Do Not Presume to Know The Damned (Jacaerys x Helaena)

Jacaerys V

"Rhaenys' death led to both the escalation and eventual end to the Dornish War. Though the King and Queen scoured the castles and holdfasts of Dorne with Balerion and Vhagar, they could not conquer its sands and mountains. When at last Princess Meria of Dorne succumbed to old age, her son and heir Prince Nymor made to visit the growing King's Landing with overtures of peace and reconciliation after a decade of war." Septon Eustace droned.

Prince Jacaerys scratched the occasional note into the wax of his tablet, only half listening. He was a thousand leagues away, mind circling the conversation with the king and his mother for the umpteenth time. Though, the idea of making peace with Dorne seemed daft. Didn't Aegon's vision proclaim that the Seven Kingdoms should unite to face the threat from the North? Why would Aegon and Visenya allow them their independence?

Septon Eustace fielded several enthusiastic questions from Prince Aemond, leaning on the stick he liked to bang on the table when making a point or trying to regain their attention. Aemond loved the histories. Jace found them mind-numbing. The septon lacked the storytelling skills possessed by his father and grandsire. Every tale made dry and dull; all shine peeled away until only basic facts remained. He did not describe how Balerion and Vhagar's flames turned the sands of Dorne to glass and boiled lakes, how the villagers would flee from thunder, thinking it was the Black Dread come to burn them in their homes. Aemond, who loved tomes as thick as the boy was tall and similarly lacking in personality, relished in it.

Jace snagged on Aegon the Conqueror and his peace with the Dornish, feeling he was missing something. He was about to ask a question of Eustace when he felt something sharp pierce his side.

"Psst," Prince Aegon whispered, needling him with his stylus in the ribs. Jace hissed in pain, the stylus poking at tender muscles. His body was yet unused to the vigorous training with Harwin coupled with the lessons he was already taking with Ser Criston Cole.

Jace had offered the Kingsguard knight a dutiful apology. Princess Rhaenyra, his mother, did not expect him to, rolling her eyes and claiming that she would finance the replacement of the window, but Jace felt it necessary. Especially if he wished to keep taking lessons under the knight. Cole was surprisingly receptive to his act of contrition, only sniffing in displeasure once and commanding him to not do it again. Aegon was disappointed their instructor hadn't turned the entire lesson into a protracted lecture.

"What, Aegon?" Jace asked, rubbing his aching muscle.

"I have had an idea for a spot of fun. What say you?" Aegon's expression was full of mischief. His breath was thick with sweet wine, but anything was preferable to Eustace and his histories.

"Go on."

"The cooks like you."

"They like Luke," Jace replied. Too loud, Eustace turned his eye upon them, eyebrows drawn together.

"Are you listening, my prince?" he asked Aegon. He tapped his stick against the table between himself and the two princes. "Those who refuse to study the histories should expect to fall prey to the same errors as their forbearers." Jace could actually see the moment Aegon stopped paying attention as the septon prattled on. "You would do well to pay my lessons heed as you grow to manhood."

"I'll keep that in mind when I burn Dorne, Septon," Aegon said.

Either Septon Eustace did not mind the jab, or he did not note it. Jace could not say. There wasn't much any of their tutors could do if they disobeyed. None could raise a hand to harm them, royal as they were, and King Viserys abhorred the use of whipping boys.

"See that you do." Eustace turned to Aemond, sat further down the table from Aegon and Jace. "Now to answer your question, Prince Aemond, Vhagar was smaller than Meraxes and Balerion both, and Septon Barth speculates she might have been amongst the first eggs hatched on Dragonstone."