Chapter Text
"Many have written of the battles Prince Jacaerys fought. Few have written of the night he laid down his sword, accepted a stranger's bread, and remembered how to laugh."
— Grand Maester Munkun, The Life of King Jacaerys I
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‘Dragonstone….I need to find my way to Dragonstone’.
The young prince had slowly but carefully made his way through the sandy coastline of where he had woken up, and started making his way north. These roads were all treacherous, he knew that better than anyone. The Baratheons had shown their true colors, as turncoats and traitors, when they had broken their oaths to his mother, and aligned themselves with the usurpers. Especially the lord of Storm’s end himself, Boros Baratheon. By all accounts and witnesses, he was complicit in what had transpired in these very skies, when Aemond ‘One-eye’ had killed his brother.
He would never forgive them, and would exact vengeance upon the ones who spilled the blood of his family. He would have done just that, had Vermax still been here. Yes, had Vermax been here, he would not have wasted a second and flown to Storm’s end and burned the castle down to its last brick, just like his ancestor had done to Harrenhal.
And yet, he was powerless.
What was he now, without his dragon?
What was he without the one thing that he held onto when the whole realm whispered and accused him and his brothers of being illegitimate?
‘A Targaryen dragonrider….without a dragon.’
He thought to himself, as he made his way towards the Kingswood. No, the Baratheons would have to wait. Their time would come, and so would their debt.
The young prince had fashioned a broken tree bark along the coastline as a walking stick, as his injuries to his leg had made it difficult to walk. And for once in his life, he was grateful for his dark hair as it made it easier for him to go unnoticed through the lands. These were towns close to King’s Landing, which meant there was a chance he could chance upon soldiers, or a patrol, and he did not wish to imagine his mother’s condition if she found out he had been captured or killed.
And despite his hair helping him stay inconspicuous, he still covered his clothes and himself with a cloak, and a hood. Though his clothes were ripped and torn in different places, they still looked like royal clothing to any commoner who would see them.
As he walked the empty walkways of the Stormlands, he silently thanked his mother, for forcing him to learn from his teachers and maesters all those years on Dragonstone. He never realized it then, but he realized it now, as he headed into the forests of the Kingswood, how helpful they’d be.
‘It is as if I can trace these lands like the back of my hand.’
Every path felt familiar, every road walked he could name, and that meant he knew exactly where he needed to go, to get back to Dragonstone as soon as possible.
And as the bright morning sun shone down on him, Jacaerys passed the two lone standing smaller castles of Bronzegate, and Haystack Hall, and made his way into the Kingswood.
It felt strange, being here. Being alone for the first time in his life, no royal guards, no dragons to ride, no family to accompany him. He was truly and utterly alone for the first time in his life. And it was not a feeling he found likeable.
Fortunately, so far he seemed to have gone unnoticed, which had been not very hard since he had not seen another living soul besides himself since he had woken up. It was quiet all around him in the Kingswood, almost eerily so. And yet, it was also peaceful. He had on purpose avoided any roads, or settlements, choosing to follow the broken paths to avoid any unwanted attention.
As the prince limped through the forest, all he could hear around him were the sounds of nature. The birds, the animals, the wind flowing through the leaves, the cool shade of trees reaching high in the skies, it felt odd to someone who had never really had a quiet moment in his life.
There was no time to relax, no time to slow down, not for him, not since he had been born. First it was King’s landing, then it was Dragonstone. All his life, he had been in the center of chaos. And for the first time, as he took a moment to rest near a stream, he realized. He had never truly known how beautiful these lands were.
‘I think I shall ask mother to bring Joffrey, and the boys here.’
And yet, the moment he would stay still in any place for too long, he would immediately realize, there is still a war to be fought, to be won. He would have time for this later, there was nothing more important to him then getting back to his family and relieving them of any worries they must have been having concerning him.
The prince bent down carefully, near the stream, and cupped the crystal blue running water in his hands. Taking care to drink it slowly, his body was still weak and the lack of any food was also catching up. As the sun slowly began going down, his body felt more and more heavy. His stomach bellowing in want. It dawned on him as he walked forward, just how easy life had been for him.
