Blood Upon The Snow ||| Cregan Stark

thirty-six

Jacaera was angry. That Daemon was insisting on killing himself, that Jacaera had to leave the city to try and save him if he was still alive. Or kill Aemond.

She'd left almost in tears. Her brothers begged her not to go, to stay with them. But as heir, it was her duty to collect her mother's consort. Jace would have done the same thing. She was doing it for him, for her mother.

The girl promised herself she would return to the city. She would go back victorious and help finish the war.

There were whispers. No one would outright tell the Queen. But there had been whispers that Daemon was killed by surprise. That Aemond had used his dragon without giving Daemon a chance to fight him fairly.

Jacaera was desperately hoping those whispers weren't true. Maybe he was still waiting for his nephew at Harrenhal. They could kill him together.

She couldn't see her mother lose anyone else. She couldn't lose anyone else.

All through the day, Jacaera flew for Harrenhal. The place her father died. Was killed by flame trying to rescue his own father.

Fire had taken many things Jacaera loved.

The sun was setting when she could finally see the castle in the distance. And though she was still far, Jacaera tried to strain her eyes and search for Caraxes.

She couldn't make out his shape anywhere, nor from how far away she was. But there was another shape she could see.

Massive and looming. The biggest of all.

Vhagar.

Maybe there was some fear in Jacaera. But most of that had been burned away by Jace's death. She didn't care that the biggest dragon was waiting for her at the castle.

First, she would look for Daemon. And there was already a creeping sense of dread in her. She knew. But she had to make sure.

And then, when she was fiery and hot and angry, she would kill that bitch.

The old lizard roared when Jacaera approached. Aemond knew she was coming.

Still, she didn't immediately land at the old decrepit castle. Jacaera saw the torches and lights littering it; there were people inside. She needed to know if Daemon was alive.

She flew high and circled the massive building. It was the biggest castle in Westeros. A shame Aegon burned it during his conquest.

Jacaera was careful to keep away from Vhagar as she leaned over Cannibal and scanned the ground. Caraxes wasn't there. Maybe Daemon got away.

The girl flew higher, further. Towards the lake.

And then that familiar feeling. Grief, devastation. Rage.

Caraxes' body was lying near the lake. He hadn't even been able to get off of the ground; the dragon's neck was half hanging from his shoulders.

It was true, then. Aemond attacked the dragon before it had a chance to defend itself. He'd killed Daemon like a coward. Dishonour would follow him for the rest of his life.