Chapter 48: Wisdom of the Dead
"Hello?"
It made no sense, none of it did. The last Baelon Targaryen could remember was the pain, the sensation of cold and wet down to his very bones. Staring at the stormy sky while the muffled sounds of a scuffle felt faint to his ears, and yet…
The sun was warm. The breeze was lovely. The scent of flowers and chirping of birds delighted his ears in their tranquility, joined by the gurgling of gently flowing water. He turned his head all around, taking in the beauty of the lush green, the colorful pallet of flowers as if from an artist's brush - the plump spheres of fruit hanging from the trees, ready to be plucked and devoured.
Seven Hells, he didn't even feel in pain. Yanking up the light tunic he wore - for he wore nothing of his princely finery, just a simple red tunic and black trousers along with his boots - Jon found not even a scar on his abdomen. "Alright, I'm dead," he muttered to himself. It sunk in. "I'm dead."
Dead.
The flood of emotions threatened to overwhelm him, but a noise in the distance caught his attention. Why? Why would he - in the midst of mourning being yanked away from everyone he loved - be easily distracted by an errant noise? Baelon never asked the question, important as it was. Instead he began to walk along the grass, between the trees and shrubbery towards it.
"Hello?"
No response.
"Hello?!" he called louder.
Again no response, but the sounds were growing louder. Happy sounds. Giggling laughter and hushed murmurs, coming from behind a thicket of flowering bushes. He shoved aside the leaves and brambles to come across the source.
A man and a woman - the man leaned back against a tree, strumming a fiddle much as Jon's kepa did with his lyre, while the woman clapped her hands and giggled. She had lustrous golden hair that matched her thin gown, while her companion sported a black tunic and trousers with the sigil of House Targaryen upon them. Made sense, given his silver hair. Jon figured he looked much like his kepa, only a bit thinner. A lean build, like Viserys, or even himself.
They were lovers, from the way the woman leaned in to kiss the man. Passionate ones, at that.
Eventually the man's eyes fell on Jon, too late to bolt for the undergrowth even if he wanted to. "Seems we have a visitor, Jo."
Busy kissing his neck, the woman pulled back and looked up at Jon, a smile spreading on her face. "Gods, he's just as handsome as his father was."
"Lot of his grandmother in him too," the man said, "And that's a very good thing." Setting down the fiddle, he stood up, wiping his trousers off. "It is a great pleasure to meet you, Baelon Targaryen."
Jon blinked. "You know my name?"
The man smiled to his lover. "Of course. I've been watching you all your life - with pride, of course." He took some steps forward, reaching out to pat Jon's shoulder. "The best of all of us, all of you are. Rhaegar's children - and your aunts."
"So you're a Targaryen?" Jon didn't recognize him, recollecting the paintings of his ancestors from Dragonstone and the Red Keep. "Which one?"
He chuckled, turning to his lover again. "Let's see if he can figure it out, Jo." She nodded, biting her lip in mirth.
Jon narrowed his eyes, thinking. "I want to say Aegon the Conqueror… but no." The man's face gave away nothing. "Jaehaerys the Wise?" A shake of the head. "Aemon the Spring Prince."
"I'm afraid not."
Alright then. "Daemon the Rogue Prince."
A snort from the woman. "I wish. He's a dream."
Rolling his eyes, the man squeezed Jon's shoulder. "Closer to home, actually." He took a deep breath. "I'm your grandfather, Aerys."
His eyes widened, Jon tensing as he tried to look around for avenues of escape. "Baelon, no." The woman ran to his side, crouching till her lovely face was eye to eye with him - not much was needed, given how much he'd grown in the past years. "Do not be afraid."
"And who are you to say that, from what he's done?" His grandfather winced at that, averting his gaze with a look of shame.
The woman, on the other hand, smiled. "Your grandmother's best friend, Joanna Lannister."
Now that was something unexpected. "Lord Tywin's wife?"
"In another life, yes." Joanna reached out and took Aerys' hand, squeezing it.
"So the rumors were true, then."
Aerys shrugged. "In part… you'll find, Baelon, that most highborn marriages aren't done out of love. Your kepa's generation changed the trend."
Jon remembered Lord and Lady Arryn, how unhappy they were - Lady Arryn's shrewish attitude and how Lord Arryn compensated in the beds of whores and smallfolk girls. "And why shouldn't I be afraid, Lady Joanna?" His eyes flickered to Aerys warily. "I never knew him, but my sister Rhaenys did… the stories she and many others told me were sanitized, but I know there was more. Far worse."
