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“I am truly sorry Rhaenyra,” Viserys wheezes out.
Rhaenyra just looks away, tears welling in her eyes. It has been one year since she fled to Dragonstone and married Daemon. Her belly is once again swelled with child, but now she can be truthful about who the father is.
Then, she received a summons to Kings Landing, mandated by the King himself. She was to present her and her three children in front of the court. Someone had heard her say the true parentage of her three first born, a spy in her own island. Now, the crown was unstable. Cries of outrage were heard throughout the realm. And the King was but a servant of the people, so as much as it pained Viserys, he had to act.
He had presented her with an ultimatum. She could legitimize her three first born as Targaryen, but lose her position as heir. The line of succession would go through Aegon. She and her children would remain with their status as royalty. Or, she could disinherit her children. They would neither carry the Targaryen nor Velaryon name, and wouldn’t be granted the chance at the Strong name either. They would be given the name Waters, be stripped of all their titles and lands. Rhaenyra would still be heir, and the line of succession would still pass through her. The babe in her belly would be the future heir to the Iron Throne.
(She knew her father fought hard to even be able to give her these chances. She knew worse things could have happened. She still doesn’t like the choices she’s been given.)
The thing is, Rhaenyra knew there was one choice she wished to make, and the one choice she had to make.
She wanted to keep her children close, Jacaerys was a boy of one-and-ten, Lucerys nine and little Joffrey was barely four. They were still young, and their lives would be irrevocably changed forever no matter the decision she takes.
But she was a Targaryen, more so than her half brother Aegon. Her father had presented her with the Song of Ice and Fire, Aegon’s dream. She knew deep in her bones that the Prince that was Promised would descend from her, was told by the Valyrian gods in her dreams. So she had to sit on the throne for the world of men to survive.
“If they are given the name Waters, what would become of them?” Rhaenyra turns to ask Viserys. “What would we do to ensure that they live a good life?”
Viserys sighs and shakily stands up, leaning heavily on his cane. He slowly walks towards Rhaenyra, coming to a stop in front of her. “We could keep them in Kings Landing, or in Dragonstone if you wish. They would live simple lives, not one of riches but it would be good for them. It pains me to do this to them, as they are my grandchildren, but I am King, Rhaenyra. And you are to be Queen. As rulers, there are times where we will have to make difficult decisions. We might not like it, but it will be for the betterment of the Realm.”
Rhaenyra inhales sharply. “You talk about this as if it is a simple issue of passing a law or–or deciding which trade routes shall be closed! No, father! These are my children! The humans I housed in my womb for nine moons and pushed out into this world! They are the only thing that I–,” Rhaenyra stops. Shaking her head, she leaves Viserys’ side and walks towards the other end of the room, rubbing her hands together. “It will be as if I’m betraying them. What kind of mother would I be, if I chose some throne over my children?”
But, something in Rhaenyra’s mind whispers, it is not just some throne, is it? It is something that was promised to you, something you’ve spent the better part of your life preparing for. Something that is rightfully yours.
Before Viserys could respond, Otto walks in. He bows to them both. “Your Grace, Princess. The council has been summoned. It is small, like you asked for. Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys have just arrived and are in attendance. We await your verdict.”
Rhaenyra and Viserys look at each other then back at Otto. Rhaenyra walks out, making Viserys follow suit, albeit slowly. Otto is right behind them, making the two Targaryen’s unaware of his smirk.
—
“I, Viserys Targaryen, First of his name, Rightful King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm, hereby strip Jacaerys Waters, Lucerys Waters and Joffrey Waters of their royal name, titles and lands.”
Otto leans towards Viserys' side, murmuring in his ear. “And what of the dragons, Your Grace?” Although with the silence ensuing in the room, his question was heard by everyone.
Rhaenyra’s eyes widened at the question, looking at Viserys with shock. “Father… you can’t. It’s their birthright, and Vermax, Arrax and Tyraxes have been with them since birth.”
“Rhaenyra… by law, only Targaryen’s are allowed Dragons. And your boys are not lawfully Targaryen.”
With a cry, Rhaenyra turns and walks out of the room, Daemon following quickly behind his wife.
Viserys sighs, then looks at Otto. “Summon the children please, we will have to inform them.”
—
“Jace?” Lucerys asks his big brother who slams into the room. There are tears in Jacaerys’ eyes as he gathers both Luke and Joff in his arms. “Jace, you’re scaring me. What happened? Where is mother?”
“The–the King,” Jacaerys starts with a tremble, “he has declared us b–bastards. We are Velaryon nor Targaryen no more, we were decreed as Waters.”
“What?” Luke asks, shocked. He was young yes, but with the whispers following him all his life, he knew what it meant to be named Waters. “H-how? Where is mother?”
“Mother chose this,” Jacaerys says, tears streaming down his face. “She was given two choices, and she chose this. It’s what I’ve heard. But that’s not all, Luke. They want to take away our dragons. We have to go.”
“Tyraxes?” Joffrey’s meek voice pipes up. “Tyraxes go away?” The four year old asks, lip wobbly.
Jacaerys shushes Joffrey, looking at Lucerys with wide eyes. The two brothers communicate silently before coming to an understanding. “Come, let us go to the pit. We have to go, now!”
