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“I would wring the necks of every one of those craven Blackwoods if I had the chance. Them and their fake queen.”
Porridge spilled over Gully’s chin during his exclamation, making his threats a lot less impactful than they might have been. Aeron sighed into his own breakfast, ignoring his friend, though he was no less frustrated.
About a fortnight ago he had been made a knight, something he would be the first to admit was undeserved, and which his friends teased him for endlessly. It was nonetheless a large responsibility to bear after his father’s death. He was so far removed from the son he should have been by now. It shamed him to be called ‘Ser’ when he could barely defeat his younger siblings on the training ground.
On top of that his uncle had recently declared for Aegon, once again poking the never quite sleeping beast that was the feud between the Brackens and Blackwoods, who had declared for Rhaenyra the pretender weeks before. As if tensions weren’t already high enough with the ongoing war, this was like a roaring fire fanned from both sides.
For as long as he could remember Aeron had despised the Blackwoods, sneaky, boastful, brainless bastards, and now he spent every day cleaning up the messes they made on Bracken estate. Aeron held some authority among Brackens with his uncle being head of his house, so he was often dispatched to deal with these minor disputes, which was a headache to say the least. Today as well he’d been ordered to take damages at an inn, which had been raided and burned by Blackwoods the night before.
Having given up on eating, he pushed himself away from the long wooden table and stood up. “Finish up and follow me, let’s see what this inn-business is all about.”
Gully startled and started shoving spoons full into his mouth even faster. Aeron would’ve laughed at the sight if he wasn’t in such a foul mood. He didn’t like ordering his friends around, but lately more and more people started expecting it of him, as if being named a knight automatically made him more fit to lead.
~
The inn was on Bracken ground but close to the border, which was probably why it had been targeted by the Blackwoods. They walked a while before reaching the tiny village. It seemed deserted despite the bright midday hour. Aeron was still trying to locate the inn when a voice from behind made him startle.
“If it isn’t little Aeron Bracken. Have you become a man yet or do you still look like a girl?”
His family name sounded like a slur in Davos Blackwood’s voice. Aeron recognized its sound without having to turn around. When he did, he saw Davos standing a few meters away, hand on his sword pommel and sneer on his face. He looked almost casual, despite currently invading enemy grounds.
“Blackwood.”
Aeron’s reply rang more like disgust than a real greeting. He knew Davos Blackwood, but most of that knowledge came from his infamy among the Brackens. He was a pest, even for Blackwood standards.
Aeron had met him a few times, at official events in times when the two houses feigned peace, though he had made a game of avoiding him whenever he could. He wasn’t sure why, but something about Davos specifically made him feel antsy, and he wasn’t keen on finding out the reason. When the house rivalry heated up again it wasn’t often that Davos Blackwood wasn’t at the scene of trouble.
Davos’ eyes grew wide when they fell on Aeron’s cloak, and the clasp that held it together.
“They made you a knight?” He laughed then, short and mean.
“Your family is even more braindead than I gave them credit for. Tell me, can you tell the sharp end of your sword from the other or do they give you a wooden stick for fighting?”
A bolt of emotion shot through Aeron, and he could tell his cheeks and ears were reddening. He knew Davos was right, he truly was an awful fighter, but he wasn’t gonna give a Blackwood the satisfaction of shaming him on his own grounds. He forced himself to keep his composure. Before he could speak Gully piped up beside him.
“How dare you talk to us like that! Do all Blackwood’s spew cowshit out of their mouths or is it just you?”
Davos turned to Gully, unimpressed. Aeron cut in after him before a real fight would break out.
“You’re not supposed to be here. Go back to your own lands.” At that, Davos looked back at him. Aeron’s stomach made a small lurch when their eyes met. Hatred, he surmised.
It was clear that the Blackwood boy had some quip or insult lined up, but at that moment their attention was caught by movement to the east, near the forest edge.
Riders, Aeron thought, at least two, wearing neither Bracken or Blackwood colours, nor farmer’s garb. Bandits? Tullys? Whatever they were, they were way too close for comfort. He pulled his sword, clumsily. Fuck.
“Gully,” he whispered, “go get help. at least five men. Be quick.”
