Chapter Text
The Two Kings
Chapter Four
Prince Baelor Targaryen,
The Prince of Dragonstone
209 AC
“Why are we being punished?” Daella demands. “Mya and Aerion were the ones fighting-”
“And pray tell niece,” Melody's voice calls out as she and Nestor join them, toting both sets of their twins with them, two nursemaids lingering close. “Just why it took high on an hour for it to continue? Without you calling for an adult?”
Baelor watches Daella gape, mouth open like a fish, and Mina shifts beside him, a small laugh tugging at her mouth. But she keeps her face firm. “Your mother and I were in the second set of Gardens,” she says placidly. “And yet none of you,” she says turning to even Matarys who grimaces. “Came for us.”
“Don’t bother,” Cissy says with a groan. “We tried all morning: father even will not budge-”
“No,” Nestor says. “Not for fear of your aunts and uncles I will not, especially when you were wrong.”
“Trouble, trouble, trouble,” Rhaegel whispers as he walks around the room pacing.
“He had a nightmare last night,” Alys whispers as she follows him.
“They made trouble, trouble, trouble,” Rhaegel says over his shoulder, and Alys nods.
“They did, do you want to go to the baths, my dear?” She asks as the children quiet when his hands come to his ears.
“Yes, yes, yes,” he agrees, simply turning out of the room and walking out.
Alys smiles at the Queen apologetically before following him.
“Where is aunt Aelinor?” Daella asks with a frown.
“Taking breakfast in the library,” his wife says quietly. “She woke up with a headache.”
Baelor was starting to grow one now. He was certainly regretting waking so early. He had hoped to show Mina his apologies. But she had pretended to sleep while he stroked her hair until the maids came.
Maekar and Myranda come next, Mya walking silently before Maekar and Aerion desperately trying to get Myranda’s attention. But her eyes were pointed forward, jaw set and she met his mothers eyes and nodded once.
Maekar eyes him from the moment they make it to the table and sits at the end.
Then their mother clears her throat and the children, knowing their grandmother well, silence and turn their attention to the middle of the table where she prefers to sit between all of the children.
“The Governesses, Septas, and Septons will take over your care today,” the Queen and grandmother says, voice firm. “None of you will bitch, beg, or plead your mothers, aunts, or sisters,” she says pointedly, looking directly at Mya who meets her gaze with ferocity.
But silence too.
“You will move in threes, or not at all.” Aegon groans, his head slamming against the table and Valarr and Daeron, who sit side-by-side, frown deeply at Aerion. Who glares right back once he notices.
The youngest children, Aethan, Baelon, and Aella do not seem to notice or care much. But Shaena, Nora, and Val smirk.
“You three,” Myranda says shortly. “Will be with the Governess today.”
And then they deflate.
“What am I supposed to do?” Baelon asks with a frown.
“You will follow and help the nursemaids,” Nestor says with a smile. “Keeping Maris and Matthos in line.”
“I will uncle,” Baelon promises.
Aethan groans. “Will we at least take lunch together?”
“If,” Myranda’s voice cuts out. “You all behave.”
“That’s a no,” Cissy mutters to Daella.
“Not a chance in hell,” Rhae agrees as Bella pouts.
“Eat your fucking breakfasts,” Maekar barks out, “And then go fuck off. All of you.”
“First,” Daeron says, clearing his throat, and he watches as Maekar turns green, but his mother and Myranda preen. “Dacey and I have some news.” Mina jerks, eyes flying to Melody who gapes.
“You-” Melody hisses.
“Are going to have a babe,” Dacey says proudly, hand on her belly, over Daeron’s. The table is silent for a moment, before yelling begins.
“I am going to be the favorite aunt-”
“As if Daella-”
“I will be-”
“Cousin, Cissy, you are our cousin!”
“I will teach him how to use a sword-”
“It is a girl,” Dacey says, sure, and Mina laughs.
“Only time will tell,” she says as she stands, and Melody joins her, squealing as both of them meet Dacey and Daeron with hugs and kisses.
His wife lathers the girl in sweet praise and Baelor watches with a tight jaw. One Myranda notices from across the table. Her eyes are flat, but not nearly as furious as they had been yesterday. In fact, she nods just once, before her gaze drops and turns to Daeron where her hard expression softens. Maekar, though, watches on with pride, mouth twitching though he knows his brother will be conflicted.
