Chapter 4
Baelon was playing with Jacaerys and Lucerys when his father arrived. He rushed to his son and pulled him into his arms. Baelon snuggled close to his father, pressing his face to his chest.
“I am sorry, Baelon. I pray someday you forgive me. I’ve lost your home.” Baelon looked up at his father with wide eyes. Daemon kissed his forehead, and Baelon leaned into the kiss.
He had memories of another father and mother, of another life with a brother he once worshipped, who abandoned him to run off with his friends, and of an evil man who did bad things. But each day, his memories faded, and now he only cared about his father. His Kepa was his only family.
“You are my home, Kepa,” Daemon’s eyes went wide, and he tightened his grip on his son as he hugged him.
“You are my home too, Baelon. I promise you, someday I will give you all that you deserve.”
“I only want you,” said Baelon, and Daemon closed his eyes to keep his tears from falling.
***
Daemon did not, in fact, see reason. He and Baelon departed before the day was done. Viserys had seen Caraxes fly above the Red Keep, letting out a roar of rage as Caraxes breathed a gust of red flames into the air, scaring the servants.
“You were wrong,” said Alicent as she watched the red beast disappear into the distance. Her father stood behind her, watching with a smirk on his face. “Daemon refused the proposal, and now Daemon is out in the wild with his demon son. No doubt, he will cause nothing but chaos now that he is enraged.”
“He is no threat,” said Otto calmly. “I have already sent the letters denouncing his son. Runestone will now go to Rhea Royce’s nephew, and no one would dare betroth their daughter to his son for fear of becoming an enemy of the crown.”
“So what now?”
“We wait,” said Otto calmly. “His son is soiled goods. He has no lands to call his own and no prospects willing to take him in. He will have his tantrum, but he will return when all other doors close to him. Then the boy will be ours; not even Daemon is cruel enough to allow his son to become a beggar.”
“What if he crosses the narrow sea?”
“He won’t stay far for long. He will return; he is a second son with no holdings or lands to his name. He may find shelter across the narrow sea as a guest of magistrates and princes, but soon they will tire of him, and he will come crawling back.”
***
“My prince, won’t you reconsider?” The Maester followed Daemon as he made his way to his son’s chambers. All their things had been packed and put on Caraxes as they prepared to leave Runestone. “Surely your brother would reconsider if you accept his offer. Princess Heleana is hardly an insulting offer for a bride for your son.”
“Any spawn of that green whore is unworthy of a true dragon,” sneered Daemon as he walked into Baelon’s room. The small boy looked at him and smiled as he trotted over with his outstretched hands.
“Kepa, is it time?”
“Yes, my little dragon. Soon our adventure will begin.” Viserys had kept true to his word, and letters had been spread across the realm. All betrothal offers made by Daemon to any great houses had been spurned. None dared to accept less they defy their king.
Daemon had smashed many glasses and plates in a rage after a sea of rejections. His son was the blood of the dragon, gifted by the gods, and he was having to beg for betrothals like some bastard.
The Baratheons, the Starks, had all spurned him. The Celtigars had also said no. Lady Jayne Arryn was too scared to lose her position to oppose the crown. That only left Lannisters and Martells in Dorne.
He might have considered Tyra Lannister for his son, only to cause strife between Tyland and Otto, but he knew Tyland was just as much a snake as Otto. Neither one was worthy of his son.
That only left the Martells of Dorne, but since their many battles in the past, he hadn’t even bothered approaching the prince of Dorne. His son deserved better than to sweat his life away in the deserts of Dorne.
Rhaenyra had given birth to a son soon after Daemon’s departure, another boy with dark raven hair, and Daemon had chuckled once he had heard. Leana Velaryon had also given birth to twin girls, Baela and Rhaena.
Daemon had written at once seeking a betrothal for his son, but the Sea Snake and his cousin Rhaenys had foiled his plans. Leana had declined the match, wishing to steer clear of Viserys’ wrath, not willing to risk her daughters' chances to claim a dragon in the future.
