NOVEL NEXT Chapter 3: Chapter 3: The Prince who Knew
Chapter 3: The Prince Who Knew
Date: June 16, 102 AC
Location: Red Keep, King's Landing
Age: 6 months
It had been half a year since Baelon Targaryen had come into the world, and the castle had already begun to buzz with whispers. To the outside world, the infant prince was nothing more than the heir to House Targaryen, his future written in the blood of his family. But for those who had spent time with him, it was clear that something was different—something inexplicable.
Baelon was quiet—unnaturally so for a baby. He hardly cried, save for when he was hungry or needed changing, and even then, his cries were more like soft murmurs, as though he were speaking the language of the world before his parents could hear it. His deep violet eyes, the color of twilight over the Black Sea, seemed to gaze at everything with the wisdom of someone far older than his six months.
King Viserys, who had grown accustomed to the squirming cries of his other children, would often stand at the cradle, observing Baelon for hours. It was as if his son was never truly a child but had always been a man in a baby's body, a prince who already understood the weight of the throne he would one day inherit.
His quiet presence made people uneasy.
Aemma, too, noticed the difference. As a mother, she cherished the rare moments when her son allowed her to hold him in her arms. Yet there was an odd tranquility in his demeanor that seemed far beyond the typical bounds of childhood. Baelon's gaze followed the movements of everyone around him, taking in the courtiers, the guards, the servants—and even his mother and father—with an eerie calmness.
"He is so still," Aemma confided one day to her husband as they watched their son sitting quietly in his high chair, playing with a small toy dragon. "It is not like him to be so... composed."
Viserys, seated across from her, gave a soft chuckle but did not meet her eyes. He had spent many long hours alone with Baelon, contemplating the strange nature of his son.
"I think it is more than that, Aemma," he said softly. "Baelon is... different. I have seen him watch the maesters in silence, as though he understands every word they say."
Aemma's gaze flickered toward their son, who was now staring at them both, his little hands moving the toy dragon with meticulous care. It was as though he was already planning his next move in some grand game.
"He's a prince," she said quietly, though there was a hint of uncertainty in her voice. "He is our heir, and yet—he seems... older than his years."
Viserys nodded, his thoughts darkening. He had been trying to ignore it, but the truth had become harder to avoid. Baelon's intelligence, his unnerving calm, and the way he absorbed information had no place in a six-month-old child. Something about him felt beyond human, as though he had been born with knowledge that should not be his own. It was almost as if he had lived before, and the memories of another life, another world, were already stirring within him.
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The First Words
It was a month later when Baelon's true nature began to reveal itself even further.
The event occurred during a private dinner in the Red Keep. King Viserys and Queen Aemma sat at the table, their closest advisers in attendance, discussing the various matters of the kingdom. Baelon was at his usual spot near his mother, the high chair at the end of the table, his tiny hands playing with a golden spoon.
Without warning, Baelon dropped the spoon and looked directly at his father. His violet eyes locked with Viserys's gaze, steady and unblinking.
"Father," the infant said in a soft, clear voice that sent a shiver through the room.
Aemma gasped, her eyes wide with disbelief, and Viserys froze. The courtiers turned to stare at the child as if they had seen a ghost.
Viserys leaned forward, his voice low and shaky. "You... spoke."
Baelon, still holding his gaze, simply nodded.
"You called me father," Viserys continued, his disbelief slowly giving way to awe. "How... how could you—"
But before he could finish, Baelon spoke again, his voice steady and unnervingly mature for a child so young. "There is no need for doubt. I know who I am, and I know who you are. I will sit the Iron Throne, father, and I will be a king worthy of my name."
The room fell into stunned silence, and Aemma's face turned pale as she looked down at her son. His words were not those of a child, but of a ruler. His small body seemed to carry the presence of something far greater.
Viserys, despite the overwhelming sense of unease, felt an odd warmth in his chest. The child had spoken as if he already understood the burden of the throne and the weight of their bloodline. He had not simply uttered a few words—he had declared something that rang with undeniable truth.
Aemma, however, couldn't shake the feeling that something was deeply wrong. "Baelon, you... you are only six months old. How do you know of such things?" she asked, her voice trembling.
Baelon smiled, a serene and knowing smile. "I know because I have seen it. I will not fail you, mother. I will not fail this kingdom."
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A New Kind of Prince
As the days passed, it became clear to both Viserys and Aemma that their son was no ordinary child. His intelligence, his composure, and his uncanny ability to understand the intricacies of their world left them both awestruck and fearful. The courtiers began to speak in hushed tones about the child who seemed to know things he had no right to know.
The kingdom, too, would soon learn that the heir to the Iron Throne was not the prince they expected. He would be a ruler unlike any other—born not just of fire and blood, but also of mystery, destiny, and a power that even the Targaryens could not fully comprehend.
For Baelon Targaryen, the dragon's heir, had been reborn not just to claim the throne, but to change the course of history itself.
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