Chapter Text
Chaos erupted through the hall the moment Queen Alicent surged forward with the dagger still clenched in her hand. Gasps and shouts broke from every corner as Princess Rhaenyra intercepted her before she could reach the children, the two women colliding hard enough to crash against the long table beside them. Goblets overturned instantly, wine spilling across carved wood and stone alike while servants stumbled backward in alarm.
"You have done enough," Rhaenyra snapped, catching Alicent's wrist before the dagger could swing further. Her voice cut sharply through the chamber, stripped entirely of courtly restraint now. "Look at yourself, Alicent."
Alicent fought against her grip with near-desperate strength, fury and grief twisting violently across her face. "I?" she shot back, her voice already beginning to crack beneath the weight of emotion. "What have I done but what was expected of me?"
Tears gathered openly within Alicent's eyes now, though anger burned brighter still. "I have done only what any mother would do to defend her son while you continue to do as you please." The dagger trembled faintly in her grasp as she shoved hard against Rhaenyra's shoulder. "Where is duty? Where is sacrifice? Trampled beneath your pretty foot again."
The two women grappled fiercely enough that nearby lords recoiled rather than risk stepping between them. Fabric tore sharply near Rhaenyra's sleeve as they stumbled hard against the table once more, sending another goblet crashing onto the floor. Rhaenyra forced Alicent's dagger arm away from the boys with all the strength she possessed, fury blazing openly within her expression now.
"Your son suffered a cut upon his wrist," Rhaenyra fired back through clenched teeth. "And mine nearly lost his life tonight as well."
With a sharp shove Rhaenyra forced Alicent backward a step before continuing more coldly, "But this? This madness? You have gone too far."
For the briefest moment Alicent froze.
The dagger trembled visibly within her hand as though only then had she fully seen herself reflected in the horror surrounding them. Her breathing turned uneven while silence briefly pressed across the hall despite the chaos still lingering at its edges. "I..." she faltered quietly, staring down at the blade before her gaze drifted toward Viserys. "What have I done?"
Yet anguish hardened once more into bitterness almost immediately.
"What else was left for me?" Alicent demanded suddenly, louder now as tears finally escaped down her face. "You speak of restraint while my son suffers year after year and no justice is ever given. A child's play, they call it. An unfortunate accident."
A hollow laugh escaped her, sharp with disbelief and pain alike. "No one protects my children except me," she continued bitterly. "He went years without a dragon while they mocked him for it. Years listening to whispers while this court looked away."
Her focus fixed upon Viserys then, wounded fury burning openly within it. "Even now you would have him endure it in silence."
Before anyone else could move, Ser Criston stepped sharply toward the struggling women. His hand had already fallen to the hilt of his sword, instinct overtaking caution as he moved to intervene. Baelor reacted immediately.
He pushed Jace and Luke firmly behind the line of household knights before stepping directly into Ser Criston's path. One hand caught the Kingsguard firmly by the forearm while the other rested near the pommel of his own sword, though not yet drawn.
"Stay where you are, Ser." Baelor's voice remained calm, though his grip tightened around Ser Criston's forearm.
Ser Criston's eyes snapped toward him at once, cold and dangerous beneath the torchlight. "Stand aside before I move you myself."
"You are too close to the matter already," Baelor returned evenly, refusing to move aside. "If you step between them now, this hall will descend further."
Ser Criston attempted another step regardless, forcing Baelor to tighten his grip enough to halt him fully. Fury flashed openly across the Kingsguard's face at the resistance. "The queen commands me," he growled. "Or have they not taught obedience where you come from?"
Baelor did not flinch. "And have they not taught restraint in the Kingsguard?" he countered calmly. His gaze never left Ser Criston's. "The queen is not under attack. She is the one holding the blade."
For a heartbeat, Ser Criston looked ready to strike him outright. "You've been here scarcely a fortnight and already think yourself fit to interfere?" He asked coldly, his hand tightening against the hilt of his sword.
"And you allow passion to blind your judgment," Baelor returned just as coldly. His grip never loosened from Ser Criston's arm. "One wrong move now and blood will stain this hall before the night is done."
Baelor's eyes hardened slightly afterward, voice lower now. "Do not make yourself part of the disaster more than you already are. It will shame the queen's sacrifice."
Neither man yielded.
