Heir of the Dragon

Shadows of Grief

The years flowed like the waters of the Blackwater Bay, carrying with them moments of joy and sorrow, laughter and tears. Rhaegar reveled in the newfound camaraderie with his sister Rhaenyra, their hearts intertwined like vines that could weather any storm. Wherever Rhaegar went, Rhaenyra followed like a devoted duckling, her trust and admiration for her older brother unwavering.

Under the shade of the ancient Weirwood trees in the Red Keep's Godswood, Rhaegar would regale her with tales of their house's history, weaving stories of old Valyria and the dragons that once ruled the skies. Rhaenyra would listen with wide-eyed wonder, hanging on to every word. Her first utterances were not of "mother" or "father," but of "Rhaegar," a testament to the bond they shared.

Yet, even as joy bloomed, a looming shadow darkened the horizon. The absence of their uncle Daemon, who had been forced into marriage with Rhea Royce, hung like a pall over their lives. Letters and gifts arrived sporadically, each carrying an undercurrent of his dissatisfaction and longing for the life he once knew. Daemon's complaints about the plainness of Runestone were juxtaposed with stories of their family history, a connection to their roots that he refused to sever. Daemon reminded them that they were Dragons and that Dragons do not bow down even in the face of the extremest of adversaries.

The winds of change brought with them a cloud of death that enveloped the royal family. The first blow came in the form of Princess Gael's passing, a loss that cast a somber hue over the once-lively halls. Whispers circulated among the servants, murmurs of a secret pregnancy and a stillborn bastard son. Rhaegar was shielded from these truths until that fateful day when his grandmother's sobs shattered the morning air.

Queen Alysanne, usually a pillar of strength, crumbled under the weight of grief. Her heartache radiated through the Red Keep, her anguished cries a testament to the depth of her loss. She mourned not just the death of a daughter, but the unraveling of her family's happiness. The once-rosy future now looked dim, each day a struggle to find the light amidst the shadows.

Gael was gone, her vibrant spirit extinguished like a candle's flame. As the family prepared for her funeral, Rhaegar clutched the tiny hand of Rhaenyra, a bundle of confusion in the face of death. They gathered in the private sept, a sacred space where the truth unfolded before them.

Alysanne wept over an empty casket, her grief palpable, while Baelon stood by her side, a steadfast pillar of support. Rhaegar's heart ached as he realized the lie they would uphold, that Gael had perished from a fever rather than taken her own life. The family had no body to perform funeral rites on, as the princess had chosen to down herself in the murky waters of Blackwater Bay. The pyre roared to life, flames consuming the empty casket as they bid their final farewell to a woman whose pain had driven her to the depths of despair.

Daemon returned for the funeral, a specter of grief and anger, his presence a reminder of his conflicted heart. The rift between him and the Queen remained unhealed, a wound that ran deep. As they stood before the pyre, Daemon's eyes were haunted, a reflection of the love he still held for a woman he could never truly forget for if the world had been a little less cruel, Gael would have been his one true love.

Time marched on, flowing like a Morbid river. Alysanne's health deteriorated, her strength waning like a flickering candle. The court's whispers of another death on the way were heard by everyone and they all had to suffer the bitter truth that the Queen's time was drawing to a close. When the news of Queen Alysanne's passing finally arrived, the realm mourned the loss of a queen whose grace had touched them all.

The grandeur of a royal funeral marked her passing, a sea of faces from across Westeros gathered to pay their respects. Rhaegar watched, a mixture of guilt and sorrow in his heart, as Queen Alysanne was laid to rest. He had tried his best to distract Gael from the traveling bard she had taken a fancy to, the one who would eventually father her dead bastard, but even after all his attempts destiny was inevitable, and Good Queen Alysanne was always meant to die from a broken heart.

Daemon returned once more, this time from Pentos where he had gone to escape his 'Bronze Bitch', his heart was heavy with regret for the years he had missed. In a private moment, he confessed to Rhaegar that despite his anger, he had loved Alysanne deeply and wished he could have been there in her final days.

The family endured, united by their love and the memories they held dear. Rhaegar stood by Rhaenyra's side, her small hand in his, as they faced the next wave of grief. Baelon, once a formidable figure, lay bedridden, his strength stolen by illness.

He had come home from a hunting trip complaining about a stitch in his side until suddenly he had grown sick beyond measure. The Tower of the Hand became Baelon's new prison as he grappled with life, his only solace being his grandchildren who visited him and allowed him to regale them with stories of his life.

In his final days, Baelon imparted his wisdom to Rhaegar, his words a legacy to guide him. "You are meant for greatness," he told his grandson, a weighty mantle to bear. Their last moments together were filled with tears and embraces, Baelon's departure leaving a void that could never truly be filled. "Do not cry dear Rhaegar for I am about to return to the arms of my dear Alyssa"

And then, the time came for another funeral, a procession of grief that had become all too familiar. Rhaegar and Rhaenyra stood by Baelon's pyre, a portrait of strength in the face of loss.

Rhaenyra stood there clutching Rhaegar's hand as tears flowed down her pale face. She may have been too young to understand the true reality of death but she had understood that her grandsire was no more and just like Queen Alysanne she would never be able to see him again.

Daemon stood stone-faced with Caraxes ready to light his father's pyre on fire but just as he was about to give the command he was interrupted by an ear-piercing roar. From the clouds emerged Vhagar her cries a symphony of sorrow as she settled on a rock beside the pyre.

She looked Caraxes in the eyes as if saying "Only I deserve to light this pyre". Caraxes slowly stepped back from the Dragon Queen as Vhagar let out a volley of flames at the casket casting it on fire. She roared one last time as if saying her final goodbye to her companion of all these decades and took to the sky not to be seen again for years to come.

As the flames continued to consume Baelon's remains, a symbol of the fire that had burned within him when he was alive, and the flames that would forever live on in his legacy, The world said goodbye to 'Baelon the Brave' the prince of Dragonstone.

As the ashes of their loved one ascended into the heavens, a sense of finality settled over them. The world had shifted, leaving them with memories to hold close and a path to navigate through the darkness.