Baelon
The stoned keep formed an ugly blotch on the dreary cold landscape. Its stout towers sprouted around the sturdy walls. The stone was laid by expert craftsmen under the command of the Nights Watch. By will and command of his kingly father Crasters Keep had been transformed into an almost passable outpost Beyond the Wall.
With the same stroke of a quill, Craster was transformed into a lord and placed under his father's protection. Lord Craster greeted him in the courtyard with rotting brown teeth and ancient dim eyes. The worn-out cloak he wore looked no better than a series of rags. At least he dresses like the animal he is. To the right of Lord Craster, Ser Waymar Royce of the Nights Watch stood stalwart. Several brothers of the Nights Watch had been assigned the posting in charge of Craster Keeps defense. A thankless job for green recruits or enemies of the Lord Commander. Behind him the banner of House Targaryen flew proudly alongside that of the Nights Watch, but it was his personal banner that flew highest carried by Ser Edmund Moonton. A flaming sword piercing a maiden's heart over a black field as dark as midnight.
A symbol of my greatness and my destiny
They had assembled the entire household in the courtyard when they rode through the gates. Lord Craster paraded before him an army of ugly women more plain than common mutts found in the gutters of Flea Bottom. They looked even more worn out than the clothes they wore; bruised cheeks and dead eyes. Craster practiced incest as if he were of Valyrian stock. Do you think you are us worm? You have nothing of value in those putrid veins of yours. Not an ounce of magical blood.
Father forbids his death. Baelon nearly sneered. The tone in his fathers voice told him it was not a line he could cross without consequence.
He didn't say anything about punishing him. Baelon almost smiled.
"Accept the salt and bread of Crasters Keep Prince Baelon." The old fool opened his wormy mouth.
Baelon dismounted with perfect grace, handing the reins to his squire. "And why would I do that?" Ser Gerold and Ser Justin dismounted as well, along with his entire party. Men under his command. Far more than the meagre black brothers assigned to protect his lordship.
Do you think you are in control, Lord Craster? The thought amused him.
Old Craster's cheeks reddened. "These are my halls. I shall not grant you entry without-" He slammed his fist into the old shits flat nose and watched as the man dropped like a bag of pots.
"I am the Savior of Ice and Fire." Baelon replied. "Do not presume to command me." He stretched his fingers and cracked his knuckles. "Seize Lord Craster on account of his crimes of incest and polygamy. Nineteen daughters he claims to have wedded. He shall suffer nineteen lashes, one for each daughter."
Ser Waymar looked alarmed. "The Lord Commander assigned us to his protection." And stepped in between him and his prey. Three of the black brothers behind Ser Waymar drifted to their swords, before paling at the sight of those opposing them.
"The Lord Commander isn't here. Do you wish to die for him?"
"I am a man of the Nights Watch." Ser Waymar said solemnly. "I swore my vow."
Baelon chuckled. "You seem familiar, ser." He smiled, remembering. "Ah yes, I knew your brother." The sheep fucker.
"Knew my prince?"
"Yes. Ser Robar rests with his forefathers. Seven bless his soul."
He shouldn't have given Dany that flower. Dany was his property to do with as he pleased. Baelon hardened, thinking of her. It would be a sweet dish to taste from when he took her maidenhead.
"Stand aside ser," Baelon decided to play along. "In the name of the blessed Seven, who are One."
Ser Jarmen Beesbury shifted forward wearing the black cloak of the Nights Watch. "Ser Waymar, this is a command from the kings own son, anointed The Blessed by the High Septon. Stand down."
Baelon didn't care if he stepped aside or not. Anyone who stood in his way was his enemy.
The sheep fucker wisely stepped aside and Justin Massey dragged Craster before him. Lucerys scrambled to hand him his whip as a crowd of eyes watched. Baelon carried out his justice. When he was done, the Nights Watchmen carried a moaning Lord Craster back into the halls smearing a trail of crimson on the snow.
Don't you ever think you're like my bloodline. You're nothing compared to us.
