Baela I
From within the gatehouse, Baela straightened her leather jerkin over her shirt. Brushing a few motes of dust (or perhaps ash?) from it, she decided it was as spotless as it was ever going to be. Stop fussing sis. She could hear Rhaena's mocking tone in her mind, even if she wasn't physically there to infuriatingly point out Baela's signs of impatience and nervousness. Even from the Eyrie, my dearest twin still somehow makes her presence known, Baela thought to herself, amused. In the time since her sister's departure, Baela had found it difficult to adjust to just how empty Dragonstone had begun to feel. Since their birth, she and her twin had always been close, sharing their fleeting crushes on squires together, organizing pranks, and changing clothing to see if anyone would be able to tell them apart. Many hadn't realized that despite some rather obvious differences, they had always been more alike than different. Just because Rhaena likes dresses and I do not doesn't mean we are not close, she thought to herself. Which is why I wish she were here now. Rhaena would know what to do, or at least have good advice. The moment Baela had heard the rumors, she had known she had to meet this supposed 'half-brother' of hers. At first, she had been enraged. Apparently, in his home village, this upjumped peasant had been well known for claiming to be the son of Prince Daemon Targaryen. Baela could not believe it. Had father been privy to that, he'd have had his tongue out, she thought with a satisfied grin.
Another part of her was less eager to see the man punished. Father has always been a proud man, and I'd be a fool to believe he'd never sired any bastards. Nevertheless, it was humiliating to hear the seed had been speaking so. Is this man a fool? She had thought upon first hearing the rumors. The Queen was never particularly forgiving, but with her miscarriage and Lucerys' death her cousin Rhaenyra had become a shade of her former self. She had barely left her chambers, and most of the food sent up to her quarters returned untouched. If she were to receive word that one of the seeds was traipsing around proclaiming royal bastardy, her cruelty would be legendary. If this man really is father's son, he'd best learn to keep his mouth shut. Baela was thankful Mushroom had sung a tune of the Prince's seed in her presence first. If he had sung to anyone else of it, the dragonseed may have been killed long before Baela could discern if there were any truth to his claims.
I'll get to the bottom of this either way. She had initially been excited for this meeting, but now that she was actually at the designated meeting spot she found her stomach twisting in knots. If he lies, I must needs tell the Queen. Our enemies cannot be allowed any more opportunities to slander our Queen. She pitied him if that were to be the course she had to take. What if… what if he is my blood? A voice rose unbidden. Mother died giving birth to a younger brother for my sister and I. Aegon and Viserys are sweet boys, but their status as Princes means we have never been allowed to truly treat them as our brothers. At least not formally. She frowned. The Queen would never approve, and it was unlikely that father would either. Once more, she wished Rhaena was there to give advice. At least sister would approve of how smoothly I arranged this meeting, she thought to herself with a smirk.
Once Baela had decided upon meeting the dragonseed, it had been easy enough to sneak out, just as she would have on other nights to explore the citadel by night. As a Targaryen, even if she were caught she could simply cow any who found her, making sure they'd not reveal that she had broken her curfew. The last step had also been easy; she had found one of the guards she remembered her father had brought from King's Landing and simply asked him to deliver her message. The Prince of Dragonstone indeed, she thought with a smirk. If this dragonseed had any sense he'd have realized that my betrothed would never summon him at such an hour. Glancing at her candle she held, she judged she had only been gone from her chambers for perhaps thirty minutes. I have plenty of time, she thought.
Only a few minutes had passed when there was a knock at the door. The door opened to reveal the familiar face of her father's man. Pate is his name, if I remember correctly. I'll have to see that he is rewarded for this, as he has put himself in a great deal of danger for my own sake. Pate entered, nodded in respect to Baela, then motioned for a tall man who had been following him to enter. "Ya have but a few moments with the Lady, Gaemon Waters. I'll be listening, so mind your manners." Turning to Baela, he followed with "M'lady, one word, and I'll be back. This un' might be big, but I'll kick his sorry arse all the same if there's any trouble." Bowing, he closed the door behind him.
