Even from his room, he can hear Dragonstone bustle with an urgency new to its halls. As necessary as sleep had been, it is surreal to awaken into this change. He had probably slept no more than three to four hours; winter was coming and the days were getting shorter.
He'd been reluctant after Daemon's terrifying display on the Dragonmont, yet found himself sleeping so deeply that Rhaena now must drag him from his bed. She finally gets him to sit up. "Where's Daemon?" Jace asks, half expecting him to still be awake and accumulating insanity.
"Seeing to the defences," she answers. "Accumulating insanity."
"How did you—" Oh, he realizes. Jace had a bad habit of dropping his filter in the early mornings. He does then rise from his bed completely.
Rhaena sits on the sofa to wait as he readies himself. With both eyes fully open he can now see she's wearing his mother's red dress from her maidenly courting days, with added lace inner sleeves to accommodate the season. It's the first time she's worn it since claiming it from Baela, who'd asked for it years ago before it even fit her. To her chagrin, her shoulders outgrew the dress before she could even grow into it and Rhaena had then 'snatched it from her grasp', as Baela liked to say.
The four of them were so accustomed to each other that Jace is unaffected by Rhaena's presence in his bedchamber. I suppose that will change now, for the duration of the betrothals. He does take care to wash behind the modesty curtain, at least.
Rhaena calls to him through the curtain. "Jace, before we gather, you need be aware of what is to come."
"I know, Rhaena. I'm old enough to read between the lines." Jace usually tried to avoid reading between the lines when it came to oranges, but he suspects this is a whole different fruit they deal with now.
"I'm not just talking about our enemies, Jace. I'm talking about our allies, about our family. About my father."
He cannot even remember what he was doing. "Normally I'd be against his unhinged penchant for violence, but this is not normally, Rhaena." Not when grapes are on the table.
"Jace, no. Listen to me. There are going to be a lot of questions regarding who is really in charge with Rhaenyra gone. Traditionally, when the head of house is indisposed, the regency is filled by either the consort, the heir, or the second-in-command. Which one of the three it is tends varies with the situation and the qualifications."
"So Daemon, Rhaenys and I are in charge."
"For now. But matters become complicated when you start to disagree. We are at war; war requires decisive action and orders. Whose orders do the men follow?"
Jace splashes water on his face for the third time. "I just woke up," he complains.
Rhaena ignores him. "Father and Grandmother are both experienced leaders, and you have yet to come of age. That leaves the question between the two of them, but that does not mean you have no power here. Your preference for one or the other will be noted and will probably influence others. Your support will lend further legitimacy to whoever claims regency."
"Can I not simply support individual actions and decisions? Whichever idea presented that is the best?"
"No, because the more you're seen supporting one, the more power they'll accrue. War often involves difficult, controversial decisions, and the realm tends to prefer authoritative leaders. You need to decide now who that leader is going to be."
Jace finishes washing and steps back into view. "I'm in a sleep dress, Rhaena. Can this wait until my mind has awoken?"
Rhaena hands him his clothes for the day that she'd apparently gathered. "I had to wake up to your mess and organize it. Now it's your turn. You must stand behind Grandmother at the council."
"What?"
"I love my father… but he is not a good person. We all know this. We've all made our peace with it. But with acceptance must come awareness — you cannot cede control to him."
"Why not?"
"Because, gods forbid, should happen to Rhaenyra, I don't know if you will ever get that control back. Even if Father hands it to you, I do not know if the realm will follow."
"You... You think he would take the throne?"
"No. But my Father can be just as dangerous when he thinks he's right. He always thinks he knows best, and he hates not feeling in control. I'm not saying he'll try to depose you out of ambition, but I do think he'll overpower you as much as Otto did Viserys, and he'll think he's doing so in your best interest."
"And you think Rhaenys and Grandsire would hand it back?"
"Yes. But more importantly, the realm would hand it back."
"Why?"
"For the same reason Otto convinced Viserys to name Rhaenyra as a placeholder heir: she's a woman."
"Rhaenys hates me, and she hates my mother."
"I don't know about that."
She offers nothing further, and Jace shakes his head.