His age was something he was starting to bitch about more and more lately.
But Baelor knew well enough it was the invisible string that worried him. With every year added was a year less towards their destinies. Valarr though, stands and pulls Daeron into a hug, grinning wildly.
“One of your own, maybe these ones will listen.” He says with a laugh to his eldest cousin.
“If not,” Daeron says with a shrug. “I’m sure my mother will put them in line.”
Dacey hits the back of his shoulder and he scoffs.
And Baelor stands.
Valarr may be the oldest: but he would not be the first grandfather it seemed. He understood that years ago when he brought Alysanne Stark to Maekar, and again when Valarr had agreed as a boy it was a good political match.
They wrote to each other still, a pleasant thing for being so far away.
This spring, he and Matarys would be flying up North to meet the girl in person for the first time since his wedding. Daeron turns to him and grins, free, and it reminds him of Dyanna. He hugs Baelor--and the boy is no strapping soldier like his father, but neither is he weak. A good man.
“Congradulations,” he says to Daeron, before slowly dragging his gaze to his youngest brother who bares his teeth at him.
“Don’t say it-”
“Father,” Aegon says with a frown. “You are the youngest yet you will be a Grandfather fir-”
Myranda throws her head back and laughs, one that is echoed by his mother and Baelor.
“It is not a race,” Mina says with a scoff. Her hand resting on his arm. “Give your father some peace.”
“He has not done that since he was conceived,” Myranda says, and Maekar’s ears turn pink. His brother points a fork at her and narrows his brows.
“What?” Mina says, furrowing her brows as Myranda stares smugly at Maekar.
“Nothing,” Maekar snaps, but his ears are almost red--
“Ew,” Daeron says openly. “Stop flirting, you two are going to be grandparents-”
Daeron is slapped by his grandmother.
“Enjoy it, one day they will be old and wrinkly like me and bicker like your grandfather and I do,” she says, squeezing his cheek. “Oh, and what will her name be?”
The table goes quiet and Daeron clears his throat, looking at Myranda who smiles, leaning forward.
“I think it’s perfect.” She says encouragingly. Maekar frowns, his eyes darting to his eldest son.
“Dyanna,” he says, voice a little strained.
Maekar’s face tenses and Baelor feels his chest ache.
“Maekar if it’s a boy,” Daeron then adds quickly, clearing his throat as if something is stuck. “But my wife declares it is a girl-”
Maekar jerks and drops his fork, but Myranda soothes him, leaning close and whispering to him. But Maekar’s jaw stays tense as she leans away. “Dyanna is papa’s first wife?” Baelon asks Aemon, who nods.
“Our tummy mama,” Daella says. “Like mother is your tummy mama-”
“Don’t babes come out of where you-” Shaena begins and Melody snatches her face, hand over her mouth as the table gasps.
“What?” Myranda hisses. “Where the fuck-”
She tries talking, but Melody’s hand is still over her mouth.
And Mya sinks into her seat. Melody’s face begins to turn red, and Mina begins to laugh nervously.
“Oh!” She yells, gripping Baelor’s doublet as he and Maekar look at each other again while Maekar murderously contemplates strangling his good sister and Baelor wonders if how to get to him first. “Your uncle is going to be competing in the Tourney at Ashford with Valarr!”
Baelor jerks, gaping at his brother as Valarr begins to laugh. His sons were…not as skilled as his brothers at Knighthood. Even Daeron--who misliked fighting had more skill than Matarys, who was finding peace with a bow rather than a sword, had been Knighted while Matarys still remained a squire. Valarr was good. But not-
“Promise me you won’t batter me too badly, uncle?”
“It is a tourney,” Maekar says, glaring now at Mya. “Not a melee-”
“You’re participating?” Aegon yells. “I want to squire for you father!”
“I am father’s squire,” Aerion says shortly, crossing his arms.
Maekar shoots him a look that says not for much longer. Aerion had begged to be his squire when Daeron began training with his godfather and Maekar had relented easily at his second sons request. Now he looked regretful.
“You can squire for me for the Tourney,” Valarr offers and Aegon grins.
“Who am I squiring for?” Shaena asks, ripping Melody’s hand off of her face.
The table all stops to look at her strangely.
“No one,” Maekar says shortly. “You and the girls will be under the care of your new spinster aunt, Mya Royce.” Daeron chokes, and Matarys begins gasping for air to cover his laughter while Valarr actually turns away to cover his reaction.