The man immediately dropped to one knee, his face facing the floor. When she bid him to rise, she was finally able to observe the dragonseed from up close, instead of from one of the Stone Drum's lancets. Baela had to stifle a laugh. THIS man was her half brother? She had known he had hair of an auburn color, but had at least assumed he'd have eyes of purple or violet to lend some credence to his claim. Instead, green eyes regarded her with a mixture of interest and surprise. Breaking the silence, he spoke. "Forgive me, my lady, but I fear there has been some mistake. I have had the honor of meeting the Prince of Dragonstone, and I daresay I believe he was decidedly less female."
Baela realized that he was jesting, and she found herself already annoyed with this dragonseed. "You speak true, good man. I fear that I purposely misled you here. I am not my betrothed, as you have so wisely deduced. Instead you find yourself speaking to Lady Baela Targaryen, the daughter of the Prince rumors say you claim is your father. I have cometo determine whether there is any veracity to those rumors. I would advise you to choose your next few words very carefully."
Her words had an effect on the man, as he pursed his lips in apparent contemplation. His right hand raised from his side, and began to play with a pouch he had slung around his neck. The humor that had danced in his eyes had faded, replaced with something akin to sadness. "I had hoped that the rumors would not have followed me from my old home." He began. "I mean no disrespect, my lady. But those rumors you have heard are true. I do claim to be the son of your lord father." Baela wasn't sure what she had expected him to say when she accused him, but she certainly hadn't expected an admission, at least not initially. Her initial wrath had subsided, and she wasn't exactly sure how to react. Once again, she wished her sister were there, to assist with this process.
"So you do not deny them, then." Baela began. "You must realize how hard I find it to believe you. Seven hells, I at least expected you to have eyes of Valyrian purple. Instead, you look more like a Trout than a Dragon." Pleased with her metaphor, she continued. "You must have some sort of proof, to back your claim. Otherwise you couldn't expect anyone to believe you."
Once more his hand flew to the pouch around his neck. He clearly was thinking about how to respond, and apparently made up his mind, as he began to speak. "I do have proof, my lady, but I fear it may not be the sort that would befit a woman of your station…"
Cutting him off by raising her hand, she spoke: "Save me the speech about preserving my virtue as a lady, I hear that sort of drivel from my septas. You either have proof, or you do not." The corners of the dragonseed's lips curled upwards, ever so slightly, before returning to rest in a neutral expression. Reaching to the pouch hanging from his neck, he opened it, pulling a golden dragon from within. Placing it in his palm, he held it out to her.
Grabbing the dragon from his palm, she held it in the candlelight. She could tell by touch it was real. On one side, her house's sigil was emblazoned, and flipping it to the other, she saw it featured the likeness of her uncle, the former king Viserys I. The coin had evidently been minted early in his reign, as he appeared much younger than her memories of him. Such coins were rare, as they were often recalled by the royal mint when it produced new coins every so often. Baela was certainly intrigued, as she did not expect a former member of the smallfolk to possess a coin of such value. Even so, he could have won it at dice, or stolen it. Turning to him, she pulled back her hood, revealing her cropped hair and Valyrian features. "Tell me dragonseed, what exactly does this coin prove?"
The dragonseed sighed. "Prince Daemon Targaryen is famous on this island amongst the small folk. Many maidens have dreamt of becoming his secret love, even for a night. My mother was lucky enough to be granted that request. What she did not realize was that the Prince was not looking for a lover, but a whore. When he was done with her, he paid her that coin. My mother was no whore. She died birthing me, but kept the coin. She must have known it was the only way I'd ever be able to prove my parentage. No small folk on the island possess such great wealth." He sighed. "I realize now that I was a fool to proclaim my heritage so boldly. It could only ever be taken as a slight or as a threat to the trueborn members of my father's house." Looking at her, his shoulders sagged. "You have my story, my Lady. What do you plan to do with it?"
