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Baela Targaryen grew up hearing one phrase.
“You’re just like your father.”
It took her a while to understand that some (most) didn’t mean it as a compliment. Her father wasn’t an easy person to like. He was an easy person to dislike. As a child she never understood that. As a child, her father was everything to her. Rhaena was her mother’s daughter but Baela Targaryen was a Targaryen and she was all Daemon Targaryen’s daughter. With her wild attitude, snark, arrogance and her love for what made them Targaryens.
People could say a lot of things about Daemon Targaryen. Most were terrible things talking about how ruthless and heartless he was. However, no one could deny the absolute loyalty Daemon had for his family. And though he may not act like how a typical father acted, Baela always knew her father loved her and Rhaena.
Her father would always take her up on his dragon. She would be more on Caraxes with her father than she’d be on the ground. She would exclaim about how one day she’d race with him on her own dragon once it was old enough to carry her while her father would smile at her fondly.
But her favorite thing to do was listen to him tell her and Rhaena stories about their ancestors. About the Targaryens. The vast empire of Valyria. The dragon lords of Valyria.
And her favorite; The conquest of Westeros by Aegon and his sisters.
It was the Targaryen queens in the story she loved. She loved Visenya. Visenya, the warrior Queen, with Dark Sister in her hand, the same sword her father held in his, on top of Vhagar conquering Westeros for her brother.
Growing up, Baela wanted to be just like Visenya. And really who could blame her? She saw her father wield Dark Sister. She saw her mother ride Vhagar and on some days, Laena would snatch Dark Sister from her father. Her father would smile and correct her stance and all Baela could think was this is what she wanted.
She wanted to be like Visenya, who was more of a warrior. Her mother, who claimed the largest dragon at such a young age. She wanted to be like them. Fierce and ride her dragon off to battle. She wanted to be strong like them.
It never crossed her mind that if Visenya existed then so did Rhaenys.
The beautiful Rhaenys, Aegon’s most loved, who loved music and dance, who may not have been as fierce of a warrior like her elder siblings but she was cunning and smart.
Visenya, Aegon had married for duty, but Rhaenys he married out of love. It was said that for every night Aegon would spend with Visenya he’d spend ten more with his Rhaenys.
And Baela never thought about that because her parents loved each other. They did love each other. Her father would make her mother smile. They’d laugh together. They’d hold hands. Sometimes she saw them kiss and she would make a retching noise and they’d laugh at her.
And then her mother was gone, birthing a child that wouldn’t live and they were onboard a ship to a place they’ve never been before surrounded by people who looked at them with pity.
She hated it.
Her mother was gone. She died a dragon rider’s death. She didn’t say goodbye.
Then they lost Vhagar. Stolen from them by that god awful boy.
Then their uncle died and it got worse.
They boarded a ship. A ship back home she thought.
Only it wasn’t the home she expected.
She remembers stories about Dragonstone. She read all about it and heard it so many times from her father. The place where the Targaryens moved to from Valyria after Daenys the Dreamer warned her family of the upcoming catastrophe that Valyria would suffer.
It was their new home when the Doom took Valyria from them.
Laena’s death was their Doom and Pentos was now Old Valyria to them.
Baela and Rhaena were now like their Targaryen ancestors. Forced to call this dreary place their new home.
She watched as her father married someone else just mere a few days after the death of her mother. She, her sister and her new step siblings watched in absolute shock and numbness as their parents kissed each other and took their vows in the old ways. In the Valyrian way that she knew mattered more to her father than any vow taken under the eyes of the Seven.
She hated it.
She wanted to scream and cry. She lost her mother. She lost Vhagar. She lost her uncle, even though she barely knew him.
Was she doomed to lose her father too?
She wanted to run up to him and scream at him.
How could he do this? Didn’t he love Laena? Wasn’t she the love of his life?
Then why did he look at the Princess like that?