As the day passed on, Jacaerys walked further, every breath he could hear, the verdant forest with arching branches all around him, as if to welcome him, the ground beneath him warm and steady, guiding him to take a step forward, and another, and another. The cave, the coast, all fading behind him.
Perhaps he did not notice himself, as the sky began darkening, the sun beginning to set, the prince did not himself realize how weak his body had grown, he had taken a few stops in his journey but only to drink. There was no food, nothing to eat. He was in the Kingswood, where there was plenty of game to be hunted and yet he was practically defenseless. And a poor shoddy wooden stick would hardly be enough to kill even a rabbit.
With each step, the light of the sun grew dim. With each step, his body grew weak. With each step, it became harder to take another. Until he arrived at the point where every step became a challenge, each breath taken was rough and coarse.
Finally, the sun fully set, the divine night sky shining with stars stretched across the heavenly trails. And from afar, the weak prince, with his gaze blurred and weak, saw a dim light. A small clearing in the forest. As he walked closer to it, he felt he was getting drawn to it. His exhausted body being dragged towards it.
And as he came upon the clearing, out of the thick foliage, he realized he had found a small camp. A warm campfire lit in the middle, on the other side near the trees laid a mule, brown in color, peacefully lost in a deep slumber, letting out soft snores ignorant of the young prince standing a few feet away, and finally a small tent was set up on the side. A part of Jacaerys warned him to leave, the chance of being discovered by an enemy was too great. He pondered upon that choice as he stood on the edge of the clearing. His body wanting to be near the warmth, his brain telling him to leave.
Until finally, he forcefully turned his feet around, planning to walk away. But the moment he was about to leave, he heard a thick gruff voice from his back.
“Who goes there!?”
The prince was frozen stuck in his tracks. What if the stranger had a weapon? A bow drawn, ready to attack if he tried to run. The tiny tingles of fear spread across his body, but he was determined to not let it overcome him.
“Well! Reveal yourself!”
The stranger barked out, in a tone filled with annoyance and creeping anger.
Jacaerys took a deep breath, and slowly turned around to face him, keeping much of his face still hidden.
“M-My name i…..”
His coarse and rough words were left unfinished due to the fit of coughs brought upon him suddenly. Perhaps his body was still not ready for him to even converse. But the miserable state of the prince made the stranger ease up a little. As he realized that the poor soul in the cloak was just another case of the tragedies of the war.
Letting out a small sigh of relief, the stranger walked towards the fire and sat down on a log near.
“Alright, come here, lad. You don’t seem like you’re one of those fucking bandits. Come on, take a seat.” The man’s words took the prince by surprise, perhaps it was his warm tone, perhaps it was the fact that there was not a sense of hostility in it, or the fact that this lowborn stranger had not even bothered to ask him anything and yet welcomed him to his little haven in the middle of the forest.
Jacaerys, carefully minding his steps using his walking stick, approached the fire, careful still to keep his face hidden, and sat down opposite to the man. The few groans of pain that left his lips in the effort of sitting down were forgotten near instantly when he felt the warming embers of the fire eating away at the cold biting him.
He remained on guard, defenseless, hungry, thirsty, but keeping his eyes open and his stick in arms reach. And as he slowly lifted his gaze from the fire, settling it on the man who was staring right back at him. The first thing Jacaerys realized was the man was quite old, dressed in clothes you would expect to see on a commoner, rags mostly, with a thick white beard hiding most of his face. And yet, for some reason, his eyes seemed kind and did not reveal any deceit.
Jacaerys noticed the man was eating something, a piece of dry bread in his hands, and for a prince who had grown up in the red keep, and had feasted on the finest delicacies the seven realms had on offer, that dried bread looked as if it was more appealing than all of those combined. Perhaps the old stranger noticed his hunger filled eyes as well, as his lips slightly tugged upwards.
“Seven hells, lad, you look like you’ve wrestled a bear. Been walking long, eh?” The man commented with a smile, as he tore a piece of the bread and threw it near the prince who was huddled close to the fire. Jacaerys did not know what to make of this gesture, on one hand he had been raised in a very finer way of life, and on the other his empty stomach was howling for sustenance.
