JACE

"Wake. Up."

Jace awakens from his dream of drowning to find himself on his usual sofa in the study.

Mayhaps it was all a dream, and I fell asleep guarding the world from Daemon's antics.

Daemon glares down at him looking thoroughly unimpressed. For a moment, Jace wonders if he is still dreaming, and trapped in a nightmare reliving the only other time he's fainted. He wonders if Daemon is about to say, "you could have knocked."

You said 'come,' he's nearly ready to say. And then he sees the empty pitcher Daemon holds. Apparently not even the drowning part was a dream.

Jace sits up and wipes the water from his eyes. "How long have I been out?"

"Only for the return journey. Then I dropped you here and woke you up."

"You didn't tell anyone, did you?"

"Only by hauling your dead weight through the castle. You can blame Baela's interference; I wanted to wake you outside by dropping you in the ocean. Thankfully for my back, your paternal inheritance has yet to extend to your frame."

Jace cringes. He had fainted for the second time in his life, into his betrothed arms, and been tossed over her father's shoulder like a child; he cannot imagine that will do him many favours in the eyes of Baela the Brazen.

Daemon looks as if he's thinking the same thing, and Jace decides to explain before he can be insulted. "I hadn't anything to eat since supper last night!"

"That's worse."

"How?"

"It means my daughter is soon to have a lack-wit for a husband, which is far worse than a delicate disposition. Why didn't you say something before we left?"

"I…"

Someone knocks at the door. "Enter," Daemon says. Because this family does not use the common response.

Maester Gerardys enters. "I just heard. Is he yet conscious?"

Daemon rolls his eyes. "He's fine. Apparently, he is not yet equipt to see to his own basic needs; mayhaps I can delegate his supervision to Aegon or Viserys." He turns back to Jace. "Go eat. And get changed — you're all wet."

He turns to leave but Jace calls him back. "Daemon, what was in the box?"

His stepfather's face is a mask.

"What are we to… are we to have a ceremony?"

"We haven't the time yet; we must convene immediately. Make haste."

And he's gone.

Jace is at least granted his wish of being too late to the meeting to choose between Daemon and Rhaenys. He enters while Daemon is speaking and—

No.

The Painted Table has been lit. He has not seen the table lit since the fateful day their family agreed to use the word enter.

He ignores the formalities and takes a place at the middle of the table — equal distance between Daemon and Rhaenys. He pointedly avoids eye-contact with the former — he understands.

Rhaenys occupies the end nearest the entrance and is flanked by Lord Beesbury and Rhaena — who still wears his mother's dress. Rhaena shoots him a disapproving look when he passes by. Baela, not to be outdone, is still wearing Rhaenyra's riding suit. Luke stands at Daemon's other side, and all three gesture for him to continue forward.

Jace plants his feet.

Gerardys stands at Daemon's end of the table. Jace is not surprised, Daemon and the Maester spent many an evening together, sharing and discussing the Valyrian texts. "We already have declarations from Celtigar and Staunton, Massey, Darklyn, and Bar Emmon."

"My Lady Grandmother was an Arryn," Luke says. "The Vale will not turn cloak against their own kin."

Lord Bartimos also speaks from Daemon's end. "Riverrun was always a close friend to your brother, My Prince."

"Lord Grover is fickle and easily swayed," Rhaena warns them. "We must ensure he's swayed in our favour."

Daemon is unconcerned. "The Tully army is small compared to their bannermen, and they are too far away for what I intend." He turns to Gerardys. "Send them a reminder of how easy it would be to depose them, should they turn cloak. But do not waste further time pursuing their allegiance."

Jace is too uncertain of what was covered before his arrival to speak up, so he assumes the task of moving the table's allegiance markers. The men around him seem reticent to touch the glowing table without being assured it was safe. Jace sincerely regrets how he came by his own assurance of that safety.

"What of Storm's End and Winterfell?" Ser Steffon asks.