Baelon retired to Lord Craster's personal quarters for the evening. It was the best this holdfast could offer him. The room reeked of his foul stench. He burned the bed sheets and laid his own over the feather bed. His bed sheets were free of lice and the scent of the degenerate First Men. First Men smelled worse than the Dornish.
Outside, the frosty air made lesser men lose fingers or noses to icy kisses as the moon watched. Baelon never suffered from the cold. Dragons don't get cold. He lit several candles and traced his finger over the map of Beyond the Wall and studied the path. He read until his eyes grew heavy…
"You are searching for me." A raven squawked amid a sea of snow and twisting branches. A dreamlike world of shadows, like some oiled painting. "You never should have ventured Beyond the Wall. This is my domain, boy."
"I'm no boy. I am your prince."Laughter rang out from every direction. It made his face burn red hot."DON'T LAUGH AT ME! IM THE PRINCE WHO WAS PROMISED!" He flung a rock, and it missed the raven by a foot as the laughter grew louder and louder and he fell to his knees clutching his ears."I'll make you regret this! When I find you, I shall whip you!" Baelon screamed. "Reveal yourself Bloodraven! Yes, I know who you are." He smirked. "You can't fool me." The laughter ended, cowed in fear of him and his glory.A cold, bony hand wrapped around his shoulder as roots wrapped around his legs. Baelon struggled to no avail. "The Haunted Forrest." His voice whispered with a foul, decaying breath. "Come to me, Prince Baelon, if you dare, and we shall see.""See what?" Baelon seethed with his hand stretched out, trying to squeeze the life out of him."If you are as disappointing as you look."
Baelon woke to in a room of darkness. The candles had gone out. The scratches from the flock of ravens long since healed burned.
You made a fool of me. I shall kill you for that!
The Haunted Forrest? Bloodraven claimed. He almost rolled his eye. It was nothing more than some trick. The old man was afraid of him and was trying to escape his net. Unlike Daemon Blackfyre he wasn't so easily deceived.
And he marked off the Haunted Forrest. Thank you for making my search easier.
Father told you to only search for the wight.
His father bade him to capture a wight to prove to the grubby mud people the truth that the Long Night was upon them, but it was the three eyed raven he sought. Something in his chest squirmed. What did it matter? The wight was already as good as caught such a task was fit only for a child. Not the Savior of Ice and Fire. Bloodraven is the quandary he needed.
The man was old and feeble, far past his prime, but he would squeeze every ounce of knowledge and power out of that albino.
"My prince." Ser Arthur had let himself in. "I need words with you."
"Then say them." Baelon mumbled, refusing to even spare him a glance.
"I didn't wish to rebuke you infront of the men, but His Grace gave express-"
"I don't give a shit." Baelon turned. "He's not here. Now is he?" His tone of voice struck the Sword of the Morning like a whip. It amazed Baelon that he once looked up to the man. A misjudgement. I don't make mistakes. Father only sent him to keep an eye on him or mayhaps the simpering tears of his mother had moved the good knight? Ser Arthur had a weakness when it came to his mother always offering kind smiles and soft words of protest when father rebuked mother for her childishness. Only soft shits were moved by the tears of lesser creatures like women.
Ser Arthur, for all his talents with a blade, still acted an Andal knight.
"My prince. You must not speak such treason." He warned. "What if someone heard you? It would displease your father."
Baelon bristled. "I'm not afraid."
Ser Arthur said nothing, but his eyes spoke the truth.
"I don't need to convince you of my courage." Baelon said curtly as his hands shook from a sudden chill in the room. "Now tell me why you are really here, ser?" And it wasn't to berate him about his justice in the courtyard.
For a moment, he held a look of sadness.
"My prince, it's been weeks trekking in the cold without the sight of women. He paused. "I fear we may have some rapes if discipline isn't maintained."
Rapes? That wouldn't do. Baelon thought. It was a good thing that Ser Arthur came and brought this to his attention. "I shall speak with Commander Beesbury." He vowed.
"It is the right thing, my prince." Ser Arthur said.