The other boy looked more confused than scared, having not fully realised the threat yet, but replied anyway.
“Right away Ser Aeron.” Aeron cringed.
He jumped when he heard Davos laugh behind him. He had expected him to have slipped away to avoid punishment for trespassing. Maybe he was just too dumb to realise the opportunity. Aeron glanced back to the trees where the riders seemed to have paused, pointing in another direction and talking.
“You don’t pose quite the danger you think you do. I can see you trembling from here.”
Aeron wanted to sew the Blackwood’s mouth shut and put a knife through his heart. He turned towards Davos, who was standing closer now, and spoke in a voice much quieter.
“Shut your fucking mouth and leave. You’re drawing attention to us.”
Davos raised both his eyebrows and made no sign to listen.
“Why would I care about some intruders on Bracken land? I should go to them and join arms, we seem to have similar goals in life.”
A sound behind them made Aeron’s head whip back around to the forest. The riders still hadn’t moved but one of them was looking in their direction now, no doubt drawn by Davos’ voice. Aeron panicked. They were on horseback while he was on foot, and he was too useless to defeat one man, let alone two. Gully wouldn’t be back for at least twenty minutes. If Davos truly joined them against him he’d be killed in an instant. He swung his gaze to the village, locating the nearest house, abandoned with its roof half caved in.
In one quick move he slammed his sword back in its hilt, grabbed Davos' arm and swung on his heels, dragging the boy behind him while making for the village. The gesture caught Davos off guard, and Aeron knew that if it wasn’t for his speed he would have been overpowered by the blackwood, who was physically stronger than him by all accounts.
They were turning the corner of the house when he heard the trod of horses from the direction they had just come from. Davos made to move out into the open, so Aeron took a step forward and slammed him into the stone support column of the rundown shed.
Davos raised his arm to shove him aside but Aeron pushed his own body closer and put all his strength into pinning the black haired boy to the wall. The moment Davos opened his mouth he shoved his gloved hand against it to stop him from making noise. The other hand clamped Davos’ wrists together between their chests, his cloak getting caught as well in the haste. He was breathing heavily now.
His hair was in his face and he attempted to shake it out of his eyes while he took a peek around the corner. The riders were standing less than 10 meters away from them, conversing softly. Aeron promised himself that if they caught them hiding here he would unsheathe his sword, but not before hitting Davos on the head with the pommel. He hoped it would be enough to render the Blackwood unconscious before he attempted to take on the riders. This was truly turning out to be an awful day.
When his gaze switched back, Davos was looking at him. Aeron’s breath caught oddly.
He noted uselessly that Davos’ eyes were lighter than he had expected. In them shone annoyance and anger, mixed with something else. He could feel the bones of his knees and hips press into him, nearly to the point of pain, and with every breath Aeron’s chest pushed into Davos’ joint hands.
Aeron lost focus for a moment and blinked, suddenly feeling lightheaded. At the same time a noise from the road alerted him that the riders were moving again, away from the village. Davos had heard it too, and bit down viciously on Aeron’s fingers, who groaned in pain despite the leather glove. Davos took advantage of the surprise to rip his hands free and shove hard at Aeron’s chest, making him stumble backwards.
He didn’t run away immediately. They stood standing and staring at each other for a time, out of breath, Aeron cradling his right hand in the other.
“Next time I see you you’re dead, Bracken.”
Davos’ voice was hard but a bit more unsure than usual, taking off the sharp edge of the threat.
“Sure. As long as you never set foot near this place again.”
Aeron let go of his bitten hand to straighten his yellow jerkin and swat strands of hair out of his face. Davos’ eyes followed the movement.
Without another word the Blackwood turned and stomped away, towards the border.
Aeron finally caught his breath, and groaned inwardly at having to explain the situation to the group of Brackens currently on their way to him.
~
He gave them the general account upon their arrival, but when he told the story in depth to Gully at dinner the boy’s eyes widened.
“You managed to restrain Davos Blackwood?”
He leaned forward slightly as if telling a secret.
“When we got into a fight about that stupid cow last April even Lem couldn’t keep him down, and he’s at least a head taller. That Blackwood bastard is crazy strong when he gets angry, he’s a fucking maniac.”
