Do not be deceived by King Viserys's usual geniality. The ever-placating smile, the gentle voice, the habit of smoothing every conflict into submission. When his temper truly broke free, it was more than most could endure.
"B-but…"
Alicent's voice faltered. Her hands tightened around the sleeves of her gown, fingers trembling despite her effort to remain composed. Tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision.
She could not bear to part with them. The thought alone felt like her heart being torn from her chest.
Before Viserys could speak again, Baelon stepped forward.
"It is all right, Alicent," he said softly, his tone measured and calm. He inclined his head slightly toward her, a gesture of reassurance rather than authority. "You may travel to Harrenhal with Aegon and the others. I have no intention of separating you by force."
Alicent blinked, startled, and looked up at him.
Baelon continued, his gaze steady. "I understand how you feel. Truly. But I hope you can also understand my feelings, and my uncle's. Aegon, Aemond, and the others are true dragons. They belong to House Targaryen, to noble blood."
He paused, allowing the words to settle.
"You were born a Hightower, yes," he went on, not unkindly, "but you are also their mother. I ask only that you place yourself correctly."
For a woman like Alicent, whose entire world revolved around her children, threats meant nothing. Intimidation would only harden her resolve. Her sole weakness had always been the same.
Aegon. Aemond. and Helaena.
So Baelon struck precisely there, not with force, but with patience. He explained again and again, never raising his voice, appealing to her reason and her heart in equal measure.
Gradually, Alicent's breathing slowed. The tightness in her shoulders eased. Her tears did not vanish, but they no longer threatened to spill over.
In truth, she did not desire power or triumph. She wanted only her children's safety, and an end to the suffocating loneliness that had haunted her for years.
At Harrenhal, Baelon would give her both.
In the end, Alicent Hightower was little more than a tragic figure, swept along by the tide of her age, forced into every decision she had ever made.
Pressed by Rhaenyra. Pressed by Otto Hightower. Pressed even by Viserys himself.
Now, all she needed was a place quiet enough, safe enough, to breathe.
Viserys cleared his throat, the tension broken by a faint chuckle.
"Since I have been thinking of taking a short rest myself," he said, half-joking, half-tempted, "why not let me come to Harrenhal with you?"
Baelon's eyelid twitched.
He turned slowly toward the king, his expression carefully neutral. "Best not, Uncle. You are the king. The realm and its governance require you here. And if you go, Otto will have to follow as Hand. Then what would be the point of moving Aegon and the others at all?"
Inside, Baelon rolled his eyes.
Rhaenyra's foolishness truly ran in the blood. That talent for brilliant ideas at the worst possible moment. Exactly the same.
"Oh," Viserys said, blinking. His smile returned, sheepish and apologetic. "Yes. That would be… inappropriate."
As the head of House Targaryen, he should be the one holding the sky above the next generation.
Come then, Otto.
Baelon watched the sudden spark of resolve light in Viserys's eyes and felt the corner of his mouth twitch.
Was it just him?
Why did Viserys, and even Rhaenyra, feel subtly different than before?
With the matter settled, Baelon lived by one creed.
Speed is life.
Carriages were prepared at once. Alicent and her children would leave King's Landing without delay.
Before departing, Baelon turned back to Viserys.
"Uncle," he said quietly, "once I am gone, transfer command of the City Watch to Jason Lannister. He will be a blade hanging over Otto's head in the capital."
Jason had served as Baelon's deputy throughout his tenure and knew the Watch intimately. Assuming command would be effortless.
Viserys nodded. "Do not worry," he said with a smile. "I will not hand your Dawn Iron Guard to anyone else."
Baelon inclined his head. "Then I will take my leave. When I have the chance, I will ride back on dragonback with Aegon and the others to visit you."
Mounted upon the white stag, Baelon lifted one hand in farewell. The cavalry moved as one, hooves striking stone, the carriages rolling behind him as King's Landing disappeared into the distance.
Third objective complete.
The remaining two would take time.
And to achieve them, he would need not only Jason's help, but also the cooperation of Rhaenyra's so-called ally.
Larys.
That evening, the party arrived at Harrenhal by way of the kingsroad.
Yet among the travelers stood one uninvited guest.
"Rhaenyra," Baelon said, rubbing his temple as he looked at her. She stood before him in dragonrider leathers, posture proud, chin lifted. "Uncle needs you in King's Landing. With Alicent and the children gone, he has only you left."
She folded her arms, lips pursed. "It was Father who ordered me to come," she said, a faint pout creeping into her voice. "Do you truly think I wished to follow you? You were far more obedient when you were younger."
"Do not cause trouble," Baelon replied flatly. He met her gaze without blinking. "Every time you have one of those brilliant ideas, you will report to me in person. If I say no, you do not do it."
His plans here concerned nothing less than reshaping the future pillars of the Greens.
There could be no variables.
Rhaenyra was the only variable in Harrenhal.
"I am the future queen," she protested, cheeks flushing. "How can you be this domineering?"
"A queen?" Baelon smirked faintly. "The queen who cried in my bed? Or the queen who needs me to dress her every morning?"
He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "And for the record, this is Harrenhal. My territory. You will listen to me here, Your Grace."
Color flooded her face, embarrassment overwhelming her indignation. That night of tearful collapse on his bed had forever shattered her image of unshakable elder-sister dignity.
After issuing the warning, Baelon personally arranged Alicent's and the children's lodgings, placing them close to his own chambers as a sign of trust.
After a single night's rest, Baelon began preparations for Aegon and Aemond's training.
Given their age, he did not burden them with heavy martial instruction. Instead, their days were filled with language, law, literature, and history.
"What?" Aegon groaned, slumping over the table. "We leave King's Landing and still have to study High Valyrian? And twice the workload?"
Books lay spread before him, untouched. His expression was one of pure misery.
"No," Baelon said coolly, lifting a ruler and tapping it against his palm. "You do not even know basic Valyrian vocabulary. I mastered this language at six. How old are you now?"
He gestured toward the others.
"Look at your sister and brother. They are studying seriously. As the eldest, you will set the example."
Aegon swallowed.
"Fail again," Baelon added, eyes sharp, "and this will not be for show."
This was the first step in reshaping the three children. Study would instill discipline. Authority would instill fear. Together, they would plant the image of a strict teacher firmly in their minds.
Aegon pouted, but he did not dare defy his cousin. Instead, he turned helplessly toward his mother.
Alicent saw his plea.
She said nothing.
She loved her children, but she also wished for them to become better. If they could become even a little like Baelon, it would be enough.
Raised in the Red Keep, Baelon's brilliance had always been undeniable.
With his guidance, perhaps Aegon and the others could truly learn something after all.
---------
A/N: If you think you know what comes next… you don't. The answers are already waiting ahead.
There are 35+ advance chapters on Patreon,
If you've enjoyed the story so far, this is the moment you don't want to miss.
www.patreon.com/Baelon
Send the stones this way. Okay???