Ser Criston's stare remained fixed upon him, simmering with restrained fury, while Baelor held his ground without the slightest hint of hesitation. Behind them Luke clutched tightly at Jace's sleeve, both boys pale as they watched the confrontation unfolding around them. Even several gathered knights had begun shifting uneasily now, uncertain which side would finally break first.
"Enough!" King Viserys' voice thundered through the chamber at last, sharp enough to halt movement across the hall entirely before collapsing into a violent fit of coughing that bent him forward upon the throne.
"Have you all lost your senses?" Though weakened and shaking visibly, Viserys's fury still carried through every word strongly enough that even Alicent herself froze beneath it.
At last her fingers loosened around the dagger.
The weapon slipped from Alicent's grasp and clattered loudly against the stone floor below. One of the Kingsguard immediately stepped forward to seize it while Alicent herself remained standing motionless, staring downward in stunned silence as her chest rose sharply with every uneven breath. For the first time since the confrontation began, she looked less like a queen and more like a woman suddenly crushed beneath the weight of what she had done.
Rhaenyra remained standing before her despite the bruising already darkening along her arm where Alicent had struck her during the struggle. One side of her gown had torn near the shoulder, though she appeared wholly unconcerned by it as she instinctively moved back before her sons the moment the danger passed. Fury still lingered openly within her eyes even now, though exhaustion had begun creeping beneath it as well.
Jace stepped toward her almost immediately while Luke remained close behind him, visibly shaken despite his efforts not to show it. Rhaenyra rested one hand briefly against Luke's shoulder without taking her eyes from Alicent. Even battered and disheveled, she still held her chin high before the court.
Across the hall Baelor finally released Ser Criston's arm once he was certain the confrontation had truly ended. Neither knight spoke afterward, yet the look Ser Criston gave him before stepping away carried enough cold promise to linger long after the hall itself had fallen silent. Baelor watched him go without reaction, though his hand remained near the pommel at his hip for several moments longer.
For a time no one in the chamber seemed willing to breathe too loudly.
The air itself felt heavy with disbelief, the echoes of shouting and shattered restraint still lingering against Driftmark's stone walls long after silence had returned. Wine stained the floor between overturned goblets while servants stood frozen near the edges of the hall, uncertain whether they were permitted to move again at all. Even the sea beyond the castle cliffs seemed quieter now.
Then at last Lord Corlys Velaryon stepped forward from among the gathered nobles.
His expression appeared colder than the waters raging beyond Driftmark itself, disappointment and anger alike carved deeply across his face. The hall quieted further still as he swept his gaze across the overturned tables, frightened servants, and shaken princes before finally settling upon the royal family standing at the center of the ruin.
"This matter has gone far enough." Corlys did not raise his voice nor did he need to.
"My daughter has only just been laid to rest," he continued heavily, each word carrying through the chamber with quiet authority rather than force. "And yet blood nearly followed her into the grave tonight."
The weight behind those words settled across the hall like stone.
Rhaenys stood nearby beside her granddaughters in silence, though disappointment lingered openly across her face as she looked upon Viserys and Alicent alike. Even the gathered lords lowered their eyes beneath the shame of what had unfolded during a funeral meant for mourning rather than violence. No one seemed willing to meet Corlys' gaze directly.
At last he exhaled slowly before continuing more grimly, "It seems best for us all to depart at dawn."
Viserys looked suddenly every bit the dying king rumors claimed him to be.
For a brief moment he remained seated in silence upon the throne-like chair, appearing almost crushed beneath the weight of the hall surrounding him. Exhaustion lined every feature of his face while his breathing still struggled to steady itself after the outburst moments earlier. Yet worse than weariness was the sorrow lingering openly within his eyes as he looked upon the family tearing itself apart before him.
"You have my apologies, Corlys," Viserys managed after a long silence, his voice roughened by exhaustion and lingering pain alike. "This disgrace should never have stained your halls."
Viserys's hand tightened weakly against the armrest beside him before his expression hardened through visible effort. "The queen shall remain confined to her chambers until I decide otherwise."
Murmurs rippled immediately through the gathered nobles.
Some exchanged startled glances while others lowered their heads before anyone could notice their reactions. Even among the Kingsguard came the slightest shift of unease at hearing the punishment spoken so openly before the entire court. From beside the princes, Baelor noticed several men seemed uncertain whether to look toward Alicent or avoid her entirely.
Alicent herself stared at Viserys in stunned disbelief.
