Many Years Ago -The Griffin Lord
Ser Arthur Dayne held the head high by its dark strands before dropping it before Prince Rhaegars feet. It streamed crimson red. "The Kings Justice!" Men cried out. "The Sword of the Morning!" With a single duel at the Stoney Septs, a rebellion ended. A single dance of steel and victory was theirs. The townsfolk watched with stony silence.
The blue eyes of Robert Baratheon seemed surprised in death. He looked young. Jon thought. A hint of pity in his chest for the outlaw lord. In another life, he would have followed the Lord of Storms End into battle. House Connington was sworn to the Lord of Storms End. Yet when the missive came from Kings Landing and Storms End summoning their banners, the choice was an easy one. Rhaegar was always the choice. Still, some guilt gnawed at him. Guilt of a victor. My young liege forever young. Tears almost formed. In the minds of singers, he shall always be young and valiant. Men jeered. Some spat. Jon bit his tongue from speaking out. Outlaw or no, he was still a Lord of Storms End and deserved more dignity, but he said nothing. He deserved it. Jon told himself. Lord Robert was a fool for challenging House Targaryen. Fool! Fool! Fool! Jon thanked the Gods Lord Robert was not a cautious man, or the challenge may have proved lethal. "My prince." He dipped his head. "Your orders." Rhaegar was the future. A bright future as brilliant as the dawn. Prince Rhaegar looked like a prince of song in the dark armor of his house with long, luscious, beautiful hair flowing past his shoulders. Jon would serve him proudly, without hesitation.
"We knit the realm back together, Jon." His lips perched up in a slight smile. "Yes, we shall have peace ser."
Present Day 300 AC
Queen Lyanna Stark.
The litter carried her throughout the courtyard before halting before the Tower of the Hand. Once she would have walked the short distance and enjoyed the fresh air, and chatted with some of the staff, but she was idiotic back then. The memory was as dim as a dream. Most days, Winterfell felt like a dream. Before she became a queen, she was the daughter of Lord Rickard Stark, more animal than a lady. The sound of swords in the courtyard used to interest her and she would watch down from her room as Brandon drilled with the Winterfell guard. She bullied Benjen to fight with her in the Godswood and with every whack of the practice swords she dreamed of knighthood and adventure. My King has taught me how to be wise. And Rhaegar was beyond wise with the things he said. They always made sense once you thought about them a while. People always felt stupid in his company. He understood complex things so easily.
Lesser men struggle to see his brilliance.
Ser Allister Thorne, her sworn shield, offered his hand. "Your grace." She accepted graciously. It was Rhaegars command to name him her protector and accompany her whenever she left her quarters.
"My queen should have a shield." Rhaegar said.
Lyanna loved the way Rhaegar said, my queen. A dragon was always possessive of the things he owned. And she was finally the Queen in name as well as deed. She quickly touched her crown, making sure it remained real. It was cool to the touch. Three years prior, Elia Martell passed away because of illness and she and Rhaegar finally made everything official. I've always been his queen since the day he crowned me before the Lords and Ladies at Harrenhall. He saw something special in me.
"A life of meaning." Lyanna recalled his smooth voice in her tent. "Our adventure will be the stuff of legend."
Though due to political realities because of the Faith of the Seven and the Great Lords of the Realm, her title remained a Royal Paramour. For years she endured the whispers in the halls of court, never openly Rhaegar would have had their tongues if they had. Foul whispers that made her furious. When Queen Elia died, every obstacle melted away like summer snow and Rhaegar married her a fortnight later. Our song is the story of ice and fire. It was not poor Elias fault, but she wasn't right to bear the Prince that was Promised that would save them all from the monsters Beyond the Wall.
Still, Lyanna held no hatred towards Elia. She was always kind and polite. Lyanna wept for her when the Gods claimed her and it was no false act on her part. She hoped to showcase the poise and kindness Queen Elia showcased every day of her life. I've taken up the charities she once donated her time to. The people of Kings Landing seemed to hate her less because of it. Though Elias children trialed her. Lyanna pitied them. They lacked the bloodline to fulfill their father's herculean task. The duty would be hard, but her husband could bear the burden and make the hard choices required of a powerful king. However strong a king he was, he still had the weakness and pride of a father. Rhaegar did them no kindness by keeping up the murmurers farce. Unlike her son Baelon, who was born to lead the world of men. My perfect son. My only son.
