Chapter 9 - No Mercy

129 AC

The Eighth Day of the Eighth Moon

Dragonstone

I had become complacent. I had never thought that the sowing of the seeds would have taken place after I killed the person who had conceived the idea.

"Fuck," I cursed out as the wind brushed my hair, and I urged Vermithor to fly faster.

Seasmoke and Sheepstealer were the only two dragons I could think of that might still have riders, especially after Alyssa and I had tamed Vermithor and Silverwing, respectively.

I should have accompanied my brothers to Dragonstone, the thought came to my mind.

But ending the Velaryons was important, and I had accomplished that with the destruction of their fleet as well as the Sea Snake himself.

My Valyrian steel sword was still wet with the blood of the Sea Snake.

"Have mercy," the voices of the men, women, and children I had burned came back into my mind, but I shook my head, not letting those voices cloud my thoughts.

The black sands of Dragonstone were visible as Vermithor circled the isle. Then I saw it: a pale silver-grey dragon corpse lying on the beach, its head severed.

In the distance, I spotted the largest living dragon in the world, Vhagar. At the sight of her, I noticed one of her wings was in tatters. She was bleeding from her stomach and had various other wounds.

Sunfyre was no better. One of her sides was scorched, and it was clear she was in dire straits as well.

A screech pierced the air, and I saw Tessarion flying, but Daeron was not riding her.

Fucking hell.

"Brothers, please be safe", I muttered as I landed on the beach. I saw riders wearing the colors of House Targaryen and Hightower.

It seemed my brothers had successfully taken over the island.

"Prince Jaehaerys," Ser Criston Cole said, approaching.

"Please, tell me my brothers are safe," I demanded, looking into his eyes. His expression was downcast, filled with a foreboding silence.

A chill ran down my spine as I waited for his response.

------

"Jaehaerys," Aemond said as I hugged my older brother tightly.

"Aemond," I replied, and for the first time in a long while, I felt my heart swell with emotion, a feeling I had thought deserted me.

"What the hell happened?" I asked him as I heard screams coming from inside the room.

Aemond put a hand on my shoulder, stopping me from going inside. "We never expected there to be more dragonriders, brother," he said.

"When we approached Dragonstone, everything seemed well. The men we brought from King's Landing landed on the beaches without resistance," he continued.

But then everything changed.

"Seasmoke and Sheepstealer," he said grimly.

"The two dragons had riders, and all four of us battled in the sky," he said.

"Four?" I questioned.

"Daeron had gone to the Dragonmont to scout and stop our sister from gaining access to her dragon, but then…" he trailed off.

"What happened?" I pressed him.

"Baela Targaryen," he said, the name dripping with contempt. "She ambushed him alongside some of the knights loyal to our treacherous sister and two arrows struck him."

My eyes widened in shock.

"Tessarion burned that bitch, but Daeron was injured and is currently being treated inside alongside Aegon," he said.

"The two dragonriders were not well-trained, but they put up a tough fight," Aemond admitted.

"We sustained wounds, but I was able to finish off Sheepstealer's rider while the dragon fled despite being injured and I doubt Sheepstealer would survive after what Vhagar did. But the damage was done; he managed to tear one of Vhagar's wings," he said with fury.

"Meanwhile, Aegon fought Seasmoke with Sunfyre. They were an even match, and by the time I was able to help him…" he paused, his voice heavy with grief.

"How is Aegon?" I asked him.

"Seasmoke burned half of his body, and the armor melted into his flesh," he said, and I felt my grip tighten on my sword.

"Who is treating him right now?" I demanded.

"One of the healers we brought from King's Landing," he replied.

"Fuck that," I said.

"Ser Criston, bring Maester Gerardys, the maester on Dragonstone," I ordered, and the Kingsguard knights quickly carried out my orders.

"How many men did we lose while taking Dragonstone?" I asked him.

"Not many. Ser Alfred Broome, the master-at-arms, was able to open the gates for our men while he, alongside his knights, purged those loyal to our treacherous sister," he said.