Baela usually thought of herself as a woman with all the answers. She had none now. Silently, she handed the dragonseed the coin back. "If you are wondering whether I plan to tell the Queen, you may rest easy. I will not condemn you to such a cruel fate." She had heard the rumors about her father, and despite the dragonseed's appearance, he told the story with such strong conviction that she found herself wondering if it might be true. He did tame the Cannibal after all. He has the blood of the dragon, whether it be from my father's veins or another. "I would advise you to not tell your story to anyone else on this island. Few are as merciful as I when it comes to such indiscretions."
The man once more fell to one knee, nodding his ascent. "Thank you, my Lady, I will not forget your kindness."
Nodding, Baela placed a hand on his shoulder. "What is your name, dragonseed?" Returning her gaze, the man smiled wanly. "I am called Gaemon Waters, my Lady." Even his name isn't exactly a subtle proclamation, Baela thought wryly. Giving Gaemon's shoulder a squeeze, Baela spoke: "I ask that you serve our Queen well, Gaemon Waters. And please do be a leal servant of my betrothed. I fear he is in need of loyal men now more than ever." With that, she drew her hood back up over her head, and exited, nodding to Pate as she exited the tower.
Baela had not slept well the night afterwards. She had of course heard the rumors of her father's infidelities, but rumors were one thing, while a possible half-brother was quite another. The man who had raised her was fierce, but loving in his own way, and had made it clear he adored 'his princesses', which he insisted on calling Baela and Rhaena even after King Viserys had forbade that they be given the title. Eventually, during what must have been the midst of the Hour of the Nightingale, she rose and called for a servant. She decided she would start early with a bath, as the heat would help to wake her and clear her head for the coming day.
Once the water had been heated and the tub filled, she stripped her sleeping gown off and entered the water, which had been heated to the verge of boiling (just as she liked it). What others would have found harmfully hot, she found soothing. Waving her maidservants off, she allowed herself to relax, the steam rising off the water in silvery wisps and caressing her face. This must be how dragons feel within the Dragonmont, she thought to herself contentedly. She relaxed in the water until it had begun to cool, only then beginning to scrub herself with the bristled brush (she had long insisted she be allowed to bathe herself, she was too impatient to allow serving girls to scrub her). When she felt appropriately pristine, she rose from the tub and dried herself, noting with appreciation she still was maintaining her toned form. Let Rhaena have her womanly beauty, she thought. I will be the next Visenya. Drying her hair, she once more found herself appreciating how she kept it short. Convenient both for flying and drying it, 'conventional fashion' be damned.
She chose an outfit akin to what she had worn the day previously, but of finer materials. Despite the protestations of the courtiers, she always had gravitated to outfits that emphasized practicality, meaning that dresses almost never featured in her wardrobe. Today, it would be a black riding shirt, leather pants, and knee-high boots. As she made the final decisions on her outfit, she decided on wearing a ruby three-headed dragon pendant her father had given to her on her last name day. A bauble fitting for a princess. She allowed it to hang about her neck, and unbuttoned her shirt enough to allow it to be seen. I might as well give Jacaerys something to look at, she thought with a smirk. Perhaps that will provide him the incentive to go through with our marriage.
Exiting her chambers, she ascended the stairs of the Stone Drum in order to reach the chamber of the Painted Table, where she knew Jacaerys would be planning his next move. With the dragonseeds proving more successful than any had hoped for, Baela could sense her betrothed was eager to utilize their new-found overwhelming superiority to take King's Landing. When she entered the chamber, she found the room filled with more people than she had expected for an hour so early, as the sun had still not yet risen over the horizon. Maester Gerardys, his chain hanging about his neck, stood observing from the side of the table, alongside Lord Bonnifer Bar Emmon in his tabard of white and silver. Across from them, seated in an elevated chair where Dragonstone would have been depicted on the map, Jacaerys sat, pondering the crownlands where the Blackwater Rush entered the bay. Standing to Jacaerys' right were Lord Corlys Velaryon and his newly legitimized grandsons, Addam and Alyn. Completing the array of notable individuals were Ser Lorent Marbrand in his white cloak and Lord Bartimos Celtigar in his white tabard bedecked in red crabs.
