"...Please wake up."
Baelon groaned half-asleep.
"Give me some more minutes, Helaena."
Silence.
"I…am not Princess Helaena, Your Grace."
What?
He instinctively turned around, seeing the empty spot beside him on the bed and a maid standing a few steps away, looking downwards.
"Where is Helaena?"
"With Aerion, Your Grace."
Six years had passed since the tragedy at Driftmark. His father's health had worsened since that day, but aside from that, nothing spectacular had occurred—except for his marriage to Helaena and the birth of their son, Aerion. Over these years, he and Helaena had grown closer. Baelon found himself actually enjoying his talks with her, which made their marriage much easier.
Aerion was a frail and sickly babe. The Maesters whispered their dire predictions, and even Queen Alicent feared he would not survive to see his first name day. Yet, the gods had other plans. Three years had passed since his birth, and against all odds, Aerion clung to life.
They were but ten and six when they became parents, barely more than children themselves. Baelon often thought of Aerion more as a little brother than a son. Over time, he grew accustomed to the role, though the burden never fully lifted. He could only imagine how hard it was for Helaena.
In the six years since Driftmark, Baelon had changed much. He had grown taller than all of his siblings, though he couldn't be certain about Daeron. For all he knew, Daeron might have surpassed him, but he seriously doubted it. The auburn streaks in his hair had become more pronounced.
"Does she require assistance?" Baelon asked, reluctantly pulling himself from the warmth of his bed. The maid, still looking downward, shook her head slightly.
"No, Your Grace. Though, Prince Aemond requested your presence in the yard."
Baelon sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. The training yard was the last place he wanted to be this early, but Aemond rarely made requests lightly, and it was best not to keep his brother waiting.
"Very well," he replied, wearing his boots. "I'll be there shortly."
The maid curtsied and left the room, leaving Baelon to his thoughts.
The Red Keep's yard was uncharacteristically cold, the chill biting through Baelon's cloak. He almost regretted not dressing more warmly. His breath fogged in the crisp morning air as he scanned the yard, spotting Aemond near Criston, who was talking to another Kingsguard.
"Ah, brother." Aemond greeted, his voice carrying a mix of warmth and challenge. He motioned for Baelon to come closer. "Fancy a sparring session?"
"I'd rather not." Baelon shook his head, rubbing his hands together for warmth. "It's too cold, and I just woke up. You'd have an easy match."
"Always an excuse, Baelon." Aemond faked a smile. "But very well. You can at least stay here and watch me spar with Ser Criston, can't you?"
Baelon quirked an eyebrow.
"You requested my presence only for this?"
"No." Aemond answered, his tone firm. "You'll just have to wait and see why. Now, will you stay or not?"
"I'll stay." He sighed, nodding reluctantly.
"Good." Aemond smiled genuinely this time.
Baelon found a spot near the training yard, leaning against a wooden post. He watched as Aemond motioned for Criston to start the sparring session, which Criston happily complied with. Criston's weapon of choice was a flail. A Kingsguard offered him a shield, which Criston refused. Meanwhile, Aemond chose a simple sword and a large red shield.
A crowd began to form around them shortly after. Criston dodged most of Aemond's attacks, swinging his flail with every dodge, making Aemond evade after each of his strikes. Aemond plunged his sword straight at Criston, aiming for his stomach. Criston dodged and swung his flail hard in Aemond's direction, breaking his shield as Aemond ducked.
Aemond discarded his broken shield, facing Criston without any protection. He swung his sword hard, but Criston easily ducked. Rising from his crouch, Criston swung his flail in a powerful arc, forcing Aemond to duck in turn.
They circled each other warily, Aemond's eyes never leaving Criston. Baelon took this lull in the fight to scan the crowd. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary at first, just the usual onlookers. Then his gaze fell on two brown-haired boys. The younger one seemed to cower behind the older, almost frightened. They looked familiar, too familiar. Baelon shook off the feeling, returning his focus to the sparring match just as Criston's flail crashed to the ground once more.
Criston's attacks were largely ineffective, Aemond evading each with a practised grace. Aemond moved with a fluidity that belied the cold air around them, sidestepping and ducking under Criston's swings. When Criston swung his flail high, Aemond deflected it with his sword, using the momentum to spin Criston around. In an instant, Aemond's blade was at Criston's throat, catching him entirely off guard.
Baelon was the first to start clapping, the sound echoing in the cold air. The others soon followed, applause spreading through the crowd. Only the two brown-haired boys he had noticed earlier remained still. The younger boy fidgeted nervously, eyes darting around, while the older one stared intensely at the scene before him. Baelon couldn't discern whether his gaze was fixed on Aemond or Criston.
Criston dropped his flail on the floor and smiled at Aemond.
"Well done, My Prince. You'll be winning tourneys in no time."
Aemond's sword remained poised at Criston's throat, but Criston seemed unfazed, a smile playing on his lips.
"I don't give a shit about tourneys." Aemond chided, before turning his eyes to the two brown-haired boys in the crowd. "Nephews, have you come to train?"
