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The summer rain outside the window was sparkling in the morning sun.
It was as if even nature wanted to welcome the little Targaryen prince into the world. The midwives present at the birth kept whispering about what a good omen it was. A sign from the Seven, the old women claimed.
Maekar paid no attention to such ancient superstitions. After months of torment and almost two days of labour, he was just happy to finally hold his child. Another little prince.
Aerion.
Not a daughter, as they had thought. But the boy had the light silver-gold hair, exactly as Baelor said. It was still too early to tell what colour his eyes would be, but deep down Maekar already knew. They would be violet, just like his own. At least one child would be spared the cruel words of the courtiers.
The doors to the chamber swung open.
Baelor had finally returned.
Despite the midwives' indignation, he had been with Maekar throughout the painfully long labour. The older midwives claimed it was inappropriate for a husband, and especially for a prince, to be present with his omega at such an intimate moment. However, Baelor ignored all their protests. He stayed, holding Maekar's hand, and endured all of his partner's cruel words. He did not dare leave the chambers for a moment, even when Maekar was furious. It was the least he could do. If he could have, he would have taken all of Maekar's suffering upon himself. Or at least he would’ve learned to refuse him when he disregarded his own health, insisting on yet another child.
Well, after long anticipation their son was born perfectly healthy. Maekar could finally breathe a sigh of relief. All the pain and fatigue that had plagued him during his pregnancy disappeared. It was as if they had left his body with his son.
Baelor sat down next to Maekar, allowing omega to lean on his shoulder. He gently stroked their son's thin, pale hair. Judging by his posture and contented scent, the King was happy about the birth of another grandson. Moreover, one in whom the dragon's blood was particularly evident. This didn't matter to Maekar. He could have give Baelor ten more dark-haired children and they both would’ve been just as happy. Unfortunately, the older lords and smallfolk of the kingdom still believed in the old traditions and legends about their house. Maekar hoped that by the time Baelor took the throne, these tales would be long forgotten.
“Father is happy about the new grandson,” said Baelor quietly. “He wishes you a speedy recovery and hopes to meet our son in person as soon as his duties permit.”
Maekar said nothing. Instead, he moved closer to his husband, craving his closeness. He didn't want to worry about his father. Their relationship had been complicated for years. Now he was a grown omega. He had a wonderful husband and four sons. It was to them that he wanted to devote his time and devotion.
Baelor did not pursue the subject either, although something was clearly bothering him. It seemed that the conversation with the king had not gone as well as Maekar had initially thought. But now was not the right time to discuss matters of the kingdom.
Tomorrow would bring a return to court and his duties to the Crown. For now, though, they could stay in their little bubble, enjoying time with their new child.
⋆˚₊ 𖤓☽˚.⋆
The good omen whispered about by the midwives turned out to be false.
Of course there was no denying that Aerion was a healthy, strong child. He ate at regular times, rarely woke up at night and only cried when he missed his parents, who were busy with their royal duties. This did not happen often. During his first pregnancy, back when he was carrying Valarr, Maekar promised himself that he would primarily devote his time to his children. He tried to keep this promise, even finding time to check on his sons despite his busy schedule.
He was glad that Aerion was an easy baby to care for. After such a long and tiring pregnancy, Maekar had feared that it would be exactly the opposite. The nannies at the palace could not praise the little prince enough.
However, it soon became very clear that they sang their praises way too soon.
Baelor was the first to notice. Aerion was developing quickly. And in a quite different way than his older brothers did. By the time he was barely a year old, he was already running around the castle corridors. He learned to speak his first words just as quickly. But he also quickly realised his position at court. It sounded irrational. After all, he was just a baby. He had barely outgrown his nappies. His second name day was slowly approaching. And yet, Baelor saw something disturbing in his movements and behaviour. Even at such a young age, it was as if he was calculating every next step.
When he thought about it, he felt like a terrible father. There was nothing unusual about his older sons, yet he felt uneasy when he looked at Aerion. It was as if some strange energy lurked in the shadows around his youngest son.
He noticed a change in the boy's eyes whenever Valarr was around. They burned with something strange and dark. His eldest son, may the Seven bless him, didn't seem to notice. He happily entertained his little brother, reading him old Valyrian stories and bringing him all sorts of toys. Anything to do with dragons delighted Aerion. However, all the praise for Valarr seemed to irritate him.
It was a pattern. Whenever Baelor or Maekar praised their eldest son for his progress in his studies or his excellent swordplay, something disturbing would happen: Burnt toys. Destroyed books. Broken vases. And at the heart of this mess was Aerion. It was as if he was fighting for his parents' attention by causing this chaos.
When he realised what Daeron was going through…
The maesters concocted a potion to help the boy sleep. Baelor recalled how Maekar, usually unshakable, had wept with relief in his arms when their son had finally slept through the night. Nevertheless, he continued to visit his son's chambers and watch over him until he fell asleep. As his wife often said, he did it for his own peace of mind.
It was at this time that Aerion's nightly excursions began.
The servants searched the entire castle for the youngest prince. That night, Maekar had to stop watching over his fragile son and start watching over his youngest instead. None of the nannies could find the boy. It was his father who finally found him. Or perhaps it was Aerion who found his father? The little prince seemed terrified. He hugged Maekar, crying loudly and with big tears streaming down his delicate face. Maekar stayed with him through the night, as the child was still frightened by his impulsive escape.
Baelor really did not want to blame him for anything. He was worried when his youngest son suddenly disappeared. But these escapes began to happen again and again.
However, the most frightening thing was the night when Daeron's potion suddenly disappeared.
