Baelon stood in the Sept of Remembrance, his fists clenched at his sides as he stood between the bodies of his grandfather and his brother. A week ago Baelon was the heir to nothing, set to be the simple Lord of a keep he'd never visit due to his eventual duties as Hand of the King. Yet now he was set to be heir to the Iron Throne and King Regent in his father's name.

Maekar was in a coma, the Grand Maester and his Kingsguard managing to save him before he succumbed to the wound. Baelon's siblings, Rhaegar and Moira arrived in the capital yesterday with Aegon's wife and children, and Baelon's own child, Viserys.

The funeral for Baelon's grandfather, Viserys and his brother, Aegon were set to take place in three days, with hope in that time that Maekar would awake from his coma to lead the ceremony.

Alicent, Baelon's mother, was beside herself in grief. Her children and grandchildren hadn't seen her in days. Alicent had locked herself in the chambers she used before her marriage. She simply couldn't face seeing her husband in a coma or her eldest child's dead body at the moment.

"Your brother is dead, and your father lays mortally wounded," Ser Otto announced his presence. He came and stood next to his second eldest grandchild. He wouldn't lie and say he was close to them. But he loved them all. They were his blood. "Do you know what that means?" Baelon knew the answer, but he knew speaking it would make the situation more true. "I'm not trying to trick you."

"I know that, I just wish not to think of it," Baelon said softly, holding his brother's hand.

Baelon's mind drifted back to a time when the weight of responsibility hadn't yet settled upon his shoulders, and the world seemed full of endless possibilities. He remembered the days when he and Aegon would spend hours playing in the courtyard the Red Keep, their wooden swords clashing in mock battles.

The memory was vivid, as though it had just happened yesterday. The sun bathed the courtyard in a warm glow, casting playful shadows upon the ground. Baelon and Aegon, both young and full of energy, were dressed in miniature versions of their father's armor. Their laughter echoed through the air as they swung their wooden swords with wild abandon.

Aegon, always the more daring of the two, would charge at Baelon with a mischievous grin, his eyes sparkling with excitement. Baelon would match his brother's enthusiasm, their swords meeting in a flurry of clinks and thwacks. They would dance around each other, their movements a blend of youthful exuberance and skill that seemed far beyond their years.

In those moments, their cares and worries melted away, replaced by the sheer joy of camaraderie and adventure. They were not heirs to a great dynasty or future rulers of a kingdom. They were simply two brothers, bound by a deep bond of love and shared experiences.

As the day would draw to a close, their faces flushed and their bodies covered in sweat, Baelon and Aegon would collapse onto the grass, their laughter filling the air. They would talk animatedly about their exploits, their imaginations running wild with tales of heroic deeds and daring escapades.

But amidst the laughter and play, there was always an unspoken understanding between them. They knew that their paths were destined for different roles, that one day they would have to shoulder the weight of their family's legacy. Yet, in those fleeting moments, they could forget about the future and revel in the innocence of their shared childhood.

As Baelon's gaze returned to the present, a bittersweet smile tugged at his lips. That memory was a treasure, a reminder of the bond he had shared with Aegon. Though his brother was now gone, his spirit lived on in Baelon's heart, giving him the strength to carry on and fulfill the responsibilities that now lay before him.

"It means I'll become King Regent and one day I'll be the King," Baelon spoke up after a moments silence.

"Yes, you will become King," Ser Otto nodded, patting his grandson's shoulder. "What kind of King do you think you will be?"

"A good King, just and filled with strength," said Baelon, looking up at his grandfather.

"I think so as well; you have the right temperament for it," Ser Otto nodded. "But remember, your father, King Maekar, is strong; he won the rebellion and crushed the Triarchy and forged an alliance with Dorne," Otto walked around so he stood face to face with Baelon, the Hand of the King pin gleaming as the sun reflected off of it.

"And your father attended all the Small Council meetings from the age of four until he ran away, and then when he returned he went to war six months later and then ten years later he resigned and became a family man at Dragonstone," Otto tried to make his grandson see reason. "I would never talk ill about your father, Baelon. He is the son I wish I had in my boys, yet and he tried to see the best in traitors and it got your brother killed. What does he lack?"

"Wisdom?"

"Yes!" Otto patted his shoulder proudly. "But what is wisdom? A house with great wealth and fertile lands asks you for your protection against another house with a strong navy that could one day oppose you. How do you know which choice is wise and which is not? Any experience of treasuries and granaries? Or shipyards and soldiers?"

Baelon pondered for a moment, his brow furrowing as he considered his grandfather's question. He knew that wisdom was more than just knowledge or intelligence. It required the ability to make sound judgments and decisions, especially in complex and uncertain situations.

"Wisdom is the ability to see beyond the immediate, to understand the consequences of our actions and the potential outcomes," Baelon replied, his voice filled with conviction. "It is the willingness to listen to different perspectives, to seek counsel from those who have expertise in the areas we lack. It is the humility to admit when we don't have all the answers and the courage to learn from our mistakes."

Otto's eyes lit up with a mixture of surprise and admiration. He hadn't expected such a thoughtful and insightful response from his grandson. It was clear that Baelon possessed a keen intellect and a depth of understanding beyond his years.

"You have a sharp mind, Baelon," Otto said, a hint of pride in his voice. "Wisdom is a rare and valuable trait, one that will serve you well in your role as King. But remember, wisdom is not something that can be acquired overnight. It is a lifelong pursuit, a constant journey of learning and growth."

Baelon nodded, absorbing his grandfather's words. He knew that he had much to learn and experience, but he was determined to develop his wisdom and lead with integrity and fairness.

Their conversation shifted, and Otto expressed his concerns about Alicent, who had secluded herself in her chambers since Aegon's death and Maekar's coma. The weight of grief and worry seemed to be overwhelming her, and Otto worried about her well-being.

"I'm deeply concerned about your mother, Baelon," Otto said, his tone filled with genuine worry. "She hasn't left her chambers in days. She needs our support and love now more than ever."

Baelon's expression softened, concern evident in his eyes. He had noticed his mother's absence and understood the pain she must be experiencing. Alicent had always been a pillar of strength for their family, and seeing her in such a vulnerable state was difficult for him.

"I will speak with her, grandfather," Baelon replied, determination lacing his voice. "I will try to reach her, to offer her comfort and remind her that she is not alone. We are here for her, just as she has always been there for us."

Otto nodded, grateful for Baelon's willingness to help. He knew that Baelon had a special bond with his mother, and his presence and words might be the key to bringing her out of her grief-stricken isolation.

"Thank you, Baelon," Otto said, his voice filled with gratitude. "Your strength and compassion will make a difference. Remember, we are a family, and in times like these, we must lean on each other for support."

Together, Baelon and Otto walked out of the Sept, their steps filled with purpose and hope.

"What news can you bring of Rhaenyra?" Baelon asked as they got atop of their horses and began riding back in the direction of the Red Keep.

"Your Aunt has been gathering her own allies," Otto spoke, his voice laced with venom as the common people bowed their heads to them out of respect. "She thinks we're weak and intends to take the throne by force. The Riverlands, the Vale and the Iron Islands have sworn loyalty to her."

"She is outnumbered and scared then," Baelon said more to himself. He wanted revenge for how she tore his family apart. "Have we received word from the Baratheon's yet?"

"Not yet, Your Grace," Otto shook his head. "We will discuss the matter at the Small Council later tonight."