Baelon - Brothers
81 AC
—You can’t possibly be serious! Baelon was seething as they left their father’s solar.
“Why not? It’s the truth,” Aemon replied, his voice calm, and measured.
Baelon scowled. “Not after what happened. Aegon has disgraced himself—he's no longer fit to be Father’s heir. You should—”
“No, you listen, Baelon.” Aemon halted abruptly, spinning on his heel to face him. “Those are dangerous words. If Father disinherits Aegon, he invites chaos. No matter who is named king, it would mean war.”
Baelon let out a harsh laugh. “War? War’s already at our door with Aegon’s reckless behavior. How can you keep defending him after all he’s done?”
Aemon sighed, weariness lining his face. “I’m not defending him. I’m trying to preserve peace. As long as we stay close, we can guide him, temper his worst impulses.”
Baelon barked a bitter laugh. “Guide him? He hates us! What’s to stop him from dismissing us the moment Father’s gone? You’re delusional, Aemon.”
Aemon’s expression darkened, but he held firm. “You don’t know him like I do. He won’t cast us aside. Aegon wants the throne, yes—but he’s not the second coming of Maegor.”
Baelon shook his head, voice rising. “He humiliated Jocelyn before the entire court! And me? He acts as if I’m some brute too simple for council. He’s beyond reason. You keep coddling him as if he’ll suddenly change.”
“The lords remember the bloodshed of Maegor’s reign. We cannot let history repeat itself.”
Baelon exhaled sharply, jaw tight. “So we just endure his arrogance? Watch him drag us all down with him?”
Aemon’s voice dropped to a whisper. “We endure. We must stand united. And after…” He trailed off, gaze lingering, words unsaid but heavy with meaning.
Baelon’s lips curled into a grimace. “You mean to wait. Hope he sees reason? Or that his son will be better?”
Aemon’s gaze was steady. “Aerys is a good boy. With guidance, he could be the king our house needs—tempered, wise. If we stay close, we can ensure the realm survives this storm.”
Baelon’s fists clenched at his sides. “And if he fails? If we let this rot fester, we doom our children to clean up the mess we were too weak to face.”
Aemon’s voice was gentle but unyielding. “We are not weak, Baelon. We are patient. We will not break our family apart.”
Baelon turned away, chest heaving.
83 AC
The salty breeze of the Narrow Sea carried the sharp cries of gulls and the rhythmic lap of waves against the shore. Baelon Targaryen stood barefoot on the sands of a beach in the Stepstones, his dragon-scale boots discarded beside him, his long silver hair stirring in the wind. His two sons, Viserys and Daemon, stood beside him, their young faces lit with boyish determination as they watched their father demonstrate the proper way to skip a stone across the water.
Baelon crouched low, his muscular frame relaxed despite the tension in his arm. "It’s all about the angle," he said, his voice rich with mirth. "Too steep, and it sinks. Too shallow, and it won’t bounce. Watch closely, lads." With a flick of his wrist, the smooth stone arced through the air and kissed the water’s surface three times before disappearing into the waves.
"Three skips! That’s easy, Father," Viserys said, puffing his chest and grabbing a stone. The boy's silver hair gleamed in the sun, his serious expression undermined by his gangly arms as he tried to imitate Baelon. The stone flopped into the water with a dull plunk.
Baelon’s laugh boomed across the shore. "A valiant effort, Viserys! Daemon, your turn—let's see if you can outdo your brother."
Daemon, younger and smaller than his brother but with a spark of mischief in his violet eyes, stepped forward. "I’ll make it bounce more than you!" He hurled his stone with all his might, but it flew wild, narrowly missing the waves altogether.
Baelon’s laugh echoed across the shore. "Patience, Daemon. Power is nothing without control."
Before either boy could retort, a familiar voice cut through the air. "Power and control? Those sound like fine lessons, but let me show you how it’s really done."
Alyssa Targaryen approached with a confident stride, barefoot like her husband and wearing a loose gown that swayed with the breeze. Her dirty blond hair was braided back, her cheeks flushed from the sun. Though visibly pregnant, she moved with the grace of a dragonrider, her hand resting lightly on her growing belly.
Baelon grinned, stepping aside. "Careful, wife. You’re carrying our future champion."
Alyssa smirked, bending to pick up a stone. "And our future champion will know his mother bested his father." She stood beside him, rolling the stone between her fingers before sending it flying. It skimmed the water effortlessly, skipping five times before disappearing into the sea.