For a heartbeat she appeared almost unable to comprehend what she had heard. Then hurt slowly gave way to anger once more, quieter now yet somehow far more dangerous than before. "You would punish me," she asked bitterly, "for defending my son?"
Viserys did not answer.
The king merely turned his gaze away instead, exhaustion seeming greater than whatever strength remained for further argument tonight. Baelor could tell then that Viserys wished only for the matter to end before the hall collapsed entirely beneath the strain of it. Whatever anger or guilt lingered within him, he no longer possessed the strength to endure another confrontation.
Ser Harrold stepped beside Alicent carefully afterward.
Not forceful enough to humiliate her publicly, yet firm enough that the expectation remained unmistakably clear. Alicent's jaw tightened visibly, though at last she allowed herself to be guided away without resistance. Before departing, however, her gaze drifted once more toward Rhaenyra and the boys standing behind her.
One by one the court slowly began dispersing beneath the suffocating heaviness left behind by the confrontation. Lords gathered their cloaks in uneasy silence while servants hurried to clean overturned goblets and spilled wine from the floor before dawn could expose the full disgrace of the evening. Conversations became cautious whispers now, hushed enough that even small sounds carried strangely through the chamber.
The hall gradually emptied until only the immediate household, guards, and scattered attendants remained beneath the dim torchlight. Without the noise of the court filling it, the chamber suddenly felt far larger and colder than before. Somewhere in the distance waves crashed against Driftmark's cliffs, the sound faintly echoing through the silence left behind.
Maester Gerardys approached Rhaenyra carefully once the worst had finally passed.
"Princess, if you would permit me," he murmured gently while gesturing toward the bruising darkening along her arm. Though reluctant at first, Rhaenyra eventually allowed him to examine the injury beside one of the remaining tables. Even then she remained standing tall, as though refusing to show weakness before those still watching.
The maester spread ointment carefully across the swelling while muttering beneath his breath about strain and bruising. Rhaenyra endured it without complaint, though her attention never fully left her sons even for a moment. Baelor noticed the way her gaze continually returned toward Jace and Luke, as if reassuring herself they remained truly unharmed rather than merely standing before her.
Jace attempted to stand straighter whenever she looked his way, clearly trying to appear calmer than he truly felt. His jaw remained set with determination despite the lingering shock visible beneath it. Luke fared worse.
The younger boy lingered close beside Baelor with lingering anger still burning through the exhaustion visible upon his face. He watched the Kingsguard standing near Viserys with resentment while the king quietly reprimanded them from afar for their hesitation earlier. "They stood there like statues," Luke muttered bitterly under his breath. "If Ser Baelor hadn't stepped in—"
Baelor silenced him with only a brief glance downward.
The look was not harsh, nor truly reprimanding, yet firm enough that Luke understood immediately what he meant. This was neither the time nor place to speak further. The boy pressed his lips together afterward, though irritation continued simmering plainly across his expression.
Jace noticed the exchange beside them and quietly rested a hand against his brother's shoulder. "Luke," he warned softly.
"I know," Luke grumbled back, though more quietly this time. His gaze shifted briefly toward Baelor afterward, frustration easing somewhat beneath embarrassment. "Still doesn't make it untrue."
Baelor pretended not to hear the last remark.
Instead he remained standing beside the princes in silence while Maester Gerardys finished tending to Rhaenyra's injuries nearby. Yet despite himself, he could still feel the lingering stare of Ser Criston from across the hall every so often, cold and watchful beneath the torchlight.
The confrontation may have ended, but Baelor suspected the consequences of it had only just begun.
Baelor rested one hand lightly against the pommel at his hip before finally addressing Rhaenyra once Maester Gerardys had finished tending her arm. "It grows late, Princess," he remarked evenly. "The boys should rest after tonight. If it pleases you, I can escort them back to their chambers myself."
Rhaenyra looked toward him then, exhaustion shadowing her features though her expression remained difficult to read beneath it. For a moment she did not answer immediately, her eyes studying him with the same careful thoughtfulness she often carried whenever weighing matters she did not yet fully trust. Before she could speak, however, one of her sworn protectors stepped subtly nearer, already expecting the task to fall to him instead.
"Ser Lorent will bring them," Rhaenyra decided at last, her voice quieter now that the chaos had faded from the hall. "The corridors are secure enough."
Luke frowned almost immediately at the answer.