Oh, that's why they seemed familiar. Baelon was ashamed of himself for not recognizing them sooner. In his defence, Jacaerys and Lucerys had changed a lot in these six years. They were almost different people. They still retained their brown hair and brown eyes, but their features had sharpened with age. Jacaerys, especially, had transformed from an average-looking boy into someone the ladies would undoubtedly swoon over. His once round face had become more chiselled. Lucerys, though still more timid, had also grown, his features more defined, his demeanour more cautious and observant.
Neither Jacaerys nor Lucerys answered Aemond's question. It was clear that both of them were terrified of Aemond, Lucerys more so than Jacaerys. Lucerys' eyes darted around, looking for an escape, while Jacaerys tried to maintain a facade of confidence. Aemond's gaze bore into them, unrelenting, as if he could see through their bravado to the fear beneath.
Baelon decided to have his own fun with his nephews as well. He quietly walked up to them and placed both hands on their shoulders, startling them. Lucerys yelped, eyes wide with fear, while Jacaerys merely whimpered, trying to hide his surprise.
"Let's train together, nephews. I'm sure it will be fun."
"Open the gate!" A shout rang out, and the yard's gate swung open to reveal a flood of Velaryon men, led by Vaemond and his sons. Baelon had met Daeron and Daemion Velaryon briefly in Driftmark, though they had been merely babes then. Aemond switched his broken shield for a large white one as Vaemond and his sons strode past. Vaemond didn't spare them a glance, nor did Daemion. Only Daeron's gaze lingered on them. Aemond and Baelon smiled at him simultaneously, causing him to quickly look away.
Baelon suspected this was the true reason Aemond summoned him to the yard. Vaemond Velaryon had challenged the succession of Driftmark, claiming that Lucerys Velaryon had no right to be the next Lord of the Tides. In blunt terms, he had branded Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey as bastards.
Baelon was sure that by day's end, either Vaemond or one of his sons would lose their tongue.
And Baelon was rarely ever wrong.
"Though it is the great hope of this court that Lord Corlys Velaryon survive his wounds and fever, we gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark."
His grandfather's voice echoed loudly and clearly in the Throne Room as he stood before the Iron Throne. His family, minus Aerion and Daeron, stood near the throne, facing the other side of their divided kin. Opposite them stood Rhaenyra, Daemon, Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Rhaena. A scattering of other lords and ladies filled the room, but to Baelon, they hardly mattered.
"As Hand, I speak with the King's voice on this and all other matters."
He sat down on the Iron Throne.
"The crown will now hear the petitions."
Aegon looked around with a bored expression, clearly uninterested in the proceedings. Baelon knew that Aegon had no interest in politics and would rather be deep in his cups while fondling a servant than standing here. Next to him, Aemond's gaze was fixed intently on Jacaerys and Lucerys, mostly Lucerys if Baelon were to be honest. In stark contrast to Aemond, Helaena focused on the lords and ladies filling the room, likely because the entire situation made her uncomfortable, and she preferred not to look at the other side of her family.
Baelon reached for her hand to hold it, seeking to offer some comfort, but she quickly moved her hand out of his grasp. Deciding to leave her be, he turned his attention back to their grandfather.
"Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon and his sons Daeron and Daemion Velaryon." His grandfather called the Velaryons forward.
"My Queen."
Vaemond offered a small, perfunctory bow to Alicent, who stood beside Helaena. His sons mirrored his gesture, though with a slight delay that did not go unnoticed.
Vaemond chose to ignore his sons, turning his gaze to their grandfather as he straightened his back.
"My Lord Hand."
Their grandfather acknowledged him with a nod.
"The history of our noble houses extends beyond the Seven Kingdoms to the days of Old Valyria."
His eyes were solely focused on them, refusing to look at Rhaenyra's side.
"For as long as House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Velaryon has ruled the seas."
Everyone's eyes were on Vaemond, except Daeron, who was staring at Helaena. Baelon looked back and forth between the two, his curiosity piqued. Helaena was oblivious to Daeron's gaze, as much as Daeron was unaware of Baelon watching him.
"When the doom fell on Valyria, our houses became the last of their kind."
Baelon could see Lord Bartimos Celtigar visibly tense. It made sense. House Targaryen and House Velaryon both shared the ancient Valyrian blood, but they were not the only ones. House Celtigar was also an ancient and proud Valyrian house, an important one too. Lord Crispian Celtigar had even served as Aegon the Conqueror's master of coin. Baelon wondered if anyone else had noticed Bartimos's discomfort, but to him, it was clear as day. If it were up to him, he would have dismissed Vaemond's claim immediately. How could one aspire to be the Lord of the Tides if he could not properly remember the houses, especially one that shared the same blood as him?
"Our forebearers came to this new land, knowing that were they to fail, it would mean the end to their bloodlines and their name."
Daeron's staring was becoming quite annoying now. Surely, the boy could find more entertaining things to stare at. It wasn't like Baelon was jealous. No, it wasn't because of that. He was just… uncomfortable, in a way.
