Baelon, what are you doing here? Are you wearing your riding leather? You know I hate when you go riding when I'm in this condition." Aemma scolded me.
"Mother, you hate when I go riding in any condition. Besides, Rhaenyra keeps going on and on about how she's the better rider of the two of us. I have to humble her somehow." I smirked.
Mother frowned. "Your sister is riding too? Honestly, why can't you two ever solve your disputes on solid ground? You'll be careful won't you?" Mother asked worryly.
Never mind that I just wanted to see how you were doing. Do you need anything Mother?" I asked concern.
Mother smiled at my concern. "The only thing I need is for my children to stay on solid ground so they don't worry their poor mother."
I snorted. "We have the blood of dragons, mother. We're meant to fly freely and soar. You must let me take you someday, then you'll understand what I mean."
My mother shakes her head in amusement. "Even dragons worry about their hatchlings. Fine, when your siblings leave my body and I have time to rest, I promise to ride with you on Nightstar. But don't tell your sister, she's been trying to get me to ride with her on Syrax since the moment she's been able to mount her." Mother says fondly.
Something she said caught my attention. "Siblings? Did the maesters say something?" I asked curiously. I don't recall Aemma in the book having twins…wasn't her last child a boy? We seem to be around that timeline, but then again there have been some slight differences.
"Have I not carried all of my children? I know it's different this time around, no matter what the "maester" says. Your brothers seem just as rowdy as you were, your sisters never gave me so much trouble." Mother says knowingly.
I blushed. I thank all of the gods I gain consciousness at three instead of going through that stage of my life consciousness. Remembering your own birth has got to be a nightmare and Westeros doesn't have therapy. I say I lucked out.
"I can't say I recall, are you sure it was me and not Rhaenyra? Our warrior princess whose Visenya come again?" I japed.
Mother gave me a knowing smile. "Are you still crossed with her calling you Queen Rhaenys? I hear you cause quite the spectacle."
I blushed again. "I would be honored to be compared to the former second Queen. I heard she had a way with people. Besides, Rhaenyra only said that to get a rise out of me."
"And from what I was told it seems she did, It's times like these where I'm reminded that you are the younger sibling." Mother says fondly.
"That's only because Rheanyra acts the younger sibling, you and father spoil her way too much." I mused.
Mother grabs my hand. "That's not it, from the moment you came into this world, it was as if you were born old. You never cried and were always a dutiful son. You never cause trouble, and your eyes…you watched the world around you with a deep understanding beyond your age. It's as if you were born in this world before." Mother says unknowingly close to the truth.
My heart skipped a beat.
Mother seems to notice my distress. "Baelon? Is there something the matter my son?"
"It's nothing, Mother," I said a little too quickly.
My mother study my face intensely. "Baleon…do you want to be King." She asks cautiously.
Now that did take me by surprise.
"What?" I asked, caught off guard.
"Your father thinks you would grow out of it but I can't help but notice…that you're not happy when you're doing your duties. You spend as much time as possible on your dragon or sneaking out of the red keep to head to the docks." Mother tells me pointedly.
I snapped my head up at her in shock. "How did…did Ser Robert tell you?" I asked a little hurt at the thought of my own sworn shield reporting on me.
Mother shakes her head. "That's my little secret. Ser Robert is stubbornly loyal only to you. Honestly, it puts my heart at ease to know you have someone so loyal. No, I know you long to be free from your duties and see the world."
I frowned. "Is that so wrong? If you bear father another son, wouldn't I be free to choose my own destiny? I know Father would do it if I asked. I could make a name for myself across the narrow sea like the "Sea Snake", maybe travel even further than he did. Who wants to be tied to this den of vipers and that ugly iron chair? Rhaenrya can have it if she wants. I know she does, even if she doesn't say anything.
Mother smiled sadly at me. "My son…if I was any other mother then I would have supported your endeavor. But I'm not just any mother, I am the Queen. It's my duty to provide an heir to the iron throne and I have done so."