"There has never lived a Stark who forgot an oath," says Lord Bartimos. "And with House Stark, the North will follow."

"I know Lord Borros Baratheon," Baela says. "He will need to be reminded of his father's promises."

Jace reaches for something to say. "What news of my Grandsire?"

"Lord Corlys has landed at Dragonstone," Rhaenys says. "His fever has broken." Luke sighs with relief, but Baela and Daemon exchange looks.

Rhaena then asserts that the Lannisters and Westerlands are a lost cause. Daemon agrees. "They are too distant to matter, at least." Daemon says. "Our priority should be the armies east to Raventree Hall."

Rhaenys turns to Lord Beesbury. "I suppose it's too much to hope that they allowed you to bring your ledgers?"

"Correct. I can speak for the fact that they do not want for coin. But I did hear of their plans to divide it for safe-keeping." He continues into a report of the Crown's finances.

Rhaenys is appalled. "Half the monthly tariffs for a bronze bust? My house has bled to secure that income."

Even Daemon takes offence. "And Otto accused me of being a spendthrift?"

Lord Bartimos can no longer contain himself. "Pray forgive my bluntness, Your Highnesses, but talk of men and coin is moot. Your cause owns a power that has not been seen in this world since the days of Old Valyria: Dragons." He was obviously not witness the size disparity

But Lord Beesbury was. "From what I have seen… that would not be a prudent course of action, My Lord. They have Syrax and Meleys locked away. And they have Vhagar. I had the displeasure of mounting her — the wind from her wings could propel a fleet."

Daemon nods. "Mayhaps Caraxes and Vermax could bring down Vhagar. Mayhaps just Caraxes, if I'm feeling desperate. But to avoid mortality on both sides, I would need Syrax or Meleys to be confident."

"That leaves us with a problem," Rhaenys says. "To amass armies or fleets in the open would leave them vulnerable to dragon fire; we cannot risk being drawn into a fight for the skies."

"Agreed," Daemon says. His tone straddles the valley between tentative and suspicious. Jace kicks himself for thinking of the word straddle in this room.

After my investiture, I'm having this castle scrubbed from top to bottom..

Rhaenys seizes the chance his agreement has given her. "We need not actually engage them in battle — not on the ground, nor in the skies. We must simply create a front of strength and secure the popular support. Once the realm has ruled in our favour, we can offer terms for the Greens to surrender without bloodshed."

Daemon's face makes it clear their moment of agreement is over. "And how long do you think that might take, should it happen at all, Rhaenys?"

She does not answer.

Daemon goes cold. "Are you not aware of the time constraints we work with? I am already inclined to mount their heads on spikes, but should the moon turn whilst the Greens still hold my wife… I will burn Oldtown to the ground."

"Daemon," Jace warns. Often, he is uncertain of how serious his stepfather is; this time, Daemon's face leaves little room for doubt. From the expressions that range from terrified, to anxious, to intrigued, Jace can tell no one else holds those doubts either.

"Very well," Rhaenys says. "If not through diplomacy, how do you wish to resolve this?"

"I've been planning for this day, just not this situation," Daemon admits. "But no matter, I have another way forward. We amass our allies in the shadows, wherever is protected from dragonfire. We free Rhaenyra and the dragons using my… resources, then storm Kings Landing with everything we have. But first we wait, we wait for them to send their ravens affirming Rhaenyra as heir."

Gerardys considers. "And you truly believe they won't turn against their own code when it goes against them?"

"No, but forcing them to do so gives me more justification for burning Oldtown to the ground."

"Daemon," is all Rhaenys says.

"Fine. The harbour, the Sept, and the beacon. Your husband would call it an acceptable compromise."

"I am not my husband."

"That much is clear. Corlys understands when violence is needed. Avoiding bloodshed using the implicit threat of bloodshed requires having the most power. We don't have the most power at the moment. And when you don't, actual bloodshed is all you have."

"Which is why we need more support."

