Chapter 74: The Curtain Calls

Third Moon, 132 AC

Rhaenys

How did it come to this? That was the question Rhaenys had asked herself every waking moment since that day. How had it all gone so wrong? Why did she have to suffer like this?

She had lost everything. Her husband, her children, two of her grandchildren, a cousin, and a nephew. Her dragon was gone and even her very body had been all but destroyed. The broken ribs and other injuries might heal one day, but the burns would always be a permanent scar and her right hand would always be lame.

The Stepstones had been lost and the Summer Isles would be soon as well. Dorne and the Stormlands had been razed and destroyed and eight of her family's dragons were dead. She had heard the whispers, the mockery and resentment, the japes at her expense. Rhaenys the Broken they called her. Rhaenys the Burnt, the Dragonless, the Fool. Her legacy was in tatters, as ruined as Storm's End was.

At great pain she turned her head to the left to look at the ruins once again. Before they had arrived earlier that morning, Rhaenys hadn't known she still had tears left to weep but she had shed tears nonetheless when she had finally seen the state of her mother's beloved castle for herself. The great drum tower had collapsed and destroyed all the buildings below, with the surviving stone structures and walls of the castle all twisted and warped beyond recognition from the heat of dragonfire.

She didn't know if the Velaryons had chosen this to be the site of their peace meeting as a show of force, an implicit threat on what they still possessed the power to do. Perhaps it was simply to humiliate her more than they already had out of spite and pettiness as Aemond insisted. Maybe it was neither of those and they had simply chosen Storm's End as a convenient halfway point between King's Landing and Tyrosh.

Did it matter ultimately why they chose Storm's End? Whatever their reasons were, it would not change how Rhaenys felt about it and she would not do the Velaryons the satisfaction of her asking. She would stew in her grief and her anger silently. She would not let them see her cry, nor let them witness her empty rage. She would not lose her composure.

It had taken a whole week of ravens exchanged between King's Landing and Tyrosh before they had settled on the time, terms, and details of the truce and the subsequent peace meeting. The parley was on a cliff near Storm's End. A squadron of Velaryon ships was in the bay below to shuttle and escort the Velaryon delegation to the meeting and back home while a company of gold cloaks did the same for the Targaryen delegation.

The meeting site had been prepared in advance, with three tall standards overlooking it. The Velaryon Sea Dragon banner closer to the sea, the Targaryen Red Dragon further inland, and the peace banner of the Faith of the Seven between them and higher than both; a rainbow-striped flag with seven long tails, on a staff topped by a seven-pointed star. In the middle of the site there was a long table with Rhaenys seated in her wheelchair at the head of the table on the Targaryen side.

The respective delegations were made up of various scribes, maesters, and diplomats whose duty it would be to record the meeting and draft the treaty that would end the Dance of the Dragons. In addition, some distinguished individuals of high importance were also in attendance. On Rhaenys' side there was herself, the Master of Laws, Lord Jasper Wylde, Lord Commander Criston Cole of the Queensguard and two of his sworn brothers, the aforementioned gold cloak company, and Aemond, Helaena, and Gael mounted atop their dragons, Vhagar, Stormcloud, and Syrax.

On the Velaryon side, the delegation was made up of a company of Tide Guard commanded by the Knight of Orange, Ser Jaremy Gottwell, the High Justiciar, the Chief Diplomat, and the Secretary of the Army, Captain General Maratis, one of the two men who had commanded the Velaryon invasion of the Stepstones. There were also supposed to be five Velaryons and their dragons present as well but they were noticeably absent.

She craned her head up gingerly, forcing herself to ignore the worsening pain in her body so that she could see the midday sun climbing ever higher into the sky. Rhaenys then turned to address the Velaryon delegation unimpressed. "It is almost noon. Where are your masters?"

The Knight of Orange replied, his face grim and his voice cold. "They will be here exactly on time. That I can promise you."

Perhaps it was the way he had said it, perhaps it was the hatred in his eyes that he was struggling to hide, but Rhaenys could sense her soldiers and her dragonriders growing anxious at his words. And true enough within a minute of that exchange, they heard roars coming from the clouds.

A thousand thoughts ran through Rhaenys' head, each one filled with fear that this was a trap, that the Velaryon delegation was only a way to trick them into believing that this meeting was genuine and the Velaryons were going to take advantage of their distraction and kill them. Many in her delegation felt uneasy as well. Their nerves grew taut, ready to run or fight in an instant as Telarion, Tessarion, Shrykos, Moondancer, and Morning descended from the sky.

They did not allow themselves to truly relax until the five Velaryon dragons had landed at the meeting site behind their delegation, and even then their guard remained high. The dragons on each side roared and growled at each other, almost deafening everyone else present before their riders calmed them down. Idly Rhaenys wondered what Gael and Helaena must be thinking to see their traitorous and kinslaying daughters and sisters before them.

The rider of Tessarion dismounted from his dragon, dressed from head to toe in gapless Valyrian steel plate armor, with the signature dark smoky swirls on the steel clearly visible even at this distance. The armored dragonrider stalked to the meeting table before he removed his helm, revealing the face of the man Rhaenys hated most in the world now with his parents' deaths. Jacaerys Velaryon.

He set his helm down on the table and greeted her. "Rhaenys Targaryen," he said simply, with no honorifics nor courtesies.

Her Queensguard bristled. "You address the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms Velaryon. You would do well to remember your courtesies," Ser Criston Cole rebuked.

His counterpart, Ser Jaremy Gottwell spoke in turn. "And you would do well to remember yours Cole. You speak to the Emperor of Essos. Mind your tongue."

Before things could escalate further, Jacaerys Velaryon calmed the situation down. "Enough. We are here to make peace not war. I appreciate your loyalty and defense of my honor Lord Jaremy, but it is not necessary and neither you nor Criston Cole have any place speaking in this meeting. Understood?"

If the rebuke displeased the Lord Commander of the Tide Guard, he did not show it, simply bowing his head. "Yes Your Majesty."

As a show of goodwill and a rare moment of agreement and mutual understanding with Jacaerys, Rhaenys ordered her Queensguard similarly. The place of their guards was to protect them and keep silent, to not speak unless asked to.

Jacaerys turned to her. "Queen Rhaenys, I have not yet formally been crowned with my imperial titles but that is only a matter of technicality and pageantry. For all intents and purposes we speak to each other as equals. Shall we dispense with the courtesies and titles then for a cordial and effective dialogue?"