Viserys and Daemon erupted into cheers, racing to hug her. "Mother wins!" Viserys declared triumphantly.
Baelon groaned in mock defeat. "I’m undone. Bested by my own wife before my sons."
Alyssa laughed, pressing a kiss to his lips before waving the boys off. "Go, play. Your father and I need a word."
The boys darted off to gather more stones, but their glances back betrayed their curiosity. Alyssa waited until they were out of earshot before turning to Baelon, her expression softening. "Father summoned you back to King’s Landing."
Baelon’s grin faltered briefly before he shrugged. "Of course he has. He knows I’m the only one who can get things done."
Her lips pressed into a thin line. "Or he wants to remind you not to get too comfortable here. The more control you take, the more it looks like you’re positioning yourself as the heir."
Baelon laughed, though there was an edge to it. "Nonsense. I’m doing what needs to be done. Aegon’s off in Essos causing trouble, and Aemon… Well, Aemon has always been the diplomat. Someone has to lead."
Alyssa stepped closer, her voice low. "That’s precisely the point, Baelon. You’re stepping into their roles so seamlessly it’s starting to look intentional. Daenerys told me Aegon sees it as a slight—thinks you’re angling to crown yourself and pass over him and Aemon."
Baelon’s jaw tightened, though he forced a smile. "Aegon brought this on himself. He made his choices, and now he’s paying for them. I’ve done nothing but my duty, Alyssa. If that’s enough to unsettle him, it says more about him than me."
Her gaze softened, but there was still a warning in her tone. "I know you, Baelon. I know how you think. You’ve never been able to hide it from me. You believe you’re the better choice, and perhaps you are—but don’t let that belief turn into ambition. Aegon is still our brother. You don’t want to make an enemy of him."
Baelon huffed, turning his gaze to the horizon. "It’s not ambition. It’s duty. If I didn’t step up, the realm would falter." But even as he spoke, the words felt heavy, as though they were dragging something darker to the surface.
Alyssa touched his arm, her voice softening further. "Just be careful. For your sake, for ours, and for theirs." She gestured to the boys, who were skipping stones again, their laughter carrying on the breeze.
With a tired smile, she kissed his cheek and made her way back to the keep’s skeleton, her pace slower now.
As she disappeared from view, Daemon came running back, his curiosity unabated. "Father, what did Mother mean about Uncle Aegon being angry?"
Baelon crouched to meet his son’s gaze, the familiar spark of mischief in Daemon’s eyes making his heart ache with pride. "Your uncle Aegon is far away, dealing with his own troubles. What your mother means is that family is complicated. Dragons clash sometimes, but it doesn’t mean we stop being family."
Viserys joined them, his brow furrowed. "But what if he thinks you’re mad at him?"
Baelon’s smile wavered for a moment before he ruffled Viserys’s hair. "That’s not something for you to worry about. Just remember this, boys: the most important thing is to protect each other. Always."
The boys nodded, though their lingering glances toward the keep betrayed their unease. Baelon stood and turned to the horizon, his expression unreadable as the sun began to dip lower, casting long shadows across the sands.
84 AC
The sun hung low in the sky, casting the Stepstones in hues of deep orange and gold. The wind carried the scent of salt and the distant cries of gulls. Baelon stood on the rocky shore, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze fixed on the horizon. Behind him, Vhagar loomed, her massive frame casting a long shadow as she rested in the sand. Not far away, the Cannibal lay curled, a dark, menacing presence, its black scales absorbing the light. The two dragons, so different, rested uneasily but without hostility.
The sound of heavy boots crunching against the rocks pulled Baelon from his thoughts. He turned to see Aegon approaching, his silver hair disheveled and his face drawn with exhaustion. There was a hollowness in his brother’s eyes, a grief so raw it seemed to radiate off him like heat from a forge.
"Why are you here?" Baelon asked, his voice more accusatory than he intended. "You’ve avoided us for years, and now you show up uninvited?"
Aegon’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, Baelon thought he wouldn’t answer. But then his brother’s voice, hoarse and low, cut through the space between them. "Meredyth is dead."
Baelon’s stomach twisted, but before he could find the words to respond, Aegon’s tone sharpened, like the edge of a blade. "She’s dead, and I never made things right. I named our son Maegor, and she hated me for it. She died hating me."
"Aegon," Baelon began, but Aegon cut him off, his voice rising.
"Don’t start, Baelon. Don’t give me your bloody platitudes. You don’t understand—how could you? You’ve got Alyssa. You’ve got your sons. You’ve always been the golden boy, Father’s favorite. The one who does everything right."