Jacaerys nudges Lucerys and Joffrey to the wall, hitting the brick that activates the secret door. As they went into the hidden passages that lead outside the Red Keep, Jacaerys mind is a whirl of thoughts.
I knew this was coming, he thinks to himself numbly, my dreams warned me. They gave me the solution to escaping a life that would eventually become too suffocating and lonely. Though the solution wasn’t much better. I thought it was just a nightmare. Our mother loves—loved us. But she chose us over a throne, and now we have to leave. We’ve lost our name, everything. We can’t lose our dragonkin too.
As they reach the pit, they see their aunt Helaena seemingly waiting for them. As soon as she sees them, she runs up to them and pulls them all into a hug. This shocks them all, as Helaena was never one to like or initiate physical touch. When she pulls away, Helaena has tears in her eyes and a bittersweet smile gracing her face.
“Go,” she says softly, “the dragon keepers are busy with Dreamfyre. You must go now, before you are discovered. You cannot be discovered.” Her eyes go hazy. “The tower planned his attack, and he will stand tall. He cannot lock away what will chip at it. He who does not Burn, he who does not Drown, he who is Strong.”
Jacaerys doesn’t waste time trying to decipher what Heleana has said and instead rushes inside the dragonpit. He urges his brothers to find their dragons but before they can all move in different directions, they see Arrax, Vermax and Tyraxes seemingly waiting for them. Or, what could be Arrax, Vermax and Tyraxes if they were older and larger. Suddenly, one of Maester Gerardy’s lessons rings inside Jacaerys mind.
“A dragon, in times of great peril, can adjust itself to suit its rider's needs. It can make itself bigger, or smaller. Depending on the situation.”
“Wait,” little Jacaerys asks, “how does that work?”
“Dragon’s are magic, my young prince. They do not hold themselves to the standards and laws of men. They do what they want, when they want. Say, if you needed a ride off Dragonstone at this very moment, and your very life depended on it, would you be able to leave on your dragon, Vermax?”
“No,” Jacaerys sighs, shaking his head. “Mother says he is much too small.”
“That may be the case, but if Vermax felt that you were in great peril, and if the gods themselves willed for you to leave, Vermax would adjust. He would be bigger, stronger and more mature to be able to complete the mission that is flying you out of Dragonstone, to wherever you may need to be. Dragons are strange creatures, my prince. They are not pets, they are independent thinkers, and they chose their own actions.”
Strange creatures indeed, Jacaerys thinks.
The three young dragons are fitted with saddles that were adequate for their sizes. Jacaerys quickly helps Joffrey on Tyraxes, the red dragon rumbling slightly but letting Jacaerys near him. As soon as the youngest of them all is seated and safely secured, Tyraxes lets out a screech and scrambles out of the pit, gaining flight. Jacaerys and Lucerys quickly mount and saddle themselves on top of their own dragons, hoping to leave the pit and Kings Landing by the time anyone got a wind of where they were.
—
“The children, Your Grace!” Ser Harrold barges in, which is quite unlike the man. What is also unlike him is the way his eyes betray a hint of fear. “They are nowhere to be seen!”
Before the panic could truly set in, another Kingsguard barges into the room. This time, it is Ser Criston Cole who speaks. “There have just been sightings of three large dragons exiting the dragonpit and flying towards Essos, upon further investigation, the dragons known as Vermax, Arrax and Tyraxes have been reported missing by the dragon keepers.”
A beat.
Then,
“My children!” Rhaenyra wails, running out of the room. Daemon, Alicent, Otto, Corlys and Rhaenys are quick to follow. The Princess of Dragonstone barges into the apartments she shared with her kids and notices that her childrens’ rooms are empty. Everything was left as it was, except a wall was out of place.
“They must have left the Keep through the secret passageways,” Daemon breathes. He turns to the Kingsguard who had scrambled after them and barks out orders. “I want every dragon rider in one room and accounted for! Alert the City Watch and issue a citywide shelter in place command! No one leaves or enters Kings Landing without being thoroughly searched and interrogated. And someone call the fucking dragon keepers. NOW!”
The Kinsguard immediately run to do as told, leaving the family to try to comfort Rhaenyra.
“Why would they have flown away, unless…” Rhaenyra turns to look at Daemon with wide eyes. “They know.” She breathes. “Jacaerys was acting weirdly like a moon ago, asking me if I still loved him. I thought nothing of it, only a child asking for comfort from his mother. Now, what if he dreamed of this?” Rhaenyra bursts out crying again, sliding down the floor. “Oh my babies! I’m so sorry!”
—
“Mother,” Aemond says softly. Alicent turns towards where Aemond was, flinching slightly at the sight of her son wearing an eyepatch. It has been more than a year, yet she still expects to see Aemond’s softly lilac eyes staring at her, bright with curiosity. Now, she only sees a lone eye, lilac dimmed with sadness.
“Yes, my son?”
“Is it true?” Aemond asks, “Are Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey truly gone? Did father truly declare them bastards?”
Alicent sighs, closing her eyes. She wanted Rhaenyra to suffer for her consequences, yes. For not being a virtuous woman and birthing children out of marriage to another man. But she didn’t know her consequences would affect everyone. It had been mere hours since the boys were declared missing and the whole Keep was in uproar. The search was still ongoing, but Alicent knew it wouldn’t be up for long. The boys were stripped of their titles, now. The Crown wouldn’t waste their resources to look for three bastard boys.