He steps away to return to the curtain and get dressed, but Rhaena is insistent. "Jace, I know Rhaenyra is your mother, but I've likely spent more time with her than anyone. If she named Grandmother her Hand, she did so for a reason. She knows what my father is like, and she knows how to best use him. That does not include putting him completely in charge. Have you not noticed the steps she's taken to ensure Father is not to be viewed as her authoritative equal? She means for him to be seen as an attack dog, not a co-ruler. She would no more name him to rule than she would name Syrax."
"I… I don't know, Rhaena." Whatever his misgivings, he trusts Daemon to save his mother. He trusts him to kill their enemies.
"The Kingsguard. Who did Father have them pledge to? You or him?"
"Mother. And me as her heir."
Rhaena nods. "Good. Should the time come they should side with you over him."
"Daemon is more familiar with them than I am, though."
"Yes, but I heard what happened. I imagine he destroyed any goodwill by threatening them with Caraxes and torture."
"On the other hand, he threatened them with Caraxes and torture."
"Fair point."
"I don't believe they would be inclined to go against him; they didn't seem to take it very personally. In fact, Daemon told them after the fact, 'nothing personal, we're good'. I believe they are too acclimated to his antics to be offended."
But… Jace had sometimes wondered how calculated Daemon was in accruing the Kingsguard's goodwill. For example, his habit of letting whichever Kingsguard had the watch when the children slept in their parents' rooms hold Dark Sister for the night.
I don't trust the children not to play with it while I'm asleep. Hold on to this for me, he'd say to the Kingsguard's delight. From that day, he'd often spy Ser Steffon and Ser Lorent arguing over who had the watch whenever they saw a storm brewing — a storm that would likely send the children running in.
"Still," Rhaena says. "We do know this. Without your intervention, the Kingsguard will answer to my father over Grandmother. As great-grandsire Jaehaerys once said: they're Kingsguard, not Handsguard."
"I see your point."
She then seems to realize she's been distracting him. "I'll leave you to get dressed. We are to convene soon, once a few essential ravens return. Be sure to stand next to us, it will go a long way to garner support."
Jace ignores that last request. "Ravens?"
"Father sent them out."
"Did he sleep at all?"
"No, I believe he wanted to take advantage of Grandmother's absence."
"You certainly attribute a lot of intention to your father's actions."
"My father may act… unpredictably, but he always acts with intention. Aside from when he loses control, which I fear he may do." She turns and walks towards the door.
"Daemon will see reason. His hatred of the Greens surely won't outweigh his love for his family."
She stops at the door and turns to him. "That's the problem, Jace. He doesn't lose control with people he hates. He loses control with people he loves."
"Mother knew that, yet still she chose him. She had her ways of dealing with him."
"Rhaenyra is not here; we'd have an easier time taming the Cannibal." She leaves him with that thought.
Baela intercepts him as he leaves his room. Her eyes are bleary and she still has pillow marks on her face, but she still addresses him with urgency. "Jace," she says as she pulls him into a corner.
Not again.
"Good morro— good day, Baela."
"I need speak with you before we convene."
"I haven't broken my fast yet," he whines. He catches himself and simmers with embarrassment. "Can this please wait?" he asks in a more polite tone.
"No!"
How is everyone so goal-oriented?
"Jace, listen to me. There's going to be a power struggle."
"So I've been told."
"It is essential that you stand behind Father."
Jace decides it's best to stick to simple prompts. "Why?"
"Because otherwise, Grandsire will be in control when he wakes."
"Grandsire is an experienced war commander." And unlike Rhaenys, and occasionally Daemon, Grandsire does not hate him.
"But they have no love for our parents, Jace. Certainly, they have an interest in seeing us wed and take the throne, but that interest does not extend to our parents. And should they perish in the war, it would leave Grandmother and Grandsire in control of the realm."
"Wouldn't that leave you and me in control of the realm?"
"Don't be daft Jace. We're adolescents. Even should we marry right away, the realm will look to whoever makes them feel secure. I would sooner that be Father and Rhaenyra."
"I would have thought you might advocate for Rhaenys, you've spent so much time with her of late."
"That is precisely why I advocate for Father. You haven't heard the things I've heard. She may try to hide it for propriety's sake, but she has no regard for our parents, or likely their lives. She's convinced that Father and Rhaenyra are responsible for near every tragedy and hardship in her life."
Jace bites back the words she might not be wrong.