Aerion and Mya sink further into their chairs. After a moment, Valarr turns and looks to him before he shakes his head.
“Have fun,” Daella says with a grin. Baelor raises a brow at her and she falters. “What?” Then she turns to Myranda. “Mother-”
“You all are going to be under the care of Mya when you are not with us.” She says cooly, pinning her sister with an ice cold stare. One Mya avoids by staring at her plate.
Matarys slowly turns to look at Baelor, terror on his face.
“Father-”
“You will be with Valarr and Aegon,” Maekar says tightly, crossing his arms. “Aegon--if you misbehave I swear to the Old Gods and New-”
“Why me?” Aegon demands. “Shaena is the one you have to worry about-”
A glob of scrabbled egg hits him right in the temple, bouncing off of his face as the table is rendered silent.
Aegon raises his brows in a way that mirrors his own father’s face perfectly and the children struggle behind their hands to keep their laughter in. “Shaena,” her mother says calmly. “Go back to your rooms.” The girl stops, gaping, and sits down.
“It wasn’t me,” she says, as if she had not just lobbed a handful of egg at her brother.
“We saw you,” Daeron says with a scoff. She picks up another pile, baring her teeth and Myranda stands, chair jerking backwards and scraping across the floor.
Baelor feels a strange sense of deja vu.
Slowly, Shaena drops the food onto her plate, glaring at her oldest brother who stares back at her with raised brows. Then, she juts her chin up, huffs, slides out of her chair and stomps away.
“Shaena Targaryen,” Myranda says coldly. “Do not make me make you repeat your steps ten times.” Her stomps stop instantly, but she hisses in frustration as the governess leads her away.
The door shuts and his mother leans forward with a grin. “She is a mini Maekar.”
Maekar glares at her. “Absolutely not-”
“Yes she is.” Baelor says with a sigh, leading Mina back to her chair.
“We are only having three,” Daeron mutters to his wife.
“Two,” she says back, and they nod together.
Mina clears her throat and smiles. “Breakfast?”
“Well?” His mother asks him, Maekar, and Myranda as Mina sits still next to him. “Have you three decided how to handle Lyonel Baratheon?”
The most key figure in their plan: heir to Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, since his cousin's death. Four and twenty, wild even at his wedding feast. He remembers the man, wild, loud, and handsome, but he had not been very interested in learning Baelor or Mina so much as enjoying the festivities of their wedding.
“Maekar and I will deal with him,” Myranda says off-handedly when Baelor begins to speak, she sat tucked into Maekar’s side in his quarters, Larra and Melody sitting with them. His mother sat across from him and Mina on the single seated chair and Joss walked back and forth, Nestor leaning over Melody from behind.
He falters, he and Mina slowly turning to face his brother and his wife.
“What?” Baelor says, voice calm. Joss chuckles while Larra grins at him.
“We will deal with him,” Maekar says with a shrug. “I will handle the Tourney, she will handle the politics: you deal with the rest with Valarr and Matarys.”
“Lyonel Baratheon is more than politics and Tourneys,” he says with a scoff.
“Aye, sailing, dancing, drinking, and whoring,” Myranda says as she waves her hand off. “I hear he is better able to handle himself than Adrian, and he apparently drank him under the table at your wedding festivities. The heirs to the throne need not dabble in the debauchery.”
Baelor gapes at her.
“He’s a boy,” Maekar scoffs. Myranda rolls her eyes, looking over her shoulder back at him.
“Then am I a girl? He is older than-”
“Knock it off,” he bites back as he toys with one of the braids in her hair. She looks at Larra and rolls her eyes. He smirks and tugs her braid and she swats at him without looking at him.
“The courtiers of Dorne said he enjoys those who play hard to get, you will have to play the long game.” Larra says with a laugh.
“I’ve dealt with men like him before when I went to the Eyrie.” Myranda says, and then wrinkles her nose. “Well, not first hand. But at least I have a husband now, rather than a flighty uncle. It will allow me to retreat and feint when needed too.”
“What?” Mina says, gaping. He turns to Maekar and sits forward.
“You-”
Maekar rolls his eyes. “He can flirt all he wants: he knows I’ll burn his keep to the ground if he tries anything.”
But--he knows his brother. And the subtle shift of his fingers tells him--
Later.