Three children she birthed for Rhaegar. Two daughters and one son. Visenya, Naerys, and Baelon. The right number for the Head of the Dragon, like Aegon the Conqueror and his sister wives. Visenya and Naerys were twins of six name days. One day they would marry her Baelon like Aegon Conqueror of Old.
Ser Oswell held the post outside of the Small Council Chambers. "My queen." He dipped his head politely. "His Grace waits for you." And the Councilors of the Small Council it went without saying.
"My thanks ser." Lyanna voiced pensively with a small smile forming. A habit she picked up from her husband.
Rhaegars Council compromised of Ser Arthur Dayne the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Lord Mace Tyrell Master of Laws, Lord Velaryon Master of Ship, Lord Connington as Hand of the King. Lord Yronwood Master of Coin. Grand Maester Marwyn, Lord Robert Whent as Master of Whispers. Prince Viserys and both of Rhaegars sons attended aswell.
Lord Velaryon noted her first and offered a sly smile, but it was Crown Prince Aegon who embraced her first. He was closest to her sited the furthest place away from the head of the table. Baelon remained by Rhaegars right side facing the Hand of the King. A tang of bitterness remained by his violet eyes. Rhaegars eyes. Baelon should have them too, not merely Stark grey. Though when they stood side by side, you could see Rhaegars features underneath the Stark coloring."Ah mother!" Aegon said cheerfully. "I was worried you lost your way." His touch was warm, and she felt her lips twirling up in a smile. Prince Aegon may not be the Prince that was Promised, but he was still a friendly boy. It was hard to dislike Elia's son.
"The litter was slow this evening." She admitted.
"Well, we are all the better for your presence." His violet eyes sparkled with mirth.
Baelon twisted his head. He looked annoyed. "Enough flatteries, brother. My mother should be fortunate I'm not king or I would discipline her for such tardiness." A shiver went down her spine at the steel in his voice. He sounded like a king. "Women require a firm hand from their husbands, especially the dull ones." He smiled. "Don't be dull, mother. I shall not excuse your weakness again." She gazed at Rhaegar, who said nothing, his nose still deep in scrolls of parchment. Baelon was simply acting a king. He needs to be strong to handle the trials of the future. Lyanna accepted it meekly.
"Oh yes, you have such strong hands, brother. I'm envious." Prince Aegon mocked.
It took a moment before Baelon realized he was being made light of. "What did you say to me?" He seethed.
"I'm envious of your hands. Everyone from Sunspear to Winterfell is envious of those tiny hands, brother." Aurane Velaryon couldn't suppress a snicker. Lyanna was suddenly afraid of what Baelon would do. He hated when men laughed at him. Great men always hated when their inferiors mocked what they didn't understand.
"He's only teasing Baelon." Lyanna said, trying to soothe him. She could always soothe the fierce beast in his chest struggling for a release. It was an intense burden his destiny as the savior of the realm. My special boy. You shall bring the Dawn.
Her son brooded. "Be thankful I don't wish to expend myself." With a disinterested wave of his hand, he settled the matter. Prince Viserys pushed out a seat for her and gallantly pushed her in. Her good brother had always treated her kindly, much like the Queen Mother. I shall have to have tea with Princess Rhaella soon. Lyanna knew. It had been far too long, but Rhaegar didn't like her spending anytime with his other family members unless he was present.
"The tidings from the North, your grace, speak the truth. The days of destiny are at hand." Maester Marwyn said. "Deserters from the Nights Watch have increased. Spreading tales of the Others. And the Wildling raids have increased to levels not seen in generations. I have word from the Lord Commander requesting more men and supplies." Rhaegar was a good friend of the Nights Watch and sent gold and men as if they grew on trees. Still, the Nights Watch always wanted for more. Lord Yronwood always complained about producing the coin needed to repair generations of neglect.
Rhaegar nodded his head. "As I have dreamed, and the prophesies have foretold." Everyone in the Small Council chambers nodded their head in solemn accord. But Lyanna spotted the nonbelievers among them. Lord Mace Tyrell, the Master of Law, was pretending along with Prince Viserys. Neither believed in their king and considered this some eccentric project of their sovereign. Some men needed to see to believe. Everyone else understood the truth, especially Baelon. He understands the most the role he shall play. "The Long Night comes and monstrous beasts with it."
"Foul tidings, your grace." Lord Mace puffed up his chest. "Highgarden stands with you during these trying times."