“Do not worry about those simple looking boys, Aemond. Help me find your brother, gods know where he has gone now.”
—
TEN YEAR TIME SKIP
“All hail, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen. First of her name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men. Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. Her husband, King Consort Daemon Targaryen. Her children, Prince Aegon Targaryen, third of his name and Heir to the Iron Throne, Prince Viserys Targaryen, second of his name and Princess Visenya Targaryen.” Ser Harrold Westerling’s voice booms throughout the dining hall, causing it’s attendants to bow.
Rhaenyra, Daemon, ten year old Aegon, nine year old Viserys and five year old Visenya enter the room. They all sit down, opposite Alicent, Aemond, Aegon, Helaena, Jaehaerys, Jaehaera and Maelor. It was a familial supper, the one thing they kept in tradition so long after Viserys’ death. The old King may have gotten his wish, after all.
“Rhaenyra,” Alicent greets the other woman warmly. Their relationship thankfully mended itself after quite some time. The turning point was Viserys’ death three years ago, with Rhaenyra firing Otto as hand and surprisingly appointing Aemond instead.
“Alicent.” Rhaenyra smiles at her. Shen then turns to her siblings and nephews. She greets Aemond first. “Brother, how are things?”
“Very well, sister. The small council just ended a meeting about some trade route problems. Some ports seem to want to stop trading goods, but there isn’t anything we can’t solve.”
“No politics at the dinner table, please,” Daemon groans, causing everyone at the table to laugh.
Before anyone could get another word in, the doors to the dining hall slam open. Ser Harrold Westerling is seen walking in. He bows to the table and then makes eye contact with Rhaenyra.
“Your Grace, there are currently three large dragons at the edge of the city. Their riders request an audience with the royal family.”
Something like dread and hope claws itself to Rhaenyra’s throat. “What do these dragon’s look like, Ser Harrold?”
The whole table seems to hold its breath waiting for the Kingsguard’s answer. If Ser Harrold was a lesser man, he would have fidgeted under the intense stares of the Royal family. But he isn’t, so he just nods and says:
“The dragons at the edge of the city match the descriptions of the dragon’s Vermax, Arrax and Tyraxes when they resided in both the Dragonpit and Dragonstone.”
—
“How many of them do you think would come?” Lucerys asks his brother. He’s leaning on Arrax’s side, the large white dragon sitting down not unlike a dog. It’s been years since they’ve set foot in Kings Landing, and Arrax is more than likely feeling the presence of other dragon’s that aren’t Tyraxes and Vermax.
Jacaerys sighs, his gaze hasn’t left Joffrey since they landed. The youngest one of them all is just staring at Kings Landing in wonder.
“I don’t know,” He says, scratching at his jaw. There’s stubble growing already since the last time he shaved was before they made their trip to Kings Landing. “Rhaenyra Targaryen was crowned Queen three years ago, who knows what has changed.”
Lucerys just hums in response, reaching out an arm to pat Arrax’s snout.
The three boys are a sight to behold. What were “simple” features in their childhood have now made them handsome young men. Jacaerys was the tallest one of them, a man of one-and-twenty and he was easily one of the strongest looking men in Westeros. He resembled Harwin Strong in height, causing him to tower over most of the people they interacted with. His strong jaw was his most identifiable feature. His dragon, Vermax, was the largest one of the three. His red and green appearance made him look regal. He was more than likely half of the size of Vhagar herself. Lucerys had more delicate facial features, and a lean build. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t strong or tall. He was a few inches shorter than his eldest brother. The one who was more than likely going to be a carbon copy of Harwin Strong was Joffrey. At just four-and-ten, he was already as tall as Lucerys and as strong as Jacaerys. He hadn't grown facial hair just yet, but his curls were wild.
In short, Lucerys was all lean muscle, Joffrey was all bulk and Jacaerys was a mixture of both.
“I don’t even know why we’re here, waiting,” Joffrey calls out, turning to look at his brother’s with a scrunched nose. “Let’s just leave the letters and fly away.”
“And let them chase us? I’d rather not have Vermax kill another dragon.”
“Why would they chase us? We’re just bastards,” Lucerys says. “If they didn’t chase bastards who were children and in danger, they wouldn't chase adult bastards who can take care of themselves.”
“You may be right, but we’re adult bastards with valuable information to the Crown, Luke. We’re important right now.”
Before any of them could respond, Vermax let out a warning trill. This causes Arrax and Tyraxes to straighten up and also let out trill’s of their own. Their wings are pinned back and their eyes are trained on the approaching entourage.
“Time to face the music,” Jacaerys mutters as he straightens up and walks in front of Vermax, his brothers doing the same. Their faces remain blank, not betraying their emotions or racing hearts.
“Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen. First of her name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men. Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.”
She isn’t alone, Jacaerys can see Prince Daemon, who he assumes are Princes Aegon and Aemond, if going by the eye patch is anything, Princess Helaena and the Dowager Queen Alicent.