It grated on Rhaenys to recognize Jacaerys Velaryon as her equal but she knew she didn't have a choice. "Very well then, Jacaerys. What are your terms?"

Briefly he turned to the scribes. "Take down all of my words and Queen Rhaenys' exactly from now on. Let the future generations be our witnesses."

Turning back to Rhaenys, he spoke as he sat, every word calm and measured. "On the third day of the third moon of the one hundred and thirty-second year of Aegon's Conquest and the thirty-ninth year of the Age of Zaldilaros, Queen Rhaenys Targaryen and Emperor Jacaerys Velaryon meet outside the ruins of Storm's End to decide the fate of the Known World. Thus are the terms that I, Jacaerys Velaryon, declare must be fulfilled in order to bring a swift and honorable end to this Dance of the Dragons.

"Firstly, House Targaryen and the Iron Throne will relinquish House Zaldilaros Velaryon from any and all oaths of fealty and obligations due them as their liege and recognize House Zaldilaros Velaryon as independent sovereigns and equals in their own right, as the Emperors of Essos and all their other titles from now until the end of time. In exchange House Zaldilaros Velaryon shall do the same with regards to the titles and authority of House Targaryen within its own realm in Westeros.

"Secondly, House Targaryen hereby cedes and relinquishes all claims over the Stepstones and the Summer Isles, though they may keep control of the waters ten miles from the Dornish coast and no further. Furthermore, House Targaryen will acknowledge the right of House Zaldilaros Velaryon and its Empire to set any tolls within the Stepstones at any rates they please and accept those tolls as a condition of passage for its ships unconditionally. In turn, House Velaryon shall cede the island of Driftmark and the attached domains in Massey's Hook to the Iron Throne of Westeros and relinquish all claims to those ancestral lands.

"Thirdly, as an extension of the first two points, House Targaryen will recognize House Velaryon's sphere of influence and its claims to influence and sovereignty over the entirety of the continents of Essos and Sothoryos and of the entire Summer and Shivering Seas save those portions that are in proximity to Westeros; the furthest distance from the coastline and the size of these portions may be negotiated. In return House Velaryon will recognize House Targaryen's sphere of influence over the continent of Westeros and its surrounding waters and the Sunset Sea to the west. The Narrow Sea shall be divided equidistantly between both houses save for near the Stepstones where the second point shall apply. Freedom of navigation in waters for trade and other peaceful purposes is allowed but both houses shall agree to a mutual policy of non-interference in each other's spheres of influence and internal politics.

"Fourthly, House Targaryen and House Zaldilaros Velaryon will recognize each other as rightful dragonlords and will agree to a policy of mutual non-proliferation of dragons outside either house and will cooperate together to that end.

"Fifthly, all hostages and prisoners of war kept by both sides will be returned within two weeks of this treaty's signing. These include members of House Grafton and House Royce-Arryn held by the Targaryens and cadet branches of Houses Hightower, Redwyne, and Lannister held by House Velaryon. All the aforementioned individuals and houses will be monetarily compensated by their respective captors if any bodily harm has been done to them or if they have otherwise received any mistreatment ill-befitting their status.

"House Grafton and House Royce-Arryn, formerly of Gulltown and Runestone will relinquish their claims to their ancestral lands and everything therein and shall be monetarily compensated by House Targaryen as shall House Celtigar, formerly of Claw Isle, not held captive by House Targaryen. The Valyrian steel sword Lamentation will also be returned to House Royce as a rightful heirloom of their house.

"Houses Hightower, Redwyne, and Lannister, formerly of Highwatch, Redwater, and Guardian respectively will forfeit their claims over their ancestral lands to House Zaldilaros Velaryon and will not be compensated for it in any way, shape, or form by House Velaryon. Their status after the war shall be left to their lieges and parent houses to determine.

"In addition, House Targaryen will release Houses Mooton of Grey Gallows, Swann of Scarwood, Darklyn of Dustspear, and Manderly of Serpentholm, each currently held under house arrest by House Velaryon, from their oaths of fealty to them and recognize their new oaths of fealty to House Zaldilaros Velaryon as peers of the Empire of Essos."

So far so good, Rhaenys thought with a little surprise. The terms were surprisingly reasonable if undoubtedly favoring House Velaryon. The first and second points were the most difficult to swallow but she supposed that they were already true and it was time that she recognized that. Rhaenys would soon find however that she had thought too soon as each successive term after that became worse and worse.

"Sixthly, House Zaldilaros Velaryon will return the remains of Princes Aegon, Daemon, and Jaehaerys Targaryen as a show of goodwill. However, it will keep the remains of their dragons due to the difficulty of transport."

Rhaenys smarted at the reminder of the deaths of her kin though she was begrudgingly grateful for the return of their bodies at no further cost and insult to her family. The loss of their dragons' remains stung though and Rhaenys knew full well that the Velaryons were simply using transport difficulties as an excuse. No doubt it would be difficult to return those dragon bodies to their rightful homes and owners but not nearly so difficult to cart them off to Tyrosh and the rest as trophies of war.

No matter, the bodies of the dragons mattered less than those of her family members ultimately when there were already so many other dragon corpses left in Westeros because of this war. Jacaerys' next term had her annoyance grow even more however.

"Seventhly, House Zaldilaros Velaryon will maintain the right to keep the swords Blackfyre, Dawn, and Dragon's Wroth as righteous spoils of war. However, House Targaryen shall be allowed to ransom these blades from House Velaryon and the price of those ransoms may be negotiated."

She knew she should see it as a sign of goodwill that they were even willing to ransom those blades, especially when any other house in Westeros would have simply kept them for themselves but the thought of ransoming her own family's ancestral heirlooms from the enemy who had massacred her kin and pried those weapons from their dead bodies had her blood boiling. Especially when she knew those ransoms would be cripplingly high and they would have no choice but to pay them no matter what because so much prestige and tradition was in those blades, Blackfyre especially, the Sword of Kings.

"Eighthly, House Targaryen will pay a lump sum of indemnities to House Velaryon by year's end; in what form and in what amount may be negotiated further."

That enraged Rhaenys she would not lie. She knew full well that weregilds and the like were commonly imposed on the defeated parties of a war but she failed to see how that applied here or was just in any way. Indemnities to compensate for what? Not a single inch of post-war Velaryon territory nor their people had been even so much as mildly troubled by her house, they had been defeated before anything could happen. Even Driftmark and Massey's Hook, the claims to which they had relinquished anyway, had been destroyed by the Velaryons' own machinations, not theirs.