Baelon nodded. "I shall make sure our brave Nights Watchmen aren't punished for having some fun with those whores." He chuckled. "They aren't getting much, though." Flat chested bitches with bony chicken legs, but he supposed what lay between their legs worked well enough.
Ser Arthur looked aghast. "That is monstrous, my prince."
It was amusing that he seemed so troubled by it. "They are abominations ser." He snorted. "You can't rape abominations." And they were a mockery to his House. Only the House of Dragon could practice incest. Their mere presence offended him. "Besides, I'm sure any so named rape they asked for it." When he enacted his justice in the streets of Kings Landing, he always had his men wash those harlots who cried rape with lye until they wept. Most women cried rape, but were dressed in skimpy clothes or rags that scarcely covered their skin. Is it shocking that men wanted to have their way with them? And when questioned sharply, they always confessed they enjoyed themselves like the weak-willed creatures they were. Father told him that women were made to pleasure a prince or bare his children.
"You may humor a woman, my son, as I humor your mother, but no one is our equal." Father offered a small smile. "Not Aegon. Not Rhaenys. Not Viserys. Not even your mother. We are special agents of destiny, you and I." He paused. "I know you told her what we did in the tunnels."
"I didn't!" Baelon protested."Oh, my son. Don't lie to me. It's beneath a prince to lie to his sire."He turned mute and looked at his shoes."And what did she tell you, my boy?"He said nothing"What did she tell you, Baelon?" Father tilted his chin up."That I was confused."Father patted his shoulder. "That's right, my boy. Cause your mother is easily fooled. You can say whatever you wish to her and she'll never believe you if I say otherwise." And mother never disagreed with father in any matter. She obeyed him in everything, no matter how stupid it made her look. Not even when Baelon complained about the things father made him do would she stand up to him. Of course, it was for the best. Her womanly weakness would have prevented him from achieving his destiny as the Savior of Ice and Fire. "Everyone is made to serve you, my sweet boy, as we all serve Rhaegar. Your father was simply making you strong. He always does the right thing.""But he made me-""It doesn't matter Baelon."Mother wiped away his tears. "Don't cry, my little boy. Whatever you need is yours. Anything for a perfect child. You shall bring the Dawn." And he was perfect. The Savior of Ice and Fire.
Ser Arthur nodded in understanding. "With all due respect, your grace, the girls would be very grateful to your benevolence."
Baelon scoffed. "They should already be grateful towards me. I am their savior."
"Tis true." Ser Arthur agreed quickly. "But they could offer something in return."
Baelon laughed. "What could they possibly have I could want? Were you hit in the yard this morn ser?" His father's knight must have finally lost his mind. The only value a woman held was between her legs and he wouldn't debase himself with such lowly blood.
"Don't you wish Lord Craster to stop breathing?"
The notion made him smile. Ser Arthur actually impressed him. If one of Crasters wifes did it, father could hardly blame me for it? Now could he? He brought his hand to his chin and pondered it some more. "And you think a mere woman could do this for me?" Women were timid creatures by nature.
"Without a doubt."
Baelon interlocked his hands behind him. "Very well. I shall protect these women. Any man who accosts them shall awaken the dragon." He turned to his fathers knight with a raised finger. "But if Lord Craster still breathes when we return, I shall have them stripped of their clothes and given to every man in our host like the whores they are." And with that, he dismissed Ser Arthur and went to sleep.
Banners flapped in the wind as they rose onward into the Skirling Pass, the comfort of Crasters Keep a distant memory. The bloodied maiden stood proudly with the three-headed dragon. The path was a long twisted course between mountain peaks and hidden valleys. Not a single blade of grass in the hellish icy landscape. Ahead of the host scouts and outriders under Ser Lyman Darry flanked them for wildings. As if they would bother any of them. There was nothing for miles around them, but ice and some shadowcats prowling in the shadows picking off the occasional straggler.
"Woah, woah girl." Lucerys cried out before shooting forward in a sudden burst. The idiot boy was still a pathetic horseman, despite his instruction. It reflected poorly on him and his greatness.
