Silence permeated the great hall.
Everybody's eyes turned to the entrance where Ser Joe Mary had announced the arrival of the crown prince.
Their eyes stared at the great door hanging from the floor, stuck in place. They gulped their saliva as sweat rolled down their brows.
Slowly, a pale figure entered the room, its skin reminiscent of the moon's reflection, almost shimmering at times like diamonds in the sky.
With each step that he took, the intensity in the room increased dramatically. One could see the minds of the lords from everywhere in the realm working on their strategy.
They gave small glances to their daughters and wives, hoping they could understand the sentiment.
However, to their surprise… most already had their jaws wide open and their lips smacking.
The man that had come into their view was tall, his entire body carved with beautiful muscles ingrained into his skin… it was almost as if God himself had sculpted him in his own image.
A white, simple robe-like garment adorned his body without a single jewel but one.
One… that he wore upon his ring finger. It was a beautiful ruby, red and luscious, glinting in the light with a soft hue and bright when the shadows crept over it.
They reflected the man's eyes… the color of blood.. as the person in question stared at the room with a cold smile, amusement flickering within them.
Behind him trudged elegantly, Laena Velaryon… not as a shadow, but as a storm that was held in check.
Her silver hair flowed like silk drenched in moonlight, cascading over shoulders draped in sea-blue and obsidian silk, a nod to her Valyrian blood and her Velaryon tide.
She moved with a grace that came not from court but from power and authority. From the amalgamation of Fire and Water.
Her eyes did not scan the crowd… she had no need. They remained solely on Baelon's back. Not in submission, nor in longing, but a bond between them forged in a vow of blood.
Whispers crept through the hall as the duo passed, muffling about the strongest marriage alliance the realm had ever seen in ages to come.
When Baelon stopped, she stood just behind his right shoulder, close enough to be felt, far enough to remain unclaimed to others but a breath of certainty within his dominating dragon presence.
Baelon's gaze turned toward his father, and the entire room seemed to vanish for a moment as the duo locked their eyes.
Baelon's smile deepened into a smirk as Viserys's lips curled. He raised his chalice in his direction, acknowledging his son's aura, and took a sip to it.
The Vampire Prince walked forward. He could feel the thousand gazes weighing on his back, his visage, his body, his eyes… all of them trying to strip him bare, violate him into nakedness, and try to peer into his skull, study all of his thoughts and secrets…
…But honestly, Baelon did not care.
He basked in the attention as his shadow loomed behind him, contrasting with the flickering candle flames of the hall.
"Father."
The Vampire Prince kneeled.
Viserys kept his chalice to the side, handed it over to the servant beside him. He took a woozy step forward.
The crippled man clutched the returned Blackfyre that lay in a sheath near his makeshift throne. He glanced at his son below and began descending the platform, walking a few steps toward Baelon.
The nobles, servants, and every other member of the hall stared at their king walking with huge difficulty… his face a monstrosity between man and death, their king barely managing to take a half-step before limping slightly.
This was Viserys Targaryen.
The King.
And he was walking toward his dearest son.
The once sickly prince.
Now the crown of the realm.
The Vampire Prince.
Baelon Targaryen.
The crowd took a breath, not daring to breathe aloud as they painted the scene into their skulls, burning it into their memory.
Viserys stopped. He was standing barely a foot away from Baelon. His gruff voice sounded across the silent world, creaking with weakness, but the underlying strength within it spoke volumes.
"…I was going to wait until the official ceremony… however, it seems that I have become impatient with time. My son, I am immensely proud of you."
Viserys raised the sword in his hand as an unnatural high-pitched sound woozed out of it… ringing loudly as the blade neared the crown prince.
Viserys held the ancestral weapon and anointed it on either side of Baelon's shoulder with careful grace.
"Rise, Ser Baelon Targaryen. Heir to the realm, Prince of Dragonstone, King of the Stepstones, Conqueror of Dorne, Warrior of the Throne, Protector of the People. I hereby declare you the Dragon Knight and confer to you the title, The One Who Is the Brightest- a second name that I shall grant to you… starborne amidst the ashes, Ānogrosesys. Make me proud, my son… Baelon Ānogrosesys Viserys Targaryen. You are the honour of the realm. The brightest star of Westeros."
Baelon slowly turned his head upward, staring at his father's face that was filled with love, and the prince smiled as he slowly rose.
"Father…." Baelon's lips pursed, a lot of emotions whirled in his eyes… as he removed a crown from the slew of his robe.
Everything until now felt like a dream to him, this string of good luck was absolutely unimaginable.
His fate was to die…. sick in his bed!
Baelon's entire life, he remained in one corner of the room, unable to escape his it and unable to to escape his thoughts.
Try to earn his father's admiration or love? Try to earn the people's admiration? Try to act as a true prince? Try to act as a real heir to the crown?
All of that was but imagination.
Yet today, he stood straight… without ailment, declared as the dragon knight and gazing into his father's eyes that looked back at him with love and warmth.
'Thankyou… God, fate, world…. Thankyou for curing me… Thankyou for turning me into what you made me…'
His dainty fingers trembled as he slowly placed it upon his father's head.
"They call me the King of Stepstones and Conqueror of Dorne. They made this crown for me in the meanwhile to govern it… though you gave me permission to hold these titles… no matter what they say… while I remain the Crown Prince, you are my liege… and because you are my king… I declare you the King of Westeros, the Stepstones, Dorne… The First Men and… the Rhoynar."
Viserys chuckled aloud, graciously accepting Baelon's gift. His laughter boomed across the halls of the room. He wiped his teary eyes and beamed a smile at his son.
While Baelon was already pleasing to the eyes and his favourite son, his action justified the sentiment and set the position in throne.
Baelon was probably his most favourite person across all of his life yet.
Viserys's gaze was very soft as he looked up to his son, who was taller than him. He smiled as he admired his features.
'Aemma would be proud too.'
Despite all of Viserys's ailments, years of suffering… years of being betrayed by people in his time as a king, years of pain, years of downing it all in misery and years of bliss, years of happiness… through all of them...
The King would say that today was the happiest day in his life ever…