Chapter 35
INTERLUDE
~Five Years Later~
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BAELON TARGARYEN
King Jaehaerys had reigned over the Seven Kingdoms for some forty years. In that time, the continent had experienced peace and prosperity. Many had hoped that Baelon's era would see to it that his father's legacy would continue on.
Yet Baelon knew that he had failed the realm. That he had failed his own father, and his would be a legacy of death and misery. It had all gone wrong at the beginning of his reign, as he lost himself to his rage and sorrow and let his son's words cloud his better judgment.
The plague had not just ruined the Seven Kingdoms, but it had also destroyed his legacy. Initially, the disease had been kept under control by the efforts and prowess of one man, and yet in his sorrow, Baelon had failed to see his efforts and had turned that valuable ally into an enemy by his actions.
The devastation had begun with his departure, and Baelon had spent the last five years reeling from the consequences of that one singular action. He had been the one to order the opening of the gates and the ports, which had led to the spread of the disease to the rest of the Kingdoms, which had then led to the deaths of over a million people.
One could argue that he had simply followed the advice of the Maesters, and yet he was the King and the burden of his decisions lay with him. But the plague had been just the beginning of his worries, for the disease had spared no man, woman, or child in its rage.
It had swallowed even his own family, including his own son. Viserys' death had come as a shock to everyone, and the whole realm had mourned the loss of his son. He was a kind boy, yet Baelon's mistake had cost him his life.
And he was not the only son of Valyria to lose his life to the damned Plague. For even before Viserys' death, tragedy had struck High Tide as Rhaenys' daughter succumbed to the disease.
The death had caused a divide within the Kingdom, one that threatened to swallow the Seven Kingdoms whole if his own fears were right. The Velaryons had blamed him and his family for the death of their daughter and had begun a silent revolt against the Iron Throne.
Initially, the Sea Snake had found few friends, yet the situation had changed greatly after the demise of his eldest son. For with Viserys gone, his own succession had been put into jeopardy.
His eldest, Viserys, was neither the Conqueror nor the Conciliator, yet he was well loved. But the same could not be said for his second son, who was feared by the lords and loathed by the masses for various reasons.
Where Viserys had been kind, Daemon was cruel. Viserys was an agreeable man who had always spoken of peace, yet Daemon much resembled Visenya in his ambition, always championing war and cruelty.
If Viserys was calm and peace, then Daemon was war and death.
It was a contrast, and the Seven Kingdoms were not blind to it. Daemon had not been much popular among the Smallfolk before because of his role in the exile of Galen the Healer, yet his ascension to the position of heir had only made him more proud and unloved.
It was because of him that Corlys had found many allies for his cause, and now both the Lannisters and the Baratheons sided with him, as the Seven Kingdoms prepared themselves for his own demise.
"Have you called her?" he spoke, and once his voice could tear through the Halls of the Red Keep, yet now, as he lay on his bed, he found it hard even to utter some words.
The Spring Prince, they had called him with love, yet now he was but the Plagued King who had caused a million deaths because of his actions. A dutiful King, unloved by the masses.
"I have. She said that she would be here...." and before his Hand could say anymore, he heard someone knock on his door, and he did not need to hear their voice to know who they were.
"Let her in," he spoke with some power, as the servants opened the doors and let in the only Targaryen woman truly loved by the masses. For where Baelon had failed in continuing their father's legacy, Gael had only built upon the good name of their mother.
During the forty years of their father's reign, Queen Alyssane's efforts for the betterment of the smallfolk had won her the title of the "Good Queen," and now she wore that title though not as Queen. Not yet.
There was not much love between him and Gael, for she was born too late. She was closer to his son's in age, and the two of them had never truly bonded as brother and sister.
Add to that the mistake and the cruelty that he had done her by accusing her lover of treason. Still, she had proven herself worthy of her title as she put their differences aside and led the Healers in eliminating the plague from the continent.
Five years ago, she had been a girl, but now she was 'the Gentle Princess' or more famously, 'the Healer Princess' who had saved thousands of lives through her efforts.
