Chapter 39
BAELON TARGARYEN
The end was here for him, and Baelon knew that his days were numbered. Whether it was by design or destiny, the Stranger's shadow would envelope him soon, though he had long been ready for it.
It was not death that haunted him. No. It was his mistakes that plagued his sleep. Both the ones that he had already made, and the ones he was yet to make. The letters had already been drafted, and yet despite all that, Baelon found it hard to send them away.
Despite his faults, Daemon was his son, and many a time he feared that plotting to remove him from the line of succession was indeed the right thing. The decision was of tantamount importance and would define his legacy for years to come, and he did not wish to plunge the realm into a war with another mistake.
Even though sometimes he feared that it was all rather useless now, and that war was upon them no matter what they may think.
"I can see the wisdom of his words now," Baelon whispered as he sat on the sofa of her mother's room, and years had passed, but the Queen's chambers still belonged to the 'Good Queen Alysanne', whose wisdom he hoped to rely upon in these troubling times.
Age and ailments had made her thin and weak, and she could hardly step out of her bed nowadays, yet they had failed to diminish her mind, which remained as sharp as ever.
"Which words?" she asked, and that once soulful voice had become low and scratchy.
"A King, no matter how wise, cannot rule alone," and years ago, the lords had begun to stir, as they thought Barth unsuitable to the position of the Hand. Many of them thought that a mere Septon was unworthy of the honors and that the position should belong to a Lord of the realm.
It was a disaster, and he remembered it well, for he had sat with him and counselled him regarding accepting the Lord's requests. Barth was a loyal man, yet he believed that it was not worth it to lose favor with the lords over one singular man.
Barth himself had offered his resignation, yet despite all that, his father had refused to budge, and Barth would go on to serve him until the end of his life.
"He would often say that he needed Barth to rule, and it did not truly make sense to me at the time. Barth was a capable Hand, yet he never felt so irreplaceable as Father made him out to be. But now I see the truth of his words," for it was Barth's capabilities which made him a good Hand, it was his loyalty.
Even during the most testing times, his father could turn to his friend and seek his honest opinion on a decision. He was a friend to him, one whose words and actions lightened the burden of kingship.
He had tried to give his own Barth, and yet Baelon had pushed him away. He had failed where his own father had held strong, and the entire realm had suffered for that.
"Do not think so ill of yourself, Baelon." his mother's words were like balm for his aching heart.
"The fault does not lie entirely with you," and there was guilt in those eyes as she met his gaze.
"The fault lies in me as well," and with that, her gaze shifted away.
"Your father did not just have Barth at his side; he had me as well. His Queen and I failed to see beyond Alyssa's shadow," and Baelon shook his head.
"She was enough for me," and he had never felt the need to replace her, even though not a day went by that he did not miss her wild laughs and crooked nose. He had never had a thought of replacing her. Ever.
"Maybe, but a King needs his Queen as much as he needs a Barth," she began.
"And I failed to see that. It is my failing, as both Queen and your Mother, and I hope that you can forgive me for that," and Baelon shook his head once more.
"There is nothing to forgive," he added, for he had never even thought of this.
"You were a good King," she added, and he had no need of her lies.
"You say that yet half a million people lost their lives because of my decisions," and her mother shook her head.
"No man can stand against a plague," and while that may have been true in the past, it was not true now.
"Galen could," and he had proven himself both in his time here and then in Braavos, where he had nipped it in the bud before it could ever become anything too uncontrollable.
"And yet I pushed him out of this Kingdom and imprisoned him for treason," and that was how it had all begun.
"You did not do those things," she consoled.
"I was the King. The responsibility falls onto me," but he was done discussing the past, for doing so would change little.
"Just as it now falls upon me to choose my successor," and she was not surprised by his words, as her lips only thinned at those words.
"If you are even asking that question, then you have already made your choice," and then why had his hands faltered in the last moment? Why did doubt still plague his heart, even as the Stranger came for him?
"He is my son," and the words left his mouth instinctively, and there was genuine sorrow on his mother's face as she looked up at him once more.
"And yet that does not change the fact that he would make for a second Maegor," and it was his own failure that pained him once more.
"A Grand Council could split the realm," he whispered, and she nodded.
"Then do not call for a Grand Council at all," and the words made his head snap up, as her mother raised a brow.
"You know very well who is most suited to the throne. You are the King. Name them as your heir," and his father had done the same, and so there was precedent.
"Daemon would never accept that," and that was why he had come up with this entire plot for a Grand Council.
"He could very well defy a Grand Council as well," and that was a possibility as well, and Baelon felt himself shrink under the weight of his decision.
"What of Gael? Will she even accept it?" and if an edict was passed, she would have no choice.
"She will have to."
"And what about her own succession?" was the greatest hurdle that she faced. Gael had made quite a name for herself over the past five years, and though she was not as brilliant or gifted as Galen, she had thrown herself into her new position with all the zeal and effort that she could muster.
"I received a letter from Galen a few days back. He has the cure," and he saw relief and surprise fill that face as a rare smile erupted on those thin, cracked lips.
"I expected nothing less."