The younger prince had clearly expected Baelor to accompany them after his actions tonight. Even Jace, who remained far more measured in such matters, seemed faintly puzzled by the decision. His attention shifted briefly between his mother and Baelor as though trying to understand the change himself.
"But—" Luke began before stopping at once beneath the look Rhaenyra gave him.
It was not harsh, only firm enough to remind both boys that this was not a matter open for argument tonight. Whatever frustration Luke carried immediately settled back behind silence, though not very successfully. Jace rested a hand lightly against his younger brother's arm before either could speak further.
"Go with Ser Lorent," Rhaenyra instructed more gently afterward. "I will join you soon."
The princes obeyed reluctantly.
Jace inclined his head first despite the lingering uncertainty upon his face, while Luke lingered several seconds longer beside Baelor before finally stepping back. The younger boy glanced over his shoulder twice while departing toward the corridor, as though still half-expecting Baelor to follow despite his mother's command. Baelor remained where he stood until both princes vanished fully from sight alongside Ser Lorent.
Only then did he turn back toward Rhaenyra.
By now Maester Gerardys had already taken his leave as well, dismissed with quiet thanks after ensuring the bruising upon her arm required nothing more serious. Without the gathered court surrounding her, Rhaenyra suddenly appeared far more weary than before. The rigid composure she had maintained throughout the confrontation had begun slipping at the edges now that fewer eyes remained upon her.
For several moments neither of them spoke.
Only the crackling torches lining Driftmark's hall and the distant sound of waves striking the cliffs beyond the castle filled the silence between them. Servants moved quietly in the background clearing overturned goblets and stained cloths from the tables, though even they seemed careful not to disturb the stillness lingering around the princess.
Rhaenyra finally lifted her gaze toward him fully.
"Walk with me, Ser Baelor," she requested softly after a long pause. "There are matters I would speak of with you tonight."
Baelor inclined his head immediately. "As you wish, Princess."
Together they departed the ruined hall beneath the dim light of dying candles, leaving behind the echoes of a night that none within Driftmark would soon forget. The corridors beyond felt far quieter compared to the suffocating tension of the chamber they had left behind, though traces of unease still lingered everywhere in the keep. Passing servants lowered their heads quickly at the sight of Rhaenyra, avoiding her gaze as whispers quietly followed in the wake of the evening's events.
Neither spoke immediately as they walked.
Rhaenyra kept a measured pace despite her exhaustion, one hand occasionally brushing the bruised arm Maester Gerardys had treated moments earlier. Baelor remained half a step behind her out of respect, though his thoughts had already begun turning toward why precisely she had asked him to accompany her instead of remaining with the princes.
Before long footsteps echoed faintly from behind them.
Ser Lorent returned shortly afterward once Viserys had finished delivering his fury upon the guards and sworn protectors who had failed to intervene swiftly enough during the confrontation. The men had endured the king's reprimand in heavy silence while servants nearby pretended not to listen. By now the great hall had nearly emptied entirely, leaving only scattered candlelight and the lingering bitterness of what had transpired.
Rhaenyra slowed once the knight approached.
"Take the princes back to their chambers," she instructed quietly, though authority still remained clear beneath the weariness in her voice. "Remain outside their door tonight. No one enters unless I command it."
"At once, Princess," Ser Lorent answered without hesitation.
The knight bowed before departing once more toward the princes' chambers, his armored footsteps gradually fading deeper into the corridor beyond. Rhaenyra watched after him briefly until he disappeared from sight entirely. Only afterward did she continue walking once more, though her expression had grown distant again beneath the flickering torchlight.
Baelor followed silently beside her, the sounds of Driftmark's restless sea echoing faintly through the stone halls ahead.
Neither spoke immediately.
The silence stretching between them felt strangely heavier than the shouting that had filled the hall moments earlier. Baelor remained half a step behind her out of respect, though his thoughts had already turned inward, restless despite the calmness he maintained outwardly. He found himself wondering what precisely she wished to discuss with him at such an hour.
A part of him suspected he already knew.
Perhaps he had crossed some unseen boundary with her sons tonight. He had grown closer to the boys quicker than he ever intended, especially Luke, and though Rhaenyra had thus far permitted it without complaint, Baelor understood well enough how swiftly trust could change within noble courts. He was still newly arrived upon Driftmark, still little more than a stranger carrying a borrowed name and uncertain loyalties.
