Chapter Text
It getting dark. The setting sun was unusually red that day, painting the shores of Blackwater and the towers of the Red Keep the color of blood.
“I haven't seen anything like this in a long time, probably not since the Gullet” Jace thought to himself as he returned from Dragonstone on Vermax.
It was one of those rare occasions when he could breathe freely away from the rotten smells of the capital and warm himself in the sun instead of sitting in the damp, freezing halls of the Red Keep. After Jace had nearly died during the battle, Rhaenyra practically never let him out of her sight and certainly wouldn’t allow him to saddle Vermax, but this time Jace had managed to convince her, assuring her that it would be safer this way. After Ulf and Hugh's betrayal, traveling by ship, which was how Rhaenyra had previously sent Jace to Dragonstone become dangerous. Besides, after Jace had nearly drowned when he fell from Vermax because he had fastened himself poorly to the saddle, he had developed a panic fear of water.
However, Jace could not fully enjoy this freedom. This time there were only tears in the prince's brown eyes, tears that wouldn’t dry. Fate struck him blow after blow. This visit to Dragonstone had left an unhealing wound in Jace's heart.
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"If not for me, then for Luke's memory, get yourself together! The Prince of Dragonstone should not look and smell like a privy cleaner!" Baela said instead of greeting him when he arrived.
"Don't bring up Luke. You don't know what he would have wanted!" Jace objected.
"I saw the two of you together in dark corners of the castle. Luke preferred your ass to be clean before you-know-what. At least that's what it sounded like when I heard him swearing at you about your filthy crotch while he had you pinned behind the throne on the day father and Rhaenyra left for Driftmark," said Baela, trying to grab Jace's small ass, but he dodged away, and even through the dirt on his face, the redness spreading across his cheeks was visible.
This time Baela still failed to drag Jace into a bath, but the news he had brought was troubling. It seemed Daemon had finally gone completely out of control and, in Rhaenyra's opinion, might be preparing a betrayal. He had arrived at Harrenhal, which Aemond had occupied not long before, and was now waiting there for someone.
"Father would never betray Rhaenyra. After mom’s death, she became his love and the meaning of his existence," Baela objected with tears in her eyes. Jace felt that she knew more than he did.
"All father wants is to show her his love and loyalty. Those rumors about Nettles have no basis at all. I saw them together myself, and what Celtigar and Mysaria are saying about them is a filthy lie. Why didn't you interfere and explain it to her?"
"Mother was very upset after Hugh and Ulf's betrayal, unfortunately," Jace replied, trying to choose his words carefully so he wouldn’t say too much about his mother, whom he judged far more harshly.
"She was going to order Addam arrested and declare him a traitor to the Crown, but with great effort I managed to persuade her not to do it. My influence wasn't enough when it came to Daemon, especially since Mysaria has gained enormous influence over her lately, and I am unable to overcome it."
Before the Gullet, Jace would have taken matters into his own hands and managed to persuade her, but after the battle had nearly ended in disaster because of him, and only Alyn's heroism had pulled him from the water, Jace had lost all authority in Rhaenyra's eyes. Now, fearing for his life, she saw him as a small child in need of protection and treated his advice accordingly.
"And now what? Father will be declared a traitor?" Baela shouted, no longer able to contain her anger. "Why did you come? I already knew all of this from father."
A lump rose in Jace's throat, and he looked away, as he usually did when embarrassed or upset.
Finally, he rattled out the words almost in a single breath:
"Our Queen orders that you are not to leave Dragonstone without a order. Separate instructions have been given to the dragonkeepers. They have been ordered not to let you near Moondancer, and if you somehow leave the island anyway, you will be declared a traitor to the Crown!"
Baela's face turned red. The last time he had seen her like this was after he had refused to marry her, and before that at Luke's funeral, or rather at what was supposed to be Luke's funeral.
The marriage had been especially difficult. By that time Jace had already known love and physical intimacy with men twice as an omega. His first partner had been Luke, rough and domineering alpha Luke, who at nearly fourteen had been so lustful that he took Jace whenever he had the opportunity, always showering him with choice profanity in the process, which only aroused Jace more and made the penetration feel even more sensual.
But true love had come to Jace in the cold lands of the North, in the arms of a Young Wolf.
Cregan contradicted every stereotype about northerners that Jace had in his head. He turned out to be a handsome young man, tall but not huge, with refined features, excellent manners, and a sharp sword, sharp but pleasant.