And weregild? 'Don't make me laugh', Rhaenys thought. What weregild? They had killed seven of her family members and they had only taken three in return! If anyone should be paying weregild it should be the Velaryons! And they would be in any just world!

Nonetheless she grit her teeth and steeled herself so she could hear the next term.

"Ninthly, House Targaryen will acknowledge its guilt in beginning the Dance of the Dragons due to their unjust and unprovoked actions not just at the start of the war but over the course of decades going back to the reign of King Jaehaerys I and his betrayal of his oath to Lord Corlys to grant him overlordship of the Stepstones and his subsequent punitive actions against him. House Targaryen will formally accept all responsibility for the feud between the two houses and the events of the war and extend an apology to the aggrieved party, House Velaryon shall graciously accept their apology in order to bring an end to the feud and usher in a new era of peace and cooperation."

At that Rhaenys could hold back her temper no longer. "Unjust and unprovoked? You Velaryons had assassins all over the Red Keep and King's Landing with daggers aimed at the hearts of my family and advisors! Attack? We didn't attack anything before you hit us by surprise before the war even started! And what's with all these nonsensical claims about a feud started by our grandfather? How is any of that relevant now over forty years later??"

When Jacaerys replied to her outburst, his voice was cold and his tone measured. "Whether you want to believe it or not, our grandfather started everything with his betrayal of my parents all those years ago and you, Daemon, and the rest picked up his banner and carried on the feud against his last wishes and the wishes of your parents, my uncles and aunt. For decades now the vast majority of House Targaryen has opposed my family and constrained and threatened us unjustly and that must be acknowledged and amends made for it by House Targaryen.

"As for all this talk of assassins you speak of; what assassins? What evidence do you have? I see none of it and you have not presented any either. All there is are your claims and I and my house vehemently reject those absurdities. On the other hand, Rhaenys, there are hundreds of witnesses who can attest on the public record that you and your house embarked on a mass deployment to war against House Velaryon the day before the war began. Ostensibly because you discovered assassins from our house in your domain but with no evidence can you prove your claims or is it not just more likely to have been conspired by yourself and your spymaster to rally your house behind you as you moved against us?"

Rhaenys clenched her fists in rage and frustration. She truly, from the bottom of her heart, despised Jacaerys Velaryon and his entire accursed family, but he was right. She couldn't prove anything. Their only proof had been the word of two spies, confessions extracted by torture. Easily refuted by a victorious party like House Velaryon was, especially since they no longer had those spies in their custody since they had been broken out by brethren and all the rats had since vanished! And so she stayed silent.

She remained that way even as Jacaerys presented his final term. "Tenth and lastly, both House Targaryen and House Zaldilaros Velaryon do hereby swear to put aside their animosities and honor the terms of this treaty, swearing to safeguard and uphold an eternal peace and mutual respect."

It was almost unthinkable to imagine the idea of peace and respect between her house and the Velaryons right now but Rhaenys knew that she had to give her answer; the fate of her family depended on it. And yet despite all her will, no words came forth from her mouth. Perhaps it was her anger holding her back, perhaps it was the tattered remnants of her pride, but Rhaenys could not bring herself to give her answer.

Jacaerys soon tired of her silence. "Is your silence indicative of your acceptance of these terms?" he demanded.

"Do I have a choice?" she asked bitterly.

"No." His reply was curt and decisive.

"Then I accept," she said begrudgingly at last.

In an instant Jacaerys' cold expression became falsely warm and friendly, a sickeningly sweet smile on his face. "Wonderful. Let us then negotiate over the finer details."

For the next two hours their respective delegations haggled and bickered over the details like fishmongers in a market, arguing over the most mundane things like the deadlines for the compensations given to the prisoners being exchanged and the exact borders of their respective spheres of influence within the Summer, Shivering, and Narrow Seas, as if those arbitrary lines on a map would have any true meaning when one was out at sea, even Rhaenys knew that much.

Their only true victory in a day that had otherwise overwhelmingly favored the Velaryons was when the Velaryon delegation had acknowledged their argument that the financial burden of both the indemnities and ransoms both after the razing of Dorne and the Stormlands was too great for House Targaryen to bear, especially since no actual damage had been done to any Velaryon territory that they had not relinquished their claims to throughout the entire war.

Thus the Velaryons had agreed to greatly reduce the indemnities that they were asking for though they still remained high enough that most noble houses in Westeros save but the wealthiest and most powerful would balk at paying that amount so simply even if they could afford it without any long-term repercussions. However, they would not budge on the exorbitantly high price they had set the ransoms for the three swords.

The Velaryon argument was that since Valyrian steel and whatever star metal Dawn was made out of were both exceptionally rare and valuable materials, and all three swords were storied and prestigious and had been taken as just spoils of war after the supposedly unprovoked Targaryen attack on their house, the price could not be reduced. Even if that argument was acknowledged, Rhaenys knew the Velaryons had so much Valyrian steel they wouldn't even blink at the loss, they just wanted to bleed her coffers dry. However, like so many things lately, she had no choice but to accept the ransom price as it was set by the Velaryons.

Throughout all of this haggling and negotiating, Rhaenys did her best to ignore the growing pain in her body, a lasting symptom of her grievous injuries at the hands of her accursed aunt and her husband. By the end of the meeting, she had mostly been delegating all the negotiating entirely to her advisors and she almost collapsed when she had to sign both copies of the rapidly drafted treaty made by the scribes.

Nonetheless she had pushed on, refusing to show any more weakness than she already had in front of the Velaryons. She breathed a loud sigh of relief when the Velaryon delegation finally left and once they and their dragons were all well on their way back to their new 'empire', she desperately called for the Maester to give her milk of the poppy to help her sleep and dull the pain.

When she finally awoke hours later, she found herself back in her chambers in King's Landing. One of the others must have brought her back here to the Red Keep and the expert care of the Grand Maester and his acolytes at post haste on their dragon.

As she groaned and struggled to raise herself up, her grandson supported her. "Don't strain yourself too much Grandmother," he said.

"Thank you Aemond," she said, breathing heavily.

They sat there silently for a while, both of them just brooding on their dark thoughts. Finally, Aemond spoke.

"So… peace."

"Yes… peace." Rhaenys knew exactly how he felt about it. They might have made peace with House Velaryon but how would they ever have peace again in their hearts after everything that they had lost?

