1

Jaehaerys

The Prince's Song pulled into the harbour of Dragonstone on a dark and rainy day. Jae stood on the prow of the ship, the hood of his black cloak protecting him from the worst of the drizzle. Despite numerous visits throughout his youth, the spectacle of the castle never ceased to amaze him; the towers shaped by long lost magic into the shape of dragons, the cavalcade of beasts which guarded the crenellations: gargoyles, griffins, wyverns, manticores and so many more which were long extinct if they ever existed at all. On this day, he could barely make out the castle through the haze of the rain and the thick fog blanketing the island.

"This rain must be a sign from the gods," said his sister Rhaenys as she stepped next to him. "They shed tears for our dearly departed grandfather."

She took after her mother in looks: petite and slender, olive-skinned and dark haired. She had their father's eyes though, a purple so dark it was almost black. At seven-and-ten she was three years Jae's senior, but he stood a head taller than her.

"Tears of joy, maybe," said Jae. Like her, he took after his mother in looks. His dark hair, grey eyes and long face made him look more a Stark than a Targaryen.

Rhaenys' facade broke as she descended into a fit of giggles.

"Oh, Jae," she said around a mouthful of laughter. "You mustn't speak ill of the dead."

Jae's earliest memory of his grandfather, the Mad King Aerys, came from when he was six years old. His father had brought he and his siblings to Dragonstone to see the mad old man he called their grandfather. The old man's silver hair was matted and unkempt, the nails of his fingers and toes unclipped and yellow, his robes stained and stinking of his own filth. Jae's father presented him to the man who had once been king.

In a rare moment of lucidity, his grandfather said, "You look like your whore mother."

It was the nicest thing Aerys ever said to him.

"It's as Septa Eglantine always says," Rhaenys said, once again taking on a mask of seriousness as she mimicked the septa who had instructed her in the ways of courtesy. "'If you haven't anything nice to say then it is best not to say anything at all.'"

"If that's so then Grandfather's funeral is to be a silent affair," Jae's older brother Aegon said as he joined them on the prow of the ship. Where Jae and Rhaenys took after their mothers, Aegon was the mirror image of their father: tall and lean, hair the color of beaten silver, and attentive, dark purple eyes. None who laid eyes on him could say he was not handsome, but he carried with him a dour air which many found off putting.

"The gods will curse you both," Rhaenys said, a smile tugging at her thin lips.

Aegon leaned on the ship's railing. "Grandfather was our curse, sister, and we are finally rid of him."

They were raised on cautionary tales of Aerys the Mad King, stories of how his actions nearly shattered the realm. Every few years their father dragged them off to Dragonstone to see their lunatic grandfather in person, to make the stories real. Impossibly, the former king seemed more mad each time they visited. On their last visit he refused to see them, convinced they were assassins wearing the skins of his family.

"The world will not mourn his passing," Rhaenys agreed. The proof of that was the miniscule funeral party which traveled to Dragonstone to see the Mad King laid to rest. Aside from Jae's own family - who only made the trip at his father's insistence - no one else from his father's court had bothered to make the trip. The realm at large ignored the news of the Mad King's death. To many of them Aerys had died long ago.

"We should be happy," Rhaenys continued. "Our trips to this dreary island are at an end."

"Perhaps for Jaehaerys," Aegon said. "But I'm afraid our future is tied to this 'dreary island,' sister. Now that Grandfather's ghost no longer haunts the halls, the castle will pass to me as Father's heir. Once we are wed it will be our home until I ascend to the throne."

"That won't be for some time yet," Jae said, hoping to reassure his sister, hoping to reassure himself.

"My nameday will come in three turns of the moon," said Aegon, almost apologetic in tone. "I'll be six-and-ten, a man grown. I doubt father will wait long before seeing me take my rightful place."

"I suppose you're right." Rhaenys turned to Aegon with a grin. "Though it is always possible Mother's sense will win out in the end."

Queen Elia had made her displeasure at the idea of her son and daughter marrying more than apparent. The king and queen's marriage, strained at the best of times, seemed to be on the brink of collapse. Jae had heard whispers at court claiming the king would put his feeble wife aside in favor of a new bride. Margaery Tyrell was the popular choice amongst the gossipers, considered by many to be the most beautiful maiden in the Seven Kingdoms. She had been brought to court by her father, who extolled her beauty and virtue any time the king was in earshot.