"If I may, your Highnesses," Ser Lorent interrupts. "We have yet to even hear their official terms. I know not even what their justification is. Might Lord Beesbury deliver the message he was entrusted with?"

Lord Beesbury looks very much like he does not wish to deliver the message. But Rhaenys does. "Thank-you, Ser Lorent, for that reminder. It is so easy to forget who has knowledge of what in all this chaos." She looks to Daemon, who refuses to react to whatever she might be implying.

Daemon speaks as if the whole affair is beneath him. "Very well, get on with it."

Lord Beesbury sputters. "I- I- I." He'd likely overheard enough to know what he'd have to say in front of Daemon.

Daemon loses his patience. "Oh for fucks sake. Marbrand?"

"Yes, My Prince." Ser Lorent takes the scroll. "Let it be known that this proclamation will be sent throughout the realm on the morrow; we will expect your answer by then."

Daemon waves his hand. "Just give us an overview, then skip to what we need."

"Very well." Ser Lorent reads ahead for a time. "Boring religious jargon… long-winded introduction… ah. Upon examination of evidence and testimony, it is the collective and impartial interpretation by the combined wisdom of both Faith of the Seven and the Citadel, that the following—"

"To what we actually need," Daemon reiterates.

"Right. That the three heirs sired under the duration of the unconsummated marriage between Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and Ser Laenor Velaryon, were conceived outside the bounds of holy matrimony, and are in effect illegitimate and disqualified from the succession of both House Targaryen and House Velaryon. It is the judgment of the collective wisdom of the Realm that these children should henceforth be referred to as such."

"What?" Luke exclaims.

Daemon helps. "That's pretentious, evasive Oldtown speak for calling you bastards."

"By what right?" Jace demands. "The King affirmed our place in the succession as his last order."

"It shouldn't even matter," Rhaena says. "Jace's inheritance comes from his mother; there is no disputing she gave birth to him."

"Rhaena," Daemon says. "Stop whining about the 'rules.' You sound like a Hightower. They do so because they wish to; they justify it after. But we are not burdened with that last part, take comfort in that, at least." He turns to Ser Lorent, who clearly regrets raising the issue. "Continue."

"That—" Ser Lorent chokes on his words.

"Spit it out. I won't have your tongue for reading words on a page."

"That the union between Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and Prince Daemon Targaryen did take place under false pretenses and was made possible only by the highest of crimes. That, by the collective interpretation of bountiful evidence and testimony, Prince Daemon Targaryen did organize the assa—"

"You've made it this far," Rhaenys encourages him in a dry tone.

"… Prince Daemon Targaryen did organize the assassination of the would-be King-Consort: Ser Laenor Velaryon, and that he did so to claim the hand and crown of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen."

Everyone looks nervously to Daemon, who, aside from Rhaenys, seems to be the only one in the room who is not nervous. "Just read the fucking message."

"That Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen had no contribution or knowledge of the plot to assassinate the would-be King-Consort, and was not complicit in his death."

That's… something, at least. Jace says as much, but no one acknowledges him.

"That in light of the Princess's innocence regarding the crimes surrounding her false union, it is neither just nor wise to condemn her to such a union."

Daemon makes a disinterested motion with his hand for Ser Lorent to continue.

"That, by the authority of the Faith of the Seven and the Grand Septon, the marriage between Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and Prince Daemon Targaryen is hereby annulled, that any issue sired by the union is henceforth illegitimate and excluded from the succession."

Daemon is no longer disinterested. "Those cunts could have granted me my annulment at any time! It was only in their own interest they would not release me from the Bronze—"

Jace stops him before they lose focus. "Daemon." He nods for Ser Lorent to proceed.

"That Prince Daemon Targaryen is summoned to King's Landing to answer for his crimes against the realm, and the royal family. And…"

They all know what remains.

"And that Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen is blameless in all wrongdoing, and is henceforth permitted to remarry."

"Any other 'rulings'?" Daemon asks.

"Just… official language. And the demands."