Baela takes advantage of his silence and continues to implore him. "Jace, I love my grandmother, but that does not mean I trust her. Do you remember what Father said to us when we first came together? We may keep them close, but we stand together. And my Grandsire may also be your Grandsire, but Grandmother has established that she is not your Grandmother."
Even when he was too young to understand, Jace had always been hurt by her cold dismissal; learning the truth had not made it hurt any less. Grandsire knew, and he still showed him love. Seven Hells, Daemon showed him more love — even if in a strange Daemon way — than his supposed Grandmother did. Daemon had made him feel more loved than Rhaenys did.
Daemon.
Then again, Jace wondered many a time if a stranger would make him feel more loved.
Baela softens. "Jace, what would it mean for you to win this war? What is your first priority? If you could only have one thing for certain, what would it be?" She asks like she already knows the answer, because she does.
"I want my mother back."
She nods. "That is your priority. That is Father's priority. That is our family's priority. But I do not know if that is Grandmother's priority. Winning this war means something different for her than it does for us. I'm not saying she'd let Rhaenyra die intentionally, but I do think she won't put her life above all else."
"She's still on our side."
"Yes. But you didn't see what I saw. You didn't see how quick she was to abandon her."
"Mother gave you both an order."
"And I will always hate myself for following it."
"Baela."
She ignores him. "She claimed to have ordered me as my queen; but in truth, I listened to her as a child to a mother. Grandmother does not have that excuse."
Jace's head is spinning. "I don't know Baela."
"Father warned me when I went to be her ward. He said it was fine to love her, but to remember that one day we may not share the same interest. That day is today. We can love her, we can work with her, but we cannot stand behind her if it means standing against Father, against your mother."
Jace has no response save for groaning and rubbing his face. He then opts for acquiescence. "Very well, I will… keep that in mind."
"Good."
To his embarrassment, his stomach replies for him with a rumble with an audible rumble. He'd passed out right after returning to his room earlier, and the servants were likely accommodating the garrison and Daemon's chaos and had therefore brought nothing to his room. Which means he hadn't eaten since… since…
Baela takes note and dismisses him. "Go break your fast; I'll see you in the council room. Be sure to stand next to us."
"I'll… see you soon," is all he can manage.
He makes his way to the dining hall in hopes of finding a meal, and some peace. But the gods to not see fit to grant him either. "My Prince," a voice calls from behind. He turns to see Lord Bartimos. "I thought I might have a word with you bef—"
"I am… late. My apologies." Jace turns around and makes for the Main Hall instead. Hopefully, no one would engage him in political subterfuge there — only transparent warfare. That, he can handle. More importantly, there should be refreshments there as well. He decides to linger in the Hall making niceties until the last moment, so his position at the council table would be simply incidental to whatever space was left.
Quite a talent for maintaining indecision; Viserys would be proud, says the Daemon on Jace's shoulder. He wishes he had his mother for his other shoulder.
He near regrets the decision to stay safe in public when he enters. "So many vassals," Jace observes to a passerby. "How did they arrive with such haste?"
"I do believe Prince Daemon flew many of them in."
He definitely didn't sleep. Not only stayed awake while Rhaenys was indisposed, but he had likely honoured many a minor lord with personal, royal transportation by dragonback — something Rhaenys was currently unable to offer, Jace realizes. Is he making intentional moves? All of this manipulation is making him more dizzy than his hunger.
Jace can tell from the mood that word had spread throughout the castle during his short rest. But the crowd does not look to him for reassurance or direction. For that they look to Daemon and Rhaenys as they circulate. To Jacaerys, they look to with pity.
Poor boy, he hears whispered more than once.
He makes courteous talk and tries to avoid engaging anyone one-on-one, lest they too try to press him. There is a table of food at the far wall, but both Daemon and Rhaenys block his way. He quietly circles around, waiting for an opening to bypass the both of them.
Maester Gerardys emerges from the crowd. "My Prince," he whispers. "If I could speak to you privately, it is essential you cement your support for—"
"I-I'm sorry Maester, I just promised to handle something for Daemon." Jace makes for the exit, and then pivots when both of his stepsisters enter; they seem to be having a quiet disagreement. Neither would hesitate to accost him in public when they could so easily switch to High Valyrian.
"Jace," Daemon calls him over. Oh no. There remain no escape routes; he makes a slow approach.
