Baelon thoughts wandered elsewhere.
Alicent.
Otto Hightower’s daughter.
Otto Hightower is the Hand of the king.
Now Father remarries the Hand’s daughter.
Otto’s blood becomes the royal bloodline.
Coincidence?
Perhaps.
Baelon wasn’t yet certain what game Otto Hightower was playing.
Only that there was a game.
*The trailer.
He still did not understand what war it had shown.*
Another knock came at the door.
Ser Harrold Westerling stepped inside, filling the doorway in white armor—straight-backed and correct, save for the tension set around his jaw.
“Princess,” he said quietly.
“His Grace requests your presence.”
Rhaenyra did not answer at once.
Her fingers lingered around Baelon’s tiny hand for a heartbeat before she gently laid it atop the blanket.
She rose in one smooth motion, wiping away the last traces of tears with the back of her sleeve before quickly smoothing her silver hair.
Looking down, she managed a faint smile.
“I’ll come back soon.” Baelon simply nodded.
She followed Ser Harrold into the corridor.
The door closed softly behind them.
Silence settled over the room once more.
Baelon stared at the empty doorway long after she had gone.
The corridor stretched before her, torchlight flickering against the stone like dying stars.
Rhaenyra walked without haste, her boots clicking softly.
The damp air clung to her skin, carrying the faint scent of smoke and wax.
She raised a hand to her face—still wet from tears she had not meant to shed—and wiped it roughly against her sleeve.
She did not know why she bothered.
The door to Viserys’s solar stood half-open.
She pushed it wider without knocking.
Inside, the king sat hunched over his worktable, a small brush trembling in his fingers.
The model of Old Valyria spread before him—towers of gilded brass, streets etched in silver, dragons coiled around spires like living embers.
He looked up as she entered, his face lined with shadows that had not been there before.
“Rhaenyra.” At last, Viserys broke the silence.
“I should have told you before the council.” His voice was quiet.
“I should never have allowed you to learn it as you did.” Rhaenyra’s face remained unreadable.
Still nothing.
The words she had rehearsed on Dragonstone’s walls—the fury, the betrayal—had dissolved somewhere between the sea and this room.
“That was my failure.” Another silence.
“I loved your mother.” His gaze drifted toward the model before him.
“I still do.
She swallowed once, twice.
“She is not replaceable.” His hands stilled.
“I am not trying to replace her.” A pause hung between them, thick as smoke.
“There are days I forget she is gone.” His knuckles whitened around the edge of the table.
“I reach for her in the dark and find only—” He stopped abruptly, jaw clenching.
Rhaenyra said nothing.
The weight in her chest threatened to split her open.
At last, she spoke.
“I thought…” Her voice caught.
“I thought I was the only one who couldn’t let her go.” Viserys looked at her then.
His eyes were red with exhaustion.
“You were never alone.
I simply failed to tell you.
I failed you in that.”
The silence returned, heavier now.
She had come for answers.
But some questions were knives—better left unasked.
Rhaenyra’s hands clenched at sides “Then why?” The question was barely louder than a whisper.
“Why Alicent?” Viserys did not answer immediately.
He stared at one of the miniature towers before nudging it gently back into place.
“Because a king may mourn.” He looked down at the model.
“A kingdom cannot.”
He drew a slow breath.
“The council was right.
“The realm cannot rest upon a single heir.
Our line has been broken too many times by death and misfortune.
One child is a blessing…
but a dynasty cannot depend upon a single life.” His shoulders sagged beneath the weight of the admission.
“I may never finish grieving.” A faint, weary smile touched his lips before fading.
“But the realm will not wait for me.” Rhaenyra’s brow furrowed.
“Against whom?” Viserys met her eyes.
“Whomever may dare to challenge us.
”
A long silence followed.
When he spoke again, his voice was softer.
“I do not wish for this to come between us but I cannot leave our family vulnerable if I can prevent it.” His voice softened.
“You are never alone in it.
I should have told you that sooner.
I failed you in that.” He fell silent.
He did not defend Alicent.
She understood the words.
“You should have trusted me enough to tell me.”
“I know.”
“You let me stand before the whole council…”
“…without warning.”
“I know.”
“My closest friend knew before I did.”
Viserys closed his eyes.
“I know.” He offered no excuses.
Only the truth.
“I thought I was sparing you.” Instead…
“I humiliated you.” The admission surprised them both.
A long silence followed.
Finally Viserys spoke again.
“You do not have to remain here.” She frowned.
“What do you mean?, “The wedding.
You need not attend.
If staying in King’s Landing is too painful…”
“…then leave for a while.”
His eyes met hers.
“See the realm your mother loved.
Take Ser Criston Cole.” Rhaenyra went very still.”What?”
The king set down his tools properly this time.No more trembling hands.No more evasion.”You do not have to be here for the wedding.” His gaze held hers steadily.”I cannot undo what I have done.
Rhaenyra…but I can give you something else.The realm—the great houses,the roads,the sea.Take Cole.
“Go where you wish.
See the castles.
See the seas.
Return only when you are ready.”
Rhaenyra looked down at the miniature city.
One of the tiny towers stood freshly repaired.
Others still bore cracks too small for anyone but its maker to notice.
At last she nodded.
“I’ll go.” Viserys inclined his head.”Good.
I will arrange everything else” She turned toward door.
“Rhaenyra” She stopped “Your mother would have been glad”His voice followed soft but sure through silence.”To see how like herself you are” Her back remained straight.
Her fingers curled into fists, Then she stepped out into corridor again
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