"The Iron Throne appreciates such fealty." Lord Connington replied gruffly.
"It is as we predicted, father." Baelon said. "My time is now. Let us send the ravens to every lord south of the wall. Give me command of the largest host ever assembled and I shall deal with the Others once and for all. It is my destiny. With Reach knights. Dornish spears. Northern savages. And every knight and men of arms worth their salt, the Long Night shall never come!" Lyannas heart swelled at the conviction in her boy's voice. Some doubt lingered. He is yet to be wed to the two other heads and winter has not come. Still, she could see it so clearly.
Prince Viserys rolled his eyes. "You couldn't lead a turnip cart."
Baelon slammed his fist down on the table. "I'm your savior, uncle! Don't question me ever again! Father has named me so and so I am!"
"My prince." Ser Arthur said gently. "Please calm yourself in the Small Council-
"I surpassed you in skill long ago." Baelon snapped. "Stay silent, ser or you shall have seen your last morning. Now hand me Dawn! I want it now!"
The Sword of the Morning flinched and obeyed, handing him the famous blade. Baelon always got what he wanted. Our savior shouldn't want for anything. Lyanna nodded with approval. Well almost everything he wanted. Rhaegar did refuse him Princess Daenerys.
"Brother." Prince Viserys sounded tired. "We cannot be considering this. The lords of the realm shall mock us."
"The signs are here, my prince." Maester Marwyn pledged.
Rhaegar's gaze hardened. "The threat remains whether the blind refuse to see it." He looked annoyed by the conversation. "I have dreamed this. I have read the ancient prophesies going back to Daenys the Dreamer, the savior of our house. Did I not foresee where Cousin Robert would hide? Or where Lord Greyjoy would strike with his fleet?" No one could deny anything he said. Not even doubting Viserys. "Yet you harbor doubt in your heart, brother?"
"You did, my king." Lord Connington said in awe. "And we shall not doubt you now. Say the command and I shall fix my seal to the parchment." All of them leaned forward as he considered it. He's tempted. Lyanna saw it in his eyes, and could see his lips move. Send the ravens Maester. Call the banners.
"I do not think this is wise, father." Prince Aegon said.
Baelon scoffed furiously. "Of course you doubt father's wisdom! You've never trusted him as I do!"
"I don't doubt the threat." Prince Aegon said. "However, perception matters. Let us find proof lords can see with their own two eyes first."
Baelon protested, but Rhaegar silenced him with a wave of his hand. "What do you propose, son?"
"Have the Lord Commander of the Nights Watch secure one of these creatures for the Royal Court." Prince Aegon's lips twirled up. "Besides, the Long Night cannot start in the middle of Summer."
"It is early." Rhaegar agreed. "Yes, my boy, clever notion." He twisted towards Maester Marwyn. "Inform Lord Commander Jeor to find proof for our lords. My brother may even believe if he beholds the truth." Rhaegar chuckled.
Lord Walter cleared his throat. "My bats bring other tidings from the North."
"Other tidings?" Lord Mace gulped.
"Lord Eddard Stark has discovered a litter of direwolf pups for his children, sou th of the wall." Lyanna's heart skipped a beat. Ned… She had not seen his long face since she was a girl of fourteen. Nor had she seen any of children with Lady Catelyn. Her family failed her, just as Rhaegar promised they would. "Your brother blames you for your brother Brandons death." "It wasn't my fault! You sent letters for me to Brandon.I don't know why he thought you kidnapped me." Lyanna wept into his chest. "I did sweet Lyanna. He didn't understand our timeless love. My poor lady, I'll never hate you. Your brothers are fools. You are blameless." Rhaegar loves me, not Ned or Benjen. Not a single raven from Winterfell ever spoke about her or the children she bore Rhaegar. They still hated her after all of those years and Lyanna had grown cold to them. I don't need any of them.
Red-haired and blue eyes. His children have red hair and blue eyes, save my niece Arya. Lord Whent told her when she asked.
"Maybe we should ship them a crate of bones." Lord Velaryon quipped. "Mutts like bones."
Baelon darkened. "First my uncle sends the bare minimum to subdue the Ironborn, and now this affront! If we cannot have dragons, then they can't have direwolves!" She saw jealousy in his eyes. Baelon hated when anyone else got something he did not. "Father, order Lord Stark to have them slain! Assert our authority over those traitors!" Her son clutched the handle of Dawn tightly. "And if they refuse, I shall whip them for you!"
