Jace stared at the man before him, his mind racing. Aemon Targaryen, a Kingsguard? That made no sense. He had read every record, every history book, every account of House Targaryen. No Targaryen had ever taken the white cloak. The blood of the dragon was meant to rule, not serve. He searched his memory for the name, for anything that could place this man in the family's lineage, but nothing came to mind. Either this was a deception, or something was deeply wrong. He took a step back, his muscles tensing, watching Aemon's every movement. The knight noticed immediately, his sharp violet eyes narrowing slightly but he did not move.
"What king do you serve?" Jace asked, his voice even.
"Jaehaerys the Second," Aemon replied without hesitation.
Jace blinked, his breath hitching slightly, his mind grinding to a halt. "Jaehaerys the Second?" he repeated, his brow furrowing as the words sank in. "There has only been one Jaehaerys on the Iron Throne."
He was about to demand more, ask who this man really was, what trickery this could be, when a sudden caw split the air. A black crow swooped down from above, its wings flaring wide as it landed gracefully on Aemon's shoulder. The bird's feathers gleamed in the strange light, darker than shadow, its presence almost unnatural. Jace's eyes flicked to it, then back to Aemon, who had gone rigid, his face twisting into something between confusion and recognition. The crow's wings flapped once before it tilted its head and let out another sharp caw, casting a long shadow that stretched unnaturally across the courtyard, reaching even Jace's feet.
Aemon's expression shifted, something dawning in his eyes, before he suddenly bowed his head. Without another word, the crow took off, its wings cutting through the air as it disappeared into the sky. Aemon stepped forward, his face composed but his voice softer than before.
"I am afraid I will not be able to answer any of your questions, Prince Jacaerys," he said, lowering himself to one knee. "But it is truly an honor to both see and serve you."
Jace frowned, his heart pounding in his chest as he stared down at the kneeling knight. "Why?" he asked after a pause. "Why can't you answer my questions?"
Aemon did not look up. "I cannot answer that either."
Jace exhaled slowly, his frustration mounting, but before he could say anything more, Aemon continued. "But I can assist you with the reason you are here. I am quite an accomplished jouster and can show you how, if that is your wish."
Jace hesitated. His mind was still on the crow, the way it had appeared and left, the strange reaction it had drawn from Aemon, the way its shadow had stretched impossibly long. He didn't understand what was happening, why he had come here, why this world had changed from Maegor's, why the timeline was wrong, why this man existed at all. But he knew one thing for certain—he needed to learn how to joust, and Aemon did not seem to be deceiving him. He had read men well enough to know when they lied—a must have ability in Kings Landing—when they withheld, when they twisted words. Aemon was hiding things, but not out of deceit.
Jace looked down at him, his decision made. "Then teach me."
"Of course, Your Grace," Aemon said, still kneeling.
Jace frowned slightly. Your Grace? He wasn't king. He wouldn't be for a long time. It was strange, but now wasn't the time to dwell on it. He filed it away, another oddity in this already confusing world.
Aemon stood and gestured for Jace to follow. "We should move to the field."
Jace nodded and walked beside him as they moved through the empty city. The streets stretched unnaturally, silent and still, like a place abandoned. As they walked, Aemon spoke. "Jousting is as much about control as it is about strength. Many believe the goal is simply to strike the hardest blow, but that is only part of it. Position, balance, and precision matter more. You must learn to guide the horse as well as the lance, to read your opponent's movements and adjust before impact."
Jace listened, his mind absorbing the words but also caught on the emptiness of the city. The silence felt unnatural, but he ignored it, focusing on the lesson. "I've never jousted before," he admitted. "I ride dragons, not horses."
Aemon turned his head slightly, eyes widening, his steps slowing for just a moment before he caught himself. "Dragons... of course," He said it carefully, as if the word itself was foreign to his tongue.
Jace gave him a brief glance but continued walking. "Yes."
