The flight from Dragonstone to the mainland was a journey between worlds. Riding Vormax was unlike riding any other dragon; the beast did not merely fly, it tore through the sky, its supernatural recovery allowing it to beat its wings with a tireless, rhythmic violence. Below them, the Narrow Sea was a sheet of hammered silver. Jacaerys felt the Divine Blood in his veins singing in harmony with the dragon's roar.
Through his Supernatural Senses, Jace could feel the heat signatures of life miles away. He didn't head for the Gullet as he had told the council. He steered the obsidian-gold titan toward the Crownlands, toward the small, strategic seat of Rook's Rest.
He knew the history. In the original timeline, this was where Rhaenys, the Queen Who Never Was, would fall against the combined might of Aegon and Aemond. It was a trap laid by Criston Cole.
*I am the one who sets the traps now,* Jace thought, his eyes glowing a deep, predatory violet.
He reached the vicinity of Rook's Rest before midday. Using his Dragon Mastery, he commanded Vormax to stay high above the clouds, hidden by the grey mist of the upper atmosphere. From this height, the army of Ser Criston Cole looked like a line of iron ants marching toward the castle gates. Jace watched as the Greens' trap began to spring. Lord Staunton had closed his gates, and the siege was beginning.
But Jace wasn't watching the ground. His senses were locked on the horizon. Soon, a flash of gold and a shadow of blue appeared. Sunfyre and Vhagar. Aegon and Aemond.
Jace didn't move. He waited. He watched as the two brothers descended like gods of old to burn the Staunton lands. He saw the fire, heard the distant screams. But he also felt the arrogance radiating from them—the belief that they were the apex predators of the sky.
He dived.
Vormax fell like a black comet. The drag was immense, but Jace's Skill Mastery and Divine Blood kept him locked into the saddle, his body absorbing the G-forces that would have crushed a mortal man. They broke through the cloud layer directly above the unsuspecting Sunfyre.
Aegon didn't even have time to scream. Vormax slammed into the golden dragon with the force of a falling mountain. Jace didn't use a dragon whip; he used his mind. Vormax's white-hot blue fire erupted, a pillar of divine heat that scorched Sunfyre's wing to ash in a single breath.
The golden dragon spiraled toward the earth, a screaming ball of fire. Far to the left, Aemond on Vhagar roared in fury, turning the ancient hoary bitch toward the new intruder.
Jace pulled Vormax into a sharp, supernatural climb. He looked down at Aemond. Through his enhanced sight, he could see his uncle's one good eye go wide with terror. Aemond had spent his life believing Vhagar was the largest, the strongest. Now, he looked up at a shadow that eclipsed the sun, a dragon whose scales hummed with a power Vhagar could never touch.
*Not today, Uncle,* Jace thought. He wasn't here to kill them all yet. He was here to break their spirit.
He commanded Vormax to let out a roar that shattered the glass in the towers of Rook's Rest below. It was a sound of pure, divine authority. Then, with a speed that made Vhagar look like a sluggish turtle, Jace and Vormax vanished back into the clouds, heading North before the Greens could even recover their senses.
By the time Jace returned to Dragonstone and slipped back into the castle, the first ravens were arriving. The news was incoherent—tales of a black shadow, a blue fire, and the King's dragon falling from the sky.
Jace made his way to Rhaenyra's solar. She was pale, her hands shaking as she held a scroll. "Jace... something happened at Rook's Rest. Aegon is wounded. Sunfyre is broken. But the scouts say it wasn't a Black dragon that did it. They say it was a demon of gold and black."
Jace walked to her, his presence calm and cooling. He took the scroll from her hand and tossed it into the hearth. "It was the justice of the True King, Mother."
He pulled her into his arms, his touch firm and grounding. The thrill of the hunt was still in his blood, making his skin feel electrified. Rhaenyra looked up at him, realizing in that moment that her son had done the impossible. He had struck the King in the heart of his power and returned without a scratch.
The intimacy that followed was fueled by the adrenaline of victory. Jace didn't speak; he acted. He stripped her with a fierce, possessive hunger, his hands tracing the lines of her body as if he were memorizing a conquered territory. He took her on the stone floor of the solar, the heat from the hearth reflecting the fire in their veins.
The smut was intense and raw, a celebration of survival and power. Jace used his supernatural stamina to drive Rhaenyra into a state of blissful delirium, his thrusts deep and rhythmic, echoing the heartbeat of the dragon he had just ridden into battle. Every gasp she let out was a tribute to his strength. He marked her shoulder with his teeth, a physical brand of his ownership, his Divine Blood humming in the silence of the room.
"You are the only power in this world," Rhaenyra whispered as they lay exhausted in the firelight.
"And you are the only one I allow to share it," Jace replied, his eyes dark and satisfied.
The Greens were in chaos. Aegon was incapacitated, and Aemond was haunted by a shadow he couldn't name. The board had been shattered, and Jace was the one holding the pieces.