Chapter 125: The Funeral of a True Dragon
The Dragon departed.
After Prince Draezell flew into the sky carrying Jacaerys's ashes, Vermax no longer remained in place. The young dragon did not return to its birthplace, but instead flew south, toward the place where its own Dragonpit stood. Perhaps in Vermax's eyes, the Dragonpit of Dragonmont City was its true home.
The septon watched the departing dragon and suddenly stood up. "Brothers and sisters, our King answered the Stranger's call for our sake. We must see His Grace off on his final journey!" Raising his prayer beads, the septon shouted loudly to the people gathered around him. "Let us follow the Prince's dragon!"
"Brother, do you intend to disappoint His Grace?" An obviously older septon stood up with the support of several young men. "His Grace chose to be cremated here, without waiting for the Silent Sisters, precisely so you would not need to escort a coffin all the way to King's Landing. Has His Grace only just departed, and already you wish to make his final efforts meaningless?"
The gathered people quickly understood the elder septon's meaning and immediately began speaking up in support of him. The younger septon also quickly realized his mistake. Yes, the plague in King's Landing had only just subsided, and nobody could guarantee that a flood of people gathering there would not reignite the outbreak. Nor could anyone guarantee there were no lingering carriers in the city. If another disaster occurred, all of Jacaerys's efforts would become meaningless.
"I understand, brother. I was wrong." The septon sincerely knelt before the elder and confessed. "May the Crone forgive my folly, and may her lantern guide His Grace safely into the Father's halls."
Under the guidance of the septons, the people gradually dispersed. What they wished for most now was to return home quickly, pray for their dead King, and pray that the next ruler would also be a wise King like Jacaerys.
Lord Rosby released ravens throughout the realm, announcing that merely two months after the war ended, another King had been lost.
Because of this, when Grand Maester Munkun later compiled The True History, he hesitated greatly over whether to call 129 AC the Year of Two Kings, the Year of Three Kings, Four Kings, or perhaps even Five Kings. Strictly speaking, four monarchs had sat upon the Iron Throne that year, while five different rulers had worn crowns.
Ultimately, Grand Maester Munkun excluded the later-crowned Aegon and the deceased Viserys. Considering the people's affection for Jacaerys, as well as the gradual deification of Jacaerys by singers, smallfolk, and septons during Aegon's reign, Munkun eventually chose to dedicate an independent chapter to Jacaerys rather than listing him alongside his mother and uncle.
Of course, later maesters debated this endlessly. In their eyes, the "Year of Two Kings" recorded by Munkun could refer equally to Queen Rhaenyra and the Usurper Aegon fighting over the Iron Throne—or to Queen Rhaenyra and Jacaerys I himself.
It all depended on where one stood.
King's Landing, the Red Keep.
This time, the raven arrived much faster than any dragon.
Grand Maester Orwyle, recently released from the black cells by Prince Daemon, trembled as he looked toward his assistant carrying a letter.
The black cells had severely damaged the Grand Maester's body. His legs barely functioned anymore, and his eyesight had nearly failed, though his skill and knowledge remained intact. Thus, during this period, he had still been overseeing plague prevention efforts throughout the city.
Yet those efforts had also weakened him greatly.
"Grand Maester..." The assistant unfolded the letter, but after only a glance, his voice trembled.
"What is it?" Orwyle immediately caught the grief and disbelief in the young man's voice. "Do not panic. Speak slowly."
The assistant fought back tears.
His home was in the Riverlands. Jacaerys had once passed through his village while riding his dragon to dispense justice. Though he had studied at the Citadel, he had never completed his chains, so ties to his family remained.
He had recently received a letter from home and learned how the King had personally resolved problems there and arranged relief.
The assistant deeply admired the young King. He had even slapped himself repeatedly in the dead of night after remembering how he once insulted Jacaerys during Aegon II's reign.
"His Grace... His Grace answered the Stranger's call after contracting dragonpox while inspecting the Crownlands..." the assistant finally sobbed.
Grand Maester Orwyle froze.
For a long while, he remained rigid before finally recovering.
"The Targaryens... have lost another wise King."
The old man sighed.
With the assistant supporting him, he slowly made his way toward the council chamber, where Prince Daemon was presiding.
"Impossible! You're lying!"
Joffrey rushed toward the Grand Maester like a madman and seized his maester's chain. Unfortunately, the boy was still too small to lift him.
"You're lying to me, aren't you, Orwyle? You bastard! My brother released you, restored your office, and this is how you repay him? By cursing him? I—I—I…"
Joffrey shouted incoherently.
Moments earlier he had still been enthusiastically discussing plans for developing Driftmark with Corlys. Before he could finish, Orwyle had delivered this devastating news.
The boy simply refused to believe it.
"Joffrey, calm yourself."
Daemon recovered first.
The old prince pulled the eleven-year-old away and spoke gravely.
"Grand Maester, can you confirm this news? Joffrey, be still and let him speak."
Nearby, Lord Corlys held Baela tightly.
The girl stared at Orwyle with disbelief, desperately hoping he would deny it.
But her hopes shattered.
