Jaehaerys finished off the last Ironborn with his own hands. He had run out of the castle. He hadn't had a chance to help those around him, and that gnawed at his stomach. But a man has priorities, and his family is one of them.
He finally reached the Stark mansion. The northmen were better than the Ironborn, but they were outnumbered. The battle was dragging on too long. He killed every fool who stood in his way, eventually clearing a path for the northerners. Victory came quickly.
A direct attack was something only a fool would plan. The Ironborn were not very capable warriors on land; their advantage lay in their ability to surprise and attack when you least expected it. The northerners would have won that fight; it just would have taken them longer.
"Where's Brandon?" he asked Ned.
"Protecting Sansa," the man said between heavy breaths. "Rhaelle is with her," the prince heard no more. He ran into the mansion.
"Brandon! Sansa!" he shouted for them to hear him, but no one came out, no one answered his cry. He began to run, rushing through the rooms as he shouted.
'Rhaelle, Rhaelle, where is my daughter!' He ended up running toward the secret exit of the mansion. The landlord had described that same exit. Jaehaerys had ordered that it be guarded closely. Now it could have been helpful if Sansa and the others had decided to escape. But Brandon would not do that. He is not someone who runs away from danger.
Jaehaerys reached a hallway, four men dead. A devastating fight, it seemed. He didn't look at any of the dead northerners.
"Brandon!" he shouted when he looked at the man lying on the floor. Brandon was crawling.
"That way, that way," he said between gasps as he made an effort.
"Brandon, listen to me!" The prince took him by the face.
"Oh, no. Jaehaerys," Brandon began to cry. "They took them, the passage, that way, that way," Brandon tried to crawl again, but couldn't find the strength. Jaehaerys looked at the scene on the floor.
Brandon wouldn't lose to four men. They're too few, thought the prince, before shaking his head. When you're protecting someone, you can't fight the way you used to.
"They took them? The... The Ironborn?" Jaehaerys asked.
Brandon didn't answer, his head hitting the ground as he continued to crawl.
"I... can't dissa...point... the... prince," Brandon wasn't quite sane. He had lost blood.
"Jaehaerys!" he heard Eddard say.
"Bring someone to heal him," said the prince as he stood up.
'Are the gods punishing me?' he wondered as he slapped his face. 'Shouldn't I have killed Rhaegar?'
"Jaehaerys, what's wrong?" he heard Ned say.
"I need to go," he said as he ran out. "Sansa... she's not here, send people to look for her." He had no time to waste in lamenting. If the gods punished him, why would they go after his daughter and Sansa? That's not justice, it's revenge.
He needed to run, but where was he supposed to go? He moved; it was unlikely that the Ironborn would move through the crowd. There was a quieter path between the alleys.
"My... son," he heard a broken voice say.
A dark-haired woman. Her eyes were darkened by grief. She looked at him, her eyes empty, she didn't smile, she didn't scream, she wasn't scared. It was as if she had lost the ability to feel.
"My... son," she said again.
Jaehaerys looked at the ground; there was blood. Her son was probably dead. Why didn't they take her away? The Ironborn were known for taking salt wives. What was the point of torturing the poor woman?
He shook his head, feeling sorry for her, but he needed answers.
"Ironborn, where did you go?" the prince asked.
She did not respond verbally; her mouth was half open, and saliva dripped from her lips. Jaehaerys stood up and couldn't help but be annoyed. A glint caught his eye. On the floor, a strand of copper shone in the moonlight. Jaehaerys picked it up.
"Sansa," how could he not recognize her hair? Even covered in dirt. He looked at the ground and, in addition to the hair, found a continuous trail of blood, as if someone had been wounded and there had been no time to stop the bleeding.
He found them. As it was not a busy road, he could still make out the tracks of a few men. He continued down through the city, following the trail of blood and copper hair, hoping he had not misjudged the situation.
Finally, he reached a house, the bloodstains leading him there.
Jaehaerys didn't bother to knock. He heard banging from inside and kicked the door down—two Ironborn were about to draw their swords. Sansa was on the floor, and another man was Theon; Jaehaerys recognized him. The prince killed the two men with swords in a matter of seconds.
