Baelon II Velaryon is the son of Rhaenyra Targaryen. Just like his mother he was a strong willed dragon rider. Built for the clouds and forged for fire. He was meant for greatness. But the legacy of his family weighed heavily on his shoulders.
Love...
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Kingslanding.
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Helaena slept peacefully on her bed, her hair splayed open on top of her bed. She had a rough couple of days, with her mother questioning her. Whispering her scorn. Aemond avoided her like the plague, not once picking up the child. It hurt in a way, she had expected Aegon to give her the cold shoulder, not Aemond.
Helaena didn't let herself break, especially not when her son looked so gorgeous in her arms.
Her feather-white eyelashes softly blink open when she hears a familiar Barb, a sweet melody Baelon would always sing to her.
Helaena tilts her head, and she finds Baelon at his side of the bed with their child in his arms, she smiles, slowly sitting up.
Baelon turns to her, a certain softness in his eyes. "He's beautiful Helaena, you did good." Baelon whispers, cradling the newborn. "We both did." Helaena whispers
Baelon softly laughs. "I hope he has your eyes." Baelon whispers, Helaena shakes her head. "He has yours." Helaena states
....
Aemond sat alone in his chambers, he silently read a thick book, his eyes moving along the text but his mind was elsewhere.
The babe.
He knew who it looked like, he couldn't forget those eyes. His mind replayed every memory he had of them. He couldn't stand looking at the child.
Helaena looked so pleased with herself, Aemond knew. He felt it in his bones, that was Baelon's child, but it was impossible. Helaena never left court, and Baelon never visited.
Aemond sighs, setting down the book, and running a hand down his face. It's been years, so why can't he forget him?
....
Baelon watches the newborn sleep in its cradle, his heart aching. He wanted to hold it up to court and announce that the child was his.
He looks down at the book on his lap, the very first sketch of his son covers the page. Something to remember him by when he had to return home.
"I wish you didn't have to leave him." Helaena whispers "Me either." Baelon replies, his voice filled with agony. Baelon turns to Helaena. He wished he loved her, and that they were married, then this would be his home.
But he felt nothing but affection for her.
....
Baelon steps past Helaena's door, thankful the guards were alternating positions, so there was no one standing at the door.
He makes his way past the halls and towards the training yard. It's been years since he passed these walls, only ever taking the tunnels to and from Helaena's room.
Once he finds himself in the training hall, he hides behind a pillar, peering over and down at the training yard.
It was dark and empty, except for one figure, Aemond.
Baelon feels his heart jump to his throat.
Aemond looked different, he was older and more mature. Though he still carried his youth in his face, his hair was short and growing. His clothing fit awkwardly, but he was filling it out.
In his hand was a long sword, he raised it and slashed at the wooden dummy; his eyes closed off to the world and trained on his victim.
Baelon watched from above, his hand gripping his own sword. Aemond looked beautiful.
....
In Helaena's room.
A dark figure crept past the princess's bed and towards the wooden cradle. In the intruder's hand was a long dagger, glinting against the moonlight that seeped past the window.
The stalker brought his free hand up and he gripped the cradle, tilting the child into view. He silently raises the dagger up into the air, its sharp end pointed at the sleeping child.
Before he can bring the dagger down, his mouth is covered and his hand is grabbed roughly. The intruder struggles against the hold, thrashing violently.
It was Baelon who had him in a tight hold, bringing the dagger down and stabbing him in the throat with his own weapon.
The assassin gargles in pain, attempting to shout, but Baelon continues to silence him with his hand, dragging the flailing body towards the terrace.
Baelon holds the twitching body, forcing him to die in silence. The prince was furious, who the hell planted an assassin? Once the body had stilled, he stood and he made his way towards Helaena's desk, grabbing a blank note and quickly scrawling something down, to excuse his disappearance.
He needed to take the body and hide it. Whoever sent the assassin out for his son can't know he killed him. Baelon didn't process the murder he committed, adrenaline still filling his veins.
It was the first life he had ever taken.
....
Baelon makes his way up the sandy dune, the body thrown over his shoulder. He quickly cleaned the blood from Helanea's floor and made his way out towards his dragon.
He didn't want to leave, especially not when he knew someone wanted his son dead. But Baelon has to go home, he has to hire someone he can trust to protect Helaena and their child, he couldn't risk it.
Baelon drops the body in front of Vermithor, the dragon lifts his head and he eyes the body with disdain. "Ipradagon." Baelon orders
Vermithor stares at him, not moving closer to the body. He was not about to eat the dead body. "Ipradagon!" Baelon orders once again.
Vermithor seemed to roll his eyes, turning away and huffing. "Rȳbagon naejot aōha kipagīros vermithor!" Baelon orders, groaning. "Fine, I'll throw him into the ocean, come on." Baelon grunts, grabbing the body again, and dragging it up Vermithor's back.
....
Once over the ocean and at a safe distance, he dumps the body into the water, hoping that the sea life will eat the corpse.
....
A/N
Okay, I know this is an Aemond Targaryen story, but please bare with me, we are getting there.
Anyways translation for some of the high Valyrian:
Ipradagon: eat!
Rȳbagon naejot aōha kipagīros vermithor: Listen to your rider Vermithor
