Kapitel 4: Seeds of a Plan

65 AC

Red Keep, King's Landing

The clang of wooden swords echoed across the training yard as I, now eight years old, squared off against my elder brother, Aemon. He was taller, stronger, and quicker than me, and as usual, I was on the defensive. Ser Gyles Morrigen, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, stood at the edge of the yard, watching us with his ever-present intensity.

"Keep your guard up, Baelon," Ser Gyles called out. His voice was firm, but I could hear the encouragement in it.

Aemon swung his sword in a wide arc, forcing me to step back. "Too slow, Baelon!" he teased, grinning as he pressed his advantage. "How would our dear sister Alyssa laugh at you?"

I grinned back, ducking beneath his next swing and taking a quick jab at his side. My sword hit his ribs with a soft thud, and Aemon winced playfully. "On the contrary, Aemon, they might be more inclined to laugh at you."

He laughed, shaking his head. "You're getting better, but you'll need more than that to beat me."

Ser Gyles, arms folded over his chest, gave a small nod of approval. "Good, Baelon. But keep your feet moving. Don't let him back you into a corner."

I was trying. Aemon had always been better at this than I was. He was faster, and more fluid in his movements, and he had a natural confidence I couldn't quite match. But we enjoyed our practice sessions. In these moments, the weight of my knowledge—the burden of my two lives—seemed lighter. Here, with Aemon, I could almost forget about the future, the deaths that loomed, and the plans I had begun to formulate.

Aemon's sword tapped my shoulder, and I stumbled back with a laugh. "I yield!"

"Of course you do," Aemon said, flashing me that same childish grin. "I'm unstoppable."

Before I could retort, Ser Gyles raised a hand. "Enough for today, my princes. His Grace has summoned you both to his chambers."

Aemon and I exchanged a glance, and I could see the curiosity in his eyes. Our father didn't often summon us together, especially not in the middle of training. I wiped the sweat from my brow, handing my practice sword to a servant as we made our way back to the castle.

As we walked through the corridors, Aemon bumped my shoulder playfully. "Maybe Father's going to knight me early," he joked, though there was a glint of hope in his eyes.

I laughed, though my mind was elsewhere. The summons was unexpected, but not unwelcome. I had been thinking more and more about how to approach my father—about how to begin laying the groundwork for the changes I needed to make. The future was coming faster than I had anticipated, and I knew I couldn't wait much longer.

We reached the door to the council chamber, and a page stepped aside to let us in. The room was dimly lit, the sun casting long shadows through the narrow windows. Father sat at the head of the table, his hands resting on the arms of his chair. He looked up as we entered, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Come, sit," he said, gesturing to the chairs near him. "The council is nearly finished."

I glanced at Aemon, who shrugged before we both took our seats. Around the table sat several familiar faces—Lord Rogar Baratheon, still serving as Hand of the King; Lord Corlys Velaryon, representing the wealth of Driftmark; and Grand Maester Elysar, with his wrinkled hands folded neatly on the table.

My eyes lingered on the Grand Maester. He had been in my thoughts lately, ever since I saw him talking to a man dressed as a septon. The two of them had spoken in hushed voices, and something about their tone—the secrecy—had unsettled me.

More than that, it had sparked an idea. The pieces were coming together in my mind: a possible conspiracy, involving both the Citadel and the Faith, working against House Targaryen. The maesters were known for their dislike of dragons, and their subtle attempts to downplay the importance of magic in the world. And the Faith had never been fully comfortable with our family's unique relationship to power, dragons, and the Old Valyrian ways.

It was a dangerous game I was playing, but I had to start somewhere. And today, as Father wrapped up the final points of the council's discussion, I saw my opportunity.

"As for the matter of the Dornish border," Lord Rogar was saying, "we'll send more men south to reinforce the patrols. There's been talk of raiders again."

Father nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Good. Make sure they're well supplied. I won't have another Dornish incursion disrupting the peace."

With that, the council began to disperse. Lord Corlys and Lord Rogar left, their conversation drifting off as they moved down the hall. Only Grand Maester Elysar remained, speaking quietly with my father.

Aemon leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs out under the table. "That sounded dreadfully boring," he muttered, loud enough for me to hear.

I elbowed him lightly, though I couldn't disagree. The day-to-day running of the realm wasn't exactly thrilling for boys our age. But today, I had more than boredom on my mind.

As the Grand Maester finally took his leave, Father turned toward us, still only one and thirty-name days old.

"How are both of you progressing in your training?" he asked, his usual stoic expression on his face.

"It's been going well, Father. Ser Gyles is an excellent teacher," Aemon responded, with me nodding in agreement.

"Good. Us Targaryens need to learn the sword; we cannot always rely on our dragons. Speaking of dragons, what are your thoughts on claiming one?" Father asked.

It's something I had contemplated many times over the last two years, knowing my future bond with Vhagar, and Aemon with Caraxes. I had held back any actions. However, I have decided to claim mine earlier in this life.

