𝓽𝔀𝓸 𝓱𝓾𝓷𝓭𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝔂𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓼 𝓪𝓰𝓸, Corlys Velaryon had taught his grandchildren how to swim in the ocean surrounding Driftmark. Jace had always loved the water and now reminisced on days spent with Luke, when they would both dive as deeply as possible beneath her surface. He loved the silky feel of water over his skin, the refreshing sharpness of jumping into her cold embrace, and the sensation that he was flying. Jace couldn't look upon the ocean now without being reminded that Luke was somewhere, slumbering beneath her depths. Guilt had been his constant companion since that raven had arrived from Dragonstone and informed him of his brother's fate. It had been his idea to send riders instead of ravens, and now he would forever regret that decision. Poor Luke. His little brother. His confidante. His very best friend in all the realm.
Vermax, sensing the grief welling in his rider, nudges Jace with his snout. He presses a shaking hand on the top of his dragon's head, allowing a breath to escape his lips. Jace couldn't allow himself to be consumed by the violent storm of emotion surging within him. For he could no longer exact his revenge upon Aemond Targaryen. Jace had departed from Winterfell, promising Cregan Stark that they would one day be reunited, only to be consumed by a yawning portal. Vermax had been in flight when brilliant flames passed over both of them. Jace had clamped his eyes shut, certain that something awful had happened to the both of them. When he opened his eyes, it appeared as if nothing had happened, for his flesh wasn't scorched, and Vermax was perfectly alright. Uncertain of the strange phenomena, Jace continued his journey to Dragonstone so he could tell his mother of his accomplishments and to mourn Luke.
Touching down upon the shore, Jace quickly realized that something was amiss. His mother's forces were nowhere in sight, and the sight of Vermax touching down outside Dragonstone had caused quite the stir. When armed guards in Baratheon sigils stormed outside the gates to challenge him, Jace retreated up and into the sky. He immediately assumed that the Baratheons had stormed Dragonstone, displacing his mother and his surviving family. He had little time to think, for Vermax was exhausted and needed to rest. So touching down near the ancestral castle of Driftmark, he made camp for the night.
Beside a crumbling tower, Jace had built a small fire that now slowly cooked fish he had caught with a rudimentary fishing pole. It was Vermax that informed Jace that they were no longer alone. Having been sleeping, the dragon lifted his head and let out a hiss in warning at the stranger and their approach. Drawing his sword, Jace turns toward them with a scowl. "You'll turn around if you value your life, friend. We've no need for company, so be gone." It was unbecoming of a crown prince to be so hostile, but Jace had run out of his reserves of charm.