Because their loss was far more than just the losses they had taken in the war fighting the Velaryons or what they had been forced to give them in the supposed peace treaty that had ended the war. Their defeat in the war, the events of the infamous first day and their refusal to face the Velaryons in battle again after that even to the detriment of their own vassals, had destroyed their reputation as the preeminent dragonlords in the Known World.

From now on, when the people of the Known World thought of dragonlords, the first name that came to mind would not be Targaryen but Zaldilaros Velaryon. In a single day they had slain eight of their dragons, losing only three of their own in return. An overwhelming victory for House Velaryon and a humiliating and crushing defeat for House Targaryen.

"Only at the start of this year we had everything and now we have nothing," her grandson said, haunted. "Half of our family is dead and their dragons with them. The Stormlands, Dorne, and all the resources we spent developing them have all been destroyed. Our vassals grow defiant and bold. They think us weak, they think us cowards and oathbreakers for leaving them to the mercy of the Velaryons and the firestorms they created. And now there are whispers of a great plague spreading in the ports and treasonous whispers that this so called Winter Fever is proof the Seven have turned against us. The Velaryons might have shown us their pretentious excuse for mercy but if any gods truly do exist, they clearly aren't done with us. Where do we even go from here?" Aemond asked hopelessly.

With a resolve she didn't know she still had, Rhaenys answered. "Forward. That's all we can do now."

The days in which their house was the most powerful family in the world, unquestionable and absolute, had come to a permanent end. They had less than half the number of dragonriders the Velaryons did now and even less dragons when one considered the unridden spares in the Myrish dragonpit. But though they were now undeniably lesser than their kinslaying cousins, dragonlords they still remained. The game was not over for House Targaryen, far from it.

In Aemond she saw the future of their house. A youthful and vigorous young man who had been groomed and raised to rule ever since he was born. A charismatic and charming prince, a promising future king, and perhaps most importantly of all in these dark times, the rider of Vhagar. The old dragon might have only three or four good decades left in her but it would be long enough. It had to be.

"The challenges facing our house are great indeed Aemond. I think they are the worst they have ever been ever since my grandfather first came to the throne. But I am certain that you will be able to rise to the challenge and become one of the greatest kings our dynasty has ever seen. One day they will call you Aemond the Restorer because you have restored our pride and our honor."

Aemond swelled with pride before he became downcast. "And what about you?" he asked sadly.

"I'll be dead soon enough. I failed and history will not be kind to me for it. So be it. You will succeed where I failed. You must."

"I will Grandmother," he promised her.

"Good. Now tell me, how will you go about doing that? You are already serving splendidly as my Prince Regent I hear, despite your young age. What is something that you can do today itself?" Rhaenys coaxed, trying to teach and test her heir.

"With the peace treaty signed, we must decide what happens next. The ransoms, indemnities, and prisoners and so forth must be transferred to the Velaryons at post haste lest we give them an excuse to resume the war. We must also see to the safe removal of all our forces from the Summer Isles and ensure they stand down, as well as to the safe arrival of the prisoners taken in the Stepstones."

"And what else? What of the lands we have acquired as a result of the peace? Meager gains as they are, what shall be done with them?" she prodded.

Aemond took a deep breath. "In my capacity as Prince of Dragonstone, and by your leave Grandmother, I will take for myself all the lands and vassals that House Velaryon and House Celtigar once ruled over in the Crownlands. All of Crackclaw Point from Rook's Rest to Claw Isle, Wendwater and all of Massey's Hook including Sharp Point and Sweetport Sound. And of course, Stonedance and Driftmark. Much work will have to be done to repair them and restore the fiefs to their former glory but their positions are strategic and can only be to our house's benefit. It will also allow us some vengeance no matter how petty on the Velaryons by making their ancestral lands truly our own."

"What of the Grafton and Royce lands then? And House Mooton and House Arryn? The Mootons have designs on Crackclaw Point, remembering some ancient claim, and the Arryns desire Gulltown and Runestone to cement their control of the Vale. Will you allow them this?" she asked.

"Absolutely not," Aemond replied. "The Mootons' claim to Crackclaw Point is meaningless, they never truly controlled any part of the peninsula. Nor did they distinguish themselves well enough to deserve it. No Crackclaw Point I will keep, for myself and for our house. As for Gulltown and Runestone, the Graftons and Royces are gone but that does not mean we can simply let the Arryns have it. Not when they are also seeking to centralize their control of the Vale and they have aspirations for dragons and the blood to claim them if we are not watchful enough to stop it, same as the Mootons.

"No, I will not let a future rival grow stronger as my great-grandfathers did with the Velaryons. Gulltown and Runestone both will go to a loyalist of ours and the Arryns will simply have to be content that House Grafton and House Royce and their grasping claim for the Eyrie are gone. House Scales has served our family well on Dragonstone for many, many years, and I think making them the Lords of Gulltown and Runestone would be a fine way to both reward them and put a check on the Arryns."

"House Scales? You mean Ser Merrel and his family? The knight I tasked with the command of Windwyrm Tower in Dragonstone?"

"The very same. His house are dragonseeds. They have our blood from afar and they are fiercely loyal and have been for decades. Granting them Gulltown and Runestone will give us a very powerful ally in the Vale to undermine the Arryns and strengthen our influence in the region."

Rhaenys nodded approvingly. "And what titles will you take to signify your rule of all the lands you have taken for Dragonstone?"

"For myself and for all the future heir apparents of our dynasty, the titles will be as such: Prince of Dragonstone, Lord of the Claw and Hook, Master of Driftmark, and Warden of the Gullet."

Rhaenys nodded. "Good titles. Strong, proud titles. And what of when you are King? What shall you do then?"

"I will declare myself High King of Westeros," he said resolutely.

That surprised Rhaenys a little. "Interesting. And what is your reasoning for this title? Will it replace our current ones? Please elaborate."

"The Velaryons want to be Emperors of Essos don't they? Then we shall match their title in a way that does not appear like we are copying them, nor abandons Aegon the Conqueror's legacy. We will still keep all his titles, still be kings and not emperors or archons or other such foreign and Velaryon terms."

Rhaenys was impressed with her grandson's astuteness and she grew more and more hopeful for the future of their house. "What else?"

"I will continue your work centralizing the realm. The war might have been decided by dragons on the first day but even without dragons the centralized and united Velaryon State and their Army and Navy destroyed ours with ease. We must match them."