Their intimacy had been destined from the very first glance, for Jace saw warmth and tenderness in Cregan's eyes that could not be explained by simple northern hospitality, and Jace's heart had begun to beat much faster than usual. Only later, after they had been together in the godswood, did Cregan tell him that Jace reminded him of his dead brother.
“So Targaryen” Jace had thought at the time, but remained silent, because northerners didn’t accept many Valyrian traditions, and this was one of them.
In any case, after Cregan and their agreement, Jace couldn’t bind himself in marriage to a woman, even Baela, and he had been forced to refuse.
Now their separation seemed only to be growing deeper.
"Get out and forget the way here," Baela said and disappeared into the dark corridors of Dragonstone.
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Jace headed for the Tower of the Hand to make his report. Rhaenyra was supposed to be waiting for him there together with lord Corlys.
Even in the throne room, through which he passed on his way, Jace noticed that the atmosphere in the castle had become even darker than before his departure. Courtiers stood in small groups in the dark corners of the throne room, discussing something in very quiet voices, careful not to let their words echo through the vast hall. When they saw the prince, they fell silent and bowed, but clear fear could be seen in their eyes.
Upon reaching the top of the tower, Jace found only Corlys there, dressed in a long black coat. His face was almost invisible in the darkness of the chamber, his hands folded before him. As soon as Jace entered the room, the doors closed behind him and he and Corlys were left alone.
"I came to report to the Queen that her command has been carried out and the message has been delivered to princess Baela..." Jace began, stumbling over nearly every word, for it was difficult for him to speak about this with Corlys, who was clearly unhappy with what was happening, but it had been the only way to keep Baela out of trouble.
"Its no longer matters, because far more important events have occurred," Corlys interrupted him.
Jace still couldn’t see his face. Only his violet eyes glimmered in the light of the torches.
"Aemond arrived at Harrenhal on Vhagar, and he and Daemon met in battle above the God's Eye. Daemon is dead."
"Daemon is dead," Jace repeated after him, unable to believe his ears.
His uncle had always seemed to him an unattainable ideal of a great warrior and a skilled dragonrider. It was unimaginable to him that anyone could defeat him.
An abyss opened beneath Jace's feet and pulled him downward. He had never felt such despair, not even on the day when he had clung to floating planks in a desperate struggle for his life.
He realized that all the years of fighting for Rhaenyra's rightful claim to the throne had turned to dust, because their strength would no longer be enough.
"When Aemond joins the traitors and prince Daeron, we will have no strength left to resist them," Jace heard Corlys's voice through the roar of the abyss, and it was an obvious truth.
"There is hope for peace. I would even say that for the first time it has appeared."
Corlys's words pulled Jace from oblivion. He began staring intently into his eyes, listening to every word.
"Prince Aemond's preferences are well known to us, as is the fact that he is far from indifferent toward you. At this moment, Jace, you are the only one who can save us from destruction."
Corlys's words shocked Jace. He had long known that his grandfather possessed ambitions far greater than the plans he openly spoke of, but this was too much. In essence, he was proposing that Jace betray Rhaenyra and give himself to Aemond like a prostitute from Lys.
"You've gone too far..." Jace began to flare up. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth as it usually did, and his cheeks began to puff out.
But Corlys didn’t let him continue.
"Think about what will happen if the city is taken by force. Your brothers, your mother, I, and many others will be put to the sword, and that is inevitable. If there is a way to save the lives of those close to us, we must be ready for any sacrifice. You know that feeling, don't you, Jace? On that day you were ready to give your life for your brothers and your mother's cause, and now you are being offered a chance to do it again, but this time to save everyone."
"Where is the Queen?"
"I'm afraid she is not inclined to speak with you right now. Go to your chambers and think about it. A decision must be made very soon, because we have almost no time left."
Soon Jace found himself in his room. It was the same room where he had spent the first years of his conscious life before they left for Dragonstone. Jace lay down on the bed fully dressed and began looking around the room, once again trying to find another way to save the situation, but only despair came to him again and again.
And then he saw a small wooden dragon lying in the corner of the room.
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The tall stone tower was one of the few structures that had remained standing after the fall of Tumbleton. Although the Hightower soldiers had done their best to restore what they could in the town, the destruction caused by dragonfire had been so great that it still looked like a vast ruin, in the middle of which stood an enormous camp for the soldiers who couldn’t be accommodated in the surviving houses or those suitable for repair.
The tower, of course, had been occupied by the most important people, and at that very moment a feast was taking place inside it.
