Chapter one          𓃦          Silence

The blood gushed from the cut, sliding down his cheek, filling any free skin it could. His hands dipped the cloth in the freezing water that was just brought in the chambers, his fingers twisting and twisting. If he was to be alone, Baelor would let the blood spill wherever it would, not caring enough to clean it himself. But he was aware the doors would swing open at any given time, Alyssa and Rhaella rushing inside to tell their father of all the small (and, by their words, extremely important) details they learnt with the Septon.

He placed the cold cloth against the wound, hissing in pain as it came in contact with the freshly cut skin. More blood spread across his cheek, it felt as if Baelor was unable to clean his own skin. The doors cracked open, though he didn't hear (or he just simply didn't care) and her shoes clicked against the floor. She closed the doors, louder this time, with her hip, "you are incompetent."

Baelor whistled like a wolf, fingers grazing the blood, eyes never leaving the bowl of water, "that is a new word. Has my brother taught you that one?"

If she could, Myna would've slapped that grin off his face. But Baelor was a prince, nonetheless. Instead, she strolled towards him like a lion watching its hopeless prey. Her hand reached for his chin, fingers tracing his jaw, pulling at them to look at her. None of them said a word when Myna took the wet cloth from his hands and brushed it against the wound. He didn't hiss this time.

"He has not," she replied to the previously asked question, fingers gently tapping the cloth onto the skin, "I have read it."

Baelor – if he wouldn't know Myna to her very soul – would believe her. Instead, he chuckled, but not stepping away from her touch, "since when can you read?"

Her fingers stopped for a split moment before returning to their work, "since a moon ago. That is what your brother taught me."

Baelor hummed in response, his eyes moving from one inch of her face to another. Her eyes never met his, more focused on the wound. He hummed once more, "you should step back. They are coming."

Myna removed the cloth from his cheek, her hand, and placed it in his. But, of course, Baelor had to lean forward to steal a kiss from her before she could move too away. The doors swung open, Alyssa being the first one to run inside the chambers, calling for her father. Baelor dropped the cloth in the bowl again, brushing any blood mixed with water as he crouched down and opened his arms for the eldest of the twins to run into him, almost knocking him down.

He pressed a sweet kiss against her temple, brushing away the brown hair from her forehead as she started to babble in her own way, telling him how the Septon and her read about the time of Conquerors and just how much she loves Rhaenys. Baelor smiled at his daughter, her fingers, by accident, scratching the wounded cheek, letting him hiss.

"Father," Alyssa shrieked out by her father's yelp of pain, her fingers moving from his hair to inspect the cut, "what did you do?"

"Training with your uncle," Baelor replied simply. Though he was not completely lying, truth was far from being spoken. Especially to his daughter.

Soon enough, Rhaella came inside the chambers – the quieter of the two, she held her mother's arm as if she was afraid to let go, thinking she'll lose her if she did. Though the twins didn't seem to notice (or didn't seem to care enough to say something), it was the first thing their mother noticed: Myna still stood close to Baelor and Alyssa as well as the desk with the water filled bowl, her hands covered in the mixture of water and blood.

But, Genna Lannister was raised to be the ever so obedient wife and mother. So, she played the role perfectly – a hand was clasped on the growing belly, the other around Rhaella's fingers, placing a smile on her lips, "Myna."

"My lady," Myna replied with a bow of her head, even though there was no mutual respect between the two; more of a façade of a pretend friendship, "I shall go now."

Genna gripped her daughter's hand harder once Myna started to walk pass them as if she was afraid the woman might snatch her from her grip and take her away from her like she did with everything else that ever belonged to her. Once she was out of the chambers, Rhaella pilled herself from her mother's side and walked to her father – step by step, not as courage's as Alyssa. Still, she settled by her father's side, his hand on her back, circling the pink dress she wore so proudly.

