The rumors spread swiftly through the streets of King's Landing.
Thanks to the efforts of the Guards under Belron's command, word of the so called "Dragon Dream" reached every corner of the city within only a few days. Taverns buzzed with speculation, market stalls whispered of prophecy, and even the fishermen along the Blackwater spoke of little else.
Most of the city's residents held the same view as the bread vendor from before. To them, Prince Baelon's dream felt like a warning sent by the gods themselves. The common folk, ever eager for signs and omens, quickly rallied behind him.
Though King's Landing was not truly Baelon's core power base, his reputation there rivaled that of any great lord.
At the same time, Mattheus did not remain idle.
He publicly acknowledged that Prince Baelon's dream was genuine and declared that he too had once experienced a vision in his sleep.
Standing before a gathering of septons and townsfolk in the city square, the man raised both hands toward the sky.
"The Seven guide the faithful in many ways," Mattheus proclaimed. "Through prayer, through signs… and through dreams. Prince Baelon has been granted a glimpse of trials yet to come."
He even went further, claiming that Prince Baelon, like himself, had been chosen by the Seven Gods to witness coming dangers through divine dreams.
To strengthen this claim, Mattheus boldly proposed that Prince Baelon undergo a trial before the Seven, witnessed by the people of King's Landing themselves.
The declaration immediately lent legitimacy to Baelon's earlier words.
Dreams were intangible things. No man could prove them true or false. Yet once the Seven Gods were invoked, such visions gained an air of sacred authority.
Many of King's Landing's citizens might have scoffed at a dragon dream.
But a vision blessed by the Seven felt very different.
Mattheus required the position of High Septon.
Prince Baelon required the Faith's recognition.
It did not take long for the two men to reach an understanding.
In truth, the plan carried considerable risk.
Fortunately, King Viserys had already laid the groundwork years before with his own tale of a prophetic dragon dream. Because of that precedent, Baelon's sudden vision did not appear particularly strange.
Throughout the Seven Kingdoms it was well known that the blood of House Targaryen carried an unusual bond with dreams.
Thus Prince Baelon dreaming of dragons seemed almost natural.
Within the Red Keep, Prince Baelon stood beside a long table strewn with parchment and reports. Across from him sat King Viserys, whose tired eyes lingered on the flickering candlelight.
Baelon folded his hands behind his back as he spoke.
"Although Otto's injuries were severe, he was fortunate," he said calmly. "His condition did not worsen. With the help of the Grand Maester, he remains alive."
Viserys gave a faint nod.
Baelon continued, his tone steady.
"The people of King's Landing are restless. They demand someone to blame." His gaze hardened slightly. "I intend to give them a scapegoat. One that will bear the city's anger and win the favor of the commons."
From the beginning, this had always been the role intended for Otto Hightower.
Otto Hightower was useful in many ways.
First came the soldiers.
Using his authority, Baelon ordered a purge of much of King's Landing's idle population. Those able to fight were recruited into his Dawnwatchers.
The rest quietly fell under the influence of his mother, Mysaria. They became part of the shadowy criminal networks that lurked beneath the city's streets.
Truthfully, given the current circumstances, it seemed increasingly unlikely that something like the Dance of the Dragons would ever come to pass.
Yet an unease still lingered in Baelon's mind.
Since the appearance of the creatures of ice and snow, reality had struck him with a sobering truth.
This world was far more complicated than he had once believed.
His enemy was no longer merely House Hightower. Now there existed another threat entirely. Creatures that had never appeared in the histories or the tales he once knew.
In a strange way, that might be better.
Simply following the known path of history would hold little meaning.
Only by facing the unknown, confronting it, and ultimately overcoming it could Baelon feel a true sense of accomplishment.
Viserys listened quietly, though his gaze seemed distant.
At last he waved a tired hand.
"Very well," the king said. "Handle these matters as you see fit."
Baelon studied his father's expression, a faint crease forming between his brows.
Before he could ask what troubled him, Viserys suddenly spoke again.
The king leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples before lifting his eyes.
"After your wedding with Rhaenyra and Laena," Viserys said slowly, "I intend to travel to Dragonstone."
Baelon blinked.
Viserys gave a faint, almost boyish smile.
"I wish to see if I can tame another dragon."
....