My Mother cupped my face in her hands. "You are that heir, my pride and joy, you were born under a bleeding star. Baelon Starborne I named you. Kind, headstrong, willful, you have all the best parts of me and your father. That's how I know you will be a great king. But you must let go of this childish dream of yours." Mother tells firmly but not unkindly.
Her words hit me like a truck and I broke eye contact with her to hide my hurt.
"Your desire for freedom puts House Targaryen in a precocious position. We can't have the heir abandon his duties, it's set a bad precedence for the other houses. You think you're the only heir to have these thoughts and feelings. Your own father would be happier to just hunt and throw parties and tend to his collections of all things valyrian. But he chose to do his duty as you would one day.
Promise me Baelon, that when the time comes, you will do your duty to your house. It will put my mind at ease." Mother pleaded with me.
I pulled away from her touch and put her hands in my.
I squeezed her hand. "Let me call on your hand maidens and some servants to prepare a bath for you. I know soaking in a hot bath soothes you." I said switching the subject. I pulled back and turned my back on her.
"Baelon.." Mother calls out worriedly.
I continued on ahead as I didn't have the heart to tell her that I didn't want to make that kind of promise.
"Baelon!" My mother pleaded.
I stared at the wrapped body of my mother on the pyre. They said she was bleeding too much and too quickly. That she didn't have the energy to deliver my second brother, so they asked my father to make a choice and he chose to save my brother. It was too late to save her, they said.
How eager were they to cut my mother apart? I wondered how much of what I'd been told was true. Did my father believe there was no other choice? I find myself uncaring of his position. Why didn't he try everything to save my mother? Why believe everything the maesters told him?
But then I turned inward. I should have been there…I should have…my god why didn't I turn back when she called me? If I had just…
Self-loathing raged within me. How could I have been so naive? Was this Otto Hightower? The maesters are his creatures after all. Did he use my father to murder my mother? And who was going to get justice from the King if the King himself was the perpetrator?
I turn to Rhaenyra who looks exactly how I'm feeling. I grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze while Rhaenyra gripped my hand like a lifeline. Uncle Damon walks up to us concerned. "They're waiting for you," he tells us.
I answered him in high valyrian. "Who cares about what they're waiting for? It's not their mother who lies dead before us. Let them wait for an eternity."
"Brother," Rhaeynra warns me sharply. However, she herself seems to be holding back on what she really wants to say. My eyes softened and I turned to Rhaeynra once I got myself under control. "You should say it sister, with my bad mood I'm afraid Nightstar would misunderstand what I want her to do."
Rhaeynra nodded. "Dracarys, Syrax," She commands sadly. Syrax gave out a mourning roar and breathed Dragonfire on the Prye. My father wept. The sight of it fills me with anger and hatred. His greediness and weakness killed my mother and then he had the nerve to grieve? I dame him to the seven hells if it exists. My sisters and baby brothers will be without a mother. We'll be stuck with a man whose weakness causes the dance of dragons.
I faltered at that. Can I really say his weakness alone? Aren't I just as guilty as he is? Only caring about my own dreams and goals. Not to say my own father is without faults.
He will never care for the children he will eventually have after my mother, the irony. I steel myself. That will never come to pass. I glanced at Otto and his allies, and then my father. Because I'm going to kill them all before they get the chance. Otto Hightower, you better count your days because your blood will never sit on the Iron throne.
Days after the funeral I had my personal guards guard my brothers night and day. I made sure to give them potions that would make them immune to poisons and keep them in perfect health. And when I wasn't dealing with my brothers I was looking after my sisters with Rhaeynra's help. They didn't quite understand that Mother wasn't here anymore. There were days when Visenya would throw the biggest temper tantrum about not being able to see her and only me or Rhaenyra could calm her down.
