116 AC, late at night.
The Red Keep was silent, with only the wall’s night watchmen passing by at regular intervals.
Baelon Targaryen appeared silently in his bedroom amidst a faint ripple in space, without alerting anyone.
The room still bore the damage caused by the magic burst during his last crossing: stone bricks on the walls were cracked, the desk was tilted, and a faint mark remained on the carpet.
Baelon took out his wand from his sleeve, gave it a gentle flick, and whispered an incantation.
“Reparo.”
magic swept through the entire room; the cracked masonry healed quickly, the overturned objects returned to their places, and all traces were restored to their original state in an instant, leaving the bedroom neat and intact once more.
While tidying the room, Baelon’s gaze swept faintly over the spot where the Shadowcat-hybrid black cat used to be placed.
As early as the night of his first crossing when his power spiraled out of control, this cat that had accompanied him for a long time had been secretly poisoned to death, and its body had been quietly disposed of during his absence, leaving no clues behind.
Within The Red Keep, someone was attempting to test him with poison, or even trying to remove him through an accident.
He privately speculated that the poisoner most likely came from one of the factions within The Red Keep coveting the throne—House Hightower, Velaryon, or House Strong—all of whom had sufficient motive and capability to strike in the shadows.
But he gave it only a passing thought and then put the matter out of his mind, not taking it to heart.
The spying from the shadows, the silent malice, and the conspiracies and schemes of the court were already beneath his notice now.
What he truly cared about was never the petty squabbles within The Red Keep, but the magic that spanned two worlds, his ever-growing power, and the confidence to control his own destiny.
As long as his power was strong enough, all the vipers hiding in the shadows would be nothing more than dust to be crushed at will.
Baelon put away his wand, knowing clearly that if he frequently disappeared without reason in the future, it would inevitably trigger rumors and suspicion in court, and might even be exploited by the three great houses of House Hightower, House Strong, and Velaryon.
To avoid trouble, he had to reach an understanding with the King immediately.
Taking advantage of the late night when no one was around, he quietly left his bedroom, avoided the patrolling guards, and headed to Viserys I’s chambers.
The Kingsguard on night watch recognized the prince and did not dare to stop him, letting him pass directly.
The lights in the chambers were dim; Viserys was still awake due to his gout.
Seeing his son, who had been missing for nearly seven days, suddenly appear, he was both shocked and anxious, and immediately dismissed his attendants.
Baelon truthfully explained to the King that his disappearance was not a conspiracy, kidnapping, or an assassination attempt, but merely a whim to go out and play, only that he had gone quite far and failed to return in time.
He did not reveal the secret of the other world and magic, only guaranteeing his safety and that he would not do anything to harm the royal family or the kingdom.
Viserys fell silent for a moment after listening, showing no shock, anger, or accountability.
He chose to believe his son and promised to use the excuse of “sneaking out to play” to cover his tracks and quell the court’s gossip.
Seeing this, Baelon took out a small crystal Potion bottle from his robe; the liquid inside was pale silver, shimmering as it flowed.
He placed the Potion gently on the small table in front of the King.
“Father, this is a Potion I brought back from afar; it is beneficial for your body.”
“You have labored over state affairs for years, and your gout and old injuries have accumulated, causing severe damage to your health.
This Potion can slowly repair the internal damage, alleviate the pain, and allow you to regain your energy.”
Viserys picked up the Potion bottle, looking at the luster that did not resemble any herb or maester’s Potion in Westeros, and understood in his heart that this must be a special item his son had brought back from a distant place.
He did not ask about its source, but simply nodded and, at Baelon’s gesture, slowly drank the Potion.
After just a moment, a gentle yet powerful energy spread through his body.
The excruciating pain of the gout that had tormented him for years significantly lessened, the stiffness and strain in his back eased, and even his breathing became much smoother.
Viserys let out a long breath, a look of relief appearing on his face that hadn’t been seen for a long time.
“This thing…
is truly marvelous.”
“You are very thoughtful.”
The father and son spoke in low voices for a while longer, confirming the narrative and details for covering his future tracks, before Baelon bowed and took his leave to return to his bedroom to rest.
Early the next morning, the King sent someone to inform Baelon of an important matter.
On the third day after Baelon’s disappearance, the golden dragon egg he had been nurturing for years had cracked open on its own without being touched, hatching a hatchling that was entirely golden-gilded with pale pink wing membranes.
This matter caused quite a stir within The Red Keep.
Viserys immediately ordered that the most experienced Dragonkeeperss take care of it, temporarily housing it in the Dragon Pens inside The Red Keep without making a public announcement.
Baelon went to the Dragon Pens immediately.