Prince Viserys rolled his eyes. "And how prey tell shall we get past the Moat? Ruins it may be, but it is still formidable. Surely not by sea House Manderly have rebuilt the Starks their fleet lost by King Brandon." He had counseled for them to intervene when they began reconstruction, but Rhaegar had differed. I argued with Prince Viserys, but Rhaegar knows best. His arguments always made everything make sense. Little Benjen holds a lordship on the Westshore. Lord, Lyanna struggled to imagine Ben as a Lord of anything nether less with a wife.
"There is no obstacle, brother." Rhaegar said, amused. "We shall cross it when the day comes. I digress. We shall do no such thing Baelon. Direwolves are magical creatures. Sacred things. We shall do them no harm."
They switched to the business of political matches, and alliances between houses along with the daily responsibilities of the council. Rhaegar quickly lost interest and chatted quietly with Maester Marywn about his Grand uncles letters from the Wall. Lord Connington led the rest of the council as he normally did on anything that didn't involve the War for the Dawn. Baelon bored over counting coopers and balancing the requests of lords and ladies. He yawned.
"Tired already Baelon?" Aegon smiled.
Baelon sneered. "I'm not tired."
"Yes, I suppose you do tire easily."
Baelon twitched. Lyanna reached out for him, but he shoved her hand away. His brother was waking the dragon. "That is no way to speak to a prince."
"I agree. It's no way to speak to a true prince of the realm." The slight was clear to anyone with wits to see. Baelon reacted better than she thought and only lunged at him. "Rhaegar, stop them!" The blows were fierce and violent. "Rhaegar, do something!" He didn't stir. "Someone do something!" It was Lord Connington whom acted along with the rest of the small council who tried to pull them apart, to little avail. Baelon whimpered in pain. He was hurt, her boy was hurt. "Rhaegar, do something. Please look up." She fell before him. "Please look up!" Violet eyes glanced her way. His eyes always made her feel a girl of six name days instead of a woman grown.
Rhaegar put down his quill with an annoyed sigh. He's displeased. "Boys. Boys." His voice grew in strength. "Stop this at once." Only the heavy breathing of the combatants remained as the voice of a king commanded men. And Rhaegar always had a regal presence. Men naturally listened to him. He squeezed their shoulders. "That's better boys. Now shake hands."
Blood was streaming down her son's swollen face. "He broke my fucking nose! He made me bleed! He made the Dragon bleed!"Lyanna went to her boy, nursing his wounds as he whimpered placing his head to her breasts.
"My poor boy."
She twisted around and glowered at her husband. Rhaegars eyes always gave clues to his mood. Sometimes I misunderstand his moods.
"And you wounded poor Lord Tyrell as well, brother." Aegon told his father. His hair disheveled from the fight still looked as regal as a prince, unlike her son's dark curls. Somehow, he seemed to have gotten the better of the exchange. Baelon was holding back. He loves his brother.
Lord Tyrell was clutching his cheek as Marywn treated him. He was lucky to have survived a blow from her son. Lyanna mused.
Rhaegar placed his hand to his breast. "My apologies, my lord, on behalf of my house. Would you wish to retire? I shall not fault you, Lord Mace."
"It was an honor, my prince." Lord Mace spluttered excitedly. "To do my duty. I shall stay until you command otherwise."
"I want him punished! He insulted me father! I shall bring the Dawn and he insulted me!"
Ser Arthur, as usually looked to say something, but said nothing.
"Brother." Viserys hissed, out of breath and furious. "He is the Crown Prince."
"By will of the king." Lord Yronwood said.
"How dare you imply-" Viserys replied.
Lord Mace rose. "My lords I find-
"I SAID SHAKE HANDS!" Rhaegar roared like the dragon of his sigil and commanded the room. His eyes were unforgiving and Lyanna felt suddenly afraid.
Baelon looked at Aegon's hand like it was posion. "Shake his hand." She whispered. "Shake it now.". And the Gods heard her prayers when Baelon extended it stiffly.
"Forgive me, brother." He said. "Maybe I was tired."
"There is nothing to forgive."
Rhaegar wrapped his arms around them. "Two fierce dragons. I'm glad this pettiness is done. I need both of you unified."
"Why my love?" Lyanna asked.
"For our trip to Winterfell, of course."
