The Cruel

Daemon sat casually at the table, swirling the wine in his cup, as Jace stood at his basin of water, wiping the blood and dirt off his body. The silence in the room was only broken by the occasional hiss from Jace as he cleaned his wounds.

"Perhaps you could call a servant to prepare you a bath," Daemon suggested, taking another sip from his drink.

Jace shook his head. "Any servant that sees me like this will report it back to the king or, worse, my mother."

"Considering the state you're in, I fail to see why that's a bad thing," Daemon commented, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Jace hissed as he wiped a cut above his eyebrow. "It was a stupid mistake. It won't happen again."

"Especially not if I tell your mother," Daemon chuckled.

Jace looked over to his uncle, worry etched on his face. "Will you?"

Daemon took another sip from his drink before smiling. "Depends on if you tell me what you've been doing these past few months."

Jace seemed a little shocked at his uncle's words, which made Daemon laugh. "You're not as sneaky as you think," Daemon said. "Especially when your mother has half the servants in the keep looking out for you. Though, if I'm honest, I'm impressed you managed to keep so much of your activities a secret."

Jace turned back around and finished washing the muck off his body. His head was still pounding, so he walked over to the table and poured himself a cup of water. "You'll keep it a secret if I tell you?"

"If I find you're not in danger, I'll keep it a secret," Daemon replied.

Jace sighed. That was probably the best he was going to get considering the circumstances. He trusted his uncle—how could he not? The man flew into hell and fought a creature from nightmares to save him. The least he could do was be honest with him.

Jace sat down opposite Daemon and began to explain. "My goal has been to make enough gold to secure jobs and housing for the families of the men who died because of me in Valyria. I felt responsible for their deaths, and I couldn't just sit back and do nothing."

Daemon listened intently, his face serious.

"I'm also responsible for creating the new Bloodwine that's gained everyone's interest lately," Jace continued.

Daemon raised an eyebrow in surprise. "The Bloodwine? I'm quite partial to it myself. How did you manage that? Winemaking isn't exactly a simple process."

Jace smiled a little. "I used what we found in Valyria to enhance the wine—ancient techniques and some unique ingredients."

Daemon nodded, impressed. "And what about your activities in King's Landing?"

"I hired another bodyguard to protect my investments and organize everything I needed," Jace explained. "Hugh has been invaluable. Tonight was just a stupid mistake. I was having fun with Cregan, we got drunk, and we were kidnapped."

Daemon frowned. "Kidnapped? And you think that's just a small mistake?"

Jace quickly reassured him. "We're fine, Uncle. Nothing happened. Those responsible are dead, and hopefully, the guards freed the rest of the children. It was a mistake, but it's one I've learned from."

Daemon sighed, looking at Jace, unsure of what he should do. By all rights, he should tell Rhaenyra what Jace had been up to and be done with it, but she would probably confine him to his quarters till he was a grown man. Jace was a rare example of greatness showing at an early age. If he told his mother, it would stamp out whatever spark he had.

"Very well," Daemon finally said, uncrossing his legs and standing up. "It seems to me that you have everything well in hand. Rest assured, I won't be informing Rhaenyra of your activities."

Jace felt relief rush through him and thanked his uncle. He stood up as well, watching as his uncle prepared to leave. "Why were you waiting in the first place, Uncle?"

A look of realization dawned on Daemon's face, and he paused. "I almost forgot. I came to tell you that I shall be taking you as my squire. I hope you're ready—it won't be easy."

A smile crept across Jace's face. "Yes, Uncle. I'm ready."

Daemon left the room, shutting the door behind him.

As Daemon walked back to his room, he found himself being joined by none other than his niece, Rhaenyra. He smirked, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "What a wonderful surprise. It is so thoughtful of you to come and check on your poor uncle so often, Rhaenyra."

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes. "Have you discovered anything?"

Daemon nodded. "He goes to King's Landing at night, as you know."

