The Dance of the Dragons captured the imaginations of a generation of smallfolk. A war unlike any seen before or since in Westeros, devastation on a scale hearkening back to the days of the Valyrian Freehold of old. Fought on the land in muddy fields and sieges, at sea in the open oceans and contested landings upon beaches. And yes, in the skies battles betwixt dragonriders alike the clashing of titans shaped the course of the war. And despite the obvious fields of battle it was also fought with whispers and ravens, poison, and daggers in the night. Fought in lordly halls, in bed chambers, in the brothels and wine sinks of Kingslanding and the darkest alleys of fleabottom. Worst of all, it was a war fought between family. - Chronicle of ArchMaester Vaegon the Dragonless
There has been much and more written of the dance. The histories pieced together by the records of maesters, confessions of the guilty, eyewitness accounts, journals and diaries, not to mention rumour, scandal and gossip. The war blazed into being though the seeds were sown long ago. History and tall tales blending together in the telling.
From men at arms who slew dragons. To knights who claim the same kills to lords who won battles and performed mighty deeds. Septons and Maesters and even A fool who claims to have fucked a queen and ridden a dragon leave their own accounts, the latter with the aid of a scribe for though our dear friend Mushroom is a wit and delight he claims to be able to neither read nor write.
This however is my personal account. And though I have been known by other names upon the day I awoke to be Summoned by mine Grandsire King Viserys he called for me with the name Prince Jacaerys Targaryen. A name I bear with pride.
I awoke with a heavy weight upon my chest. This would soon prove to be prophetic though I knew not at the time. I would in time, have a great many burdens to bear. The first however, was lighter than most. A heavy Satin blanket of cotton and samite and silver thread chased with emblems. I blinked in shock for I did not recognize the bedroom and was dazed and confused. Surrounded by comfort and luxury I thought it first a dream, would that it were mine life would have been much different.
With the warmth of the bed, the softness of the sheet and the distant cry of the gulls outside my window panes of clear glass I wished to go back to sleep. Some have said they wish I had, or that I'd never woken. And yet I was a prince of the realm and more was demanded of me.
A serving girl entered the room to change the bloodied bandages about my head and squealed at seeing me awake. She said something in a tongue I could not understand at the time. High Valyrian, that of my Ancestors, and the language spoken at the Kings Court and many High Houses and of course, a little among the smallfolk of Driftmark, Dragonstone, and Claw Isle and others whom claim Valyrian descent besides, though in truth with linguistic drift many speak a bastardized version of the commons or an essosi dialect with its own quirks.
As a child of six summers however I had grown up speaking the language of much of the realms lords and smallfolk. Simple Common and to the serving girl my confusion was plain. "Good morning my prince." She greeted me with a curtsy and a smile. She hid a laugh at my next words with good grace and no small amount of sympathy.
"Prince?" I asked, foolishly and perhaps still groggy from sleep as she unwound the bandage around my head.
"Perhaps not for much longer Jace!" She teased patting my short brown locks of hair, they in sharp contrast to her own light blonde silvery mane. Wiping away dried blood with a damp cloth and replacing the fabric. "His Majesty King Viserys is quite incensed at your misadventures." She scolded me lightly, though in her voice was an edge of worry. Her tone brought a frown to mine own face as I began to worry in turn. "Don't worry overmuch young prince. I am sure our good king will just be relieved you're finally awake. Three days of sleep lazybones. I mean really?" She asked poking me in the belly accusingly before lifting my shirt over my head and helping me get dressed.
"Thank you." I murmured at some point shyly, and that caught her attention and her worry as she touched my shoulder gently to look me in the face and I turned my gaze to the floor nervous and uncomfortable.
"You don't remember my name do you?" She asked shaking her head and her long blonde hair. "Maester Bendamure warned this might happen, though he also warned you might never wake so we're doing well all things considered." She sighed heavily. "Speaking of which. I'm under orders to bring him to you to check on your health once you've awoken and then you are to immediately attend to The King. You are to stay right here in bed until we return as we don't want you getting dizzy and falling my young princeling." So saying she pointed a finger at me imperiously and I lay back in bed at her command as she stood, towering over my small frame lay in bed.