“.....Long enough.” Jacaerys replied in a voice no more than a whisper, but the quietness of the forest made sure the man heard it. And as he did, he slowly reached for the bread, and took a bite out of it. Silently, he thanked the gods the moment the food entered his mouth, and then one bite after the other, Jacaerys ravished down the bread, not caring for decorum or formalities.
And while he did, the old man just let out a small gruff laugh seeing the young lanky boy devouring his portion of the food. He was probably a soldier, or a survivor of the countless battles that had taken place over these lands, probably a lost soul without a place to return to, no place to call home, the old man thought as he stared at him.
"Bloody shame..." he muttered. "These lords fight their wars, and it's always lads like you that come back looking fifty."
The old man’s words reached Jacaerys’ ears but he did not say anything in return. The old man reached inside a bag next to him, and took out another piece of bread and without a word handed it to the young man, whose shock shown on his face. Jacaerys quietly took it too, muttering out a soft thank you.
“You from around these parts, lad?” The old man asked, taking a few small bites out of his portion, keeping his eyes set on the stranger before him, who had by now finished his food. The young boy, whoever he was, was not very keen on answering, the old man surmised.
“Near….Near Duskendale…” The young prince answered in a low voice, keeping his head down and most of it hidden.
“Oh, Duskendale, eh? Never been.”
It grew quiet after, silent, with nothing but the sounds of the forest around them. Jacaerys pondered on his choices, the man had given him food, but where would he go now, at these deathly hours, where would he find shelter to sleep, and the fire grew more enticing to sit near as the night got darker and colder.
He could hear the sounds of the insects, the critters, and every now and then, the old man would poke the firewood with a stick of his own. The fire kept cracking softly, the embers and sparks rising into the dark. Jacaerys was lost in these thoughts, until they got broken by the sound of the old man again.
“Got any family?” The prince’s heart skipped a beat at those words, slowly looking up at the man expecting to hear an answer.
“...Aye.” Jacaerys nodded carefully.
“On your way back to them then, are ya? To Duskendale?” The old man hummed as he took his eyes off the prince to grab his waterskin, and took a chug out of it. But his words only reminded Jacaerys again of the predicament he was in and the losses he had suffered.
“....Trying to, yes.” The prince answered, lowering his eyes, as they filled with a few tears, his fists balled up, nails digging into his palms. And as he lifted them back up to meet the old man’s gaze, he was taken aback by the kind smile on his face.
“Then I hope they’re waiting for ya, son.”
The kindness that Jacaerys saw in his eyes, and heard in his voice, it was strange to be given that from a complete stranger. This man did not know he was a prince, he was not being kind because he expected a boon, or a favor. No, there was no avarice, no malice, nothing but unrequited kindness, perhaps from one lost soul to another.
The scene grew quiet again, the old man kept poking the fire, keeping it burning, Jacaerys’ body slowly began to calm down, letting his guard down bit by bit, until finally it felt like he could actually relax. And as his nerves found rest after all this time, he began to feel the hints of drowsiness come over him.
His gaze began to drift to the world around him, taking in the thick trees, the plants, the wildlife, before finally setting down on the mule still fast asleep, lost in his own fantasies.
“His name is Pebbles.” The old man said as he noticed the young prince eyeing the sleeping animal. For the first time since he had arisen from his deathly slumber, the young prince felt a small smile creep onto his face, hearing the odd name of the sleeping mule.
“Pebbles? Heh, he seems like a good companion.” Jacaerys remarked, in a soft tone, finding the animal perhaps a bit cuter after hearing his name.
“A good companion? Hah! He’s the most stubborn beast the Seven ever cursed me with!” The man said with a snort and a snicker escaping his lips. His words made the young prince smile a little more, but before Jacaerys could say anything in return, the old man continued.
“The damn creature doesn’t cross bridges!”
“..Bridges?” Jacaerys asked, a tone of curiosity in his words.
“Aye, bridges.” The man replied, taking another swig from his waterskin, nodding his head alongside it.
“So…what have you done about it?” Jacaerys asked again, even more curious now, unaware that he was becoming more open, and unguarded, and actually interested in this tale from this random old man in the woods.
