The Princess and the Queen 21: Red and Gold

Baelon didn't understand.

What did I do wrong?

It had been some days since Baelon and all his family had returned to King's Landing, and still, he had not truly had a chance to properly speak or play with Daeron and Baela. They had greeted each other upon reunion, but Baelon felt a coolness, and since then, he had barely caught a glimpse of his uncle.

Maybe he is a man grown now and has no time to play childish games in the yard with his nine-year-old nephew.

Occasionally, whenever he did see Daeron in the yard or the halls, they did greet each other with a nod, but it was nothing more than that, and Daeron sometimes even ignored that. Baelon did try and smile at him, but it was to no avail. Daeron would just frown and turn in the other direction.

I would ask what I did wrong, but he keeps avoiding me.

The last time Baelon did see Daeron was at a feast organised by the King, two days prior. They sat on opposite ends of the table, but that would not usually prevent them from mingling. But that night, Daeron was engrossed in conversation with his mother and two younger siblings, and didn't even offer a glance at Baelon. However, that was somewhat understandable since Baelon also spent most of the evening talking to his own siblings.

At least my siblings would never stop talking to me... or will they?

Baelon tried to push away those cruel thoughts as folly. At least with little Joff, Visenya, and Viserys, they were his siblings. No matter what would occur in their life, their bond would never break, thanks to their shared blood.

But Maegor the Cruel and Aenys the Weak were brothers... no... I shall never grow distant from my siblings... I swear it.

His mind then went to his three siblings, and finally, a tiny smile appeared on his little face. First, he thought of Joff, with his curly brown hair and pug nose. Joff would follow Baelon everyone like a pup clinging onto its mother, from the training yard on Dragonstone to lessons with Maester Gerardys.

Joff still enjoys lessons in the yard... I wish I did too.

Baelon hated those early mornings when he would groggily lumber over to the yard to train with Ser Arryk Cargyll. Joff, on the other hand, would already be there, whacking away under the supervision of Ser Lorent Marbrand. According to Ser Lorent, Joff showed signs of talent with sword and shield, and Baelon reckoned that his baby brother would easily surpass him in strength when they were both men.

Then, he thought of Viserys and Visenya, both a year younger than Joff. They both had the same pale face and entrancing purple eyes. Viserys kept his hair short, whilst Visenya kept her silvery gold hair tied in a braid. Viserys and Visenya both clung to each other most of the time whilst also adoring Baelon and Joff, but aside from that, the twins could not be more different.

Viserys was the louder of the two, full of energy and laughs and cheers, and loved playing pranks on servants. However much he loved making japes, he was still a soft boy who loved his mother's kisses more than anything. Visenya, though not timid whatsoever, spoke much less than her twin brother. She was also fascinated with dragons and loved when Daemon read her tales of Old Valyria and the dragonlords of old.

I have my own siblings to protect me; I know that for sure.

Baelon repeated that in his head a few times until it stuck with him. But it wasn't enough.

I need to know... what did I do wrong? Why are Daeron and Baela angry at me?

Baelon sat in his chambers for half an hour until he finally mustered up the courage to go and find out why. He changed into more presentable cloths, a bright red doublet clasped with small golden clips. He let his hair flow down him, a river of molten gold against his fair skin. Then, he made his way down to the yard to find his uncle and aunt, where they usually were during this time of day.

On the way down to the yard, courtiers and nobles nodded at Baelon as he passed. Some of the courtiers, mainly those clad in red, black, or white, even stopped and bowed their heads, addressing Baelon as "My Prince" and offering their support. Baelon didn't know why some did and some didn't, but he appreciated those that did, which made him smile slightly.

He eventually did reach the outer yard, which was bustling with life and action. Maids and pages rushed around, carrying pails of water and rolled-up parchments. Squires were engaged in sparring whilst stableboys were brushing horses. The air smelt like it usually did in King's Landing, a bit like a garden with the undertones of animal waste. It was familiar, and whilst not very pleasant, it was familiar.

In the yard, Baelon's three siblings were playing, each of them holding a small wooden sword. Joining them for company was Aemon, Daeron and Baela's brother, and watching over them were Daeron and Baela, who were engrossed in some conversation Baelon was not privy to.