"I wanted to be knighted first, then become a dragon rider," Aemon said, his voice full of vigor, like a true knight. Father nodded to his answer, then turned his gaze toward me.

"I still need to think more on this subject," I said, keeping my options open.

"Very well. A new dragon, called Caraxes, hatched in Dragonstone a few years ago. It's believed to be a rare breed among dragons, even in Old Valyria. It would be a great addition to our House strength. You two can decide how to proceed." His words made it clear that he would not intervene in our decisions regarding our choice of the dragon.

I subtly noticed curiosity spark in Aemon's eyes at the mention of this new dragon hatchling and its rarity.

"Your mother is stable now. You should both go meet her and your new little sister, Daella," he added with rare warmth in his tone, bringing an end to our talk.

"Of course, Father. We will go now," Aemon responded, standing up first.

However, I had a different plan today. I leaned forward, catching my father's attention.

"Father," I began, my voice steady but soft. "There's something I've been meaning to tell you. Something I overheard."

Father raised an eyebrow, his full attention now on me. Aemon again settled in his seat and straightened up beside me, his earlier playfulness gone, replaced by the curiosity and sharpness he always possessed.

"What is it, Baelon?" Father asked.

I hesitated, choosing my words carefully. This had to be done right. Too much, too soon, and he might dismiss it as a child's imagination. Too little, and I wouldn't plant the seeds I needed to.

"I was in the gardens a few moons ago following a cat, a corner rarely visited by anyone," I said, "and I overheard Grand Maester Elysar speaking with a man dressed as a septon. They were talking about the three dragon eggs that were stolen by Elissa Farman years ago."

Aemon tightens slightly at my words. Father's eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of this incident. It was a major dark spot in his nearly perfect reign.

"Continue." He said.

"I don't want to misinterpret but their exact words were "That Sealord of Braavos is not acknowledging our previous arrangements, the Archmaesters in Oldtown and the High Septons are furious." Signaling some manner of betrayal in the original plan." I said with my stoic face learned in my ears as a politician.

Father's eyes widen, and his hand tightens at the chair. He believed my words, even at face value, but he said nothing, letting me continue.

"They spoke of a… a new dragon-spawn being born, and there was talk of Daella. I didn't catch it all, but it sounded like they were talking about our family—and dragons. I don't have any insight except. Their tone was…." I hesitated and looked towards him, in response he nodded. "cruel and I could feel hatred."

"The maesters and the Faith," I began cautiously, "they do not always see eye to eye with us Targaryens, especially on matters of dragons. I've overheard discussions—hushed, but unmistakable—about our... unique practices.."

Father's face hardened slightly, though his eyes remained fixed on me. "What exactly are you implying, Baelon?"

Aemon shifted in his chair, clearly uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. He shot me a look as if to say What are you doing? But I couldn't stop now. I had to lay the groundwork for what was to come.

"I'm implying that we should be cautious. The Citadel's influence reaches far, and the Faith's power is not to be underestimated. If they were to combine their efforts, it could pose a threat to the stability of our rule—especially with so much unrest in the realm with Dorne." I kept my tone measured, trying to sound like an observant son rather than someone burdened with the knowledge of future betrayals.

"You say that they never liked us. I understand Septon and Faith from your perspective considering past wars with Militants. But Maesters, tell me why you taught as such Baelon? Maesters are the ones who raised you and your siblings and even me." He asked me with a sharp voice that not many possessed, even in my old life, like I was not his son but some Dornish envoy.

There he was, the Wise King Jaehaerys Targaryen, the Conciliator, not only he didn't show any reaction to my words, he further asked me to gauge my standing and way of thinking. If not for my years of filthy politics, I would have given myself away to pressure, as a mere 8-year-old, if looking spooked Aemon, who was ever poised, was anything to go by.

"Father, Citadel and faith have been hand in hand, long before Targaryen's. They have near-invincible influence and power on Realm, maybe more than the Crown. But I do respect Maesters and their path of knowledge, but they are also Man, and man is always afraid of one thing…" I said with confidence, father and Aemon's curiosity peaked.

"And what is it?" asked Aemon who has been listening attentively till now, seeing me pause.

"It is the fear of 'Unknown', Brother. Men will always fear what they don't understand. What they don't understand they will judge it 'Evil', then they will seek to control that 'evil' and what they cannot control…"

Father leaned forward in his chair, he didn't expect this short meeting to be so insightful. He looked at me with a known glint in his eyes. His mind raced as he understood what I was pointing at, how did I know that? Because he finished my next words.

"….They attack." He said.

Aemon, who was about to interrupt me, fell silent at Father's word. He understood the importance of my words if Father were considering it. He has always idealized his, father's cunning and vastly underrated weapon mastery. But he was not like my future son, who was a fool obsessed with peace. The perfect Heir he 'was'.

After what seemed like a long 20 seconds, Father leaned back in his chair. His fingers steepled under his chin. His expression was unreadable, but I could tell that he was thinking. Processing.

