HOTD : Reborn as Spring Prince

63 AC

Red Keep, Kings Landing

Baelon's POV

The summons came early in the afternoon, carried by one of the mother's handmaidens—a quiet, graceful woman who entered my chamber without fanfare. "The Queen wishes to see you, my prince," she said, bowing slightly.

I nodded, rising from my seat by the window. The afternoon sun bathed the room in warm light, but there was a chill deep inside me. Mother wanted to see me.

It was no surprise—she must have been worried after the incident at the Dragonpit. She was always concerned, always watching over me and my siblings like a hawk, even if she didn't say it outright.

But today it was different knowing the future, and how pitiful she became after all those tragedies. Watching all her children die one after the other was the worst imaginable for a mother. Her existence becomes pitiful, growing estrange with her father and her children.

But still, she was strong, she was the Queen. The best there was and will be as knew it.

The corridors of the Red Keep were familiar to me, yet today, they felt heavy with expectation. As I walked, my mind raced. The future—how could I face it knowing everything I do?

Every step I took echoed louder in my mind, reminding me of the precariousness of my position. I knew too much. Nearly 250 years in the future. Too much about the future of our family, the tragedies that would unfold, the deaths that would come one after the other like a chain being pulled taut until it snapped.

It wasn't just my siblings' deaths I feared. It was a thought of my own. The memory of my past life, as James Matthews, flickered in and out of focus, but one thing remained clear: I had been ambitious, determined to change the course of my family.

Maybe it's that the memories didn't come until now, but after 8 years I have already established myself as Baelon Targaryen. I have my ego and attachment. If I had received those memories from birth, like many of such stories that James read, he might have never fully accepted Targaryen's as his true family. But after 8 years of love and care, he had too much love for them, to let things be as same as canon. No, too much was at stake and he could not lose anyone.

I faced an even greater challenge—preventing my death, which I knew would come in the form of a burst belly, an ailment so simple in my previous world but deadly in this one.

I couldn't afford to die young, not when so much was at stake. But even if I survived, what then? Could I truly stop the Targaryen dynasty from tearing itself apart?

I had considered telling my father, King Jaehaerys, everything. Claiming to be a dragon dreamer—foreseeing visions of the future—was a tempting option. It would give me credibility, a reason to be trusted with such knowledge. But the future was delicate, and fragile, like a glass sculpture that could shatter with the slightest touch.

What if, by warning my father, I inadvertently caused the very disasters I was trying to prevent? What if, by saving one life, I condemned another? The timeline was a tightly woven thread and pulling too hard could unravel everything.

And there was another problem: my siblings who had yet to be born. I couldn't help but think of Viserys and Daemon—my future sons. Their roles in the canon were vital. Viserys would ascend to the Iron Throne, and Daemon… well, Daemon's ambitions would ignite the fires of the Dance of the Dragons.

But if I meddled too much in the present, would they even be born? The thought terrified me. Their existence wasn't guaranteed. One wrong step, and they could be lost forever as flickering flames snuffed out before they had a chance to burn. Do I even want them to be born knowing their future actions?

No, telling my father wasn't the answer. Not yet. The risk was too great. Instead, I would have to be careful—subtle. I could plant ideas, and guide events without revealing everything I knew. It was the only way to navigate the treacherous path ahead without causing too much disruption.

Lost in thought, I barely noticed when I reached the door to my mother's chambers. The handmaiden bowed again and opened the door for me, gesturing for me to enter. I took a deep breath and stepped inside.

The room was bathed in warm light, the afternoon sun filtering through the high windows. My mother, Queen Alysanne, sat by the hearth, her golden hair gleaming like a crown of sunlight. She looked up as I entered, and though she smiled, I could see the worry etched in her face. She motioned for me to come closer.

"Baelon, my sweet child," she said softly, her voice filled with warmth and concern, "come, sit with me." She said in high valyrian.

"Kessa (yes), Muna."

I approached slowly, the weight of my thoughts still pressing down on me. I sat beside her, she wrapped her arm around my side hugging me. She immediately parted my silver-gold hair, to see any injury on my scalp, noticing a slight bump, and hugging me.

"Oh, my son. That's why I always tell you to be careful and you go hitting Balerion. You realize how much you made me worry?"

"I am sorry, Muna for worrying you."

