Prince Baelon Targaryen POV
The wind off the cliffs of Runestone carried the brisk scent of salt, mingled with the fresh aroma of pine and the sharp tang of cold iron. Prince Baelon Targaryen, the heir to the Iron Throne, stood at the edge of the stone courtyard, his gaze fixed on the dragons swirling gracefully in the bright morning sky above the Vale. His crimson cloak billowed lightly behind him, fluttering in the chill breeze.
He had not wanted to depart from this place he had just come to cherish. Not yet. Not so soon after having met his grandsons, Robar and Aerion, whose bright laughter still echoed in his mind.
It was the younger boy, Aerion, who lingered in Baelon's thoughts more than the rest. There was something strikingly profound in the child's wide eyes that captivated him. Not merely the violet hue or the silvery hair—traits that were familiar and comforting—but rather the unsettling stillness, the inherent presence the child held. It felt as if the ancient blood of Old Valyria had emerged entirely pure and untouched within that innocent form.
Yet, the relentless call of duty pressed upon him. The King awaited news of his visit, the court would surely have their inquiries, and there would be whispers—a cacophony of rumors—that needed to be addressed. With a resigned breath, Baelon set about making his farewells, walking alongside his mother one last time through the hall where Rhea now lay, resting peacefully with her sons, a poignant reminder of the weight of their legacy.
"Must you leave so soon?" Queen Alysanne inquired, her fingers resting gently on Baelon's forearm, a touch both tender and hesitant.
Baelon offered a small, regretful smile. "You know I have no choice. Father will demand every detail directly from me, and the Small Council will throw itself into chaos without some clear guidance."
She sighed and turned her gaze to the window, watching a lively bird dart through the bright sky. "Very well, but I won't be returning to court just yet. I plan to stay here until Lady Rhea is fully recovered. Once she is strong enough to travel, Daemon and I will personally escort them all to court."
Baelon raised an eyebrow in surprise. "You and Daemon?"
"Don't look so shocked," Alysanne replied with a sharp glance, the hint of a playful smile tugging at her lips. "He's already halfway wrapped around that child's finger. I trust him as a father far more than I ever did as a husband."
Her words elicited a soft chuckle from Baelon, who appreciated the lighthearted banter amidst the serious undertones of their conversation.
His mother's expression turned somber, the gravity of the moment settling in. "You must inform your father that I will be presenting Aerion Targaryen and Robar Royce at court within the next fortnight. He should ensure that royal quarters are prepared for the children alongside their wet nurses. And I expect their bedding to be adorned with dragonstone silk—nothing less than that will suffice."
"I will pass on your message," Baelon replied, bowing his head slightly in acknowledgment. "Though I must warn you, Father may raise an eyebrow at half of what you request."
"Let him," she responded resolutely, her determination unwavering.
King's Landing, Two Days Later
Baelon's return to the Red Keep was met with the familiar blend of formality and tension that often accompanied royal affairs. When he entered, King Jaehaerys was already settled in the solar, his presence looming over the long table where he perused a scroll, the parchment deftly unfurled before him. He didn't bother to glance up as Baelon approached; instead, he extended a hand, silently demanding the message his son carried.
"I have news," Baelon declared, his voice steady despite the weight of the moment.
Jaehaerys nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. "So I've heard. Twins," he replied, a hint of reluctance masking his curiosity.
Baelon stepped closer, positioning himself behind his father's shoulder, keenly aware of the gravity of the tidings he bore. "Mother remains in Runestone. She will be returning shortly, bringing with her Daemon, Lady Rhea, and the children to court. She asks that arrangements be made for their lodging, particularly considering the needs of the boys."
Upon hearing this, Jaehaerys let out a small, gruff sound, a mix of acknowledgment and concern.
Finally, the King lifted his gaze from the scroll, his eyes meeting Baelon's with an intensity that cut through the air. "And what is your opinion?" he inquired, his tone shifting as he sought Baelon's counsel on the unfolding family dynamics.
Baelon pondered for a moment, his brow slightly furrowed. "They are robust, invigorated by youth. Robar clearly carries the distinctive features of House Royce, yet he possesses an undeniable aura reminiscent of a dragon's fierce spirit. Aerion, however, is… something entirely different."
Jaehaerys scrutinized his son with keen interest, noting the weight of his words.
Baelon continued, "Daemon has taken to Aerion with an intensity that surprises even me—like flame consuming dry kindling. It's quite astonishing to observe."
"Good," Jaehaerys muttered, a hint of hope threading through his words. "Perhaps the boy will ultimately find a way to control such wildness."
A silence enveloped the room, thick with unspoken thoughts.
Baelon cleared his throat, breaking the tension. "I have come to seek your permission… to choose a dragon egg. For Aerion."
At this, the King's gaze sharpened, a glint of alertness flickering in his eyes.
"Not for the Royce boy?" he inquired, his tone chillingly cold.
"No," Baelon replied promptly, a firm resolve in his voice. "I would never presume to take such a step. Robar bears the esteemed name of Royce. He is destined to rule Runestone one day, and I would not undermine that legacy."
"Then no dragon for him," Jaehaerys declared, his voice resolute. "I've already allowed it with the Velaryons. Rhaenys's marriage was politically necessary, but it still chafes me. Dragons should not be entrusted to the cares of other houses."