"This does simplify matters though," says Rhaenys. "All we need do is challenge the accusation levelled against you and provide counter-evidence. That should not be very difficult, should it not?" She does her dragon neck maneuver towards Daemon.

He glares back at her. "The question of 'truth' is irrelevant. If the realm chooses to believe I am guilty, they will continue to do so regardless of what I say. I will not lower myself to appeal to their motivated reasoning."

Gerardys actually challenges him. "The Princess makes a good point. We need to garner the sympathy of the people. It is essential Prince Daemon be seen as the grieving father and husband."

Ser Steffon joins in. "And we need an explanation for Ser Laenor's death. Hopefully, one linked to the Greens."

"We need to find out what evidence they have," says Luke.

Daemon hits the table with such force that several of the markers topple over. "Enough," he snaps. "This topic is closed for discussion. Believe what you will, but I will not stand here pleading my innocence."

Rhaenys argues. "This is the best way to—"

"Marbrand, continue."

"Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey are to leave for Essos within a fortnight, but they must declare their intention to leave on the morrow. In the interest of sparring the royal family condemnation that accompanies kinslaying, Prince Daemon is generously offered the opportunity to accompany them. He may also choose to have his two sons raised at Court."

"I would sooner feed them to the dragons."

"In addition, either Baela or Rhaena Targaryen must present themselves at Court. The Princess Rhaenys will be released upon their mar— Wait."

Released?

Everyone turns to look at Rhaenys, as if to confirm that she is, indeed, present.

Everyone turns back to Ser Lorent. "Read that again?" Rhaena asks.

"It says the Princess Rhaenys."

Rhaenys turns to Lord Beesbury. "When was this written?"

"The demand message was finished mere moments before we left. They even needed to powder it."

"I highly doubt they simply didn't notice she was gone," Jace says.

Rhaenys looks thoughtful. "She did say she would come up with something."

Jace, Daemon, Baela, Rhaena, and Luke all look to each other. "Wringys!"

Everyone else stares. "What?" Rhaenys asks.

Luke tries to help. "You know, because people wring mops so—"

Either Baela or Daemon kicks him under the table.

"What Luke means," Daemon says. "Is that Rhaenyra is intentionally fooling them into thinking you're still imprisoned with her. You said your room had a secret exit? I imagine she wants to keep that option open to herself upon her recovery."

"But how have they not noticed?" Ser Lorent asks.

"They've locked away many of the servants," Lord Beesbury says. "It's likely they don't trust anyone to attend to the Princesses as of now."

"Interesting," Ser Steffon muses. "The question is, who can we trust in the palace?"

"We cannot know for now," Daemon says. "Anyone smart will play along until we take the city."

"What of Ser Harrold?" Ser Steffon asks.

"They locked us both together for a time," Lord Beesbury says. "Then they separated us. I do not know what is to happen to him."

"They might spare him," Rhaenys says. "Should he conduct himself wisely. The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard is an important symbol of legitimacy."

"He's dead," Daemon says. "Or at least in the black cells. That man can not play the game well enough to survive."

Ser Steffon is the first to realize what this means. "That leaves Ser Criston in charge… Gods be good, she's not safe. And I had you antagonize him even further…"

"Don't do that to yourself," Daemon uncharacteristically comforts him. "I would have done it even if I'd won; it was really funny."

"This does present us with an opportunity," Rhaenys says. "We can ask them to release Meleys as a gesture of goodwill. To ensure they do not kill... me. For then they would need to fear Rhaena claiming her. We might suggest Meleys has poor health in confinement and that it could extend to her rider?"

"And what happens when they decide to consult you?"

"Rhaenyra had managed so far. I imagine she's already come up with a lie regarding my health. She is very skilled at explaining disappearances."

"What if something goes wrong?" Daemon demands. "They'll take it out on her! And it will subject her to increased supervision. What if she's working on a plan of her own? She's doing this for a reason; we need to leave it be.".