"I thought-"
"Don't be dim Lyanna. Tales of Others. Direwolves south of the wall. I shall need to converse with my Warden of the North." Rhaegar spoke as if it was obvious. "Oh, and Baelon do give Arthur back his sword. I have little use for a naked knight."
Viserys
"What do you think?"
Ser Jaime squinted his eyes and picked up the canvass. "It's marvelous, my prince. A true work of art." Sarcasm was dripping from his voice.
Viserys sighed. "You are holding it upside down, ser."
"Well, it's even better this way!" Ser Jaime quipped. "Though pray tell, what is it exactly?"
"A manifestation of the glory and grandeur of my house in providing peace and stability across the Seven Kingdoms and the possibility of further progress and advancement." All the roads and civil projects promised by the Iron Throne. A new age of art and revival was possible bound to the splendor of House Targaryen. Viserys spent two years organizing crews for revitalizing the Kingsroad coordinating with the ambitious Lord Yronwood and the Office of Coin and every holdfast and lordling whom wished their section to be prioritized.
If Rhaegars delusions help the future of our family, so be it.
Jaime blinked. "You know what would be nice, my prince. A bowl of fruit. Or a self portrait. We have a lot of those in the Rock. The artists loved me." Lannister smirk. And Viserys didn't find that hard to believe. House Lannister was known for their pride and vanity.
"Everyone is a critic." Viserys chuckled. "But thank you for your honest opinion ser. A rare quality within these halls, I swear to you." Of all of his brothers famed Kingsguard it was Ser Jaime who was his favorite. He actually had the spirit to question things, and he proved good company, unlike the rest. Occasionally, his japes made him roar with laughter. Naturally, the man likely told his brother everything when asked, but at least he was interesting. Viserys even agreed to take Ser Jaimes nephew Lord Joffrey Connington as his squire. The tall blond boy looked nothing like Lord Jon, a pure Lannister like his two other siblings.
"And mine?" A high voice snarled. "How is mine, Prince Viserys? It is a gryphon snarling a stag with its talons." He said with pride.
"Oh, is that-"
Viserys silenced Ser Jaime with his elbow. "Beautiful effort Lord Joffrey." He wrapped an arm around the boy, ushering him away. No, it's not. He mouthed to Ser Jaime, who struggled to restrain his laughter. "Go get Ser Jaime and I some wine, Joffrey, and then go get into some trouble. You're young." He winked. "But not too much trouble." He said with some authority. The Connington boy nodded his head before bolting. He was a decent lad if proud, but all lords held some pride to them.
Especially us princes. We are proud men. Double the pride. Double the fall.
He spent some time japing with Ser Jaime in his apartments before he stepped outside to his balcony for a quick breath of air. Down in the courtyard below, he noted Baelon battling with Ser Arthur. "Poor Arthur." Viserys jumped lightly as Jaime snuck up on him. He must have been watching for longer than he thought. "Trying so hard to make it look competitive."
"Ser Arthur isn't trying?" Viserys asked.
"You can't tell?" Ser Jaime said, amazed. "Look how slow he's moving." Viserys tried, but it looked the same to him. "He's taking great care to make it look it convincing. Any knight like myself could see." Viserys wouldn't know. He wasn't much of a swordsman, nor a warrior. He preferred his songs and roads to swords and shields. Some days he played for the smallfolk as Rhaegar once did. It doesn't take a swordsman to see what my nephew is. Baelon was wrong in the head. A rotten egg that one, his parent spoiled him with delusions of grandeur. He tightened his grip, but held his emotions in check.
When he didn't reply, Ser Jaime continued. "Prince Baelon is a knight of white bread."
Viserys cocked a brow up.
"No one hates white bread. It's good enough. No one shall complain of a belly full of bread, but no one loves it either. It's simply fine."
"A knight of white bread." Viserys repeated understanding. "I suppose the Others must be poor swords, then." Rhaegar already knows I have doubts about him. Whatever Jaime tells him means little. His dear brother already wanted him out of the city and if wasn't for his obsession with prophecy, I would be gone to Sunspear to marry Princess Arianne. Viserys understood the offer for what it was. An exile from court in all but name.
I shall not leave so simply, Rhaegar.
He departed to visit his mother as he always did this time of day. Someone had to. Mother gripped him with a tighter embrace than her frail frame would suggest possible. "My baby boy." She looked him over as if he was a boy of ten covered in dirt. "You'll never know how happy I am to see you again." Servants provided the tea. Viserys drank greedily. It was always lovely.
