Serpent and Blood

Jacaerys woke to the distant sound of waves crashing against the cliffs of Dragonstone. The air was cool and briny, the distinct scent of the sea mingling with the faint smoke of the dragon pit nearby. A deep ache throbbed through his shoulder, radiating down his arm. When he tried to shift, a sharp jolt of pain stopped him cold.
“Easy,” a familiar voice called from the corner of the room. “You’ve been through enough without making it worse.”
Jace blinked, his vision adjusting to the dim light of the chamber. His father, Laenor, sat beside him, his expression caught somewhere between relief and frustration.
“Father?” Jace’s voice was hoarse, his throat dry. He winced as he tried to push himself up.
Laenor was at his side in an instant, helping him sit up against the mountain of pillows stacked at his back. “Don’t push yourself,” he said firmly. “You’re lucky to be alive.”
“What… happened?” Jace managed, his mind still foggy. Fragments of the festival came rushing back—the vibrant streets of Flea Bottom, the gleam of a blade, the blinding pain.
Laenor exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “You don’t remember?”
Jace shook his head slightly, and his brow furrowed. “Luke? Is he alright? What about the others?”
Laenor nodded reassuringly. “Luke’s fine. He did more than his share to protect Maris and Renly. They were caught in the chaos but came out with only minor scrapes and bruises.” He paused, his jaw tightening. “Daemon was nearby, dealing with some other altercation, but he came as soon as he heard. By the time he got there, it was too late to stop the fight. He and the gold cloaks handled the rest—Hightower guards loyal to Aegon weren’t shown much mercy.”
Jace closed his eyes, his heart heavy with both relief and guilt. “Aegon?”
Laenor’s expression darkened. “He ran. Or, more accurately, he was dragged away by one of his remaining guards. No doubt to lick his wounds in the Keep.” He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “You’re lucky Daemon got there when he did. The crowd was already in a frenzy. And you’re even luckier Luke knew what to do.”
Laenor sighed, “You were losing blood fast. Luke had a potion on him—one of his strange concoctions, thank the gods. It slowed the bleeding enough for us to get you out and to one of our trusted healers. Daemon… well, you know your uncle. He and the gold cloaks on duty cut through those Hightower guards like they were nothing. That potion stopped the bleeding long enough for me to get to you.”
Jace clenched his jaw, his frustration mounting, but Laenor raised a hand. “Focus on recovering first. You were half-dead when I got the message. Daemon sent word as soon as he could. I flew you here on Seasmoke myself.”
Jace tried to process it all, his mind spinning. “You… got to me?”
Laenor’s lips quirked into a faint smile. “Communication mirror, remember? Daemon sent word the moment he reached you. I didn’t hesitate. Grabbed you, mounted Seasmoke, and flew straight here to Dragonstone.”
“And the others?” Jace asked, his voice softer now, his strength waning.
“Daemon followed by ship and dragon, Caraxes keeping watch over the others as they sailed back. Luke, Maris, and Renly are all here on Dragonstone now, safe and sound. One of the healers was with them on the ship, tending to any wounds. You’ll see them soon enough.”
Jace let out a shaky breath, relief flooding his body. “I failed them,” he murmured, guilt weighing down his words. “I should have handled Aegon better. I let him get to me.”
Laenor leaned forward again, his gaze firm but kind. “You didn’t fail anyone, Jace. You stood your ground, and you protected the people you care about. That’s what matters. Aegon was drunk and looking for a fight. You were in the right, but these things… they have consequences.
Relief washed over Jace, though it was tempered by guilt. “I should’ve been stronger… smarter. I shouldn’t have let Aegon get to me.”
“You stood your ground,” Laenor said firmly, placing a hand on Jace’s uninjured shoulder. “You defended your principles and your people. That’s more than Aegon could ever do. Don’t let this shake you.”
Jace nodded slowly, though his mind still churned with doubts. He looked out the window, where the blackened sky met the sea in an endless horizon. Dragonstone was safe, for now. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that the fight with Aegon was only the beginning.
Laenor seemed to sense his thoughts. “Rest,” he said softly. “The realm won’t be won in a day. And when the time comes, you won’t face this alone.”
