- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ CHAPTER FIFTY ❜┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌
THE LAKES
❛ take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die
i don't belong, and my beloved, neither do you❜

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unedited!

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To my dearest, Eudora,
Words cannot describe how intriguing yet annoyingly giggly you were at first. I hate to admit this, but how I wish I could go back and live in the past. Time has been... effortlessly cruel. I remember when I first met you, during Lady Laena's funeral. Remembering the fact that I was angered for not being able to grieve for Ser Harwin Strong makes me laugh a bit. I was a bitter child who resented my cousins for being allowed to mourn their mother, but not I with someone who raised me. You were there though, and without knowing you seemed to have taken my mind off of what was happening around me. Eudora, you spoke like an old soul. As a kid I found it odd how someone my age would speak in such a manner, but knowing a lot more now made me realize much about you.

Your cousin, Lord Cregan Stark, has been angered by your death. We bond over our grief. It's the painful look in his eyes, Eudora, that tells me how much you've meant to him and your mother. And I blame myself for letting this happen, everyone says not to but I do. If you asked me if I wished to turn back time, believe me I'd love to. Prevent you from leaving, from passing, just to keep you here with me. Your absence, my dear, has been tearing me apart. Is it too much to ask the gods to stop taking the people I love the most away from my life? I envy you, so dearly, for not having to bear this pain I'm feeling.

I'm growing tired of all this fighting with everything. You were the one who believed in me so, you were the first person I thought of as my mother named me her heir in front of everyone. It should have been you standing beside me, my wife, my best friend, my everything. No crown or title would bring me the happiness I felt when you were here with me. So help me, my love. Take me away from this place. Give me something, anything, to bring me back to you.

JACAERYS.

"What do you mean I am to be remarried?"

"Jace–"

"Mother, you're not making me remarry."

Rhaenyra's jaw tightened in anguish. It had been months since she started her rule, months have gone by since she became queen. Jacaerys was named her heir, the realm became silent for the time being. But of course, young women sought out for Jace's hand in marriage– as if he wasn't married to a woman who has been dead for some time. "Jace, you do know it's been four months since–"

"I don't care."

"Jace."

He ran his fingers through his hair, beginning to pace around the room. "No, no I refuse t–"

"You have no other choices–"

"Finding Eudora is a choice–"

The prince felt his mother's hand on his shoulder. "Jace, she's gone. We've looked everywhere, she really is gone."

"Your men aren't looking hard enough–"

"Minella Tully," Rhaenyra interrupted his words. "Oscar Tully's sister, though older, she did not inherit the birthright– he did. But it's a suitable match."

"No."

"It's something you should consider. Not only will we solidify their loyalty to us, but it would–"

"Did you not hear what I just said?"

"Jacaerys, listen to me–"

He brushed off his mother's hand, not trying to seek her comfort. Not trying to seek his mother's touch as the child he once was. "I said no. All my life I've done what was expected of me, played your coddled prince, played commander, made myself believe I'll make it through all this."

Rhaenyra only grew silent from his words, but Jace only continued. "Why is it the one thing I can have, the one person that is mine, is suddenly pulled out of my grasp— and no one seems to care! As if everyone decides whether or not I should love another!"

"I— I don't—"

"See, you don't get it!" Jace yelled, only realizing how much of his anger had consumed him. Silence fell upon them once more, Rhaenyra wanting to slowly hold onto him once more. But as soon as her hand moved, Jace was already walking out the door.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

Dragonstone was lonely.

Years ago, when he was a child, he fantasized about this castle. How he'd take Luke, and Baela, and Rhaena, flying their dragons for hours upon hours. How he'd show Eudora every corner, every hallway, every room of this massive structure— a contrast to her snow covered home. And yet now he sat by himself, The Lonely Prince of Dragonstone. Many have asked to accompany him— Baela most of all. She's seen him grieve, seen him break so fast. But Jacaerys refused, because what was the point?

Everyone he loved would end up leaving him anyways.

So there he stood, in front of the throne he no longer wanted. It was just a deadly reminder that life wouldn't be the same ever again.

