Baelon The Mourner
Targaryens did not bury their dead. A tradition dating back to the times of Valyria stated that their dead must be burned. Ashes were interred though, within the vault. Either in the Red Keep or Dragonstone. Father had had Aemon's ashes interned in the Red Keep, the place Aemon had loved so much. Baelon stood there before the vault, looking at the portrait of his brother. Tall, handsome, violet eyes and long silvery golden hair. Baelon smiled at the smirk on his brother's face.
Aemon had always been fun, and carefree, or serious, depending on the occasion. He had never been quick to anger, unlike some of their other siblings. Baelon and he had always gotten along well, sparring together, exploring the Red Keep, and then flying. When Aemon had told him he wanted to marry Jocelyn, Baelon had smiled and said that was a good choice. Jocelyn was beautiful and smart, and they had made a fantastic couple. She would've been a great Queen.
Not for the first time, Baelon felt grief mix with anger. Anger at Lord Tarth for not being the one to die, anger at Aemon for being so bloody stupid for not suspecting that the pirates might come looking, anger at the world for taking his brother from him. He was angry at father as well, for naming him his heir, whilst he had been away fighting, getting revenge for the death of his brother. He felt Vhagar grumble outside in the Dragonpit, and closed his eyes. It would not do to have his dragon burn half the city to the ground.
He looked at the portrait of his brother and whispered. "I will try and do right by you, brother. I promise. I have met with Rhaenys, I have agreed with her that her son or daughter will marry Viserys son or daughter, when he is wed. I promise you, your blood will sit the throne one day." His brother looked on, but of course being a portrait could not say anything. "I will try and help father and mother heal. It is not easy. Father barely looks at Mother now, and she barely looks at him. I fear the realm might be torn asunder because of that." He wondered how Aemon would fix that problem.
During the First Quarrel, neither of them had been able to convince Father to return home to the Red Keep. They had both blamed Saera for that. Saera with her strange ways. Her friends were gone or dead, Baelon would make sure they never harmed another innocent person. Though Saera was far from innocent. He had kept an eye on her, as a good big brother, and knew she held sway over Lys. He wanted to bring her home but she was too dangerous right now.
"What would you do, brother?" Baelon asked aloud. "How would you make Mother and Father see the error of their ways?" He couldn't hear Aemon's voice in his head, not like he used to when they were younger and that worried him. "Father is convinced that there is a great threat approaching, that is why he named me his heir, and not Rhaenys. I do not know what threat that is though."
Ser Jasper Connington, the Master of Whispers had said to Baelon that something was stirring in the east, though what it was he did not know. That had convinced father it was something dangerous. Baelon felt it might be Saera though he had no proof for that. Nor did he have any idea how she would amass such a fortune.
He looked at the portrait of his brother and said. "I haven't been able to keep my promise to you, brother. And for that I am sorry." He had promised Aemon that would look after Jocelyn whilst his brother was away, but seeing her would bring too much pain. She had deigned to remain in King's Landing, where her cousin Ser Willem served as Commander of the City Watch, but he had not seen her. He did not know if he could.
"I will try do better, to do right by you, brother. On that I swear." Baelon said. With that he turned and walked away, back to his host of worries and concerns.