"It is true, Your Highness."
Even Orwyle's own voice carried grief.
Among the rulers of House Targaryen, only Jacaerys, through his own efforts, had come closest to resembling the universally beloved King Jaehaerys.
Yet the Seven had granted him no time.
Even Orwyle had found himself cursing the gods on his journey here.
"Lord Rosby's letter says Prince Draezell should soon arrive in King's Landing," Orwyle sighed. "His Grace reaffirmed Prince Joffrey's rights to Driftmark and named Prince Aegon as heir. Prince Daemon shall continue serving as Regent while Prince Draezell will raise Prince Aegon in Dragonmont City until his fourteenth nameday."
Corlys's expression shifted.
He wanted to speak.
But the children reacted more violently.
Joffrey collapsed into tears.
Baela attempted to stand but immediately fainted into Corlys's arms.
Hearing the commotion, Orwyle immediately sent his assistant to help.
Daemon himself also stood frozen.
Something felt lodged in his chest, making breathing difficult.
The old prince quickly grabbed a chair and sat.
Memories flooded through him.
Shy little Jace carrying his younger brothers while calling him father.
Jacaerys stubbornly insisting on becoming Draezell's squire.
Teaching Jace swordsmanship and dragonriding.
Letters sent after Jacaerys became King.
In Jacaerys he had seen reflections of his grandfather, his great-uncle, and his brother.
For a moment he had truly believed another wise ruler was about to rise.
Only Joffrey's sobs and curses remained in his ears.
Then everything turned into ringing silence.
Prince Daemon fainted.
Fortunately Grand Maester Orwyle remained nearby treating Baela.
The poor old man dragged his crippled legs back and forth before finally reviving both father and daughter.
At that moment, a dragon's roar echoed over King's Landing.
Vermithor had returned.
The bronze dragon swept over the city and landed steadily within the Red Keep's great courtyard.
The remaining Kingsguard, Ser Steffon Darklyn and Ser Arryk Cargyll, stepped forward.
Both men now looked aged beyond their years.
In merely four months, too much had happened.
Their sworn brothers had died or vanished.
Only two scarred White Swords remained.
"I brought Jace home."
Prince Draezell climbed down from Vermithor looking utterly exhausted.
To save his rider strength, Vermithor lowered himself as far as possible.
Around Draezell's neck hung Jacaerys's urn.
The box had been hastily crafted by a carpenter from planks split from a nobleman's coffin.
Corlys Velaryon already waited outside.
The old Sea Snake gazed sorrowfully at the box in Draezell's arms.
Yet Draezell still noticed a flicker of wariness in his eyes.
He silently admired the old man's instincts.
So he finally realizes my power has grown too great?
Perhaps Daemon had also noticed.
Though at this moment, Daemon likely had no thoughts to spare.
But Sea Snake... House Velaryon and House Targaryen now have little left besides what Jace left behind.
Draezell nodded sadly before entering the Red Keep.
Led by servants and red-eyed septons, he entered the royal sept.
This served as the resting place for royal ashes before burial.
Viserys.
Rhaenyra.
Princess Rhaenys.
All remained here.
Yes—even Viserys.
The Greens had cremated him but never buried him before abandoning King's Landing.
And Rhaenyra, consumed by her own priorities, had seemingly forgotten her father entirely.
Perhaps she simply assumed Aegon II had already done so.
Daemon stood silently holding Joffrey while Baela wept beside him.
Three urns already rested upon the altar.
Draezell slowly placed Jacaerys beside his mother.
The Silent Sisters and septons approached.
The funeral rite required a close family member to deliver a final eulogy.
Daemon glanced toward Draezell.
The old prince sighed and nodded.
Draezell stepped forward.
"King Viserys I Targaryen."
He looked toward the first urn.
"During his reign the realm continued the peace established by King Jaehaerys and successfully reclaimed Dorne. People remember peace beneath his rule. Yet he also bears responsibility for the chaos that followed."
Daemon slowly nodded.
His brother had given peace to a generation.
And war to his family.
"Princess Rhaenys Targaryen. Born of fire and blood, she died amidst fire and blood. She was a true dragonrider, a true warrior, an uncrowned queen, and laid the foundation for our victory."
Corlys silently listened.
"Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen the First. Light of the Realm—and bane of the Realm. You won victory, yet nearly destroyed all we fought for. You should thank your children. They restored the crown's honor for you. History will remember Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen I. Your brother shall forever remain the Usurper."
Even Daemon smiled faintly.
Because every word was true.
Even Joffrey could not object.
He too had cursed his mother countless times.
Finally Draezell faced the last urn.
"My Jace. My squire. My student."
He never said brother.
Though they had always treated each other as family.
"King Jacaerys Targaryen the First. You proved through your actions that you deserved every crown ever forged. You were a true Targaryen. A true King."
Draezell stood there for a very long time.
Unmoving.
Then the bells rang throughout King's Landing once more.
This time, the city answered with prayers and sobs for the King who had cared for them.
After the Silent Sisters removed the urns, Draezell turned toward everyone present.
"Next," he said quietly, "we speak of Aegon."
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