His days passed slowly, blending into each other into a monotonous routine. He rarely smiled, he more so touched the wine more than his own food, trying to drown out whatever feelings that could surface once again. He slept, woke up, walked aimlessly and avoided letters from anyone. Jace had become a ghost in his own home.

It wasn't until two weeks later when the news arrived. "What?"

"Daemon Targaryen is dead," the page told him, looking at the ground to avoid the prince's eyes. "He challenged the prince Aemond Targaryen– he was swallowed by the God's Eye with his dragon."

Jace stood abruptly from the message. "And Aemond?"

"There is no trace of him and his dragon. But, Prince Jacaerys–"

He was already walking towards the doors, the need to be there for his mother stronger than the desire to listen to whatever news was next. "I have no time, I must leave–"

"There is some... there is some talk, about a woman– scarred and missing an eye."

Jace stopped in his steps.

"She was seen near the Riverlands, moving from village to village. Though– though I can't be sure if it is the girl you've been trying to find, I thought you ought to know."

Eudora.

The name was a prayer on his lips, some light in his darkness. He was right, he must be– she must've survived somehow.

Slowly, his steps carried him away from the throne room and into the dragonpit– but Vermax didn't take him to the Red Keep to see his mother. He was going to try and find her, any way he could.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

The air was thick with the scent of rain and ash as Jace landed by an old and abandoned inn near the God's Eye– the lake swirled with the red blood of Caraxes and Daemon, their remains laid deep within the waters now. Jace's footsteps echoed as he entered the crumbling structure, no man or woman in sight. His hand rested on his sword, as if there would be something or someone waiting for him in such an empty space.

He had heard of a Stark woman seeking refuge here— but what he found instead made his blood run cold.

"Aemond."

The one–eyed prince turned slowly, his face lit by the flickering of the fire he had kindled. His silver hair was damp from the rain, his sapphire eye glinting at the Velaryon. "Nephew," Aemond greeted, his voice bringing a chill down Jace's spine. "You're here. How... disappointing."

Jace drew his sword, the blade catching the firelight as he pointed it at Aemond. "Where is she?" he demanded, his voice beginning to tremble– not out of fear, but out of rage. "Where is Eudora?"

Aemond's smirk widened. "You've been chasing shadows, Jace. Eudora's dead, she's been dead. She died screaming, as all traitors should."

"Liar!" Jace yelled, his body moving before his mind could follow.

The clash of steel filled the room as their swords met, sparks flying with every strike. Aemond was older, stronger, more calculated and precise– but Jace had something that Aemond didn't.

It was the thirst for vengeance.

The fight continued, each blow from the Velaryon desperate than the last. Aemond's taunts only fueled the boy's anger. "She begged for you," Aemond sneered, his sword narrowly missing Jace's shoulder. "Aw, Eudora tried so hard to come back to her dear, darling, husband. How did that go?"

Jace lets out another yell through the inn as he forced Aemond back– his steps leading him outside in the rain, his blade slicing through the air as he continued to advance, every step closer and closer to the lake. "You don't get to say her name!"

The storm raged around them, the wind howling like a beast in the night as the rain pounded against the ruined inn. The ground beneath their feet was slick with mud, the scent of damp earth minling with the remnants of fire and blood. Jace could barely hear his own breath over the storm, but Aemond's laughter cut through the chaos like a knife.

"You're pathetic!" Aemond laughed, his sword twisting against Jace's in a deadly lock. "You swing like a boy playing soldier. Did you really think this anger makes you stronger?"

Jace gritted his teeth, shoving against the steel with all his might. With a sharp twist, he slid his blade free and struck. The tip of his sword sliced against Aemond's ribs, cutting through the wet fabric of his tunic. Aemond hissed in pain, but the injury was shallow. He barely faltered before retaliating with brutal force, his sword crashing down against Jace's guard.

The Velaryon stumbled back, the impact rattling his bones.

"You know, you should've died at the Gullet," Aemond spat, charging forward at Jace. "You should have drowned in the sea like the rest of your men. Like your precious little Luke."