"And you, Ulf, I will make my heir. At least until I have one of my own, and then..." Hugh did not finish speaking and let out a loud belch that echoed throughout the hall. Since the battle of Tumbleton had ended, he had been drinking almost without pause: first at the funeral feast for Ormund Hightower, and later in honor of his future ascent to the throne. In the burned town there had been many barrels of wine and ale in cellars that the fire hadn’t reached.
"To do that, you first have to take the throne. While we're sitting here, we're not getting any closer to that goal," Ulf replied sarcastically.
He himself wasn’t opposed to drinking, but even for him these endless feasts already seemed excessive.
"We need to move out at dawn while we still have strength. Our ranks grow thinner with every passing day."
"And who will become my wife?" Hugh continued as if he hadn’t heard Ulf sitting to his right. "Perhaps Prince Jacaerys!" he shouted across the hall, and the crowd burst into laughter.
"Such a lovely beauty truly is the the Realm's Delight, and marrying him would confirm my legitimacy! Come, let's drink to the sweet prince," said Ulf before downing yet another cup of ale.
Anyone else would have dropped dead after consuming so much, but Ulf seemed only to grow stronger from it.
The drinking was interrupted by guards who ran into the hall. They were clearly frightened and had come with news.
"I certainly hope you're interrupting this undoubtedly important meeting of the Small Council for a good reason, otherwise I'll have your heads cracked open!" Ulf shouted angrily as he rose from his chair. Though his strength was great, the alcohol was taking its toll. He could barely stand.
"My lords, a huge dragon is flying above the camp. Prince Daeron's servants say it's Vhagar."
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Ulf was visibly tense. Yes, there were three of them: himself, Hugh, and Daeron, but they were potentially about to face the strongest living dragon.
That was the thought in his mind an hour later as he sat atop Silverwing in a field near Tumbleton, waiting for Vhagar, who circled above the camp, to notice them. None of the three dared take to the air, they feared that at the slightest sign of aggression they would be destroyed, while if Vhagar attacked first, their greater maneuverability would give them time to take flight while Hugh on Vermithor engaged the enemy on the ground.
At last, Vhagar began moving toward them, but she did not attack. Instead, she landed some distance away, and her rider dismounted and began walking toward them.
"Prince Aemond is alive!" Hugh exclaimed, gradually sobering in the fresh air. At least his voice had become noticeably steadier.
"I was told both dragons died above the God's Eye. They lied."
"So that's why you held another feast. Why didn't you tell me?" Ulf shouted back.
"I was going to, but the sweetest part is usually saved for the end, and it seems there won't be an end for us this time," Hugh answered quietly, but his voice was so strong that he didn’t need to shout to be heard.
The three of them dismounted and walked toward the prince. Daeron followed behind. Since Ormund's death, he had completely lost confidence in himself and had become little more than an attachment to Hugh and Ulf, doing whatever they told him.
Prince Aemond stopped first and waited for them to approach. Even from a distance, the sapphire shining in his empty eye socket was visible, and it filled Ulf with dread before they had even drawn close. He wore dragonrider armor, the very armor none of them had bothered to put on in their haste. It wouldn’t have helped them anyway. Vhagar was much closer than their dragons, and armor would not save them from her fire.
They stopped fifteen paces apart. No one spoke first. Only Aemond's piercing gaze moved from one of them to the next, as though assessing each.
"We are glad to see you and congratulate you on your victory. Would you care to enjoy fresh drumsticks and fine ale in honor of such a wonderful occasion?" Ulf finally said.
Aemond didn’t answer, but his look spoke more clearly than a thousand words. Ulf felt as though some unseen force were driving him into the ground like a nail.
"What do you desire, my prince?" Ulf spoke again shortly afterward. His voice was firm and decisive, though traces of drunkenness could still be heard in it.
"Not prince. King."
At last, Aemond's voice rang out.
It was quiet and low, like the hiss of a snake, yet so powerful that it pierced the listeners ears like the sharpest needles.
"Swear to me and recognize my supreme authority as King of the Seven Kingdoms, or die," Aemond said in the same slow, quiet voice, and at that moment Vhagar closed the distance between them with several swift movements.
All three men dropped to their knees and lowered their heads. Then they heard a sharp sound and, after a moment, footsteps.
Aemond had approached them.
"It doesn’t suit you, brother, to sink so low and kneel like common folk. Rise."
Hugh and Ulf continued staring at the ground, not daring to raise their heads. They felt hot breath and saw an enormous shadow before them.
