Work Text:
130 years after the Conquest
He screams along with Vermax, in pain and in anger -- a war cry. He feels his soul tear into two as his dragon goes down in flames, screeching and smoking, flailing in the blood-soaked water. For a moment there, he wants to die with his closest companion. Close his eyes, and be done with this wretched life.
He leaps -- into his fate, into his death.
(But the Gods shan't receive him at sixteen and neither will they receive him in any other coming battles
He dies at a ripe old age of fifty and three, sleeping on his arm rest, with a dozen grandchildren at his foot known as King Jacaerys Targaryen the Strong)
He plunges into the water, the force of it startling him. A hundred arrows are aimed at him and none touches him. He clings on the mud-brown scales of his beloved dead dragon and sinks into the treacherous waters.
The darkness finally takes him and he surrenders happily.
//
He sees Lucerys, his mother, darling Baela, the father that raised him and the father that sired him, he sees his mother's father, he sees his sweet dead sister and and and
"My boy, Jace get up son, get up, breathe! BREATHE!"
He opens his eyes, and his grandfather stands above him crying tears of salt, pushing his hands into his chest rapidly, like a war-hammer, bringing him back to life.
He chokes, and coughs, and gets up so fast that his head starts to spin. Everything comes back in such a vicious strike that the first thing he does after his brush with death, is to scream.
His illustrious Grandfather, Ser Corlys Velaryon, slaps his back and laughs gaily.
"Thank the Gods, you are well Jace, your mother couldn't have survived another loss. I will let you rest, it will take a week, 3 days if we hasten to reach home. We almost thought we lost you, but you are have the soul of a dragon, if not flesh and claws. There was no need to worry, a dragon always prevails."
Jace could only smile at that and he drifts into a long sleep.
//
His mother hugs him so tightly and fiercely he feels like his bones are being crushed, but he returns the hug with the same ferocity. Her hair is long and unkempt but against the soft gloam of the setting sun, it looks like an halo, reminiscent to the Mother.
(His mother, his Queen)
She blubbers and sniffs into his arms and he acutely realizes that he is now two heads taller than his mother. She catches his thought at the same time:
"You look like your father" she whispers, a secret finally admitted.
He breaks down and falls onto his knees, hugging his Mother's waist, sobbing for his blood brother, his sister, sweet Viserys who is lost or dead in a wild unknown place, his father who burned.
He opens his eyes after an embarrassingly long time and directly in his view, Baela stands, arms open and grinning wildly.
Beautiful Baela, with soft dusky skin and wide pink lips.
He gives his mother a fierce kiss on her forehead and runs to his love.
They meet in the middle, their teeth clashing as Jace holds her face in his hands. She tastes like sweet honey almond cakes, salt and hope.
//
He raves and rages, he is filled with guilt and sorrow when he hears that his grandfather killed one of the dragonseeds off.
Hugh Hammer, he was called.
"If you don't want to be cooped up like a woman, if you want to protect and avenge your Mother's stolen throne, you will need a dragon. It is a pity that Vermax died, but you will need to bond again with a dragon Jace, there is no other choice. What better than Vermithor, the Old King's dragon."
"Grandsire, seven hells, it doesn't work like that, if Vermithor rejects me, I'll be burned to crisp." he retorts.
"I may not be a dragon-rider boy, but late wife, my daughter, my son, and their descendants all rode magnificent beasts. I am not a fool. I have no doubt that Vermithor will accept you. You came up with the sowing of the seeds, these beasts, they are brilliant, Vermithor will understand, he will understand your recent loss, and he will console you."
"Naejot Vermithor, Lykiri....Dohaeras...."
True to his grandsire's words, the Broze Fury proves to be a supplicant to his commands.
It's barely been a fortnight and a half since Vermax passed, and now he holds Vermithor under his thumb. He feels shame and pride equally.
(If he dreams of killing his one-eyed uncle, with his new dragon, a worthy foe to Vhagar unlike Arrax...he doesn't tell anyone)
//
Baela sneaks her hands into his pants and grabs his member without the shyness of a maiden.