Daenerys was the opposite, she would cry for days and the only way we could cheer her up was on dragon back. My brothers were much easier for some reason. They were calm babies who rarely cried and mostly slept. My father could barely look at them. He spends time mostly working on his "Legos" and sulking. No doubt entertaining Lady Alicent was the conclusion I came to once I realized she wasn't going to be visiting me.
I thought as heir maybe Otto would set his sights on me and send Alicent my way. But she hasn't visited me once. I think maybe it would be too obvious a move for him to make. I was young and untested but more importantly I was young, and it's sort of common for young heirs not to make it to their majority. Meaning this was the perfect time to get rid of me.
Otto already knows he could manipulate my father so why look a gift horse in the mouth? Plus he wouldn't be able to get my father to marry me and Alicent. I'm the heir and she's the daughter of a second son. My house wouldn't gain anything from our union and it makes Otto look like the greedy pig he is if he pushes for us to get married.
No, better for Alicent to "seduce" the king in his moment of weakness. If my father truly does marry Alicent it will only confirm what I suspect. Otto is planning to get rid of me and my brothers. Not all at once but probably before I could have an heir myself. The thought fills me with dread, not at my own possible demise but my brothers. They haven't been alive long and already their deaths are being planned. Otto has to get rid of me first.
Which must be frustrating for him since the easiest and simplest way to get rid of me would be poison. People get sick all the time, especially nobles and royals. But I have never been sick in my second life. I made sure to distribute my points early on before I reincarnated to poison immunity and a superhuman-like body.
And my gamer ability has let me know when people try to poison me—which was a lot of the time. Just enough to make me sick and pass away a few days later or the same night. I know the maesters that work for House Hightower must be scratching their head at why I'm not dying how they intended.
And I make it obvious that I protect my brothers from any harm by way of guards and me visiting them. I do it so often that I began shrinking from my duties. Rhaenyra has been taking over for me. I get the feeling my father knows I'm avoiding him and allows me free reign for now. Oh well, I don't feel a lick of guilt. He even allowed me to name my brothers. Sucking up to me was not going to help but I named the twins, Aelor and Baelor. Not any special reason other than my liking the names and the fact that I like the rhyming.
Wasn't there a Baelor that was born after the dance? Oops, my bad timeline…Oh wait…
I already screwed it.
When I told Rhaenyra that I liked the rhyming she gave me a weird look. "You're certainly a queer one brother. But if you like the names then I shan't complain," She tells me. Unlike my father, Rhaenyra doesn't seem to blame our brothers for our mother's death. As the oldest sister, she sort of adopted a mother role for our younger sibling while I was the father. The six of us felt like a family of orphans than one whose father was still alive.
And Uncle Daemon…has been acting out of character lately. Usually, he would be drinking and partying with his lickspitters. But he's been spending a lot of time with my father for some reason. He even takes his job of city watch seriously. It seems like he suddenly grew consciousness overnight. That's one major divergence from the books, Daemon got himself exiled for the "Heir for a day" thing but here I am the heir, and my brothers the spares, pushing him further down the line of succession.
So there was never a reason for him to say something along those lines but still…something about this bugs me.
And it's his being uncharacteristically reliable…I don't understand that man. Whatever, I got more important things to worry about. Like what am I going to do about Otto and his minions? Hmm, maybe I could use Daemon and his feud with Otto.
I doubt his being helpful will stop Otto Hightower from finding ways for Daemon to get exiled. Daemon has a nasty temper and he acts it out in unpredictable ways. It's not an if but when he will get exiled. I'll have to monitor the situation closely, Whether I like it or not Daemon was one of my only allies in this nest of vipers. Better he be in charge of the city watch than one of Otto's yes-men.
Speaking of Otto…I still haven't thought of a way to get rid of him that wouldn't be led back to me. Though I do have knights who would do it if I told them, it will still bring about the same problem. I can't just kill a nobleman, let alone the hand of the king without a fair trial and not be labeled mad. I won't pull a Maegor. This leads me to the one thing that could get the job done without it tracing back to me. Magic.
