When Daemon Targaryen commanded the death of Aegon’s son, everyone believed that no power in the world could prevent the children’s grim fate. But at the last moment, the footsteps of guards and the cry of Criston Cole stopped the dagger. The blade did not sever the head, but its cold steel came so close that it left a deep, dark mark on the young prince’s neck, a wound that would remain for the rest of his life.

From that day on, Jaehaerys was never like the others. Each time he passed the servants or the soldiers, their eyes lingered on the scar at his throat.

His mother, Helaena, not long after, threw herself from the heights of Maegor’s Holdfast. Her fall was a descent into the depths of darkness for both her children: Jaehaerys and Jaehaera. From then on, nothing but silence and loneliness awaited them in the Red Keep.

During the years when the Dance of the Dragons drowned the realm in blood, dragons perished one after another. For the Targaryen children, nothing but ruin remained. Jaehaera sank into silence and melancholy. Jaehaerys, in contrast, found refuge: books.

He spent entire days in the library of the Red Keep. He turned pages of tomes and scrolls. He read of dragons and the conquests of Aegon, of the old and new gods, of sea monsters and the lands beyond the Narrow Sea. He devoured even children’s tales about mermaids. The more he read, the less he thought about the scar upon his throat. But even books could not fill the emptiness left by people’s stares.

Sometimes he fled to the sea. The shores of Blackwater Bay were the only place he could sit without feeling anyone’s gaze. He brought his books there, sat upon the cold sand, and turned the pages while the waves embraced him with their quiet song. Gradually, this refuge became his true home. Even his meals were brought to him at the shore by servants.

He became so absorbed in himself that he forgot the passage of time. He did not realize when Rhaenyra was burned alive. He did not notice how his father took the crown, and then was murdered by his own men. Even when the Iron Throne stood empty, no one looked at him; as though the scarred boy was no longer a part of this family. The crown went to Aegon, Rhaenyra’s son, and his sister Jaehaera became his wife. And Jaehaerys? He was simply glad that no one wanted anything from him.

The days passed in this manner, until one night, something happened.

That night, he sat upon the shore, reading Aegon the Conqueror for the countless time. Suddenly, from the corner of his eye, he saw a shadow in the water. It was a large fish… but strange. As if among the waves, something like long, shining hair moved. He quickly raised his head. But there was nothing, only waves.

For days afterward, that image haunted his mind. Hair? In the water? How could a fish have hair? Gradually he convinced himself that perhaps… he had seen a mermaid.

From then on, he spent even more time by the shore. He stole books from the library about mermaids. In one it was written: “The merfolk are drawn to things bright and beautiful. Flowers, jewels, pearls…” He did not believe it, but it was as though he wished to believe. So he began throwing little things into the sea: roses, broken pearls, even silver forks. Each time he prayed that no one would see him.

But nothing happened. His hope slowly faded. Until he did something he himself thought foolish. He took one of Jaehaera’s precious necklaces without permission, not for theft, but as an offering.

With trembling hands, he cast the necklace into the sea. He waited until sunset, but nothing happened. At last, disappointed, he gathered his books and turned to leave.

Then he heard it. The water splashed with a different rhythm. Something, or someone, was near. His heart pounding, he turned. And he saw.

Not far away, amid the waves, was a girl. Her wet hair, like seaweed, streamed across her shoulders. In her hands she held the necklace, examining it with care, as if studying the glow of the stones. Jaehaerys stood frozen. Her eyes, had not yet noticed the scarred prince upon the shore.