Raising his head to acknowledge her entrance, Jacaerys smiled, his warm brown eyes glinting. "Welcome cos. We are just finishing up our plan to deliver nuncle Aegon a nasty surprise. We have chosen the first full moon of the new year as the date. My mother's reign will truly begin once she sits the Iron Throne, and I cannot think of a better time to topple the usurper than the beginning of a new year."
Smiling wolfishly, Baela nodded. "I'm sure the usurper will be very pleased to see you, cos. So pleased he might just shit himself." Maester Gerardys tutted, undoubtedly disapproving of her obscene choice of wording.
Lord Corlys, suppressing a smile, spoke: "That is certainly not appropriate language for one of your station, granddaughter. I'm fairly certain I met Qartheen sailors with mouths less than half as foul."
Jacaerys snorted. "My betrothed's choice of vocabulary aside, let us return to the plan. On the determined date, the newly assembled dragonseeds and I will fly alongside my mother to King's Landing. We shall be joined in the skies above the city by Prince Daemon, who has been informed of the date of our attack. If the sight of eight dragons above the city is not enough to cow the usurper, we will instead rip the three dragons he can muster to shreds. I do so hope the kinslayer chooses to fight. Avenging my brother upon dragonback will prove much sweeter than simply striking Aemond's head from his shoulders." Jacaerys' face darkened with anger. Sighing, he continued: "Lord Corlys, you will use your fleet to carry the men of Lord Bar Emmon and Celtigar to the city. The sight of so many dragons should prove more than enough to pacify any potential resistance, but boots on the ground can never hurt. Prince Daemon assures me that the Gold Cloaks are still his men, but I'd prefer to have men of proven loyalty around me. With any luck, the fall of the city will bring this war to a quick end. The traitors will have their lands and titles seized, and will then be executed, or allowed to take the black if they so choose. My mother will finally sit her rightful throne, and this bloodletting will be brought to a close."
Lord Corlys and the other assembled nobles nodded their assent. Baela was pleased to see how well Jacaerys had taken to ruling in his mother's stead; it appeared the Lords were pleased to still have a strong leader. Queen Rhaenyra was still noticeably absent; the death of Lucerys had been devastating, and she clearly still mourned for her second son. Perhaps the chance to take King's Landing and the Iron Throne will reignite some of that flame within her, Baela thought to herself.
"Is there any word of our brothers, Jacaerys? From what I can recall, they should be well on their way towards Pentos by now." Baela asked.
"As of yet, there has been no word. I wouldn't think that should be any cause for concern, though. The ravens kept on the Gay Abandon were only to be used in the case of a dire emergency. Besides, Lord Velaryon provided several escort galleys." Jacaerys responded.
Baela had opened her mouth to respond when horns began to sound from without the castle walls. Those horns mark the approach of a dragon rider, she thought to herself with a start. Surely the usurper would not be so foolish as to attack us here. The others must have heard the alarms as well, as Jacaerys hopped down from his chair, looking just as confused. He rushed through the doors of the chamber, with Baela and the assembled council in tow. After descending the steps, they excited the Stone Drum in time to see a young, darkly hued dragon descending into the courtyard, before crashing onto the cobblestone. Countless arrows protruded from its bleeding stomach, and a larger bolt had pierced its neck. The dragon hissed in agony, as black steaming blood poured from its wounds. It was as the dragon flailed upon the stones that Baela noticed the young boy finally release his death-like grip and fall to the cobblestone off of its back.