See, I have been reincarnated with some magic but the downside is that it's only magic that exists in this world. Some of those abilities are locked behind a certain level. The way that leveling works is by killing things or learning things that will gain me experience. The most experience I gained is by killing humans or magical creatures. And since the only magical creatures are our dragons that was out of the question.
Or the wights but that's not going to happen as they become active way after I'll be alive.
And I can't start randomly killing people, even criminals, without it reflecting poorly on me. The people will think I'm on track to become a second Maegor, it's bad enough I have a black dragon. No doubt Otto would use that as a cause for his eventual usurping. That was the excuse he used for Daemon.
I do know that my level cap is "20" and my current class was "Dragonlord". I could add a subclass at Level 5. And can change my class at will at level 8. There are at least thirteen classes that are known to me. There are some other classes but they seem to be locked behind a level. The problem is getting to that level. I'm only at level four at the moment.
Why can't things be simple? I should go to the training yard and clear my head. It's usually where I'm able to come up with my best plans. I sent a servant to summon my sword shield and instructor, Ser Robert, while I got ready. Physical training increases my dexterity and stamina. I'm slightly above grown knights in those areas.
Is it overkill to have a dragon and a cheat like my current gamer ability? I feel bad for having an advantage over my enemies…SAID NO ONE EVER! What moron wouldn't take anything he could get, especially in a world like this one that has eldrich-level horrors that are hidden around every corner.
Whoa, that thought came out of nowhere, I felt like someone asked me a stupid question just now. Anyway…
I went to the courtyard and saw my Uncle Daemon and a few of his gold cloaks training some young men close to my age. Welp, there goes the neighborhood. I thought about turning back around but fuck it, I'm already here. I casually stroll up to Daemon and his gold cloaks. "Good morrow, Uncle." I greeted.
Daemon gave me a weird look while his gold cloaks bowed to me in greeting. "Which one of Alicent's little spawns are you again? The drunk?" Daemon asked mockingly. His gold cloaks looked at him in confusion and glanced at me awkwardly.
What.
"What? Uncle Daemon, are you having a jape? I'm Baelon, remember?" I asked cautiously as my mind raced for a possible explanation. Did he just call me Alicent's spawn? The drunk…I studied Daemon in front of me as his eyes lit up in recognition.
"Baelon, yes, the current heir," Daemon said in disbelief. Almost as if he couldn't believe my existence. I schooled my face and tried out one of my theories. "Baelon? You haven't called me that in such a long time. It's always "My Prince" or "Nephew" in that mocking tone of yours Uncle. Have you suddenly developed an affection for me?" I asked in our mother tongue.
Daemon's poker face didn't change but his eyes softened a little just for a second, it was almost as if I imagined it. "Forgive me, my…prince. It's been a tiring few days, I've been with your father, the King."He tells me pointedly in our native tongue.
Holy shit.
Holy shit!
Daemon never calls me by title, I mean yes he's family but I just told him something he should know is a lie and he just went with it. I paused, no, I shouldn't make assumptions so soon. I need to be subtle in the way I test him, otherwise he'll know.
"Yes, It's good that Father has you for support, Uncle. Are you training the new batch of gold cloaks? It's true that I haven't met any of the ones you command but if I am to be king someday I would like to fix that. I'd like to join you and your men today, Uncle Daemon." I said looking him square in the eye. Daemon watched me and then glanced at his men who seemed unsure of the situation. They most likely heard that Daemon and I have our own little game and are wondering how we're going about it. They would be right about the first but this is a different kinda game.
Daemon eyed me and smirked. "Yes, maybe it's high time you learned the way of things. And who better than me to teach you how to be a proper dragon."
Duh. Princess Rhaenys.
That is what I would say if I was dealing with the Daemon I know. But this one feels…more mature than the Daemon I know. Quips aren't going to work well with him. I mean they're super effective but for now, I need a more…subtle approach.