"I understand your concerns," Baelon replied, the weight of the moment pressing upon him. "But this request is for Aerion alone. He is Targaryen through and through. And the bond…" He hesitated, lowering his voice to a whisper. "I sensed it in Daemon. I felt it in Mother. The child possesses… something beyond the ordinary."
Jaehaerys gazed into the flickering flames of the hearth, lost in thought as the crackling embers danced before him. Time stretched between them, filled with unspoken considerations and the enormity of the decision at hand.
Baelon waited patiently, his heart racing with anticipation.
At last, the old King released a heavy sigh, the sound carrying the weight of his years and burdens.
"You believe this boy is special?" Jaehaerys asked, studying his son closely, as if searching for hidden truths in his expression.
"I do," Baelon affirmed, his conviction firm.
"Then we must proceed formally," Jaehaerys said, his tone shifting to one of resolve. "Select an egg. Have it placed in the cradle with the force of royal decree. Let the realm witness that he belongs to us."
Baelon bowed his head in gratitude. "Thank you, Father."
But as he expressed his thanks, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more at play. He caught the flicker of calculation in his father's eyes, a glint that spoke volumes. Jaehaerys understood the implications of his decision. If he refused, Alysanne and Daemon would inevitably find a way to keep the boy close, driven by the affection they already felt for him—and such a scenario would reflect poorly on the old King's judgment.
Later that night, in Baelon's solar…
He sat before the crackling fire, a letter from Rhaenys unopened beside him, the parchment staring back with a weight of unspoken words. His mind wandered, as it often did, to the pivotal day when he had been named heir, a moment that still echoed in his memory.
From the very first breath she took, he had adored Rhaenys. He could vividly recall the times she had perched on his shoulders, her small hands tugging playfully at his beard, her laughter ringing out as she called him "Uncle Bael" in a voice so sweet it could melt iron.
Though he had cherished her, he had never harbored any desire for her crown, the burden of kingship that came with it. Yet, despite his personal feelings, he never openly opposed her claim to the throne.
The details of that fateful conversation lingered in his mind, as vivid as if it had occurred just yesterday.
"Baelon, I regret how my decision affected Rhaenys," Jaehaerys said, his voice measured yet resolute. "She is my beloved granddaughter, and I understand she believed the crown should rightfully pass through her lineage."
Baelon remained silent, keenly observing his father's expression, searching for a glimpse of doubt or contradiction.
"It was not a decision I made lightly," the old king continued, his tone growing solemn. "Many assume I denied her merely because she is a woman, but that is an oversimplification—unworthy of the complexity of the truth."
He leaned forward, his hands clasped tightly together, as if to steady the weight of his words.
"Rhaenys possesses intelligence and capability. A dragonrider, like the finest of our lineage. She would undoubtedly have ruled with wisdom and strength... but her chosen path diverged from what I deem necessary for the stability of the realm."
Baelon's brows knitted together, concern etching lines across his forehead as he absorbed his father's reasoning. Jaehaerys met his gaze, his eyes unyielding.
"You know the man she wed—Lord Corlys Velaryon. He is proud, ambitious, and incredibly devoted to his house, perhaps to a fault. As Consort, he would not have sought the necessary balance in governance. Instead, he would have pursued the elevation of House Velaryon to such heights that it could overshadow House Targaryen itself."
A heavy silence enveloped them as Baelon contemplated the truth of his father's words, each one a reminder of the delicate balance of power that held their dynasty together.
It was not merely Rhaenys' lineage I considered; it was the potential for her reign to be influenced by Velaryon ambitions. The stability of the realm must remain firmly rooted in Targaryen blood and name, especially given the heavy legacy we bear.
Jaehaerys paused, weighing his words carefully, before inquiring with a grave expression, "Do you recall the tale I shared with you about Aegon's prophecy?"
Baelon nodded earnestly, understanding the gravity of the moment.
"Then you grasp the reason behind my choice. Dragons are entwined with us—Targaryens. They are a part of our bloodline, a vital thread in our legacy. There may come a day when we confront a shadow so immense that only the strength of our connection with the dragons can save this world from despair. To hand the crown to Rhaenys, whose offspring would carry the Velaryon name, is to jeopardize that sacred bond."
He inhaled deeply, steadying himself against the weight of his decision.
"I recognize the pain this decision has caused her. I accept the possibility that it might one day sow division among us. Yet, this choice was never a matter of personal pride or adherence to tradition. It centered on safeguarding the line that must not falter. And that, Baelon, is the true reason I named you my heir."
Baelon closed his eyes, allowing the weight of that moment to wash over him again, its significance as heavy as the burden he now carried. He recalled how it had felt—a mixture of pride and dread mingling in his chest, an echo of responsibility that still lingered, haunting him in quiet moments.
He had been designated the heir not for any inherent superiority, but because the lineage had to survive, must continue against the relentless tide of time and fate.
Now, however, the tapestry of their history had gained another thread, vibrant yet fraught with potential chaos: Aerion Targaryen. The name resonated like distant thunder, a herald of fire and blood intertwined with their legacy.
Baelon could only hope that the world outside was ready for the new chapter that was unfolding, a chapter that could bring both glory and turmoil in equal measure.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hi everyone,
Thank you so much for your support!
I hope you're enjoying the story so far—your feedback truly means the world to me. I'd love to hear your thoughts on where you'd like the story to go next, so feel free to share any ideas or suggestions in the comments.
If you'd like to support my work and gain access to advance chapters, exclusive artwork, story polls etc please consider visiting: patre on. com (slash) Nerdy_Novelist_09