"Aegon!" She cried as she ran to embrace her younger half-brother. He was shaking, and as soon as she took him into her arms, he began to be wracked with sobs. His small body shook, and was nearly cold to the touch with terror.
"Th-th-they have Vis-Viserys B-B-Baela." He choked into her shoulder. "I f-flew away, but had to l-l-leave him." Upon uttering those words, Aegon's sobs became even more heart wrenching.
Warm arms wrapped around them both as Jacaerys took them both into his embrace tightly. "Don't worry brother, we will get Viserys back. I promise you that. You were brave to escape them! You showed our enemies you were a true dragon."
If Jacaerys' words had any effect, Aegon did not show it. He continued to sob, undoubtedly coming to terms with the abandonment of his brother and the death of his dragon, to say nothing of his terror.
As the three of them stayed locked in an embrace, Baela heard a voice she'd not heard in weeks cry out from the steps of the Stone Drum. Running, holding her skirts to allow her to move more quickly, the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms hurried as quickly as she could down the steps of the Stone Drum, shouting "Aegon!" Reaching their group, she pulled Aegon into her embrace, holding him against her while she scanned the courtyard with eyes puffy from recent tears. None of said tears remained in her eyes, however. Her violet eyes blazed with a terrifying rage. Scanning the courtyard, she took note of Aegon's dying dragon, the assembled Lords, and the rapidly gathering crowd. As she ran her hands through Aegon's hair, she turned to Jacaerys. "Find the men who did this, Jacaerys. Bring them Fire and Blood."
Maester Gerardys had quickly gone to the Sea Dragon Tower, returning with messages from ravens that had just arrived. Paling, he spoke: "It appears the Triarchy has amassed a great fleet in order to strike us, my Queen. The outermost vessels of Lord Velaryon's fleet are reporting dozens of war galleys approaching the Gullet."
Rhaenyra's eyes narrowed with hate. "They will pay a thousand-fold for their crimes. If only my Lord Husband were here to see to it personally. He knows well how to deal with scum from the Three Whores." Once more, she turned to Jacaerys. "Son, my order stands. Bring honor to your mother and Queen, and flame to these animals. It is time to test the mettle of these dragonriders you have assembled."
Nodding, Jacaerys turned to the crowd that had assembled. Baela could make out the faces of several of the seeds she had glimpsed from within the Stone Drum previously, included a gangly white-haired man with a face that appeared to be perpetually flushed with drink, a massive man whose arms resembled those of a smith, Addam Velaryon, and the girl who was brown of skin and dark of hair. Lastly, she spotted the last two of their number, a tall man with brown hair and eyes the color of a storm, and of course, Gaemon Waters. Her eyes locked with Gaemon's eyes, and he nodded gravely, seemingly saying: you have my word that I will burn these men to ash.
Jacaerys, also having surveyed the crowd, appeared to be pleased that all of the riders had already assembled. "Dragonseeds, step forward" he began, "it is on a day as grave as this that I find myself truly grateful that you answered my call. Men from across the Narrow Sea have come to put Dragonstone and Driftmark to the sack and enslave their peoples in the name of Aegon, the usurper. Today I ask you to make good on your pledges to my house and my mother, the Queen. Together we will bring Fire and Blood to these men, these rapid dogs. We will help them to remember what their fathers and grandfathers before them forgot. We will teach them that they are never, ever to cross the Blood of the Dragon! When they see wings on the horizon, I want them to feel one thing, and one thing only: Terror! Will you fight with me today?"
The dragonseeds, having all stepped forward, all had adopted grave expressions upon their faces. They were silent, each grimly contemplating what they were about to do. Or perhaps regretting their commitments? A voice asked from within Baela's mind. Gaemon, casting looks at the other seeds, was the first to step forward. "I will fly with you today, my Prince. Fire and Blood!" He shouted her House's words, his eyes alight. "Fire and Blood!" Cried the other seeds. Jacaerys smiled grimly, and Baela saw his expression was matched on his mother's face.