"Ser Arryk died fighting his twin brother," he added somberly.

"What of our sister and her children?" I asked, my voice cold and measured.

"She is confined to her room alongside her whelps and is under strict guard," Aemond replied.

"Very well," I said as I began to walk away.

"Jaehaerys, where are you going?" Aemond called after me.

"To fulfill the promise I made to our father, brother," I said, and he understood my meaning immediately.

"I wish to make that bitch suffer," he said, his eye blazing with fury.

"She is mine," he declared, his voice trembling with rage.

"Control yourself, brother," I said firmly. "I cannot let you become a kinslayer," I added as I left him standing there.

I reached the room where Rhaenyra was being held, close to twenty guards standing watch. Seeing me, they bowed their heads.

"Do not enter the room, no matter what happens," I commanded. They nodded solemnly, and I entered.

Rhaenyra sat on the bed, her arms wrapped protectively around her two sons, her eyes meeting mine with a mixture of fury and fear.

"You," she spat, her eyes blazing with hatred.

"Sister," I said, drawing my Valyrian steel sword from its sheath. The blade glinted menacingly in the dim light as she realized what was about to happen.

"No, no! You cannot kill my children, I beg of you," she pleaded, falling to her knees. "Kill me instead," she said, tears streaming down her face.

Aegon and Viserys, my nephews, stared at me, their eyes wide with terror.

I approached Rhaenyra, her two sons watching in fear. As I got close, she suddenly lunged at me with a dagger. With one swift motion, I severed her right arm at the elbow. Blood spurted out in a crimson arc as she fell to her knees, screaming in agony.

The older boy, Aegon, seeing his mother attacked, rushed at me. With a single swing of my sword, I sliced through his body, the Valyrian steel cutting through flesh and bone like butter. Rhaenyra's wails filled the room as she tried to stem the flow of blood from her stump, her eyes fixed on her son's lifeless, bisected body.

The younger boy, Viserys, began to cry and ran to a corner, cowering in fear.

"Jaehaerys, please, do not kill Viserys," Rhaenyra shrieked. "He is named after our father! Please, do not kill my only remaining son," she wailed, snot and tears streaming down her face.

I bent down on one knee, lifting Viserys's chin to meet my gaze. "Look at me," I said, and he did. In his eyes, I saw the reflection of our father's eyes.

"This is all a bad dream. Close your eyes, and you will not feel anything," I said softly. He obeyed, tears falling from his eyes.

"No, no, please," Rhaenyra sobbed as she tried to crawl towards me, her body weak and trembling. In an instant, I plunged my sword into her son's head. He died immediately, his small body crumpling to the floor.

"Ahhhh," Rhaenyra screamed, her voice a raw, guttural sound of utter despair. "You killed them all," she cried, lying on the floor, blood oozing from her severed arm.

I approached her, my sword dripping with the blood of her sons. She started to cackle, the sound eerie and hollow. She had either gone mad or was too buried in grief to care anymore.

"No parent should watch their child die," I said, looking into her eyes, now devoid of hope. With a swift motion, I plunged my sword into her heart. Her eyes widened briefly before the light faded from them entirely.

As I stood over the lifeless bodies of Rhaenyra and her children, the weight of my actions pressed down on me. The room was filled with the stench of blood and death, a testament to the horror that had just unfolded. I felt nothing. No guilt, no sorrow, only the cold satisfaction of a promise fulfilled.

Rhaenyra's blood pooled around her, mingling with that of her sons. Her face, twisted in a final grimace of pain and despair, would haunt the dreams of any lesser man. But not me. I had steeled myself for this moment, prepared myself to do whatever was necessary to secure my family's legacy.

I turned and left the room, the guards outside standing rigid, their faces pale. They did not meet my gaze, and I did not seek their eyes. What I had done was necessary, and necessity had no room for remorse.

Aemond was waiting for me in the corridor, his face a mask of anger and frustration. "Is it done?" he asked, his voice tight.

"It is done," I replied, my voice devoid of emotion.

