Baelon King of all Dragons

Chapter 7

2nd Moon, 111 A.C.

(I had to take the years from the show; otherwise, Rhaenyra's age wouldn't work with her traumatization by Aemmas death. But hey, Aemma lives six years longer than in the books...)

High above the clouds of King's Landing flew a golden dragon with its young rider to distract her from another of her mother's ongoing pregnancies. The dragon was, by some, considered the most beautiful dragon in existence. Its name was Syrax, the name was perfect, but not only for the beautiful, playful diva of a dragon but also for the father of its rider, for he was often indulging in parties and festivals in the form of tourneys, and even the wine wasn't something that he shied away from.

But today the diva dragon was doing everything it could to distract its young rider, the Princess Rhaenyra, who, at 4 and 10 namedays old, had been branded the Realms Delight by her father and his court.

But today, the realms Delight was flying over the city while worrying about her mother, whose pregnancy hadn't been without problems. She was hoping that at least she would be fine after this pregnancy and that her idiot father would stop forcing this on her mother; after all, they already had Baelon, who by all accounts was not only a strong and healthy man by now at 7 and 10 years old, but the strongest man there was and intelligent to boot. But still, her father would always say that his own father had been healthy and sound of mind right up until his death, and so he sought out his second son to have the spare he always wanted, the spare he saw in his dreams.

But before she could think more about it, she felt herself being pulled up by Syrax, who was passing right above the Red Keep. As she looked down, she saw squieres in the training yard of the castle and children playing in the streets of the city below, and as her eyes glanced to the streets at the side of the Dragonpit, she found a silver carriage with a silver guard and a young maid in what seemed to be a green summer dress sitting before it.

"Come, Syrax, let's go down a bit. I have to go to my father eventually."

The dragon, feeling the reluctance of its rider, hummed lowly and flapped her powerful wings to get to the dragonpit.

Once they landed, Rhaenyra was greeted by her childhood friend Alicent Hightower and her own personal Kingsguard, Harrold Westerling.

"You look relieved, Ser."

"I'm always relieved; if the golden beast brings you back to me alive, princess, it saves me my head for another day. Your father, his Grace the King, is holding a small council meeting and is waiting for his cupbearer."

"But you wouldn't forbid me from seeing my mother first, would you?"

"Of course not, Princess; the safety of the queen is on all of our minds."

"Good. Alicent, good to see you. Are you finished with your studies today?"

"Yes, I am; even if you were not present, I unfortunately don't have a dragon that could carry me away from Septa Marlow."

"Well, Syrax is growing quite quickly; I guess we could pick a second sattle in a few moons."

"No, you can hold on to Syrax alone. I'm not made to be so high up in the air without some footing under me to walk on."

"I don't know if I can count that as a no, but just because it is you, I will let it slide that you don't like my sweet Syrax."

"Thank the seven for your mercy, or I wouldn't be able to tell you that Baelon is in the city to report on the reconstruction of Harrenhal."

"Wait, my brother is back; why didn't you say so earlier?"

After Rhaenyra heard that, she walked to the carriage at a fast pace and looked at Ser Harrold and Alicent questionably.

When she arrived at the red Keep checking on her mother; they had a short discussion about her not needing mothering from her daughter and the fact that the childbed is a woman's battlefield in this world.

Rhaenyra, knowing that she was right but not wanting to accept the fact, left after making sure her mother was fine and not in any more pain than in the other days of this pregnancy.

As Rhaenyra walked to the small council chambers, she pondered if Baelon would let her fight even though she was a woman and asked herself if Baelon would be so obsessed with having children as his father or if she could even give those to him if that were the case.

As she opened the door, she heard her brother talk about the innovation he discovered on how to make the liquid stone the Valyrians used to build roads and a variation of it that was used to build dragonstone.

"Ah, Rhaenyra, welcome; your brother was just telling us about his discoveries in Valyrian architecture."

Said Viserys, completely forgetting that Rhaenyra was late or that she reeked of Dragon in favor of his passion for Valyrian architecture.

As she was walking around the table to every member of the council to give them their share of the Arbor-Gold, only Corlys and Baelon wouldn't accept the drink. While no one other than Viserys spoke to her directly, her brother gave her a small smile to reassure her that she hadn't done anything wrong that would lead him or Corlys to not accept the drink.

"And when can we expect those methods that you seem to have recovered to be sent to the citadel or even made public to this council?" Asked the authoritarian and arrogant voice of otto Hightower.

"Well, Lord hand, if my mind doesn't deceive me, there are three houses in Westeros that have Valyrian descent; would you mind telling me the names of those houses, my lords and lady?" The last part is directed at Viserys, Corlys, and Rhaenys.

In order, they gave him the names Targaryen, Velaryon, and Celtigar.

"And my lord hand, to what house do you and the Citadel belong?"

"I myself am a part of the House Hightower, and the Citadel serves the realm, not a single house, but if you want to know on which territory it is placed and who founded it, it would both be the House Hightower too.

But I don't really see the problem here. Valyrian architecture was ahead of its time; it should be shared, not hidden away."

The Grandmaester nodded furiously along while the other members of the council thought about it.

"He means that it doesn't belong to you; it belongs to Valyria and its descendants, just as a Valyrian steel sword like Ice has belonged to House Stark since thousands of years and has been given back to them after every time a lord that held it in battle died and the Starks were forced to let it be where it was and retreat, or like it has been done to your house and vigilance."

Viserys, sensing the tension in the room, called the meeting to a halt and proposed to hold the rest of the meeting the next day.