The next few minutes dissolved into absolute chaos, as the dragons were all led into the central courtyard in order to be equipped. Many, such as Vermax, Seasmoke, Vermithor, and Silverwing accepted their saddles without complaint. For the three who had previously been untamed, the process was much more challenging. The towering seed approached his pale grey-white dragon, the so-called Grey Ghost, and after placing a hand on its head, beckoned the attendants forward, who were able to saddle the dragon without much incident. The ugly brown dragon, called Sheep Stealer by the smallfolk, initially snapped and roared at those surrounding it until its rider brought it a sheep to feed upon. It hissed as it was saddled, but made no further threatening movements.
The last dragon, a great black monstrosity with eyes of an otherworldly green shade, was the most resistant to the process. It roared, shaking the courtyard with its rage before rising and spewing a great gout of green flame that matched its eyes into the air. Snapping at the brown dragon that was nearest to it, it lowered itself to the cobblestones, hissing and billowing steam from its maw as it glanced balefully around. Gaemon approached it with his black dragon whip and cracked it about the dragon's head, forcing it to heel. Only after he had seemingly forced it back under control did he allow for the attendants to approach. The dragon lunged at the first attendant, but was once more driven back by the whip. Hissing ferociously, it finally allowed itself to be saddled. The Cannibal certainly lives up to its name, Baela thought to herself.
Once the dragons had been saddled, squires and knights emerged from the armory carrying the newly prepared sets of armor for the dragonseeds. They were quickly helped to suit up, putting on their black and red gambesons, followed by black mail, and lastly the dark black plate armor itself. All of the dragonseed's breastplates were fitted with a red three-headed dragon. The girl was given a modified suit of black leather and mail, on account of her small size. Once suited, they gathered in a circle, where Jacaerys joined them. Baela stood as close as she could, so as to overhear. The sun was rising as they discussed their plan of attack.
"Nettles, Addam, Hugh, and Ulf, you will fly north with me. The Triarchy has seen fit to divide its fleet into two pincers, one sailing north of Dragonstone, the other south. Their intent must be to break Lord Velaryon's blockade. Our goal will be to shatter their attack, force their retreat, and deal as much damage as possible to their fleet." Turning to Gaemon and the other dragonseed, he continued: "Gaemon and Maegor, you will fly South, and engage the other pincer. Since you fly the largest and fastest dragons respectively, you should have little trouble destroying the Southern pincer."
Each of the seeds nodded their assent to the plan, and donning their winged helms, walked to their dragons, where they clambered into the saddles with their whips. An attendant scurried up with them, chaining them into their saddles. Jacaerys turned to Baela, an oddly distant and melancholy look in his eyes.
"Cos, when I return, I must needs speak with you. There is something I should have told you before this, but I fear now that it must wait til after this fight. When I return, I promise I will hold no secrets from you any longer." He gave her a kiss on the forehead, before turning to receive a kiss from his mother, who hugged him fiercely. He then began to mount Vermax.
"Jacaerys!" She cried. He turned to regard her. "I will hold you to that! You'll feel my wrath soon enough!" Baela spoke in jest, but her stomach was twisting in knots. What has Jacaerys been keeping from me? Rage began to burn within her. I wish to know now. She almost called out to him again, but she knew better than to delay his departure any further. She blinked back tears of frustration as Vermax let loose a roar, echoed by the other dragons. Lifting into the sky the dragons soared in ever higher circles. Baela ran to the battlements to watch them, wishing her own Moondancer was large enough to join them. Her eyes watched the Cannibal and Grey Ghost turn south, before following Vermax as it led the others north. Baela Targaryen was not a religious woman, but she found herself saying a prayer to the Warrior. As they disappeared behind a bank of clouds, Baela whispered: "Be safe, Cos. Bring Fire and Blood to those bastards. But most importantly, come back."