The three brother’s give a stiff bow, not wanting to get in trouble for not giving the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms respect. After they all straighten up, there’s a tense silence waiting for them. Jacaerys can see that the Queen is looking at them with hope and tears in her eyes while everyone else is looking at them with thinly veiled suspicion. Except for Helaena, whose gaze has gone hazy. Jacaerys can sympathize with her, the gods don’t always sometimes wait until you’re asleep to talk to you.
Clearing his throat, Jacaerys gives a small bow again and gestures towards his brothers. “Your Graces,” his deep voice booms throughout the small clearing they stood on, “I am Jacaerys Waters, and these are my brothers, Lucerys Waters and Joffrey Waters. We are honored to have been able to have a meeting with you. We shall be quick. If I may, these letters contain dire information that could impact the crown.”
Jacaerys wasn’t dumb enough to try to hand the letters directly to the Queen so he just extended his hand and the Kingsguard acompaning them walked and grabbed the letters. Jacaerys was pretty sure it was Ser Harrold Westerling.
The Queen didn’t take the letters, Prince Aemond did. Now that they were closer, Jacaerys could see that the prince had the hand pin on his doublet.
“Jace,” Queen Rhaenyra breathed out and tried to move towards them, but was unable to do so because Vermax let out a warning screech, hackles rising and chest growing warm.
“Lykiri, Vermax,” Jacaerys told his dragon, having quickly turned around to place his whole body on the dragon’s snout. Vermax had a quick to anger temper. Once the dragon was calm enough, Jacaerys turns back around and gives another bow.
“I apologize, Your Grace. Vermax here isn’t fond of most people, moreso strangers. You would have to forgive his gruesome attitude.”
Joffrey let out a snort at that, causing everyone to look at him. The young man lets out a cough, shrugging at the looks his brothers gave him. “What?”
Jacaerys doesn’t roll his eyes, but it’s a near thing. He looks back at the Royal family and gives them a fake smile. “If we may be excused, we ha–“
“Join us for dinner,” Queen Rhaenyra says, which is more of a demand. The three brothers stiffen. They know that they won’t be able to reject such an invitation, but that doesn’t mean they won’t try.
“Your Grace, we wouldn’t want to intrude. My brothers and I shall be on our way.”
“I insist.”
“Well, if the Queen insits,” Jacaerys says bitterly. He turns to his brothers and gives them a slight nod. As if feeling their rider’s uneasiness, Vermax, Arrax and Tyraxes give off screeches, wings flapping.
“Lykiri, Dohaeras.” Jacaerys commands all three dragons, who have no choice but to obey. Vermax huffs, smoke filing out of his nostrils.
“Go, don’t let them catch you.” Jacaerys tells the dragons. The three boys step away from the dragons who take off, huge wings flapping away. Vermax gives a roar and huffs dragonfire, Arrax and Tyraxes following suit. In the distance, answering roars could be heard. Jacaerys then turns and gives the group another fake smile.
“Shall we?”
—
The walk towards the dining hall was awkward. Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey could hear the whispers about them, but they paid it no mind. As they entered the hall, Jacaerys stood still as the royal family took their seats, his brothers following his lead. As soon as everyone was seated, the three brothers took the remaining seats, which happened to put them directly in front of Rhaenyra, Daemon and Aemond. Jacaerys was facing Rhaenyra, Joffrey facing Daemon and Lucerys facing Aemond.
The Waters boys were tense, even when servants trickled in quickly to serve food. As they were being served wine, Jacaerys placed his hand on top of his goblet, impeding the servant to serve him. Lucerys and Joffrey followed suit. This garnered the attention of Daemon, who raised his brow at them.
“Not going to indulge yourselves to Dornish Red?”
Jacaerys clears his throat. “Some of us would like to keep our wits intact, King Consort Daemon. But I thank you for your concerns.”
That caused the table to go quiet, Lucerys and Joffrey trying to muffle their chuckles.
Rhaenyra clears her throat, causing everyone to look at her. She gives Jacaerys a smile, causing the boy to grow tense.
“Jacaerys, my boy, how you’ve grown.”
Lucerys and Joffrey wince at that, looking at Jacaerys with wide eyes. The eldest of the three pays them no mind, looking at Rhaenyra blankly with a clenched jaw.
Jacaerys was the eldest of them, the one who had spent more time with Rhaenyra as his mother. Joffrey was four when they left, so he had no true memories. Lucerys was eight, he had spent more time away than with Rhaenyra. Jacaerys spent half of his life with her, so the betrayal cut him the deepest. It was no surprise that he held such rancor towards the Queen.
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
The bitter formality cuts deeply at Rhaenyra, who has tears welling up in her eyes. The Queen quickly looks down, not wanting her family to see her cry. Everyone at the table fidgets uncomfortably, not knowing what to do.
“This pork is so bland,” Joffrey states, stabbing his food distastefully. “I’d rather eat salt rocks from Pentos than this.” He grumbles under his breath, hissing as Lucerys reaches around Jacaerys to smack him on the head.
“Don’t be crass.”
Joffrey pulls a face, causing Jacaerys to snap out of his brooding to give his brothers a pointed stare.
“Might we say a prayer, to thank the Seven for the safe return of Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey?” Alicent pipes up, looking around the table as she clasps her hands together. Before she is able to close her eyes, a laugh is heard.