"At dawn tomorrow we march on the capital. Let only the mounted warriors go, we must reach its walls as quickly as possible. If either of you attempts to flee or proves unable to set out, I will not leave you alive!"
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Alyn hurried toward the city walls together with Velaryon soldiers, pushing his way through crowds of people fleeing deeper into the city. Panic had seized the inhabitants the moment word spread that the Green army stationed at Tumbleton had reached the capital in a single day and would soon be ready to begin the siege. In that time, the city watch had barely managed to take up positions at the gates and along the walls, but the forces available were clearly insufficient, so the Queen ordered the sailors to leave their ships and reinforce the garrison.
"They have four dragons, three of them large. We don’t have the strength to oppose them," Lord Celtigar said firmly during the meeting of the Small Council that was taking place at that very moment within the walls of the Red Keep in the Queen's presence.
Rhaenyra's face was completely expressionless and empty, but Jace, seated to her left, knew that beneath that calm a burst of anger would soon follow.
And so it did.
"The fight is not over! They came here for them!" Rhaenyra shouted sharply, rising from her chair and drowning out every other voice in the chamber.
"And they will not have them. Just before dawn, during the darkest hours, when fog settles over Blackwater, I, Jacaerys, Joffrey, and Addam will leave the city on dragonback and fly to Dragonstone. From there we will cross into the Riverlands and join the armies of the river lords and the army of lord Cregan, which marches from the North and, according to the latest reports, has already crossed the Neck. If all goes well, no one will learn of it before we arrive at Riverrun. Meanwhile our enemies can waste their time beneath the walls of the capital preparing for a siege. And even if they take the city, let them. Their supply routes from the Reach are cut, and their army will starve to death together with this ungrateful rabble. They will find themselves trapped just as we are."
Rhaenyra's eyes burned with black fire, and her heart was full of determination.
Jace did his best to put on the gentle puppy look that Rhaenyra loved so much and replied in the quietest, calmest voice he could manage:
"They have the two largest dragons, and Tessarion is larger than Tyraxes. We need another plan, because this one will not change the balance."
Rhaenyra turned her head and looked at Jace. There was no anger in her gaze, only the indulgent smile of a mother responding to yet another naive idea from her child.
"Do you have a plan?"
"Give me until dawn. I'll save all of us."
Rhaenyra pretended not to hear Jace's words and continued issuing orders. She entrusted the defense of the city to Corlys, and to ensure his loyalty remained unquestionable, she would take not only Addam but also Alyn to Dragonstone. Alyn would be placed aboard a ship, transported to Dragonstone, and executed if necessary. If dragons began burning the city, the guards and Corlys were ordered to fortify themselves within the Red Keep and the Dragonpit, both of which had been built to withstand even Vhagar's flames.
All the while Jace stared at the table and waited for the council meeting to end. The thought that he would have to disobey his mother, whom he loved more than anyone else in the world despite everything, tormented him.
Then, at the very end of the meeting, he heard the words that finally convinced him that this path was unavoidable:
"Make sure the prince doesn’t leave his chambers before dawn, and have the dragonkeepers remove Vermax's saddle."
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Jace sat in his chambers.
Holding the little wooden dragon in his hands, wrapped in a blanket, he waited.
The guards outside his door seemed to make it impossible for him to do anything, but he knew Corlys would do whatever was necessary.
And so it proved.
After a brief sound of fighting, the door opened and Corlys entered accompanied by soldiers.
"They will lead you through the catacombs. They have been heavily guarded ever since Helaena and Alicent used them during their failed escape, but over the last two days I have replaced the patrols with my own men, so you need not worry about being discovered and may take the shortest route. Also remember that you must return before the hours before dawn so that we can carry out our plan. I will be able to delay the Queen, but only for a short while. I would rather not have to use force against her," he said in a calm and steady voice.
Seeing the tears in Jace's eyes as he stared at the wall instead of at him, Corlys suddenly took hold of his thin, delicate cheeks and turned his face toward him.
"Jace, tonight you will decide not only the fate of those close to you, but the fate of the Seven Kingdoms as well. If our plan succeeds, we will repay the usurper in full for killing Luke, but to do that we must first take two steps backward. Rhaenyra is indeed the rightful Queen, but her mistakes have brought us to this moment, and now it is you who must become the Realm's Delight that she once was. I believe in you!"
Jace silently nodded and headed for the exit.