“Oh, fear not,” Myranda says. “We deal with Dragon babes, toddlers, boys and girls, and teenagers. I can handle a single Stag hitting his manhood. And Maekar will be there.”
“His manhood will be exactly what he wants handled,” Joss says with a laugh.
“Which is why you will be assigned to my wife.” Maekar says pointedly. “And will not be leaving her side when I am not able to be with her.”
Joss looks at Myranda for a moment and she winks while he salutes at her with a grin.
“It will be fun Joss. This time you won’t have to mind the children. Just an unruly-”
“What in the Seven?” Mina says, gaping. “Is that why you were reading up on sailing the other day?”
Myranda turns and grins. “I was looking more for euphemisms, but yes, precisely.”
“Euphamisms?” Mina says, voice high.
“Double and triple meanings,” Larra says as she pats Myranda’s lap. “Stormlanders are tricky too.”
“Besides, he is our liege Lord.” Maekar groans at his wife, head dropping back.
“We are not giving him a trident.” He says miserably.
“He’s a Stag not a Kraken. I was thinking instead-”
“Gifts?” Joss asks.
“They mean to worm their way into his tent by fealty," Mina says, tilting her head. “That would work: it would be difficult for him to turn away a Prince, but if you swear fealty-”
“It levels the ground beneath you,” Baelor says with a frown. “It-it would work.”
“Of course it will,” Maekar says with a scoff. “My wife thought it up.” Mina shifts beside him, smiling.
But her body has turned just slightly away.
“I was thinking,” Myranda says again, voice louder this time, “In the library there is a first edition book of the Storm King’s. It predates the Dance--we have the second edition too but-”
“No,” Baelor says, leaning forward and placing his hand on Mina’s knee. “You are right. Do you have any advice, my dear?”
Mina bites the inside of her cheek and frowns. “Houses Beesbury and Hardying will be there too. They are both more than fine jousters-”
“I will deal with them,” Maekar says firmly, jaw tilting down. “My presence will shield the harder competition from Valarr.”
“He is capable-” their mother begins in defense of her eldest grandson.
“And he will have the chance to show it without being targeted," Maekar says sharply, turning to Baelor.
“My uncle, Leo, will be there as well,” Mina says, clearing her throat. “He has warned me my mother intends to be there for now.”
“For now?” His mother questions.
“She may not like my response to her letter and think twice now.” The room silences and Myranda begins to smile, pressing her mouth in a thin line while Melody shifts forward.
“Did you call her a cunt?” Melody demands. “I fucking-”
Larra squeals, falling backwards into the couch. “Oh my dear--I hope your thorns strangle her all the way from here!”
The Queen watches her though, and Mina meets her eyes and she nods once. “Good,” Myriah says, smirking. “That bitch deserves worse.”
“Well,” Myranda says, leaning forward before she is snatched backwards, “Hey!”
“Sit,” Maekar demands. “You do not have to chase after the children anymore-”
Her nose wrinkles. “I am strangely bored too,” Mina says with a small laugh. Baelor turns his gaze to her, watching the lines of her face which is turned away from him. Her button nose, the fullness of her mouth. “Although it is nice not to hear mama every two seconds.”
“You will miss it,” Myriah says fondly. “The little ones--teenagers are cunts.”
Maekar and Baelor both jerk to look at her with matching offended gazes.
“Don’t even start,” she threatens, pointing out at them both. Maekar and he both clear their throats and look at one another while their wives giggle.
“And how do you plan on entertaining Lyonel Baratheon?” He asks, closing his brother’s solar shut tight.
Maekar groans when the door locks. “Seriously? One day without being interrupted-”
Baelor glares at him and Maekar falls backwards into his chair throwing his hands up.
“Did you settle with your wife?” He demands.
“How do you plan on entertaining Lyonel Baratheon?” Bealor demands, slow and steady. Maekar raises a single eye brow and Baelor’s jaw set.
Irritation seizes his gut in a way it did when he had to face his father across a bloody Small Chamber as he watched on, claimed the credit for allowing his son to stay at Dragonstone as they raised fucking Dragons.
As if he had not fled King’s Landing to hide from his own father near the very end, when the comments of Rhaegel’s madness and Dornish smell became too great to ignore. Or the threats of disinheritance. Maekar was too young to remember the last year of it: but Baelor did.
“Maekar,” he says, teeth clenched.