"I hear you've had a long day," Jace says. He eyes the table of food now within reach.
Finally. Sustenance for the insufferable politicking to come.
Daemon grabs the arm Jace was about to use to reach for food to bring him in closer. Then he walks him away from the table. "Listen to me," Daemon says in High Valyrian.
A guard hurries into the room before Daemon can continue. "My Prince! Sunfyre and Vhagar have been spotted on the horizon!"
Daemon whips around. "Towards this direction?"
"Towards Driftmark."
"Fuck!"
"Daemon," Jace says. "Do we meet them?"
" Rhaenys, Baela, Rhaena, and Luke emerge from the crowd. Rhaenys steps towards Daemon. You must. Dragonstone may be safe from dragons, but Driftmark is certainly not."
"Only two of them…" Daemon ponders.
Jace has learned from last night. "Do you think it a trap?" he asks.
"Possibly," Daemon says. "The pretender is likely fool enough to meet our dragons in open battle. But at this point? This early on?" He shakes his head. "Too much of a risk for Otto's tastes, I'd imagine. Possibly."
"Daemon," Rhaenys says. "If you give me some more time I can scatter our fleet and shelter our people, but until then we are vulnerable. You must answer this."
Gerardys emerges as well. "It could be an envoy," he suggests. "It seems more likely at this point. They have yet to personally issue the demands you've reported. This show of force is likely them doing so."
Daemon rubs his face and Jace now sees that his eyes are bloodshot. "Likely…" is all he says, but Jace knows they are trapped into action. It's too early to avoid this type of confrontation and maintain legitimacy; they are not yet technically at war.
"Father," Baela says. "Our dragons are still faster and we know the area better. Should things turn, escape is an option."
"Very well," Daemon says and seemingly resigns himself. Then he summons that so familiar and forboding energy. "Jace, Luke, with me now."
Luke straightens his back when Daemon calls his name; Jace resigns himself as Daemon did, but is unable to summon his stepfather's ready-for-violence energy.
Baela moves to follow, but Daemon holds up his hand. "Not you," he orders.
"What?" she asks like she's not sure if he's serious.
"You heard what the Hightowers have planned; neither you nor Rhaena are to leave this castle. Besides, Moondancer is not bred for a dragonfight."
Seeing that he is serious, she opts for indignation. "But—"
"That's an order, Baela." He even holds up the parenting finger without shaking it off or cursing. She glares but does not press the matter further.
That's never a good sign.
"Come," Daemon orders Jace and Luke. They follow.
Mayhaps Vermax will get to break fast before I do.
More likely, Vhagar will.
"Remember, we still have the advantage of skill," Daemon yells as they reach Driftmark. "I have eyes in the city, and the Hightowers rarely fly their dragons together. They know little of flying as a unit."
"Wait," Jace calls. "Are you seriously telling us to use the power of teamwork?"
"If questioned, you never heard me say that. But should they attack, I'll lead them away while you two hide within those cliffs," Daemon points below. "Caraxes is fast enough to outpace the rest."
And then Vhagar and Sunfyre come into view.
This is it. He remembers Lae— his father's war stories from the Stepstones. Something they don't tell you, he'd once said. They all shit themselves when they die. Jace takes comfort in the fact that his bowels are likely as empty as his stomach; not that it would matter if he ends up in the bowels of Vhagar.
The Greens motion to land, and they follow Daemon to do the same — slowly and cautiously. They each claim one of two opposite hills atop a seaside cliff. Jace takes it as a good sign that Aemond clearly wants an easy escape for his slower dragon.
"What do we do?" Jace asks.
"We wait," Daemon says. "They clearly scouted a location for a stand-off, not a battle. I want to know what they intend."
Caraxes stands between Vermax and Arrax, so Jace cannot see Luke. But his voice comes through. "They're so much bigger than us," Luke worries.
"Size isn't everything," Daemon assures him.
"You keep telling yourself that," Jace retorts. He knows the situation is serious because Daemon does not take the bait.
Another dragon calls from out of sight; Jace doesn't recognize it.
"Fuck," Daemon says.
"Who is it?" Jace asks.
"Who do think?" And with his words Dreamfyre emerges from the clouds; she makes a wide circle and lands on the flatter ground opposite the sea. She keeps her distance but the message is clear: she will enter the fight if it comes to it.