He looked at me, his eye searching for something, perhaps a sign of regret or weakness. He found none. "We should burn their bodies," he said finally. "Ensure there is nothing left for our enemies to mourn."

I nodded. "See to it."

As Aemond walked away to give the orders, I stood alone in the corridor, the silence around me deafening. The castle that had once been a symbol of our family's strength now felt like a tomb, cold and unyielding.

I walked through the halls of Dragonstone, my steps echoing off the stone walls. The faces of the men and women I passed were etched with fear and uncertainty. They knew what had happened, and they knew that the bloodshed was far from over.

-------

The sun had set, and I was in the chamber of the Painted Table alongside Aemond and Ser Criston Cole.

"The only remaining threat is the rogue prince," Criston said, and I nodded in agreement.

"Once he hears of the events that took place, all hell will break loose," I said coldly.

There was a knock on the door, and the Maester appeared.

"How fares the king?" I asked him.

"I have managed to help the king to the best of my abilities, my prince," he said with barely veiled disgust. I knew how much he hated me after what I did to my sister and her children.

"What of Daeron?" I asked him.

"Compared to the king, Prince Daeron is in better condition," he said.

"Will he be able to ride Tessarion?" Aemond asked impatiently.

"His wounds are deep, my prince, and although I have managed to stitch them, they will reopen if he rides," the Maester said as Aemond grew angry.

"You may leave," I said. The man bowed and left.

"Vhagar is too injured to fly, and Aegon is injured as well alongside Daeron," I said.

"I will face the rogue prince," I said, and the expressions of Ser Criston and Aemond changed immediately.

"No," Aemond shouted. "I am the only one who has the dragon and the will to fight him, brother," I said.

"Or would you rather have our sisters face that man?" I said coldly.

Hearing my words, Aemond rushed at me, grabbing my collar and pulling me up.

"Are you mad?" he said. "You will die if you face him alone," he said, his voice cracking with emotion.

"I will take him down with me as well," I said, and hearing this, Aemond grew more furious. He punched me, and Ser Criston held him back.

"Aemond, the only way this war ends is with Daemon Targaryen dead," I said. "Daeron and you are going to become fathers, and I do not want my niece or nephew to be born fatherless," I added.

"You cannot sacrifice yourself, brother," Aemond said, and I saw resignation in his eyes, a mix of anger and sorrow.

Ignoring his words, I spoke. "I will go to King's Landing and take Rhaena and go to Oldtown," I said.

"He will surely come after me, and I will face him," I said.

Aemond's eyes filled with tears, and he clenched his fists in helpless rage.

"Jaehaerys, please. There must be another way," he pleaded, his voice breaking.

"There is no other way, brother," I said firmly. "Daemon must be stopped, and I am the only one who can do it."

Aemond fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face. "You are my brother. I cannot lose you," he said, his voice filled with anguish.

I knelt beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Aemond, you must be strong. For our family, for our future. I do this for all of us," I said, my voice softening.

He looked up at me, his eyes red with tears. "Promise me you'll come back," he whispered.

I hesitated, knowing that I couldn't make such a promise. But I nodded, hoping to give him some solace. "I promise," I said, even though I knew it might be a lie.

Aemond embraced me, and for a moment, we were just two brothers facing an uncertain future.

As I walked out of the chamber, I could still feel Aemond's gaze on my back. The weight of my decision bore heavily on me, but I knew it was the only way. The fate of our family, our legacy, depended on it. And I would see it through, no matter the cost.

I walked toward the room where my two injured brothers were. Noticing my arrival, the knights allowed me to enter Daeron's room.

As I entered, I saw my brother sitting on the bed, shirtless, bandages covering his wounds. In his hand was a chalice, most likely filled with milk of the poppy.

"Daeron," I spoke softly as he turned to look at me.

I approached and hugged him gently, but he did not reciprocate. I sat next to him.

"I am glad you are safe, brother," I said, my voice trembling.

"Is it true?" he asked, his eyes burning with anger. "That you killed our sister and our nephews?" He looked at me, searching for the truth in my eyes.