“Myranda will deal with him at first,” Maekar says slowly, watching him with eyes that chafed. “Once she learns him: we will adjust.”
Baelor’s nostrils flare and he leans over his desk. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“Whatever he said to piss you off has nothing to do with me.” Maekar bites back. “So you better cut it the fuck out before we take it to the yards.”
“Do you plan on sharing her-” he growls out and Maekar’s brows raise sharply.
“What the fuck did you just ask me?” Baelor glares sharply.
“She gathers tools to-”
“Manipulate a boy who has just been made fucking Heir.” Maekar growls back. “Or have you forgotten despite his fanatical reputation: he was not. Seriously, I am not whoring out my wife: besides, we assume he will want to focus on me and use her to get through to me.” Baelor squints at him, staring long and hard at his brother before he sits up and rolls his shoulders. “Myranda is beautiful, clever, and sharp enough to keep up with him: but I have the titles, Dragon, and name he will want either to humiliate or align himself with.”
Baelor drags his tongue over his teeth and he nods.
“I should not have raised my voice,” Baelor concedes. “Nor assumed-”
“No,” Maekar bites back sharply. “You shouldn’t have--and I’m guessing by your reaction you and Mina have not-”
Baelor grimaces. “I apologized-”
“You always apologize.” Maekar says flatly. “The problem is you never fucking learn-”
“Mina is not Myranda,” Baelor argues. “She is not a Greenseer or a Warg, Mina does not have the ability to defend herself as she does-”
“You never treated Jena like this,” Maekar cuts through coldly.
Baelor stills, his gaze narrowing at his brother sharply. “Not once did I ever throw Dyanna in your face.” The words come out more like a growl and Maekar inclines his head.
“I would hope you did: if I consistently pushed my wife away the way you are.”
Baelor stares at his violet-eyed brother, the lines that have settled in his face in these last ten years. The last ten years that had changed them, but not so much as the last five years had. It had brought Maekar more peace than he thought he had before Dyanna’s death: and given Baelor more grief.
“What…am I missing?” He asks Maekar slowly. “I do not know…how to accept it the way you do-”
Maekar looks away, jaw working in circles. “You should talk to Myranda-”
Baelor chuckles. “I do not think that is such a good idea,” he says. And Maekar turns and glares at him.
“She is my wife-”
“Aye,” Baelor agrees. “And she hates me-”
“She does not hate you,” he bites back. “She just does not understand how you can be so clever and blind at the same time.”
Baelor jerks back in offense and clears his throat. “Blind to what?” He tries.
Maekar blinks at him and sneers, his ears turning pink. “Don’t ask me,” he grumbles. “You’re the clever one.”
Baelor hisses a sigh through his teeth. “She has not told you?” He asks.
Maekar stares at him again, quiet, before he leans over his desk and clears his throat. Delicate--his brother is trying to be as delicate as he can, Baelor can tell. But Maekar has never been delicate.
“Myranda thinks if she tells me and I tell you,” he says roughly, “It will damage your relationship beyond repair.”
Baelor feels his stomach drop.
Myranda…was very good at reading people. To an unsettling degree now that she had Greensight. It was something Brynden had too--and both of them had the unusual ability to look at you and through you at the same time. Especially when she was upset. Instead of using it against them though, like Brynden did: Myranda used it for them. Baelor was unsure if she realized she did it.
It was what allowed her to connect best with the children: her ability to understand. But for certain people, like him and Mya it chafed against her. He understood Mya--with her recklessness and pursuit for freedom she had. But Baelor? Baelor was not quite so understanding of why it applied to him.
“That bad, huh?” He muses, looking away from his brother.
“You should show her you’re sorry,” Maekar says. “Rather than just tell her.”
He finds his wife reading--or pretending too at least.
Her fingers touched the page and she stared at them, but even after a few minutes of standing in the doorway of her solar, she did not flip a page.
“Mina,” he calls out gently, and she leaps, throwing the book in the air and he grimaces. “I am sor-”
“Oh,” she breathes out, snapping it shut and pulling it to her chest, eyes shut. “Oh you startled me.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, clearing his throat. “I-I was wondering if-”
She presses her mouth into a line and sits up straight, her feet uncrossing and she flattens out the lines in her dress and he stares at her.
“Yes?” She asks, prim, proper--pretending. He sighs quietly, watching her with a frown.
“I…was wondering if you would like to go riding with me?” He asks, and her brows furrow.