Rhaenyra looked away, worry etched on her face as she began mumbling to herself. Daemon couldn't help but tease her. "I seem to remember a certain someone else who would sneak into King's Landing disguised as a boy."

"That was different," Rhaenyra commented weakly.

"You're right," Daemon agreed, his tone turning more serious. "Jace has already survived a place that would've killed almost everyone else. His trips to King's Landing are fine. But if it makes you feel better, I'll have the Gold Cloaks look out for him."

Rhaenyra still wasn't happy about letting Jace continue his nocturnal adventures, but she knew Daemon held great sway with the Gold Cloaks and trusted him to keep his word. "Very well. I shall not stop him for now, but the moment he is in danger again, I'll hire a damn sellsword company to keep him safe," she said, her eyes blazing with determination.

Daemon nodded and continued on his way back to his room, shuddering at the tinge of madness he saw in his niece's eyes. It was clear that Rhaenyra's protective instincts for her son ran deep, and she would go to any lengths to ensure his safety.

...

Jace quickly changed into a fresh set of clothes, slipping silently out of his room. Just as he reached the hallway, he found himself face-to-face with Ser Erryk, his Kingsguard.

"Going somewhere, my Prince?" Ser Erryk asked his tone firm but curious.

Jace forced a smile. "I was considering taking a walk before retiring," he lied smoothly.

"I see," Ser Erryk replied, preparing to follow Jace.

"But I think I am more tired than I thought," Jace said quickly, "I believe I'll retire now." He turned back to his room, closing the door behind him.

"The hard way it is," Jace muttered to himself. He walked over to his fireplace and turned the candle holster next to it. A click sounded out, and the wall shifted, revealing a hidden passage.

Jace grabbed a torch and headed into the secret tunnels of the Red Keep. The dark, narrow passageways were familiar to him, having used them many times before. He moved swiftly through the tunnels, the torchlight flickering against the ancient stone walls.

He emerged at the passage connected to Helaena's room. As he stepped into her chamber, he heard the sound of weeping. His heart clenched, and he rushed over to her.

"Helaena, what's wrong?" Jace asked urgently, climbing onto her bed.

Helaena remained unresponsive for a moment, her sobs shaking her small frame. When she finally noticed Jace, she hugged him tightly, tears streaming down her face. Jace hugged her back, his concern growing.

"Helaena, what happened?" he asked again, gently stroking her back.

"My mother," she stuttered between sobs.

Jace frowned. "What did she do?"

"She told me I can no longer speak to you," Helaena said, her voice breaking.

"Why?" Jace asked, although he had his suspicions.

"She doesn't want us to be together. She plans for me to marry Aegon," Helaena explained, her voice filled with despair.

"Aegon..." Jace thought angrily. He clenched his jaw, trying to stay calm.

"I tried to be strong, Jace," Helaena continued. "After she left, I went to her room and said I wouldn't accept her plans, that she couldn't stop me."

Jace looked at her, admiration and concern in his eyes. "And then what happened?"

"She said that if I would not obey, then she would foster me in Oldtown," Helaena said, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes.

"What do I do, Jace?" she cried. "I don't want to be so far apart from you again."

Jace lay down beside her on the bed for a moment, thinking. He could go to the King, surely he could convince him of the wisdom of betrothing him to Helaena. But that wouldn't help her in the immediate moment.

"Who are you?" Jace asked, looking down at her.

Helaena looked at him, slightly confused. "What do you mean?"

"Who are you?" he repeated, stretching out each word.

"Helaena," she replied, still confused.

"Helaena who?" Jace pressed.

"Helaena Targaryen," she said softly.

Jace nodded. "You are Helaena Targaryen, the blood of Old Valyria and Princess of the Realm."

"My mother is queen though," Helaena replied, uncertainty in her voice.

"Your mother is the Queen, but she is not the Blood of the Dragon," Jace said firmly. "Be a dragon," he urged, stroking her hair.