Joanna bit her lip, turning to look at Aerys. Baelon's grandfather merely sighed. "I do not deny anything, nor that the blame lies ultimately with me." Jon raised a brow. "But please listen to me when I say that there is far more than meets the eye."
"It's true, Baelon, I promise."
Mayhaps Jon would've disbelieved Aerys, but Joanna seemed trustworthy, and to tell the truth he was curious. "Fine." He sighed himself. "If the two of you are before me, then I am dead."
Aerys nodded. "You are dead."
He closed his eyes. "I was afraid of that."
"But you are not meant to be, at least not now." Jon opened them, finding his grandfather smiling. It looked like a mirror of his kepa's smile. "Treachery and greed led you here, but the gods intended it, as with the lessons you will receive."
"Treachery? What treachery?"
"The gods intend to reveal such at the right moment to the right person, someone of our blood dearest Baelon, but your task is different."
"But I am dead… wait, am I going to live?" How did one survive from an arrow to the side?
Kneeling before Jon, Aerys grabbed his shoulders. "Listen to me, grandson, for there isn't much time left. I have seen you become great. Hatching dragons and bonding with the greatest creature since Balerion was just the start, and glory follows in your wake… but those that fly too close to the sun shall only burn."
Hearing such words… these were not the ranting of a monster, but the pleas of a grandfather. Silent, Jon only nodded his head.
Aerys continued. "If you are to take any lesson from me and my mistakes, I hope that it be this…" He cleared his throat. "Greatness is something one must aspire to, something one must want even if they are gifted. You and I, we are alike in that way. Just as you were, I read the great tales of our past. Studied our wondrous deeds and learned from our mistakes. Just as you, I dreamed of bringing us to new heights. To solving the problems that plagued us."
Jon looked upon his grandfather mournfully. "How did it go so wrong, grandfather?"
Aerys sighed. "Our ancestor, Jaehaerys, he achieved great things not just by himself but with others. His wife, Alysanne, his Hand, Barth, two of many. I was blind to this." A wince. "My brother, Tywin… he was smarter than me in a lot of ways and instead of relying on him as my right arm I grew jealous. Resentful even, of everyone, and it made me susceptible for something dark - something that sought to destroy me."
"Who?"
"That doesn't matter… all that does is you never let that affect you. Do not be too trusting, but always surround yourself by those you trust. By those you love, and who love you in return. Promise me that."
He swallowed. "I promise, grandfather."
A soft smile on his face, Aerys cupped his cheek and kissed his forehead. "You are going to be the best of all of us, I know it." Rising, he took Joanna's hand. "I better not cut into her time, she can be a bit dramatic."
Joanna giggled. "That's for sure."
Leading her to the path along the stream, Aerys looked over his shoulder, "Tell your sister that I'm sorry, and that I love her."
"I will, grandfather." With that, he was gone.
It turned out that the afterlife wouldn't leave Jon alone for too long, for barely half a minute since his grandfather had departed did the branches rustle behind him. "Who's there?"
Someone whistled. "Did Aerys cue you in?" Out emerged a statuesque woman. She appeared about his muna's age, but of Valyrian features. Her hair wasn't silver but a very light gold, and her eyes were a mix of purple and turquoise green. "If he didn't, I'd have a word with him."
The slightly crooked nose - the only feature marring such an athletic beauty - was one Jon recognized. "Princess Alyssa." Daughter of Jaehaerys and Alysanne, wife of the one he was named after. Mother of Viserys I and Daemon the Rogue Prince. He bowed. "It is a pleasure to meet you, great-grandmother."
Alyssa Targaryen clicked her tongue. "Mmm-hmm, Baelon Targaryens are always gorgeous." She was quite tall for a woman, even a Targaryen warrior woman - while Daenerys and his grandmother were rather petite, Rhaenys was taller than he, and Jon had always imagined women like Visenya and Rhaenys the Queen who never was to be giants compared to most ladies. Her stride was long, and she reached him. "A born fighter, and one with his heart in the right place."
A shrug. "Look where it got me," Jon remarked morosely… only to get a smack upside the head. "Hey!"
"Don't denigrate yourself," Alyssa scolded, folding her arms together. "We've all seen from here just how far House Targaryen fell since it lost the dragons, but mayhaps I'm one of the few to see how the women of the family have been treated just like any other noble house." She rolled her eyes. "When we had dragons we ensured fair treatment, but raised as common Andals our men lost their respect for mutual dragonriders."