"I think you are growing sick of me." Viserys winked. "Yesterday's hug was longer."
"Never my boy." Mother gazed with a scandalized look. "I pushed you through this womb for-"
He waved his hand up in surrender. "Please mother. Spare me the details. You always make me feel guilty enough."
Mother pinched his cheeks. "My squeamish boy. How anyone is frightened of you, I do not know." And it shall remain that way, mother. They spoke of Rhaenys and Aegon and how they faired. Aegon was holding court with the Hand of the King in attendance. Viserys would serve his nephew with pride the day he became king. Intelligent and charming, he promised a bright future. A future beyond Rhaegars obsessions. Rhaenys was hosting a ball in Rhaegars name and, like every ball, would be a great success. His niece was a proper little princess as kind as Queen Elia ever was. Viserys realized it had become a one sided conversation as mother looked elsewhere.
Viserys placed his tea to the side. "Mother?" He said. "Are you hale?"
"I'm sure it's nothing.." Mother sighed. "It's just your sister didn't show to our get together." She chuckled. "To be young, though. I'm sure our Dany is merely enjoying younger company than my old bones."
"You are as beautiful as ever." Viserys kissed her on the brow. "Worry not. I shall check on her."
"My sweet boy." Mother said. "And Viserys, make sure you pack a warm cloak for the North. I wouldn't wish for you to get a chill." Rhaegar did not command his presence in the Royal Party, but it was his duty to put out whatever fires they start. To keep Baelon on a short leash. The boy would have started a war if he didn't keep an eye on him.
Don't go. Let them antagonize the Northman. They'll take care of them for you.
Marry Rhaenys who shall remain behind in Kings Landing and ascend the Iron Throne.
King Viserys the Third of His Name…It toyed with him, but it was never an option. I shall not claim the Iron Throne over the bones of my family. Mother raised me better than that.
"Very well. I shall pack the heaviest cloak in my wardrobe."
Dany, his sweet sister, was truly a woman grown as beautiful as the stars. A slender frame with flawless skin as pale as milk. Many a lord aspired to wrap his cloak around her shoulders. None of them would ever be good enough in his eyes. Danys violet eyes narrowed before her slender brows raised suggestively. What? Why are you doing that? Are you rolling your hips? When do you learn that? Am I dreaming? Why would I dream this about my baby sister?
"Mother wanted-"
Lips claimed his own as she attacked him passionately. It sent thoughts through his mind. Foul thoughts. He separately her roughly. "Marry me Viz. Don't fight it. Marry me. Claim me." She whimpered as soft as the Maiden herself. He tasted the ale on her breath.
"Your drunk." He noted.
"I love you Viserys. Completely. Deeply. Make me your sister wife." Brushing against him with her smooth skin. She placed his hands over her lower back.
He waited for the joke that had to be coming. It never came.
Viserys kneeled over in laughter. "No, sweet sister. I love you as a brother, not in that way."
The seductive gaze died, and Dany wept bitterly. He tried to grip her, but she squirmed away."I hate you." She wailed. "I hate you so much." And stumbled off, balanced to the velvet couch. Her tears soaked through the cushions as he sat next to her while she sobbed and cursed.
"You don't love me Dany. You and I both know that. Why don't you tell me what this is really about?"
"He killed him- Baelon-." Sniffle. "He killed Ser Robar just for asking for my favor.." More tears fell onto his shoulder. "I didn't care for him, but he still died. I can't love anyone. They'll die. Baelon shall never leave me alone! He never listens, I say no, but he won't- I say no-" No more words could come out of his sister's mouth. A breathless panic overcame her. Viserys hated Baelon with every ounce of his heart. If he walked in front of him then, he would rip him to shreds and damn the consequences. But Viserys feared Rhaegars' reaction to the death of his precious Prince that was Promised. What would you do, brother? It sent a shiver down his spine. He knew Dany was likely right. Ser Robar had died, his throat slit and his armor stolen, but there would be no justice for him. He considered lying to her, but Viserys refused to lie to his sister.
I'm not so cursed for doing that.
"He hasn't touched you, has he?" Viserys said, fist curling.
"No." Dany shook her head. "Whatever you and Rhaegar said to him worked. But he looks. He looks Viz. I know what he wants."
Viserys calmed. "Good. Good."
"I figured if I married to you. He would stop. Baelon is afraid of you." Oh, my sweet sister, coming up with keen plans. What has court done to us both?