"What is your name?" I asked with a mumble in an effort to be polite.
"Only your personal servant my prince, who's slaved away keeping you fed and clean these last few days. As for my name, well, try to remember but don't worry your head too much." She said with a laugh and a tweak of my nose before skipping from the room in search of the Maester.
I did a lot of thinking in those minutes of solitude and reaching for a looking glass upon the bedside table examined myself as I sought to remember. The face that looked back at me was vaguely familiar, a boy child, brown of hair and perhaps between five or eight at most. (Six winters in truth as I would later discover.) Many of my memories were strange or nonsensical, mayhaps scrambled by time and a blow to the head. Others were somewhat clearer. Most clear and most pressing. I was a prince of the realm and I resolved to act like it and do my duty.
Maester Bendamure soon arrived with the returning serving girl whose name still eluded me though I'd drawn together other thoughts and memories. He examined the wound carefully with gentle fingertips and looking into my eyes with small lantern and questioning me. "I am Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, heir to Dragonstone Son of Crown Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, she who is named First in line to the Iron Throne, Sat by my Grandsire King Viserys Targaryen long may he reign." I announced as confidently as I knew how.
"Well. He remembers the important things clearly Viserra." Maester Bendamure said wryly to the silvery blonde young serving woman.
"Indeed!" She scoffed sarcastically. "I've only cared for him since he and Daeron came off the tit." She teased with a roll of her eyes. I blushed under her gaze, ashamed at not remembering her name and wracking my mind for any memories of her and finding only blankness. "No matter." She said sadly rubbing my shoulder comfortingly. "With time he might remember you said?"
"Or he might never." The Maester cautioned seriously. "Wiggle your toes for me?" He asked. I did so. I pulled faces, I pushed his hands back hard as I could. I answered some simple maths questions. I could not however read a word upon his scrolls, nor scarce remember a single word of high Valyrian. "Dohaera Viserra." I managed clumsily, my pronunciation terrible. "Valar Morghulis." The only phrase I could say with any certainty.
"But not today." Maester Bendamure murmured. Most importantly, I was able to walk, thank the gods. "Do you remember the incident?" He asked seriously peering into my eyes.
"A little." I answered truthfully as I could. "Some of the details are fuzzy and unclear but I-" The maester halted me as I began an explanation to recount what I recalled.
"Save it for the kings own ears." He ordered me crisply.
Viserra was sent into the corridor to fetch a passing servant and send word ahead of us. A guardsman in the colours and livery of House Velaryon soon arrived and swift on his heels my lord father, Ser Laenor Velaryon full of concern, relief and love. He at least I recognised on sight. Tongues have wagged of him and will doubtless continue to wag for centuries more along with spiteful quills. Yet I say it here now for all to know. I loved the man and he loved me as his son though the pair of us look nothing alike. I never saw him strike my mother, say a cruel word to a child nor flee from a battle. He was a brave and valiant knight. A skilled dragonrider and warrior. A shrewd and cunning lord. A wise man. A supportive husband. And to myself and my brothers a loving father always. Most of all, he was a good man, gentle and kind.
Some also have speculated on the nature of my relationship with my mother. Likewise I shall permit no slander of her. As was expected of a lady of her station much less the crown princess she had a great many duties to attend to. She bore children in her belly for nine months to serve the realm doing her duty, and I and many of my brothers were given to wetnurses to feed and servants to raise while she attended to the duties assigned to her. Especially in our younger years. As I grew older and the risk of cot-death faded she came to know and love me better aiding my lessons in high Valyrian and dragonlore and instructing me on the Great Houses of Westeros.
That all comes later however. Upon that day I was still a summer child six years of age. And the king was expecting me.