While Baelor crouched on the floor to listen to the twins go on and on about their studies, Genna walked to the desk and dipped her fingers in the water and searched for the cloth. As if he understood what she wanted, Baelor pressed few kisses on each of the twins' faces, covering their skin in as much kisses as possible. He took a step between the daughters to get closer to his wife – though Rhaella and Alyssa already moved away from their parents to grab the dolls by the fireplace.

Her hands were colder than Myna's, Baelor thought. Even the way her fingers wrap around the cloth, bringing it to his cheek. Her hand shook ever so lightly as if she was still afraid of him. She wanted to ask about it, about what she was doing here again, why her hands were covered in his blood. But – by the teaching of her mother and grandmother – wives, especially wives of prince's – should never ask questions of this.

"How was your day?" Baelor asked, loud enough for Genna to hear, but not loud enough for the twins to hear. As if this was truly the only thing he ever asked his wife, not even knowing about what to speak to her.

"Good," Genna hummed in response, dipping the cloth in the water again before bringing it to his cut, "yours?"

"Besides the cut?" he responded, not hissing at her touch, "good."

"Good," she repeated as a whisper, moving the cloth carefully over the cut before dipping it in water and turning her head on her right, "Rhaella, sweetling? Bring me the cloth by the fireplace, please?"

Rhaella, the moment she heard her mother's request, jumped from where she was sitting with Alyssa and dropped her doll to get to the basket of cloths ready for moments like these. She grabbed the top one and rushed to her mother's side. Genna smiled down at her and brushed the mop of auburn hair on the top of her hair, taking the cloth in her hands. It hurt both the mother and the daughter that her belly didn't allow her to crouch down anymore to kiss her head. Instead, Genna brushed her thumb against her cheek, "thank you, sweet girl."

Rhaella offered her a wobbly smile, a smile that reminded everyone of Baelor, and quickly ran back to her sister to return to their play. Genna turned back to Baelor and started brushing the water off his skin. As if he could read her mind, he spoke up, "it was Aegon."

Genna finally met his eyes before quickly looking away and back to the skin of his cheek, "I do not doubt it."

"You do," he fought back, "I can tell. It had nothing to do with anything else but a brother's sword fight. No inner thoughts or whatever. Aegon is just a drunken fool who cannot hold a sword properly to save his life."

Genna didn't respond. She wanted to believe Baelor's words, she wanted to believe her husband, the man that gave her life a new reason to enjoy with the birth of the twins. But deep inside, she was aware her husband was nothing more than a liar and a deceiver. Still, she cared for him in her special way.

"Say something," Baelor spoke again once Genna refused to give an answer, a fight back, "anything. I cannot stand the silence."

"There is no silence," Genna responded as the twins loudly played with the dolls; one played Visenya, one Rhaenys.

"I did not mean the children and you know it," he responded, almost bitterly, watching Genna remove the cloth, assumingly it was done.

"What do you want me to say?" Genna asked, still refusing to meet his eyes, moving away from him to get rid of the cloth.

"Scream, yell at me, call me names, whatever," Baelor spoke, tone still annoyed, but glanced at the girls once in a while to see if they heard it or not, "I cannot stand your silence."

"I shall not yell at you nor call you names," Genna replied, dropping the cloth by edge of the desk, "you only do this to rile me up."

Baelor clicked his tongue, not saying anything. He moved away from her and towards the twins, swiftly moving them from the ground and each on his hip while they let out a spit of giggles. He placed kisses on each of their temples, moving back to Genna so she could do the same. In times like these, Genna believed Baelor had an ounce of humanity, an ounce of love for her.

She smiled at how excited the twins looked once more as they were brought closer to their mother. Genna placed her hands first on Alyssa's cheeks, pressing a kiss on her forehead before moving to Rhaella and doing the same. When done, Baelor moved to the doors. Before Genna could find her voice to ask, Baelor already spoke, "to my mother's."

Alicent – despite sometimes not being a good mother – adored her grandchildren. Even in the early evenings when she would often busy herself with needlework, she much preferred her chambers to be loud with the children rushing around, trying to gain as much attention from her as possible.