Ser Arthur rode after him.
"Your squire might snap his neck." Darkstar mused.
He rolled his eyes. "So? I can get another one."
Darkstar chuckled. "We would be without our entertainment. You brood enough as it is."
"I'm sure we could find other ways to amuse ourselves."
There were always queer weaklings to mock and play with it like Greyjoy back in Kings Landing. If only Greyjoy were with them, that would be fun. Theon cried like a little girl when he saw him. A couple of times, he even made him piss himself when he glanced his way. Weak squid.
"It's quiet." Darkstar admitted. "Are you sure there are Wildlings left?"
"There are no Wildlings out here. They have seen my banner and have fled."
His reputation was known even in this backwater. They cowered back to their villages and he would have to tear through them whipping them apart until those savages revealed the wights or the locations of Bloodravens lair. Someone somewhere knew something. Cautious greybeards like Ser Elyn Crane thought they stalked them, but the man pissed at his own shadow. Or simpering idiots like Ser Owen Fossoway, who whimpered at the quick pace. "My prince, this forced march is hard on the pack animals and the wildfire." Sweat dripped down his ugly sideburns. "If a single pot goes off, it'll ignite amongst our supplies."
"Nothing is going to ignite. I have dreamed this," He lied."Surely-""The Savior of Ice and Fire has dreamed it!" Ser Justin declared zealously.
A loud cheer rang out for him.
"We have spoken enough about this." His look cut him down to nothing and left Ser Owen squirming like a floppy fish.
Idiot. At least most of them followed his superior leadership without question. They obeyed his commands like a bunch of good little mud people.
They needed the Wildfire to burn the undead when they met the hordes. And he wasn't going to transport the wildfire next to himself. He wasn't simpleminded. Though he wished Ser Elyn was correct that the wildings stalked them.
It was tedious having to hunt the savages down to their shitty little dwellings.
"A pity I haven't killed a man in some time." Darkstar said. "I'm rusting away."
"You'll bloody yourself soon enough, my friend."
Ser Arthur returned then with his wayward squire. "I believe you lost something, my prince." He quipped.
Baelon nodded in thanks.
The boy offered his apologies, stammering like a virgin girl.
He clasped him on his neck. "You have Valyrian blood in you, Lucerys. Don't you fucking humiliate yourself like that again."
"I swear my prince, I swear." Lucerys was beat red.
"Good lad." And ruffled his hair. "I know-"
Horns blared from every direction as hundreds of figures tumbled down the mountain sides, yelling battle cries. A Nights Watchman dropped from a stray arrow to the throat. Baelon drew his sword before they were upon them and smiled.
He didn't have to find the Wildlings after all.
Ser Arthur
Dawn cut a path through flesh and bone. Nothing else mattered as he fell into the dance he loved. Men attacked him with courage and blind rage and he sent every last one to the frozen ground with all the others that had tried over the years. The Smiling Knight. Robert Baratheon. Lords. Knights. Outlaws. None could withstand Dawn in the hands of the Sword of the Morning. Underneath his helm, Arthur smiled.
Baelon. I need to find Lyannas boy.
I have to protect her son.Where are you, Baelon? He looked around frantically, trying to find him amid the inferno of steel and death. A bearded wildling snapped him out of his stupor when he nearly took his head with a wide swing of his axe. Arthur needed to stay focused. He would be no good to Baelon dead.
He sent the wildling to meet the Stranger.
He had gotten separated in the chaos of fighting when the boy charged with reckless courage. As if he were untouchable to swords or axes. "You can save who you wish, Arthur." Rhaegar had promised him. "My gift to you." Rhaegar didn't understand why he cared for saving lives. The lives of the innocent meant nothing to him. All of them were pieces he moved on his board or actors in his play. I know how he thinks. He preys upon human emotion and twists you into doing what he needed from you. Then, when you realize what has happened, you're stuck with him or you'll lose everything. I shall always be his knight until the day I die.