"You don't mean..." Helaena began, her eyes widening.

Jace nodded with a smile. "That can wait till tomorrow though," he said, his voice soothing.

"Will you stay?" Helaena asked, her voice trembling.

"Of course," Jace replied, settling in beside her.

They lay there together, Jace held Helaena close, offering her the comfort and security she desperately needed. They quickly drifted off to sleep as they were both rightfully exhausted.

...

Jace woke up with a start, finding himself back in his room, only Helaena was beside him. It took him a few seconds to gather his bearings. "Oh, I'm back here," he said to himself as he got out of bed. He was back in the dreamland or his mind or whatever this place was.

He looked down at Helaena and instinctively knew she wasn't dreaming, but he could pull her here if he wanted to. "Just like she did to me," he thought. She wasn't actually there—it was just an illusion.

Jace walked over to the balcony, looking out at King's Landing. It was strange; his mind felt clear and he could feel things more acutely than before. "Perhaps the corruption of Valyria affected my mind," he mused.

He felt a strange sense of freedom, similar to how he did on the back of Vermax. Stepping up onto the ledge of the balcony, he laughed at the foolishness of it, knowing nothing bad would happen. He jumped off, but instead of falling down, he fell upwards towards the sky. It looked like he was falling, but it felt different, like he was travelling. "Where am I going?" he wondered.

He kept going faster and faster until the sky blurred. Then, he fell towards the ground again. He slammed into the ground, expecting pain but feeling none. Dusting himself off, he looked around. "Where am I?" he said to himself. He recognized the Blackwater Rush, but the castle on its shore wasn't the Red Keep. It seemed like a partially constructed version. On Aegon's Hill, where Maegor's Holdfast was supposed to be, high wooden walls were present instead.

"Is this Aegonfort?" Jace wondered. He had seen paintings of it many times but seeing it with his own eyes was something else. Behind him, instead of King's Landing, there was a mist that surrounded the entirety of Aegonfort, obscuring his view.

Jace was about to explore when the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He dived to the ground as he heard a guttural roar behind him. The clang of a sword hitting the ground sounded out. Rolling again, he avoided another strike and got to his feet to see his attacker. A large man, almost as big as Hugh, with thick muscles, strained against his tunic. He had short white hair and a close-cropped beard.

'Who just sees a kid and decides to attack them?' Jace wondered as he kept backing up.

"Who are you?" the man growled, wielding what Jace recognized as Blackfyre.

"J-Jacaerys Targaryen," Jace stuttered. The man was frightening in a way Jace couldn't describe. He felt like if he said the wrong thing, he'd be killed on the spot.

The man paused for a moment, but the scowl didn't leave his face. "There is no Jacaerys Targaryen. If you lie again, your death will be even more painful," he growled.

"I am not lying! I am Jacaerys Targaryen, son of Rhaenyra Targaryen, the Heir to the Iron Throne," Jace insisted.

The man didn't look convinced. "The heir to the throne is Aegon, son of Aenys," he stated.

Jace felt confused as his mind raced for answers. He soon realized who the man in front of him was. "You're Maegor the Cruel?" Jace said, his throat suddenly dry. How did he end up here? He remembered Helaena telling him that the dream was a place both in the past, present, and future.

"Maegor the Cruel?" Maegor said with confusion. "I am Maegor Targaryen. Where did you hear this moniker?" he said, lifting his sword towards Jace.

Jace backed up some more. "I am Jacaerys Targaryen. There have been two other kings since your time. My mother will be the queen, and I the king after her."

Maegor kept approaching, his grip on his sword tightening. The boy in front of him had a similar look to Aenys and even his father, Aegon. "Mother was right," he thought to himself. "There is more to these dreams than simple visions."

"Boy," he said sternly. "You call me Maegor the Cruel and suggest I will become king."

"You're not the king now?" Jace asked, confused.