Aemon was quiet for a long moment before speaking again, his tone more controlled, his words measured. "How long have you ridden?"
Jace nodded. "Since I was a boy. Vermax."
Aemon breathed in, as if steadying himself. "And... how does it feel?"
Jace glanced at him, something in the question making him pause, but Aemon's expression was composed, his eyes unreadable. He considered not answering but shrugged. "Like nothing else. It's freedom. Power. A connection you can't explain. You move together, think together. There's no separation between rider and dragon."
Aemon nodded, his gaze distant for a moment before he exhaled and returned to the subject at hand. "Then you understand. The horse and rider must be the same. Though a horse is not a dragon, it can be guided if the rider knows how."
Jace smirked slightly. "Did you have your own dragon? Was it sworn into the Kingsguard as well?"
Aemon chuckled, shaking his head. "No, I did not."
Jace raised an eyebrow but let it go as they neared the field. The sight of it made him pause. It was large, well-maintained, with a full jousting arena set up. The wood of the tilts looked polished, the stands empty but clean. It should not have been here. Not in this empty city. Not in this dream world. He felt the wrongness of it, but he ignored it. There were too many strange things here to question every one.
Aemon stepped forward, walking toward the racks where the lances were lined neatly. "We will start with the basics. Mounting, guiding, controlling the lance. Then we will see how well you take a hit."
"Now get on the horse," he said gesturing to the destrier that had magically appeared on the field.
...
Jace adjusted his grip on the reins, feeling the horse's steady breathing beneath him. Aemon watched him closely, nodding once before stepping to the side. "Before you hold a lance in the charge, you must learn to control the horse beneath you," Aemon said. "A rider who cannot guide his mount is nothing but a sack of meat waiting to be unhorsed."
Jace took a breath, steadying himself. He had always been comfortable on horseback, how could he not be when he regularly rode a dragon, but this was different from the riding he knew. He wasn't galloping through open fields or maneuvering through castle courtyards.
Aemon gestured toward the list, a long, narrow strip of ground with barriers set up to separate riders. "We will not charge yet. Ride the course at a trot first, then a canter, then a gallop. Feel the way your mount moves, learn to guide him without jerking the reins like a panicked child."
Jace squeezed his legs and urged the horse forward, keeping his back straight as the animal stepped into a steady trot. The motion was easy enough. The rhythm of the hooves against the dirt, the steady sway of the horse beneath him—it felt natural. He focused on keeping his balance, on making small corrections with the reins rather than overcompensating.
"Good," Aemon called out. "Now faster."
Jace pressed his heels in slightly, and the horse responded, moving into a smooth canter. The wind tugged at his clothes, the ground passing beneath him faster now. He adjusted his grip, keeping his hands light on the reins, feeling the way the horse moved beneath him.
"Now at full speed," Aemon ordered.
Jace nudged the horse forward, feeling the powerful muscles move beneath him as they transitioned into a gallop. The rush of speed was exhilarating, the hooves pounding against the ground as he kept his focus straight ahead. He felt stable, balanced, the motion of the horse predictable beneath him. When he reached the end of the course, he slowed the horse to a stop and turned it back toward Aemon.
Aemon nodded. "You ride well, but riding is not jousting. Again."
Jace clenched his jaw but complied, guiding the horse back into position. Over and over, he rode the course, adjusting his speed, learning how to make sharper turns, how to control the horse with just the slightest movements of his body. Aemon watched in silence, only speaking when Jace made a mistake. After what felt like hours, Aemon finally motioned for him to dismount. Jace swung himself off the saddle, his legs aching from the prolonged effort. He rolled his shoulders, trying to shake off the soreness.
Aemon stepped forward, holding out the wooden lance. "Now, we add the lance."
Jace took it, immediately feeling how cumbersome it was. He'd held one before when he was younger, but riding with it was a different matter. He adjusted his grip, trying to find a way to hold it that didn't feel completely unnatural.