Everyone turns to look at Lucerys who is trying to muffle his laugh with his hand. As he sees he’s gotten the room’s attention anyways, he places his hands on his knees and shakes his head.
“Lady Alicent, I don’t think your Seven even likes what we are. Aren’t bastards considered a sin with the faith?” He asks, fake sweetness coating his tone. “And this is low, even for you. I have some fond memories of you calling my brothers and I ‘simple looking’ and ‘abominations.’ Let us not pretend you’re glad for our arrival.”
Silence rings around the table. Alicent has tears in her eyes, cheeks red with rage. Aegon and Helaena are looking at Lucerys with wonder, and Aemond has a murderous gaze. Daemon looks bored and Rhaenyra is sporting a look similar to Alicent.
Jacaerys clears his throat and stands up, motioning his brothers to do the same. “I apologize, Your Grace. I thank you for the meal. Now, my brothers and I must get going. I fear we have overstayed our welcome.”
That snaps Rhaenyra back into reality. “Nonsense. Ser Harrold, can you escort our guests to their chambers?”
It takes everything in Jacaerys to not scream out in frustration. Instead, he nods and bows to the Queen and follows Ser Harrold, Lucerys and Joffrey doing the same.
—
“Brother, let us go train. Perhaps that dent you made from trying to swing Ser Criston’s morningstar is still there.”
Lucerys groans at that but stands up nonetheless. He sees that both Jacaerys and Joffrey are already dressed. This doesn’t surprise Lucerys. They’re all light sleepers, but if given the chance, Lucerys would sleep the day away. He goes into the bathroom and quickly cleans himself up with a washcloth. There seems to be some clothes waiting for them so he dresses himself with them, thankful that the Queen wasn’t forcing them to wear the Targaryen symbol.
As he walks out, he notices that his brothers are dressed similar to him. “Do we even have permission to go into the training grounds?”
“We’re guests, Lucerys, not prisoners.”
Lucerys grumbles. “Doesn’t seem like it.”
The three of them exit their chambers and are immediately flanked by two Kingsguard, the twin’s. Jacaerys just acknowledges them with a nod, Lucerys and Joffrey following suit. They walk in silence towards the training grounds, breathing out a sigh of relief as only Knights seem to be occupying the grounds.
“I think I will just practice with one of the straw dummies today,” Joffrey pipes up, grabbing a wooden sword. “I don’t feel like exhausting myself today.”
Jacaerys turns to look at Joff with a frown. “Are you feeling well? We can go back to our quarters if you wish to rest.”
Joffrey rolls his eyes. “Jace, it’s fine. I know you want to train. I’ll be here, don’t worry.”
“If you’re sure.”
“Lucerys has been itching for a spar, with fists.”
Jacaerys turns to look at Lucerys, who just shrugs. “He’s not wrong. But I can’t just get a random Knight to fight with me. Might get executed.”
Now it is time for Jacaerys to roll his eyes at his brother. “Come on, let us spar then.”
As they circle each other, Jacaerys and Lucerys feel gazes on them. Both of them look up and see the whole royal family in the stands, looking down onto them. The Queen’s attention is enraptured by Joffrey whacking the straw man into oblivion, obviously using no real skill to do so. Everyone else is looking at Jace and Luke.
Lucerys smirks as Jacaerys turns back towards him. “First blood?”
Jacaerys scoffs. “Getting soft brother? The delicate sensibilities of Kings Landing have gotten their grip on you.” He smirks when Lucerys just rolls his eyes, ripping out a piece from his shirt to use as a hair tie. Lucerys does the same, both boys ignoring the gasps the action earns.
“Okay then, brother. A fight for mercy.”
“Mm.” Jacaerys grunts, fiddling with the hem of his shirts. He then shrugs and takes off his shirt. The garners more gasps, but he knows these are more off horror. His back is littered with scars that are clearly made by whips. All of them are healed over, but they will stay with him for the rest of his life.
(He was five-and-ten. Tyraxes had screeched up a storm to notify them that Joffrey was missing. Lucerys and Jacaerys spent two days looking for him. They found him in a slavers bay, ready to be transported. Jacaerys was able to get him out, but was trapped instead. He lived a life in chains for seven moons, and had the scars to prove it. Vermax came to his rescue and burnt the slavers to a crisp. Jacaerys survived, and became the Unburnt.)
“Alright, brother. Time to dance.”
Let it be said that Jacaerys and Lucerys Waters didn’t do things halfways. As soon as they started, both men were sporting blood on their faces. This didn’t seem to phase them, but spurn them on. Both boy’s grinned maniacally, the fire in their blood toned down to a simmer after being on edge for a moon.
It seemed that half of the day had passed before Jacaerys was able to oneup Lucerys. In a move too fast for anyone to truly understand, Jacaerys had Lucerys pinned to the floor in a chokehold. Time ticked by before Lucerys tapped out, causing Jacaerys to flop on the ground, tired.
“Thank fuck! I felt that I was about to fall unconscious on the floor with you, brother.”
Footsteps were heard near them, causing Jace and Luke to look up. It was Joffrey, who was looking at them with a scowl and two waterskins on hand. “Are you two done?”