"And what if our vassals protest these measures? What if they rebel, emboldened by our apparent weakness after the Dance? Or as you mentioned the Winter Fever, believing that we are no longer favored by the Seven in our rule over the realm?"

"Then I will do as Aegon the Conqueror, Maegor the Cruel, and Jaehaerys the Conciliator did all over again if I have to. I will break Westeros and mold it in my image, in the image of our house, once more."

Few things could make Rhaenys smile anymore after that day but smile she did nonetheless. She had only one last question for her grandson today.

"And of the Velaryons? What do you plan to do about them in the future?"

At that Aemond clenched his fists in barely suppressed rage before he reluctantly calmed himself down. Begrudgingly, almost as if each word pained him, he spoke. "I will not pursue war against them. It is clear now that there are no benefits in doing so and our respective spheres of influence have been delineated well enough that we have little reason to clash beyond vengeance and pride."

"Wise," Rhaenys praised. Wiser than she had been. He had learned from her and Aegon's mistakes. Good.

"But neither will I be content to let our house be surpassed forever and left to languish at their mercy," Aemond continued with a passionate fervor that left Rhaenys feeling absolutely certain in his vision for their family. "We will train harder than ever before to match their skills. We will breed and rear more dragons. And we will scour every arcane text and tome in the Citadel, find and learn from every Essosi warlock or witch in the woods if we have to. If the Velaryons can use magic, why not us? Why were we such fools to let the biases of the Andals and Faith color our views on our heritage and throw away such a great advantage? It is time that we the last scions of the Forty Families of old return to our roots as true dragonlords, sorcery and all. House Targaryen will rise again."

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Eighth Moon, 132 AC

Jacaerys

"Your Majesty," the ever loyal Jaremy Gottwell called out to him. Jace turned to face him from where he had been looking at himself in the vanity. "It is time."

"Just a little bit longer Jaremy," Jace said, as he turned back and fiddled with his uniform a little longer. His outfit was similar to the one he had worn at the Triunification, but even more ornate and grander, with all the ceremonial pomp and pageantry as befit his new status.

"You are impeccably dressed my liege. As always. Every inch an emperor. Your parents would be proud of you," Jaremy said.

"But they're not here. And neither is Luke. What is the point of victory when the ones you most wanted to share it with are gone?" he asked aloud.

Jaremy had a wistful smile on his face as he spoke. "Lord Corlys had the same sentiment many times throughout his life. When he finally restored Valyrian steel to the house with Riptide but his grandfather who had raised him was no longer there to see it. Or when we emerged victorious at last in Tyrosh but Ser Rhaekar had already perished. Lord Corlys, and Princess Viserra as well, asked that very same question then but yet they moved on, they persevered. These things happen in life sire, and there is naught for us to do but to keep moving forward."

"When did you become so wise Lord Jaremy?" Jace said with a somber but teasing smile.

"I have always been wise sire," he chided lightly. "You just didn't see it until now."

"No. I suppose I did not. Thank you for your counsel Lord Jaremy. I hope that you will continue to protect and advise me as steadfastly as you did my parents."

"Always sire… and if I may, your parents died an honorable and legendary death. A death they themselves chose. They knew it was their time to die just as they knew that it was yours to rule, and they entrusted it all to you in a way that history will never forget."

"I would rather have my parents don't you think Lord Jaremy?" Jace asked bitterly.

"As would I Your Majesty. I begged them to come with us when we departed, and so did Lucerys and the others when they did as well. But if there was one thing your parents were known for, it was their pride and their convictions and they maintained those to the very end. That at least we can admire, and we can respect and accept their last choices and carry the legacy they have left us forward for all time."

"I suppose you are right," Jace said.

In the months since the Dance of the Dragons had ended, Jace had finally been able to bring himself to properly read the last memoirs his father had entrusted to him. He had shared them with Daeron and Laena as well. None of them knew if they could truly understand or even forgive their parents for the choice they had made but they had all accepted it at the very least.

It was the way their parents had chosen to die and they had done it extraordinarily. They could not begrudge them their choice, especially not now that their legend had cemented in the hearts of their people and the singers sang of their legendary last stand and their bodies intertwined beneath the sea in the wreckage of the Sea Snake and the bones of Dreamfyre.

Perhaps, like his father had said in his apology, Jace would understand himself in some way when he had reached the age his father was then and imagined having to destroy his life's work with his own hands and give it to his enemy without a fight. He had a feeling he'd make a similar decision to his parents. All of them had always known that he was the most like them.

The rest of what his father had rambled about in the book about past lives, dreams, alternate futures, and strange otherworldly knowledge had given the three of them a headache though. Jace found it hard to wrap his head around the concept and he imagined that was why his father had never told them directly while he was alive, though in hindsight he did always seem to know things the rest of them didn't, make references to things they didn't understand, almost like they were inside jokes. Turns out they were.

He would put the knowledge his father had given him with his last gift to good use and he would always remember and honor his parents and their legend, their sacrifice. He hadn't truly forgiven them nor accepted their unnecessary death yet but he felt that in time soon he would, and he would feel better for it. But Jace didn't know if he had the strength to do the same for his other half as well.

"And what about Luke?" he asked.

Ser Jaremy's smile faded. "Your brother was like a son to me. The boy I trained and raised until he was one of the finest warriors I've ever seen. The finest man. His loss was a tragedy and we are all lesser for it. He shall be deeply missed."

At that Jace struggled not to cry. Ever since that day, nothing in the world had felt right. All his life he had Luke by his side, even from the very womb. They had been inseparable, undividable, two halves of one person it had felt like at times, and now he was dead. He wondered if this was how his brother had felt when he had fallen sick and almost died in Gogossos all those years ago. If it had felt anything like this then, he wished that he could slap his past self for being so selfish and apologize to Luke but he couldn't. His twin was gone.

Jaremy was not done yet however. "Luke died doing what he knew best, what he lived his whole life doing, what I taught him to do. He lived as Lucerys the Loyal to the very end, giving up his life for you, the brother that he adored and followed, the man that he trusted to lead him and the whole house in all things. Grieve his loss Jace," he said, foregoing his title for once, "but do not dishonor your brother's sacrifice by languishing in your guilt for his death."

"So what do I do then?" he asked, desperate because he did not know.

Jaremy's answer was quick and to the point. "Live sire. Live. Fulfill all your wildest dreams and ambitions. Become the man your parents and your brother all knew that you were born to be."