Even when Baelor walked inside with Rhaella and Alyssa still firmly grasped onto his hips, their tiny hands tugging onto his hair to get most of his attention, Aegon (surprisingly) sat opposite their mother with Jaehaera pressed in his side while Jaehaerys tugged onto the edges of their grandmother's green dress, desperately trying to get into her lap.

Alicent's eyes lit up again like the sun seeing the moon when Alyssa called for her. She stood up with a brush of the silver curls off Jaehaerys's forehead, causing him to frown, as she moved to the doors to take the excited Alyssa in her arms from her son's hip.

She prompted the twins with kisses which only made them giggle at the skin contact before pressing a kiss on Baelor's temple, her thumb gently rubbing against his cheek, "where is Genna?"

"Resting in our chambers," he replied quickly, without missing a beat, tone softened.

"And of Visenya?" his mother continued her questions.

"Resting in her crib," Baelor replied without a second thought as he watched Alyssa tugging onto the edges of her grandmother's typical Hightower hair, "Aly."

"What?" the girl turned her head to her father; cheeks chubby, lilac eyes, an innocent smile on her lips though she knew well what her father was to scold her for.

"Do not tug onto people's hair."

"I do not mind," Alicent turned her head on her right where her eldest grandchild was prompt on her hip, "will you tell me what you learnt today?"

"Mother, you should not encourage–"

"She is my granddaughter, Baelor," the Queen interrupted his ramble, moving back to the armchair, "she can do whatever her heart desires."

Rhaella hid her face in Baelor's chest – a trait her father adored and hated at the same time. She adored his daughter with all his being but hated how terrified she was of the world – her chubby hand holding onto the edge of his deep green shirt. He mumbled sweet nothings into the top of her hair, moving them towards the balcony where his mother's sitting area was.

Neither of the brothers acknowledged each other – no nod, no word, no glance. Baelor wanted to be nothing like his twin, not his shadow, not his equal. All he wanted was what Aegon considered his birthright. But he got nothing. Rhaella positioned herself on her father's lap, legs on one side, head on his chest as she watched Alicent occupy herself with Alyssa and Jaehaerys climbing into her arms.

Baelor wanted to make a remark of the cup, of what he assumed was Dornish red wine, by Aegon's armchair but said nothing for the sake of their mother's sanity. For a while silence washed over the room, the only sound coming from Alyssa, Jaehaerys and Alicent babbling over something the children learnt with the Septon.

"Alright," Alicent sighed, looking from the two children who now climbed from her armchair – a gift from House Lannister from a few moons ago – in order to chase each other through the chambers, "what is it?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, mother," Aegon replied, an arm on the back of the armchair, the other hand resting the cup in his lap.

While Alicent and Aegon went on and on, Baelor pressed a kiss on Rhaella's head, causing her to look up. Her big lilac eyes – that reminded Baelor of a baby deer he'd see in the woods when he went hunting with Aemond during their youth – stared into his own. If he could, he'd give her the world, "go play with your sister and cousin."

Rhaella pouted, sticking her bottom lip out, pressing her head back into his chest. His hand caressed her back as she whispered, "no, I want to stay here with you."

A child's mind is a funny thing – though Baelor sometimes scared Rhaella, she spent her entire time admiring her father, wishing to be by his side just like she adored her mother. She pressed her forehead against the deep green shirt her father often wore; a tradition enhanced by his mother from his youth, "I do not want to go."

"Sweetling, come on," Baelor whispered against the top of her head, pushing her from his chest, from his warmth, "you must spend time with your family."

Another pout, "but you are my family."

Baelor smiled at her, hands clasped her chubby cheeks, "I am. But so are Alyssa and Jaehaerys. Ask Jaehaera if she wishes to play with you."

