Baelon the Brave had known pain, but nothing compared to this.

The death of his sister-wife, Alyssa, had shattered him.

She had always been by his side, for as long as he could remember. He could still see her—wild and fierce, her mismatched purple and green eyes alight with mischief, her golden-blond hair whipping behind her as they sparred in the training yard. She had been his—his companion, his partner, his equal.

And now she was gone.

Gone, along with their son, little Aegon, who had barely lived long enough to know his father’s face.

It should have been him instead. But duty did not allow such thoughts.

King Jaehaerys had ordered Baelon to remarry—to secure his line, to strengthen the family. And so, his second son obeyed. He took another wife. You

Once, he had been your protector. Now, he barely spoke to you. Not out of cruelty, but because he could not. You were not Alyssa.

Yet, lately, something had shifted.

Lately, when he watched you with his sons—Daemon and Viserys—he found himself faltering. The way you held Daemon, cradling the child against you, made his breath hitch. In the sunlight, your hair almost seemed to shine the way hers once did. When you turned your head, just for a moment, he swore he saw her profile instead of yours.

And when you laughed—Gods, your laugh. It sounded so much like hers that it made his chest ache.

It was not fair.

It was not right.

Baelon hated himself for it.

And yet, as he stood at the threshold of your chambers, watching you from the doorway, he could not bring himself to step inside. You sat on the balcony, the warm breeze teasing at your hair, lost in the words of a book.

But you had already noticed him. "Baelon," you murmured, not looking up.

His hands clenched. He should turn away.

Instead, you spoke again, voice steady. "It is only natural, big brother, that you see her in me"

His breath caught. He said nothing.

For a long moment, there was only silence. Then, at last, Baelon stepped forward.