Daemon looked down at the swords by my sides. "Are you able to wield those?" Daemon asked as he nodded to them. "I suggest mastering one sword before thinking of using two. Just what is your master-at-arms playing at?"
"He's not training me to be a sword master, Uncle. He's training me to be a killer." I retorted. There was a hint of approval in Daemon's eyes and he did his usual mocking grin. "And yet you haven't killed anyone, have you nephew?"
I met his intense gaze with one of my own, I nodded at him. "Yet."
"Yet." Daemon agreed with some amusement.
Daemon turns to one of his trainees, A man who looks to be a few years older than me. He wasn't dressed in the finest clothes and had the eyes of a seasoned warrior. "You there, you'll be dueling my nephew, the prince. If you manage to beat him, I'll give you a few gold dragons and a spot on the gold cloaks. Refuse my generous offer and…" He trailed off not needing to spell out the rest of his threat.
The man frowned and his eyes quickly darted around the assembled group. None of the trainees or gold cloaks met his eyes except the man standing next to my uncle. With one nod from him, the man's confidence grew and his hesitation vanished. He looked at me with pity in his eyes and went to get a wooden sword. No doubt he thinks Uncle Daemon means to humiliate me in front of his men.
"There's no need for that," Daemon called out to him. The man paused and turned to him uncertain and confused. "We'll be using live steel," Daemon says while observing me. I pulled out my right sword "Blood" and threw it to the ground in front of my opponent. "Fine by me," I tell him.
Ser Robert had these swords commissioned for me for my nameday. Twin red blades with a black hilt and a dragon-shaped pommel fashioned after Nightstar. Swords with the colors of my house. I named them "Fire" and "Blood" after my house words. I didn't want fancy names like from the songs. So I took a page out of House Stark's book and gave them something practical and simple.
My opponent picked up the sword in front of him and started examining it and testing it out with a few swings. "A fancy blade milord, your servants must take good care of it." He says not unkindly but with a hint of something in his voice. Ah, he's one of those types, isn't he? It's fine, he can judge me all he wants but if he underestimates me then that's his problem.
"Don't you worry your little head over it, I'll be taking it back soon enough." I told him coldly as I pulled out "Fire" from its sheath and got into position. His eyes widened a fraction of a second before narrowing and his mouth set into a hardline. He got into a position opposite to me. I took in his amateurish form and made a few notes in my head. It wasn't…terrible but he leaned into that sword stance from muscle memory and experience.
It wasn't just his sword stance I was paying attention to, it was also the look in his eyes. This man had nothing to lose, a look I recognized when I would sneak out of the red keep and explore Flea Bottom. Something stirred within me when I thought of Flea Bottom. But I banished it to the back of my mind.
Besides that he was also bigger than me and had broad shoulders, by the sizes of his arms I could only assume he was a blacksmith apprentice. I wasn't going to beat him with strength. So I will have to rely on my speed and technique.
We circled each other, patiently waiting for an opening. Daemon watched us with a bored expression until he got tired of waiting. "Just get on with it!" He snapped. The man immediately swung his sword at me.
I smirked internally, thank you Daemon.
I sidestep his initial swing and put some distance between us. But that didn't stop him from pressing his advantage. He rushed at me as if to use his big stature to intimidate me. Too bad I wasn't scared of him. If I was a normal fourteen-year-old boy whose been sheltered his whole life then maybe his plan would have some merit.
But I was neither of those things. I stared him down as he charged me. He swung a total of three times, I dodged the first two and parried the third strike to the left creating an opening for me. I quickly aimed my sword at his neck in a stabbing position. The man stared at my sword in disbelief. I glanced at Daemon to gauge his reaction and could see the wheels turning in his head.
I took a huge step back and with a twirl of my sword got into a defense position. I gestured for him to try again. There was a flicker of something behind his eyes as reevaluated my threat level. This time he didn't charge me like before and began circling me cautiously, searching for some kind of opening.