“Built half my bloody life avoiding bridges!” The man shrugged.
“You went around them….every single bridge you’ve come across?”
“Every last one!” His words were laced with annoyance and yet, also a trace of humor and tenderness. But they brought only confusion to the young prince, trying to understand the tale this old man spoke of.
“Why not just sell him?” Jacaerys asked.
“Sell him? Lad, by the time I thought of that, I was too stubborn to admit he’d won!” The man finished with a laugh, slapping his knee, taking another swig from his waterskin. Jacaerys stared at the man laughing at his own tale, and slowly, before Jacaerys realized it, a small chuckle escaped his own, not at the funny story the old man had just revealed, he did not find it very funny.
The chuckle startled him just as much as it startled the old man, and for a heartbeat, neither spoke. Then the old man smiled into the fire, as though it was the most ordinary thing in the world. And after what felt like ages, Jacaerys felt like the weight on his heart lightened as for a few more hours of this night, he could forget about the fact that he was fighting a war, that he had lost his dragon, that he was stranded, far away from home, from his family. For a few hours, he could just play the part of a crippled young traveler, sharing a campfire with a kind stranger who had opened his home to him.
The old man’s laughter dwindled to a smile as he stared at his traveling companion sleeping near the tent. His eyes carried warmth, and adoreity, which Jacaerys realized was the same way he would look to Vermax. With warmth, and trust.
“Heh, stubborn old beast, been with me for over forty years and still won’t cross a bridge.” The man commented, smiling as he stared at Pebbles.
“Even now?” Jacaerys asked with a faint smile.
“Especially now.” His words made the prince tilt his head, with a questioning look. “Lost half the bridges ‘round these parts to dragonfire.”
The old man mentioned it in such a casual manner, as if he was talking about the weather. But those words hit Jacaerys deep, the smile on his lips lost as they made him wonder for the first time, just how much the lowborn people of the realm had been affected by the war he and his family were fighting.
“Even these roads used to be busier. Now you barely meet a soul who isn’t trying to rob you, or cut your throat, or both in most cases.”
“Where….Where did everyone go?” Jacaerys asked, his words low and soft, as if he was trying to hide his own guilt, his own part that he was playing in this war.
“Some south, some north.” The old man shrugged casually, still poking at the fire. “Some nowhere.”
The old man did not elaborate, he did not need to. Jacaerys drifted off into thoughts of his own, pondering over the words of the old man, eyes stuck on the burning embers rising from the fire, but lost in a world of his.
The man suddenly got up from his seat, snapping Jacaerys out of his thoughts as he lifted his gaze up to see the man walk back inside his tent for a few moments and walk back out holding something in his hands.
“Here. It's not the softest bed you’ll find in Westeros but I reckon you’re used to sleeping in these.” The old man said as he tossed him an old bedroll. Jacaerys caught it suddenly, and was surprised why this man was offering him such kindness, and asking for nothing in return.
The old man walked over to Pebbles, and scratched him affectionately behind the ear once, and walked back and threw another pile of wood into the fire, keeping it burning, before he turned to face Jacaerys again who was still staring at him, holding the old bedroll.
“Get some sleep, lad. You’ve got a longer road ahead than I do.”
The old man gave the young prince a soft smile, before walking back inside his tent and unhooked the leather flap keeping its entrance open. Leaving Jacaerys completely alone, and nothing to keep him company but his thoughts.
The young prince slowly got back up, and rolled out his bedding for the night, it looked old, and had a sort of a smell to it, but the moment Jacaerys laid down on it, all those complaints vanished, and it felt like the most comfortable bed he had ever felt underneath him.
It did not take long after for sleep to take over him, as the exhaustion of the long day finally caught up with him, from waking up in that strange cold cove, to traversing the coastlines of the Stormlands, leading into the Kingswood, to finally chancing upon a kind stranger, and the warmth of the fire near him, it felt like his body just shut down in moments, as he laid his head to rest and closed his eyes, Jacaerys drowned again, this time into the land of dreams.
Hoping tomorrow would bring glad tidings.
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Warm light seeped through the large open windows of Dragonstone.
