The solar they had been granted a square chamber high in the keep's eastern wing. Baelon sat at a heavy oak desk near the window, sleeves rolled to the elbow.
His hair, which he had grown over the years, was tied back in a loose knot that always seemed to fall apart by day's end. His desk was cluttered with scrolls, maps, and half-empty ink pots, the organised chaos of a young boy.
He bent low over the page, quill racing across its surface.
'Tensions in the Riverlands have settled somewhat upon our arrival.
However, the lords remain on edge, unsurprising, considering the fate of the Strongs.
Preliminary inquiry bears little fruit. Larys Strong appears to be the main beneficiary of the incident,
yet no evidence ties him to the tragedy.
Furthermore, he remained in King's Landing throughout the period in question, eliminating him from
major suspicion…'
He paused, tapped the quill against the rim of the ink pot, then resumed writing with mechanical precision.
Nearby, Helaena sat curled in a cushioned chair, her legs tucked beneath her, gently flipping through a stack of letters and reports.
Nevertheless, as her eyes scanned a letter, her expression shifted between mild curiosity to quiet concern.
"Baelon," she called softly.
He hummed, distracted, still writing.
"Baelon." This time louder.
He blinked, finally looking up as she rose and approached.
She extended an unfolded letter to him. "I think you should read this."
Her face held that peculiar mixture of worry and frustration that always meant one thing.
She had found something he would not like.
Baelon accepted the parchment, opening it carefully. His eyes scanned the lines, and his brows climbed higher with each sentence.
'…strange burn patterns discovered east of Harrenhal… villagers whisper strange rumours…
…a fisherman claims to have seen a large shadow pass over the waters of the Gods Eye in the early morning… too large for any bird… moved like…'
Baelon exhaled sharply, leaned back, and pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead.
"Great. Brilliant, even." He slumped into his chair with a groan, letting the letter fall loosely onto his chest before he caught it again. "What in the Seven hells is happening to this world…"
Baelon knew exactly what this information alluded to.
Helaena stepped behind him without a word. Her cool hands settled gently on his shoulders, thumbs moving in slow circles.
He felt the familiar effort she made to soothe, even though she herself looked as though she needed it just as badly.
"Calm down, brother," she murmured. "This wasn't entirely unexpected. And even then, we must first confirm whether any of this is true."
"I know, Helaena." His voice was rough with frustration. He reached up and clasped her hands, clinging to the touch as though it grounded him. "But if dragons were involved… it means either House Velaryon or our madman of an uncle were involved with this."
She said nothing, only continued her slow, comforting motions.
Baelon let out a breath that was half laugh, half defeated sigh.
"Dammit. Us and our silly plans." He tilted his head back slightly. "Gambling to see if we can change the future. If not for that, we'd likely be halfway across the world by now. Off the continent. Free of this… lunacy."
Knock. Knock.
The sound cut through the room, disrupting his words.
Helaena's hands retreated at once. She slid silently to his side, posture straightening as her expression slipped into the poised neutrality expected of a princess.
Baelon raised an eyebrow at the speed of her change, but pushed the thought aside.
"Come in," he called.
The door swung open, and a young servant stepped inside, head bowed, clutching a small scroll case with both hands.
He held a nervous look, either from the letter's urgency or simply for the fact that he stood before two dragonriders.
"My prince, my princess," he said, his eyes catching them before promptly lowering his head again. "A raven has arrived from King's Landing. The message bears your names… and requests your immediate attention."
Alas, Baelon realised his time here may be cut surprisingly short.
***
In the throne room, Viserys regarded the pair before him with a mixture of apology and exasperation. He had sent them out days ago on urgent business, only to recall them almost immediately.
"…dragon trails were reported in Harrenhal's eastern grounds, and to its south, eyewitnesses claim to have seen large beasts flying overhead. We did not, however, have the time to confirm these reports." Baelon's voice rang out.
"You have done well, Baelon." Viserys' pride shone through as he smiled at his son, his chest swelling at the sight of the young man standing confidently before him.
Baelon wore a simple yet elegant dull-blue doublet, tailored to allow ease of movement, and a sword hung sheathed at his waist.
Beside him, Helaena mirrored his poise, her own long silver hair catching the light. She too wore a blue ensemble, though softer in shade and in the form of a dress.
Viserys' eyes lingered on their outfits. The typical black and green that plagued his court was absent from them. He knew it was a quiet contempt from them towards the rot of his court.
Clearing his throat, Viserys shifted on the throne. "As you may know from my letter, I bring ill tidings. Your aunt, Laena, has passed away. Her funeral is soon to be held in Driftmark." He leaned slightly forward, hands resting on the armrests, his gaze sweeping over the two children. "You should ready yourselves. We depart in two days time."
At his words, Baelon and Helaena exchanged a subtle glance, an indescribable glint in their eyes upon.
