Chapter 1
Daemon only lay with his wife once, a loathsome experience he had no wish to repeat. Still, the seed of the dragon was strong. One time together was all it took for his bronze bitch to conceive a child.
He was in the Stepstones when he received the news. His son had been born, and Caraxes had roared with joy as he learned of the news. He had a son.
“Where is he?” He demanded once he landed in Runestone. A terrified guard led him to the nursery.
“Your grace, Lady Royce, she did not make it. The birthing fever got her-" even better. The woman was dead. A maester led him towards a crib where a bundled babe waited for him. His heart raced, and he wondered what his son might look like.
He expected the silver blonde hair of the Targaryens, but instead, he found dark Royce hair on a tiny head. The baby cooed, and Daemon’s hands shook as he picked up his son. The babe opened his eyes, and Daemon smiled - violet eyes stared back at him as he held the baby in his arms.
“Did she name him?” he asked the maester who watched intensely. “Before she passed, did my wife name the babe?”
“No, my prince.”
Good, thought Daemon.
“His name will be Baelon, Prince Baelon Targaryen.”
***
The last thing Regulus remembered was the inferi dragging him beneath the lake to his death. Then he gasped for air. The world became too bright and unfocused, and he stared up at a beautiful man with long silver hair.
“Hello, sweetling. I am your Kepa.” Regulus stared up at the handsome man holding him and smiled. Memories of an old life faded quickly as he looked up at his new father. Deep inside, he felt a spark, something different from everyone else, a remnant from his old life.
Magic!
***
Daemon knew his son was special; he had known it the moment he held him in his arms. The boy was small, but Daemon could feel the dragon's flames in his son. Viserys already had five children, four with the Hightower woman, but Daemon knew his son was better than any of them.
After swiftly finishing the war in the Stepstones, he returned to his son as quickly as he could. Slaughtering the crab king as fast as possible before returning to his son. He received summons from Viserys, which he ignored as he took over Runestone as his son’s regent.
Baelon never cried and rarely fussed, something that Daemon was grateful for. At six months, he began crawling, and by a year, he began talking in small sentences. Daemon loved nothing more than taking his son on dragonback and watching the smile on his face as they flew through the air.
One day, Daemon had arrived upon Caraxes from a flight when the servants ran towards him with urgency on their faces.
“My prince, it’s Baelon-"
“What is wrong?” He demanded, grabbing the poor knight by the collar.
“Come look, my prince. It’s - you must see for yourself.”
Daemon tossed the man aside, rushing to the nursery and bursting through the door. The door slammed as the wet nurse turned to him, pale-faced. On the floor, giggling, was Baelon, his favorite toy, a stuffed dragon, floating around him as he laughed.
Daemon felt his knees go weak.
“Kepa!” said Baelon, laughing. “Dragon fly!” The stuffed dragon flew through the air. “Kepa, look!” Baelon scrunched his face, and a small toy block began floating above the air. Daemon watched as the block flew slowly towards his chubby hand. Baelon grabbed it and held it up to a pale-faced daemon who took it.
“Thank you, Baelon,” the boy laughed, and Daemon felt a smile on his lips. His son had magic, something not even his brother’s offspring possessed. He knelt down and kissed his son's head softly. “You will do great things, sweetling. I’m sure of it.”
***
“He has been gifted by the gods!” declared the septon once he saw what Baelon could do. The boy smiled as he floated a book from the library shelf to himself. Daemon encouraged his son’s gifts as often as possible.
All the Maesters and Septons agreed his son was gifted. Smarter than average children, his strange powers something they could not understand.
“My prince,” said the Maester as he watched Baelon turn the pages of a book, his young eyes scanning the pictures hungrily. “You must consider sending the young prince to the Citadel so they might learn of his powers.”
“No,” said Daemon with a scowl. He was no fool. He knew the Citadel had ties to House Hightower. No doubt that man Otto had learned of his son's gifts. Word of his abilities spreading through the Royce’s ancestral home. He watched the way the servants looked at his son, some with awe and others with fear. “I will not allow my son to be tested and prodded by the Maesters and Septons. He will remain by my side.”
The Maester looked like he wanted to object but instead changed the subject. “My prince, another raven arrived today from the king.”
Daemon scowled, tossing the letter into the fire without reading it. It was by Viserys’ command that Daemon had returned to the Runestones and lay with Rhea. After he had stripped him of his position as heir. Now he wanted to talk after the birth of Baelon, no, he could rot for all Daemon cared.
“The Princess Rhaenyra has given birth to a son,” Daemon fought the urge to roll his eyes. Rhaenyra’s marriage was a farce; Leanor was a sword swallower through and through.
“The Lady Leana Valaryon has married the Sea Lord of Braavos’ son.” Daemon said nothing, but he felt a frown on his face. Leana was Valyrian and in another life, had the gods been willing, she might have been the perfect wife.
“May the gods give her a daughter,” said Daemon, picking up his son who let out a happy laugh. “A worthy Valyrian bride for my son.”
“My prince, perhaps reaching out to your brother king is best. Despite your differences, King Viserys has a daughter, Princess Healena.”
Daemon felt his nostrils flare. His son would be one of the most eligible bachelors in the realm once he grew older, the heir to his own keep, and a future dragon rider. Once news of his powers spread throughout the realm, ambitious individuals would be throwing their daughters at his feet.
Daemon would burn the Hightower to the ground before he ever let those Hightower offspring near his precious son.
“No, Leana or Rhaenyra may yet have a daughter. Viserys chose to push me away, banished me from court and disinherited me. He can keep his throne, but my son is mine.”
***
“This is an insult, your grace,” Otto declared as Viserys sat on the small council. “Prince Daemon has ignored all our ravens.”
News of Prince Daemon’s son's birth had reached the small council, especially the child’s name, the same name as the son Viserys’ wife Aemma had died for - the heir for a day.
Viserys said nothing as bitterness crept into his chest. Even in his exile, Daemon found a way to spite him.
“The Lady Royce died in the birthing bed; the boy is said to be strong. If he lives, he will be the heir to Runestone.” Tyland and Otto shared a glance; neither of them was fond of Daemon Targaryen.
“Summon Daemon to court so that I may meet the child. He is, after all, a prince of the realm.”
“Your grace, there is more. There are rumors about the child, whispers amongst the servants and people of Runestone.”
“What kind of whispers?” inquired Lord Beesbury, leaning forward.
“They say the child is blessed by the gods, that he has magic, able to do unexplained things.”
“Magic,” there was a hint of curiosity in Viserys' voice, and Otto gritted his teeth. The Faith strictly forbid the use of magic. But if Daemon’s child was truly capable of such a thing, they had to get to the bottom of it.
“Send a personal envoy to Runestone. Command Daemon to return to court and bring the boy so that we may see the truth of it ourselves.”
“Yes, your grace,” Otto nodded his head, holding back a grin. He would find some way to use this, to further his cause. His blood would sit on the throne.