Prince Baelon

Kingslanding; Crownlands; fifth moon of 98 AC

Baelon Targaryen POV

The skies of Kingslanding were never calm, never without life or excitement. These skies were home to magnificent beasts; from scales of black to scales of green, from red to blue, dragons flew on those skies. The white clouds, to most untouchable, were a playground to those of House Targaryen and their dragons. That fact was more accurate for Daemon Targaryen and Caraxes The Blood Wyrm than for others. Baelon's son and his dragon had a bond rarely seen even in House Targaryen; they flew together daily and practiced risky moves every day. The Rogue Prince didn't tie himself to his saddle, didn't use a whip, and yet he was the one who held more "control" over his dragon than any other Targaryen, save for Queen Alyssanne and Silverwing. However, that comparison was unfair; not only was Silverwing a less willful dragon, but Queen Alyssane's bond with the she-dragon was older than Baelon himself.

Vhagar and Baelon liked to fly in the mornings; the she-dragon was more active at that time of the day and seemed to enjoy the feeling of the cold clouds on its face; Baelon enjoyed flying in the mornings as it helped him prepare for the rest of the day and its challenges.

Vhagar glided through the blue sky above Kingslanding with splendor and elegance; the calmness brought by the clouds helped to addle Baelon's mind as he thought about the affairs of the realm at that moment, the crispy morning wind hit Baelon's face and shook his silvery blond hair, his closed eyes did nothing to hide the joy he felt while flying. In the sky, with Vhagar and the memories of his beloved Alyssa, nothing mattered; in the sky, there were no petty lords trying to get scraps of power from him or his family, and there was no Daemon running away from his duties in Vale, leaving a diplomatic scandal for him to handle, there was no Viserys making dubious friends with questionable intentions at best, there was only peace, fire and the sky itself.

Baelon and Vhagar continued to fly for one more hour before Baelon's duties knocked in the back of his mind; heavy was the crown, even the one that wasn't on his head yet. After smoothly landing in the dragonpit, Vhagar let Baelon dismount her before swiftly flying away, never even contemplating the possibility of entering the pit, something no one there expected her to do as the old she-dragon's distaste for the pit was well known.

On the Dragonpit's door, Ser Westerling and Ser Crabb waited patiently for Baelon; their white cloak and silver armor gave away their status as Kingsguards. Ser Westerling's demeanor was calm and collected, Baelon noted, alert but not overly concerned. Ser Crabb looked unperturbed, but one could cut with a knife the attentiveness of the seasoned knight. Ser Crabb saw Baelon first and saluted him with a small bow; Ser Westerling did the same a few seconds later.

"My Prince, Ser Roderick Blackwood arrived in court this morning answering his grace's call; his grace the king has called for a small council meeting in the hours after noon." Ser Crabb said politely; the seasoned knight's eyes showed nothing but respect for Baelon.

"Thank you for informing me, Ser Crabb. Who is holding court with Father and Barth?" Baelon asked; his disheveled hair did nothing to underwhelm his elegant persona.

"Her grace, the queen, is with his grace, as well as your eldest son Prince Viserys." Ser Westerling answered calmly.

"Well… it's wise on Viserys' part to show the Lords he is interested in the affairs of the realm," Baelon said calmly; a glimpse of pride married his eyes for a second as he thought about his son.

"Indeed it is, my prince. Prince Viserys is kind and forgiving, a perfect father and husband…." Ser Crabb trailed off

"But not the perfect traits for a King. He'll learn… for now, let the boy enjoy his wife and little daughter… The gods know how much I miss my late wife." Baelon said; his demeanor was not sad but nostalgic. Ser Crabb did nothing but nod silently.

"Then let us get back to the Red Keep… Daemon's little stunt must be dealt with… if only mother hadn't taken his side," Baelon said, his voice showing his distaste for Daemon's actions toward his wife, the heir of Runestone.

"If my prince allows me…." Ser Westerling began, asking permission to speak his mind, something Baelon allowed with a wave of his hand.

"The more my prince tries to force Prince Daemon into this marriage, the more damage you do; he may resent you in the future, my prince, and you may lose him forever." Ser Westerling said, the knight's voice cutting through Baelon's thoughts as a hot knife cut through butter.

"There is no other way… Daemon is no longer a child; many responsibilities come with his titles. He rides Caraxes, a powerful beast and a formidable companion. The marriage cannot be annulled as he already bedded the girl." Baelon began, "These rebellious traits of his must be curbed, and I will be the one to do it; consequences be dammed."

"My Prince speaks the truth; however, her grace, the queen will not approve of your methods. She pampers Prince Daemon too much, nearly as much as she does Princess Gael." Ser Westerling counseled wisely; the concern over the royal family could be seen on his face.

"… That is indeed true. Mother pampers Daemon too much; she won't let me punish him, at least not by sending him to the Vale against his will." Baelon said after a few seconds, "But that's neither here nor there… Come Sers, let us get back to the Red Keep." Baelon said with a tone of finality.