Jon scratched the back of his neck. "My munas aren't dragonriders, but they taught me to respect the women of my family… but what does that have to do with anything."
Alyssa pinched his cheek, making him wince - to her giggle. "Because, dear Baelon, you risked your life to save your aunt… after a lifetime of treating her and your sisters and your cousins with nothing but respect and care. So many in our house, and other highborn houses, wouldn't have bothered." She beamed. "You're a good man, much like the one for which you were named.
He blushed a bit - to have the first rider of the legendary Meleys praise him was rather flattering. Rhaenys would be so jealous. "I try my best… but my best wasn't good enough I suppose." A flash of hurt crossed Alyssa's face, and it made him feel guilty.
"You've been through a lot, young great-grandson," she remarked. Beckoning him to lay next to her, Jon hesitated… but a loving smile from his ancestor convinced him. Alyssa's arms were around him almost immediately, cuddling him to her form much as his own munas would. "If I could, I'd spend eternity trying to ease the pain in your heart, but this time we have together will do." She kissed the crown of his head. "One is never too old to seek a mother's love." Alyssa tousled Jon's mop of curls. "I hear praise is in order, sweet Baelon."
Jon raised his brow, though didn't leave the embrace. Slender as she was, Alyssa's body was warm and soft. "Praise for what? Dying?"
She snorted. "You shan't be dead much longer, sweetling, so shut it." Alyssa chucked his chin, but then kissed the brow of his head. "Gaining the love of two gorgeous ladies."
"Oh." While proud of having Dany and Sansa's love and affection, he happened to blush regardless. Just like when he told his parents of it. "I still can't believe I did that."
"And why not? You're a delightful, handsome boy." Alyssa's mismatched eyes sparkled with mirth. "I mean, if I were alive and as young as you…"
"Please, great-grandmother, enough."
Alyssa groaned. "Please, I'm not old enough to be a great-grandmother."
That jape settled him a bit. Dispatching the awkwardness. Alyssa reminded Jon of his muna, carefree, loving, and fun while with that fierce steel underneath. Truly it was something he was comfortable in dealing with. "No… it's just… I can't believe I summoned the gumption to actually go and confess my love." He sighed. "Had it not been for my cousin Ari, I never would've known the hints they gave me… or even if I did love them that way."
"Ah." She leaned her head back. "You're just like the one you were named for. I could see how my Baelon stared at me when he thought I wasn't looking, but never understood my come hither looks." She snorted. "He was oblivious that way, so one day I tackled him like always, but instead of simply gloating when I pinned him I kissed him instead." Alyssa grinned. "First time I ever wrestled in the nude."
"Alright, enough." Her giggle at his blanch eventually made him chuckle. Aye, exactly like his muna. "Is it problematic, though? That I love them both?"
"Is it for your parents?"
"Well… no, but…"
"But nothing. Sometimes there are times where you need to second guess love you hold for another, but the mere fact you do love another isn't the reason." She looked at him in the eye. "I learned this when I came here, but Maegor's mistake wasn't in marrying three… we are dragons. Every reason why we did so in the past still holds true today… especially for what is coming."
Jon blinked. "What is coming, great-grandmother?"
She was silent for a moment. "We don't have time to discuss that, and it is not something you are ready for now." Vague, but Alyssa wouldn't say more on the subject. "I assume Aerys said that we don't have much time?"
"He mentioned it."
A nod. "I've already said that respecting the women in your life is important… they are underestimated by many, and will thus both be overlooked until it is too late by your foes and will work all the harder to accomplish their tasks." That description matched Daenerys and Sansa to the letter, as well as Rhaenys. "But any one of us, my muna, my grandmother, my great-grandmothers, could've told you this. Allow me to share some advice personal to my heart."
Jon met her eyes. "Please share, great-grandmother."
Alyssa smiled at him. "My husband and I loved each other desperately, and we loved our children. Viserys was kind and able to please anyone, while Daemon was simply a fighter from the moment he was born… and yet my death led them to difficult fates. Daemon's in his own personality and bitterness, while Viserys allowed himself to be led astray in his own need for a loving family."
"You can't blame yourself for your death, great-grandmother."
"I know, but death can happen to all of us. Baelon was so devoted to me, he never allowed himself to move on. Once that happened, Viserys and Daemon had no one to give them the gentle advice of a mother… and it led them astray. They needed their family…" a tear passed down her cheek. "Mayhaps if I had drawn them closer to their aunts and uncles, the fates of my siblings could've been avoided." She kissed his cheek, stroking it as if she was his muna. "Always be close to your family… always make sure you love them and they love you, or else your family may tear itself apart when confronted with the allure of absolute power."