"I have spent my entire life on Driftmark, defending my brother's seat." Vaemond declared, turning his head towards their grandfather, Otto Hightower. "I'm Lord Crolys' closest kin, his own blood."
Otto nodded his head.
"The true, impeachable blood of House Velaryon runs through my and my sons' vein-"
"As it does in my sons, the offspring of Laenor Velaryon."
Vaemond tilted his head slightly, still refusing to look at Rhaenyra.
"If you cared so much about your house's blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir." Rhaenyra commented. "No, you only speak for yourself and for your own ambition-"
"You will have chance to make your own petition, Princess Rhaenyra." Alicent interjected. "Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard."
Aegon suddenly found interest in what was happening, turning his head to look right at Rhaenyra before smirking at her. Vaemond turned around to finally look at Rhaenyra, mirroring the smirk Aegon was wearing. Even Aemond's lips tipped upwards. The only one on their side of the family who remained unreactive was Helaena, her face impassive as she watched the scene unfold, still oblivious to Daeron's gaze.
"What do you know of Velaryon blood, Princess?"
It was Rhaenyra's turn to avoid Vaemond's gaze.
"I could cut my veins and show it to you and you still wouldn't recognise it" Vaemond tilted his head. "This is about the future and the survival of my house, not yours."
Vaemond took a long, lingering look at Lucerys, who recoiled slightly under his gaze. Satisfied with the boy's reaction, Vaemond stepped back and cast a glance at Alicent, before returning his gaze to Otto.
"My Queen, my Lord Hand. This is a matter of blood, not ambition"
Lucerys finally mustered the courage to meet Aemond's gaze, only to find Aemond staring back at him with unwavering intensity. Baelon, glancing at Lucerys with feigned disinterest, soon noticed Jacaerys also watching them. However, Jacaerys's attention seemed more focused on Baelon than Aemond.
"I place the continuation of the survival of my house and my line above all."
At that very moment, Daeron sneezed with an explosive force, sending a stream of snot splattering from his nose. Heads turned abruptly, the sudden noise pulling attention away from Vaemond. Daemion's muffled giggle was swiftly quelled by his father's sharp glare. Baelon couldn't help but smirk, a hint of satisfaction flickering in his eyes. If this was the calibre of Vaemond's line, he'd best start searching for a new heir. True, they were still children, but annoying children often become insufferable adults, and insufferable adults tend to lose their heads—or their tongues.
"I humbly put myself before you as my brother's successor." Vaemond slowly turned his attention back to Otto. "The Lord of Driftmark and Lord of the Tides."
"Thank you, Ser Vaemond."
Vaemond nodded curtly at Otto's words before striding over to his sons and positioning himself beside them, leaving the floor empty for Rhaenyra.
"Princess Rhaenyra, you may now speak for your son, Lucerys Velaryon."
Rhaenyra swiftly stepped forward, her gaze cutting through the room as she fixed her eyes first on Alicent and then on Otto.
"If I am to grace this farce with some answer, I will start by reminding the court that nearly 20 years ago, in this very–"
The sudden creak of the door swinging open cut through Rhaenyra's speech, drawing every eye to the new commotion. Two Kingsguards entered first with Viserys slowly walking behind them.
"King Viserys of House Targaryen,"
Viserys drew closer.
"the First of His Name,"
Closer.
"King of the Andals,"
Closer.
"And the Rhoynar,"
Otto slowly stood up from the Iron Throne.
"And the First Men,"
Otto had now completely stood up from the Iron Throne.
"Lord of the Seven Kingdoms,"
Everyone's gaze was focused on Viserys.
"And Protector of the Realm."
Viserys, with measured steps and the aid of his cane, made his way toward the Iron Throne. The assembled lords and ladies bowed their heads as he passed, his laboured breaths punctuating each step. Vaemond, his face a portrait of rising panic, cast a frantic glance toward Otto as he descended from the Iron Throne. Otto's response was a cold, unyielding glare before he turned his attention back to the ailing king.
Viserys paused momentarily before his daughter, his gaze laden with an unspoken guilt. Then, with a weary sigh, he made his way to Otto.
"I will sith the throne today."
"Your Grace." Otto inclined his head respectfully, his gaze steady. Viserys acknowledged the gesture with a weary nod and continued his slow, deliberate journey toward the Iron Throne, each step marked by the creak of his cane.
Viserys' legs finally betrayed him, buckling under the weight of his own frailty. The cane, once a mere aid, now seemed barely sufficient to support his failing strength. With a sudden lurch, he would have crumpled to the ground if not for the swift intervention of a Kingsguard. The guard's strong grip on Viserys' left arm steadied him, preventing a humiliating collapse.
"I will be fine."
The Kingsguard gave a respectful nod to Viserys' words and stepped aside, clearing the way for the ailing king to make his way up the stairs to the Iron Throne. Viserys managed to climb two steps before his legs faltered once more. He grasped the cane with a desperate strength, but the effort was in vain; his crown tumbled from his head, clattering onto the steps below with a sound that echoed through the hall.