“Why, my Lord of the Straw, so nice of you to join us,” Jacaerys says as he sits up, taking one of the waterskins and chugging it. Half of it ended up on his already sweaty skin, causing his body to glisten in the midday sun. Joffrey just huffs and throws the other waterskin to Lucerys and flops down next to them. “So, how badly did we scare them?”
“I heard the Lady Alicent call for some guards to separate you two, but King Consort Daemon denied it. Also, it’s quite weird to have the literal Queen of the Seven Kingdoms stare at you for an unprecedented amount of time.”
Jacaerys sighs. He knew Rhaenyra would be more adamant in spending time with them, but he wasn’t ready for that. He just shakes his head and taps his foot on Joffery’s leg, urging the boy to stand up. Joffrey does as told and holds his hands out for Lucerys and Jacaerys to take. He hauls them up and claps them both on the back.
“Jacaerys, Lucerys, Joffrey. Come here.”
The three brother’s freeze at the Queen’s voice. Lucerys and Joffrey look at Jacaerys who has closed his eyes in what seemed to be frustration. He opens them again and nods at his brother’s, turning on his heel to face the Queen. He walks towards the balcony that held the royal family and gives them a bow, the other two following suit.
“How may we be of service, Your Grace?”
Rhaenyra seemed to hesitate at the formality of the three men. They all stood straight, hands clasped behind their backs and shoulders pulled back. “Shall you join us for supper tonight? We have much to discuss.”
Jacaerys’ jaw clenched but he nodded nonetheless. “It would be an honor, Your Grace. Now, if you could excuse us? My brothers and I shall retire to our chambers and rest.”
—
“Do you think we’d be able to escape if we had Tyraxes burn down the Street of Silk?”
“Tyraxes would get carried away and end up burning all of Kings Landing, I think. Best we just attend the dinner,” Lucerys says, walking beside his brothers. Joffrey huffs at that but nods, knowing that Tyraxes was not one to be controlled. The youngest dragon of them all liked to wreak havoc in the form of dragonfire.
(Joffrey was two-and-ten, Lucerys seven-and-ten and Jacaerys nine-and-ten when they first flew their dragons to war. It was a gruesome battle, but with the three Waters boys, it was done quickly. Dragonfire and blood reigned on the battlefield. Tyraxes was still huffing out dragonfire, Vermax’s snout was bloody while Arrax was flying about.)
“Behave, boys. I don’t want the Queen to be looking at me every time you two say something unbecoming. Remember, we are in Westeros. Their delicate sensibilities are important to them.”
Lucerys and Joffrey nodded. The dining hall room came into view, so the three brothers straightened themselves up and walked in as soon as the doors were open. Jacaerys spared a small nod for the Kingsguard.
It was a smaller gathering than yesterday’s, so the boys knew the Queen wanted to discuss the contents in the letters. Rhaenyra, Daemon, Aemond and Aegon were the only ones present.
“Your Graces,” the boys said in sync, bowing deeply before sitting down on the available chairs.
As soon as they sit down, servants filter in. Not unlike the first dinner, they are served wine. The Waters boys still decline, placing their hands atop their goblets. There’s a pitcher of water set for them instead.
Once the last of the servants exits, Rhaenyra gives the three of them a smile.
“Thank you for joining us, m–boys.”
They all catch the slip, Jacaerys cringing slightly. He hopes no one notices his innate reaction to Rhaenyra trying to treat them with familiarity, but if the gazes Lucerys throws at him, he’s not subtle enough.
“It is a pleasure, Your Grace.” Lucerys decides on answering in their steed, tone slightly saccharine sweet. It’s the tone he uses when he wants all attention on him and none on his brothers. It works, as it always does. The royal family all turn to look at him, various emotions dancing throughout their eyes. Or, eye, in Aemond’s case.
The greetings end there. The attendants eat their dinner, no conversation attempts made.
Then–
“About those letters,” Aemond starts, dabbing around his mouth with the napkin before setting it down. He clasps his hands together and places his chin atop them. He gazes at his once-nephew’s with a curious gleam in his eye. “How do you know about the resurfacing of the Triarchy?”
He doesn’t seem surprised about the Triarchy itself, so it must be that the Crown knew about the threat.
Good, Jacaerys thinks, Now, have they taken any precautions or have just ignored it like the late King Viserys once did?
He clears his throat, giving his brother’s a look they know all too well. To not interrupt him.
“At first, it seemed the Triarchy just wanted to set foot into Westeros again. We let it go, it wasn’t surprising for them to come back, given their defeat in the StepStones all those years ago. But, we started hearing whispers whilst we were visiting Dorne. Whisper’s about someone getting into contact with the Triarchy, someone with a lot of sway within the crown. This was little more than three years ago. Just before your crowning, Your Grace.”
A pause.
“Then, while we were nearing Astapor, we heard more words about the Triarchy. It seemed that they had a–hm,” Jacaerys hums, trying to think of the right word. “A sponsor, perhaps that is the correct word. Yes, a sponsor. Someone was giving them enough gold to be able to reach throughout even Essos, getting their claws in it before reaching Westeros. I do not know if this is common knowledge in Kings Landing, but Astapor has this army, called The Unsullied.”