Baelon ran up to them all and called out. As Daeron and Baela turned to look at him, Daeron whispered something in Baela's ear, and they both frowned. Baela whispered something in return, and Daeron also frowned. She then turned to face Baelon whilst Daeron's eyes fixated at his toes.

"Ah... Baelon, you are finally here," she said with a forced smile.

"Yes, I was looking for both of you..." Baelon replied.

"Can you take over from us, watching over the younger children and giving them your company? Daeron and I are feeling unwell and we need to visit the maester," Baela continued.

"You are not well?" repeated Baelon.

"Since when-" Aemon began before Baela shot a stern look at him, eerily reminiscent of the Queen. "Ah yes, you have been unwell."

"I just wanted to ask-" smiled Baelon, but Baela cut in.

"You can mayhaps tell us later," she smiled before she and Daeron rushed off in the opposite direction to their quarters.

"I pray for your recovery!" Baelon shouted to them both, to no reply.

"I did not know that Prince Daeron and Prince Baela were feeling bad," said Joff. "The didn't seem it."

"Well, they are," shrugged Aemon. "You are five; how would you know?"

"He is only one year smaller than you," said Viserys.

"One year is a lot," replied Aemon.

Maybe Daeron and Baela truly were unwell... that was why they did not wish me a proper farewell all those years ago or were they lying back then, too?

Baelon shrugged, keeping his doubts and thoughts to himself whilst his younger siblings and Aemon played in the yard. Watching them run around without care made Baelon reminisce about all those years ago when he used to run around with Daeron, Baela, and even Lady Jocelyn.

"I am the rider of Vermithor!" roared Aemon, swinging his sword at Viserys as the four-year-old ducked out of the way. "None of you are a match for my Bronze Fury!"

"Then I am the Silverwing's rider!" Visenya screamed in retort, chasing her uncle, a wooden sword in her hand.

"My dragon is bigger and better and stronger!" Aemon laughed, ducking away from Visenya's attacks whilst also trying to whack Viserys.

"When my dragon hatches, it shall defeat all of the other dragons!" added Viserys, panting.

"When my egg hatches, it shall be," replied Joff.

"It is the fifth egg you are on now," Visenya said.

"This one shall hatch, I am sure of it," said Joff, in a tone that showed he was not sure of it.

"At least you have an egg," Viserys said, glancing at Aemon.

"You be quiet!" angrily shouted Aemon. "I will get an egg, and you say sorry!"

"Why should I? I just said you don't," shrugged Viserys.

"Say sorry!" Aemon yelled as Joff put a hand on his little brother's shoulder and whispered something in his ear.

"Very well, I am sorry about saying that," Viserys said dejectedly.

"Thank you, and I will get an egg, and I will have the best dragon, better than all of you!" laughed Aemon as Visenya rolled her eyes.

Whilst the children were busy arguing about eggs, Baelon's mind went back to Daeron and Baela so swiftly leaving the yard at the mere sight of him.

Mayhaps they were both genuinely ill, but surely I would have been aware of such a thing... or are they purposely trying to avoid me?

His mind felt scrambled like the eggs he had eaten in the morning. Little Aemon was only six and would not lie. And if he did, Baelon didn't know why he would. At least Baelon may have done something to wrong Daeron and Baela (what that was, however, Baelon was unsure of), but with Aemon, he had not. All of Baelon's interactions with the princeling were when he was just a babe, and if Baelon couldn't remember anything from when he was a babe, neither could Aemon.

I am lying to myself... it is clear that they are avoiding me. It has happened much too many times to be a coincidence.

Again, Baelon still didn't know why they all seemed to hate him, which made him unhappy. He just wanted it all to end; he just wanted to stop feeling sad. Baelon thought back to Maester Gerardys, who once told him that wine prevents people from feeling things. Maybe, the wine would stop him from feeling sad, as well.

No... what I want is for Daeron and Baela to stop avoiding me.

"Baelon?" Joff said, his little brown eyes worried. "Are you well?"

"Yes... I..." sighed Baelon. "I am unwell; I'm to return to my chambers."

"But do you not need to watch over us?" asked Viserys.

"Watch over yourselves," Baelon scoffed dismissively, storming away.

As he was exiting the outer yard, he came across Ser Criston Cole in all his arrogant glory. The knight wore the same milk-white armour and cloak that Ser Arryk and Ser Lorent wore, but one of his roundels was bright blue. The man had the same cruel, angry face that Baelon remembered. It reminded him somewhat of Daemon, but at least Daemon was friendly at times.

