands.

The prince, however, would soon learn that he had been mistaken, and that he would have more than one reason to think about her. She would come wrapped in thunderstorms, fire and water would clash beneath Westeros' skies, and they might not be able to keep themselves from drowning in each other's presence.

𓆩 ♡ 𓆪

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oo. ▇  ‧‧ . ༉‧₊˚  𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆  ... ❜

welcome to the first chapter!

i can't believe i'm finally showing you this project! if you follow me/have seen my edits on tiktok, you probably know that i've been working on this fic for a very long time but, as a freshman in college, i barely have time for anything other than school. still, here you have a little glimpse of this friends-to-strangers/enemies-to-lovers couple. ♡

as you can see, this is kind of a prologue before we skip seven years until jace and orianna are eighteen. i'll be writing some chapters that will develop their storyline before getting to episode 8 of the series, so i hope you like the au i'm trying to build up!
the next part will be written in orianna's point of view (and so will most chapters from here on), and i can't wait for you to really meet her character.

btw, i would like to ask your opinion on this chapter. what do you think of the length? i'll probably right longer chapters after this prologue bc that's what i tend to do, but i would hear to read your opinions. also, if you have any ideas/scenes/plots/tropes in mind for this book i'll gladly read your comments.

anyway, thank you so much for giving this fic a chance. i really hope you can enjoy it. (:

leave a comment, vote and share! ♡