Jace leaned back against the pillows, exhaustion creeping in despite his best efforts to fight it. His father’s words echoed in his mind as he drifted off, the sound of the waves a steady rhythm against the walls of Dragonstone.
***************

The Red Keep’s halls felt heavier than usual, the weight of the recent chaos pressing down on its inhabitants. Alicent Hightower strode purposefully through the dim corridors, her green silk skirts swishing with each step. Her face was pale but taut with determination, her lips pressed into a thin line. The news of the festival’s violence had reached her ears quickly—too quickly for her liking. The whispers, the rumors, the accusations were already swirling like a storm gathering strength.
She found her father, in his study, hunched over a map of King’s Landing. his sharp eyes darted over the parchment as if plotting his next move.
“Father,” Alicent said sharply as she entered the room, her voice cutting through the quiet. Otto looked up, startled for a moment before his expression shifted into his usual calm façade.
“Alicent,” he greeted, gesturing for her to sit. “You look troubled.”
“I am troubled,” she snapped, refusing to take the offered seat. She remained standing, her hands clenched at her sides. “Tell me plainly, did you order the murder of Rhaenyra’s son?”
Otto raised an eyebrow, his face betraying a flicker of annoyance. “Lower your voice,” he said coolly, glancing at the door to ensure it was shut. “Such accusations could have dire consequences if overheard.”
“Then deny it,” Alicent demanded, her voice trembling with a mixture of anger and fear. “Tell me you had no part in what happened at the festival.”
Otto leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled as he studied her. “I gave my men instructions,” he admitted, his tone matter-of-fact. “If an opportunity arose to remove the boy from play, they were to take it.”
Alicent recoiled as if struck. “You mean kill him.”
“He’s a bastard, Alicent,” Otto said, his voice tinged with exasperation. “A stain on Rhaenyra’s claim and a weak link in her faction. His death would weaken her, perhaps even drive a wedge between her and Daemon. If the gold cloaks were implicated, all the better. Chaos is a weapon, my daughter, one we must wield wisely.”
Alicent’s hands trembled as she pressed them to the edge of his desk. “He’s a child, Father. A young boy who could have died because of your schemes.”
Otto’s gaze hardened. “Do not be naïve, Alicent. This is the game we play. Every move, every sacrifice, is for the survival of our house. You knew this the moment you put on that gown of green and declared war in all but name.”
Alicent shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “I did not declare war on children.”
“You declared war on Rhaenyra,” Otto countered, his tone cold and unyielding. “And her children are her strength. Remove them, and she falters. You cannot protect your own brood without understanding that harsh truth.”
For a moment, Alicent felt as though the ground beneath her feet was shifting. She had known her father to be ruthless, calculating, but this… this felt like a line crossed. “What if Daemon retaliates? What if this only strengthens Rhaenyra’s resolve?”
Otto’s lips curved into a thin smile. “Daemon is a wild card. His reputation precedes him, and any act of violence from his side will only serve to paint him as the monster we claim he is. It is a risk, yes, but one worth taking.”
Alicent turned away, her mind racing. She had always trusted her father’s counsel, relied on his guidance, but now she felt a sickening unease twisting in her stomach. “You play a dangerous game, Father,” she said softly. “One that may cost us more than we can afford.”
Otto stood, moving to her side. He placed a hand on her shoulder, his grip firm. “You must trust me, Alicent. Everything I do, I do for our family, for your children. Do not let sentiment cloud your judgment.”
Alicent shrugged off his hand, stepping toward the door. “Sentiment is all that separates us from being monsters,” she said, her voice sharp with an edge of despair. Without another word, she left the room, the echo of her footsteps fading into the silence.
Otto watched her go, his expression unreadable. When the door closed behind her, he turned back to his map, his fingers tracing the lines of the city as if plotting his next move. In his mind, the pieces were already falling into place, the sacrifices made, the board set for the next move in the game of thrones.

***********************************

The chamber was stiflingly quiet save for the sound of King Viserys’s labored breathing. Seated at the table in his solar, his face was a storm of fury and disbelief. The messenger’s words still hung in the air, as heavy as the scent of the incense burning nearby.