"Prince Baelon," he said curtly, his green eyes twinkling. "Do you not want to train in the yard? I can test your skills in a spar, if you would permit."

"I would not," grumbled Baelon.

"Are you certain, My Prince? I would like to see how much you have improved since your relocation to Dragonstone. The last time we trained together, you did not fare so well, did you? Though, I am sure you have improved now," Ser Criston said.

Baelon froze, thinking about those days in the training all those years ago. It was hellish, with Ser Criston shouting at every little mistake he made, and even that time when he made Baela beat the daylight out of it. It would have only been more embarrassing if he had soiled his breeches after it. Baelon still remembered the whisperers and giggles around the Red Keep for days after that.

I am certain they were pointing and laughing at me... Prince Baelon, who cannot even beat a girl!

"So, Prince Baelon, what do you say?" Ser Criston said, his grin widening.

"No... No... I shall not..." quickly said Baelon, rushing away from the yard and back into Maegor's Holdfast.

All he could think about on the way there was how much he loathed Ser Criston. He even thought of feeding him to Sunfyre but quickly brushed away such a cruel thought. At least for that moment, he was thinking about something other than why Daeron and Baela were ignoring him.

Maybe Ser Criston is the reason that they dislike me... maybe he has poisoned their minds...

It was not outlandish, since Daeron and Baela looked up to Ser Criston as if he was a second father to them. Spending four years with the knight's company could surely make someone hate another person.

No, it can't be, since Ser Criston was here all those other years when Daeron and Baela did not ignore me... maybe I truly have done something terrible to upset them.

Baelon still didn't know why his friends hated him, why Ser Criston hated him, and why just about everyone hated him. He also didn't know why he didn't have the natural talent Joff had in the training yard, nor the adeptness at sums like Viserys, nor the fascination with the histories like Visenya. Baelon was adequate at all of these, but he was not exceptional, which seemed to be a common occurrence for him.

Why is it that I am never the best at anything?

He then thought that maybe Ser Criston, ever the martial man, disliked Baelon because he was not so skilled in the yard, and that Daeron, so talented with sums and sciences, disliked Baelon's laziness, and Baela, who loved tales of heroes from the past, disliked Baelon's disinterest in the subject.

They dislike me because I am not good enough for them, that might be the reason. But if that is true, will my siblings hate me for the same reason in the future?

Baelon balled up his fist and sniffled, trying to hold back a torrent of tears from flooding down his pale cheeks. That was until he finally reached his quarters and was in the company of no one, save for his thoughts.

There, he let out the river. His cloths were soaked, as well as the new white sheets of his bed. The tears that went into his mouth reminded him of the saltcod from Braavos but much more bitter. He cried for a while longer, until his eyes were as red as his doublet, and they burned like he had stepped in front of Sunfyre's hot breath. Eventually, the tears dried up and clung to his cheeks, making him feel itchier than his straw mattress on Dragonstone.

By then, he was too tired to cry any more, so his mind drifted off to better places. He thought of his father, whose face he barely remembered, and the good times they had together. He remembered those days he would have suppers with both of his parents, where they would eat and talk and laugh into the night. Once, his father had brought a troupe of mummers from Lys, who made the funniest impression of the King.

It all became worse since Father passed.

After his father passed, Ser Harwin Strong was the next to go, having been dismissed for punching Ser Criston in the face, which Baelon deserved. The burly knight was like a second father to Baelon until that day he left for Harrenhal and never came back.

He promised me he would!

Following that, Baelon had to relocate to Dragonstone after his mother married Daemon. The island was grim, with dark halls and corridors, and felt perpetually cold, even in the height of summer. Not many people lived in the castle, and everything was a shade of grey. Baelon rued the fact that his mother married Daemon, since that was why Dragonstone became their new living place, at least according to a serving boy he once heard.

Daemon wasn't truly a horrible man, even when his tempers flared. He could be funny at times, and most of the time, he ignored Baelon. Regardless of how nice or not the silver-haired prince was, though, he would not be able to replace Baelon's real father.

It has not been all bad... Joff, Viserys, and Visenya were born.

That at least made Baelon smile again. He loved his siblings, and they, along with their shared mother, were the only ones who actually enjoyed Baelon's company, it seemed. Still, as good as his siblings were, it would be better if they were all living in King's Landing. The capital was busier, louder, and full of life and colours. The food was better, as was the music. The people were nicer, too.