"Not nearly enough." Viserys whispered. "I don't want you to worry about this. Nothing shall happen as long as I live."
"How can I not worry? You do not see the possessive glare. You are not the object of his affection!"
He pressed her shivering chin up. "Show courage Dany. The blood of the conqueror flows through your veins, as it does mine. You are braver than you think."
It steadied her as she rested her head against his shoulder. "Do you think we shall get lucky and some wildling will take him?" Dany asked, smiling.
"If only Dany. If only."
Prince Baelon
Men of the Kingsguard were the greatest swords in the Realm. And his father, King Rhaegar the Wise, held the best in the history of the House of the Dragon. There was Ser Jaime Lannister, son of Lord Tywin, Ser Barristan the Bold, Ser Jonothor Darry, Ser Oswell Whent. Each with pages upon pages of deeds listed in the White Book. Once during the early reign of his father Ser Gerold Hightower dawned the white cloak before he grew feeble and shat himself to death. They granted him an honor too high for a servant and interned his foul smelling body by the Iron Throne. As father knows, the Hightowers are students of old magic in their Tower. One day, we shall drag Lord Leyton out and force him to reveal his secrets to our line. Uncle Viserys claimed they should honor him for his valiant service. Baelon scoffed at his idiot uncle's ludicrous notions. What valor did he show servants didn't owe their glorious house? The man died shitting. Worse, his stupid brother Crown Prince Aegon agreed with him and his silver tongue swayed father. Aegon was swayed by the fools of court so easily. He lacked strength. Mother is right about his character. A weak snake unworthy of the Iron Throne. His family was honestly quite useless without him. Honoring weaklings unworthy of protecting his father. However, of all the Kingsguard, it was Ser Arthur, the Sword of the Morning, who shined the brightest. He wielded Dawn a milky white blade. It cut sharp as Valyrian steel.
It was Dawn that cut down Robert Baratheon at the Stoney Sept. Fools claimed it saved House Targaryen. Baelon knew his father's reign was never in any danger. Their line was the line of the Dragons and dragons wouldn't be killed by mere Baratheons. Still, it saved farther the slight exertion it would have required to swat down that overlarge fly.
Father was far too merciful in sending Stannis Baratheon and his brother to the Wall. Baelon would have wiped down their line root and stem along with every rebel house whom defied the Iron Throne. His grandfather was a respectable king whom was beyond reproach from the bootlickers. Maybe he would have spared the Starks his mothers family if they groveled nicely before their betters. Even if they were stupid for being upset by father marrying mother.
They should thank their gods the Crown Prince even noticed her. It was an honor to bear the children of a prince. It shamed him he shared blood with them. My line is of Old Valyria and should not be sullied with inferior blood.
Baelon narrowed his grey eyes at his opponent. Dressed in the snowy white of the Kingsguard advanced slowly. Ugly black eyes grew fearful when their steel kissed in the courtyard. Practice swords. Baelon scowled still at the thought of using such childish weapons, especially with father watching in the distance. He parried the sluggish slash easily and struck back with a storm of steel. All of court watched his glory. Baelon noted his whore of a sister. Hide behind all the clothes you want Rhaenys, I know you're a whore. She looked and smelled Dornish like the slut that birthed her. Anyone from Dorne was a whore. Dany looked beautiful as always, with pure Valyrian features. Yet, behind her beauty, she looked sloppy. Hidden under the walls of makeup were puffy cheeks where she wept. Still mourn your lover?
She should thank me. Baelon smirked. He was wasted on you. You deserve better stock.
He smacked his foe to the dirt. Sweat streaming down his face. "I yield." Ser Borros declared. But Baelon pretended not to hear and kept on striking with all his strength, enjoying the fear in his eyes. You woke the dragon! I am the dragon! And the ugly frog knight bled.
"My prince, he has yielded." Ser Arthur grabbed his arm in mid-swing.
Baelon almost cursed at the gentle command in his voice. No one commands me save father! But he would show leniency this once. He was a good servant, and they were hard to find. "My victory I grant to you, father." Baelon bowed.
Father clapped, and the court clapped with their king. "A fine show! A fine show, stay kneeling, my son. Tis time we have a new Dragonknight in our family." Baelon almost rolled his eyes. I was better than the Dragonknight years ago, but not even father was perfect. Father's voice rang out over the courtyard.