"It's a pretty idea, sister, but when has Father ever seen sense?" Aegon turned and left. Rhaenys watched him leave. Jae kept his eyes on the castle. He felt Rhaenys's hand enclose his own, soft and delicate. She stroked his knuckles with her thumb.

"Perhaps I can convince Father to let me come with you," Jae said, only half joking. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "I can be your sworn sword. You'll be Queen Naerys and I can be your Dragonknight."

Jae kept his eyes on the castle but he could hear the smile in her voice when she spoke. "Like the mummeries we used to reenact in the godswood?"

"Only this time Ser Barristan won't be there to interrupt us." He looked down at her hand over his, marvelling at how warm it felt despite the chill of the rain. He lifted her hand to his lips and placed a kiss there.

"If only, brother," she said. He locked eyes with her. There was sincerity there. And regret. "But I made a promise."

"A promise?" It took considerable effort for Jae to keep the sulk off his face. "I remember many promises being made beneath the trees of the godswood."

"Those weren't promises. They were the foolish dreams of foolish children."

"We're scarcely older now than we were then."

She stood on the tips of her toes to place a proper, sisterly kiss on his cheek. "And are we still fools?" Before he could answer, she turned to face the deck and extended her arm. "Come, brother. It appears our father is ready to depart."

Arm in arm, they met their father as he stepped onto the ship's deck with Aegon. King Rhaegar, First of his Name, cut a figure which would make most knights envious. His high cheekbones, strong jaw and deep indigo eyes were known to make maidens swoon. Though he was approaching his fortieth year his age did not show on his face.

The ship's crew set up a gangplank between the ship and the docks. The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Arthur Dayne, and the oldest member of the Kingsguard, Ser Barristan Selmy, descended first. They made an impressive sight walking shoulder-to-shoulder in their white enameled armor, white cloaks billowing in the wind. Ser Jaime Lannister, another member of their order, greeted them on the docks. The golden haired knight had spent the last fifteen years of his life on Dragonstone guarding Jae's grandfather. He'd grown a close cropped beard since Jae saw him last.

Jae's father came next, followed closely by two more members of the Kingsguard: Ser Lyle Crakehall and Ser Rolland Storm. Jae and his siblings were next. Jae and Rhaenys walked side by side, Aegon trailed after them. Behind them came the last member of the Kingsguard to make the voyage, Ser Oswell Whent. Queen Elia, whose delicate health made prolonged journeys a troublesome affair, had chosen to remain in King's Landing with her brother, the Hand of the King Doran Martell, whose own affliction made travel a difficulty.

On the docks, they were greeted not only by Ser Jaime, but also by Aurane Waters, the castellan of Dragonstone. A score of guardsmen from Dragonstone's garrison were there as well, dressed in the black and red livery of House Targaryen.

"Welcome to Dragonstone," Aurane said with a slight bow as Jae and his siblings stepped onto the dock. He had white-gold hair which marked his Valyrian ancestry and grey-green eyes which matched the waters of the Narrow Sea. "I hope your journey was a pleasant one."

"It was, given the circumstances," Rhaenys said, all grace and courtesy.

"Your grandfather was a deeply troubled man," Aurane said, "But I mourn him still."

"As do we all," Jae said. Aegon remained silent, knowing as Jae and Rhaenys did no one mourned the passing of the Mad King.

Jae's young aunt Daenerys descended arm-in-arm with her betrothed, Jae's cousin and his father's ward, Robb Stark. Though only three-and-ten, Daenerys' porcelain skin, brilliant silver-gold hair and vibrant violet eyes had many men hailing her as one of the most beautiful maidens in the Seven Kingdoms. Her betrothed, the heir to the North, looked more a Tully than a Stark: fair skinned and auburn haired, his eyes a watery blue. The two of them descending the gangplank together was the very image of young love.

Jae's uncle Viserys was next with his wife Arianne Martell. They were a study in opposites: Arianne dark and curvaceous, Viserys pale and gaunt. Their two children - Visenya and Llewyn - had been left behind with Arianne's father.

Jae's father lead his family down the docks, flanked on either side by members of the Kingsguard. At the end of the docks carriages waited. Jae followed his father and his siblings into one of the carriages. Things were quiet as the carriage rolled through the harbor and the village beyond on the road to Dragonstone castle.