I wasn't going to give him time to come up with a plan. This time I was on the offensive as I started probing his defense with several sword strikes. Each strike is faster than the other. I was giving him no time to think and as soon as I saw my opening I disarmed him with the move Ser Robert showed me and aimed my blade at his chest.
He growled at me, picked up "Blood" and got into an offensive position. "Try that again! I'll show you how we fight in Flea Bottom."
Daemon stepped forward. "Enough. I have what I want. I have seen the Prince's…true capabilities. Nephew, starting today you will become my squire."
…Are you having a stroke? Is what I'm tempted to say but I bite my tongue.
But before I could ask Daemon what was he playing at, Ser Robert arrived with my father, who looked pissed, his kingsguards, and Otto who looked quite pleased with himself.
"Stop this madness in the name of your king! Ser Clegane, Ser Criston, seize that man!" My father roared angrily.
I'm taken aback by Father's anger and so is Daemon. But by the look on Otto's face, I just knew he had something to do with this. That conniving bastard is going to use me to get Daemon exiled. I can't let him take Daemon off the board just yet.
Ser Robert and Ser Criston seized the man I was sparring with while we watched the scene unfold dumbfounded. The man shoots Daemon with a nervous look.
"Wait! Father, what's the meaning of this? I was just receiving training from Uncle Daemon." I asked him. Father grabbed my shoulders and he looked me up and down for injuries.
"Well, he didn't get my permission! Explain yourself Daemon! You would have my son beaten by one of your thugs! Are you so filled with jealousy that you would aim to humiliate your own nephew? Your blood! Look at him, he's just a boy!" Father laid into Daemon before he could defend himself.
"Father, Wait! Please listen to me." I pleaded to him.
Viserys paused in his tirade and turned to me.
"This isn't some thug, this is Ben Blackstone, his father is the one who made these swords I carry. He lost his father some time ago and is looking to join the gold cloaks. I was simply sparing with a…friend who shares my grief." I explained.
The man, now revealed as Ben Blackstone, glanced at me in surprise.
"Ser Robert would be able to confirm what I'm saying, he was the one to commission my swords after all," I added.
Viserys studied me with keen eyes and turned to Ser Robert. "Is this true Ser Clegane?"
Ser Robert quickly glanced at me and nodded. "Yes my King, this is the son of the late blacksmith. Prince Baelon speaks the truely. I commissioned the swords for the Prince's nameday, and I did hear the same blacksmith passed away not that long ago."
Otto Hightower frowned and Daemon watched us with new interest.
Father still frowned but gestured for them to let Ben go.
"Still, we'll find you companions closer to your station to train with. Your Uncle Daemon should know better than to…" My father paused and then collected himself. "I want everyone back to your station. Daemon you will continue with the gold cloaks elsewhere, am I understood? Otto…a word." Father says tightly.
"One more thing, Brother," Daemon called out to him. Father paused and looked at Daemon impatiently. "I will have Baelon as a squire, the boy has potential I think I could bring to fruition."
Ser Robert looked at me alarmed while Father and Otto stared at Daemon in disbelief. Father studied Daemon as if he were a puzzle he was trying to solve, little did he know I was trying to do the same thing.
"Can I Father?" I asked him in our mother tongue. "It would show the other Houses that House Targaryen is united. And I trust Uncle Daemon, he's been supporting us in our time of grief. Who better to teach me than another dragon? And who knows, maybe I could temper Uncle Daemon's worse impulses."
My father let out a snort and Daemon looked at me in amusement. "Ha, I very much doubt that…Fine. Daemon, I'm trusting you with Baelon, and Baelon I trust you know what you're doing. But don't think I don't know you two are playing some kind of game. Gods help the realm if you two are finally working together…I will be watching the both of you. Do not disappoint me."
Father gives one final look at Daemon and gestures to Otto to come follow him with the Kingsguards behind them.
After they had left, I realized that that was the first time I had spoken to Father after Mother had passed.