The hatchling was placed in an enclosure lined with warm sand and dry straw; though still small, it already displayed the majesty of a true dragon.
The Dragonkeeperss in charge of its care bowed and stepped aside upon seeing the prince arrive.
Baelon walked closer slowly, making no sudden noises, only slowly releasing his mental power and bloodline aura.
The hatchling was initially a bit wary, but the moment it caught his scent, it immediately became docile, lifting its small head and letting out a weak but clear cry as it approached him step by step.
Baelon reached out and placed his hand gently on the hatchling’s head.
An innate bloodline resonance spread between the man and the dragon; the hatchling affectionately nuzzled his fingertips, completely acknowledging him as its master.
The Dragonkeeperss watched in amazement but did not dare to say much, only reporting the details of the hatchling’s diet, routine, and care one by one.
Baelon gave a few simple instructions and then turned to leave with the hatchling.
Over the next few days, Baelon resumed his normal court routine, attending events, dining, and interacting with nobles and courtiers on time.
Facing the concern of the Hand of the King, Lyonel Strong, he responded that he had simply sneaked out to play.
Facing Otto Hightower’s subtle probing, his attitude was calm, neither humble nor arrogant.
Facing Rhaenyra’s inquiries, he only said he was fine and told the princess not to worry.
Regarding the hatching of the dragon, the court merely regarded it as a resonance of the true dragon bloodline and an auspicious omen, with no one connecting it to his disappearance.
The atmosphere in The Red Keep completely returned to stability, and the previous tension and speculation gradually dissipated.
As for the poisoned cat, the poisoner in the dark, and the latent malice in the court, Baelon never mentioned them again nor investigated them.
He didn’t care about it at all and didn’t deign to be distracted by it.
Those little maneuvers hidden in the shadows were meaningless in the face of an absolute power gap.
His mind was already entirely focused on traveling between the two worlds, practicing magic, and increasing his power.
After the court order was completely stabilized, Baelon went to the King’s study and formally requested Viserys for permission to travel alone.
He explained to the King that staying in The Red Keep long-term, with every move under everyone’s eyes, was too restrictive; traveling as a prince to familiarize himself with the lands around Dragonstone and Blackwater Bay was both reasonable training and would allow him to arrange his own affairs more freely.
Viserys thought for a moment and then agreed to the arrangement.
His health had improved significantly due to the Potion’s repair, and he was more at ease letting his son arrange his own itinerary.
A few days later, the King publicly announced at the Small Council meeting: Prince Baelon Targaryen would go on a journey to broaden his knowledge and familiarize himself with the kingdom’s territories, temporarily leaving the court, with his return date depending on his itinerary.
The Hand Lyonel Strong, Otto Hightower, and the courtiers present had no objections, viewing it as a routine training for a member of the Targaryen royal family.
The news quickly spread through The Red Keep and King’s Landing, and everyone assumed the prince had already left the court.
Baelon left The Red Keep low-key that evening, without attendants or announcing his route, and left the city alone.
He walked all the way to a secluded and deserted beach by the Blackwater Rush, and after confirming there were no guards, scouts, or witnesses around, he stopped.
Standing on the riverbank, he closed his eyes and sank his mind deep into his consciousness, awakening the mental anchor that connected the two worlds.
The magic in his body and the Targaryen bloodline power operated simultaneously, resonating with the anchor.
He took out his wand, tapped himself lightly, and recited only two necessary spells.
“Confundo.”
“Muggle-Repelling Charm.”
The two spells smoothly covered his body, erasing his abnormal presence in the Muggle world to avoid being noticed by ordinary people.
The next moment, he focused his intent and locked onto the coordinates of his return in the wizarding world—an open space on the outskirts of London.
Space twisted, folded, and then unfolded again.
The sound of wind, water, and the scent of the Blackwater Rush vanished instantly.
Baelon landed steadily, his feet stepping on the cool soil of the London outskirts.
He put away his wand, confirmed no one was around, and then waved his hand lightly to summon a magical transport.
A few moments later, a roar approached from afar, and the purple body of the knight bus suddenly appeared, stopping in front of him.
The conductor poked his head out and asked for the destination as a matter of routine.
“The Leaky Cauldron,” Baelon said faintly.
He boarded the knight bus, the doors closed, and the vehicle turned into a purple blur again, speeding through the night.
Just a few minutes later, the knight bus stopped steadily at the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron in London.
Baelon got off, paid the fare, turned to push open that inconspicuous wooden door, and stepped into the safety of the wizarding world.
Back in Westeros, everyone thought he was out traveling.
But he had successfully returned to Harry Potter’s world, bringing his dragon with him.