Fire and Blood

Chapter 6: Collapse of Familial Ties

King's Landing ― Near the outskirts of the Blackwater Rush...

The wind had blown gently as lords of the royal court had gathered around outside the city walls. Several days passed since Queen Aemma Arryn and the newborn Prince Baelon died, and now it was time for their funeral. Their bodies were wrapped in separate bundles, doused in flammable material for the funeral pyre to be lit. As per Targaryen customs in the tradition of their Valyrian ancestors, when a member of House Targaryen dies, they are to be cremated by dragon flame and have their ashes interred beneath the Red Keep.

Perched on a nearby cliff were the dragons Vaelor and Syrax. Between the two, Vaelor was the larger dragon measuring 139 feet in length compared to Syrax's 60 feet. The young she-dragon softly vocalized at her kin, but the Swiftrunner snorted and gave a low rumble. Few could tell what both dragons were thinking about, but they were fierce and intelligent beasts - able to understand their rider's feelings.

Mourners dressed in black, lowering their heads in acknowledgment. But for some, it was more personal than others.

King Viserys, wracked with grief and in a near catatonic state, simply stared at his deceased wife and son's remains. For almost a year, he claimed to have had a dream envisioning the birth of a second son to stand beside his firstborn to bring about a new age of dragonriders. But it failed. His wife was dead, his son Baelon died mere hours after being born, and his heir Aeonar refused to speak to him - calling him all sorts of awful names, cursing his father for his actions, and blaming him for his mother's death.

« What have you done...? What have you done? What have you done?! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!!! »

« YOU KILLED HER! YOU BASTARD! HOW COULD YOU?! YOU KILLED HER! »

I... I am so, so sorry, Aemma. Please... please forgive me... I am so sorry... 'Was it worth it?' he often asked himself. Knowing what he knows now, Viserys believed too late that the cost was not worth losing his family over. He'd give anything to take it all back, to fix the damage he caused, but he could not. And the king had to live with that for the rest of his life.

Rhaenyra wept bitterly at the loss of her mother. She had learned of her death during the tournament from one of her brother's agents and was beside herself. Dressed in all black, she was visibly struggling to contain her grief. She briefly glanced at Aeonar, but he did not look at her - instead, his eyes drifted between their mother and glaring daggers at their father.

"They're waiting for you two," Daemon whispered. Although the rogue prince can see his nephew's and niece's anger towards Viserys, he continues to urge them to support their father - though none of them appear to consider it now. The wound was simply too raw.

Alicent, meanwhile, stood between Aeonar and Rhaenyra. She sympathized with the royal family's grief and wanted to support them by being at their side in their hour of need. Yet at the same time, she could detect a sense of hostility in the air. Gently brushing her fingers across Aeonar's hand, Alicent was surprised to see Aeonar slowly accept her hand in his own while continuing a hardened stare at Viserys.

Aeonar, unable to shed any more tears, continued staring coldly at Viserys - knowing full well that his father was unable to look him in the eye. Istan ziry odre ziry, kepa? Istan se dorolvie jēda hen issa lēkia's glaeson odre sēnagon issa muñnykeā? (Was it worth it, father? Were the few hours of my brother's life worth killing my mother?) he thought resentfully.

"Ñurho valonqro paghyro jēdunna... (I wonder if, during those few hours my brother lived...)," Rhaenyra mourned bitterly, "lo tolijī kepa ñuha kirimvī ziry jeldan syt. (My father finally got what he wanted.)" Say something, Aeonar. Anything. This is our mother...