The Sword of the Morning and the Bard King. Arthur knew. Rhaegar sang of his deeds in court and sent out singers across the realm to do likewise. Every boy in the realm knew his name and his exploits. It was everything he ever wanted, and it tasted bitter on his lip. Yet he dared not part from it. Playing the knight is all I have left. "Carry my favor on this expedition, good ser. Your Rhaegars most trusted knight." Queen Lyanna said cheerfully. "And between us, you're my favorite, too." Her cheeks reddened from the cold. "I'm not worthy of your esteem."He could scarcely look her in the eyes. She should not look at him like that with friendship and kindness when he had helped ruin her life. "Ever modest Arthur." She placed the purple ribbon in his hands and closed them. "Tis no request, but a command." Her grey eyes shined with mischief. "You would never refuse my command now, would you?"She knew the answer before he ever said."Never Lyanna. Never."For a long moment, they said nothing. Her eyes lingered on him. "If I wasn't Queen, I would have ridden with you. I would have protected you from a Wildling axe." Her eyes gazed with concern.Arthur smiled. "You have a brave heart, Lyanna. Never forget that."
Queen Lyannas ribbon remained in his pocket, and it almost made him feel worthy again.
Swords clanged around him as men cried out in pain and fury. The air reeked of piss and death. Horses wailed and collapsed to spears and arrows, adding their screams to their own. Arthur saw Lord Lucerys, Baelons squire sprawled on the ground hand outreached. His attacker drew an axe back.
Arthur split him upward from groin to sternum, his corpse falling on top of the lad.
"Stay down, boy." Arthur commanded. This battle was no place for squires.
Knights were sworn to defend the weak and the helpless. I hope I saved his life.
In the distance, amid the carnage upon the embankment of snow, she stood tall, watching him with haunting violet eyes. You never saved me. It made his mouth dry as his heart pounded in his chest like a drum. I didn't know Ash. I thought you were doing better. I didn't know the shadow returned to your heart. His ears twitched as he heard the clattering of bones. An axe would have embedded in his shoulder if he didn't sidestep the blow.
"Your good for a crow. You've killed many men."
"Then yield ser," Arthur offered. "Or prepare to join them."
"Ha! I shall add your bones to my own!"
The Lord of Bones who challenged him was a skilled fighter, but he had faced better and in six blows, his head was rolling from his body. His death seemed to mark the high tide of the battle as the Wildlings broke against their numbers and steel weapons. Arthur surveyed the scene and the carnage of battle. He heard the war horns echoing along the icy peaks as a dozen Nights Watchmen riders pursed the Wildlings into the mountains. Then a bright green light overwhelmed his eyes and a loud thunderous boom sent him to the ground as everything exploded in green.
He stood up half dazed, his nostrils burned from the smell of burning flesh.
Horses and men flailed their arms and tried to extinguish the flames in the snow, but they only burned. It cooked them in leather mail or in steel plate. Fear pierced his breast at Baelons fate as he stared at burned remains of friend and foe alike. Would he even recognized him? No, I didn't fail him. No, I didn't fail them. He stumbled among the survivors and found a familiar face with his cousin.
Cousin Gerold was busy wiping his crimson blade on the snow. "I see the Sword of the Morning endured once more." It was hardly subtle the tone of resentment, but he had little time for that.
"Prince Baelon?" Arthur asked cooly.
He shrugged. "No idea. We got separated." And tried to walk away. Arthur seized his arm.
"Then help me find him." His tone broke no argument.
Cousin Gerold sighed. "As you wish."
The longer they searched among the survivors and the dead fear grew in his breast. The battle was grim. Hundreds were dead or wounded. Commander Beesbury among them. Wildfire burned most of their supply trains in the explosion. Wounded men would have to be left behind they lacked the carts to carry them. The expedition needed to return to Crasters Keep. They couldn't press on into the Skirling Pass. Arthur had begged Rhaegar to prevent the transport of the wildfire. "Baelon dreamed he needed wildfire. Thus my son shall have it!" And he could only obey. He imagined Lyannas sobs when he delivered the news. They had taken too much from her. He could not have lost her son as well it would break her. No, he's alive. Arthur shook his head. He refused to believe otherwise. For hours, they searched among the battlefield. They found Ser Justin Massey clutching his right ear in his hand, his knees sunk into the snow. "Ser Justin, have you seen Prince Baelon?"