"The lance must become an extension of your arm," Aemon said. "If you fight against it, if you treat it like a burden, it will drag you down."
Jace nodded, shifting the lance in his hand again. He mounted once more, feeling the awkward weight of the lance as he settled into the saddle. It was long, heavy in a way that made balancing difficult. He clenched his jaw and turned the horse toward the course.
"Ride at a trot," Aemon instructed. "Keep the lance steady."
Jace did as he was told, urging the horse forward. The lance wobbled in his grip, the weight shifting uncomfortably with every movement. He adjusted, tightening his grip slightly, trying to keep it level.
"Too stiff," Aemon called out. "You are gripping it like a drunkard holds his wine. Hold it firmly, but allow some give."
Jace loosened his grip slightly, trying to find the right balance between control and flexibility. The lance still wobbled, but not as much.
"Faster."
Jace nudged the horse into a canter, feeling the weight of the lance shift again. He struggled to keep it steady, but the movement of the horse made it difficult. He clenched his jaw and tried to focus, his arm beginning to ache from the effort. Aemon watched him silently, only speaking when Jace lost control of the lance entirely and had to rein in the horse. "Again," he said.
Jace ground his teeth but did as he was told. Over and over, he rode the course, adjusting his grip, trying to keep the lance steady. Each time, he improved slightly, but the weight still felt unnatural. After a full day, Aemon finally called for a halt. "You are improving," he admitted. "But you will not strike anything like this."
Jace dismounted, rolling his shoulder. He looked up at Aemon. "What am I doing wrong?"
Aemon studied him for a moment before speaking. "You are too focused on controlling the lance and not on where you wish to strike. Your body will adjust if your mind knows what it wants."
Jace nodded, thinking over the advice. He turned to the course again. "One more time."
Aemon smirked slightly. "You are still stubborn."
Jace managed to catch that slight slip of language. 'What does he mean by still stubborn?' He thought to himself. 'Does he know me?'
'No I would've known someone like him...'
Jace climbed back into the saddle, gripping the lance again. He took a breath, setting his focus ahead. He rode forward, keeping his grip firm but relaxed, focusing not on the lance itself but on where he wanted it to go. As he rode, something shifted. The weight of the lance still pulled at his arm, but he wasn't fighting it as much. He adjusted his grip slightly, guiding it rather than forcing it. When he reached the end of the course, he slowed the horse and turned back toward Aemon.
The Kingsguard knight nodded. "Better."
Jace exhaled, rolling his shoulder. "Again."
And so they continued. Hours turned into days, though there was no sun or moon to mark the time. Jace didn't feel exhaustion, only the soreness of constant training. He lost track of how many times he rode the course, how many times he adjusted his grip, how many times Aemon corrected him. He learned to guide the lance without thinking about it, to aim without forcing it. He still missed more than he hit, but his control was improving. At one point, as they paused for a brief moment, Aemon looked around. "There is no sleep here," he noted. "Such a strange land..."
Jace looked up at him. "This world is not the same as the one we know."
Aemon studied him for a moment, then simply nodded. "Then we keep training."
And they did. Jace trained endlessly, refining his technique, learning how to balance the lance while controlling the horse, how to keep his strikes from going wide. It was slow, frustrating work, but with each mistake, he learned. As more time passed, Aemon finally began to set up targets along the course. Simple wooden shields mounted on posts. Jace rode toward them, focusing, aiming, but he missed more than he hit. His lance would slide past, or he'd hit the wrong spot, or the impact would be weak.
Aemon stood by, arms crossed. "You hesitate at the last moment."
Jace scowled. "I don't."
"You do," Aemon said simply. "You overthink. Trust your instincts."
Jace exhaled through his nose, nodding. He mounted again, taking the lance in his grip. He rode forward, focusing on the target, and this time, when he struck, the impact was solid. The wooden shield splintered slightly.
Aemon nodded. "Again."