His jaw tightened faintly at the thought.
Perhaps tonight had convinced her he had involved himself too deeply.
Rhaenyra's office rested near her private chambers, tucked deeper within the keep where fewer servants wandered at such a late hour. Candlelight spilled softly beneath the doorway ahead while the corridors surrounding them remained mostly dark and still. Baelor kept his gaze respectfully lowered as they approached, though his thoughts continued circling the same uneasy possibilities.
Then the faint sound of a crying babe interrupted them both.
The noise carried softly through the corridor from behind a nearby door, thin and distressed enough that Rhaenyra halted almost instantly mid-step. Without hesitation she crossed toward the sound and pushed the door open herself, moving with a swiftness that surprised even Baelor after the exhaustion she had shown earlier.
The chamber beyond was far warmer than the corridor outside.
Soft candlelight glowed gently across the nursery walls while the faint scent of milk, lavender, and burning oils lingered in the air. A wet nurse stood near the cradle attempting unsuccessfully to soothe the crying infant, though visible relief crossed her face the moment Rhaenyra entered the room.
"Princess," the woman greeted hurriedly, dipping her head. "He woke moments ago and would not settle."
"How long has he been crying?" Rhaenyra asked while already reaching toward the child.
"Not long, Your Grace," the nurse answered quickly. "He's merely restless tonight."
The babe quieted almost immediately the moment Rhaenyra gathered him into her arms.
Baelor remained respectfully near the doorway at first, allowing the women space while his gaze drifted instinctively toward the child instead. Silver wisps of pale hair rested atop the infant's head, soft against the candlelight. Only then did realization fully settle within him.
Joffrey.
The youngest of her sons with Laenor Velaryon was still scarcely more than a babe.
Rhaenyra shifted him gently against her shoulder while pacing slowly through the nursery with practiced familiarity. "There now," she murmured softly while brushing careful fingers along the child's back. "You are safe. Hush now, sweet boy." The crying gradually lessened beneath the rhythm of her voice until only faint whimpers remained against her shoulder.
Baelor watched quietly from where he stood.
There was nothing forced within her movements, nothing performative for the sake of appearances. Every touch carried the ease of long habit, the sort born only through countless sleepless nights spent tending frightened children. It struck him then how naturally she had rushed toward the sound of her son's crying without a second thought, despite the bruises still fresh upon her arm from the hall below.
The wet nurse nearby released a weary breath once the child finally began calming. Exhaustion lingered openly across the woman's face after the night's chaos, and Rhaenyra noticed it almost immediately. "Go and rest for a while," she instructed gently without taking her eyes from the babe. "I can manage him."
"My princess, I could remain if you wish—"
"That was not a request," Rhaenyra interrupted softly, though kindness still lingered beneath the firmness in her tone. "You've had a long night too."
The woman hesitated only briefly before bowing gratefully and withdrawing from the chamber. Once the door closed behind her, silence settled over the nursery once more. Yet unlike the suffocating silence left behind in the great hall earlier, this one carried warmth instead of tension.
Only Baelor, Rhaenyra, and the child remained.
Joffrey's small breathing gradually steadied against his mother's shoulder while the fire crackled softly nearby. Rhaenyra continued rocking him absentmindedly as she crossed slowly through the room, every so often brushing her lips lightly against the babe's silver hair without even seeming aware she did it.
For a long moment Baelor simply watched her in silence.
And he found himself unable to reconcile the woman before him with the versions spoken of in histories yet unwritten.
The tales he remembered painted Rhaenyra Targaryen as prideful, reckless, hungry for power beyond reason. They spoke endlessly of ambition, betrayal, and war, reducing entire lives into little more than lines inked upon parchment by men who had never truly known her. Yet none of those histories had spoken of this.
None had spoken of a mother bruised from protecting her children only moments earlier, still standing awake deep into the night to soothe a frightened infant herself rather than leaving it to servants. None had spoken of the way her first instinct in danger had been to place herself between harm and her sons.
Baelor lowered his gaze briefly then.
He knew all too well how much worse tonight could have become. Had Alicent reached the boys in her fury, blood truly might have stained Driftmark's halls before the night ended. Rhaenyra had known that possibility as well, and still she had stepped forward without hesitation.
Not as a claimant nor a princess, but simply as a mother protecting her children.