He groans and grips her shorn hair tighter as she moans loudly.
"Marry me, I will bring a septon tonight and we can ask for forgiveness from your mother later. My father would understand. After all he stole my mother!" she quips.
"Sweet girl, I can't marry you now. Make no doubt, I will claim you one day. It is just not tonight"
"I thought I lost you once Jace, now that you are going to Tumbleton....."
"I will not fall, I will come back to you always...I will be your husband, the father to your children. After Tumbleton, yes. I can't imagine life without you either. We will tie the knot when I crush that Hightower cunt."
She smiles, all teeth, all dragon. He is so full of love, he feels like his heart might burst.
//
His milk-brother seemed to be in the throes of victory before Vermithor's humongous wings block the sun.
Daeron's light purple eyes, so reminiscent to his youngest brother's cloud in fear. The pale boy, pales further, making him look like a ghost.
(He looks so much like Egg, gods)
"Cousin, surrender now, and my mother, the rightful Queen, will still offer you clemency. Surrender now, before Vermithor grows too impatient and tears your Blue Queen apart."
"Aegon the Second, is my blood brother and the rightful King. As the first born son, the throne is his birthright. Let's not talk any further. There is only one ending. Let us see who reigns supreme."
It was a paltry fight. It didn't take more than fifteen minutes for Vermithor to bite Tessarion wing apart.
She shrieks loudly, just as loudly as Vermax screamed and Daeron, screams with her.
The blood of the dragon, the bond of a Targaryen and their rider.
Daeron, whom he shared milk with, his kin died scared. He was frightened till the end.
He was just a boy, just as he is one.
Alan Beesbury gives him a jug of fine Arbor wine and he washes down his bile with it.
"To Prince Jacaerys, the brave, the just, the strong!" he shouts drunkenly.
There is pin-drop silence before Jacaerys cracks a smile, and jests:
"Am I not strong?"
The men clap loudly and look at him with adoration, half-drowning, half-thankful for the privilege of being in his presence.
For the first time in his life, he feels like Crown Prince Jacaerys Targaryen, the heir to the throne.
//
He weds and beds Baela, immediately after reaching home.
As they lie in bed, Baela whispers,
"Do you think we could've created a son tonight?"
"Entirely possible sweet girl. Son or daughter. I would be euphoric with both"
"You want twins then Jace? Are you one round of coupling is enough for that?"
"Well, Baela, as your husband, I do have to hear out all your suggestions, I do like this one very much...."
He takes her on every surface of their joint Dragonstone chambers. All night long.
//
King's Landing falls in less than a day. Caraxes, Syrax and Vermithor land outside the Dragonpit while Addam flies Seasmoke around the city walls.
He helps Baela down from his dragon. Poor girl still grieves Moondancer.
The city smells of shit and treachery but this is home.
He pulls Baela by the hips and struts into the castle, smirking.
//
Daemon leaves to finally end Aemond once in for all.
He pleads the Queen to let him go, but she is a mother fist and foremost. Her eyes are wild when she says she will not lose any more sons to that one-eyed demon.
He listens to her and thank gods he does, because Daemon dies in battle.
Baela, Rhaena (who was brought home from the Vale) and Joffrey cry until their eyes dry up.
It all unravels when his mother dies just a year after Daemon's death.
The maesters say it is of broken heart.
He rides Vermithor to the North, just as he did with Vermax.
Cregan, who treats him like a brother, hugs him and holds him when he breaks down.
//
King Jacaerys is crowned the King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm in the wretched year of 130 AC.
When his uncle Aegon crawls back to try to take back the throne, he is swiftly dealt with. He is brought to the dungeons and without food for a week, the once Golden King dies pitifully.
Queen Dowager Alicent Hightower rages and curses him, calling him a "whore's bastard"
Baela suggests to rip her tongue out but he confines her in Maegor's Holdfast.
He rules for thirty and seven years. Baela bears him five children. Three sons and two daughters.
Lucerys, Baelon, Rhaenyra, Daenerys and Daeron.
Funnily enough it was only Daeron that got his brown hair.