Baelon felt the anger surge before he could stop it. "You think I don’t understand loss? You think I’ve had it easy, cleaning up your messes, stepping into roles you abandoned because you couldn’t be bothered to face your responsibilities?"
Aegon’s eyes flared, and before either man could think, the first punch was thrown. Baelon struck first, but Aegon was quick to retaliate. The fight was ugly and uncoordinated, a clash of fists and fury born of years of unresolved resentment. They grappled, falling into the sand and dirt, each too stubborn to back down.
When it was over, they lay side by side, panting and bruised, their faces streaked with blood and sand. The Cannibal and Vhagar watched from a distance, their massive heads tilted as though observing the strange, ungraceful spectacle of their riders.
Baelon broke the quiet first, his voice low and rough. "Why come to me, Aegon? Why not Aemon? He’s the one who knows how to talk you down. I don’t… I don’t know how to do this."
Aegon didn’t answer right away. He stared out at the Cannibal, whose great head rested on the sand beside Vhagar’s. "Because you’d hit me," he said at last, a faint, bitter smile tugging at his lips. "And I needed to feel something other than this… emptiness."
Baelon stared up at the darkening sky, his chest heaving. "You’re a bloody idiot," he muttered.
Aegon let out a bitter laugh, then winced, touching his split lip. "And you’re a sanctimonious ass."
For a long moment, neither spoke. The waves crashed against the rocks, a rhythmic sound that filled the silence between them.
"You’re not wrong," Baelon said finally, his voice quieter now. "About me having Alyssa and the boys. I can’t imagine losing them. I don’t know how I’d… how I’d keep going."
Aegon’s breath hitched, and when he spoke, his voice was barely audible. "It’s not just losing her. It’s knowing she died thinking I was a monster."
Baelon turned his head to look at his brother. Aegon’s face was a mask of pain, his usual arrogance stripped away. For the first time in years, he looked vulnerable.
"You’re not a monster, Aegon," Baelon said softly. "You made mistakes. We all have. But you’re not beyond redemption."
Aegon let out a shaky laugh, running a hand through his matted hair. "You’re too kind, Baelon. Always have been. Maybe that’s why Father relies on you so much."
Baelon’s gaze hardened slightly. "Father relies on me because someone has to pick up the pieces. That doesn’t mean I want to take your place. You’re still the firstborn, Aegon. That hasn’t changed."
Aegon didn’t respond immediately. Instead, his gaze drifted to their dragons. "Do you think they understand us? The dragons, I mean. They fight, they rage, but in the end, they… coexist. Somehow."
Baelon followed his brother’s gaze, watching as the Cannibal shifted closer to Vhagar, the two great beasts settling side by side. "Maybe they’re wiser than we are."
For the first time that night, Aegon smiled. It was faint, but it was there. "Maybe."
Baelon frowned, his bruised face softening. He let out a long breath, his shoulders sagging. "I don’t know how to fix this, Aegon. I don’t know how to make it better."
"You can’t," Aegon said simply, his voice hollow. "She’s gone. I didn’t even get to say goodbye. And it’s my fault, Baelon. All of it. If I hadn’t—if I’d just—" He broke off, his voice cracking as tears spilled down his cheeks.
Baelon hesitated, then placed a tentative hand on Aegon’s shoulder. "You loved her," he said softly. "And she loved you, even if it didn’t end the way it should have. That’s what matters."
Aegon let out a shaky breath, his head bowed. "I didn’t deserve her."
"Maybe not," Baelon said, his tone gentler now. "But she was yours, and she knew it."
For a long time, they sat there in silence, the only sounds the crash of waves and the deep, rumbling breaths of their dragons. The tension between them hadn’t disappeared entirely, but something had shifted.
Finally, Aegon broke the quiet, his fingers digging into the sand. "I better leave. I need to take the children to Pentos—"
Baelon wiped a smear of blood from his nose, glancing sideways at his brother. "Stay for the night. Alyssa will be happy to see you."
"But—"
"Unless you want me to punch you unconscious," Baelon interrupted, his tone light but the threat unmistakable.
Aegon smirked despite himself, accepting his brother’s outstretched hand as he rose to his feet. "Ass."
"Idiot," Baelon shot back, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
As they turned toward the keep, the weight of the world seemed just a little lighter. Behind them, Vhagar and the Cannibal rose, their wings stretching wide before they settled once more, side by side in the sand.