Baelon's arrival at the Red Keep was tranquil; the heir to the Iron Throne walked through the corridors of the almost-finished castle with purpose and conviction; the Kingsguard's knights on his heels, the Targaryen banners on the walls were as abundant as water in a river, not as abundant as nobles trying to lick his father's behind in sad attempts at getting some measure of power however. The prince decided not to appear in court that day; his father would not need him till the afternoon, freeing his late morning hours to talk to Daemon.

" Ser Wersterling, do you have any idea where Daemon is?" Baelon asked the silent Kingsguard, who, after a few seconds, answered

" Prince Daemon was training in the yard with the other knights when I left the castle to fetch you, my prince." Ser Wersterling's response got an idea in Baelon's mind; the spring prince smiled mischievously, much to the kingsguard's internal dismay; Baelon saw Ser Westerling exchange a " PLEASE HELP ME" look with Ser Crabb and laughed a little

" Ser Crabb, get someone to fetch me Icefyre. I'll teach Daemon his Old man IS still a man to be feared." Baelon said in an oddly happy tone.

" Yes, my prince," Ser Crabb said without skipping a heartbeat.

" My Prince, her grace the Queen-" Ser Werterling began but was interrupted by Baelon

" Is not Daemons's mother, Ser. He is my son; with the addition of magic and dragons in The North, his behavior is no longer amusing but outright dangerous to House Targaryen." Baelon began, his smile now gone and replaced by a frown. " A prince of the blood who was never denied anything before and was indulged in every desire he ever had will cause troubles down the line... He will learn that being a prince of the blood comes with as many responsibilities as privileges." Baelon concluded, his purple eyes filled with worry as his head went through hundreds of scenarios as his legs walked him towards the yeard

"My Prince, do you fear the North will rebel?" Ser Westerling asked after a few minutes of a silent walk

" Not without cause, no. ''There has never lived a Stark who forgot his oaths''; those were the words of Ser Osmund Strong to my great grandsire Aegon Targaryen. They will remain loyal until House Targaryen breaks faith with them." Baelon said in a somewhat contemplative voice, " That is why Daemon must grow, to avoid this dreadful possibility," Baelon concluded.

As Baelon walked into the training yard, his face stoic and oddly carefree, the few knights there training looked at him with confusion for a second; however, those looks didn't linger for long as the Spring Prince calmly walked towards a bench to wait for his sword to be brought to him. Baelon noted Daemon's curious look at him; he also noted the smirk on his son's face as he played around in the yard; his swings were wide and purposedly embellished in a mocking faction, like when in a mummer's show when an opponent was portrayed like the pinnacle of swordsmanship and the other was just a ruffian with no skill at all.

" It's quite pitiful, isn't it, Ser Westerling? Such talent with no discipline." Balon commented as he observed Daemon's fight.

" The Prince's performance is similar to his personality..." Ser Westerling replied

" A performance like that will get him killed when he finds a true warrior for the first time," Baelon suggested, his nose wrinkled in displeasure.

" So will the prince's personality when he pushes someone too far." Ser Westerling said, his silver armor and white cloak contrasted deeply with the dark emotions on his face.

" Over my dead body!" Baelon proclaimed coldly composed yet not loud, "He will learn, or he will learn; there'll be no other option. I'll not be like Father; I'll not be made to bury my children," Baelon concluded as he watched Ser Crabb and his squire caring Icefyre and a leather breastplate, respectively.

" Your sword, my prince," Ser Crabb said as he gave the sword to Baelon; the kingsguard then quickly returned to Ser Westerling's side to better guard the heir to the Iron Throne.

With his unsheathed sword in hand, Baelon quickly stood to better allow the squire to strap the breastplate on him as another squire wrapped a thin leather stripe on Icefyre to blunt the deadly weapon.

The training yard went silent as Baeon quietly walked toward his son, whose smirk lessened as he saw the stoic face of his typically energetic father.

" Father! Good Morrow! It's a surprise seeing you here to train at this hour." Daemon said enthusiastically to hide his fear of a scolding. For all his faults, Baelon found his son's confident posture endearing, like when Daemon was nothing but a child and with hands full of sugar, denied ever touching a sweet, and would fight anyone who dared go against his words.

" Your Grace!" Daemon's training partner, a humble knight of House Fell, said. Both the Rogue Prince's and the humble knight's words were met with silence for a few seconds.

" Leave, Ser," Baelon said to the knight, who bolted like an arrow out of a bow, but not before bowing to both princes, the whole action taking not but a few seconds.

" Let us train, my son. Train and talk." Baelon said calmly with a genuine small smile on his face.

" Yes...?" Daemon confusedly said but quickly recomposed himself. "Let us train then."

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A/N: I'll pretend this little hiatus didn't happen if y'all do the same 👍🏽

Thank you for your support!

Dunk & Egg TV adaptation is coming… I could cry of happiness I'll tell you.