Jacaerys sat upon a chair in the hall where his mother held her council, focused on an old Valyrian history book he had been tasked by his teachers to study.
It was hard to focus on the book, not because he is a bad student, no, but because of the ruckus that surrounds him.
Joffrey laughing carrying a small figurine of a dragon in his hands, running around the hall, with baby Aegon running after him, screaming and shouting trying to catch his older brother, his silver hair shining brightly because of the sun.
On the other side of the table sat Lucerys and Rhaena, with books opened before them, but they seemed as if they were more lost in their own conversations and hidden smiles and giggles.
As Jacaerys looked to his left, he saw his own betrothed, Baela, trying her best to concentrate but failing, which brought a smile to his own lips.
Just outside the stone walls, Jacaerys could hear the rumblings and roars of Vermax, and Arrax, flying and playing together.
Suddenly, Jacaerys heard the door of the hall open, and in came walking his mother, carrying baby Viserys in her arms, with a look of annoyance and exhaustion on her face. And behind her, Daemon, most probably the cause of his mother’s current annoyance.
As Jacaerys observed the scene around him, all he felt was peace. And safe.
His family.
The Targaryens.
All in its rightful place.
Suddenly, dark clouds began reaching across the sky.
Hiding the sky behind them, casting a shadow over his home. The sounds of the tides crashing, getting louder and louder.
His brothers laughter becoming hollow, strange, eerie. His mother’s voice becoming distant. The dragons outside roared, not playfully, but with a tone of fear, danger, and tension.
Jacaerys looked around himself, his heart beginning to beat faster, the world contorting and convulsing around himself. Suddenly, he felt himself being pulled away, he saw the scene of his family growing further and further away. He tried to reach out, but his hands grabbed nothing but blinding darkness, he tried to scream and yet not a word left his lips.
Until he stopped, abruptly, the whiplash making his head jerk back. When he opened his eyes back up, his heart dropped.
Lucerys. Joffrey. His mother.
Just standing there. Silently. Staring at him.
Lucerys’ clothes dripping with seawater. Joffrey, muddy with dirt sticking to his face and clothes. And finally, his mother, she stood perfectly still, dressed in her regal robes, but then he noticed.
A small fire. Creeping up behind her. Reaching closer and closer.
Jacaerys tried to call out to them. To his mother.
They did not answer. They do not hear him.
Instead, they shifted their gaze up.
Jacaerys, terrified, followed their gaze.
He saw nothing.
Darkness.
Clouds.
And suddenly, a deafening roar!
The last thing Jacaerys saw, in the darkness, was Vermax. Blood running down its sides, his wings torn up.
One eye remained fixed upon Jacaerys.
He tried to reach out, but the dragon sinks back up into darkness.
His family disappeared back into the shadows.
It became quiet, deathly so.
Jacaerys blinked, and suddenly, the darkness shifts and contorts.
A garden. It felt familiar, and yet vague.
It was quiet around him, still.
As his gaze roamed, he saw a woman.
Sat some distance away from him, with her back to him. Dressed in royal garbs, a dark veil covering her head.
She sat there. Not moving. Still like the statues in the throne room of the Red Keep.
He saw a butterfly land softly on her hand. Jacaerys noticed the woman gaze down at the insect.
Jacaerys could not recognize her. He stood there unmoving, silent.
Suddenly, he saw the woman slowly turn her head.
And he saw a glimpse. A glimpse of her pale silver hair.
But before Jacaerys could see her face, suddenly, the butterfly took flight and flapped its wings with a sound that was louder than a dragon’s roar.
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Jacaerys woke with a violent gasp from his nightmare, sitting up abruptly on his beddings, panting and breathing loudly. He could feel his brow wet with a cold sweat. For a fleeting moment, he wondered where he was. Each breath taken, it felt as if his lungs burned from the crushing weight of the seawater. Unconsciously, he dug his fingers into the earth around him, perhaps to steady himself, to remind himself he remained tethered to this mortal realm still.
“Vermax.” The name left his lips before he even knew it himself, but only the cold silence answered him back.