She was perhaps the most loved Targaryen, and it pained him to burden her with his failures. But Baelon had long realised that his reign had been a failure, and the only path of salvation for him would lie in his legacy.
The Seven Kingdoms were as divided as they had ever been. The Velaryons were gathering support for their own claim rather openly, and many a lord feared Daemon's frivolous and cruel nature.
"Gael," he greeted his sister, whose eyes grew somber as she saw his frail state, and nodded warmly.
"Brother," she called him, and it was ironic in many ways that years ago, his father had replaced Rhaenys as the heir, thinking that a man would make a far better ruler than a woman.
Yet years later, Baelon was about to do the opposite, for he knew that if he were to leave the throne in Daemon's hands, then war would break out in the Seven Kingdoms. A war that would destroy what little he had managed to preserve of his father's great legacy.
"Thank you, Lord Lyonel," he thanked his loyal hand for his time and company, as the plump man nodded and left the room at a brisk pace, leaving him alone with his sister, whose eyes were examining him from head to toe, as she would a patient.
"I did not call you here for your healing," he teased, as Gael smiled.
"You have need of it," she argued as she pulled forward a chair and plopped down just beside his bed. He did not need to look in the mirror to see what had become of him.
His once muscular and thick arms were now just skin and bones, and he could even see his ribs sticking out of his skin. It was a disease of the lungs, one called 'Consumption'. Though in the lands beyond the sea, there was a different name for it.
"You read the letter yourself," he reminded her, as he looked her in the eye, as her lips thinned.
"There is no cure for it," and even in Braavos, where the Great Healer had found a cure for over a thousand ailments, consumption remained uncurable.
"I did, but..." and he shook his head.
"No more buts," he cut in, having had this argument many a time, as Gael's face shifted.
"It is a miracle that I have lived for so long with this. But I am afraid I can feel the Shadow of the Stranger growing stronger every day," and she did not interrupt him this time, for she knew that to be the truth.
"I am still trying..." and he knew that she was.
"I know, but you don't need to," not for him at least. Baelon had come to accept his fate, and that was why he had called for her. For he would make sure that his would not be a legacy of absolute failure.
"I have come to terms with my fate," he whispered as another bout of cough pained his chest, and he put the cloth to his mouth, and saw it stain red as blood laced his spit.
"Is that the reason for this summons?" she asked, and he shook his head.
"No, I have called you here to talk to you about your future," and now she frowned, as Baelon met her gaze. Gael was old now, and far beyond the usual age of marriage. Despite the rumors about the condition of her womb, many a lord and knight had sought her hand, but she had paid them little heed as she buried herself in her work as the Head Healer of the Hospital.
With Galen's exile, she had taken over his legacy and had built upon that through sheer hard work. As her King and brother, he could have forced her into a match, yet the promise of their father held him back.
"My future?" she asked, as she became a bit tense at his words.
"Yes."
"What of it?" she asked, somewhat defensively, even though there was no need for it.
"I do not have long to live, and you know of mother's condition better than anyone else," and the years had not been kind to the 'Good Queen' who lived still, but was now bound to her bed, unable to walk at all.
And Gael's face softened at the mention of their mother, and the two of them were still as close as ever as Gael tried to repay the love and care she had shown to her during her own youth.
"You know I loathe these games," Gael added as she raised a brow, and Baelon chuckled.
"I do," and for good reason. For these were the games that had brought her much pain.
"Say whatever you summoned me for?" she pleaded, and Baelon took a deep breath as he accepted her words.
"I want you to be my heir," and his words took a few seconds to register, as she blinked owlishly for some time until the implication of those words settled in.
"WHAT!" and she was on her feet, and her voice rang throughout the room, as Baelon nodded.
"Yes," he repeated with some strength.
"Have you lost your mind?" she could not believe, and he shook her head.
"No, I am sane. Saner than I ever was during the beginning of my reign," and he had given it much thought, and the simplest truth was that if there was one way for him to stop a civil war from tearing apart the Seven Kingdoms, then it was to have Gale inherit the throne from him.