Maegor shook his head. "I am the Hand to my brother Aenys."

"After your brother's death, you return from exile and claim the throne," Jace stated. Everyone knew about Maegor the Cruel in his family. King Jaehaerys had done much to ensure his family never approached that kind of madness and cruelty again.

Maegor lifted his arm and slammed it down, stabbing Blackfyre into the stone courtyard. He had much to think about, but it could wait until he awoke. "Why have you come here, boy?" Maegor asked. He assumed their shared blood connection must be the reason Jace managed to enter his dream.

"I am not sure how I arrived. I just remember getting the urge to jump, knowing if I did, I would fly," Jace answered.

Maegor regarded him for a moment before saying, "Come with me." Jace felt little choice in the matter, still unsure how to leave.

They walked to the main hall in Aegonfort where the Iron Throne was. Maegor didn't sit on it but on a wooden ornate throne at its foot. He gestured to a chair next to it and leaned forward, looming over Jace. "Tell me everything," he instructed.

Jace nodded and began to speak of what Maegor saw as his future and what Jace regarded as his past. He spoke of Jaehaerys and Alysanne and now of Viserys and his mother, and the tension between Rhaenyra and Alicent and how some people preferred Aegon to be the heir. He then described his journey to Valyria, the nightmarish pale men who lived underground and only came out at night, the abomination dragon he killed, and the Queen Firewyrm.

When he finished, Maegor leaned back in his seat. "An interesting tale. Under normal circumstances, I'd have you sent to the rats in Oldtown to fix the madness in your mind. But these are not normal circumstances."

"From what I understand, Viserys is a weak king allowing a civil war to brew between the two sides of your family," Maegor commented. "I would agree with those who say the male should become heir. But from what you've told me of Aegon, he seems weak like his father, only in a different way."

Maegor thought for a moment. "These dreams are strange. When I'm here, I find myself no longer full of the rage and anger that burdens me during my waking moments. I am strangely at peace."

Jace couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at that statement, considering Maegor had almost killed him.

"I am disturbed by the acts you tell me I will commit. While I can admit that I let my anger guide me, burning the Sept of Remembrance seems unlike me," Maegor stated. Minutes passed as Maegor sat in thought. Finally, he stood up, making Jace do the same.

"You said you want to become a warrior. I will show you the way," Maegor stated.

Jace looked confused. 'Can he even do that?' he wondered. "Why would you help me?" he asked.

"You are a Targaryen and will become the king. A weak king will bring our family low. Too many weak kings, and House Targaryen will cease to exist, dragon or no," Maegor stated.

"Come back here when you next sleep," Maegor said. "Now leave me. I have much to think about."

"How do I leave...?" Jace asked, slightly embarrassed.

Maegor scowled. "It's your mind. Will it, and it will happen!" he shouted.

'Wake up!' Jace thought to himself. He found himself falling back into the sky, only to hit something solid and wake up in Helaena's bed, breathing heavily.

His head throbbed with pain, and he could taste blood in his mouth. Touching his lip, he found it dripping from his nose. "What in the seven hells was that?" he said to himself. He would need to talk to Helaena about this dream but for now, he would let her sleep. He silently slipped out of bed noticing that it was close to dawn. He still had some unfinished business.

——————————————————

On a creaky, weather-beaten ship headed towards King's Landing, a bunch of disgusting, degenerate men lounged about, their conversation as filthy as the stench of the bilge below. Their teeth, what few they had left, were yellow and rotting. They leered and laughed, sharing vile fantasies of what they'd do once they had the slaves on board.

"Can't wait to get my hands on some of those Westerosi brats," one man sneered. "They'll fetch a good price in Lys, but maybe I'll have a little fun first..." he licked his lips "Once we get those brats on board, I'll be takin' my pick. Ain't nothin' like breakin' in fresh slaves."

Another man laughed, slapping his knee. "Aye, and the girls, they're always prettier from the Reach. Bet they scream real nice."