Ser Justin lifted his hand slowly towards the cliff with a dead look in his eyes.
"Prince Baelon is dead."
Baelon
The burly wildling lost his arm when he removed it with castle steel and finished him off with a slash across the chest. "Father!" A voice screamed in anguish. He twirled around covered in the blood of friends and foes alike and met a savage blow that actually winded him and left him reeling. How could a fucking savage wind me? He slashed harder and fell into a bloodlust and reunited son, with father jamming his sword through his soft fleshy throat. A river of blood spluttered out as another line extinguished before his glorious destiny. Nothing could stand before him and his march to save the world. Sweat froze on his skin as Wildings, Watchmen, and his banners died around him. In the chaos of battle, Ser Arthur and Darkstar got separated from his side. Baelon didn't know if they lived.
It didn't matter.
He fought.
He killed.
He grew tired.
I'm not tired. He was the Prince who was Promised. And these are nobodies compared to the Others. They couldn't possibly tire Baelon. He bested the likes of Ser Arthur Dayne and Jaime Lannister with one hand tied behind his back. A prince would never be tired by these gnats. He remembered every lesson from the Red Keep, where the finest knights in the realm taught him everything he needed to learn. Baelon followed his instincts that was superior to any warrior in the Seven Kingdoms.
"SAVE ME PRINCE BAELON! SAVE ME!" The fat lard named Sam was hysterical, wailing his arms around. It was a miracle he was still alive.
A flight of arrows came his way, and the pig proved a handy shield. The arrows found their mark in a solid grouping as he pressed the fat fucks corpse forward before flinging him to the side like the useless trash it was. Sam Tarly was a waste of space, but he served his purpose in the War for the Dawn. The Gods had given him life so he could die here for him. A special destiny than most gnats.
Horses kicked up snow and rock and slammed into the wave of humanity with spears and swords. Wildlings flung arrows into the mass of humanity. Baelon gutted a bald Wilding before a sharp stab of pain shot through his ankle. "Fuck." He cried out and lost his balance from a throbbing pain. Tears formed in his eyes. Baelon found the root cause a fucking arrow pierced straight through armor skin and muscle. How dare one of those fucking savages pierce his sacred body.
I'm the Savior of all men.
It woke the dragon, and the pain fled from his mind.
The slender man didn't have another moment to notch another arrow before he was upon him. However, he wouldn't stand still as he slashed, half mad with rage. "STAY STILL!" The cloak fell back and revealed the red-haired bitch who dared to make him bleed. It was not even a man who did it. A fucking bitch shot him and she would pay for it with her lifeblood! He chased her to the edge of the cliff as his foe stumbled onto the icy floor, finally at his mercy. A simple thrust and the matter would be over. He savored the defiant look in her that would fade into nothing at his hand. Then the world exploded around him in green flames, knocking him to the snowy floor. Suddenly, the ground gave way and Baelon tumbled down the cliff side with the cunt until he slammed into a tree with a painful thud. Every breath was pain as his fingers wrapped around long red hair in a tight fist.
His blade loomed in the distance, and he reached for it. A hot knife of pain tore through him as she shoved her fingers into his wounds, pressing into the mangled flesh. His screams echoed, and she broke free, squirming for the sword.
Baelon grabbed her leg and yanked her back. She gave a solid kick in his face that succeeded only in angering him. He mounted her and wrapped his hands around her pale throat. He wanted to kill her badly, but she might have some use to him. Some knowledge to fulfill his destiny. "If you want to live you're going to tell me what I fucking want to know." He said, out of breath and furious at her defiance. "Nod if you understand?"
She nodded.
"The undead, have you seen them?"
"Why yes ser crow I've seen them."