"I will… I promise."
Alyssa ruffled his hair again. "Good boy."
Cuddled with his great-grandmother, Jon's guard was down. Not noticing the new arrival till he cleared his throat. "Can I get on this hug?"
Jon looked up, blinking at the light. He focused on the figure standing over them. He was… quite well built. Not muscular but not skinny either - like his own kepa, toned and strong. A hand rested on a sword, and it looked rather relaxed like someone who knew exactly what to do with it. Long silver hair fell down his shoulders, and his purple eyes shone with an arrogant glint.
Alyssa rolled her eyes. "You've had plenty of hugs from plenty of us, Daemon." Daemon? The Rogue Prince? He certainly had the look. "And plenty of quite hungry female attention, but this is for the comfort of young Baelon here."
"Ah, right." Daemon smirked. "To the descendent of Daeron's brood… though for the life of me I never expected humorless Maekar to continue the line. Better than book mite Aerys taking it."
"All this time and you still have a grudge? A bit pathetic?"
"I've got a grudge against anyone that bashes their brother's skull in a tourney." He rolled his shoulders, looking bored. "But the Celestial Lady says that it's my time to talk to Baelon, and we all know he doesn't have time."
Alyssa sighed and - much to Jon's displeasure - broke the embrace. They both rose, Jon first to help Alyssa up. "A gentleman." She kissed his forehead. "My Baelon is so proud of his namesake… don't ever forget who is in your corner, sweetling."
"I won't, great-grandmother."
Smiling, she began to walk away, shooting the newcomer a cross expression on the way out. He chuckled. "Showoff." Crossing his arms, the smirk stayed on his lips as he leaned on a tree. "I mean I get it. So was I back in the day."
"I thought the Rogue Prince didn't care what other people thought of him."
His brow rose. "Is that who you think I am? I mean I'm flattered, but I thought this would give it away."
Gaze falling on the black dragon on Daemon's red tunic, Jon felt quite embarrassed. "Daemon Blackfyre… gods, I'm an idiot."
"Don't beat yourself up," Daemon laughed. "My muna pretty much had a perfect name picked out, given how much we resemble ourselves… I just happened to be more 'classically handsome' according to the Realm's Delight."
"Charmed, for sure." Baelon awkwardly looked up at the world's most infamous bastard. One of the most successful ones, that is. "Who's the 'Celestial One?'"
"Her? Oh, that's what I call her. She's the head of the family according to the gods." He looked up at the sky. "Daenys the Dreamer's what they call her. The one who saved us all… who made us the gods on earth, but I never got to experience it thanks to our ancestors. Funny, huh?" Daemon knocked him on the shoulder. "But you do, though. I am jealous."
"Cannot say the same." Jon scowled. "You turned against our house?"
"Did I?"
"Five separate wars say you did."
Daemon sighed. "Bittersteel… Aegor had a chip on his shoulder, and I encouraged it I'm afraid."
Jon snorted. "That's your response? To blame it on him?"
"The last three were his fault, objectively. And the last… even I would've rooted against that demon from my seed." He seemed to notice Jon's skeptical glare. "You don't believe me, do you."
"I doubt your sincerity, yes."
Daemon pursed his lips. "Guess I have my work cut out for me." There was a pregnant pause. "How many times were you called a bastard to your face?"
That came out of nowhere. "Never."
A snort. "Believe me, they say it behind closed doors and raised drawbridges… at least in certain corners." He reached down to the ground and picked up a rock, tossing it idly in the air. "They said the same of my half-brother. Daeron 'the Good.' Frankly, I believe that aunt Naerys slipped into uncle Aemon's bed. Wouldn't blame her though. Kepa was an asshole. His foes would call him a bastard, our father included… they'd call me a bastard too, but I was used to it."
"And how is this relevant to me, Blackfyre?"
"Oh, you sweet summer child." Daemon shook his head, pushing off the tree and circling Jon. "You were born with everything, in a time of… I suppose relative peace, enforced by dragonfire."
"Peace? You call being nearly killed by an Ironborn raid peace?"
"Relative, peace… any Realm as large as that of ours will have war sometime. Maekar was killed in a rebellion of House Peake of all places." Jon had to give him that. "But you're the golden prince, never knowing that many likely call you bastard for the circumstances of your birth. Of your kepa's marriage, and of how you usurped your older brother."
"I never did that."