"Hope we get some pretty ones this time. Last bunch was too skinny." Another said.

"Shut your traps and keep it in your pants!" the captain barked, striding across the deck with a scowl. "We'll be in King's Landing by noon today. No lollygagging! We need to be quick about this."

Before the men could grumble their replies, an ear-piercing shriek rang out from above the clouds. The men froze, eyes wide with terror as they looked up. They knew that sound, and their hearts sank with dread.

"Seven save us," one muttered, his face turning pale. "Please, not a dragon."

High above, Jace rode Vermax, his silver hair whipping in the wind. He spotted the ship below and felt a surge of righteous fury. Scowling, he leaned forward and whispered one word, "Dracarys."

Vermax roared, his maw opening wide. A torrent of dragon fire shot out in a straight line, searing through the sky towards the ship below.

"Run! Run for your lives!" the captain screamed as soon as he saw the dragon.

But it was too late. Vermax's flame engulfed the ship, wooden planks igniting and men shrieking in terror. The intense heat boiled the surrounding water, turning the sea into a cauldron of steam and fire. Men jumped overboard, only to find themselves cooked alive in the boiling waves.

Jace watched impassively from above, his expression cold and unyielding. As the last remnants of the ship sank beneath the waves, he knew this was only a start. Lys would need a visit soon, to root out this foul practice completely. But for now, a ship full of scum had been wiped from the world.

He turned Vermax away from the smouldering wreckage, satisfied that he had struck a blow against the slavers. The stench of burnt flesh and charred wood lingered in the air, but it was a small price to pay for justice.

Jace headed back to King's Landing, Vermax soaring gracefully through the sky before descending towards the Dragonpit. As the dragon landed, Jace hopped off, feeling the rush of the morning air against his face. He was immediately greeted by Edryck and Ser Erryk.

"I heard you had an interesting night," Edryck said, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow. "And because of it, I'm getting an earful."

"My heart weeps for you, Edryck," Jace replied dryly, removing his gloves and walking past him.

Edryck huffed a little childishly and followed Jace, with Ser Erryk close behind. "Where did you fly to so early in the morning anyway?" Edryck asked, trying to keep up.

"Just a quick tour of Blackwater Bay," Jace replied nonchalantly.

"And the smell of smoke that's stuck to your clothing?" Edryck said with a grin.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jace said, maintaining a blank expression as they all headed back to the Red Keep.

As they reached the courtyard of the Red Keep, Jace saw Daemon waiting for him with two wooden swords in hand. The early morning sun cast long shadows across the stone ground, and a few curious onlookers had already gathered to watch the exchange.

"I'm glad you decided to join me, Jacaerys," Daemon called out, a smirk playing on his lips. "While I've never taken a squire before, I find it hard to imagine that many knights have to search for their squires."

Jace rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "I apologize, Uncle."

"No matter," Daemon said, waving a hand dismissively. "But tomorrow morning, I expect you to be outside of my room regardless of what happened the previous night." He said the last part with a knowing expression, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Jace winced slightly at the insinuation but nodded nonetheless. "Yes, Uncle."

"Good," Daemon said, tossing him one of the wooden swords. "Now let's spar so I can see how you've improved."

(AN: So this is why I've changed the Dragon dreams. Don't expect all of the Targaryen's to be able to do this, however. Jace is special even before Valyria but after Valyria his powers as a dreamer grew because of the worm on his head expanding his mind and growing his power. Similar to the three eyed crow he can visit the past present and future, but only those linked to his bloodline and only those who are dreamers themselves. So no weirwoods or warging I'm afraid. Also don't worry about time changing or stuff like that, when it comes to information of the future like Maegor learned he will not remember it the same way it was told, he will see it as a dream so pretty hazy and with often things being changed like actual dragon dreams. Anyway I'll expand on it more in future chapters. Hope you enjoyed it.)

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