"I'm not a Nights Watchmen. I am a Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. Prince Baelon Targaryen." He expected some deference and reverence in her blue eyes at the reveal not a sudden gasp of laughter. She was supposed to be begging him for the privilege of kissing his boot, not mocking him.
Baelon stiffened. "You make light of me? I am the Savior of all mankind. I shall defeat the Others." And that only increased the bout of laughter. It reminded him of Aegon and all of those doubters of his special destiny. Baelon always knew his life was special. He darkened in rage.
"You?" The girl was hysterical.
"Yes, me." He scowled.
"Didn't save you from an arrow though, did it mi prince? Should Saviors bleed?"
He tightened his hand around her throat. "Funny girl." And choked some sense into her until she gazed at him with some fear.
"Where is Bloodravens lair?"
"I know where it is." He tightened his grip. "I can take you." His eyes narrowed as tight as arrow slits as he studied her.
"Don't lie to me, that wouldn't be-"
The trees and snowy landscape swirled around him as a sudden spasm of pain erupted from his temple. A sharp blow from a rock as the girl ran off. The frustration and the pain demanded a release at the humiliation. He roared like a dragon and slammed his arms into the snow. She escaped him. A fucking primitive savage had evaded his justice and made him look like a fool. If anyone discovered this, men would mock him. Baelon hoped the Others got her. Maybe she would starve or get eaten by a shadowcat? He wanted her end to be long and terrible.
I'm the Savior of Ice and Fire!
Wildlings made you bleed, another voice said. If some Wildling girl wounded me, how would I defeat the Great Other?Only a scratch. Baelon reminded himself.
The wound wasn't that bad, and the Gods would punish her for it. He cursed himself for entertaining any doubt.
I'm the Savior
I'm the SaviorI'm the SaviorBaelon repeated the mantra and climbed up, dragging his bloodied foot up the icy wall.
Ser Arthur
"Prince Baelon is dead." The words of Ser Justin cut into him worse than Dawn. "He went over. No one could survive that fall." It didn't seem possible that Prince Baelon was dead.
Cousin Gerold ventured over the edge and kicked some snow over. "Steep fall."
"Are you sure you saw Prince Baelon fall over the edge?" Arthur asked.
"Yes!" Ser Justin shivered. "I know what my prince looks like. The ground gave way." Arthur heard no deceit in Ser Justin Masseys voice, and the man had told him everything he could. Arthur knew he would certainly die if they did not bring him back to camp to sit by a fire. He sent Gerold and Ser Justin back to camp while he looked around for any signs of Prince Baelon and told Gerold to send a party of men to join him in his search. There was no body and there was hope until they found one.
He's not gone.
He couldn't be.Arthur wandered along the edge, looking for a way to get down safely as the chilly breeze stabbed him with a thousand icy kisses. The heat of battle had faded, and he was cold. He yearned for a fire, but he wasn't leaving his prince out here alone. There was still some daylight out and he needed to be out here searching. "I swear I shall be a good student. I'll be the best!" Baelon's high childish voice promised. "I shall be better than Aemon the Dragonknight. I'm going to save everyone, just like mother and father said." And gave a playful slash with a wooden sword.He chuckled. "I'm sure you will, my prince. We shall take it one day at a time.""I'm the Savior of Ice and Fire, though! You'll see how special I am! I'll prove it to you."Arthur stopped and swallowed something. He was a sweet child once. But none of them stood a chance to Rhaegar. You wanted him to turn out like this. You wanted this. Why? He never understood Rhaegars reasons for making the boy like this. Twisting and breaking that sweet boy into the cruel and callous prince he became. The boy never would have spoken about Crasters daughters like that. He would have named him a villain. Rhaegar broke Baelon as he broke all of his children and siblings to fulfill the roles he desired them to fill. Baelon is exactly what Rhaegar desired in his Prince who was Promised. He had seen something in his visions and he would make it real. No one was permitted to get in his way or they would face the Kings wrath. Once he had made the mistake of reprimanding Baelon for attacking his opponent after he yielded. Later in the Kings Tower, he was summoned to his solar. "Arthur, I don't need a knight for a savior. It won't do." His voice was songlike, but he saw the anger in his calm violet eyes. "Am I understood?" Maybe there was something Arthur failed to see in the grand plan? Rhaegar saw the impossible and always came out on top. There was power in Rhaegars visions and dreams. A terrible and great power. The plan Rhaegar followed no matter how monstrous would work in bringing the Dawn. Hundreds of thousands may die, but the realm would survive.
