Ambers || Jacaerys Velaryon

28. Jacaerys

"I see your sword has found company with Sara," Cregan says from beside Jace. He's been sitting back, quietly surveying the hall, taking stock of his people as the steady hum of conversation blends with the clatter of tankards and the crackling of fire.

Jace follows his gaze, a small smile tugging at his lips as he watches Miara in quiet conversation with Sara. Miara chuckles at something the frail woman says, her expression friendly. They seem comfortable together-- something Jace is grateful for. He doesn't want Miara to feel isolated here. They know so few people, and those they do have a rapport with only seem to acknowledge him. He's thankful that someone at least takes Miara into consideration without crude taunts, if only for one night.

Miara may claim to enjoy her solitude, but Jace doubts it in moments like these-- when he sits among an array of nobles while she stands idly by, forgotten.

"Is Sara not someone worthy of her company?" Jace asks, genuinely curious. He finds he doesn't care much about the answer, as long as the young woman makes Miara feel like she belongs. She seemed nice enough.

Cregan's lips twitch with a knowing curve. "Sara has been loyal to my House for years and is a trusted companion of my own. Perhaps it's her who should be cautious of Miss Ambers."

Jace's smile fades, a wary edge creeping into his voice. "And why do you say that, my lord?"

Cregan takes his time, reaching for his tankard and sipping his ale slowly. His blue-grey eyes study Miara from afar, as though weighing her on a scale Jace doesn't quite understand.

"Southern rumors drift north eventually," Cregan mutters. His words may be cryptic to someone who didn't know Miara and her history with his family, but Jace had already grown accustomed to them over the years.

There were those who never believed Miara blinded Aemond. They considered her with disgust for such a lie. Then there were those who believed she had. They considered her with disgust for such a treason. The only ones who seemed to care for her regardless of it all were him and his closest family.

Jace arches a brow. "I didn't take you for a man who indulges in gossip."

"I don't," Cregan replies evenly. "But a man sees what he sees."

"And what is it you think you see?"

Cregan narrows his eyes, studying Miara more intently. "Her armor is well-kept, and her axes are worn, but only from training, not true combat."

Jace follows Cregan's gaze, trying to see Miara as others might, but he can't. To him, she's everything he couldn't be but needed. She was there for him during his darkest moments, his strength when he had none. She saved him. How could he see her in any other way but that?

"You doubt her," Jace states. It's too obvious to be posed as a question.

"As will others, especially here."

Cregan must sense Jace's confusion because he sighs softly before continuing.

"The north is of the old gods. My uncle taught me that a man doesn't earn respect simply because he's a knight, a lord, or any other title. Here, he earns it through his actions." He gestures slightly in Miara's direction. "Your sword only has her title, but no actions to her name, at least none anyone can fully believe."

Jace scoffs, clenching his chalice tighter than necessary. He tries to keep his temper in check, knowing Cregan doesn't mean his words maliciously. He's merely explaining the ways of the north, but it aggravates Jace nonetheless. He wonders how Miara has endured such doubts for so long without snapping. People always underestimated her, looked down on her, and while he and his brothers faced similar whispers, theirs had been behind closed doors-- until the Greens grew bolder, at least.