Joffrey finally settled fully within her arms, his small cries fading into slow, steady breaths against her shoulder. Rhaenyra exhaled quietly then, some of the tension leaving her posture at last now that the babe had calmed. Only afterward did she glance toward Baelor, finding him still standing silently near the doorway with his attention fixed upon her.
"You are staring, Ser Baelor," she observed softly.
There was no true sharpness within the remark, only quiet curiosity beneath the exhaustion lingering across her features. Firelight flickered gently against the silver of her hair while Joffrey slept peacefully against her shoulder, entirely unaware of the chaos that had unfolded earlier within the hall below.
Baelor inclined his head slightly at once. "Forgive me, Princess." His voice remained calm and even as ever, though thoughtfulness lingered quietly beneath the words. "I was only thinking that the realm often speaks of succession when it speaks of you."
Rhaenyra studied him carefully across the dim candlelight.
"And now?" she asked after a moment.
Baelor's gaze drifted briefly toward the sleeping child in her arms before returning to her face. The answer came more honestly than he intended.
"Now I think they forget you are a mother first."
Silence followed afterward, though not an uncomfortable one.
For the briefest moment something softer crossed Rhaenyra's expression at those words, faint enough that another man might have missed it entirely. Then her eyes lowered once more toward Joffrey, her fingers absently brushing through the babe's pale hair while she continued swaying gently beside the hearth.
She held him a while longer after that.
Only when the child's breathing deepened fully into sleep did Rhaenyra finally turn toward the adjoining office chamber nearby. Baelor followed quietly behind as she crossed the threshold, the warmth of the nursery giving way to a room lined with shelves of scrolls, maps, and scattered correspondence left unfinished upon the desk.
His gaze drifted briefly toward the smaller cradle resting near the far side of the chamber beside her writing table.
The sight caught his attention almost immediately.
It was not newly placed there either. The wood had been polished smooth with years of use, the edges worn faintly where countless hands had rested against it over time. A soft woven blanket lay folded neatly within, clearly kept ready rather than forgotten storage tucked away in some corner.
Baelor suspected then that Jace and Luke had once slept there as babes as well while their mother worked late into the night over matters of court.
Rhaenyra crossed toward it without hesitation. Carefully, she lowered Joffrey into the cradle, adjusting the blanket around him with practiced gentleness born from years of motherhood rather than royal instruction. The babe stirred faintly beneath the warmth, one small hand curling briefly against the blanket before settling once more into peaceful sleep.
For a moment Rhaenyra remained standing beside him. One hand rested lightly against the cradle's edge while her gaze lingered quietly upon her youngest son. The exhaustion she carried seemed more visible now in the privacy of her chambers, no longer hidden beneath the composure demanded of a princess before court. Yet even weary, her attention remained fixed upon her child first.
Only afterward did she finally turn back toward Baelor.
"The boys told me what happened before the hall descended into chaos," she began quietly while moving toward the nearby table. "You protected them tonight, Ser Baelor. More than once."
Baelor remained standing near the center of the chamber, posture straight despite the late hour and lingering fatigue pulling at him. "Any knight sworn to your household would have done the same."
"Perhaps," Rhaenyra returned softly, though something in her tone suggested she did not entirely believe it.
She leaned lightly against the edge of the table afterward, studying him with careful attention once more. "Yet you have known my sons only several days and still you stepped before danger without hesitation." Her violet eyes narrowed ever so slightly in thought. "Not every man would."
"I am not a fool, Ser Baelor," Rhaenyra continued quietly. "I know little about you still. But tonight, my sons trusted you when fear took hold of them."
Baelor lowered his gaze briefly at that. Thoughtful silence settled over him before he finally answered. "They remind me of my sons."
Rhaenyra's expression shifted faintly then, curiosity softening some of the weariness lingering upon her face. "Your sons?" she repeated. "You have children of your own?"
For the briefest moment Baelor hesitated.
Images surfaced within his thoughts unbidden and painfully vivid despite the years separating them now. Valarr laughing during sword practice beneath the blazing Dornish sun. Matarys racing recklessly ahead upon horseback despite repeated warnings to slow himself before he broke his neck. Memories from another life entirely, so distant and impossible that at times even Baelor himself struggled to believe they had truly belonged to him.
The ache left behind by them settled heavily within his chest.
He forced it back beneath stillness before it could reach his face.
