Fire and blood.
It was both the motto of what he called family and a definition of the hellscape before him. Scenes flashed through Baelon's eyes: the harrowing screams of commonfolk as soldiers pillaged and raped, dragonfire raining down like the deathly embrace of The Stranger.
His small frame trembled at the sights.
He has had many dreams. Too many dreams. Some took place in Westeros. Others, in Essos. Some even displayed scenes he had neither heard of nor seen before.
Despite this, whilst the locations of these dreams changed, their themes remained the same.
Chaos. Death. Destruction.
Nevertheless, his breathing steadied as a small hand grasped his own. Looking to his side, he saw a girl his age, around six, sharing his silver hair and violet eyes. They exchanged a glance, fear evident in both their eyes.
Their hands tightened in their grasp as the scenes finally faded, replaced by one last stage.
Baelon's eyes narrowed. He knew what this was.
Maegor's Holdfast.
Built by King Maegor Targaryen, it sat within the Red Keep. A castle in a castle they call it.
Its jagged towers and labyrinthine halls were designed for neither beauty nor splendour. Rather, it remained a solemn warning to those who dared defy the crown.
Nevertheless, that wasn't what drew Baelon's gaze. No. It was the young woman leaning through an open window high up the structure, bearing a striking resemblance to the girl beside him.
His pupils dilated as he realised what was about to happen.
"No—!"
His scream was cut short as the woman leapt from the tower, an eerie smile plastered on her tear-stained face.
***
Baelon shot upright in his bed, chest heaving as sweat clung to him like a second skin.
Huff… huff… huff…
His breath came in rapid bursts, and for a moment, he could hear nothing but the pounding of his own heart.
Slowly, awareness seeped back into him, though it did little to steady the tremor that ran through his limbs.
"Why? What have I…" He mumbled, voice cracking as he pressed both hands to his head. "What have we done to deserve all this? Why… why must we see these scenes?"
His words faltered, swallowed by the memory of screaming voices, burning rooftops and… the woman leaping to her death.
He was about to bury his face in the pillow, trying to make sense of the visions, when he heard it. A soft. A choked sob right beside him.
Baelon turned his head, and his chest tightened at the sight of his twin sister. Helaena's small frame shook as tears ran freely down her cheeks, her silver hair clinging damp to her face.
Bitter melancholy tugged at his heart, but he forced himself to calm enough to act.
"It's alright, Hela…" he whispered, reaching out to stroke her hair, feeling the warmth of her head against his hand. Slowly, her sobbing began to ease, each shuddering breath becoming a little steadier under his touch.
Her teary violet eyes lifted to meet his, and in them he saw mirrored the same fear and confusion that gnawed at him.
"T-that was me, Baelon," she stammered, clutching his extended arm with both hands. "I… I jumped… I died…"
Baelon pressed his lips together, feeling the tightness in his chest worsen. She was right. There was no room for lies here, not between them. Not here.
"I don't know, Hela…" He murmured, his voice low. "It might have been… or it might not have been."
Baelon shifted slightly on the bed, wrapping his other arm around her small frame. "Regardless…" He gave her gentle pats along her back, trying to offer reassurance even as his own mind raced.
He searched her eyes, desperate to anchor both of them. "No matter what happens, I'll be here for you. Always. Remember… despite all our dreams, we have yet to see me in them. Maybe… maybe all of this is truly a dream. Or… perhaps… it is a dream of another lifetime."
Helaena clung to him a moment longer, the soft weight of her trust grounding him. For Baelon, that was the only comfort he could allow himself: the certainty that, in this moment, they were safe.
For now, at least.
Alas, he knew more than his sister.
Whenever their family gathered, whilst Helaena might float freely in her thoughts, he could not. He knew full well the situation they were in.
Every family gathering ended amid thick tension, teetering just short of blood being spilt to escalate into a bloodbath. Yet even he knew that this would be temporary, if his dreams over the years held any truth.
As Helaena beside him sank once again into slumber, Baelon found himself staring at the ceiling above him.
Dark wooden beams stretched across the chamber, their surfaces streaked with age and soot, and between them, the rough plaster was faintly cracked, shadows shifting gently in the candlelight.
He was his family's second son. The issues he had foreseen should simply have passed him by. After all, he was in no contention for the throne.
'But these dreams…' His body gradually calmed as he immersed himself in thought. I can no longer hide. 'I have to find a way out… for me, for us.'
Baelon closed his eyes, darkness returning as he drifted into sleep, holding his sister close.