"I name my son Baelon Targaryen a Dragonknight for his skill of arms and valor!" Cool castle kissed his shoulder. "Arise Baelon! Arise the sword of our house. The Prince who was Promised."
"Long live Prince Baelon!"
"Long live Prince Baelon!"
Baelon basked in their admiration.
The flames flickered in his room as the candle burned late into the night. He still heard the faint chants of the crowd echoing his ears. Old parchment from Oldtown between his fingers. He had translated the primitive language of the first men to Valryian. The text dated from the Age of Heroes. Every society, it seemed, had a slightly original version of the Prince that was Promised. And Baelon was determined to fulfill his destiny. A dozen tongues he could speak and write to decipher the secrets of the world. The histories from the gutless maesters had given him many clues. It was a puzzle that only he could solve. Baelon discovered the magic in the blood of House Whent. It was said they controlled bats. How else did Robert Whent gather information so quickly? Even if the man denied it under strict interrogation. I know the truth. Baelon winced in pain, his face still fucking hurt where Aegon punched him. I let him do that. No one can best me. I'm unbeatable.
I shall bring back the dragons and the secrets that made Old Valyria the strongest Empire in the history of man. A New Valyria shall be born here.
"You look like shit." An impertinent voice came from the shadows. "Shouldn't you be celebrating your new found title? We could torment the Greyjoy boy." And the notion did amuse him. "Better than spending your night by dusty scrolls."
"You are being insolent ser. I am a prince."
"I am the night." Ser Gerold Dayne said.
Baelon chuckled. "A bold knight tis true." Father had his Sword of the Morning, but he had a Sword of the Night. One Day Ser Gerold would replace Ser Arthur when he grew old and infirm. "But even the girlish screams of Theon Greyjoy wouldn't amuse me this night. Or the finest whore from Lys."
Ser Gerold leaned against the red walls, arms crossed. "And these dusty scrolls provide more enjoyment than a womans screams?"
"Yes." Baelon replied sullenly.
"And if that woman was Princess Daenerys?"
"Pushing your luck today aren't we?" He scowled. It was the one thing his father denied him. "You shall wed your sister, not your aunt, my boy. It is my command. Defy me, Baelon, and I shall punish you beyond your imagination." He imagined her naked, screaming his name as he fucked her. No matter what she wore, he undressed her with his eyes. She held a pure Valyrian lineage and would not be spoiled by one of those lesser lords. And those animals looked at her with lust.
She is the finest wine, and only I shall drink from that cup.
"Well, I did dispose of her little pet for you."
Baelon grinned. "You did well and I rewarded you for it."
You are mine Dany; I own you. And she wanted him, despite her protests. No woman would ever refuse him. I'm the Prince that was Promised. Though he would do as his mother wished and would marry his sisters when they bled. He would have three wives. I'm better than Aegon the Conqueror, I deserve it.
"Besides, you are about to head up North. Heard the Northern whores are cold as ice."
"I have cousins." Baelon said. "They could prove good bedwarmers if they would be so lucky." Maybe he would make their Lord Father watch as he despoiled his daughters. I can do whatever the fuck I want. I'm saving every one of them, anyway. Ungrateful shits. He needed to get out of this city and all the compromises and wheeling and dealing. It was irksome.
None of it matters anyway. I will make my legacy in the War for the Dawn, not whatever lord needs his ass kissed.
"I could repay who shattered your nose with–"
Baelon shoved him to the wall, his temper upon him.
"Touch my blood and I'll kill you!" Gerold went red as he unleashed the dragon. "Kinslaying is the only thing the Gods give a shit about." He dropped him to the floor, wheezing. "Aegon will lose his crown before this is done. Once I win the war for the Dawn, they shall name me king."
And not even Uncle Viserys could stop him.
Authors note: I decided to take a crack at a Rhaegar Wins world for some fun. Jon here is very much not canon Jon Snow. I felt a guy raised by prophesy obsessed parents, one being a groomed teenage mom likely would not be Ser Heroic Prince coming to save the day. Instead he would be more Joffreyesque. I also felt Viserys in a stable environment raised mainly by his Rhaella would be far better off than in cannon. For some strange reason people always seem to make him into some bully or Aerys II reborn. This Vizzy T likes his family and roads. Plus he likes to paint.
I don't know how frequent my updates are going to be, but I'll certainly play around in this sandbox some more. It was a lot of fun writing a more bratty Jon Snow.