"He rides for Kingslanding as we speak," and that was welcoming news.
"You should have called him back years ago," she advised, and he had tried.
"I tried, but he wouldn't accept. And even Gael refused to convince him," and she would not say why. All she would say was that he would return one day, and that we should all wait for that time.
"Is the realm ready to have a Queen sit on the Iron Throne?" her mother scoffed.
"If men would have it, the realm would never be ready," she retorted angrily.
"But the people are more ready now than they were for Rhaenys," and there was pain in her voice at the mention of his niece.
"Gael would make a fine Queen. It won't be easy, but she would keep us together, and with Galen by her side, they could push the Seven Kingdoms ahead by decades if not centuries," and he could see the truth in those words.
"But what of Daemon?" and her lips thinned as she waited to answer him.
"You are a wise man, Baleon. The truth of Daemon is there for all to see. Don't blind yourself to it," and with that, he had her wisdom and decision.
"The realm will not let another Maegor sit on the throne...."
.
.
.
And so, he left her solar, and the walk took more out of him than he had thought. Still, he summoned his Hand as he lay in his bed, and while drifting on the edge of conscience, he gave Lyonel the command.
"Do it...."
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GAEL TARGARYEN
Gael woke more tired than usual, as her brother's words continued to course through her mind. Baelon was asking too much of her. She had sacrificed too much for her family already, and now he was asking her to give the rest as well.
Many thought that there had been no contact between her and Galen since his departure, and they would be partially right. There had not been much contact, truly, but not for the reason they would think.
They simply did not have much left to say to one another. On the eve of his departure, he had sent Elsa with a singular message, one that had contained the proof of his love along with another promise for the future.
Despite the constant plots and ploys, Galen blamed himself for the fate that their love had suffered. He blamed himself for being too weak to protect them. And now he was finally coming back, to keep both his promises.
And now he was no longer just a simple Healer or the estranged bastard son of a Septon. No, he was the First Healer of Braavos. He was "God's Hand", and perhaps one of the richest and most influential men in the world.
The Citadel may boast about being the greatest repository of knowledge, but Galen was the holder of the most advanced knowledge in the entire world. He had made leaps and pushed the world into a direction that was completely unforeseen.
He was now coming back to the Capitol as her equal. He had done all of this for her. He had built himself a separate life, an empire, and if she were to accept her brother's offer, then she would be asking him to give all that up for her.
Already, he had sacrificed an arm for their love, and now she was asking her to give her his entire life. She did not have the heart to do that. Not to him. Not again, and yet she understood her brother's fears as well.
Daemon was unhinged and cruel. He was loathed by both the lords and the masses, and his ascending to the throne would destroy all that her father and brother had spent the last half a century building.
But it was not the legacy that made her worry the most. No, it was his aspirations regarding her own little niece. Daemon had long coveted a Valyrian bride for himself, and she had learned that one of the reasons he had plotted against Galen had been because he had thought him unworthy of her.
Still, her supposed barrenness had spared her from his advances, but he had now set his eyes on Rhaenyra, believing that a match between him and her would further solidify his claim on the throne.
Rhaenyra was a sweet and kind girl, and Gael did not have the heart to let Daemon get his hands on her. Yet the cost of her compassion was simply too high, and she did not have the heart to ask any more of Galen.
Yet Rhaenyra was her family. She was her niece, and the girl looked upto her, and she did not have the heart to abandon her as well. With such thoughts swirling in her mind, she pushed herself out of bed as she began to prepare herself for another busy day.
She was halfway through her preparations when a knock on the door made her stop.
KNOCK. KNOCK.
"Who is it?" she asked, and the maids opened the doors before turning back to inform her about a rather unexpected guest.
"My lady, it is the Lady Alysanne Hightower. She wishes to see you," and the girl was one of Rhaenyra's most trusted companions. She did not know much of her, except for the singular face that she had aided Galen in his escape, and that was all she needed to know about her. However, she would be lying if she said that she did not know anymore.
Gael had seen the pair of them running through these Halls many a time, and had seen for herself the shift in those light brown eyes of the Hightower girl. She doubted that anyone else had noticed the shift, but she could spot those eyes anytime, for once that same gaze had looked back at her from a mirror.
Calling on her at such a time was both improper and impolite, yet she had long stopped caring about such things.
"Let her in," she ordered, while motioning for the maid braiding her hair to stop as a well-dressed girl walked into her room with a nervous gait. Her reddish brown hair shone brilliantly in the light, and the girl gave a small bow as she said her greetings.
"Good morn, Princess. I apologise for calling on you at such an hour, but..."
"There is no need to apologise," she cut in as she tried to calm her down.
"Come sit," she said, pointing to the stool beside her, as the girl trotted forward with nervous steps before she sat down beside her.
"So, what brings you here?" she asked, and the girl glanced nervously towards the maids, and she understood her at once.
"These maids have served my mother for decades," and each of them had been handpicked by her.
"I trust them with my life," and that eased her worries.
"You can say whatever you want in front of them," and so she nodded.
"My lady, I beg you, please save Rhaenyra...."
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