Ever since they had taken King's Landing, these walls had not brought him a single day of happiness. Even on the day Rhaenyra triumphantly ascended the Iron Throne and held a grand feast to celebrate her victory, Jace had felt empty and broken, unable to recover from the Gullet.
Now, if he succeeded, this palace would become a golden cage where he would serve as the pleasure of a cruel tyrant, and if he failed to satisfy him, everyone he loved would be placed in danger.
During the time he had spent with Luke and Cregan, Jace had come to know his body well and understood how to use it to bring the greatest pleasure not only to himself but also to an alpha. Yet he feared that Aemond would want something more from him than simple sexual satisfaction.
Thinking about the grim fate that awaited him, Jace failed to notice when he crossed the catacombs of the Red Keep and emerged into the city.
There another group of guards was waiting for him. They draped a guard's cloak over his shoulders, led him through the city, and escorted him out through the Lion Gate, opposite which the Green camp was situated.
Jace didn’t know how he was supposed to enter the camp unnoticed, but his refined mind sensed that everything had already been arranged, so he walked straight ahead, directly toward the siege works that were gradually encircling the city.
He wasn’t mistaken. They were already waiting for him.
Jace had not gone more than three hundred paces from the city gates when a group of soldiers in green cloaks ran toward him, wrapped him in one like their own, and swiftly led him into the camp.
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Aemond had ordered all the guards to leave the tent immediately after sunset and waited.
He had received Lord Corlys's letter back in Tumbleton, the night before flying to the capital. The old lord was playing his own game and wished to change sides in order to preserve his power and influence. To gain leverage over Aemond, he wanted to take control of Dragonstone and keep Rhaenyra, Joffrey, and Viserys there, so that if necessary he could release them and raise a new rebellion.
The old man believed Aemond was foolish and blinded by his successes, but that was not the case. Corlys would yet be surprised by his insight.
For now, however, nothing prevented him from accepting the proposal, for it promised only advantages.
Yet Aemond could not stop thinking about what he would do with Jace once they were alone in the tent.
Ever since childhood, Aemond had admired Jace's beauty and envied him. Yes, Jace didn’t look like a Targaryen, as mother never tired of reminding him, but he possessed those beautiful, delicate, refined features that belonged only to a prince, and success followed him as though fate itself had prepared him for that role.
While Aemond had been forced to earn recognition through the hardest labor, blood, and sacrifice, Jace had been loved since childhood by everyone who came to know him. Aemond remembered how he had tried to win Jace's favor, giving him various gifts he had made with his own hands in hopes of becoming friends with him. Jace always accepted them politely, but Aemond, deprived of love himself, could never understand what truly touched Jace's heart, and every time he failed.
Except once...
The very thought of that moment made Aemond feel ill. He loosened the collar of his tunic because he found it difficult to breathe.
After the pain came shame. How could he, rider of Vhagar, slayer of the Rogue Prince and the Queen Who Never Was, become so embarrassed and distressed at the mere thought of that incident?!
If necessary, he would take that omega by force. He would make him love him as he was. He didn’t need to search for excuses for that pampered omega prince.
Lost in thought, Aemond failed to notice when a familiar figure appeared before him.
Jace stood there wearing a green cloak, beneath which was a black outfit marked by a diamond-shaped pattern running from chest to waist. His beautiful curls were exactly as Aemond remembered them, though dirtier, and Jace smelled far worse than Aemond remembered. Jace had hated washing since childhood and could wear the same clothes for weeks, but he had never smelled this strongly before.
Under one arm he carried a bundle of unknown contents.
Seeing Aemond's gaze, Jace pulled it out and unwrapped it.
Before him was the same little green wooden dragon that Aemond had given him many years ago.
"Where..." Aemond managed only a single word.
There was no air left in his chest, but he used all his strength not to show weakness in front of Jace.
"I found it in my chambers in the Red Keep. Since fate has forced me to do this, it belongs to you now. You finally got what you wanted," Jace said in an empty voice and held out the dragon.
At once Aemond remembered how little Jace had laughed when he first saw it and had hugged him. Only his exceptional self-control prevented him from losing himself to the flood of emotions that struck him.
"So you've accepted your fate," Aemond said in the coldest, most indifferent voice he could manage.
In truth, he was overflowing with desire. He was ready to take Jace right there in the tent, at that very moment.
But not yet.
There would be time.
A whole lifetime.
"Now listen to me carefully and do everything I tell you, exactly as I tell you, if you want your mother and brothers to remain unharmed..."