"They are far from here for the time being," he replied carefully at last. "Farther than I would prefer."
His focus drifted briefly toward the sleeping babe nearby before returning once more toward Rhaenyra. "But I hope to reunite with them soon."
Rhaenyra remained quiet after that.
Something within her expression gentled further as she watched him across the candlelit chamber, as though she recognized the weight hidden beneath words he had deliberately left unfinished. Perhaps because she too understood what it meant to fear distance from one's children. Or perhaps because grief, in all its forms, was rarely difficult to recognize in another person once one had carried enough of it personally.
"You miss them greatly," she observed softly.
Baelor allowed the faintest shadow of a smile to touch his features then, though sadness lingered quietly beneath it. "Every day."
The room quieted once more after that, filled only by the soft crackling of the hearth and Joffrey's steady breathing nearby. Beyond the windows, the distant waves of Driftmark continued crashing against the cliffs beneath the darkened sky, their rhythm faint yet constant against the silence surrounding them. Yet unlike before, the quiet between Baelor and Rhaenyra no longer carried uncertainty.
It felt almost comfortable now.
Rhaenyra broke the silence first.
"I have been thinking on tonight," she admitted slowly while moving toward the table near her desk. Her fingers tapped lightly once against its surface, thoughtful rather than restless. "On what happened before the fighting began, and afterward as well."
Baelor remained silent, allowing her to continue.
"Jace listens to you already. Luke trusts you openly." A faint breath escaped her then, something between weariness and reluctant amusement. "Even frightened, they looked toward you first."
Baelor frowned faintly at that. "They should look toward you, Princess."
"And they do," Rhaenyra returned immediately, the answer leaving her without hesitation. "But boys require more than a mother's protection, especially princes."
Baelor sensed there was more she wished to say.
Rhaenyra straightened slightly afterward, some of the exhaustion easing from her posture as resolve settled in its place instead. "You fought with restraint tonight despite every reason not to," she continued. "Most men in that hall allowed emotion to rule them. You did not."
Her eyes remained fixed steadily upon him. "You kept the boys from escalating matters further even after Aemond provoked them."
Baelor's jaw tightened faintly at the memory. "He insulted them," he answered simply.
"He did," Rhaenyra agreed. "And still you chose restraint over pride. That is not merely the work of a swordsman, Ser Baelor."
Understanding settled slowly within him then.
He remained still for several moments while the fire crackled softly nearby, waiting for her to speak the request fully aloud. Somewhere behind them Joffrey stirred faintly within the cradle before settling once more into sleep.
At last Rhaenyra spoke plainly, "I would have you continue training them."
Baelor lifted his gaze fully toward her.
"Not only with steel," she clarified. "Discipline as well. Judgment. Conduct."
"Jace carries too much responsibility upon his shoulders already, and Luke..." A small breath left Rhaenyra, softer now. "Luke feels everything too fiercely."
Rhaenyra's gaze drifted once more toward the sleeping cradle nearby. "And when my youngest is old enough," she added more softly, "him too."
For several moments Baelor simply stood there absorbing the request.
He had expected suspicion tonight. Distance perhaps. A quiet warning not to involve himself too deeply with princes whose futures balanced dangerously upon politics and bloodlines alike. Instead, Rhaenyra offered trust.
A dangerous thing.
Trust at court was dangerous. Men offered it like a gift and wielded it like a chain. Yet when Baelor thought of Jace trying far too hard to appear older than he truly was, or Luke masking fear behind stubborn defiance, he found himself unable to refuse even before the answer fully formed within him.
Perhaps because somewhere deep within them, they reminded him too much of the boys he had once failed to protect from the cruelties of the world.
Baelor lowered himself into a respectful bow. "It would be an honor, Princess."
For the first time since entering the chamber, true relief flickered visibly across Rhaenyra's features. Subtle and fleeting, yet unmistakable all the same. Some small measure of tension seemed to leave her shoulders at his acceptance.
"Good," she murmured softly afterward. "Then perhaps tonight was not entirely without purpose after all."
Baelor rose once more while firelight danced quietly across the chamber walls.
Near them, little Joffrey slept peacefully within the cradle beside his mother's desk, untouched by the fears and ambitions surrounding his family. Beyond the nursery and Driftmark's stone walls, however, the storm gathering around House Targaryen continued growing with every passing day.
And Baelor knew well enough that storms such as these rarely spared the innocent.