"No, you shouldn't be here," said Theon, his crotch still bleeding. "He said you'd be hunting dragons and lions today," he said in panic.
"Sansa," Jaehaerys approached the redhead. He let out a sigh of relief. But her eyes did not look at him. She seemed as empty as that woman whom he had found before.
"Rhaelle... Rhaelle," she said. "Rhaelle... she's... she's..." Her lips moved, but Jaehaerys heard nothing.
"My... son," Sansa's voice, her expression, everything about her reminded him of that woman.
She fainted, Jaehaerys took her pulse, and she was still alive. Theon's men had been beating her, not trying to kill her but to hurt her. She had bruises all over her body. Her scalp was red, as was her face, splattered with blood.
"No... no..." Theon kept murmuring.
Jaehaerys wrinkled his nose. The smell of burnt flesh stung his nostrils. It looked like one of Qyburn's experiments. He looked in the direction of the scent. A brazier was burning, and a small body wrapped in a blanket lay there. Jaehaerys approached. He recognized a small human figure.
He wanted to deny it, to tell himself it wasn't true. That Rhaelle was fine.
"Listen to me, Jaehaerys," Theon crawled away from him. "She's-"
Jaehaerys lunged at Theon. His fist struck his face, and he felt the bone break beneath his fist. That distinctive crack he had grown accustomed to.
Jaehaerys beat him until there was nothing left to win, just a red puddle on the splintered wood. Jaehaerys watched as the blood and brain matter stirred. Tears fell from his eyes.
The prince walked over to Sansa. Her body was sprawled on the floor, her hair disheveled and her dress torn. They had beaten her body, but her mind, her mind had suffered the worst punishment.
Jaehaerys forced himself to walk to the brazier. He looked at the bundle wrapped in cloth, his throat closing with horror. He took it from the flames, the blood on his hands bubbling before drying. Jaehaerys could withstand the fire well.
'And why couldn't my daughter?' he thought, his heart in knots.
The prince carried his daughter's body. He looked at the house; it was a mess. The owners had probably escaped as soon as they saw the Ironborn on the coast. He found a piece of cloth. It was dirty, but he couldn't carry his daughter with his carbonized flesh at eyesight. He wrapped her carefully, and for a moment a piece of charred flesh stuck to his hand.
He gritted his teeth and continued.
Finally, he placed his little girl on top of Sansa's body as he carried them. He prayed all the way back that Sansa would not wake up. He walked through Lannisport with his back straight.
He did not look around; his ears did not even work. He walked the way he had come. He arrived at the same place where he had found the clues to find Sansa. He looked at one of his Unsullied, a group that approached him.
Jaehaerys watched their lips move, but he didn't hear a word. His brain was dizzy, and the blood in his body burned along with the block of ice that had formed in his heart.
He looked at one of his men, who was carrying the three-section staff. Jaehaerys watched Eddard approach, the man quickly taking Sansa and the little girl wrapped in cloth. Eddard looked at him strangely.
Jaehaerys thought, painfully, that Eddard's father and brother had died in the same way, burned, burned by Jaehaerys' father.
"Protect Sansa," said the prince, or at least that was his intention, as he could not hear his own voice. He moved toward the immaculate man with his weapon, took it, and began to walk. It was there that he saw more people. Sansa was with her father and his men; she was safe.
Jaehaerys... he had things to do.
-------------
Arya hugged the little girl in the Altair mansion. She was in the prince's solar; she had snuck in there. It was the only room where Rhaelle was happy.
"Da... ca... ys, Da... cays."
"No, it's Dracarys," Arya corrected, a little fed up. "And there are no dragons here. They're in ArgentStone."
"Lady Arya..."
"No," Arya didn't want to hand Rhaelle over to the nurse. Sansa had given the baby to her; she trusted her. And Arya ran off with the baby in her arms.
She didn't know where her sister was; she hoped Jaehaerys was with her.
"Dacays," said the little girl with difficulty.
"I wish a dragon would burn all the squids," said Arya, hugging her niece. Tears began to fall from her face.
-------------------
Note: I'll be honest, I initially planned not to reveal that Rhaelle is alive until the attack is over, which means not having the previous chapter just these after the 81 and without the final part.