I nodded my head slowly, the weight of my actions heavy on my shoulders.

In an instant, he grabbed my collar, pulling me close. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" he screamed, spittle flying from his lips. "All you do is kill helpless children. What kind of monster are you?"

"Rhaenyra and her children had to die, brother," I said coldly, my heart as cold as ice.

"They were just children, Jaehaerys," he said, his voice breaking, the anger giving way to sorrow. "We could have sent them to the Wall to join the Night's Watch," he said, his tone desperate, pleading.

"Daeron, their blood is on my hands. You do not have to feel responsible," I said monotonously, trying to shield him from the guilt.

Hearing me, he started laughing bitterly. "Do you even hear yourself?" he said, tears welling in his eyes. "What will Alyssa say when you tell her of the countless men, women and children you've murdered? Tell me, brother."

"I came to say my goodbyes, brother," I said, ignoring his words. "I am leaving to finish the one last threat to our family's safety," I added, my resolve hardening.

Hearing me, Daeron's anger dissipated, replaced by a look of realization and fear. "No, you cannot go, brother," he said, his voice filled with worry.

"I am the only one who can stop him, brother," I said.

"I will come alongside you," he said, trying to get up, but he groaned in pain, his body betraying him.

"You are in no position to walk, and riding Tessarion is out of the question," I said, my heart breaking for him.

"I want you to know that every moment spent with you was special, brother. Even if you hate me, it matters not, for I know you will get to live," I said, my voice cracking with emotion.

With one last look at Daeron, I turned and left, feeling his eyes boring into my back, the weight of his sorrow and my guilt pressing down on me like a storm.

As I proceeded to Aegon's room, I noticed several servants present, and the smell of burnt flesh filled the air. I motioned for the servants to leave at once as I approached my brother's bedside.

I looked at Aegon's body; it was burnt on one side, his skin visible despite the ointments applied. I couldn't help but feel a surge of anger at myself for not preparing better.

"Jaehaerys, is that you?" Aegon croaked out, and I instantly knelt down, holding my brother's hand.

"Brother," I said softly, seeing him smile at my presence.

"I killed that fucking upstart, you know, even though the bastard burned me," he said weakly.

"I saw your handiwork, brother—quite impressive," I said, trying to rein in my emotions.

"I finished the Velaryons, as well as our sister and her remaining children," I said, and a grin spread across Aegon's face.

"I knew I could always count on you, brother. You were always the smartest among us," he said before coughing. I grabbed a cup of water and held it to his lips, watching him drink slowly.

"You'll get back up in no time, brother," I said, trying to sound optimistic. "And very soon, this war will end, and you'll have Helaena and the children back with you."

"When you told me of your victories over the Blacks, brother, I felt jealous, wanting to prove to the world that I was just as capable as you," he said. "But look at me now."

"Aegon, you've proved yourself worthy by fighting for the throne—more than what Rhaenyra did," I said. "You'll go down in history as King Aegon II Targaryen, the victor of the Dance of the Dragons." He gave a small smile.

"I believe the historians will remember you more than me, brother," he said softly.

"Fuck them all," he said, chuckling weakly.

"What of our uncle?" he asked.

"The Rogue Prince will die by my hands," I said, and Aegon turned towards me with great difficulty, his eyes locking onto mine.

"You cannot leave, Jaehaerys," he said, his voice filled with concern. "We wait for a few moons until Vhagar and Sunfyre recover, alongside me and Daeron, and then we fight him together."

"Aegon, we do not have that much time. When Daemon Targaryen hears of my actions, he will undoubtedly wish to burn Oldtown to the ground before killing our entire family," I said, my voice heavy with the burden of inevitability. "I am leaving, brother, and I came to say my goodbyes."

Aegon's eyes widened as I stood to leave. "No, Jaehaerys, stay! Your king commands you," he shouted, but I continued to rise. The servants re-entered the room, and with one last look at my eldest brother, I left, feeling the weight of his desperate gaze on my back.