Daemon went to pick Viserys' crown, his hand firmly grabbing it. Viserys used the last bit of his strength to hold Daemon's hands mid air.
"I said I'm fine."
Viserys turned, straining with the effort, to see who had retrieved his fallen crown. His eyes widened in surprise as he came face-to-face with Daemon, whose expression was calm and resolute.
"Come on."
Daemon motioned for Viserys to continue ascending the steps. He draped one arm around his brother's frail shoulders, holding the fallen crown in his other hand. Viserys' steps faltered for a moment before Daemon steadied him.
"Steady."
Viserys practically collapsed onto the Iron Throne when he finally reached it, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. The weight of his frailty was evident, each laboured breath echoing in the silent hall. Daemon, with a gentleness that seemed almost out of character, carefully placed the crown back on Viserys' head.
Daemon silently descended from the steps as Viserys tried to make himself comfortable on the Iron Throne. Each movement of his limbs seemed to draw fresh blood, the jagged edges of the throne cutting into his flesh. Viserys winced with each shift.
"I must… admit… my confusion," Viserys wheezed, each word a struggle. Blood dripped from his hands where the Iron Throne had cut him, but he paid it no mind. The hall was silent, everyone watching the king with a mix of reverence and concern.
"I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession."
Baelon noticed Alicent rolling her eyes, her exasperation barely concealed. He also caught the faint sound of Vaemond's scoff.
"The only one present," Viserys stopped himself for a moment to catch his breath, before continuing. "Who might offer keener insight into Lord Corlys's wishes is the Princess Rhaenys."
All eyes turned to Rhaenys, standing resolute beside her granddaughter, Baela. Baela's expression was sour, a scowl etched deeply on her face. Her gaze darted around the room, mostly fixed on Vaemond with a look of pure disdain. Occasionally, she glanced at Lucerys, and even then, the anger in her eyes did not wane.
"Indeed, Your Grace." She glanced at Vaemond before stepping forward.
"It was ever my husband's will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor to his true born son, Lucerys Velaryon." Rhaenys declared, her voice steady and unwavering. Lucerys, standing nearby, finally exhaled a sigh of relief, feeling the weight of her words lift a burden from his shoulders. "His mind never changed. Nor did my support of him."
"As a matter of fact," Rhaenys added. "The Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her sons Jace and Luke to Lord Corlys's granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena."
Vaemond's eyes widened in shock, his gaze darting from Rhaenyra, who met his astonished look with a smirk of cold satisfaction, to the assembled nobles. Alicent's eyes flicked to Aegon, before shifting to Jacaerys. Jacaerys, in turn, offered a soft smile to Baela, whose stern expression softened slightly at the sight of him.
"A proposal to which I heartily agree." Rhaenys continued.
Otto's gaze remained fixed on the floor, his face a mask of disbelief as he struggled to absorb the weight of Rhaenys's words. Alicent closed her eyes, her disappointment evident in the subtle shake of her head. Aegon's eyes darted between Baela and Jacaerys, a smirk tugging at his lips as he tried to stifle his laughter. His amusement was cut short as Baelon's foot deliberately landed on his, causing him to stifle a pained yelp.
"Again," Viserys said. "I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood Throne, and the next Lord of the Tides."
Viserys was practically out of breath after he finished his sentence.
Rhaenys moved to stand beside her granddaughter. Vaemond, meanwhile, hastened to her former position, his eyes fixed accusatory on Viserys.
"You break law and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir." He scoffed. "Yet you dare tell me…who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon."
"No." Vaemond declared, shaking his head vehemently as he beckoned his sons closer. Placing a hand on each of their shoulders. "I will not allow it."
"Allow it?" Viserys questioned. " Do not forget yourself, Vaemond."
Vaemond spun around abruptly, startling his sons, and pointed a trembling finger at Lucerys, whose pallor suggested he was teetering on the brink of a heart attack.
"That is no true Velaryon," He turned his face to look at Viserys. "And certainly no nephew of mine."
"Go to your chambers." Rhaenyra stepped in front of Lucerys, guarding him. "You have said enough."
"Lucerys is my true-born grandson." Viserys declared. It was clear that even this five word sentence was too much for him as he began to breathe aggressively after saying it. "And you…are no more than the second son of Driftmark."
"You may run your house as you see fit," Vaemond chided. "But you will not decide the future of mine."
"My house survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations besides."
"And gods be damned," His gaze was once again set on Lucerys. "I will not see it ended on the account of this–"
"Say it." Daemon softly goaded.
Vaemond's smirk curled as he cast a challenging glance toward Daemon. As Viserys' breathing grew laboured, the room's focus only tightened on Vaemond. Baelon's eyes darted between Daeron and Daemion. Both looked on the brink of losing their composure, as if they might soil themselves at any moment. Baelon knew Vaemond's obstinacy would exact a toll; he just hoped it would be Daeron's head or tongue that paid the price. The boy's nosiness deserved nothing less.