And so it continued. Jace trained relentlessly, each pass improving slightly. He learned to anticipate the impact, to adjust his aim instinctively. The hesitation faded as his body adjusted. He was still far from perfect, but he was better. He could feel it. Finally, after what felt like weeks, Aemon stepped back and regarded him with something like approval. "You are ready for the next step."
Jace rolled his shoulder, gripping the lance tighter. "What's the next step?"
Aemon smirked. "You ride against an opponent."
...
Jace adjusted his grip on the lance as he sat atop the horse, staring at Aemon across the field. The Kingsguard knight was already in position, his own lance resting in the crook of his arm. His posture was perfect, even with his limited experience Jace could see the sheer skill the man had. Jace took a deep breath, forcing his body to relax. Aemon lifted his lance slightly. "You are no longer striking wood, Jacaerys. Now you must strike a man, or be struck yourself. And trust me, I will not be gentle."
Jace nodded, shifting in the saddle. "I wouldn't expect you to be."
Aemon inclined his head slightly, a ghost of a smile on his lips. Then, without another word, he lowered his lance and spurred his horse forward. Jace did the same, digging his heels into the flanks of his mount. The horse surged forward, powerful muscles bunching beneath him as they picked up speed. The wind roared in his ears, the ground blurred beneath them, and for a moment, he felt weightless, like he was flying on Vermax.
Then he saw Aemon coming straight for him.
Jace tightened his grip on the lance, adjusting the angle slightly as he aimed for Aemon's chest. His opponent's lance was locked in place, unwavering, a perfect line leading directly at him. Jace clenched his teeth and braced himself.
The impact came like a hammer to the chest.
Jace's world spun as he was ripped from the saddle, the force of Aemon's lance striking his ribs sending him tumbling through the air. He hit the ground hard, rolling across the dirt before coming to a stop on his back. His breath was gone, his chest ached, and for a brief moment, he could do nothing but stare up at the sky, gasping for air. Had they not been in this strange dreamworld he had no doubt that he'd have at least a dozen broken bones or the lance might have straight up pierced his body.
Aemon rode past him before turning his horse back around, looking down at him from atop his mount. "You hesitated again," he said simply. "You are fast and strong for your age, but you still hesitate in the final moment."
Jace groaned as he pushed himself to his feet, wincing as he dusted himself off. "You could've warned me how much that was going to hurt."
"If I had, you would have braced for it, and you wouldn't have learned," Aemon replied as he dismounted. He walked over to Jace and offered him a hand. "Again."
Jace took the hand, pulling himself up. He let out a breath and rolled his shoulders. The ache in his ribs was dull and not very painful but he could still feel it, like he knew it was there. He walked back to his horse, rubbing its neck before mounting once more.
"Again," he repeated, setting his jaw.
They took their positions once more, and this time, Jace forced himself to focus not on the impact, not on the fear of being struck, but on his aim. He leaned slightly forward, adjusted the weight of the lance in his grip, and steadied his breathing. Aemon charged first. Jace followed, his horse surging forward beneath him. He kept his gaze locked on Aemon's chest, ignoring everything else, the pounding hooves, the rush of air, the tightening in his stomach. He didn't hesitate this time.
The lances struck.
The force of it nearly wrenched Jace's arm from its socket, but he stayed firm, his balance barely holding. Aemon's lance struck his shoulder but glanced off, and for the first time, Jace felt his own lance hit something solid. Aemon grunted as the tip struck his breastplate, not hard enough to knock him off but enough that it had landed true.
They rode past each other, slowing their horses before turning back around.
Aemon looked down at his armor where the lance had struck, then back up at Jace. A small smirk played at his lips. "Better."
Jace let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. It felt good to see that he was making progress, of course how much of it translated into the real world remained to be seen.
"Again," he said.
Aemon nodded. "Again."