"Father, could this be…?" Aemon broke the silence but could not bring himself to finish his thoughts.

"Your view, though rudimentary, is still true. The Citadel has always been cautious of dragons," he said slowly. "And the Faith has its views on power and our customs. I recall when they knelt to Conqueror, saying a prophecy from Seven has told to High Septon in Oldtown, 'To either bow or Burnt in Dragonfire'. They didn't accept us with goodwill, but rather fear of fire & blood. But a conspiracy against the crown, after years of harmony is still farfetched."

Aemon glanced between me and Father, his brow furrowed. "It can't be so direct, right father? If the Maesters had been trying to harm us, they would have done so by killing us at our birth. Having some knowledge of medicine, we or any nobility have no chance if faced by their sudden betrayal."

Aemon said as if saying the elephant in the room. I met his eyes, unsure of how much to say. I have already said much more than intended. But what did I expect, king, to simply believe me, well I have come this far, may as well finish it.

"I don't know, Brother. Maybe they didn't want to harm us directly, simply reduce our power, our 'dragons'…" Father blinked at that. Yes, that was a nuclear bomb to his peaceful thoughts. Now he understands the future challenges that may be faced by the House of Dragons if we ever lose our dragons. But I must drop the next nuclear swiftly too, as two always go hand in hand, as it was in my 'Past life'.

"…who knows, Aemon maybe they consider us a necessary evil to prevent the never-ending war, that plagued Westeros before the Conquest. Maybe they have already harmed us in secret. We just don't know about it and their involvement in the same." At my words, Aemon grew silent and Father grew uncharacteristically agitated.

Father slowly stood, pacing across the room. My subtle hints at many birth misfortunes within the family which was not common in family history and surfaced only in recent memory.

He was silent for a long while, the weight of my words hanging in the air. I could see the wheels turning in his mind, but I didn't know what conclusion he was reaching.

Finally, he stopped and turned to face us.

Father regarded me carefully, his expression unreadable. "You are still young, Baelon. Sometimes, it's best not to see enemies where there are none, but…"

A long pause followed. Father finally back in his chair, his gaze softening just a little. "Your concerns are noted. But be careful, my son. There's a fine line between vigilance and paranoia."

A part of me bristled at his words, but I knew it was necessary to plant the seeds of doubt early. "Of course, Father," I said, bowing my head slightly. "I only wish to protect our family."

"Yes, Family is power." As if ending our long talk with those words and leaving him alone.

I nodded, grateful that he hadn't dismissed my words outright. This was only the beginning, after all. The game was far from over. Because I knew, Father was not following his statement, this man was paranoid, not vigilant.

Aemon, feeling it was our queue to leave, eager to change the subject, jumped in. "We'll see Mother now, Father. I'm sure she's eager to introduce us to Daella."

Father's stern expression softened even more at the mention of our new sister. "Yes, go to her. She'll be pleased to see you both."

We left the chamber and made our way through the Red Keep's maze-like corridors toward Mother's chambers. Aemon's usual carefree demeanor was gone, replaced by a more pensive look.

"What was that all about?" he asked, his voice low.

I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Just a precaution. I've been noticing things, that's all."

Aemon looked skeptical. "You're starting to sound like one of those paranoid lords, always looking for conspiracies in every shadow."

I chuckled. "Maybe I'm just getting smarter."

"Or maybe you're spending too much time reading," Aemon shot back, though his tone was light. He was trying to make a joke out of it, but I could tell he was a little unsettled. I didn't blame him.

As we approached Mother's chambers, my thoughts drifted. In my previous life, Daella had been a sweet, fragile thing. I remembered her eventual marriage and the tragedy that followed. I couldn't help but wonder if there was a way to change that, to protect her from the fate that had befallen her in the past.

When we entered the room, the warmth and softness of it greeted us immediately. Mother lay in bed, pale but smiling, with a tiny bundle in her arms. Her silver-gold hair was spread across the pillows, and though she looked tired, there was a peace in her eyes that made my heart ache.

Aemon immediately rushed to her side, peering down at our newborn sister. "She's beautiful, Mother," he said softly.

Mother smiled, her gaze shifting to me. "Baelon, come meet your sister."

I approached slowly, my eyes falling on the tiny, wrinkled face of Daella. She looked so delicate, so innocent. It was hard to reconcile the image of this tiny baby with the memories I had of the young woman she would grow into.

"She's perfect," I said quietly.

Mother beamed, clearly exhausted but radiant with joy. "You boys will take care of her, won't you?"

Aemon laughed lightly. "Of course, we will. We'll be the best big brothers."

"And I am the best big sister!!" shouted little Alyssa from behind Mother.

We all laughed at her cute voice, to which she hid behind me shyly, picking my future wife in my arms, though my thoughts were far more complicated. I would protect Daella, yes—but in ways Aemon couldn't even begin to understand. I had a lifetime of knowledge that would guide me, and I wasn't going to let history repeat itself.

...