Around him, he shifted his gaze, and noticed the burning campfire from last night was now just a bed of glowing embers underneath the ash. From inside the tent, he could still hear the loud snores of the old man still asleep. The only soul awake besides him in that moment, was Pebbles, who was now standing near a tree eating the grass from the soil. Unbothered by his outburst.
The living realm around him was enough for the young prince to steady himself a little. He took a deep slow breath.
And then another. Feeling his rushed heartbeat gradually steadying. As he wiped the sweat off his face, he noticed only then, it was no longer dark around him. Through the thick branches of the countless trees around him, the night had begun to relent back, giving way to the dawn.
Jacaerys remained seated, his cloak cast over himself as a blanket, his mind still lingering on what he had seen in his dreams. He tried to push it out his head, but it lingered, it remained stubbornly.
His mother.
Luke.
Joffrey.
Vermax.
………
The woman in the garden.
It was maddening, he wanted to not think about his nightmares but they remained. And yet, the moment he would try to remember what he had seen, the memory felt like trying to catch water that was slipping through his fingers.
He shook his head, annoyed and frustrated. Trying to make sense of a dream he could not even remember by now, much less understand what it meant.
‘Perhaps it was nothing more than just a bad dream.’
Jacaerys thought to himself, taking another deep breath. He was careful not to disturb the old man who was still asleep, as he rose back up slowly to his feet. His leg protested his move the second he got up, but he just gritted his teeth and resisted until the pain subsided. The young prince put the cloak back on, and grabbed his walking stick and began to slowly make his way towards a stream nearby the small camp that he remembered walking by the night before he had found this safe haven.
As he stood by the stream, Jacaerys knelt down, and cupped the water in his hands. It was painfully cold, but the moment he splashed it on his face, he was grateful because the coldness helped wash away the last remaining remnants of his nightmare that still lingered in his head.
The moment he looked down, into the cold running water, the prince found himself looking back at him. And for a heartbeat, he saw a young prince, dressed in fine clothes, who looked clean, sharp, and regal. The illusion quickly gave way to reality, and all Jacaerys saw looking back at him was a tired young man.
By the time Jacaerys had made his way back to the camp, the forest around him had begun to wake, the sunlight now peeking through the branches, sounds of songbirds drifting from one tree to the other. Tiny beads of dew still hung on the edges of the leaves, and as the sun shone down, they shimmered as if the stars of the night sky had fallen down onto the trees.
It was beautiful.
That was all Jacaerys could think, for a brief moment in time, Jacaerys could just stop and breathe in the serenity of the forest around him. His mind and body, both at peace.
And just as suddenly, that serenity was broken, when he heard a loud groan from inside the tent. He turned around and saw the old man walk out of his tent, groaning and rubbing his back in mild annoyance and tiredness.
“Seven hells! I swear the ground gets bloody harder every day!”
The sight made Jacaerys smile softly, which the old man noticed. Who smiled in return, perhaps a bit glad to see the young boy look less miserable compared to last night when he had wandered into his camp.
“Well.” He said smirking as he dusted his trousers. “Seems we’ve both survived and lived to see another sunrise, eh.”
They both shared a smile, as the old man reached into his bag again and handed another piece of bread to the young prince, and took one out for himself. The two ate in silence, just listening to the sound of nature waking up around them as well.
And after a short time had passed, Jacaerys stood standing at the edge of the camp, his eyes fixed on the path that would lead him out of the Kingswood. Wondering what those paths held for him next.
Behind him, Jacaerys heard the sound of the old man tightening the harness on his mule, checking every worn buckle. He heard the old man’s voice behind him.
“You headed east?” The old man asked. The young prince turned around to face him, and nodded slightly.
“Yes.” This old man had shown him more kindness than he had ever expected, and yet still, he could not reveal the truth of who he was or where he was headed. The risk was far too great. The old man gave a small grunt back.
Jacaerys kept his eyes on him, as he held the reins of his mule and walked right next to him. And for a moment, they stood there, just breathing in the air around them. Before the old man let out a small sigh, and turned his eyes to the brightening sky.
Jacaerys noticed a small tired smile cross his face.
“Gods be good….” He shook his head almost to himself, in what looked like relief on his old wrinkled features.
“Never thought I’d live long enough to see peace again after the Dragon Queen’s war.”
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