And so it continued. Over and over, they clashed, the sound of wood splintering and armor denting filling the empty lists. Jace lost every time, but with every bout, he improved. He learned how to adjust his aim mid-charge, how to read his opponent's movements, how to use his weight to his advantage and to substitute for his strength. Days passed, though there was no way to truly mark time in this world. Jace felt the growing awareness of his own body, of the horse beneath him, of the rhythm that Aemon and himself both fell into. Aemon did not go easy on him, and Jace learned quickly that hesitation, even for a moment, would cost him.
Finally, after what felt like weeks of relentless training, Jace landed his first true victory.
The lances crashed against armor, but this time, it was Aemon who was unseated. He hit the ground hard, rolling across the dirt before coming to a stop. Jace pulled back on the reins, slowing his horse before turning it around. Aemon groaned as he sat up, shaking his head. He looked up at Jace, and for the first time, there was something in his expression that almost looked like pride.
"You have learned well," he said, standing up and brushing himself off.
Jace exhaled, gripping the reins tighter. "It only took me a few dozen broken ribs, and likely a few deaths."
Aemon smiled. "A true knight is forged in pain."
Jace swung himself off his horse, wincing slightly as he stretched out his sore limbs. He walked over to Aemon, who clasped his arm firmly.
"You still have much more to learn, but it seems we are out of time for tonight," Aemon said.
"It's time to wake up," he muttered.
The world blurred, and the dream faded.
___________________________
Jace opened his eyes to the dull ache in his head, the same pounding pain that always followed after training in his dreams. He had spent what felt like weeks in that place, forcing himself through lesson after lesson, every hour stretched thin until it bled into the next. His mind had absorbed all of it, and now his mind protested the strain of fitting so much into so little time. He pressed his fingers to his temples, exhaling slowly as he tried to ease the pressure. He shifted under the blankets and only then realized he wasn't alone. His arm was warm, pinned beneath something soft, and as he turned his head, he saw Helaena lying next to him, curled up close. Her silver hair was sprawled across the pillows, a few stray strands draped across her face as she breathed evenly. Jace smiled at the sight, watching her for a moment before reaching out and carefully tucking the strands behind her ear. She stirred at his touch, her body shifting slightly as her violet eyes fluttered open.
She blinked a few times, adjusting to the light before focusing on him. "Good morning," she murmured sleepily.
Jace ran a hand through his hair before rubbing his temples again. "Morning." He glanced at the curtains, noting the light creeping through. "When did you come here?"
"Last night," Helaena said, her voice still laced with sleep. She stretched slightly, rubbing at her eyes before settling her head against the pillow again. "I tried to reach you in my dreams, but I couldn't. It felt like you were gone."
Jace's smile faltered for a moment. He hadn't realized how deeply he had slipped into that other world. "I was... somewhere else," he said vaguely. Helaena didn't press, only nodding as she watched him. She knew Jace well enough to understand that he would tell her when he was ready.
Jace shifted and moved to get out of bed, but as soon as his feet hit the floor and he tried to stand, his legs nearly buckled beneath him. His body screamed in protest, reminding him of the wounds he had taken during the last melee. Helaena sat up quickly, her eyes widening as she reached for him. "Jace!"
"I'm fine," he muttered as he steadied himself, straightening his posture. He exhaled through his nose before rolling his shoulders, easing into the familiar tension of his muscles. He had been so caught up in training his mind that he had nearly forgotten how much damage his body had taken.
Helaena frowned, watching him carefully. "You're not fine."
Jace ignored her, taking a step forward and beginning to stretch. His ribs still ached, his limbs heavy, but he needed to get moving. He clenched his fists and loosened them again, feeling the stiffness in his fingers.
"You should rest," Helaena said as she scooted closer to the edge of the bed, her legs curling beneath her as she sat up fully. "You're still hurt."
"I need to be ready for the joust," Jace said simply, rolling his shoulders before shifting into a light exercise. He clenched his stomach, testing his balance before lowering into a squat. His legs burned, his body sluggish, but he pushed through it.