Why did he look at her as if she was the sun and even though it hurt to look at her, he couldn’t stop looking at her. As if not being with her is more painful than anything else in the world. As if one smile from her and suddenly Daemon Targaryen is smiling in a way she has never seen him smile before.
He never looked at her mother like that.
He never looked like that in Pentos either. Here, Daemon Targaryen moved with a sort of lightness that she has never seen before. Here he didn’t stay locked up in the library for hours. Here he talked with people beyond the one lined sarcastic reply he usually had for people in Pentos.
Hee, he smiled more.
Rhaena had asked her to let it go. Told her that everyone had their own way of dealing with their grief and that their father was happy. That was enough.
That wasn’t enough for Baela.
Was she the only one who’d be left alone in her grief? In her anger?
Her father and the princess (she refused to call her stepmother. She would never call her anything that had the word ‘mother’ in it) were happy. The prince, Jacaerys, was dutiful. Too dutiful and perhaps too used to pretending some lies were truth and some truth were lies. The other prince, Lucerys, was too young to understand anything. Or maybe he did but he refused to accept it. Probably finding ways to change things.
Rhaena, her sister, was drowning in her own grief. They shared the same loss and yet they were two different people. Twins who shared wombs and cradles and everything. Yet their way of how they dealt with their grief was too different.
And Baela… she was too angry.
“You’re just like your father.”
Her mother used to say it fondly. Her grandmother says it warily.
She was her father’s daughter and she dealt with grief with anger. Anger as hot as dragon fire that threatened to consume her the way the doom consumed Valyria.
So she shunned everyone in anger. She turned away from her sister, who tried to help her even as she shed her own tears every night in the dark. She turned from the two new boys, who were trying to be helpful and show her around. She turned away from her father, avoiding him, snapping her refusals whenever he asked if she would like to go take a ride on Caraxes.
But her most horrible anger was for the princess. This woman came in and took the place of her mother. Of her father’s wife. Who seems to be everything her father ever wanted and her mother, Laena, was a cheap imitation of what Daemon could never have.
She’d avoid her. She would turn the other way whenever she’d see the princess. She would glare at her in reply to everything she asked.
“Be nice to her Baela. She lost someone too.”
She didn't bother asking her sister who that someone was. Was it her husband, who the princess and her father likely murdered so they could marry or was it the lover she had, who clearly sired her children.
But even Baela wasn’t that cruel.
Even if she wished she could be. How does she deal with all this anger in her? How can she look at them, at this new family, and not want to claw it all off? How can she stop wishing ill of her father and the princess?
How can she smile again?
At night, when Rhaena would silently cry, Baela would crawl out of the bed and sneak out of the room. On most nights she would just make her way to the balcony near her room and stare at the sea. She’d stay there for hours watching the sea.
On some nights, she’d make her way to the caves where she knows Moondancer rests. She’d spend the night beside her dragon and make her way back when the horizon would lighten. Before her father and the princes would make their way to practice with their swords.
Today was one of those nights where she wanted to be by Moondancer’s side.
She expected to be alone.
Only she wasn’t. She sees someone standing near the area where Moondancer rests. At first, she thought it was Prince Jacaerys. Then she sees the figure’s silver hair and thinks it might be her father.
Only she realises it’s not her father when the figure turns and sees it’s the Princess.
She scowls as she stops.
The one place she felt at peace would now be taken from her.
Rhaenyra and Baela stare at each other for a few minutes before the Princess smiles at her.
She hates when she smiles. It’s pretty. Too pretty. She can see why she was called the Realm’s Delight. Why even her mother had nothing but praise for the woman who had her husband’s heart while Laena was left with a few crumbs.
Why her father looked at her with awe.
“Baela.” she greets.
“Princess.” Baela bites out.
She sees the smile waver.
“Can’t sleep?”
Baela doesn’t reply. She was prepared to leave.
“Your mother was meant to marry my father, did you know?”
Baela pauses. She looks back to see the princess was now looking at the ocean.
She did not know that.