"I know you three have little love for your grandfather," Jae's father broke the silence. "But it's important to remember that the man he became was not the man he always was. He was a good man once, and a good king. That is the man we are here to mourn today. Do you understand?"

Jae and Rhaenys nodded, but Aegon asked, "How can we mourn a man we never knew?"

Father locked eyes with his heir, neither looked away. After a moment, he said, "If you cannot mourn for your grandfather, then mourn for your aunt, uncle, and I who have lost our father."

"Daenerys and Viserys have as many happy memories of the Mad King as we do," Aegon said. "As many, I'd imagine, as you have."

"You do not know as much as you think, Aegon," Father said. "A fact which I grow tired of having to constantly remind you."

"Enlighten me then, Father, share with me your fondest memory of the Mad King."

Father looked away from Aegon, casting his gaze outside the carriage's window where the bleak terrain of Dragonstone rolled by. "Your grandfather arranged the marriage between your mother and I. Without him I would not have you or your sister. Without him I would not have Daenerys or Viserys. Without him we would not be a family. Think on that, if you must, while your grandfather is laid to rest."

"And what shall Jaehaerys think upon? The grandfather and uncle he never got a chance to know because they were slain by the Mad King?"

Jae sighed and kept his gaze out the window. He saw as little sense in his father's words as Aegon, but knew well enough that arguing the point would be futile. Aegon knew as well, but didn't care. It was always this way between his father and older brother. They couldn't share a room without finding something to argue about, no matter how senseless. He only wished they would leave him out of their squabbles.

"That's enough." Father did not raise his voice, but the command carried weight. "You are the crown prince, regardless of your feelings toward your grandfather you will comport yourself with dignity and tact. That goes for you two as well," he added to Jae and Rhaenys. "Understood?"

"We understand, Father," Rhaenys said before Aegon could speak. She shot her brother a look which made it clear the matter was settled.

The rest of the carriage ride passed in a properly somber silence. They passed through the gates of the castle and disembarked from their carriage. A young maester by the name of Pylos greeted them in the castle's courtyard. Once the rest of the carriages arrived, Pylos lead the funeral party to the castle's sept. The inside of the sept smelt of incense and thick clouds of smoke hung lazily in the air. Statues depicting the aspects of the Seven stood at each of the sept's seven wall, wrought in wood and adorned with gold and jewels.

Pylos lead them to the center of the sept, where a pyre had been built. Atop the pyre laid a man Jae scarcely recognized. Death had smoothed out the angry lines of his grandfather's face, making him look more peaceful than Jae had ever seen him. He had been thoroughly cleaned to the point where he smelled nicer than any corpse ought to, his silver hair and beard brushed and trimmed to an acceptable length, his nails clipped. He looked more like a man Jae would have been happy to call his grandfather and less like a man he had dreaded being forced to see throughout his youth.

Jae's father bent to place a kiss on the dead man's brow. He turned to Daenerys, who kept her distance from the funeral pyre and the dead man it held. The look in her eyes made it clear she would come no closer. She had been a babe in arms when the Mad King was exiled to Dragonstone and had enjoyed the family trips to the island no more than Jae and his siblings. Viserys stood by his wife, stone faced.

Jae and his family stepped away from the pyre and a septon stepped forward. The septon eulogized the dead king, extolling the mercy of the Seven and preaching that only the Father Above could sit in judgement of Aerys Targaryen. Jae supposed that was true, but he couldn't imagine the Father Above being any more lenient in His judgement than men below. When the sermon was done, septas carrying torches swept forward. One torch they handed to Jae's father, and then one each to Jae and his siblings. A fifth torch was offered to Daenerys. After a moment's hesitation, during which she was given a comforting squeeze by her betrothed, she took the torch. Viserys snapped the torch out of the hand of the septa.

With his torch held high, Jae's father took the place of the septon and addressed the crowd.

"Aerys Targaryen was my father. He was the blood of the dragon, he was born of fire and unto the fire will he return."

Father placed his torch amongst the logs of the pyre, they caught quickly. Aegon stepped forward and followed his father's example and Rhaenys followed after him. When it came to be Jae's turn, Jae thought on his father and Aegon's argument during the carriage ride. As he tossed his torch on his grandfather's pyre, he filled his mind with thoughts of his family: his father, his brother, his aunt who he loved like a sister and his sister who he loved as something more. He thought of his grandfather Rickard and his uncle Brandon, slain on the Mad King's orders, and the war which followed their deaths. The Mad King had built the one thing Jae cared about the most, his family, but had also nearly destroyed it.