Helaena pouted, her expression turning childish as she crossed her arms. "You don't have to enter the joust."
Jace glanced at her before continuing his stretches. "I agreed not to enter the blood melee," he reminded her. "But I will not pass up another chance for honor."
Helaena huffed, falling back against the pillows. "You'll just get hurt again."
Jace smirked at her tone. "I'll be fine."
"You're stubborn."
"And you worry too much."
"Someone has to," she mumbled, pulling the blankets up around her.
Jace shook his head, finishing his exercises before finally sitting back down on the edge of the bed. He reached over and took her hand, squeezing it lightly. "It's expected of me," he said, his voice softer this time. "I am a knight now."
Helaena sighed but didn't pull away. Instead, she squeezed his hand back and gave him a look that was half frustration, half affection. "Then you better win," she muttered.
Jace chuckled. "That's the plan."
Jace then swung his legs off the bed, rolling his shoulders again before standing fully. His muscles still ached, but movement would help. He reached for the ties of his nightshirt, tugging them loose before pulling the fabric over his head and tossing it aside. His skin was littered with fading bruises and cuts, the deep ones turning yellow, others still dark. He had hardened over the past few months, lean muscle defined across his chest and arms from relentless training. He stepped toward the washbasin, splashing cold water onto his face, rubbing at the sleep in his eyes before reaching for his clothes.
Behind him, he heard a sharp intake of breath. Jace turned slightly, catching Helaena's face burning red as she quickly turned away, gripping the blankets tightly around herself. She peeked for only a moment, then snapped her head back, her entire posture stiff.
Jace smirked but said nothing, pulling his breeches on and fastening them. He reached for his doublet next, slipping his arms into the sleeves before cursing under his breath. His body was still stiff, his ribs aching, making it difficult to reach the ties properly.
"Helaena," he said, glancing toward her.
She still had her back to him, her shoulders hunched slightly. "What?" she mumbled.
"Help me."
She hesitated, fingers curling into the sheets before she sighed and pushed herself up. Slowly, she slid off the bed, stepping toward him carefully. Her hands hovered near the laces on his doublet before she cleared her throat and took hold of them properly. She worked quickly, but her fingers were clumsy, as if she was trying too hard to focus. Jace watched her, the heat rising in her face as she tightened the ties. He felt the warmth of her fingertips through the fabric, her hands brushing lightly against his skin. She was close, her breath fanning against his chest as she tugged the last lace into place.
"Done," she said, her voice quieter than before.
"Thanks," Jace muttered, clearing his throat as he stepped back. Helaena did the same, her hands retreating to her sides, her eyes darting everywhere but at him.
Jace ran a hand through his hair before exhaling. "You should go back before your mother realizes you're not in your room."
Helaena nodded but didn't move immediately. She bit her lip, shifting her weight from foot to foot before stepping forward. She reached up quickly, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before pulling away.
Jace barely had time to react before she turned toward the wall, pressing her hand against the hidden passage. The stone shifted, the hidden door creaking open. She glanced back at him one last time, her face still flushed, then slipped inside, vanishing into the darkness.
Jace lifted his hand to his cheek, the warmth of her lips lingering on his skin. It was soft, fleeting, but it sent a strange sensation through him, something he couldn't quite place. His fingers brushed over the spot, his brow furrowing slightly as he exhaled. He shook his head, dropping his hand as he stepped away from the passage. There was no time to dwell on it. Today was another day, and he had much to do.
(AN: So Jace has met the Dragonknight and is being trained by him. Some of you may wonder who the hell Jahaerys II is well I guess you'll find out one day. Jokes aside it's obvious that Jace being who he is would have a big effect on canon and it's clear that Aemon in fact knows Jace. Strange. Anyway lots of mysteries all for the future. For now Jace readies himself for the Joust but before hand he's going to see just what he missed out on in the Blood Melee.)
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