“After my mother… The council insisted my father marry again so that he may have more children. I was never enough.” When she turns to look at Baela she sees the princess smile. It was different from her usual ones. A wry smile. Pained. “Do you know how my mother died?”
Baela shook her head. Her father never spoke about it. He only ever praised the old Queen. Stories of their youth and happier days but never the incident that led to her death.
“Childbirth. She died birthing my brother.”
Oh.
That… that was….
“A son was always what my father wanted. He chose the son over my mother. My mother bled out. Everyone always talked about the love King Viserys had for his Queen Aemma. Yet he didn’t love her more than a son. Laena was luckier. She was loved by someone who chose her over an unborn child.”
“And yet he married you not even a week after my mother died.” She spat. “Did he even love her?
Rhaenyra smiled and walked towards her. She kneeled when she was close to her.
“You think he didn’t love your mother?”
“He… he smiles with you! He didn’t…he doesn’t… he looks at you… He didn’t even wait before he…. How can you say he loves her?” Baela shouted. “It’s as if mother is Visenya and you’re Rhaenys. He may have married her but he loves you.”
Rhaenyra’s face changes. As if she pities her.
She hates it even more.
“Don’t look at me like that!” She sobs. “It’s true! He only loves you! He’s forgotten her! And he wants us-”
“Your mother’s favorite flowers were sunflowers. Suitable for Pentos’ that has a lot of sun but not so much for Dragonstone. I don’t know if they would grow here but your father’s been determined to see them here. He told me how they would race all the time and he’d take you on Caraxes while Laena would take Rhaena. He told me how your mother loved the music and dances at all the parties hosted in Pentos.”
Baela sobbed. She was shaking as she cried listening to the princess talk about her mother. Talk about things her father said to her. Her father would gift sunflowers to her mother. He had paid to have a garden full of sunflowers for her mother and she’d see them walk through it, holding hands. Her mother would dance at the balls they’d be invited to and even would succeed dragging her father to twirl her around.
“He loved her. No, he loves her. Your mother brought him peace. Daemon Targaryen was not a peaceful person. He was erratic. Always jumping from one place to another. He stayed in Pentos for years for your mother. He loved her. Your mother isn’t Visenya and I’m not Rhaenys.”
Rhaenyra gently wiped away the tears on Baela’s face. She was so gentle. So kind. Baela wanted to scream at her again. She wanted to scream and cry and hit something.
She wanted her mother.
“Your father may have loved me but he loved your mother too. No one can ever change that. Daemon Targaryen loves Laena Velaryon. That is a fact. Just like he loves you and Rhaena. Even now. He misses her but he has you. Your mother lives with you. As long as you’re here she’s never gone.’
And then the princess hugs her.
Baela holds on to her as she screams for her mother. As she screams for the life she had before it was burnt away by Vhagar’s flames and then the ashes scattered away before she even had the chance to say goodbye.
Baela didn’t know how long she stayed there crying in the arms of Rhaenyra.
All she knew was that one moment she was crying and the next moment she was waking up alone in her room, the sun shining.
Baela slowly makes her way to the mirror.
Her eyes look swollen.
Her hair is a mess.
There’s tear marks on her face.
Baela’s face lacks the anger she’s seen in all these weeks of being on Dragonstone.
When she makes her way to have breakfast she sees her sister look up at her. The others carry on with their conversation which pauses when she sits down.
They all stare at her.
She looks at her father.
“Can we go on Caraxes later?
If her father was surprised it didn’t show on his face.
“After your lessons.”
Baela nodded and reached for the toast.
She goes on Caraxes later. She doesn’t speak with her father. She doesn’t hug him or kiss him on his cheeks like she did before.
But she feels lighter than before. The weight isn’t gone. The anger hasn’t fully dissipated.
But now she sees her father and her stepmother smile and she doesn’t feel the urge to claw their faces off. She accepts Jace and Luke’s offer to see Dragonstone. She sneaks into Rhaena’s bed at night and holds her.
Her grief and anger won’t go away.
But maybe, just maybe, she’ll find a way to live with it.