It was kept in the Maesters' chambers and locked away so that no one could get to it without permission. After all, if it became known that one of the princes was being given a special elixir every evening, his life would be in danger. The court was full of whispers and conspiracies. If an enemy spy got wind of it, Daeron could easily be poisoned. Therefore, precautions were taken. Only Baelor, Maekar, and the Grand Maester knew about it.
Upon hearing of the disappearance of the carefully hidden bottle, Baelor was paralysed with fear. Had someone overheard them? Was there a traitor among the maesters assigned to the palace?
As it turned out, the answer was much simpler, but also much more terrifying:
Aerion.
Only the Seven know how he managed to get his hands on that vial. If it weren't for the stablehands' reports, probably no one would have found out. The horses had begun to behave strangely. They were lethargic and barely moved. This was unprecedented. Baelor ordered his trusted men to investigate. It quickly became clear that this was the result of the missing potion. Alpha knew who might be behind it. He felt terrible about it.
He ordered the Grand Maester to produce another bottle of the potion.
He made sure to inform Maekar of this while he was in Aerion's chambers. Then he waited. After dark, he went to the stables. He did not have to wait long. Soon, he heard quiet, small footsteps. It was just as he had thought. His little son, with his big purple eyes and chubby cheeks, crept into the stables carrying a bottle.
“Aerion. What are you doing?” Baelor asked calmly, emerging from the darkness.
At the sound of his father's voice, the boy nearly dropped the bottle. His large eyes, so similar to those of his beloved omega, widened in terror. He moved backwards instinctively, close to the stable door.
“I asked you a question. What are you doing here in the middle of the night?” said Baelor, crouching down to look the boy in the eye.
“I'm helping the horses,” Aerion finally whispered, looking innocently at his father.
“Give me that potion, please,” replied the alpha, reaching out his hand towards his son. The child handed him the bottle without protest. “Why did you take it?”
“It helps Daeron,” replied the boy, shyly clasping his hands together. As if on cue, his violet eyes filled with tears. “I thought it would help the horses, too.”
Baelor wanted to believe him; he really did. Perhaps it was just an innocent idea from an unaware child. But why had he chosen that particular bottle? He must have searched for it for a long time. Could it have been just a coincidence?
Unfortunately, his son was too much like his beloved husband. Seeing Maekar reflected in little Aerion made it impossible for him to stay angry with the child for long. He sighed and picked up the boy.
“You shouldn’t have done that, Aerion. You could have hurt the animals and the servants,” he said, carrying his son out of the stable. “And you certainly shouldn't have taken bottles from the Grand Maester's office. You could have poisoned yourself. We would have been heartbroken if anything had happened to you.”
“I'm sorry, Papa,” the boy whispered. “I meant well.”
“I know, little one. We'll talk about it tomorrow. It's late, you should go to sleep,” said Baelor, stroking his son's fair hair.
⋆˚₊ 𖤓☽˚.⋆
By the time Baelor returned to the chamber, Maekar was already in bed and ready to sleep. He was holding a thick book on his lap, probably with stories from Old Valyria.
“Where have you been?” And why do you smell like a stable boy?” the omega asked, wrinkling his nose at the smell of hay.
“Aerion was in the stable. He was watering the horses with a mixture prepared for Daeron,” replied Baelor, rubbing his face wearily.
“Aerion?!” Maekar jumped out of bed, leaving his book somewhere amid the bedclothes. “Where did he even get that damn potion?”
“I don't know. He just said he wanted to help the horses, whatever that means,” replied Baelor, slowly unbuttoning his black doublet. One thought was running through his head, but he was afraid to say it out loud. He didn't want to upset his husband.
“That boy... His ideas get worse every month,” said Maekar, pacing nervously around the room. “I dread to think what he’ll do when we have another child.”
“My dearest, we’ve discussed this,” Baelor interjected firmly, approaching his husband. "You've given birth to four children in such a short time. The line of succession is perfectly secured. We don't need to rush into having more, do we?”
“I remember,” hissed the omega. He looked upset, but he let his husband embrace him.
“Anyway, there's a more serious matter we need to discuss. Aerion,” said Baelor, kissing his husband on the forehead. “He's only two, but he acts as if he were much older. First it was those strange fires, and now he's been poisoning the horses...”
‘I know. And the way he looks at his brothers...” Maekar replied quietly, resting his head on his alpha's shoulder. “I'm worried about him. About all of them. I keep thinking it might be our fault. Do you remember the Redgrass Field?'
“You mean the night we conceived him, my dearest?” I remember it well,’ said Baelor, inhaling the sweet scent of his partner.
“Do you think... Could that place have influenced him? All that bastard blood spilled...” ‘It's well known that blood magic was practised in Old Valyria,’ said Maekar. 'What if we've been cursed?'
“I've been thinking about that, too. For several moons, actually. But I didn't want to accuse him of anything. He's still just a child. He's our youngest son,' said Baelor, releasing calming pheromones. ‘We can only watch him. If he really is cursed, we'll find a way to help him.”
⋆˚₊ 𖤓☽˚.⋆
Over the next few years, Aerion changed. He calmed down. He became the perfect little Targaryen prince — exactly what the court had expected.
This reassured Baelor and Maekar somewhat. However, Baelor and Maekar's worst thoughts still returned, especially when the boy's sweet face suddenly hardened. Nevertheless, all the tantrums and crying had stopped. At least in the presence of the two men.
When Aerion was five, Aemon was born.
The older boy seemed happy in his new role as big brother. He hovered around his omega father and the infant, eager to help in any way he could. Maekar allowed him to do so, believing it would be good for his son. However, Baelor kept watching. He saw moments when the mask slipped and the shining purple eyes filled with anger. But he kept those thoughts to himself. He decided to keep an eye on his son, ready to react and extinguish the fire burning within him. He only hoped that, when the time came, he would not be too late.