"Her children…" Vaemond's smirk turned into a scowl. "...are bastards!"
Viserys leaned closer toward Vaemond, his frail body straining with every inch. Baelon knew that if the gods were to restore Viserys's strength, the old man would leap from the throne and slaughter Vaemond on the spot—and maybe Daeron next, though that was beside the point.
Jacaerys, his nose now healed, glared daggers at Vaemond, his frustration palpable. He clearly wanted to throttle Vaemond but managed to restrain himself, much to Baelon's chagrin. Lucerys darted his gaze between his mother and Vaemond with fear etched on his face.
Daeron and Daemion, however, offered the most outstanding reactions. Daeron had soiled himself, and Daemion, his face twisted in mortification, fidgeted with his brother's stained trousers, further smearing the mess. Baelon knew that if circumstances were different, Aegon and he would find the situation uproarious, but even now, Aegon couldn't suppress his silent giggles at the Velaryon boys' misfortune.
"And she is a whore." Vaemond's voice rang out, each word enunciated with deliberate malice, drawing a collective gasp from the crowd.
"I…" Viserys struggled to rise from his throne, his breath ragged and his grip unsteady. With a laboured effort, he drew a knife from his cloak, the blade slick with blood from the wounds he had suffered earlier. "Will have your tongue for that."
Sadly, Daemon's blade was swifter than Viserys's resolve. In a single, brutal arc, Daemon sliced through Vaemond's neck, severing his head in a gruesome diagonal cut. Vaemond's tongue, however, remained defiantly in place. The crowd gasped collectively, a shiver of horror rippling through the assembly. Helaena clapped her hands over her ears while Alicent tried to comfort her, holding her arms tightly. Aemond instinctively stepped Aegon, usually so indifferent, looked on with wide eyes, his usual smirk wiped away. Lucerys's mouth hung open in disbelief as he watched Vaemond's lifeless body collapse to the floor.
The only thing Baelon could manage was to fixate on Daeron and Daemion. Just moments ago, he'd hoped Viserys would take Daeron's tongue for his father's audacity. But now, instead of losing a tongue, Daeron had lost his father. Did Baelon feel a pang of sympathy? Well…
"Uncle Daemon," Baelon said, raising his arm to point at Daeron. "I do believe we're still owed a tongue. Might I propose a volunteer?"
Alicent instantly hit Baelon's arm, prompting him to lower it. Helaena looked at him strangely. If Aemond was also disturbed by his suggestion, he didn't show it. Aegon, as usual, just snickered. Jacaerys and Lucerys both stared at him as if he had been the one to slice Vaemond's head. Daeron quickly hid behind his brother, who in turn puffed his chest out, trying to shield him from Daemon.
Daemon cast a quick glance at the sons of the man he just killed before looking back to Baelon, still smiling.
"They can keep their tongues."
So that's where he draws the line?
"Disarm him!"
"No need." Daemon slowly backed away as he cleaned the blood off his sword.
Viserys slumped back onto the throne, his ragged breaths and groans drawing everyone's attention. Alicent immediately moved away from them, rushing to his side.
"Call the maesters!"
"Father?"
Rhaenyra also followed suit, though she stopped short of ascending the throne's stairs.
"Please, my love." Alicent carefully embraced Viserys and tried to remove him from the throne. "You must take something for the pain."
"I will not cloud my mind." Viserys clung onto Alicent. "I must put things right."
A Kingsguard and Maester Orwyle rushed to Viserys' side. He dropped both arms onto their shoulders as they hurriedly guided him down the stairs and out of the throne room.
While everyone's eyes were on the king struggling for breath, Baelon and Daeron locked gazes. Daeron's tears mingled with snot, a pitiful, disgusting sight. Baelon's smile was pleasant, almost gentle, though it only deepened the boy's terror. Baelon relished the unease, savouring the way Daeron quivered. He wondered if the Velaryons would depart swiftly or linger a little more. Secretly, he hoped for the latter. A bit of alone time with Daeron could prove most…
Entertaining.
"Remind me again, why did mother ask us to dress in black?"
"To show amity, Baelon."
They were currently in their father's personal chambers. Apparently Viserys was so disgusted by what happened in the throne's room that he decided to make both sides of his family dine with him.
Mother had instructed all of them to wear black, something about demonstrating the closeness of their bonds and...well, Baelon hadn't been paying much attention to her words. His thoughts had been consumed by Daeron all day.
"Were you thinking about Daeron again?" Helaena asked. Her words were soft but her brows were furrowed
"What?! Absolutely not!" It was obvious Helaena did not believe him." Perhaps…"
"What is your problem with that poor kid? He's barely seven."
"It doesn't matter." Baelon assured. "How's Aerion?"
"Fine." She smiled. "He's getting more interested in my insectarium."
"Wonderful." His smile did not quite reach his eyes.