Jace straightened where he stood as he felt his heart swell with pride and resolve at the Lord Commander's words.

"Thank you, Jaremy."

The loyal old knight nodded. "It is my pleasure, sire. And we really best be going now. You don't want to be late for your own coronation."

Jace allowed himself a laugh at that. "You are right. I do not."

It was only the strength and skill of the Tide Guard that saw them to the Sept of Liberty in due time. It was a jubilant and festive day in the city of Tyrosh and the streets were full to the brim with dancing and cheerful people. They had much to celebrate indeed, for not only was today the twelfth anniversary of the Triunification but it was also Empire Day, the day that the Empire of Essos would formally begin its existence, starting with Jace's very own coronation.

Upon spotting him riding astride his horse, the crowds went wild and tried to surround and cheer for him but the Tide Guard saw him through it even as he waved to the fanatic and jubilant crowds who chanted his name and seven blessings to his reign, his house, and his family.

He even heard many chanting the Velaryon house words or their motto for victory and quite a few thanked him as well for winning the Dance of the Dragons and putting the Targaryens in their place, which had been something that been continuously celebrated all over the Triarchy ever since the peace treaty had been signed or even before and had continued and mixed with today's celebrations as well it seemed.

When he finally got to the Sept of Liberty, Jace had even more of a flashback to the Triunification twelve years earlier as the crowds were, with the aid of bands, bards, and minstrels that were most definitely not Conches in disguise or paid by them, singing 'Rule Velaryon' at the top of their lungs. The lyrics of the song had changed yet again, with the word 'Triarchs', which had replaced 'Tyroshi' after the Triunification twelve years ago, now replaced in turn with the word, 'Essosi.'

"Rule, Velaryon! Velaryon rules the waves:

"Essosi never, never, never shall be slaves!"

Those lyrics were both a boast and an oath because Jace and his heirs would see it done. One day their empire would spread over all of Essos and the chains of slavery would be broken over the whole continent.

The crowds cheered as he walked up the stairs beneath the Statue of Liberty to the sept just as they had twelve years ago. But unlike that day where they had also cheered his parents and siblings, this day was Jace's alone. Only one name would be chanted and cheered today. His name.

As he walked into the Sept of Liberty flanked by his guards, the cheers grew even louder if that was possible as all the lucky smallfolk allowed into the sept cheered alongside all the peers of the realm, the bureaucrats and councilors, the generals and admirals, and of course, House Velaryon itself, both Minor and Major.

The coronation had been delayed so long for a number of reasons. First among them was practicality, so that they could receive in full all the indemnities, ransoms, and hostages that the Targaryens had promised in the treaty, and to complete the conquest and consolidation of the Stepstones and the Summer Isles. The latter especially as it had still not been done at the time the Dance had ended and they had needed to send some dragonriders down there to finish the job.

They had wanted the Empire of Essos' founding borders to include Pentos, the Stepstones, and the Summer Isles and for them to be consolidated enough for that to be reasonable and to have the oaths of fealty from those regions at this coronation, the wait had been deemed necessary. Jace thought it was a success though now as he saw members of Pentos' Forty Families and the Tyroshi Exiles (those nobles his parents had exiled there from Tyrosh forty years ago) present alongside his cousin Maegon Mooton, his wife Johanna Swann, their children, and House Manderly and House Darklyn, all formerly from the Stepstones.

In the end they had decided that the four defecting Stepstones noble houses would not be allowed to keep their fiefs or even their castles in the Stepstones as the region was far too strategic and important to be given as lands and estates to peers. Jace had however allowed them to keep all of their possessions and wealth and pay for their removal to any new home they wished, and had compensated them with business assets and manses in the Empire's major cities and vast landed estates in the countryside and of course, the promised peerage titles and ranks.

Each of the family heads had received the title and rank of Warden to pass on to their children though in the case of his cousin Maegon and his wife Johanna, Jace had given Johanna only that of Keeper since their joint heir was their eldest son Maekar and he saw little point in letting one man have two Warden peerages if he did not have to.

Since the senior line of House Mooton was still extant and powerful back in Westeros, Jace found it a little funny that he and the Targaryens both would have a branch of House Mooton sworn to them. Truly House Mooton were the heirs of the Whore of Maidenpool. His aunt Saera still lived if he recalled correctly, he wondered what she thought of the vastly different paths in life her sons had taken. He would have to remember to ask Maegon. As he looked around, he found Maegon and the other nobles in the crowd and nodded to them in acknowledgement before continuing his walk to the altar.

Though many peers had been created from Pentos and Stepstones, none had been created in the Summer Isles. The Targaryens had done their job too well when they had conquered the islands as just about each and every single one of the local lords had either been their cronies or that of the South Sea Company's. In other words, untrustworthy and in need of removing. Perhaps it was for the best though. As Daeron and others in his family had noted before, they did prefer for their peers to have as much Valyrian descent as possible for blood purity reasons.

Another reason why they had delayed the coronation was so that there would be time for Rhaelle and the other children as well as for his cousins Malentine, Vaemond, and their families to return from Velos. Other than his and his siblings' younger children whom they had obviously wanted home in time for such a historic event, Vaemond's presence was quite key seeing as Jace had chosen him to be his new Imperial Chancellor. He crushed the dark thought that whispered that Luke should have been his chancellor not Vaemond.

The third and last reason was symbolic. By having his coronation and thus the formal beginnings and proclamation of the Empire of Essos take place on the anniversary of the Triunification, they were stressing the legal continuity of their new empire with the Velaryon State going back not just to the Triarchy but to the Archonate of Tyrosh and even all the way back to Driftmark itself. It would also give the history books and the people one less date to remember and the combined celebrations of Triunification and Empire Day would be fun indeed for future generations though Jace imagined the latter would take increasingly more precedence over the coming years until the former was remembered only as a stepping stone.

As he approached the altar, Jace noticed the three Archseptons waiting. The Pentoshi Archsepton had not yet been chosen and the Zaldilaros Cult had not yet built enough of a presence in the Summer Isles to merit an Archsepton as of yet, so for now these three were the highest ranking members of the Holy Synod. Archsepton Daenar Naharis of Tyrosh, Archsepton Maekar of Lys, and Archsepton Janos of Myr.

In the pews surrounding and closest to the altar, Jace noticed many distinguished guests. All of advisors, the newly renamed Imperial Council were present as were all of his top generals and admirals, several other high ranking members of the Faith and the bureaucracy and the aforementioned peers of the realm, both old and newly raised from the recently annexed territories.

