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It was Jacaera’s duty, as her mother’s heir, to come to the aid of their supporters at Rook’s Rest. Jacaera wasn’t a warrior. She knew it. Everyone knew it. But who else could go? Daemon was somewhere in the Riverlands, and her mother had no sons. Jacaera certainly wasn’t going to let Joff go in her stead.
Still, she was relieved when Rhaenys insisted that she would also go. Her grandmother had never seen true battle either, but Rhaenys had burned a few stray pirate ships in her youth, which was much more experience than Jacaera could claim.
As their dragons approached Rook’s Rest, Jacaera obeyed her grandmother’s order to fall behind, so the Green troops might not immediately see Vermax. Vermax would be their secret weapon, in case Meleys was unable to face their foes alone.
Jacaera was unsurprised when Vhagar slowly ascended from the nearby woods, where the old dragon had been hiding. She and Rhaenys had predicted that if the Greens brought a dragon to Rook’s Rest, it would be Vhagar. Jacaera had been prepared for that outcome. Lucera’s death was a fresh wound in her heart, and Jacaera willingly dug her fingers into the gash, clinging to the anger she needed in order to fight the boy her sister had adored, before he killed her.
But then a second dragon shot up into the sky, gold and dazzling. Vermax made a delighted sound at the sight of Sunfyre. Jacaera also felt a bloom of treacherous joy in her chest before she frantically tried to quash it. Aegon was the enemy. She oughtn’t feel any semblance of happiness toward him, unless it concerned his demise.
Sunfyre was younger and faster than Vhagar. As he raced toward Meleys, Jacaera’s heart hammered with fear—although she could not honestly say for whom, exactly, she was fearful. My grandmother, she told herself. I must help my grandmother.
She urged Vermax forward. They were still a distance away when Sunfyre crashed into Meleys. The dragons ripped at each other, fang and claw, so intertwined that they seemed like a two-headed dragon whose scales burned red and gold like flames.
Vermax screeched as she neared the clash. Both the other dragonriders looked over. Jacaera was close enough to see their expressions. Rhaenys’s was of expectation, as she had been waiting for her granddaughter as reinforcement.
Aegon’s expression was of shock—and terror. At first, Jacaera thought the terror was for himself, because Sunfyre stood little chance against two dragons, especially now that Sunfyre was tangled with Meleys. He wouldn’t be able to defend himself if Vermax started tearing at him too.
That was precisely what Jacaera ought to order Vermax to do: attack Sunfyre. But for some reason, she hesitated.
Then Aegon shouted, “Jace, get out of the way!”
Only then did she realize the terror in his expression was for her. But it was too late to evade Vhagar’s fiery assault.
When Jacaera awoke, she regretted it immediately. Pain was everything, and everything was pain. She wanted to scream, but when she tried to open her mouth, it was even more pain pain pain.
“She’s alive!” Someone took her right hand. There was a little less pain on her right side. “Jace, can you hear me?”
She just cried in response. Crying was also painful. Breathing was painful. Existing was painful.
“Where’s the maester? The apothecary? The fucking woods-witch? Anyone who isn’t so damn useless like you are?” Despite his harsh words to whomever he was addressing, he held her hand oh-so-gently. “Jace, I’m here. I’m not leaving you.”
She knew that voice. She knew that touch. She wanted to lean closer to him, but she couldn’t move or else that would be more pain pain pain pain pain.
Someone forced her lips open. There was an inhuman sound of agony. It was her sound. She made that sound.
Sickly sweet liquid filled her mouth. She was lying flat on her back, so she almost choked on it and spat it back out. She was force-fed more milk of the poppy until she was able to swallow some of it. Then she resumed crying, clinging to his hand until she was dragged into merciful oblivion.
She woke up again. Cold metal encircled her right wrist.
She recognized his voice. He was screaming with palpable fury. “I don’t fucking care who her mother is. She can’t even sit up, she isn’t going to run away! No—no, you listen to me. If I tell you to take off those chains, then you fucking take them off, or else her injuries will seem like paper cuts compared to what I’ll do to you.”
The metal disappeared from her wrist.
His warm presence returned to her side. “It’s me, Jace. I’m here. I’m here.”
The longer she was awake, the more the pain returned. She cried and cried and cried, even though it made the left side of her face burn.
He carefully spooned milk of the poppy between her lips, then he held her hand as they waited for the medicine to take effect. “I’m going to take care of you, Jace. I promise.”
As far as she could tell, he kept his promise. He was always nearby during her moments of consciousness. He fed her honey-water and broth when she was able to stomach it. He learned to apply ointments and change bandages underneath the maesters’ watchful eyes.
She would appreciate it more if she didn’t hurt so much.
Eventually, she was able to stay conscious for long enough to learn the extent of her injuries. The entire left side of her body had been severely burned, from head to toe. Her left leg had been shattered in the fall. Although the maesters reset the bones, it was uncertain whether she would walk again.
“Are there any mirrors in the room?” she asked Aegon.
“No.”
Good.” She closed her eyes. She half-hoped they would never open again.
While she was asleep, Aemond tried to visit her. She was roused by the sound of Aegon yelling at his brother.
Suddenly, she was back at Rook’s Rest. She and Vermax were high in the sky, watching Sunfyre and Meleys grapple one another. Jacaera urged her dragon forth, determined to be of help in the battle—although she wasn’t sure exactly whose side she was on.
Then Vhagar appeared, and Vermax was too slow to flee.
Jacaera’s entire body shook violently with terrified sobs as she tried to claw her way out of the memory. Aegon quickly returned to her side and held her as close as he could without hurting her. “It’s alright. You’re here, Jace. You’re safe now.”
After a long while, she regained control of herself. “Where’s Vermax?”
“At Rook’s Rest, injured but alive,” Aegon answered. “She’s recovering slowly.”
“And my grandmother?”
He hesitated. “Rhaenys is dead.”
“How?” Jacaera knew that she and Vermax had taken the brunt of Vhagar’s attack.
“When you fell, Rhaenys and I both tried to go after you. But our dragons kept fighting, and we had to—” Aegon’s fingers twitched around hers. “I’m sorry.”
“You tried to kill me,” she mumbled.
Aegon froze. “Never,” he said vehemently. “What Aemond did—it wasn’t on my orders. It was an accident. He was an overconfident fool. I would never try to kill you, Jace. I was only trying to catch you so we could stop this war.”
She yanked her hand from his and turned her head away. “Well, you caught me. Congratulations, Your Grace. You have captured your enemy’s heir and ruined her utterly.”
“Don’t talk like that. You aren’t ruined.”
“I’m crippled and scarred. I’ll never ride my dragon again.” And then, with tears burning in her eyes, she whispered her most shameful confession: “No man will ever want to marry me. No man will ever want to look at me.”
Aegon moved around so he was in her line of sight again. He smiled as he looked at her head-on. “You’re still you, Jace. And I would marry you in a heartbeat.” He paused, then added, “As soon as I convince the High Septon to let me take a second wife.”
She wanted to laugh and cry all at once. His words were ridiculous, and yet she clung to them like it was the only thing saving her from drowning. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do,” he said firmly. He let his fingers hover over her scarred left cheek, as close as he dared without touching and aggravating her wounds. “You’re the prettiest girl I have ever seen. That will never change.”