Chapter 1-PROLOGUE!
PRINCE BAELOR 'BREAKSPEAR' TARGARYEN—200AC
Sometimes Baelor cursed his ancestors for robbing him and his generation of their dragons. They were Targaryens still, and yet now they were the blood of the dragon less so than in any other time in history.
Still, the end of the Dragons had been but one of the tragedies they faced. Their House had been marred with one tragedy after another. The Dance mayhaps had been the greatest of them, but Blackfyre's rebellion had not won them much support either.
His grandfather's debauchery had left behind a turbulent legacy, and now it was up to them to turn a new page in the Targaryen dynasty lest the lords of the realm grow weary of their yearly rebellions and quarrels.
Where once Dragons had kept the lords at bay, now they had to rely on favors, promises, and marriages to bind the realm together. It was better than war, though, and his father had done through these marriages and promises what none of his forefathers before him had ever managed to do.
He had brought the unruly lands of Dorne to heel, and for the first time since the start of the Conqueror's Death, the Seven Kingdoms were whole and together, and now it was upto him to keep them that way.
He was Baelor, son of Daeron, and Grandson of Aegon. He was the Hand of the King, and as the eldest of the King's children, it was his duty to help his father in keeping the realm together.
It was why he was making preparations to depart, for Lord Baratheon had just been blessed with a grandson, and the Crown had few lords as loyal and faithful as the Lord of Storm's End.
Just a few years ago, Baelor himself had led a host of Stormlanders and Dornishmen to put down Daemon and his allies, and such loyalty deserved to be rewarded. He was set to host a tournament in her celebration, and with the King busy with the matters of the realm, it fell onto him to fulfill to show the Crown's presence at such affairs to make sure that no slight was felt.
The Lord of Storm's End was an old man, and the seat would soon go to his son, Lyonel. It would do him well to acquaint himself with the man who was set to rule their neighbouring lands for years to come.
Still, as Baelor sat there scribbling a response to the Lord of Storm's End with the promise of his presence in hastilude being held in celebration for his Granddaughter's birth, he was interrupted when the doors to his solar were pushed open slowly.
Few would ever dare to enter the Hand's chambers with such impudence, yet as he glanced up, he smiled for the person at the door was amongst the few who could dare to do such a thing.
"Is my Lord Hand too busy for his wife?" and there stood his lady wife, at the doors as Baelor smiled and shook his head.
"Never," he answered, as Jena smiled and closed the doors behind her as she came in and stood beside him.
Lady Jena Dandarrion was the daughter of Lord Dandarrion, one of Lord Baratheon's bannermen who bordered the tumultuous marches. She was a bold yet beautiful woman, and though theirs had been a marriage of duty, it had not taken long for affection to bloom in between them.
She had given him two sons and had stood by him in all his troubles and duties.
He reached for the hand she had put on her shoulder and gave it a small kiss, as she rubbed his hair.
"What brings you here?" he asked as she slid herself onto his chair's arm with a slight twist.
"You ask that as if you do not wish to see me?" she teased, and he shook his head.
"Of course not," and he knew that it was nothing more than a tease, as he saw the smile on her lips.
"But it is not like you to disturb in such a way," and the orange-haired woman nodded.
"It seems like I have become quite predictable," and she glanced at the table, at the half-finished letter he was writing to her father's liege lord.
"So, you intend on going to Storm's End," she noticed, and he nodded, and it was not easy for a woman to ride away from her home so frequently, yet she had never complained.
"Aye, the King has bid me to represent the Crown at the celebrations," and the Baratheons were one of the Great Houses, and it would not do to have no one from the Crown at such an event.
"It seems like I have lost the wager then," he heard his wife sigh, and the words caught him off guard.
"A wager?" he questioned, and his mind came up with the answer at once.
"Don't tell me Matarys has struck again," and in the end, his lady wife could give him only a reluctant nod.
"I am afraid he has," and Baelor sighed, both in disbelief and rubbed his head.
"May the Gods spare us from his fortune," and Jena hit his arm.
"Don't speak of our son like that," and he really should not. Matarys was his younger son, and for all his quirks, he was a dutiful and noble child, though somehow he had inherited a taste for wagers and bets, and was not afraid to try his luck.
"I fear for our futures lest he rob us blind," and Jena smiled and shared her sentiment.
"He won't," she assured him, and if he were to continue his streak, he might end up richer than any of them.
"So, what was the wager?" he asked, for if she had come to him with this, then he definitely had a role to play in it.
"It was about the gender of Lord Baratheon's grandchild. He was certain that it would be a boy, though I believed it would be a girl," and so it was a boy, and Matarys had won once more.
"That boy, he will beggar many a man like this," Baelor feared, and Jena chuckled.
"And women," she added, as she rubbed his arm.
"So, what does our son demand in return?" he asked, and the only reason he indulged him was that, despite his youth, Matarys seemed well aware of their limitations. They had made many a wager over the years, some they had won, but most had been won by his son.
But he would not ask for much in return, and he treated it all as a little game, and so all of them were happy to indulge him as long as he kept himself bound by his limits.
"He wishes to go with you to the tourney," and Jena's words made him raise a brow.
"He knew that I would be invited?" he guessed, and the air in the room grew still at his words, as he met Jena's gaze.
"He never wagered over that," she countered, and yet if he had asked for this, then he must have somehow known that Baelor would be made to go to the Stormlands.
"We made a promise, Baelor," Jena reminded him of their vow, and he had not forgotten it as well.
"I know," and once more the questions in their minds would remain buried, and Mary's secrets would remain his own.
"So, can he come?" Jena asked, and he thought about it for a second, and he was old enough to ride a horse now, and Baelor had little to fear from him when it came to decorum and niceties over such affairs.
For all his little wagers, Matarys was well read and trained. The boy had picked up a sword in one hand, and the blade in the other, and the second he had turned four.
"Don't tell me he intends on entering the lists?" Baelor asked, and Jena's eyes narrowed.
"I would skin him alive if he dares to do such a thing," and for all her love, she could be a dragon herself.
"Moreover, he has already set a year for himself. He intends on attaining a knighthood at sixteen, a year younger than how old you were when you earned it," and that was still years away.
"Sixteen?" he questioned, and she nodded.
"I believe he does not wish to overshadow his father, so he settled on sixteen, just a year younger than you when you earned your spurs," and Baelor could not help but chuckle at that.
"A lad that young should never think like this," and for years Matarys had been asking to be made a squire, and yet he had denied him because of his age.
But perhaps it was time enough, and Valar was already a squire to the King. He would have to find someone trustworthy to raise his son, for Matarys was not as simple as his eldest.
"So, what do you say?" Jena asked him, and he could never deny her, could he?
"I see no harm in it," he agreed, and if the boy wished to see a tourney, then there was nothing wrong with it. He had been holed up at the castle ever since Blackfyre's rebellion, and perhaps it was time for him to see the outside world.
"Thank you," Jena said, and Baelor smiled.
"No need, though I want him on his best behavior for the tourney. We will be representing the Crown there, and I will not have him embarrass the Crown there," and she nodded.
"He won't," she said, and gave him a peck on the cheek as she drifted away.
"I will leave you to your letters now, my Lord Hand," and Baelor began to miss her the second their shadows parted, but he was bound by his duties.
"Will you join us for dinner?" she asked, and he nodded.
"I shall," he ordered, as she closed the doors behind her just as quietly as she had opened them, as she gave a sigh and picked up the letter once more, and realised that he would have to rewrite the whole thing because of Matarys's addition.
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