It was true - the people didn't want him dead, mayhaps the Gods. His boots clicked against the floor of the dimly lit hallway, quiet grunts of his wife echoing through the doors. He was unaware, truly. Or he just liked to blind himself, blame the Gods for creating him, blame his father for not raising him, blame his mother for doing a poor work at it. He never blamed himself for any messed he created. He didn't blame the pain he caused Genna on himself either. Orwylle advised the young prince to not take his pregnant wife to the hearing, to allow her to rest. But when has the blood of the dragon ever listen to the words of a common man?

The doors swung open, making Baelor stop in tracks. With his nail stuck between his teeth, biting in the soft flesh around, he asked, "is she alright? The babe?"

"The lady will be fine," Maester Orwylle nodded, a white tissue brushing away old blood, "the babe as well. Kicking like a goat, still."

Baelor nodded, lower lip caught between his lips before releasing them and moving pass the Maester, mumbling a quick thank you before disappearing behind the doors, shutting them closed. Genna laid on the bed, prompted by pillows - two green ones from Alicent, a red one from her father, two white ones from Baelor's old chambers, before she even met him. Warm teas sat idly on the small table by the bed, herbs alike by their sides. One of her feet poked from underneath the covers; Orwylle suggested her to be surrounded by as many warm blankets as she could but Genna didn't like being too hot. She, after all, didn't share the dragon blood as her husband did.

Baelor almost felt sad at the state of his wife. He pushed off his boots and moved to the side of the bed. When he noticed the dry lips of Genna, he took the cup of tea in his hands. He caught himself foolishly giving it to his wife already before he looked inside of the liquid, searching if there is anything wrong with it. Because if he does it to his own father, who says other people would not do the same to his wife?

He helped Genna sit up straight, leaning back, offering the cup to her. Gratefully, his wife pressed her dry lips in a smile and thanked him. He slithered on the bed like a snake and gently pressed his head close to her belly. His fingers traced dragon like shapes on top of it as if his child would see them, whispering, "hello there."

Genna placed the cup on the table when she had enough, allowing her husband to whisper to their child, "it might be time to soon meet you, my little dragon. Rhaella still believes you are to be a girl and that I shall name you Rhaenys. Alyssa still thinks you are to be a boy and that I shall name you Aegon. Either way I think I would be glad."

There was a moment of silence where you could just hear his soft breaths. His patters stopped. Then he whispered again, "at this point I just wish to see you. To meet you. We are both really excited to be able to hold you. So, keep kicking, right? Not too harshly though, it hurts your mother."

Baelor stared at the side of the belly for a few more moments before he pushed his head and looked up at Genna, "I apologize for bringing you to the petition. I was not aware that Daemon would do that."

She shook her head, fingers resting dangerously close to his on her belly, "you could not know of it. I am just glad the girls were not there."

"Me too," he whispered and turned his head to the side to stare at the belly again, his fingers resting atop of hers now.

There is tension in the air when the Targaryen Lannister family arrives in the grand dinning chambers. The Green Queen is already seated behind the long oak table being filled with foods and drinks. Baelor's hands were already twitching for a goblet of wine but were stopped by a cheerful Alyssa whose other, free hand was occupied by small waves to her family with a toothy smile. Sometimes when he looked at his daughter, he'd feel a sense of dread and remorse for what's to come.

By then, Alyssa never met her father's nephews. But, too excited to meet more of her family, she let go off her father's hand and ran to Jacaerys who was telling a joke to Lucerys and their cousins. Alyssa stopped by his feet, small fingers enclosed around his dark pants, tugging on it, "hello!"

Jacaerys looked down and dread washed over him; before he could even look away from the girl, Baelor already tugged her by her should and away from his nephew. Without saying a word, he moved away from the Velaryons, taking Alyssa with him, seating her by Aegon's side. She, too focused on talking to someone, didn't question why her father dragged her away, now excited to talk to her uncle.

Baelor sensed his mother sent him a glare for his temper but he never looked up to meet her gaze. Rather, he walked back to the few steps that lead up to the table, offering his arm to Genna while he hoisted Rhaella on his hip, her pink dress not matching his green doublet. His wife took his offered arm, helping herself up the few stairs that used to be no issue to her. But now, only a moon left to labour, she struggled harder than she ever did. She'd smile at Rhaenyra when she got closer, hoping none of the family noticed. Rhaenyra offered her a smile in return.