“To where?” She asks, clearing her throat. “I am not so good of a horseback rider like Myranda-”
“On Beleris,” he says gently, and she blinks, her face going blank.
And he swallows while she seems to…mull.
“Oh,” she says softly. “I-you said they were not strong enough to saddle two-”
“Beleris and Alios are now,” he says, mouth quirking. “For shorter distances--I wanted to take you to the beaches that scatter along the small islands in the bay.” She inhales deeply, her eyes flickering around the room. As if she was looking for an excuse to refuse. And he inclines his head. “Nevermind-”
“I don’t know what I would wear,” she admits quietly. “Would--would you help me find something I could ride in?”
Baelor blinks at her, head tilting.
Something to wear, he thinks in confusion. But it was not a no.
“Of course,” he agrees, slowly moving to her and outstretching his hand. She lays her hand in his and he strokes the bottom of her hand as she looks up at him with her amber eyes. She does not smile at him, she just stares at him with her pretty face. Waiting.
“What am I missing?” He asks her quietly. Her brows furrow deeply.
“I…do not know?” She says slowly. “We have not left yet-”
“With us,” he murmurs. “What--what am I missing, why-”
Her face stills, and she removes her hand from his.
“Have I displeased you?” She asks, voice quiet and small.
“No,” he says, voice quiet too. He reaches for her face and she sits still, too still. And he retracts himself. “You have not, my girl.” Her amber eyes turn back to him and swallows. “I do not mean to keep hurting you.”
She tilts her head. “I do not think you capable of harming another on purpose,” she admits quietly.
“And yet I do,” he muses to her. “Over and over-”
She swallows and looks down at her lap. “I do not make it easy,” she says, smiling. But there is a tremor in her mouth. “I have always been difficult-”
Her mother, he realizes in anger. That is her mother speaking.
He kneels down before her, placing his hands on her lap.
“Do not,” he says quietly, “Blame yourself for my inability to learn from my mistakes.” She blinks rapidly, eyes still pointed down and her smile deepens.
“You will be the King-”
“Mina,” he says, voice harsher than he means. “Here I am your husband--not the Prince of Dragonstone.” Her mouth twitches and she looks up at him.
And he can see his error immediately. Because she has been taught that a husband is the King in the marriage--regardless of the titles he wore.
But…Baelor did not know how to dispel it either. Not in a way that he could sustain, that could mean something to her.
“I do not want our marriage to be like your mothers and fathers.” He tells her quietly. Her mouth trembles and she nods.
“Let us go riding, then,” she says--voice shaking and eyes wet. And Baelor watches Mina struggle to keep herself together, struggle to keep from falling apart.
“Mina,” he murmurs quietly. “What--what did I say that was wrong?” He questions.
“Nothing, husband,” she says with a stretched out smile. “Nothing we-”
He stands, reaching for her and pulling her to stand with him. And instead, he turns them, so he sits where she had sat, and he pulls her stiff body onto his lap.
“You said-” she stutters out quietly.
He pulls her close, under his chin her head settles, he strokes her curled hair the way she strokes the girls. The way she strokes his, when they are abed and he rests on her chest.
“Tell me,” he murmurs quietly. “About your day?” He tries instead.
And she shifts on his lap. “We had lunch with the children,” she says softly. “Shaena tested Myranda’s patience with yelling at Egg, but after this morning she was less fierce of it.”
He hums, nodding. “And the rest of the children?” He asks.
“Val and Nora keep asking for Baelys and Vaelys to return to their rooms,” she says with a small laugh.
Their hatchlings.
He presses a kiss against her forehead and hums. “Aethan, Aella, and Val did very well with the governess, Nora though--she kept asking for me.” She says with a quiet sigh.
“It will take time,” he muses, stroking her hair. “It will be a difficult few weeks-”
She nods. “I think it was because Baelon begged to stay with Myranda,” he murmurs, turning up so her nose pressed against the bottom of his chin. “Myranda cried after.”
He sighs and turns his cheek onto her soft hair.
“She has always been very connected to them,” he mutters.
Mina chuckles. “She was born to be a mother--it seems so effortless to her. Like it is with you.”
He scoffs. “It is not so effortless to me,” he promises. She scoffs under him in response and he felt her relax a shade onto him. “It is not--the boys are just good boys. And our girls take after you.”
She leans back and away, brows raised.