That was enough to blur his vision with rage. Jace swung wildly, the edge of his blade scraping against Aemond's shoulder. The wound was deeper this time, but Aemond barely reacted, his lips curling into a sickening grin. "You fight like a man who has nothing left," Aemond continued to taunt. "Perhaps that's true. If you think about it, you lost your brother, your multiple fathers, your wife–"

Jace yelled once more and ran forward, shoving Aemond back with all his strength. Their boots slid against the rain soaked ground as they grabbed, their swords forgotten for a moment as they fought with their fists.

Aemond caught Jace by the throat, his grip tightening like iron. "You, my nephew, are nothing without her," he grinned. Jace tried to gasp for air, his hands clawing at Aemond's wrist. His vision swam, the edges darkening– but he refused to give in. With the last ounce of strength he had, the Velaryon drove his knee into Aemond's gut, forcing him to release his grip.

They both staggered back, panting, soaked to the bone.

His uncle's smirk remained, despite the blood, despite the rain. "She's dead, Jacaerys," he whispered. "And you will be too."

Jace didn't think— he acted.

He lunged forward once more, his blade striking true. Aemond twisted at the last second, but not fast enough. The sword cut deep into his side, drawing out a wet, gurgling sound from his throat.

For the first time in their fight, Aemond faltered.

Jace watched, breathless, as Aemond stumbled back– his hand pressing against the wound. Blood seeped through his fingers, staining the rainwater at his feet.

But something changed. Aemond's expression shifted– not to pain, not to anger, but to something far worse. Amusement.

"You... you think this is over?" he rasped.

Jace barely had time to react before Aemond struck back.

The world felt like it was tilting. Jace felt the searing pain in his chest before he saw the blood. Aemond's blade had found its mark, slicing across Jace's ribs with brutal precision. The force of the blow sent him stumbling backwards into the lake– causing him to fall, causing him to grasp for anything above to help him break the surface, his sword slipping from his grasp.

Jace gasped for breath, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth as the rain pelted his face, the lake water beginning to fill his body. His vision wavered, the edges dimming.

He heard Aemond chuckle, standing above him. "You're finished."

With one last breath, Jace forced his lips into a smirk, even as the pain threatened to drag him into the abyss. "You're a fool, uncle."

Aemond's brow furrowed– but before he could react, Jace's body went lip, the thrashing in the water slowly stopping, eyes fluttering shut, letting the waters swallow him whole. He stared down at the Velaryon's unmoving, floating body, his sword slick with his blood.

The boy wasn't breathing.

The realization hit like a hammer to the chest. He had won. He had slain Rhaenyra's heir, had taken another piece off the board in their endless game.

And yet, as he stood there, the triumph he had expected did not come. Aemond exhaled slowly, forcing himself to tear his gaze away. There was no time for sentiment, he sheathed his sword and turned, walking away to Vhagar without another glance. The storm would do the rest.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

Jace remained still, even as he heard Vhagar's roar fading into the distance. Even as he heard Vermax setting off to circle the skies in woe.

The moment he was sure Aemond was gone, he inhaled sharply, choking on the taste of rain, lake water, and blood. His chest burned as he brough himself against land once more, his limbs screaming in agony, the rain hitting his face as he lay in the mud, but he was alive.

He was barely alive.

It took minutes, hours even, before Jace was able to move. His body protested with every twitch of his fingers, every attempt to life himself from the cold, wet ground. But he had no choice, the Velaryon had to keep going. With a painful grunt, he crawled toward the abandoned inn, his fingers digging into the mud. He reached for his belt, fumbling with shaking hands until he found what he was looking for– a small flask of medicine, one of the few things he had taken from Dragonstone before leaving.

He downed the bitted liquid, his throat convulsing against the taste. It wasn't much, but it would keep him conscious. Pushing himself upright, Jace forced his body forward. His wounds throbbed, his breaths shallow, but he couldn't stop now.

He began to rip pieces of his cloak, leaving some around the abandoned inn, smearing as much blood as he could to make it look believable. With whatever fabric he had left, he tied it around his chest– trying to stop the wound from bleeding.

Because if the rumors were true, if there really was a woman roaming the Riverlands, he would find her.

He had to.

🫗