“Dovaogēdys, they’re called.” The Valyrian rolls off his tongue effortlessly, shocking the Targaryen’s. “They’re taken from their families at a young age, trained to be an obedient, but deadly army. Tell me, Your Grace. Armed by the knowledge of an inner working of Westeros and it’s crown, with thousands of foot soldiers, and an army of deadly,obedient, slaves, what damage do you think the Triarchy could do?”
A thick silence ensues. Then;
“The very foundations of the crown would crumble, leaving it’s people scrambling. The Targaryen dynasty would dissolve. It would be hell,” Jacaerys finishes, giving the royal family a hard look.
Daemon and Aemond look furious, noses flaring. Aegon looked horrified while Rhaenyra had this defeated but knowing look on her face.
No one else dares to continue conversation for a while, stewing in the words Jacaerys has spoken. It stays like this for almost the whole dinner.
“So,” Rhaenyra starts, clearing her throat. The silence after the heavy discussion was tense, only the sound of cutlery clattering was heard. “Jace–Jacaerys, those scars in the training grounds. How did you get them?”
Jacaerys’ grip on the fork he was holding tightens before he lets go forcefully, placing it down as gently as he can. He can feel Lucerys and Joffrey stare at him, and when he quickly darts his gaze towards his brother’s he can see that they’re concerned for him. He gives them both a stilted smile, trying to give them a semblance of comfort. Given by their frowns, it fails.
He clears his throat. “It happened six years ago, Your Grace. Nothing of too much concern, now.” His voice is bland.
Rhaenyra narrows her eyes softly, her consort catching this motion and quirking a brow. Daemon places a hand softly on top of hers. A comfort or a warning, who knows. Aegon catches this as well and just clears his throat awkwardly, gazing at Aemond with some sort of pleading gaze. The Hand of the Queen ignores his brother, gaze piercing the Waters boys.
Joffrey, being the little shit that he is, decides to break the silence. “When I was eight, my brothers and I were living on the outskirts of Mereen. Our dragons were out and about, catching livestock from the folk more than likely. Lucerys and Jacaerys were in the town, gathering supplies. I was about to sleep when I was snatched by slavers. I don’t remember much, just being taken to a boat with other slaves. It took two days for Jacaerys to find me. He got me out, but..” The little boy trails off, suddenly not wanting to continue the story. He remembers the vivid horror of not having his brother, his parent, with him.
Lucerys gently clasps a hand behind Joffrey’s neck and squeezes it. The gesture calms Joffrey, the younger going slightly boneless. Lucerys just gives him a small smile.
“I was sold into slavery for seven moons, Your Grace. It was an unpleasant time, I will say. But, my brothers came to mine and the other slaves’ rescues. That day, over a thousand slaves were able to taste freedom for the first time.” Jacaerys’ voice stays professional. Bland, no emotions. His eyes are stony.
Rhaenyra once again has tears in her eyes, chin wobbly. Her hands are shaking, Daemon having to hold them tightly to stop the trembling. The three Targaryen men are no better, though. Aegon looks as if he’s about to hurl his dinner on the floor, Aemond expression is soured, mirroring Daemon.
Jacaerys just huffs out a deep breath before abruptly standing up, chair scraping from his movements. Lucerys and Joffrey follow suit, stiffly bowing to the royal family.
“Your Graces,” they all say, tones bland. The three of them turn around and exit the hall, backs straight and heads high. They feel piercing gazes as they leave, burning through their backs.
—
“Going anywhere, boys?” A deep voice startles the three Waters boys. Jacaerys is the first one to turn around, hand on the hilt of his sword. Lucerys and Joffrey doing the same.
It was Aemond.
“Lord Hand,” Jacaerys greets the older man diplomatically, giving him a curt nod. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
“Mm,” is all Aemond says in response, causing Lucerys to huff in annoyance. Aemond raises a brow at this but ignores Lucerys. He’s still looking at Jacaerys intently. “Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys will arrive on the morrow from Driftmark, the Queen wishes for you to join us to welcome them.”
Lucerys curses quietly before looking at Jacaerys with a pleading gaze. Joffrey just stays quiet. He has no true memories of their once grandparents, so he doesn’t know how to feel about the invitation. He has an inkling it’s not something good, seeing at how Lucerys and Jacaerys are reacting.
“Please tell the Queen that we thank her for the invitation and that we shall think about it. Now, if you could excuse us.”
Before Aemond could even respond, three large dragons were landing in front of them. Vermax and Arrax stare at Aemond intently, Vermax snarling at him, showing razor sharp teeth.
Aemond Targaryen rides the largest dragon in the world. Vhagar herself is made for war, and saw the days of the conquests. He shouldn’t be scared of the red and green dragon, not as big as Vhagar. But the bloodlust in Vermax’s eyes sends a shiver down Aemond’s spine, causing the Hand of the Queen to briskly walk away. He does not plan to get mauled by a dragon any time soon.
The Waters boys atop their dragon’s pay him no mind, only urging their dragons to take to the skies.
“Sōvēs!” They all shout in unison, letting out sounds of glee as the three dragon’s simultaneously let out roars and fly up.
( “What did they say?” Rhaenyra asks her brother worriedly, seeing the frazzled look in Aemond’s eye as he walked into her chambers. Daemon was with her. Little Aegon, Viserys and Visenya had already been put to bed.