Genna was seated between Alyssa and two empty chairs; far from where Aemond (and Myna) sat at the top of the table. Neither of the women looked at each other. Rhaella suddenly felt smaller than ever, her face buried in her father's neck. Baelor mumbled against her temple, "do you not want to sit on your own, little dragon?"

His daughter shook her head, fingers tugging on the neckline of his doublet. Baelor pressed a gentle kiss on the skin of his head before seating himself next to Genna with Rhaella in his lap. His finger fixed the blue dress down her leg and she pushed both of them over his knees. With the hand that didn't rest on her painful belly, her mother gently tugged some free hair behind her daughter's ear, "are you alright, sweetling?"

Rhaella nodded in her father's neck; her thumb stuck between her teeth. Baelor rested his head against hers gently, "she might just be tired. I do not know why this has to be so late."

Despite the silent and unheard pleads of Genna, his older twin pushed a cup of Dornish red filled to the brim pass Alyssa and Genna, landing it in front of Baelor. His fingers twitched again; he wanted to be good. So good. He prayed to whatever creature looked over them to be able to have the same strength in life like Genna did. But Baelor Targaryen was a weak worm that was easily turned. With his free hand he reached for the cup and drinking half of it.

Alyssa was now standing by her aunt Helaena's chair, leaning on her lap as she watched Helaena tell her stories of the bug she was given as a gift from Aegon. With bright and wide eyes, Alyssa swallowed every information possible, unaware of her parents' feelings from the side. Genna struggled with the shallow pains within her belly and lower back; much more stressful than the other pregnancies. Baelor, by her side, watched Rhaenyra smile, giggle, laugh with every word her children made. He'd watch with envy, though he'd never admit to such thing. He didn't feel jealous of his older half-sister. He didn't turn green with envy when he watched her being surrounded with people that loved her. Baelor Targaryen was not jealous of Rhaenyra Targaryen.

"How's Daeron?" he'd ask to pull himself from watching his half-sister, his hand prompted on the edge of the table.

His mother nodded; solemnly, far away from the world at the mention of her sweet son, "good. He likes it in Oldtown."

"He would much prefer it here," Baelor muttered, looking down and away.

"Baelor," Otto grunted as a warning, firm hand on his own cup of wine, earning a glare from his grandson.

A mask started to slip; he knew it. He felt his control over his thoughts, words and body slowly disappearing from his reach. Baelor looked away and stood up with Rhaella prompted on his hip when his father's entrance was announced. While Genna watched the king being brought in with bright and respectful eyes, her husband's were downcast, searching for anything but his father's rotting corpse for which he was partly responsible.

Viserys would shuffle in his seat, far from someone who is named king of the Seven Kingdoms. He'd say a speech; broken bonds he'd say, how he wishes to see everyone content. Baelor spaced out, only being grounded by Rhaella playing with the golden ring on his finger until his name was called.

"Rhaenyra informed me of a proposition that I am most delighted with," he'd start after a few coughs, "that Jace and Luke will marry their cousins Baela and Rhaena. And that Alyssa and Rhaella will marry Joffrey and Aegon when they are of age. A proposition I whole heartly agree with."

He'd feel their gazes on him: his mother with confused eyes, brows furrowed by the edges. His grandsire clenching his jaw, breathing heavy. If he could, Aegon would laugh in his face for it. Aemond mad that his brother would even think to marry his own flesh and blood to the whore of Dragonstone's bastards. And when he'd look at Genna, he'd see nothing: an empty stare at the table in front when the realization washed over her like the waves she wished that consumed her full - she could never save her own daughters from living through the same fate as her.

Baelor didn't listen when his father continued, "for the house of the dragon cannot remain strong if our bonds are broken. We must stay together, as family. Shake hands and forgive each other for the things you have done, said. I will not be here much longer and I wish to see you all content. Happy. I wish to see the house to thrive. Now, let us eat together as family one more time. For the sake of your father. Your brother. Your king."