I may have forgotten many things prior to that day. But my first ever meeting with my grandsire is one I shall never forget, burned into my mind with Fire and Blood. Some would call him a weak king who led the realm to ruin. But in him was the blood of the Dragonlords of Old. None would accuse him of being half so fierce with a blade as his brother Daemon but King Viserys was fierce of wit, wise and with a cutting tongue and keen eye. Remember this now and forever. He inherited a stable realm from The Old King and it was only after his death that the realm tore itself apart. Mine Grandsire Viserys oversaw a time of plenty and though some would snicker he was soft when it came to matters of family and rue that his weakness would one day lead to war on that day he was wroth and I saw him with steel in his spine. Strong and proud, certain and decisive.
I had been escorted to him, unsure what to expect. One hand holding my fathers. The other holding Viserra's, in between the two. The guardsman of House Velaryon ahead of us clearing the way. Fearful whispers followed us. And led from the castle of High Tide I stumbled at the sight before me in sheer terror.
King Viserys was holding court upon the beach. A silver circlet upon his brow he wore a fine black doublet, leather pants and supple leather boots, well worn in from hunting and hard use. He bore his favoured Valyrian steel dagger upon his waist and held in his hands was the naked steel of the conquerors blade BlackFyre a sword of rippling smoky substance indicative of Valyrian Steel. A storied blade set against a storied foe as the King performed his morning exercises sparring with a Kingsguard. He'd put on fat since assuming the throne it was true, but he was strong limbed, muscular, and the recipient of tutelage and instruction from some of the finest swords in the land and that day alike so many others he was sparring with his kingsguard whilst he broke his fast in view of the lords and ladies of the court.
Many of the nobility of the crownlands and a fair few nobles besides had journeyed to driftmark to pay their respects to my father sister Laena. Where goes the king, so goes the realm I believe the saying is? Well, equally true is that where goes the Royal family goes their dragons. They lounged upon the beach or flew in the skies overhead. The lonely Lady Vhagar, subject of this great quarrel lay alike a doting grandmother, watching her younger kin play and snap at one another or wheel through the skies with an air of contentment, one eye lazily closed as she dozed.
Unmistakeable also was Caraxes the blood worm. Seeming agitated and hissing, yet with a mischevious bent as he snapped and hissed at the younger dragons around him before being 'slain' by a beautiful blue hatchling Tessarion who leapt atop the wyrms back and nipped at caraxes wiry scaled neck the large red monster flailing on the beath in its death throes kicking up sand as Prince Daeron watched and cheered, Prince Daemon watching and holding him well away from the fight with a hand on his shoulder smirking.
Prince Aegons Dragon Sunfyre the golden sparkled in the sunlight sprawled out on the beach, his own rider lazy lay on the beasts warm belly gorged with goats and fish.
Larger than he the she-dragon Dreamfyre wheeled above with a flock of hatchlings in formation Arrax and Vermax, the latter dragons of myself and my brother Lucerys while Dreamfire bonded to our Aunt Helaena. The third young dragon joining them was Baela's own, the dragon moondancer mine cousins bonded companion. To either side flanking them were the she dragons Meleys and Syrax. One the dragon of the Queen who never was. The other the dragon of my mother the queen to be.
Smallest of the dragons present was little Tyraxes, the little dragon for my little brother, the size of a common hound and playful like a cat, stealing steaming fish from a pile of cooked meat at the Grey-scaled Dragon of my father Seasmoke watched on carefully.
Greatest of them all however, overshadowing the whole proceedings was Balerion The Black Dread. Ancient, powerful and terrifying. If Vhagar was a doting grandmother Balerion was a knight armed and armoured for battle with pitch black armoured scales, sword like claws and a powerful lashing tail sweeping chasms in the sand.
Were not my father and my servant holding my hands I might have collapsed in fear. They held me up and marched me onwards and I remember quite clearly that as we approached the king his back was to us as he sparred with his kingsguard, both men breathing lightly with exertion. But with Balerions eyes upon us the kings practice ended with timing too precise to be coincidence. He called the bout to a halt and turned around to regard me with his deep purple eyes, sharp and intelligent and filled with a quiet carefully controlled fury I was struck with the uncomfortable feeling that he saw and knew more than I might like.