Viserys was next, lingering at the side of his father's pyre for a moment before dropping his torch. Daenerys was the last, only coming close enough to the burning pyre to toss her torch into the flames before retreating to Robb's side. As a family, they stood and watched as the man who nearly doomed their kingdom and their dynasty was consumed by flames. The septas raised their voices in a beautiful song. Not a single tear was shed. As the fire grew, the funeral party departed. In the end, only the silent sisters were left to watch over the burning corpse of the Mad King Aerys.

A modest feast awaited them in Dragonstone's great hall, but Jae found he didn't have much of an appetite. It was perhaps the quietest feast he had ever been a part of. He wanted to ask his father for permission to leave early but knew it would be seen as improper. After the last course was served, the king gathered his children and lead them from the hall. Shadowed by the white cloaks, they made their way to Aegon's Garden. The state of the garden shocked them all.

"This garden was planted by Queen Rhaenys before the Conquest," Rhaenys said, covering her mouth.

"Your grandfather didn't care much for its history when he burnt it," said Ser Jaime.

Life once thrived in Aegon's Garden: a thick carpet of grass, wild flowers of every type emitting sweet scents, and tall trees which seemed like they would stand forever. Now, Aegon's Garden was a picture of desolation, all the vibrant colors and scents replaced with black soot and grey ash. Jae and his siblings had often sought the solitude of Aegon's Garden in their forced visits to Dragonstone. It was the only place in the castle free of their grandfather's paranoid ramblings. The rustling of leaves sounded to the Mad King like the whisperings of assassins and he refused to set foot in the garden.

"When did this happen?" Father asked.

"A week before he passed," Ser Jaime answered.

Rhaenys ran her hand along the blackened husk of a tree. The bark crumbled away beneath her fingers. "He couldn't leave this world without taking something beautiful with him."

Father sighed. "My father was a troubled man. The last fifteen years have largely been spent bringing the realm together after he nearly tore it apart. I thought it fitting that we should discuss our family's future on the day we laid our past to rest." He turned to Aegon. "You and Rhaenys will be married in three turns of the moon, after your sixteenth nameday. Henceforth, you will take your place as the Prince of Dragonstone."

Aegon shot Rhaenys a pointed look which she pointedly ignored.

Father turned his attention on Jae. "Jaehaerys, when your sixteenth nameday comes you will marry Margaery Tyrell."

Jae was taken aback. "I will?"

His father nodded. "Lord Tyrell and I settled on the arrangement just before news of your grandfather's passing reached the capital. We thought to delay the announcement until after the funeral."

The daughter of the Lord of Highgarden forced to settle for the Bastard Prince? Oh how the little birds at court will titter over that development, Jae thought bitterly.

"Congratulations, Jae," Rhaenys said. "It is a good match."

"The arrangement must have come at quite a price," Aegon said, blunt as ever.

Rhaenys shot a glare at her brother, but Jae couldn't summon any anger at Aegon's words given their veracity. As a legitimized bastard and last in the line of succession, he was not an attractive match for the only daughter of a Lord Paramount. His father must have paid quite a price indeed to get Mace Tyrell to agree to the match.

"Lord Tyrell was more than happy to marry his daughter to a prince of the blood and finally unite our families," Father said. No one was convinced.

"Thank you, Father," Jae said, because he didn't know what else to say. It was a strange thing to have your future laid out before you.

Father inclined his head. "The future of our family and the future of our realm lies not in marriages and alliances, however." He signaled and Aurane Waters stepped forward, carrying a wooden chest. Jae had not seen the castellan arrive in the garden. He set the chest before Jae's father. Father leaned forward and placed both hands on the lid of the chest. "The future of our family lies in its past."

He undid the clasps of the chest and opened the lid slowly. Inside lay three eggs, each as big as a man's head. Their scaled surfaces were a vibrant array of multiple colors; one black with scarlet swirls, another cream streaked with gold, the last jade flecked with bronze.

"Dragon eggs," Rhaenys whispered.

"One for each of you," Father said with a nod.

Jae found himself drawn to the eggs. He reached out and touched one. It was cold and felt like stone.

"They're fossils," Aegon said, unimpressed.

"They are your destiny," Father said. "The dragon has three heads."