Now they were leaving across the narrow sea. Leaving their home behind, and Daemon clung to his son as they mounted Caraxes.
“I promise, Baelon, someday you will have a castle greater than this. You will ride a dragon mightier than Balerion; people throughout the world will know your name.”
Baelon looked up at him and smiled, and Daemon leaned down to place a kiss on his head. Then Caraxes roared as they began their new adventure.
***
Ten Years Later
Daemon awoke with a weight on his chest. Opening his eyes, he looked down at a head of brunette curls. Baelon had crawled into his bed once more in the mirror of the night. Wrapping an arm around his son, he kissed his messy head, and Baelon stirred awake.
“Good morning, my little dragon,” said Daemon in High Valyrian.
“Good morning, Kepa,” responded Baelon, staring up at Daemon with large violet eyes.
“Did you have the dream again?” Baelon nodded, and Daemon sighed, pulling his son close. Baelon had begun having strange dreams in the last couple of months, of a place filled with ice with something calling to him.
Daemon had quickly dismissed it as childish nightmares but hadn’t objected when his son sought him out for comfort. His bedroom door always stayed open so his son could sneak into his chambers whenever he needed his father.
“Father, can we fly today? I want to try my broom again,” Daemon sighed and nodded, eliciting a bright smile from Baelon. Daemon would never know where his son had got the idea, but one day he arrived to find him floating several feet above the ground while sitting on a broom.
“Look, papa,” he yelled excitedly as Daemon watched in awe. “I can fly like you.” At first, Daemon had objected; a broom was no replacement for a dragon. But Baelon had insisted; he’d crafted a broom from the wood of a weirwood tree, and soon he was flying around the keep without abandon. Many of the locals had been terrified of his son and his strange powers, but Daemon had only grown more proud.
They were nothing but insects. His son was a dragon; the blood of Old Valyria flowed through his veins. He’d heard of Viserys’ brats with the green whore from across the sea. None of their cradle eggs had hatched, and Daemon had learned the news with glee. He had no doubts in his mind that if his son had been given an egg, as was his right as a Targaryen, his egg would have hatched.
They were living in Pentos as guests of a magistrate, but soon they would leave once more. Since leaving Westeros, they had traveled far and wide, from Volantis, Norvos, Qohor, and finally Pentos.
There was a knock on the door, and soon a servant entered as Daemon got dressed. The poor girl went bright red before bowing.
“My prince, a letter has just arrived for you from Westeros.” He took the letter, and she scurried away.
He scanned the letter, expecting another summons from his brother. Viserys had written to him many times, offering to allow him back home if Daemon bent the knee and submitted to his demands. He even offered to reinstate Baelon as heir to Runestone if Daemon betrothed Baelon to Heleana.
Each letter had been tossed in the flames and remained unanswered. The one time his brother had dared to send a knight demanding Daemon’s return to Westeros, Daemon had sent him back the knight’s head.
“It appears our time in Pentos is at its end,” said Daemon, looking down at the letter in his hand. “Lady Leana has died; we have been invited to pay our respects.”
Baelon looked up at father curiously. Leana was the mother of the twins his father tried to court as possible brides.
“How did she die?” asked Baelon, jumping from the bed and landing on the carpet gracefully.
“It appears the birthing fever took her and the son she was carrying. Her funeral will take place at Driftmark.”
“The seat of House Velaryon,” said Baelon, remembering his lessons.
“Yes,” said Daemon with a smile. “We will show up to Driftmark and pay our respects. We shall show them all what a true dragon looks like.”
Baelon smiled, and he nodded excitedly. He’d see his cousins again and meet his possible brides Baela and Rhaena. He would show his uncle, the king, what a true dragon was. He might not have a dragon now, but someday Baelon would ride a mighty beast. Then he would take back what his uncle had stolen from him.