Daemon makes a quick assessment. "Dreamfyre is large, but her rider is timid. Should we be forced to fight — and only if forced, Luke will engage her. Not attack, engage. Jace, you attack Sunfyre. I'll handle Vhagar."
"If we kill them, what happens to Mother?" Luke asks.
"You're being rather generous about our odds. First plan is still to flee," Daemon reminds them, his eyes never straying from Vhagar. "Nothing good would come from victory or defeat."
Vhagar and Sunfyre seem emboldened by Dreamfyre's arrival — and the chance to gauge the disparity in size. Vhagar creeps towards them, as close as she can without giving up her opposite high-ground. Whatever their plans, Jace wonders if temptation will get the better of them.
It never ends well for either side, in the histories.
"Make your move, pretender…" Daemon mumbles.
Jace still cannot see Luke, but Arrax is trembling. Daemon notices. "Luke, calm yourself. Arrax can sense it."
Daemon is not the only one who notices Luke's nerves. Vhagar turns to make eye contact with the tiny Arrax; she looks at him as if he's a sheep at supper-time. Vhagar makes an obviously feigned lunge — obvious to everyone but Arrax — and Jace hears Aemond's unhinged cackle for the first time.
So does Daemon. "He's even trying to copy my laugh. What is wrong with this whelp?"
"Daemon, stop being territorial of your least endearing qualities."
Vhagar starts to rise on her heels. Jace tenses.
"No," Daemon orders. "It's an intimidation stance, nothing more." For now, is what he leaves unsaid.
Vhagar reaches her full height and stretches her wings. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He'd never actually come face-to-face with Vhagar on his dragon.
"Daemon."
"Do not engage."
"Can we opposite of engage?" Jace suggests.
"No. Luke, stop trembling. He's doing this for your benefit. If you keep giving him what he wants he's going to push it too far. This Hightower imbecile does not know what Vhagar is capable of. Just keep your focus on Dreamfyre; accounting for her is your job."
"Daemon," Jace says. "Did you honestly just tell him to stop being afraid or we all die?"
"No, I mean stop being afraid or you two will die. I'm out of here." Jace cannot tell if he's serious. Daemon probably doesn't know either.
Vhagar flaps her wings to stay upright and lets out a roar that will haunt Jace's dreams.
"It's not her battle call," Daemon assures him. "It's a taunt."
Vhagar's 'taunt' is interrupted by a familar dragon song. Not just a song: a chorus. Jace turns to the origins where three lines move through the clouds.
Daemon knows exactly whose lines, and whose songs, approach them. "Seven Hells, Baela. Thank the gods I was born with white hair." He turns to Jace. "Several years of marriage to my daughter should solve the problem of your appearance."
"Daemon, stop quipping. Preferably forever."
Moondancer emerges from the clouds and circles wide to appraise them. She then lets out a call and is joined Tyraxes and… Stormcloud. Jace gasps; Aegon has yet to mount his dragon. Clearly, Baela decided now was the time.
The trio land not beside them to face Vhagar, but in the distance to face Dreamfyre. Moondancer perches atop the tree nearest her opponent, and her brothers take two trees behind her. She makes the same pose Vhagar had just done. But Moondancer would be but a snack to Dreamfyre, let alone Vhagar.
Daemon speaks as if he can sense his thoughts, "She's not threatening Dreamfyre, she's threatening to swarm her rider." As in on cue, Joffrey and Aegon mimic her pose — but not her ferocity.
Vhagar stops her taunts, likely nervous at this new dynamic. Moondancer acknowledges this by leading the two smaller dragons into a calmer, bird-like perch. Vhagar turns away from Arrax to look at Caraxes. Sunfyre is the most tense he's been since they landed.
The opposite Greens both shift their weight and creep up on their toes; Dreamfyre does the same in the distance.
Caraxes tenses; Jace follows his lead.
Then something falls from Vhagar's back. Sunfyre backs away, and Vhagar edges toward the cliff. They're waiting to see if we'll pursue them.
Caraxes does the dragon neck equivalent of waving them away, and they take off. For a moment Jace cannot be sure if they intend to turn and attack, but Caraxes and Moondancer both stand to let out a fearsome, combined warning roar. Jace follows slightly too late.
The Greens fly off.