Though with another pout, Rhaella slid down Baelor's leg and jumped on the floor. Her hair was a mess when she walked to her uncle and her cousin; auburn hair adored by pink ribbons, something close to a braid though strains of hair cut through it. The pink dress she loved so dearly dragged along the floor and her mother wanted to cut it shorter a few days ago but Rhaella pouted again, saying she will grow soon and the dress will be too short then. She tapped Jaehaera on her shoulder – covered in a baby blue dress, her hair perfectly standing in two braids – to which she responded with a toothy smile, quickly pealing herself from her father to be with her cousin.

"What is it?" Alicent now asked Baelor once the children were out of the view, fingers tapping against her knee, "why are you not speaking to each other?"

"We are," Baelor fought back, one leg over the other as she leaned back against his armchair – deep green, dragons sewed against the couching.

Their mother shook her head, "whatever it is, stop it. Talk about it and do not act like children."

They were children, of course. Freshly turned twenty, which, for many, is far from being children. But the stolen youth played a part of it; while Aegon fathered his twins at the age of sixteen, Baelor already helped with his own twins at that age. And both welcomed their third child that year – Baelor a moon after their name day, while Aegon welcomed Maelor a few moons after that. And, while Helaena rested after the difficult birth, Genna was already placed back into pregnancy soon after. The thirst for more Heirs, in hopes for a son, was too great for Baelor.

Baelor only hummed in response, leaning his head against his prompted-up arm while Aegon chuckled against the cup of wine, downing whatever he had left. Just as he wanted to click his fingers for another cup, his mother scolded him, prohibiting him from getting a new one, "behave."

"I am," Aegon replied, more sharply, practically slamming the dark brown cup against the table by the armchair.

"You are acting like a child," Alicent whispered, not loud enough for the children to hear, leaning slightly forward on her knees, "you are a man grown, how can you act so childish?"

"Do not fret, mother," Aegon chuckled, standing from his armchair and rounding it, "you already have a golden child, do not fret about me."

Baelor chuckled when his, a few minutes older, twin pointed his extended arm his way, "thank you for acknowledging that, brother."

Jaehaera and Jaehaerys rushed to his side, little hands clasping his pants, "father, father, can we go see Morghul and Shrykos?"

Just as if he wanted to bit Baelor, Aegon ruffled the children's hair – gaining a pout from his daughter, who's perfectly neat hairstyle was ruined – and spoke, loud enough for everyone, especially his nieces to hear, "of course we can go see your dragons."

Just like Baelor, his daughters had no dragon. The egg placed in his crib never hatched while Aegon's did. He spent years keeping the egg warm – his fireplace, the open balcony during the summer heat, under fur – but nothing worked. So, at age thirteen, when his younger brother gained Vhagar, Baelor snuck out of Dragonstone that fateful night, stealing one of Syrax's eggs. Though the egg inside his chambers gave it away, Baelor never admitted to stealing the egg which cause the division between him and Rhaenyra. He named his dragon Moonfyre. And just like his, the eggs placed in the crib of Rhaella and Alyssa never hatched.

Baelor shook his head at his twins' childish behaviour – if he truly had an issue with him, he should keep it at that and not involve his innocent children. Aegon stumbled against the doors, the twins giddily following like ducklings. Alicent looked at Baelor with almost pleading eyes, "please, go check on them."

"You have Ser Criston for that," Baelor replied, not meeting his mother's gaze as he stood up, rounding the armchair to get to his twins, offering his hands to them, "I am not his guard."

"Baelor," Alicent almost whispered, standing up, watching her son and granddaughters walk to the doors, "please. You saw his state. Do you wish for him to not look over your niece and nephew and let them get hurt?"

"They are not my children, mother," he hissed back as Alyssa clasped his fingers around her, "if this is the way he wishes to raise them, let him. It is not my issue. I care for my own and that is all I care about. I bid you a good night, mother."

And with that, Baelor pushed his children out of the doors. He heard his mother call his name, almost pleadingly, but he didn't care. He let the door slam on the way out.

AUTHOR'S NOTE . . .
YOU SEE???? THIS is what i was talking about in the introduction. i hate this man sm but he's so pretty goodbye😭😭