The door to the king's personal chambers swung open, and four guards entered, carrying Viserys in his chair. Helaena and Baelon quickly moved to their seats beside each other. Aegon and Aemond, who had been conversing prior, followed suit. Aegon settled next to Helaena, while Aemond took a seat at the end of the table near Baelon. Their nephews and cousins also found their places. Jacaerys positioned himself between Baela and Aegon, while Lucerys sat beside Rhaena at the opposite end of the table, facing Aemond. The guards carefully lowered Viserys' chair between Alicent and Rhaenyra.
"How good it is…to see you all tonight…together."
Viserys scanned the room, taking each person's face in. His eye lingered a few minutes more on Daemon and Rhaenyra, who were sitting next to each other, before Alicent's voice pulled him out of his trance.
"Prayer before we begin?"
"Yes."
Everyone except Daemon, Viserys, and Otto put their hands together. Some closed their eyes in silent prayer, while others kept their eyes open, their gazes fixed on different points in the room.
"May the Mother smile down on this gathering with love. May the Smith mend the bonds that have been broken for far too long. And to Vaemond Velaryon, may the gods give him rest."
"This is an occasion for celebration, it seems." Viserys commented after Alicent finished reciting the prayer. "My grandsons Jace and Luke, will marry their cousins, Baela and Rhaena, further strengthening the bonds between our houses."
Lucerys and Rhaena exchanged warm smiles, Jacaerys and Baela followed suit. Baelon, seated nearby, couldn't help but notice Aegon's gaze lingering on Baela. It struck him as odd; he had never known Aegon to show interest in Baela before.
"A toast to the young princes," Everyone around the table lifted their cups. "And their betrothed."
"Hear, hear!" Daemon added.
"Well done, Jace." Even though Baelon was one seat away from Aegon, he could still hear him whisper to Jacaerys. "You'll finally get to lie with a woman."
Aegon's comment earned him a sidelong glance from Baela.
"Let us toast as well to Prince Lucerys," Viserys smiled at Lucerys. "The future Lord of the Tides."
"Hear, hear." Rhaenyra added.
"Do you like Daeron?" Baelon asked after taking a small sip of his cup.
Helaena blinked, caught off guard. "Daeron?" she repeated, her brows knitting together in confusion. "Daeron Velaryon?"
Yes," Baelon confirmed, his tone casual but his gaze sharp. "Do you like him?"
"I mostly pity him." She replied while picking her nails. "Losing a father is always hard. Especially at such a young age."
"Eh, well, it was expected."
"It was a needless cruelty," she said. "As was your behaviour."
"I see," He replied thoughtfully. "I acted in haste, and for that, I offer my apologies."
Viserys abruptly rose from his seat, his frail form leaning heavily on his cane for support. Once he had managed to stand, he discarded the cane and grasped the edge of the table with white-knuckled grip. His weary gaze swept across the assembled faces before he spoke.
"It both gladdens my heart and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around the table. The faces most dear to me in all the world, yet grown so distant from each other, in the years past."
He cast a lingering glance around the table, then reached up to remove the golden half-mask that had concealed part of his face. With the mask now in his hand, his eyes locked onto Rhaenyra.
"My own face is no longer a handsome one," He moved his head to stare at the table in front of them, giving everyone a good view of his face. "If indeed it ever was."
Baelon struggled to describe the sight before him. He had known that his father's health had declined sharply, but the extent was horrifying. The right side of Viserys' face was a ghastly sight, half of it reduced to putrid, decaying flesh. His right eye was a hollow socket, starkly empty and cleaned out, while the skin on his cheek had been ravaged, leaving exposed muscle and sinew, as though a wild beast had torn through it.
"But tonight, I wish you to see me as I am.
"Not just a king," He skimmed over Baelon and his siblings. "But your father."
He looked at Daemon next.
"Your brother."
And then Alicent.
"Your husband."
He cast a glance at Jacaerys and then at Lucerys.
"And your grandsire."
"Who may not it seems," He looked downwards. "Walk for much longer among you."
He dropped the fork he was holding.
"Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our heart. The crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided."
Viserys struck the table with his two fingers, making it tremble.
"But set aside your grievances." He looked around. "If not for the sake of the crown, then for the sake of this old man who loves you all so dearly."
Seeing no one rise to challenge him, Viserys eased himself back into his chair with Alicent's help.
Rhaenyra rose abruptly, her cup held aloft.
"I wish to raise my cup to Her Grace, the Queen." Rhaenyra and Alicent's gazes met as Alicent fastened the golden mask on Viserys. "I love my father. But I must admit that no one has stood… more loyally by his side than his good wife."
"She has tended to him with," Her eyes darted between the foods on the table, looking for words. "unfailing devotion, love, and honour."
"And for that, she has my gratitude," Her eyes once again met Alicent's. "And my apology."
She sat down just as quickly as she had stood up.
Alicent adjusted her posture in her chair, her gaze shifting momentarily as she sought the right words.
"Your graciousness moves me deeply, Princess."
