Chapter 13: Aftermath

[BONUS] (2/2) I have decided on no to Balerion. I have kept my promise as well. Hope all of you have a great weekend.

~

Silence like never before etched the ground. Many gazed at the black pyre that burnt with different emotions.

There was a sense of grief, but there was also an overwhelming feeling of disappointment for the knight.

The sound of the crackling flame seemed to be the only sound in the distance.

Some had known Criston Cole, some had flirted and some had exchanged courtesies. He was a liked man that was a fact.

Out of them all, it was Allicent who seemed heartbroken. Tears welled up in her eyes. She had known Criston for a long time now and he was one of her most loyal knights and a trusted friend.

She bent down, wanting to pray to the Seven, and touch where the fire was burning. However, she would not... death and sadness were something she had been prepared for.

Meanwhile, Rhaenyra too looked at the flames with unknown emotions. Criston was the man she lost her virginity to, her first knight and first betrayal. She would say she is glad but in truth... she mostly felt empty.

Daemon came from behind, holding her by the waist. Rhaenrya raised her head to look at her husband. Both gazed into each other's eyes, walking away from the area.

The Small Council remained and so did Otto Hightower. His entire face was pale. He was old but never had he seemed this aged in his entire life.

The man clutched his fingers tight, his nails dripping with blood. His entire life he spent for the one moment- to see his blood on the throne.

Countless had died in his schemes, innocents, guilty... children. Just, when there was hope... bright beautiful hope that the Iron Throne was in his grasp, it went further away.

In came bursting, a rambunctious arrogant child who cared naught about the game of thrones. Ruthless, cruel, and clever. That summed up Baelon Targaryen.

He was scarier than Aegon and more dangerous than Maegor. One thing, Otto was sure about was that it was Visenya's blood that flowed thickest in him.

An extraordinary child who had destroyed the entire table. His pawn that had finally reached the final line was blown away, conquered by a Queen.

Blackfyre. No one had expected such power in it. Even during Aegon's conquest, it had never shown this potential.

From the corner of his eyes, he glanced at Viserys and almost felt like barfing. The fool was smiling happily as if the Queen he had taken from him had magically revived.

He walked towards Viserys, bowing a little.

"Your grace... Prince Baelon... I feel his actions today were a little extreme.

Viserys stopped Otto from speaking, his eyes cold.

"Otto. Criston was an Oathbreaker, his actions true to his intentions until the very last breath... what Baelon did was well deserved."

Otto nodded, "But your grace, there was not so much need of cruelty... I fear he may be similar to...his ancest-"

"Otto." Viserys's eyes stared into his soul. "What are you implying?"

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Otto bowed his head a little. "Well..." Otto stumbled to find the right words. Calling Baelon similar to Maegor would be akin to the signing of his death sentence. However, he had already played his subtle manipulation.

"Forgive me, your grace."

Viserys simply glared at the Hightower before looking away, ignoring the runt. He glanced at everyone before screaming at the top of his lungs.

"HUDDLE UP! Everyone! Maids, guards, servants... for in days to come I, Viserys Targaryen. King of the Andals and the First Men shall hold a grand feast to celebrate my heir's return in health for the SMALLSFOLK AND NOBLES... ALIKE!!!"

In the start, no one was in the mood but soon they cheered their hearts out. This was Westeros, especially King's Landing where Death was completely normal.

Some danced and others laughed. There was no trace of mourning or sadness. It was as if they lived in another world where the dead could not enter.

Ser Criston Cole had already been forgotten. Many would call Viserys foolish but in reality, he was not. The man simply refrained from playing the game.

Just the ploy of distracting Baelon's crueless with kindness was genius.

Viserys glanced at his subjects that had a newfound respect for his son and the servants of the Red Keep who were filled with happy smiles.

This was the first time a king would have held a feast for the Smallsfolk. It just seemed right.

If one asked him why he let his son fight? The answer was right out there. He had overwhelming trust in him, the moment he seemed healthy.

He still remembered his dream as clear as a memory.

His son was born... wearing Aegon's Iron Crown. In the background, the sound of thundering hooves, splintering shields, and swords as the bells of the Septal rang and all the dragons roared as one.

He was not sure if Baelon Targaryen was the Child from Aegon's Prophecy but he for sure was... from his dream.

Baelon's recovery was not a miracle. He was destined for greatness no matter what. The Blackfyre blade was an example of this.

It was unheard of ever blazing with fire, it was similar to Lightbringer of the Legends and other similar flaming swords.

Viserys's heart was glad. His decision of choosing his son over his wife had not been wrong, and his decision of holding a grand tourney even before his birth had not been wrong...

Viserys felt free of guilt and unchained as a king. In all honestly, he knew he was not one of the best kings but under his rule, the realm had been peaceful.

Under Baelon's it would be better. After all, he was his true son. A part of him felt jealousy but another, the one filled with love repelled it.

Viserys simply hoped he could be there to see Baelon sit on the Iron Throne and play with all his grandchildren and great-grandchildren in the garden of the Red Keep.

He smiled at the thought.

~
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