And maybe if we had remained in King's Landing, Daeron and Baela would not hate me.

Sometime later, however long that was, Baelon didn't know; his mother entered the room, along with Daemon. Baelon was laid out on his bed, staring up at the cream stone ceiling, thinking of everything and nothing at the same time. As soon as his mother saw him, she rushed over to the bedside.

"Baelon?" she said. "Are you well?"

Baelon sat up and turned to face her. She had a look of concern on her face, but just the sight of her was reassuring and familiar. Her caring purple eyes and customary red and black dresses made Baelon feel safe. Nonetheless, he broke into tears at the mere sight of her.

"Ohh... gods, Baelon... what is the matter?" Mother cooed, her soft hands caressing Baelon's back.

That only made him sob harder, so he held her tighter, and she did the same.

"P-Promise... m-me, M-Mother," spluttered Baelon through a flurry of tears and snot.

"Promise what, my sweetling?" she whispered, using her hand to shoo Daemon away. He quickly slithered out of the room with an expression that resembled a mixture of concern and curiosity on his face.

"Promise that you won't hate me," Baelon coughed.

"Baelon... why would I do such a thing? I would never hate you, never," Mother reassured, running her fingers through Baelon's hair. "What gave you the impression that would happen?"

She slowly pulled away from the embrace, and they faced each other eye to eye. Baelon couldn't see her clearly through the tears in his eyes, but it was plain to even him that his mother was distressed at his state. Her mouth was curled into a frown, and her eyes had tears building in there, too.

"Everyone... they all hate me; why does everyone hate me?" sniffled Baelon.

"Who hates you, Baelon? I love you, as do your brothers and sisters, and your grandfather," she said, resting her hands on his shoulders.

"Daeron and Baela do! And I don't know why! Why do they hate me, mother?" said Baelon, his voice shrill.

"They hate you?" asked Mother, her eyebrows rising. "Why would they hate you? You have done nought wrong to them."

"They ignore me, all the time. For the last four days. They don't want to talk to me. And I know they are lying to me, but why? Did I do anything wrong, Mother?"

"You have not, I am sure... no... I know you haven't, my sweet," she calmly said, which calmed Baelon too.

"Then why do they not want to talk to me?" he asked. "Was it because I am not as good with a sword... or engaged in the histories... is it because of that?"

"It is not your fault, Baelon. It's not your fault at all," Mother gently said. "Whatever grievances they have with you, it is not your fault; remember this, my sweet."

"But what is the reason... I want to know this..." Baelon whimpered.

Mother shook her head and sighed before looking up at the ceiling. After that, she chuckled to herself, which made Baelon more confused than anything.

"When you are older... no... you shall understand it better," she sighed, putting her head in her hands. "I shall not burden you at such a tender age with such a reason. But I assure you, that you have done nothing wrong, and you shall always be my son, and I shall always love you."

I thought Daeron would always be my friend, too.

"Do you promise me?"

"I promise you, my sweet," she promised, offering her little finger. Baelon did the same, and they did a sort of handshake with their fingers. Mother giggled at that, which made Baelon truly smile. She then kissed him on the forehead and took him in for another embrace.

"What of Joff, and Viserys, and Visenya? What of them?" Baelon asked, deep in the protection of his mother's arms.

"They are your siblings, Baelon. You have to be their protector, to shield them from those who might harm them. But I know this; they will always love you too."

Baelon nodded to himself, swearing that he would always protect all of them. Joff, with his cute nose; Viserys, with his mischievous smile; and Visenya, with her inquisitive eyes.

"I can do that, Mother," Baelon smiled, because he didn't want his mother to see him upset any longer.

"I am proud of you, then," she replied.

She then stood up and took Baelon by the hand, leading him out of the room.

"Come, my sweet, what do you wish to do? Are you hungry?"

Though his mother had quelled his tears and worries, he still felt them bubbling deep within him. There was still an unease, and even if his mother had convinced him that it was not his fault, there was still a reason why Daeron and Baela disliked him. And for that, he still felt sad.

"I want to drink some wine," he said. "Arbor Red and Arbor Gold."

"Wine?" she laughed. "Why do you wish to drink wine?"

It will stop me from feeling sad.