“They are like Maekar,” she says sharply, a smile pulling at her mouth. “With your cleverness. A vicious combination it makes.”
He furrows his brow and moves to dismiss her--until he considers it a moment longer.
“They are sweet like you,” he mutters quietly.
“No,” she says, tapping at his chin. “They soften you like you do to Lords you want to bend to your will--but they are stubborn like your brother. Once they decide they want something: they dig their feet in-”
“And do not let go,” he mutters. “Seven Hells.”
He groans and his head falls back and she laughs--the sound soft on his ears. And she leans close, pressing her face into his neck and his eyes flutter closed.
“They are most like your mother--I think, overall.” She mutters into his skin fondly. “Clever, sharp, but they have more patience-” His hand strokes her hair more and she keeps relaxing into him. And he clings to it: itches for it, wants more of it.
“They are as beautiful as you,” he muses. “A good thing too--I am not so handsome as you are beautiful.” She laughs, shaking her head.
“You are very handsome, Baelor,” she says gently. “We-”
The door knocks and she jumps on his lap, tensing immediately.
And Baelor’s jaw tenses. “Yes?” He calls out.
“Father?” Matarys calls out. “I think I just saw Nyssa in the sky-”
His eyes close and Mina inhales sharply.
Grounded--Aerion was grounded. In more than one way.
“Well,” he mutters to Mina, “I was having a nice afternoon with you.”
“Come,” she says with a sigh, “We will have to keep Myranda from murdering Mya if she is with him.”
Myranda stews on the bridge leading out of Dragonstone, silent as she watches Alios chase Nyssa back to Dragonstone.
And her green eyes flicker up to his, and then they fall to Mina and she sighs.
“It is just Nyssa and Aerion,” she muses quietly as they approach. “Mya is in her lessons.”
“Well,” Mina says gently, “That is at least a win.”
She scoffs, turning out to the sea. Her gaze is flat, eyes tired.
“Are you alright?” Baelor chances.
Her mouth sets firm. “Becca sent a letter,” she says firmly, tilting her head. “Templeton Knights will be attending the Tourney--Gyle’s brothers.”
Mina grimaces. “I am sure Maekar is delighted,” she says sarcastically.
Myranda sighs, shaking her head. “Alec and Hugo are closer to Valarr’s age,” she says coldly. “And have apparently rather stupidly approached Edmund for betrothal--in the hopes of sowing old wounds.”
“With Mya?” Mina gasps.
“No,” she grunts out. “Leanna--Ed’s eldest daughter.”
“Did he break their jaws?” Baelor asks dryly.
Myranda’s mouth quirks, turning to look at him.
“No--but Adrian will be there too.”
Mina groans, falling against the half-wall of the bridge. “Perhaps I should go-”
“I can handle Adrian,” Myranda says with a scoff. “He is bringing with him a cousin of ours--Jasper Arryn. Well--Roderick Arryn is bringing him. He is I and Alys’ cousin--the only son of the youngest son of our grandfather, Alester.”
“Why?” Baelor asks, brows furrowing.
Her mouth quirks deeper.
“He intends on gaining favor,” she muses. “There are rumors that Adrian has the pox.”
Baelor’s brows raise sharply and Mina frowns. “Maekar had that-”
“Not that pox,” Myranda says firmly. “The kind you get from whores.” Mina turns back to Baelor in confusion.
“Red Pox,” he says gently. “Not childhood pox-”
And Mina’s jaw drops, and she turns to look at Myranda with wide eyes. “B-ut-”
Myranda nods and sighs. “Alys said her mother will not speak of it,” she says quieter. “But…she quietly ended the betrothal between Adrian and Jasper’s sister.”
“That’s…” Mina murmurs slowly…
Baelor grimaces. He would not go so far as to say a man contracting an incurable venereal disease was good. But--the Vale would do much better without Adrian as the Lord of the Vale. And Red Pox was curable--at the very beginning. They called it Pink Pox when it was. But if left to fester or untreated, it slowly became Red Pox. And when it did? There was no cure. But that took so long--it was inconceivable for any Lord to let it fester that long unless they were truly that uncaring, reckless, or well, stupid.
“He apparently only drowns himself in wine, whores, and travels from Tourney to Tourney.” Myranda says quietly. “Becca thinks Jasper comes to treat with you and Maekar.” Her hand taps on the stone and she leans against it, turning to Baelor. “He is a fine boy and he is young--only ten.”