Jacaerys had been stabbed—his grandson, the heir to the heir to the Iron Throne, nearly killed in a drunken brawl incited by his own son. His hand gripped the armrest of his chair tightly, knuckles pale against the polished wood.
Before him stood Alicent, pale and silent, her hands clasped in front of her, “Do you know why I summoned you?” Viserys’s voice was cold and steady, but there was a dangerous undercurrent that sent a shiver down her spine.
“I have heard… rumors,” Alicent began hesitantly. “About the festival and the… altercation. But I have yet to hear the full truth.”
“The full truth?” Viserys’s laugh was bitter. He leaned forward, gripping the armrests of the chair with trembling hands. “The full truth is that our son, Aegon, insulted the people of King’s Landing, incited a fight with my grandson, and brought dishonor to this family in the streets of the city I swore to protect.”
Viserys’s voice was sharp and cracking like thunder. “My grandson, son of the Princess of Dragonstone, lies in his bed recovering from a wound that could have killed him. And for what? Because Aegon thought it wise to get himself drunk and insult the very people he should be helping to lead?” He slammed his fist on the table, the sound echoing through the hall. “This is an outrage!”
“Your Grace,” Alicent began cautiously, her voice trembling, “I was not aware—”
“You were not aware?” Viserys snapped, cutting her off. “He is your son, Alicent. How could you not know? His behavior was bad enough when I was well enough to take notice, but this? To start a fight in the streets, to disgrace himself and his station? And with Hightower guards at his side no less. Explain this to me, Alicent. How did it come to this?”
Alicent’s lips parted, but no words came out.
“Perhaps the blame lies not only with Aegon,” Viserys continued, his gaze shifting to her dress, piercing and cold. “Perhaps this is the influence of those who surround him.”
“Viserys,” Alicent said, his voice measured, “it is the recklessness of youth. Aegon is—”
“Enough,” Viserys barked, cutting Alicent off mid-sentence. He leaned forward, his breathing heavy, his crown tilting slightly on his brow. “Do not defend him to me, Alicent. You claim to guide my son, and yet here we are. A drunken boy who nearly cost me my grandson. Do you call this guidance?”
“I have been too lenient,” he said, shaking his head. “Too blind to his faults. But this ends now. Aegon is barred from leaving the Red Keep. He will not step one foot outside these walls until I say otherwise.”
Alicent’s lips parted in shock. “Viserys, surely that is too harsh—”
“Too harsh?” Viserys roared, his voice echoing off the stone walls. “Would you call it harsh if Jacaerys had died? If your son’s drunkenness led to the death of his nephew? If the streets of King’s Landing erupted in rebellion because of his actions?”
Alicent faltered, her composure slipping. “He is young, impulsive—”
“And whose fault is that?” Viserys snapped, his words cutting like a blade. “You coddle him, Alicent. You and your father both. You allow him to think he is above consequence, above the law, and now we see the result of that indulgence.”
The mention of her father made Alicent stiffen. “Do not bring my father into this.”
“Oh, but I must,” Viserys said, his voice dripping with venom. “Because it was his guards, his Hightower guards, who stood by and allowed this disgrace to unfold. What role did Otto play in this? Did he encourage Aegon’s behavior? Did he give orders to harm Jacaerys if the opportunity arose?”
Alicent’s eyes widened. “You cannot believe that my father—”
“I do not know what to believe anymore,” Viserys said, his voice dropping to a weary whisper. “But I will not stand by and watch this family tear itself apart. If Aegon’s behavior continues, I will send him away. Far away. Perhaps studying as a maester in Oldtown would suit him, or some quiet castle where he can drink himself into oblivion without dragging this family’s name through the mud.”
Alicent’s breath hitched. “You would exile your own son?”
“If it protects the realm, yes,” Viserys said firmly. He fixed her with a penetrating stare. “And if I find that Otto has been complicit in this—if his influence has led to this disgrace—then I will send him away as well. Do not test me, Alicent. I will not be manipulated, not by you, not by him.”
A heavy silence fell between them. Alicent lowered her gaze, her hands trembling as she clenched them into fists. “I will speak to Aegon,” she said quietly. “I will make him understand.”
“You had better,” Viserys said, leaning back into his chair with a sigh. “For all our sakes.”