The Celtigars, the Graftons, and the Royces were here too, technically the latter still called themselves Royce-Arryns but with their claim to the Vale and their lands gone, Jace wondered if that would be the case forever. Much like the defecting Stepstones houses, all of the aforementioned three had been compensated and rewarded with vast landed estates, business assets and properties, and peerages in the Empire. As thanks for their long years of faith and alliance, and to make up for what they had lost in Westeros, Jace had made all three houses Marshalls, a rank higher than anyone else save members of House Velaryon.

It was not the peers or the septons or councilors that most caught Jace's attention however but his family, as House Zaldilaros Velaryon and the senior most lines of Velaryon Minor (those descended from his uncles) were seated closest to the altar in a place of great honor.

Among the people, the mood was one of unrestrained and jubilant joy. With the exception of the few soldiers who had perished in the conquests of the Summer Isles and Stepstones, the Velaryon Empire had taken no loss in life whatsoever except for the three Velaryons and dragons who had perished and that had not dampened the mood among the commons.

Yes, Lord Corlys, Princess Viserra, and Lord Lucerys had died, but their deaths had been honorable and legendary sacrifices, fit for songs and tales. The people mourned their loss but they celebrated their achievements in both life and death even more than they mourned. To them, Corlys, Viserra, and Lucerys had been beloved but distant figures and rulers, figures who had heroically sacrificed themselves so the people need not suffer the predations of the Targaryens.

In all other aspects the war was a victory the likes of which they had never seen before, one that surpassed even the Triunification, the Chimera Cull, the Retribution Against Slaver's Bay, and the Morghon Riots. In the Dance of the Dragons, they had defeated the Targaryens decisively, won their independence, and created an empire in what was effectively a single moon.

Though the loss of the Hook and Driftmark was disappointing, years of preparation had removed almost all of their importance away to the lands that would now make up the Empire and so their loss was barely felt, especially when Driftmarkers and Hookmen made up such a tiny and negligible part of the populace. Many even considered it a necessary sacrifice to fully detach from Westeros and ultimately the loss of Driftmark and the Hook was nothing compared to the gain of the Stepstones and the Summer Isles nor the humiliation of the hated Targaryens at such a low cost. Now they looked forward to a great new future and an imperial golden age under Jace's aegis.

But while the people rejoiced, Jace and his family grieved. The people did not see how Rhaena had become a shadow of her former self, broken from the loss of so much of her kin and filled with so many regrets for how she had treated Luke in the time she had had with him before it was too late.

The people did not know how Daeron and Laena mourned their parents and brother and even Aegon and their Targaryen kin in some way and wished to get away from all of the grief and years of stress to follow their dreams. Come the new year, they would take the Dawn Treader, Shrykos, and their youngest children and they would go explore and voyage around the world without restraint and there was naught that Jace could do to convince them otherwise.

They had done their duty they had told him. Seventeen years of it. No more. They were leaving him to go gallivanting around the world and Jace was happy for them, he really was. Maybe once their children were grown and less in need of safety and stability, Daeron and Laena could even end up surpassing their father, Jaenara Belaerys, and Lomas Longstrider combined, circumnavigating the world and finding new wonders and lands.

Yet Jace could not dismiss the sting of betrayal in his heart knowing that his last remaining siblings were choosing to abandon him for adventures rather than stay by his side and help him rule. If Luke was still here, perhaps he wouldn't have minded so much but he wasn't, and Jace would be all alone when Daeron and Laena left.

Rhaena was of little worth as a companion right now, sad as it may be, and the children were not his peers or equals, he always had to be the strong and wise father and uncle to them. Many of them, especially Luke's children needed him to be strong for them now that their father was gone and their mother was lost in her grief.

And Baela? Words failed to describe the complexity in his and Baela's relationship now. It was a love that hurt them as much as it saved them, as poison as much of a cure. Bitter, sweet, angry, joyful, and tragic all in one. So much grief, guilt, and pain between the two of them and no one to take it out on but each other.

They didn't even make love anymore, neither of them were in the emotional and mental state for gentle loving sex, neither felt like they deserved it deep down. These days whenever they took each other, it was only rough, savage, and animalistic, pain and pleasure all mixed into one, but it was the only thing that made them feel alive.

Yet despite everything, the only happiness either of them could still find was in each other and in the children, both their own and those that they had no choice but to raise with Luke's death, Rhaena's despair, and Daeron and Laena's plan to go exploring the world while their eldest children ironically desired to stay at home.

And they were adding one more child into all of that, one more life that would be their responsibility. It seemed that all of that rough fucking they had been doing to distract themselves in the past few months had had a natural consequence. Baela had told him that she was with child only a few weeks ago.

In hindsight they probably should have expected it. He was only forty and three and Baela thirty and five. It shouldn't have been a surprise, Valaena was only three after all, and they were both still young, fertile, and healthy. Yet perhaps both of them had not felt it anymore, having been aged beyond their years by the griefs and stresses of the Dance.

It would be their sixth child. A sixteenth grandchild his parents would never see, a niece or nephew his brother would never know, one they intended to name in his honor. Lucera if a girl, Lucerys if a boy. It was a good name, a strong, loyal name. Jace only hoped that he could do right by his youngest child in a way he hadn't their namesake.

In a way he hadn't their mother and aunt. Baela and Rhaena… it still crushed Jace's heart to even think about what they had been forced to do. To murder their own brother and the cousin that had been a sister to them, to aid and abet in the murder of their father, their other cousin and their niece and nephew. It was unimaginable and it was why he could never blame them for lashing out the way they had.

They hadn't even wanted to go to the negotiations, too afraid to face their mother or their sister. Corlys had all but forced them to once he had learned that all of the Targaryens' remaining adult riders would be present, insisting that their skills and their dragons would be needed to help keep the peace. 'This is the price you must pay if you want peace,' he had told them.

In the end they had never spoken to Gael or Helaena, never had any closure or confrontation. Because what could you even say in such a scenario? How could there be any forgiveness or reconciliation? There was no going back, and there was nothing but blood and betrayal tying them together at that point. It was better not to play with fire any more than they had and leave things be.

The rest of the ceremony passed in a blur as the three Archseptons rattled on about doctrines that Jace's family had made up and gods they didn't believe in and a creed that was little more than useful propaganda. Much like the lyrics of Rule Velaryon, a slight amendment had been made to the Creed, with the new version being said for the first time today.