"But with Meleys… we would have the skies, Daemon. They wouldn't dare meet us."

"More importantly, you would have your dragon."

Rhaenys gives him a cross look. "Enough of us are separated from our dragons, Daemon."

They have another silent challenge.

Ser Steffon steers them back. "Our first priority should be to secure the release of Princess Rhaenyra." He says this like it's no question, but all the Targaryens exchange looks. Even Daemon.

"How did Maegor ensure the cooperation of the Black Brides?" Daemon prompts.

"He held their children captive," Ser Steffon answers.

"But they have none of her children for hostages, which means Syrax is their leverage — or will be soon. If she escapes at this point without Syrax… We need to leave that choice with her. Or give her the chance to work something out. But any rescue on our part must be all or nothing."

"Daemon is right," Jace says. "My mother is likely waiting to try her own escape when she deems the time right. Asking for Meleys carries too many risks; I will not deny her that chance for a plan that will likely backfire on her the most."

Lord Bartimos has another concern. "But we do need another dragon in this fight to balance the scales."

"If you are so set against Meleys," Rhaenys says to Daemon. "What of Seasmoke?"

Daemon's words are only for her. "What of Seasmoke, Rhaenys?"

"That would also give our side enough leverage to maneuver in the open, would it not?"

"Possibly, but Seasmoke is not an option. He did not take to Rhaena." He gives Rhaena a sharp look.

Rhaenys remains undeterred. "And there's no other options that come to mind?"

"Vermithor and Silverwing seem determined to refuse a single rider; they must be claimed together. I am not charging my son barely past infancy with claiming one of them. Rhaena will have to wait until he's grown."

"But there is another option, is there not? Rhaenyra told me as much."

"Told you as much about what?"

Rhaenys hesitates only a moment. "Addam."

"I know many Addams. You will have to be more specific."

Rhaenys does not appear to have more specifics. "The Addam I have been entrusted to ask for."

"I do not know what you are talking about," Daemon says. But it comes off like a warning.

Rhaena sighs. "She means Grandsire's bastard, Father. The Sea Snake, that is."

"Ah yes," Daemon says. "That Addam. Addam of... Volantis. Corlys's bastard."

"Corlys's bastard?"

"Corlys's bastard Addam."

"I have no such knowledge of my Lord Husband siring a bastard."

"Nor does he. It was… before your time together. We happened upon him by chance in Volantis. The very image of his father. You really should have accompanied us."

Jace is suspicious. But Luke is confused. "I don't reme—"

Someone kicks him, Jace suspects

"Yes," Rhaenys says. "I heard that trip was very eventful."

"He's a sailor," Rhaena says. "He had a job that brought him here a few years ago. He tried to introduce himself to Grandsire, but he had already departed for the Stepstones."

Daemon looks both impressed and annoyed. "Yes… but he did happen upon Seasmoke. They took quite a liking to each other."

Rhaenys crosses her arms. "And when, pray tell, did Seasmoke bond with this mysterious bastard?"

How Rhaena is so informed, Jace has not a clue. "Father thought a spare rider might be useful, and that Addam may wish to meet his father, and that Grandsire — having outlived his children, might appreciate a new connection. But Grandsire was not to be found." She turns to Daemon. "Don't you remember that day, Father? When I dislocated my shoulder trying to mount Seasmoke? You broke your wrist? Seasmoke did not take to me, but he took well enough to Addam."

Jace does recall when they came home that day. Or rather, when Rhaena and his mother came home that day.

"Of course," Daemon says. "But we thought it… imprudent while Corlys was away. So we promised to summon him upon the Sea Snake's return."

Rhaenys sheds her disinterest for incredulity. "You were concerned with being imprudent?"

"I have layers, Cousin. But this story is irrelevant. It would take far too long to summon Addam, and I have other means of freeing Rhaenyra." Daemon looks around the room suspiciously. "If we can get her and the dragons out of King's Landing… then we mass our attack."