As Alicent turned to leave, she felt the sharp sting of humiliation and fear. She had always trusted her father’s guidance, but now that trust felt fragile, as if it could shatter at any moment. And the thought of Aegon being sent away… it was unthinkable. Yet the king’s resolve was clear, and she knew he would not waver.

*****************************************

The soft flicker of candlelight cast shadows along the stone walls of Jace’s chamber, its warmth contrasting with the stormy expression on Rhaenyra’s face. She stood at her eldest son’s bedside, brushing a stray curl from his forehead as he slept. His chest rose and fell with a steady rhythm, but the pallor of his skin and the bandages beneath his tunic were constant reminders of how close she had come to losing him.
Her voice was barely a whisper. “You’re strong, my boy. Stronger than they could ever imagine.”
Jace stirred slightly but did not wake. Satisfied he was resting, Rhaenyra smoothed her skirts and turned toward the door, her face hardening with resolve. She exited quietly, her footsteps echoing in the corridor until she reached the council room where Laenor, Laena, Daemon, and Lucerys were waiting.
The moment she entered, the tension in the room thickened. Laenor was seated with his hands clasped tightly together, his face a mixture of concern and anger. Laena leaned against the table, her expression unreadable, though her sharp eyes tracked every movement. Daemon stood by the window, his arms crossed and his jaw set, radiating barely contained fury. Lucerys, seated near the hearth, looked hesitant, as though he were caught between a child’s fear and a man’s duty.
Rhaenyra’s voice broke the silence. “Hightower guards,” she began, her tone icy, “almost killed my son.”
Daemon turned from the window, his expression darkening further. “And Aegon was the cause. He brought those dogs with him, thinking he could do as he pleased..”
Laenor slammed his fist on the table, startling Lucerys. “This cannot stand. They’ve made it clear—our blood is nothing to them. They’ll spill it freely if it suits their schemes.”
Laena’s voice was calm but firm, cutting through the anger like a blade. “They aimed to provoke us, to weaken us. But we cannot let them see us falter.”
Rhaenyra raised a hand, silencing the room. Her voice, though quiet, carried the weight of her authority. “Enough. I have heard your rage, and I share it. But anger alone will not serve us.”
She turned her gaze to Lucerys, who shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny. “Luke.”
“Yes, Mother?” he asked, his voice small but steady.
“For too long, I have been cautious,” Rhaenyra said, her eyes never leaving his. “I have held back, thinking it would preserve the fragile peace that remains. But the Greens have shown their hand. They care nothing for peace.”
Lucerys straightened in his chair, sensing the shift in her tone.
“You spoke to me of a plan,” she continued. “One that involves Helaena.”
Lucerys nodded, his expression sharpening with resolve. “Yes. It’s subtle, but it could sow distrust among their ranks—divide them from within.”
Rhaenyra’s lips curled into a faint, approving smile. “Then do it. Move forward with your plan.”
Lucerys blinked, caught off guard by her swift approval. “You’re certain?”
“I am.” Her voice was ironclad. “They almost took your brother from us, Luke. They will not hesitate to do the same to you or anyone else we hold dear. If we do not strike back, they will see it as weakness.”
Laenor nodded, his expression grim but determined. “What’s the next step, then?”
Rhaenyra turned to Lucerys, her gaze steady. “You have your orders. Ensure it’s done quietly. And make no mistakes.”
Lucerys swallowed hard but nodded. “Yes, Mother. I won’t fail.”
As the meeting continued, the mood in the room shifted. The fury that had dominated the space was now tempered by a shared resolve. Rhaenyra stood tall, her presence commanding, her anger on behalf of Jace transformed into a sharp-edged determination. They were no longer simply reacting to the Greens’ provocations; they were taking the offensive.
When the meeting adjourned, Rhaenyra lingered by the door, watching as her family left one by one. Daemon paused beside her, his hand brushing her arm.
“You’ve made the right choice,” he murmured.
Rhaenyra met his gaze, her voice low but fierce. “I will not lose a child, Daemon. Not to them. Not to anyone.”
Daemon nodded, a glint of pride in his eyes. Together, they turned back to the shadows of Dragonstone, their shared purpose as unyielding as the castle’s ancient walls.