The word father was rotting in the children he had for duty. There was only one child that remained who was brought to the world for the king's love for his wife. The children he had with Alicent Hightower were bound to him by duty to the Realm. Baelor sat Rhaella straighter on his knees for her to reach the grapes that sat near her father's plate, taking a fist of them. She leaned back against his chest and offered him an open palm. Her father pressed a kiss of gratitude on her temple and took one grape.

Baelor looked on Rhaenyra's side of the table, eyes landing on Lucerys who shrunk under his uncle's gaze to a size of a small mouse. The words I shall have your eye felt like a curse in his mind. He wondered if his uncle still wants to cut out his eye for what he did to Aemond in their youth. For some reason, Baelor didn't tear his eyes from that side of the table. He couldn't look at his mother or grandsire. He didn't dare looking at Genna on his side, eyes watered, biting her tongue so harshly that blood spilled.

Helaena pushed a plate of strawberries pass Aegon and in Genna's eyesight. She remembered a conversation in the first few weeks of Genna's marriage to Baelor when the two sat inside the garden and she'd tell the princess she'll miss the strawberries from home. Genna offered Helaena a tight smile; at least she hoped it came out as some sort of smile. The princess beamed back with a smile before she focused back on the bug in her hands.

Alyssa pushed herself off her chair once more and skipped her way around the table and between her grandparents. She sneaked under Viserys' arm that he held around a cane, smiling up at him. The king let out a shaky breath of pain before Alicent gently tugged her granddaughter away from her grandfather and closer to her instead. She let Alyssa sit on her lap and play with streaks of hair that fell from her pinned up hair.

The dinner remained as a blur to Baelor until Jacaerys went to ask Helaena for a dance. The twins followed the two to the free space behind their seats, before sharing a look between them and Aemond. Baelor shook his head slightly, warning both his brothers to not do anything stupid.

But even Baelor can't take his own advice when Jacaerys returned with Helaena and offered his hand to Genna. She looked up at him with bright eyes, still wet by the tears that never fell. Baelor looked up at his nephew and hissed quietly, "touch her and I shall have your hand."

Before Jacaerys could reply, his uncle continued in a low voice, "but that should be hard, no? I heard you have some... strong flesh that keeps your hand in place."

"I dare you to say that again," Jacaerys replied and Genna shrunken when everyone looked at the scene.

"Why?" Baelor looked at him with a tilted head, daring him to do something while he held his daughter on his lap, "it was only a compliment," he placed Rhaella on Genna's knees and stepped closer to his nephew, "do you not think yourself of a strong man?"

Jacaerys' fist met Baelor's jaw, the skin on his knuckles breaking apart. Both Rhaenyra and Alicent yelled out for their sons. Aegon, despite being few cups in alcohol, defended his brother no matter what. When Lucerys stood to assist his older brother, Aegon grabbed his collar and pushed his face onto the wooden table, hissing, "try to touch my brother, bastard."

Baelor laughed when he wiped the blood off his cracked open lip and his mother dragged him away for a few steps. Sarcasm dripped from his tongue like venom drips from a snake's, "what a great king you shall be, Jacaerys Velaryon. I wonder if you'll punch everyone who thinks differently of you."

It was only then when Jacaerys realized that it was what Baelor wanted all along: for the king to see him getting riled up by simple words, that he'll see the heir to the throne after his mother treating his family like this just after his speech of fixing broken family bonds. Viserys rested his forehead against his hand and his wife called for the Maester, requesting him to be brought to his chambers. By then, Genna already stood amiss the chaos, gentle fingers tracing across the cut lip with a white napkin. Baelor still couldn't look in her eyes. Nor could he look at his daughters that were tugged aside by Aemond.

His father was taken away by the guards and his mother rushed after him. He often wondered how much she knew of his and grandsire's doings. If she was glad to hear about it. Alyssa tore herself from where she held herself closely to Aemond's leather covered leg and rushed to her father's side, tiny fingers clenching around his pants, urging him to pick her up. Baelor, naturally, bend down and took the older of the twins on his hip. She buried her head on the side of his neck, eyes turned to where her mother held the napkin as she muttered, "when I have a dragon I will burn them."

Baelor couldn't tell if he was proud or sick over her statement.