"It may take more time," Rhaenys concedes. "But it will pay off."

"But it will not pay off in time. I'd prefer to avoid the scenario where that pretender rapes my wife." Everyone flinches. They've likely all been thinking it, but no one had dared speak it.

Daemon continues, looking thoughtful. "Rhaenyra can handle herself, but she should not have to."

"Yes," Rhaenys says. "She's very good at keeping psychotic men on a leash by telling them exactly what they want to hear."

Everyone turns nervously to Daemon, who is very much finished with this conversation. He takes a moment to compose himself, then smiles at Rhaenys. "But additionally, they hold a disadvantage regarding the legitimacy of a royal marriage. We hold Dragonstone."

"Why does that matter?"

"No royal union is truly binding until you've had your second consummation."

"The second consummation?"

"You know, Fire and Blood. First consummation is blood, in theory. Then fire. They cannot do that without Dragonstone.

"You are making up rules, Daemon."

"All rules are 'made up.' The question people forget to ask is, do they 'make sense?' And it is true that's it's tradition."

"What are you talking about?" Rhaenys sounds actually confused now, rather than combative. Jace, unfortunately, is not confused about where this is going. He longs to leave through the door he'd once opened so naively.

"Unwritten rule: No royal Targaryen marriage is complete until you've lit the Painted Table…"

"Daemon," Jace warns.

"And fucked on it."

Rhaenys sneers. "That is disgusting and inaccurate."

"Aegon fucked both his wives on this table. Every monarch couple did. Jaehaerys and Alysanne, even Viserys and Aemma. I personally have fucked three women on this table." Everyone backs up in disgust.

"Is there a point to this?"

"Yes. Aemond will be no true King Consort, no true King at all likely. But Rhaenyra and I… our marriage is truly binding."

Multiple groans from all sides of the table beseech him to stop.

"Daemon," Rhaenys snaps. "Stop trying to provoke me."

He smiles at her. "I will if you look me in the eye, and tell me you've never fucked the Sea Snake on this table."

A few moments of silence pass before she answers. "I believe we can adjourn this meeting; the Prince has had a long day."

Everyone eagerly abandons the room, save for Jace and Rhaena. He stops at her spot around the table. "What just happened?" Jace asks.

"Nothing, Jace. We accomplished nothing! Father and Grandmother argued, Grandmother pushed an issue Father doesn't want to address, so he pushed her right back into a corner."

"Over Seasmoke?"

"Among other matters. And now he's going to run off conducting his own secret murderous plan. He'll win over all the men-at-arms whilst Grandmother wins over the officials — and then we'll be paralyzed."

"I'm starting to see that. But Rhaena, why have you never spoken of Addam?"

She crosses her arms and leans against the table. Brave girl. "I've never heard of 'Addam.' I made an educated guess."

He tries to read her. "That implies that you're working with information."

She looks away. "I tried to claim Seasmoke; it didn't go well, to say the least."

"I still don't understand."

"Understand this," she looks back to him for effect. "My Father loves control, but he cannot control himself. Especially when he's scared."

He already knows what he need do. "Alright, I'll talk to him."

"Jace, I do not think that's a good idea."

"No, I can handle this."

Rhaena seems unconvinced.

Someone knocks at the half-open door.

"Enter," they call.

Luke emerges from the hall.

"The door was open," Jace says. "What's your problem?"

He cracks a sly smile. "I didn't know who was in here, and you can never be too careful. You really need to learn that."

"Please," Jace begs. "I need no more reminders today."

"What is it Luke?" Rhaena asks.

"The priests um… arranged everything while we were convened. It's time."

Flames fade to embers, and people start to take their leave.

Jace remains at Daemon's side by the pyre — he wants to be sure he won't slip away. No one stop to offer condolences; Daemon scares them all away with his stone expression. He must know that Jace intends to follow him, so he remains until they are the last two.

Jace waits until the priests take their cue to leave them alone. "You need to cooperate with Rhaenys."