Daemon leaned forward, looking at Alicent as if he was the intended recipient of her words.
"We are both mothers and we love our children." She said, "We have more in common than we sometimes allow."
"I raise my cup to you and to your house." Alicent held her cup firmly, rising to her feet with the same solemnity Rhaenyra had shown. "You will make a fine queen."
As the others began to sip from their cups, Alicent settled back into her seat. Aegon, as always, downed his drink in a single gulp and rose from his place. He drifted between Baela and Jacaerys, refilling his cup. Baelon suspected that Aegon's actions went beyond mere refilling. As Aegon drifted past Jacaerys to reclaim his chair, Jacaerys abruptly stood and slammed his fist onto the table.
Aemond rose from his seat, his imposing figure casting a shadow over Jacaerys from across the table. Jacaerys, sensing the tension but not seeking further conflict, picked up his cup and gave Aegon a gentle tap on the shoulder. He then turned to Baelon and Aemond, offering them a strained smile.
"To Prince Aegon, Prince Baelon and Prince Aemond." He said. "We have not seen each other in years, but I have fond memories of our shared youth. And as men, I hope we may yet be friends and allies."
He bowed his head.
"To you and your family's good health, dear uncles."
"To you as well."
Kacaerys gave Aegon's shoulder a light, almost playful punch before settling back into his seat. Aemond remained standing. It wasn't until their mother's firm urging that he finally lowered himself into his chair.
"Beware the beast beneath the boards." Helaena whispered to Baelon.
"Huh?"
Baelon was certain he'd heard Viserys saying something, but the exact words eluded him. His attention was wholly occupied with Helaena
Helaena did not respond to him. Instead, she lifted her cup and stood from her seat, her warm smile directed at Baela and Rhaena.
"I would like to toast to Baela and Rhaena." The Targaryen girls both smiled at her. "They'll be married soon."
"It isn't so bad," Baelon quirked his eyebrow. "For the most part, it's bearable. Except when he decides a boy's tongue should be cut out simply for casting a glance your way."
Helaena sat down, her smile lingering, while Otto let out a scattered laugh at her toast. The Velaryon side of the family stared at him, their eyes boring into his soul. Baelon felt a pang of discomfort so sharp that he almost wished he could vanish on the spot.
"What was that?!" He asked Helaena, who merely shrugged
Baelon turned his gaze to his cup, lost in thought for a moment. After a moment's contemplation, he grasped the cup and rose from his seat. Clearing his throat, he prepared to speak.
"To Prince Jacaerys, Prince Lucerys, and their betrotheds, Princess Baela and Princess Rhaena." Baelon smiled, raising his cup. "May your unions be both happy and fruitful. I hope we can be great allies and friends in the days to come."
Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Rhaena all smiled warmly in response as Baelon took his seat. The only one who showed a hint of reluctance was Baela. Alicent offered him an approving smile as well.
"Let us have some music." Viserys urged.
As the musicians began to play, Jace and Baela rose from their seats and started dancing, their movements graceful and fluid. The others dined happily, servants bustling about with trays of new dishes. However, not everyone shared in the merriment. Aemond sat, deep in thought, his gaze distant. Aegon, meanwhile, watched Baela and Jace with a longing expression, his eyes following their every move as they danced around each other.
"What's the matter, Aegon?" Baelon joshed. "Looking for a dance partner?"
"No," Aegon replied, his gaze still fixed on Baela and Jace. "I'm content with just watching."
"Is that so?"
"Yes," Aegon said, shifting his gaze from the dancing pair to Baelon. "Unless you want to volunteer as my dance partner?"
"You know I am a terrible dancer, brother."
"So am I."
"Ah, what to do?" Baelon replied, his voice dripping with feigned desperation. "Perhaps Helaena could teach us how to dance?"
"Funny." Helaena responded. "Figure it out yourselves"
"Don't be so cruel, Helaena." Aegon joked, leaning back with a grin. "Remember the time I helped you catch a caterpillar?"
"I don't recall you ever doing something nice for me."
"Well, we can start from tonight. You help me, I help you. Sounds fair to me."
"I'll consider it."
"No need." Aemond interjected. "I will show them how to properly dance."
"You know how to dance?" Baelon asked
"Yes."
"Just to clarify," Aegon said with a smirk, "when we say 'dance,' we mean what the little prince and his new bride are doing." He pointed at Jace and Baela, twirling gracefully. "Not the sort of dance you and Ser Criston do, which involves far more sharp objects."
Aemond did not dignify Aegon's jape with a response, merely turning his head to cast a cold gaze upon Lucerys once more.
"Guards." Alicent commanded, motioning for the nearby guards to come and lift Viserys in his chair as he struggled to breathe once more. Some of the attendants rose from their seats in concern, but Alicent urged them to remain seated. As the guards moved Viserys out of the room, the servants brought in a large roasted pig, placing it right in front of Aemond.