“Ten?” Mina gapes out.
Myranda inhales long and slow, looking out at the ocean.
“Becca thinks his father will try to arrange a marriage between Daella, Rhae, or Shaena,” she muses quietly. “Aerion overheard us talking of it and he--” She waves her hand up at the sky and crosses her arms over her chest. Myranda’s eyes fall closed and she shakes her head up at the sky.
“Did he meet him?” Mina asks, but Baelor sighs.
“He is upset Mya refused him,” Baelor answers, and Mina frowns, turning to him.
But Myranda hums. “Aye,” she whispers. “He is.”
“It is not your fault,” Baelor says gently. Myranda turns and smiles miserably as Alios manages to circle Nyssa into the Dragonmont.
“She is my sister,” she says sardonically. “And he is my son.” She shoves herself off of the stone wall and inhales deeply. “Nothing is ever simple, is it?”
“No,” he says quietly as she passes them. “It is not.”
Mina turns and watches her go, brows furrowed deeply. “I should go,” she whispers, eyes filling with guilt. “I should go with you all to Ashford.”
“No,” Baelor says, inhaling deeply. “The youngest babes need you, and your mother does not deserve you.” Mina swallows, mouth trembling again. And he reaches for her, pulling her close. “We will survive it,” he hums in her ear. “But you will have to claw me off of you when I return.”
She leans into him, clinging tight.
And Baelor is selfish enough to admit he enjoys it. Even if it was not enough.
Birthchart, heirs, titles, dragons, designations, and powers!
Compiled with help from @wordsaremadefrompaper on Tumblr who is an absolute DOLL. They read through my mess of math and timelines and were able to track down how to fix it lol. Thank you so much for all of your help, my brain could not keep focused long enough without all your work to do it. You are so, so, so kind!
They did all of the timeline work, which made compiling all of the dragons and families into units so much freaking easier.
The Royal House of Targaryen
Prince Baelor “Breakspear” Targaryen, the Prince of Dragonstone Heir to the Iron Throne
A dreamer, the Rider of Beleris, a gold and bronze male Dragon
B.170 AC
(& his children through Lady Jena Dondarion b.170d.192)
Prince Valarr Targaryen, his heir
Dreamer, the Rider of Eyris, a male dragon of silver and grey
B.190 AC
Prince Matarys Targaryen
Dreamer, the Rider of Valyris, a male dragon of bronze and green
B.192 AC
(& his children through Lady Mina Tyrell b.185 AC)
Princess Valaena and Daenora Targaryen
Dreamers, Riders of Baelys and Vaelys, blue and green hatchlings.
(Twins) B.205 AC
The Royal Vassal Branch of House Targaryen of the Stormlands
Prince Maekar “The Anvil” Targaryen The Prince of Summerhall, Lord to House Targaryen of the Stormlands
Dreamer, the Rider of Alios, a black and bronze male dragon
B. 174 AC
(& his children through Lady Dyanna Dayne b.172-d.199AC)
Prince Daeron Targaryen, heir of Summerhall
Dreamer, the Rider of Stalios, a male black and amethyst dragon
B.192 AC
Prince Aerion Targaryen
Beastling, the Rider of Nyssa, a red Shedragon
B.195 AC
Prince Aemon Targaryen
Dreamer, the Rider of Aessa, a blue Shedragon
B.197 AC
Prince Daella Targaryen
Beastling, the Rider of Coria, a bronze and amber Shedragon
B.198 AC
Prince Aegon and Princess Rhae Targaryen
Dreamers, Dragon TBD & the Rider of Naeria, an emerald and black Shedragon
(Twins) B. 199 AC-
(& his children through Lady Myranda Royce, a Greenseer, b.185 AC)
Princess Shaena Targaryen
Dreamer, the Rider of Nyria, a yellow Shedragon
B.204 AC
Prince Aethan Targaryen
Beastling, the Rider of Aessos, a blue male dragon
205 AC
Prince Baelon and Princess Aella Targaryen
Beastlings, the Riders of Palios and Vaessa, black and silver-grey male dragons
(Twins) B.206
Ser Nestor Waynewood b. 184 AC
& his Lady wife, Melody Royce, a Beastling, b. 184 AC
Lady Cissy & Bella Waynewood
Beastlings, B.199 AC
Lady Maris & Lord Matthos Waynewood
TBD, B. 209