No, I Prefer Helaena 14: Chapter 14: Aegon?
No, I Prefer Helaena Just before they reached their chambers Baelor stopped.
“Sister, I need a dragon.
One strong enough to cow Daemon and the rest of our house—one that will restore real authority to the Crown.” Rhaenyra did not dismiss the desire.
She only shook her head.
“You are six.
Claiming a grown dragon is too dangerous.
Even our grandfather—Baelon the Brave—did not take Vhagar until he was well into his teens.
Vermithor, Silverwing, Dreamfyre… any of them could kill you.” “Waiting years will be too late,” Baelor answered at once.
“Do you think the Sea Snake will wait?
Do you think Daemon will wait?” Their father had laid the entire board bare: external enemies, internal weakness, and a royal family whose strength no longer matched its name.
An heir without a dragon of his own would be laughed at by every Free City slaver who chose to test the Iron Throne’s dignity.
Rhaenyra sank to one knee and pressed her forehead to his.
“I understand the urgency.
But have you considered what happens if the dragon refuses you—or worse, turns on you?
What becomes of Father?
Of the house?
Of me?” Her voice tightened on the last word.
“Baelor… wait a little longer.
Please.” He exhaled slowly, then nodded under her worried gaze.
“I will wait.
But if the Stepstones turn against us, you will not stop me.” The risk was real, yet the prize—power and reputation beyond measure—outweighed it.
“I promise,” she said, and the tension left her face.
They held each other a moment longer, then parted for their own rooms.
… On the walk back Baelor’s thoughts stayed fixed on dragons.
He had agreed to wait, yet an old Citadel maxim rang true: time was the rarest treasure of all.
The house could not afford the luxury of years.
Waiting until his teens would not be self-preservation; it would be pushing the entire family into the fire.
“I must have a dragon of my own.” The first name that rose was not Vermithor or Silverwing.
It was the wild beast that had haunted his sleep since the age of two—the Cannibal, the creature that had nearly broken his mind.
In the weeks of training since their return, Viserys and Rhaenyra had taught him what they knew of the bond between rider and dragon.
Wild dragons were the hardest of all.
Untouched by men, they fought harder, fled faster, and trusted nothing.
Yet something already linked him to the Cannibal—something closer to the lifelong tie Rhaenyra shared with Syrax than to any ordinary claim.
“First I find it,” he murmured.
“Everything else comes after.” He pushed open his door, already planning to have Larys send reliable men to gather word of the beast’s movements.
A soft, sticky weight collided with his chest.
Helaena, arms full of a red-bound book, had thrown herself against him.
“Helaena?
Why aren’t you asleep?” “I can’t sleep, brother.
Will you tell me a story?” She looped her arms around his neck and rubbed her cheek against his like a cat.
Since Baelor’s arrival in the Red Keep the quiet, half-dreaming girl had attached herself to him with absolute devotion.
Outside of sleep she preferred to be wherever he was.
The dependence did not annoy him.
In Oldtown he had clung to Rhaenyra the same way.
“What story do you want?” She pressed the red book into his hands and pointed across the room.
Aegon was crouched near a side table, stealthily stuffing cream cakes into his mouth.
“He wants the High Valyrian chronicle of the dragonlords.” Baelor turned, genuinely surprised that the lazy glutton had any interest in High Valyrian history.
“I can read it.
Aegon—have you actually passed your Valyrian lessons?” Aegon swallowed the cake in a hurry and answered with solemn dignity.
“I am a Targaryen.
Of course I speak the tongue.” Helaena’s soft voice cut him down without mercy.
“He’s lying, brother.
He only knows a few simple words.” Aegon’s face darkened.
“You little—!” He started forward, but Helaena had already ducked behind Baelor.
The boy could only stand and scowl.
Baelor clicked his tongue.
“Aegon.
Return to your own chambers at once.
I will deal with you tomorrow.” “I haven’t done anything worthy of punishment!
Why treat me differently?” “I have no interest in explaining myself to someone who does not deserve the story.” Still wearing the calm smile of an elder brother, Baelor took Aegon by the front of his tunic, turned, and tossed him bodily into the corridor.
“Ser Erryk, escort Prince Aegon to his rooms.” “At once, my prince.” Erryk inclined his head and looked down at the fuming five-year-old.
“My prince, please do not make this difficult.” Aegon’s mind filled with a thousand silent curses.
Yet the boy in front of him was both his elder brother and the heir to the Iron Throne.
Their mother had already warned him: Baelor was black-hearted and long of memory.
Disobey, and one day the prince might buy him out of everything he owned—including the clothes on his back.
The thought sent a chill down Aegon’s spine.
He fled to the safety of his own chamber without another word.
… Inside the room Baelor settled against the headboard.
Helaena curled into the curve of his arm while he read aloud, in careful High Valyrian, the legend of the Fourteen Flames.
“Brother,” she asked after a time, “if a family has dragons, can the dragonlords of old Valyria do anything they wish?” Baelor considered, then found a clean comparison.
“Think of a dragon as a sharp sword.
House Targaryen is the hand that holds it.
Even the finest blade is useless unless someone wields it on the field.
Without that hand it is only a pretty ornament.” The word “ornament” brought another thought.
House Velaryon was dangerous not merely for its fleets, but for the number of battle-ready dragons it commanded—more than the royal family itself.
The true key to that strength was the blood that could ride them.
He, Helaena, Aegon, and the infant Aemond would all be riders one day.
Of the younger two, Baelor’s preference was already clear.
A quiet, dreamy sister who clung to him was far better material than a brother whose only ambitions were food and idleness.
The choice was no choice at all.
Still, he was no fool.
Before either of them claimed a dragon, he himself must claim one first.