"I believe in the indivisible unity and the unquestionable legitimacy of the Velaryon Empire and its Faith. I confess one enlightenment, and I look forward to the liberation of all men and the goodness of the world to come." Empire, not State. A meaningless one-word difference at first glance but it changed everything.

Because that was what today was all about wasn't it? Empire Day. The day the Empire was proclaimed, the day its first true Emperor was crowned. Oh Jace had already posthumously made his parents Emperor and Empress for the historical record, but he doubted they would ever truly be referred to as such since they never held it in life. It was simply to honor them and to make for easy continuity since they were the founders of the Zaldilaros dynasty and the ordinal and the line of succession had already been proclaimed to start with them twelve years ago in the Triunification.

When the time came for his son Corlys to take the throne, it would be as Corlys, the Second of his Name, not the First, because Corlys the First was his grandfather and the Sea Snake could not be so easily forgotten whether he had ever actually held the title of Emperor or not. Yet regardless of the honorary and posthumous imperial titles that had been given to Jace's parents, history would remember him and not them as the one who had truly created the Empire of Essos and the one whose crowning represented the official proclamation of its existence.

Jacaerys the Fearless who had led them into battle against chimeras and dragons alike, never daunting, never cowering. Jacaerys the Victor who had won the Dance of the Dragons, the most awesome war the Known World had seen since the Doom. Jacaerys the Emperor who had created the Velaryon Empire. Jacaerys the Great whose accomplishments had surpassed his parents and would be remembered for all time.

Jace figured that he should be happy shouldn't he? He had done it. He had fulfilled his ambitions. He had accomplished each and every single thing he had dreamed of doing ever since he was a boy. He had once longed for an epithet like his parents and siblings and now he had four. He had surpassed his parents in all aspects save their legendary death.

History would forever remember him as the warlord who had conquered Gogossos, Lys, Myr, Pentos, the Stepstones, and the Summer Isles. The fearless warrior who had defeated the Targaryens and won freedom for his house and his people. The visionary who had created the richest realm since the Doom, one that would only grow and grow until it was the greatest the world had ever known, surpassing even Valyria itself one day.

He had wanted an empire; he had gotten one. His imperial regalia was the grandest the world would ever know, a testament to the wealth and power of his empire. Fine vestments made of silks and velvets threaded with gold and silver and embedded with gemstones. Accessories made of the finest and most precious metals, gems, and Valyrian steel. Signet rings, bracelets, necklaces, and other finery, meant to not only show off his grandeur but also represent his power.

The Three Great Crown Jewels were beyond compare however, and the Archseptons gave him each in turn. First Archsepton Maekar of Lys placed in his left hand the Opal Orb, a silvered ball of solid Valyrian steel, braced with opals and topped by a seven-pointed star to represent his power over the Zaldilaros Cult and its faithful.

Then Archsepton Janos of Myr gave him the Sapphire Sceptre to hold in his right hand, a Valyrian steel rod inlaid in gold and topped with a massive and brilliantly rich dark blue sapphire. A symbol of his power, of his sovereign authority over all temporal matters.

And lastly, Archsepton Daenar Naharis of Tyrosh placed upon his head the Imperial Crown of Essos, a crown that would forever hold his name Jace knew. The Crown of Jacaerys the Great historians would call it or perhaps simply Jacaerys' Crown. A wondrous circlet of Valyrian steel, edged and embossed in silver so that it shone, with seven aquamarines inlaid in it, each a different shade of blue or sea-green. Every color the ocean could take some might say, or others would claim they represented the various banners and colors of House Velaryon, the Tide Guard, the Army, the Navy, and all those other institutions.

The crown was the centerpiece. It symbolized his power and dignity as Emperor in itself alone, with the Orb and Sceptre as its mere companions. And with the crown on his head, the Archsepton of Tyrosh proclaimed proudly to the crowd his titles as their monarch.

"All hail His Imperial Majesty, Jacaerys of the House of Zaldilaros Velaryon, the First of his Name; By the Light of the Seven, Emperor of Essos, Sovereign of the Summer Sea, Lord of the Tides, and Supreme Defender of the Faith," the Archsepton declared, zeal in his eyes.

"Long live the Emperor!" the crowd chorused and repeated, over and over again.

As they did so, Jace ruminated on what the titles meant. Emperor of Essos, for he claimed hegemony over the whole continent and one day his heirs would make that claim truth. Sovereign of the Summer Sea, to represent his suzerainty over the Stepstones, the Summer Isles, Naath, the Basilisk Isles, Velos, and Viserria, and his mastery over all the waters of the sea in which most of the world's trade passed.

Lord of the Tides, his only inheritance from his father and his predecessors when they had ruled from Driftmark, signifying his family's ancestral claim to dominance over the world's oceans, a claim they had made true now that the Velaryon Navy ruled the waves. And Supreme Defender of the Faith, an amalgamation of the titles his parents had jointly held as Supreme Head and Defender of the Faith, representing his supreme authority over the Zaldilaros Faith and his sole right as their champion and defender through military force, forbidding them any arms of their own.

As he rose to his feet, and turned where he stood to face the crowd, their chants turned from 'Long live the Emperor' to 'The Old, the True, the Brave' and 'Velaryon and Victory.'

Velaryon and Victory. A motto and battle cry more accurate now than ever before. In the eyes of the entire Known World, they had won. Jace had won. He had defeated the Targaryens, crushed half of their house and dragons beneath his wake and created a grand empire in their ruin.

Facing the crowd however, Jace's eyes met Baela's. He saw in them love and adoration but it was tainted with grief, guilt, and bitterness. His victory turned to ash in his mouth.

Ever since he was a boy, Jacaerys' ambition, his desire to not only live up to his parents' legacy but surpass it, had defined him. He had fulfilled that ambition, he had gotten everything he had thought he wanted, and it had cost him everything he hadn't known he needed.

His parents were dead. His twin was dead. His remaining siblings had deserted him. He was a butcher who had destroyed Dorne and the Stormlands, a kinslayer who had aided and abetted in the deaths of half of his wife's family, a terrible father who had stripped his own children's childhood away from them and raised them for war. His marriage was strained. His goodsister wept for her husband. Much like his father before him, he had gotten his own brother killed, leaving his niece and nephews fatherless long before they should have been.

Jacaerys Velaryon had won, but winning he found, was as bitter as losing.