Viserys's words nearly frightened Baelon out of his wits.
The year was now 121 AC.
According to the course of the original story Baelon remembered, King Viserys still had roughly eight years left to live.
Viserys had ascended the Iron Throne at the age of twenty six and had now ruled the Seven Kingdoms for eighteen years. During those years the realm had prospered. Trade flowed freely across the narrow sea, the great houses remained largely at peace, and the strength of the crown had grown steadily.
Yet the king himself had declined.
His health had worsened with each passing year.
Though he was not yet as gravely afflicted as the man Baelon remembered, Viserys had grown enormously fat, and the Iron Throne had left countless wounds upon his body. Cuts that never seemed to fully heal dotted his arms and legs, angry reminders of the throne's cruel nature.
More troubling still, the king suffered greatly from seasickness.
With such a condition, the thought of him sailing to Dragonstone was already concerning. Attempting to tame a dragon seemed almost unimaginable.
Yet Baelon did not attempt to stop him.
Instead, curiosity stirred within him.
What could have driven Viserys, a man who had long shown caution toward dragons, to suddenly attempt to bond with one again?
As though sensing his son's unspoken question, Viserys slowly pushed himself upright and shuffled across the chamber. His movements were slow and heavy, each step carrying the weight of years.
He lowered himself onto a cushioned sofa with a tired sigh. For a brief moment he closed his eyes, savoring the softness beneath him.
When he spoke again, his voice carried a reflective calm.
"My feelings toward dragons have never been the same as yours," Viserys said quietly. "Nor like Daemon's."
He rested both hands upon his belly, his fingers tapping absently against the silk of his robe.
"To speak plainly, Baelon, I fear them."
He lifted his gaze toward the tall windows overlooking King's Landing.
"Creatures so vast that they could burn a town to ash in moments. Power like that should not belong to men."
His lips curved faintly.
"And yet we command them."
"I have often thanked the gods that I was born a Targaryen," he continued. "A gift from the old gods and the new alike. Only our blood can wield the terrible strength of dragons."
As he spoke, the emotion in his voice shifted, softening into something distant and wistful.
"When I was young, I was not so cautious," Viserys said. "Ambition burned hot within me."
His eyes drifted somewhere far beyond the chamber walls, as if he were seeing another time.
"When I entered the Dragonpit for the first time, I chose the greatest dragon alive."
He exhaled slowly.
"The Black Dread. Balerion."
Baelon remained silent, allowing the king to continue.
"The moment I looked into his eyes," Viserys said softly, "I was afraid."
He gave a small, self conscious smile.
"A king should not admit such things, perhaps. But it is the truth."
Viserys leaned back against the cushions.
"The old dragon did not appear hostile. Not then."
"In his eyes I saw something else."
He paused.
"Resentment."
The word lingered in the quiet chamber.
"He wished to fly again. To feel the sky beneath his wings."
Viserys folded his hands together.
"And by chance… I appeared before him at that moment."
A shadow passed across the king's face, and his voice fell into a brief silence.
Baelon knew the rest of the tale well.
Balerion had carried Viserys into the sky and circled King's Landing three times before returning to the Dragonpit. Within a year, the great dragon was dead.
Viserys spoke again, his voice softer now.
"In truth, Balerion did not obey my command that day."
Baelon's brow furrowed slightly.
"It was not my will that made him circle the city three times," Viserys continued. "It was his own."
"He seemed to know that his time had come."
Viserys looked down at his hands.
"I had ordered him to fly to Dragonstone. I believed the old dragon might find freedom there."
His fingers tightened slightly.
"But he refused."
Silence settled briefly between them.
"It was after that flight that I began to understand something," Viserys said at last.
"Dragons are not beasts we truly control."
He lifted his eyes to Baelon.
"Even the greatest dragonriders in history could not command them forever. There always comes a moment when a dragon chooses its own path."
Only then did Baelon finally understand.
In the story, Viserys had never attempted to claim another dragon after Balerion.
The reason now stood plainly before him.
The experience had shaken the king deeply.
Baelon stepped a little closer, studying his father's tired expression.
"Then why now?" he asked quietly.
His voice held genuine confusion.
"What made you decide to tame another dragon?"
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A/N: Advance chapters available on Patreon,
If you've enjoyed the story so far, this is the moment you don't want to miss.
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