Daemon refuses to look away from the pyre. "I need do nothing."

"If we can save my mother without bloodshed—"

"We cannot. Our deaths or theirs. One became inevitable the moment they chose to seize the thrown. Rhaenys has never been to war, but I have. Deterrence never lasts."

"Daemon, she's not wrong. If we can appeal to the realm... There may be no need for blood."

"The lords of the realm are fickle twats. They care not for the realm; they care for their positions. We cannot bring them to our side with talk of fairness. That delusion lost Rhaenys the throne, yet she seems so eager to repeat her mistakes."

"So what then?"

"Luke delivers my instructions as we speak."

"Do I want to know?"

"First we rain blood — in the shadows. Once we've extracted Rhaenyra and the dragons, we rain fire."

"So… you're to answer accusations of kinslaying and assassination with… kinslaying and assassination."

Daemon glares into the flames. "They reap what they sow."

"That will not stop a war."

"I'm not interested in stopping. I'm interested in winning."

"Do you truly believe this is what Grandsire would want?"

Daemon scoffs. "Your Grandsire couldn't even decide what he wanted."

"He would want us to remember our duty to the realm."

"My duty is to protect his daughter and crush rebellion."

Jace looks around to ensure they are alone. "You know our duty reaches beyond personal ambitions."

Daemon finally turns from the fire. His eyes are bloodshot — be it from grief, fatigue, or the smoke, Jace is not sure. Likely all three.

Jace moves in closer so that he might whisper. "A Song of Ice and Fire."

"What?"

"Mother told me before she had Aegon, she was worried you paid it no regard."

Daemon does not move. He does not even blink.

Jace realizes it had been near two decades, and tries to prod his memory. "The coming war against the darkness in the North, The Conqueror's Dream. Grandsire passed it to her when he named her h—"

Jace never even sees his hand. He claws desperately at his throat, but Daemon was correct earlier — it would be some time before he grew into his father.

Daemon wrenches his face upwards. There's an inferno behind his eyes, one he clearly wishes to pass to Jace. "My brother... was a slave to his omens and portents. Anything to make his feckless reign appear to have purpose."

Jace wants desperately to tell him that he cannot pass his out-of-control fire to him, not whilst his own flames choke and die out. But you cannot reason with fire. So the fire tries to reason with him. "Dreams didn't make us kings," says the fire. "Dragons did."

He pushes on Daemon's chest, but fire cannot be pushed away. Daemon just stares at him, waiting for the flames that will not catch.

"Father?"

"Jace!"

Daemon drops him at the sound of his daughters' voices. Jace falls to his knees and gasps.

"Gods be good," Baela exclaims. She rushes to Jace and helps him up.

Daemon just stands there. He finally blinks, many times in succession, as if emerging from a trance. And Jace can tell, he's only now processing what he's done.

Daemon takes a step back, and Rhaena places herself between them. "What is wrong with you?" she demands.

He says not a word; he holds his eyes wide for a far different reason now. And then he turns on his heel and stalks off.

Rhaena turns back to Jace. "Are you alright?"

"I…" Jace rubs his throat.

"What was that?" Baela asks.

"A problem," Rhaena warns. "But still, this cannot get out right now. You understand?"

He does. "Unfortunately."

"What did you do?" Baela demands.

It takes two attempts for Jace to answer. "Excuse me?"

"What did you do that… that made him snap like that?"

"I stood here while he was angry? I don't know!"

"Well, clearly something happened!"

"Baela, enough," Rhaena scolds her. "Let's go inside; we cannot have him representing us right now."

The shock is wearing off, and into its place floods… betrayal. Hurt of a non-physical kind. For all his obvious faults, he had truly never thought Daemon capable of hurting him. He looks to Rhaena and she looks back with understanding. She did not happen upon us by accident, he realizes.

That's the problem, Jace. He doesn't lose control with people he hates. He loses control with people he loves.

They leave the pyre's last embers to the stars.