Aemond just shakes his head and sighs, plopping down on the chair usually designated for things like these, when the Hand and the Queen need to discuss urgent matters that cannot be said within the Small Council meetings.
“Jacaerys offered his thanks for the invitation, he said they shall ponder upon it. They were not pleased, sister. But I did not think to ask for more explanations, as they called for their dragon’s right after their response. They’ve been flying about Kings Landing for a bit, I’ve heard. Not straying away.”
Daemon hums thoughtfully at that. “Seems promising enough.”
At her husband’s words, Rhaenyra sighs mournfully. She places her hand in front of her stomach, the other gently grasping at Daemon’s from where he sat. “I do not think so, husband. These boys…” She trails off, shaking her head. Both Targaryen men can see her eyes shining with tears. “They are not the boys we once knew. My children, they’re gone. Replaced with these hardened men. That is the burden I must now carry. I failed them as both a mother and a Queen. I must reap what I sow.”)
—
The whole royal family was outside, waiting for the arrival of their guests from Driftmark. Rhaenyra was in the middle, Daemon on one side and Aemond on the other. Aegon, Helaena, Alicent, Jaehaera, Jaehaerys and Maelor were on Aemond’s side. Aegon III, Viserys II and Visenya were on Daemon’s side. A City Watch member had alerted them of a ship crossing the harbor, a large red dragon following them.
Corlys Velrayon, Rhaenys Targaryen, Baela Targaryen and Rhaena Targaryen had not stepped foot in Kings Landing for a year. It was about time for their return, as Baela and Rhaena longed to see their father.
As the ship was coming closer, three sets of wings were heard flapping overhead. The royal family all looked up to see what had casted them into shadow. Above them, the dragons Vermax, Arrax and Tyraxes were circling them. They then glided down, landing a good distance away from them.
The three men, because that’s what they were now, dismounted quite easily. Now looking at them, they seemed intimidating. All three of them were strong looking, and they carried themselves with power. Not like the Targaryen’s, but not totally different.
They were all clad in black dragonriding leathers. As they drew closer, each of their dragon’s could be stitched intricately on the breast of the respective rider’s shirt. They looked formidable, and cunning.
Like true Dragon Lords.
“Your Graces.” As always, it was Jacaerys who took the lead. He was the leader of the trio. His younger brothers always deferred to him with anything, even when Lucerys was a man grown himself and Joffrey was well on his way to manhood. “I thank you for inviting us to welcome Lord Corlys and his family back to Kings Landing, it is an honor.”
Rhaenyra gives him a small smile and a nod. “We are glad for your attendance, Jacaerys. It is truly warming to have you here.”
The spectators could quite easily see the unease Jacaerys had at the familiarity the Queen regarded them all with. A subtle wince and the clenching of his jaw were the more obvious signs that he wasn’t happy with that.
Before the conversation could go any further, horns blared, signifying the arrival of their Driftmark visitors.
“Lord Corlys Velaryon, Lord of the Driftwood Throne and his Lady Wife, the Princess Rhaenys Targaryen! Lady Baela Targaryen and Lady Rhaena Targaryen!”
Lucerys Waters stiffens at the mention, causing Jacaerys to place a calming hand on his shoulder. Lucerys nods in thanks but continues to stare ahead, jaw clenched.
Corlys Velaryon is seen first, as head of his house and family. The old man seems to not have changed much. He walks proudly, strongly, face set neutrally. Rhaenys Targaryen Velaryon walked in, gait similar to her husband. Baela and Rhaena Targaryen walk in after them, faces set in a smile as they catch glimpse of their father.
The Velaryon entourage step directly in front of the Queen and bow lightly.
“Your Grace,” Corlys Velaryon rasps out, giving Rhaenyra a smile.
“Lord Corlys,” Rhaenyra responds pleasantly, “It is an honor to have you and your family here with us. House Velaryon is always welcome here, as we have the blood of Old Valyria within us.”
“Cousin,” King Consort Daemon says, giving Rhaenys a smirk. The Queen Who Never Was merely looks at Daemon before nodding her head, letting her granddaughters rush to their father.
Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffery merely watch the exchange passively. They make no move to acknowledge the Velaryon’s, merely nodding slightly.
Jacaerys tries not to tense and Corlys Velaryon’s gaze lands on him. His heart aches slightly at the flash of confusion that goes through the eye’s of the Driftmark Lord, no recognition going through them.
“Lord Corlys Velaryon,” Jacaerys says, deep voice traveling through the courtyard. “I am Jacaerys Waters, these are my brothers, Lucerys and Joffrey Waters. It is an honor to meet you, Lord Corlys.”
At the mention of their names, both Corlys and Rhaenys pale. He sees the elder couple look at his brothers, eyes roaming throughout all their forms.
“Jace,” Lord Corlys whispers. Jacaerys tries not to flinch at that. He merely gives the older man a nod before turning towards Rhaenyra who was staring at all of them.
“Your Grace, if we may be excused?”
Not waiting for an answer, Jacaerys turns on his heel and walks towards the Red Keep, his brother’s following closely.
As soon as they reach their rooms, Jacaerys lets out a harsh breath. He feels his brother’s crowd him and he brings both of them into his embrace, kissing their heads fiercely.
“We need to get out of here,” Jacaerys mumbles, Lucerys nodding in agreement.