At the sight of the roasted pig set before Aemond, Lucerys, who sat directly across from him, couldn't help but stifle a snicker. The sound, though subdued, was enough to draw Aemond's ire. Aemond slammed his fist onto the table, rattling dishes and cups. He seized his cup with a tight grip and rose from his seat.
"Final tribute." His voice grabbed everyone's attention. "To the health of my nephews, Jace," He looked at Jacaerys, "Luke," Then at Lucerys. "And Joffrey."
"Each of them handsome, wise…" Aemond let the words hang in the air, drawing the room into tense anticipation. "Strong."
"Aemond—" Alicent's voice cut through the rising tension, an attempt to curb her son's outburst. Yet Aemond, undeterred, spoke over her.
"Come," he urged, his voice commanding as he raised his own glass higher, beckoning his siblings to do the same. "Let us drain our cups to these three Strong lads."
"I dare you to say that again." Jacaerys and Baela had completely stopped dancing now.
"Why?" Aemond said, advancing toward Jacaerys, who met him halfway. They stood facing one another. " 'Twas only a compliment. Do you not think yourself Strong?"
Jacaerys's fist connected with Aemond's face.. At the same moment, Aegon grabbed Lucerys and slammed his head onto the table with a brutal force. Baela and Rhaena, witnessing the chaos, sprang to their feet to protect their betrotheds. Baelon, instinctively rising to join the fray, was sharply halted by a glance from his mother, who commanded him to remain by Helaena's side.
Aemond retaliated by shoving Jacaerys with such force that he tumbled to the ground. Fortunately, the guards swiftly intervened, restraining both Jacaerys and Lucerys. Aemond, with a smug expression, stood over them, relishing the moment. Aegon ceased his aggression when Baela pushed him away. Seizing the opportunity, Alicent hurried to Aemond's side.
"Why would you say such a thing before these people?"
"I was merely expressing how proud I'm of my family, mother." He began advancing towards Jacaerys and Lucerys. "Though it seems my nephews aren't quite as proud of theirs."
Both boys broke free from the guards' grip and charged at Aemond with reckless speed. Just as they closed in, Daemon sprang to his feet, positioning himself firmly between them and Aemond. His presence was a formidable barrier, halting their advance with an authoritative stance.
"Wait, wait!" Daemon, with a commanding gesture, urged the boys to retreat several paces.
"Go to your quarters." Rhaenyra commanded. "All of you go, now."
The guards escorted Jacaerys, Lucerys and Aegon to their chambers.. Daemon and Aemond faced off. The tension between them was evident, but Daemon's unwavering gaze proved enough to quell Aemond's fury. He sent Aemond to his quarters, the tension easing only when Aemond's retreating figure exited through the door.
Alicent urgently went to talk with Rhaenyra, though their voices were too muffled for Baelon to hear.
"I'm a bit tired." Baelon muttered to Helaena. "Shall we head back?"
"If you wish so."
"You can stay if you want."
"It's fine."
Balon nodded, not wanting to continue this matter further. He offered his hand for Helaena to hold, which Helaena reluctantly accepted as they exited the room.
"And then the spider ate the fly!"
"That's really interesting, Aerion." Baelon yawned. "Don't you want to sleep?"
"No."
Fifteen minutes ago, if someone had told Baelon that he'd be ambushed by his own son in his own chambers, he'd have laughed in their face. Aerion was always with his nurse; there was no way the boy could be in his chambers. Or so he thought. But here he was, Aerion having begged his nurse to let him spend time with his parents, and now Baelon had to endure an impromptu lecture about bugs.
"You must take to your bed early, if you wish to grow into a man as big and strong as your father."
"But Father is neither strong nor big."
"Your eyes must still be growing then. You've yet to see the world clearly."
"I don't care," Aerion said, sticking his tongue out. "I want to be like Mother anyway."
Baelon could hear the faint sound of Helaena's giggle as she stood near the window of the chamber.
"You have to sleep if you want to be like mother as well."
"Aw," Aerion groaned. "What if I want to be like someone who doesn't sleep?"
"Everyone needs to sleep."
"Even dragons?"
"Even dragons."
"That's bad." He yawned. "I don't want to sleep."
"Are you sure?" Baelon snickered. "You seem tired."
"I'm not!"
"If you sleep now," Helaena interjected, walking over to the bed with a gentle smile. "Father promises he'll find new insects from the yard for you tomorrow."
"Really?"
Baelon's expression soured, his eyes flicking to Helaena. Helaena narrowed her eyes and pointed to Aerion, silently insisting. With a resigned sigh, Baelon turned back to his son.
"Really."
Note:
Heyyy
Sorry for the long wait. I broke my left arm after publishing my 2nd chapter so I had to type the entirety of this chapter with my right hand which took twice the time it usually would. I was also busy with school works.
I don't know if Baelon marrying before Aegon actually makes sense. I tried to search about it but I couldn't find a single source that said younger sons had to wait for their older brothers to marry before marrying so I just went with it. I'm sorry if this doesn't make that much sense, I tried to make it as accurate as possible but I feel like I still fell short in some parts.
I hope you enjoy!