"It's not about me! You could have died. Balerion must have been in a good mood for you to be alive now." she said looking at me and pulling away from the hug.

"I understand, muna. I should have been careful." As I said with a sheepish smile knowing full well the foolishness of this situation.

"Right, remember what your father always says. The idea that we control dragons is false. They have a mind of their own." She said quoting one of the father's favorite lines.

"Hmm," I nodded but fell into deep thought about the truthfulness of that line.

"You've been quiet since the incident at the Dragonpit," she said, her eyes searching mine. "Your father and I… we've been worried about you. You didn't go to play with Aemon in the morning."

She knew something was different.

How could she not? She was sharp as always. Though I am the same Baelon, an 8-name-day child I can't just continue to be the same and I could not portray the same cheerfulness and joy in my tone. Knowing all that I knew.

I swallowed, unsure of how to respond. What could I say? That I was grappling with the knowledge of my death? Your death? That I knew the fate of every one of my siblings, the tragedies that would tear our family apart? Just seeing her, wrenches my heart, I am still busy stopping myself from crying.

"I'm fine," I said, though even I didn't believe it. "It was just a mistake, Mother. I didn't mean to provoke Balerion. I was still feeling a bit weak. I am sure Aemon will appreciate me not following him around for once."

Her expression softened, but the worry remained. "Haha yes, Aemon will. But he also secretly misses you, my little dragon."

I nodded, trying to muster a smile, but my thoughts were too scattered to maintain it. I could feel her eyes on me, studying me, trying to understand what was going on beneath the surface. She knew me too well to be fooled by my attempts at reassurance.

"I've just been… thinking," I admitted, unable to hold back any longer.

"Thinking?" she echoed, her voice gentle. "About what?"

I hesitated, my mind racing. I couldn't tell her everything—not yet. But maybe I could give her a glimpse of what was weighing on me. Maybe she could help me, in her way. As I am sure she will talk with her father.

"About the future," I said finally. "About our family. There's so much that could happen."

She reached across the table, taking my hand in hers. Her touch was warm, grounding me in the present, even as my mind swirled with thoughts of the future.

"Oh…My sweet boy. It's natural to worry about the future," she said softly. "You are brave. But you're still young, Baelon. You have time."

Time. It felt like a lie. I didn't have time—not nearly as much as she thought. But I couldn't tell her that. Not now.

"I know," I said, squeezing her hand gently.

Her eyes softened further, and for a moment, I saw the deep love and care she had for all of us—for me, for Aemon, for our siblings, both born and yet to be born. She would do anything to protect us. But even her love couldn't shield us from the dark future I knew was coming.

"You become wise beyond your years," she said with a sad smile. "Sometimes, I think you're older than you seem."

I couldn't help but chuckle softly at that. If only she knew how true that was.

"I just… don't want to lose anyone," I said, my voice quieter now. "Not you. Not Father. Not Aemon. I want us to stay together."

Her expression softened into something sadder, and she leaned in, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "None of us can predict what the future will bring, Baelon. But we can face it together, as a family. Whatever happens, we'll be here for each other. Be brave son, that's what they are calling you anyway right? Baelon, the Brave." Finished with a teasing smile.

I smiled shyly. But I wished I could believe that. I wished her words could erase the knowledge I carried—the deaths I knew were coming, the losses we couldn't avoid. But I couldn't afford to live in that illusion. I had to prepare, to plan, to change what I could, even if it meant doing it alone.

"I'll always be brave for you, Muna," I said, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me.

She smiled, though her eyes still held that shadow of worry. She kissed my forehead gently before standing. "Rest, my son. You've been through much. Also, go to your brother, he worries for you."

As she left, I sat there in the silence of her chambers, the weight of the future still pressing down on me. I had been given a golden chance, and I couldn't waste it. But how could I change the course of history without breaking everything in the process?

The answer, I realized, was in subtlety. I couldn't shout my warnings from the rooftops. I couldn't tell my father outright. I had to be patient. I had to guide events from the shadows, nudging them in the right direction while keeping the larger picture intact.

For now, I would bide my time. And when the moment came, I would be ready for our enemies.

I will preserve and protect my mother from all the heartache, for she didn't deserve any of it. She was just as responsible and accredited for the golden age of House Targaryen as her father. 

For she was the Best Queen, we ever had. 

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