"You have a son. It is law that a son comes before a daughter or a sister," and he scoffed.
"Peace is more important than laws," and no laws had mattered when his own father had replaced Rhaenys as heir, and he already had a plan in mind.
"Moreover, a Grand Council can undo any law," he suggested, and she still shook her head.
"You already have an heir, Baelon. His name is Daemon Targaryen, and he is your son," and he was indeed his son, yet he would not let the realm bear the burden of his mistakes again.
"That is exactly the reason that I need you to be my heir," and as King and a father, it was shameful to admit to his own faults, but it was far more honorable to do so than to plunge the Seven Kingdoms into devastation.
"Daemon is not suited for the Crown. He never was," and his second son had always been wilful, but his newfound power and status had only emboldened his worst tendencies.
"And I am?" and he nodded.
"Yes, you are. The lords and the smallfolk both love and respect you. If given a choice between you, Daemon, and Corlys, I am certain that the lords would choose you over them both," and Gael scoffed.
"I..."
"Just listen to me, Gael," and he was pleading now.
"At the beginning of my reign, I made a grave mistake, and I have spent the last five years trying to atone for my sin. I have ruined the good name of our family and the legacy of our father, and you are the only person who can save them both," and though she may loathe the game, Gael had spent the last five years learning it at the heel of their mother, so that she may never make the same mistake she had years ago.
"Even a blind man can see what will happen if Daemon were to ascend to the throne," and the Velaryons would rise in defiance, and dragons would take to the skies once more as they had during the times of Maegor the Cruel.
Daemon was no Maegor, but he was not much different either. He was wilful and unscrupulous and cared little for laws, traditions, and values. Despite nearly a decade of marriage, he still continued to shun his wife and had set his sights on his own niece, just to further his own ambitions.
Baelon had to stop him, for otherwise, blood and bodies would flood the Seven Kingdoms once again.
"Tell me that you do not see it? Look me in the eye, and tell me that everything will be fine," he challenged, and she could not. She could not.
"Even if I were to accept, you very well know of my ailment, brother," she argued softly, and her lips quivered as she met his eyes once more.
"My womb is barren," and indeed, that was what they had known.
"And that is why you must go to Braavos," he replied as her eyes widened in surprise, for the sad truth was that as the Seven Kingdoms reeled from the devastation of the Plague, the Free City of Braavos made progress by leaps and bounds in the newly minted art of 'Medicine and Surgery.'
For centuries, the Citadel had been the envy of the world for its Maesters and wealth of knowledge, yet in but five years, Braavos had not just caught up to the ancient organization but had even surpassed it in many ways.
And all of it was because of one man.
Galen, the Healer. Though in Braaavos, he was not just the Healer, for in his honor, the Sealord had coined a new office—The First Healer.
"Five years ago, he made a promise to you, didn't he?" he still remembered his father's words from the time when he had promised Gael a miracle. Many of them had doubted his words and had thought it to be a false assurance, but with every passing day, as word reached them of his miracles across the Sea, he began to question his own doubt.
"And what makes you think he will ever agree to help me?" she asked solemnly.
"Because he loves you still," and she shook her head.
"That is not enough. We have caused him enough pain. Now, he has built a life for himself, and I do not wish to cause him any more suffering," and he tried to argue again.
"Just listen to me, Gae..."
"My decision is final," she declared, resolutely.
"I will not trouble him anymore...."
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And yet a few days later, his loyal hand would come to him bearing a letter from Braavos bearing the First Healer's seal.
"What does it say?" he would ask.
"The Healer seeks your permission, my King," Lyonel would answer, as his eyes darted over the sentences.
"He claims that he needs to return to fulfill a promise made years ago," and Lyonel had not been at court long enough to know what those words meant, yet Baelon knew the truth and felt that it was a sign from the Gods themselves.
"Lyonel," he began as hope once more sprang to life in his chest.
"Bring me my quill and parchment...."
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