Chapter 9
"You did well," said Daemon as soon as they were back in their quarters. Baelon put a hand on the door, warding their room.
"I could have healed Aemond," said Baelon guiltily. "But I hate how they treat you, Father. I hate not having a home. I hate that I can’t marry who I want. I hate that I can’t have a dragon."
Baelon sat down on a chair. Flying on a broom was nice, and his magic was great, but the chance to ride a dragon was something he would never have, something even Aemond was able to do now that he had claimed Vhagar.
Daemon’s eyes softened as he knelt down to meet his son at eye level. He put a hand on Baelon’s cheek and pressed a kiss to his forehead.
“Never forget you are a dragon. The blood of old Valyria runs thick through your veins, more than any of the green whore’s whelps. That is why they fear you. The gods blessed you, not them. Your time will come; a thousand years from now, your name will outlast them all.”
Baelon felt his eyes sting, and he wrapped his arms around his Kepa’s neck.
“Remember, it’s us against the world.”
***
"I knew Daemon was selfish, but this!" Viserys was seething with rage. "He’d let my son be maimed all for his petty revenge."
"Your Grace, I had hoped my fears were unfounded, but I was wrong. You must act now," insisted the Hand. Daemon had just handed him a perfect opportunity on a silver spoon platter. "Take the boy from Daemon; he is still young. Do not let your brother's influence grow less he turns the boy against you further."
"No," said Viserys with a sigh. "Baelon was right about one thing. This is all my fault. Had I not stripped him of his inheritance, he might have been more willing to heal Aemond."
"So what will you do?"
"I must speak with the boy alone. Without his father’s influence. Perhaps he can be made to see reason without his father in his ear."
"As you wish, Your Grace."
***
"This is all your fault," yelled Aemond as Aegon drank his wine. It was the middle of the night, and Aegon was already drinking.
"How is this my fault?" said Aegon. "You are the moron that let a boy take out your eye."
"I’m not talking about that," snarled Aemond. "I am talking about Baelon. If you hadn’t insulted him, he might have healed me."
"How was I supposed to know the stories were true?" shrugged Aegon nonchalantly. "You are not the only one hurt here." Aegon held up his wrapped wrist, and Aemond glared at him with his last eye.
"Don’t compare yourself to me," Aemond held a hand to his missing eye. Baelon could heal him. He could make him whole again; he must find a way to force him to.
And Luke, the little bastard, would pay for this. He’d make sure of it.
***
"You wished to see me," Baelon stood before the king. Four Kingsguard stood at his side, with Ser Criston glaring daggers at him, his hand on his sword. Daemon had protested loudly when a guard had requested Baelon’s presence alone. Only Baelon’s assurances that he would be alright had eased Daemon’s worries.
"Should they move to hurt you, show no mercy," Daemon had whispered in Baelon’s ear.
"Fire and blood," Baelon had responded with a nod, and a smile had formed on his father’s face. Since Baelon was young, his father had sought to train Baelon in battle. He placed his first sword in Baelon’s hand at four.
But Baelon’s magical fighting prowess had also been developed. He’d had arrows shot at him and deflected them with magic. He could disarm people with a simple “Expelliarmus,” and he could cast a stinging curse that could burn the victim for days, remnants of a life Baelon could no longer fully remember.
"Nephew," said Viserys with a sigh. "I am sorry that we haven’t had the chance to meet before."
"You are the king," said Baelon with a shrug. "I am sure you are very busy. Not to mention, I’ve been living across the Narrow Sea."
"I am sorry for the distance between us," said Viserys with regret clear in his voice. "But I want things to be different in the future."
The door opened behind him, and Baelon watched as the Hand walked into the room. He held his head high and glared at Baelon coldly as he stood beside the king.
"We have an offer for you," said the Hand, pulling out a piece of parchment.
"What for?" asked Baelon, staring up at the Hand coldly.
"I know you have felt slighted by your circumstances," said Viserys. "Allow me to remedy that."
Otto stepped forward, handing the parchment to Baelon, who took it disinterested.
"What is this?"
"Terms for your cooperation. In exchange for healing Prince Aemond and making vows of fealty before the lords of the realm, you will receive a keep of your own in the Crownlands, a generous stipend from the crown, and a place at the king's court as his cupbearer."
"I want Runestone," said Baelon, turning to the king.
"I cannot strip Lord Royce of Runestone without cause. It could cause problems with the Vale."
"Can I claim a dragon?"
Both Otto and Viserys met each other’s eyes, and Baelon took the parchment and flung it in the air.
"Incendio!"
The parchment burst into flames, and Otto and Viserys stepped back. Ashes fell onto the rug, and Baelon glared at the king.
"If I can’t have a dragon and I can’t have Runestone, then Aemond will never have his eye."
"Would you dare defy your king?" growled Lord Hightower.
"He is a king. But he is not my king. I have no allegiance to Westeros after he forced me to spend my life in exile."
"You speak, but Daemon’s words come out. I offered him generous terms as well. A Princess for your bride and lordship over Runestone, and he declined. He is the reason for your troubles," said Viserys.
"Runestone was rightfully mine," snapped Baelon. "I will never marry your daughter. I would have gladly sworn fealty if your family hadn’t treated me as they had. Your queen called me a demon, and your son a bastard."
"So that’s what this is, revenge," said Viserys.
"I only want what is rightfully mine. Runestone and a dragon, and until I get it, I will never swear fealty or heal Aemond."
"I am sorry for that," said Viserys with a sigh. "Seize him!"
Ser Criston was the first to move, and Baelon turned to him angrily.
"Crucio!"
The scream let out by Criston Cole made the entire room flinch. They watched in horror as the knight fell to the floor, his body spasming uncontrollably. He screamed in pain, and Baelon stepped forward with a grin on his face.
Finally, the horrible screaming stopped. Ser Criston gasped for breath as he lay unconscious, and Baelon looked down at him with a frown.
"Pathetic, is this all your Kingsguard has to offer, Uncle?"
"It is treason to attack a Kingsguard," said Otto, pale-faced, and Baelon rolled his eyes.
"He moved against me first." Bending down, Baelon grabbed a knife from Criston’s belt, tossing it at his uncle’s feet.
"You’ll have to kill me, Uncle. Use the knife and do the deed yourself."
"You’re mad," growled Otto, before Baelon waved his hand, and the man’s voice got stuck in his throat. Baelon stepped forward, and all the guards suddenly found their feet glued to the ground.
Picking up the knife, Baelon placed it in his uncle’s hand. Holding the blade to his neck, he looked up at the king.
"Kill me, Uncle, it is the only way. But I warn you, the moment I die, my father will burn the Seven Kingdoms to the ground." Viserys grit his teeth, and Baelon smiled. "A dragon is not a slave, Uncle. You were a fool to think you could control me."
"I only did what I thought was best," defended Viserys. "You should have been raised around your family. If Daemon had only seen reason."
"I will not rise against you, for no man is more cursed than the kinslayer. I only ask to be left alone. Aemond will have his eye back, the moment a dragon and Runestone are given to me and not a moment before."
Then Baelon turned and walked out of the door. Opening it with the wave of his hand, he walked out of the room, leaving Viserys in silent shock.