Rhaegar never failed.
Baelon turned out better, given the things Rhaegar told him. Maybe there was still a chance he could grow out of it? A son is not the father, and he was Lyannas son as well. A sweet dream he hung onto. If it mattered at all. The sun was setting on the horizon and if the fall didn't kill him. The cold certainly would.
"Every Hero needs to suffer a setback." Rhaegar told him.But how could a hero recover from his death?
Arthur knew he needed to turn back, but his feet were rotted in place. I'm not going back without him. He couldn't. Maybe he should take the easy way out like Ashara did? He wouldn't feel much if he jumped. Air kissing his cheek and then nothing. It would be easier than hearing Lyannas anguished screams.
But he owed her that much.
Then he saw the figure marching up a slope in the distance and his eyes widened and he felt like laughing. Dark brown hair with grey eyes. My Prince is alive! As he grew closer, he noticed him limping.
"Prince Baelon, let me-"
"Don't touch me. I can walk ser. It's barely a wound. Tell me of our losses. Is Ser Darry dead? If not, I'll kill him myself. Fucker was sleeping on the job." And you told everyone they wouldn't dare attack us.
Arthur nodded and followed along, walking a slow pace. "I know not my prince of Ser Darry." He admitted. "but our losses have been severe. Mayhaps a third wounded or dead? Preparations are being made for our return to Crasters Keep."
Baelon darkened. "Weaklings! We shall not march back in defeat! We will not return to Crasters Keep until I say so. I will whip anyone who wishes otherwise."
"My prince, we cannot go forward into the pass. Our supplies shall not support us," Arthur replied without thinking. He knew better. Tell Baelon he couldn't do something and he would certainly do it. Fool!
"I will not return to my father in failure." He said. "You may wish to be known as a failure, Ser Arthur, but not me. We shall press forward. It's a matter of a will and perseverance."
"It would only be to get new supplies." Arthur offered reasonably. "Once resupplied, we could make the journey up Skirling Pass."
Baelon stopped and sneered. "This is some test of my fathers isn't it?" His Stark eyes narrowed in suspicion.
Arthur swore otherwise, but Baelon didn't hear a word he said, blinded by his paranoia.
"My resolve remains strong. I will secure that wight. I will not turn back!" He seethed. "Do you understand? I know what my father wants. You cannot fool me." Behind the rage, he heard the fear in his voice. Oh Baelon, he wanted you to fail. "I've always known what he wants. I know what my destiny is." And jabbed him in the chest with his finger. "So you can stop speaking his voice! That's why you came here for this moment! Well, I did not fail! I passed damn you! I'm your savior I-"
He stopped mid-sentence.
Baelon let out a slight groan of pain and crumbled.
He caught him before he hit the snowy floor. An arrow pierced his back. The Wildling had already disappeared up the mountain before he even turned his head. "My prince," He lowered him gently. "It's going to be alright."
"I'm cold Arthur..I'm cold." He heard the boy in his voice. The boy who only wanted to please his father, and he was scared and frightened. "Don't leave me."
"Never Baelon. I promise."
Authors note: It's been a while since I posted my last chapter, but I still think about this Rhaegar wins AU it's just more of a side project from my main one. Though I certainly enjoyed writing this version of Jon. It's a lot of fun. Next up we are going to KL and we shall finally see Rhaenys, Dany, and I think Jaime in POV form and get some good old fashion southron politics thrown in the mix after an incompetent expedition Beyond the Wall.
Also I do have a discord link here where we talk about ASOIAF and my other work A Falcon of Summer. Feel free to join in. /ffEQGR43Mz