They wait until the dragons disappear beyond the horizon to dismount. Luke goes to investigate whatever Vhagar had dropped, Jace turns his attention to Daemon, and Daemon turns his attention to the three small dragons.
"Baela!" he yells in his catching-Jace-playing-with-Dark-Sister-voice. "Get the fuck over here so I can yell at you up close."
Anyone else would have heard that comment from Daemon's mouth and immediately fled. But this is Baela, so she decides to, for once, do as she's bid.
Baela, Joffrey, and Aegon land next to them. Joffrey helps Aegon dismount. His saddle is no more than a horse's saddle secured with intricate ropes; but to her credit, the five-year-old dragon rider was at least secured with a harness. Jace only then notices that she's wearing his mother's old scaled riding suit; hers is still drying, he remembers. But he has a feeling she would have worn it regardless.
Daemon is seething as he strides over to Baela, but he stops short of arm's reach. That's how Jace knows he's seriously enraged. Daemon keeps his physical distance like that when he's not confident he can control himself. But she refuses to cower before him.
"What. The. Fuck."
Baela just looks at him, completely unrepentant.
"I gave you an order Baela!"
"I've already followed one order for my 'safety'. I will not make that mistake again."
He has nothing to punch, so settles for waving his arms. "Rhaenyra gave you that order because you did not belong in that fight, nor in this one!"
"Rhaenyra was my age when she did the same."
"This is different. Rhaenyra knew I was full of shit. And Rhaenyra never took a five-year-old first-time rider into a potential dragon battle."
"I am a Targaryen. The blood of the dragon runs hot through my veins! I'm not standing aside in this war."
"You will if you're locked in a tower!"
"You can try," she challenges.
Jace wonders if Daemon is actually about to kick rocks. "They will try, Baela! Why do you think Rhaenyra wanted you to have no part in this? Do you wish to join her in captivity?"
At that Baela's mask drops, and her eyes fill with tears. "Perhaps that's what I deserve."
"What?" Jace and Daemon ask in unison.
"I was right there. I should have fought for her. I should have fought for my family. I should have burned—" she chokes up.
Daemon softens and steps forward to close the distance between them. "I'm sorry tala. Do you want to talk about it?"
Baela nods.
Daemon wraps an arm around her shoulders. "Alright," he says. And then he leads her to Jace, transfers her into his arms, and pats her twice on the shoulder. "You two have a nice talk."
He walks away to join Luke.
Probably for the best, I don't think I could have handled another surprise today.
"Are you alright?" Jace asks.
"I will be. I just… They kept me away when Mother died too. I hate being left behind, or sent away, or…" Baela allows for one convulsion, just one. Then she wipes her face. "I'll be fine. And that was pretty daring, right?"
"You live up to your namesake already, Baela the Brave."
"No, I'll be Baela the Brazen. Bravery is so dull."
"I suppose brazen is a better description for flying into battle with only toddlers on toy dragons."
Baela laughs. "Someone needs to write that ballad."
"What about… are you alright with how your father just treated you?"
"Hmm? Oh. Yah. He's gotten a lot better, don't you think?"
"Are you serious?"
"Well before he was completely useless, now he's… mildly useless." Baela shrugs. "Before I knew their history, I honestly assumed his main reason for marrying so quickly was to have Rhaenyra deal with our childish emotions."
"That did not occur to me, but it also would not surprise me."
Joffrey interrupts "Baela, Jace." He points away. "The Greens left a messenger!" They follow Joffrey's pointing finger Luke and Daemon; a third form now walks next to them.
Jace rushes to meet them. "Daemon! No beating messengers!" He'd heard that story before.
How am I always both the most and least competent person in a given situation?
The day apparently does have more surprises, because Daemon does not beat the messenger. Once they are close enough Jace can see why: it's Lord Beesbury. Apparently, the Greens also did not trust Daemon not to kill the messenger.
The messenger and his escorts all wear somber expressions — and Jace soon understands why. Lord Beesbury carries an ornate wooden box. A box the size of—
The adrenaline from near-battle has worn off, and Jace once again remembers that he has not eaten since before an all-nighter and two dragon missions. More importantly, his body remembers.
Fortunately, Baela is close enough to catch him. Jace manages one last thought before the world goes black.
Daemon is going to give me shit for this.