"Of course, Father." Baelon inclined his head in agreement, steady and composed.
Helaena, however, remained momentarily lost in her own thoughts, her eyes distant, her posture reserved beside him.
Viserys felt the familiar pang of worry as he watched her.
This daughter of his had grown reclusive, speaking little to anyone but Baelon, retreating behind a wall of quiet that only seemed to strengthen with each passing year.
He rubbed his forehead, feeling the tension gather in the crease between his brows, before recalling another pressing matter.
"Damn it, I remember now," he muttered, settling back into the throne with a weary exhale. His chin rested on his palm, elbow planted firmly on the armrest. "Your mother… she has again mentioned interest in your marriages. You'd best make your way to her chambers. She should be there by now, expecting you."
Hearing his words, the siblings immediately had their features clouded.
Was it frustration?
Annoyance?
Perhaps, both.
Viserys could not tell, and it pained him that he could not.
He had learned from Rhaenyra's case that forcing children into marriages, no matter how politically expedient, only bred resentment, rebellion, and sorrow.
Yet, his own weakness bound him still.
Preventing him from confronting Alicent, from demanding that she refrain from arranging their futures according to her ambition rather than their happiness.
He sank back against the throne, hands resting heavily on the arms, and let a quiet grief settle over him.
'I'm sorry, little ones,' he mourned inwardly, the words heavy as stone in his chest. '…for you to have a father as incompetent as I.'
***
Knock. Knock.
Baelon rapped lightly on the polished door of his mother's chamber, frustration brewing within him.
They had been recalled from the Riverlands, all the way to King's Landing on urgent notice, and now they had to deal with their mother.
Who, whilst she still loved them, had her own selfish agenda.
"Come in," Alicent called, her voice warm and gentle.
Baelon pushed the door open without waiting for further invitation. The chamber smelled faintly of lavender and old parchment.
The fire in the hearth crackled softly, muting the echoes of their footsteps as they approached their mother, who sat by the bedside, hands folded neatly in her lap, her face lighting up with a smile as she saw them.
"Welcome back," Alicent said, rising slightly to greet them. "I hoped your journey was fruitful. The keep has felt… dull, so quiet, with you both constantly away." Her eyes softened as she looked at them.
"Of course, Mother," Baelon replied, bowing his head slightly. "We have carried out Father's duties and returned."
"I believe you know why you are here." Alicent's voice was calm as she spoke. "You have both passed your eleventh name day. It is time I began to consider possible engagements for you."
Gently, she reached out and took their hands, guiding them to sit on either side of her by the bedside.
Turning her gaze to him first, she began softly, almost conversationally. "Tell me, my son, have you given any thought to the ladies I introduced you to at the last banquet?" Her fingers tightened ever so slightly around his. "A man of your status should choose a wife who is both beautiful and obedient. One who will honour your name, your house, and your legacy."
"I apologise, mother," Baelon answered, his tone dull. "But I do not wish to be married yet."
He truly did not want to bother with this farce, but he did not want to completely break off his relationship with his mother.
At least not yet. After all, he still cared for her despite the conflicting emotions he held for her.
Alicent's expression flickered with frustration, though she masked it behind a gentle laugh. "That is fine, Baelon. It is your wish, of course, that is most important. But you must remember you are a member of this house and it is your duty to strengthen it."
His mother then turned her attention to Helaena. "And you, my sweet girl, when shall we confirm your engagement to Aegon, your eldest brother? It is time to solidify your future, to ensure your place at court, and to bear heirs worthy of our house."
She reached to hold Helaena's hand, but her daughter pulled away smoothly, leaving Alicent grasping at empty air.
"My dearest," Alicent continued, her voice taking on a softer, coaxing tone, "you must understand, this marriage is not merely for appearances. It will strengthen Aegon's position at court, protect our family, and secure your future as a Targaryen. Imagine… legitimate heirs, a house that stands unbroken, respected and revered. All of us benefit from this, even Baelon."
She leaned closer as she spoke. "Do you not wish to do right by your family? To honour your father, your house… and me?"
Baelon, hearing this, felt even more annoyed than when his mother talked about his own marriage. 'As expected of the queen, realising she cannot force us, she decided to use guilt and emotion instead…'
He felt a wave of exhaustion pass over him; he could not imagine having to deal with this every day.
Ignoring her mother, Helaena raised her violet eyes, meeting with Baelon's own as they shared a small nod.
"I am tired, Mother," Helaena said finally, her voice soft with a sense of finality. "I would like to rest for the night."
Baelon rose beside her in a synchronised manner. Before Alicent could respond, they had moved to leave the chamber, their presence retreating as quickly and quietly as it had arrived.
Just as he was about to leave, Baelon threw one last glance at his mother. She remained seated, her hands folded in her lap once more, staring at the now-empty spaces beside her.
'If you knew this was the result, why bother…' He shook his head and then, with Helaena, left.