"But everything is a matter of perception." Daemon tossed the rock at the stream, and it exploded in a splash. "The three eldest sons of Rhaenyra Targaryen, officially the trueborn heirs to the Iron Throne. Declared so by the King… and yet why was their claim challenged?"
Jon gulped. "Because they were seen as not Laenor Velaryon's sons."
Daemon clapped him on the shoulder. "Exactly. Seen as bastards. None of them were silver of hair, or purple of eye… none of them looked Targaryen, but they looked like Harwin Strong. Whereas I look like I am. Act like I am… people saw Aegon the Conqueror in me, so I got support where I shouldn't have gotten any, while Jacaerys Velaryon got opposition where he shouldn't have gotten any." Daemon pointed a finger at his chest. "Perception, young Baelon. Perception is everything. You can't just be the Crown Prince, you have to look the Crown Prince. Look the King, and claim it for yourself."
"Even by betraying my family as yourself."
A sad smile. "Who says it was me that betrayed Daeron first?" He turned away, staring into the light. "All in the eye of the beholder, Baelon. All in the eye of the beholder - if you can see through the eyes of those around you… you will win." The light grew brighter and brighter, slowly at first but suddenly starting to envelop all. "Remember that, boy. And good fucking luck!"
Jon's world disappeared into the flash of light.
Gasping, Baelon tried to jerk upright, only for an intense pain to overcome him. His side hurt, his chest hurt… everything hurt, seizing him in agony as he groaned and tried to move his sluggish arms to the sources of the pain.
"No," a soft voice murmured, gentle hands pressing against his chest and shoulder to ease him down. "Don't move, please."
"Cold," he had managed to croak, voice hoarse. "So… cold…" Everything had suddenly become cold. Gone was the light streaming through the canopy, and the waterlogged boots and smallclothes. He felt something soft covering his lower body, and a toasty warmth surrounding him, but it didn't matter. Baelon still felt cold.
A cup soon touched his lips, steam wafting off of it. "Here, drink this." Jon opened his mouth, feeling a hot, semi-sweet liquid spreading across his tongue and down his gullet. It felt wonderful. "Do you feel better?"
Jon slowly blinked his eyes open. His vision was a blur, but what he could make out was a kindly face… Yi Tish, confusingly enough. Large almond-shaped eyes, rosy, alabaster cheeks, and a kindly smile focused upon him. She was a little older than him for sure as more detail came to him as he continued to sip at the hot liquid, but each sip eased the weight on his chest - the pain in his side. "Aye," he nodded, trying to sit up again, finding some of the strength.
"You don't have to sit up, my Prince." The voice was an older one, though no less gentle than the girl his age offering him the drink. "Please, rest. You need it after what happened."
Taking a deep breath after swallowing the last of… what he figured was tea after swilling it a bit, Jon layed down again. A pillow was behind him, soft. A low light came from the hearth, illuminating a single-chamber cabin of log walls and a wooden plank roof. Better kept than most smallfolk dwellings.
Concentrating on his surroundings, he only noticed after a moment that the girl was now staring at him with wide eyes. "Prince?"
"Hai, the Prince." The clunk of a cane upon the floor came from behind Jon. "Who did you think he was?"
"I just…" She averted her gaze to the floor from Jon, mumbling something in a strange language that Jon wasn't familiar with.
The other one… he assumed the girl's father, spoke back in the language, partly something calm and then a barked command. Jon then felt a thick, warm pelt draped over his body - from his feet to just below his shoulders. "It is an honor, my Prince, for you to grace us with your presence." His accent was present, one familiar from the traders and sailors of the Yi Tish Jon had heard in Lys on occasion, but otherwise his Common Tongue was perfect. "I am Hoon Ti, and this is my daughter Reiko Sand."
So I was right. Jon shivered underneath the pelt. "It is… nice to meet you two." He cleared his throat as best he could, feeling his throat hurt with each swallow. "Prince Baelon… of House Targaryen…"
"Would've been far better under kinder circumstances, but in a way, these are the best." Hoon Ti squeezed Jon's shoulder. "Life, it is precious."
While Reiko moved to a pot bubbling over the fire, Hoon had reached Jon's field of vision. He was surprised. "You're blind."
The unseeing eyes nevertheless seemed to bore into his soul. "One does not need eyes to see." He chuckled softly. "Sleep, Baelon Targaryen. Save the trials of the world for the morrow, when you are stronger."
Mayhaps his will wished to forge ahead, but the call of a proper rest overwhelmed him, drawing him to the darkness again. This time knowing that it would only be temporary.