Aeron paused between bites and stared into the pickled carrots on his plate.
“Maybe it just wasn’t his day.”
~
Just over a week later, Davos was chopping wood to add to their winter reserves. This was normally not his job, he was too highborn, but he needed to let out his frustrations on something and the boy he'd found at the woodblock was too scared not to listen when Davos sent him away.
He raised the axe above his head and let it come down hard. Gravity and the strength of his shoulders were behind the swing. He’d taken off his leather jerkin and rolled up the sleeves of his cotton shirt. The logs were a pale yellow colour, not too different from the Bracken sigil and tunics. Splitting the wood did not quite feel like stabbing flesh, but it was close enough.
Brackens had been turning up everywhere since the war between rulers had accelerated, slaughtering Blackwood cows and moving boundary stones. The carefully negotiated standstill between the two houses had crumbled, as it always did, and not a day went by without a skirmish at the border of the two lands. Davos himself had been active in these as well, getting away with what he could and beating up whomever got too close.
He thought back to the run-in with the wimpy Bracken boy the other day. He didn’t know why he hadn’t just stabbed him when he got the chance. He wouldn’t kill him, he was a Bracken and a knight besides, it would mean immediate war. Davos wouldn’t mind that, but he knew his father would, and they were walking a very wobbly political tightrope right now. He put a new piece of trunk on the chopping block.
A rustle caught his attention, and he stiffened, senses sharpened as he looked around. Movement in the brush increased as the sound of footsteps drew closer. A yellow shape grew larger, coming toward him. Bracken.
Davos gripped his axe tighter, straightening out of his hunched state. When the person came nearer he could make out long hair brushing shoulders, and a knight’s pin on the front of a Bracken tunic.
What the fuck. He almost laughed. This whole conflict would end very smoothly if all the Bracken lords delivered themselves on a silver platter like this one.
Aeron Bracken reached the little clearing and stopped dead in his tracks. Surprisingly, he seemed very confused to see a Blackwood, or maybe it was just Davos he hadn’t expected.
“Lost your way, Ser?”
Davos moved out of battle stance but still held on to the axe.
“I have a recent memory of you threatening me never to set foot near you again. I assumed you’d return the favour.”
Aeron opened his mouth but it took a second before words came out. He was wearing his sword belt but made no move to pull his weapon.
“I- I was looking for some missing crates. Apples. The tracks go through here so I thought- I didn’t know I’d passed the boundary stones.”
He seemed genuinely regretful that he’d stumbled over to the Blackwoods, no doubt sensing the mess this was gonna turn into. Davos wasn’t gonna let this opportunity pass. The Boy’s hair was mussed and there was a scratch on his cheek, probably from a low hanging branch.
“Ah yes, I do remember asking some of my servants if they would help me out with gathering some fruit for dinner. I never thought they would plunder our lovely neighbours’ orchards for them, I do apologise.”
He took a fake bow, his empty hand raised dramatically in the air.
The Bracken boy’s ears turned beet red. It made him look more vulnerable. Davos felt the urge to push further.
“If it pleases my Ser knight I am willing to engage in combat for this unforgivable theft, so that you may deliver justice upon my person.”
His tone was still mocking, but he moved a few steps closer to Aeron and gripped his axe again, waiting.
He saw the other boy calculate, eyes moving quickly from left to right. In the end he pulled his sword and took on a fighting stance. He looked unsteady already. Prideful idiots, Davos thought. Risking injury over some stupid apples. Nevertheless Davos’ blood sang, gladfully accepting the challenge. His leather jerkin was still lying next to the barn where they stored the wood and hay, but he didn’t think he’d need it.
To his credit the Bracken boy took a stab at him first, coming forward with a concentrated look on his face. Davos grinned. Is he planning to slice the air next to me? He easily parried the attempt with the handle of his axe, and pushed forward until Aeron’s sword arm flew sideways. The edge of Davos’ axe grazed Aeron at the junction of palm and wrist.
Aeron rebalanced, clearly panicked. Davos advanced on him, weapon in both hands and aiming for the Bracken’s chest. The boy seemed frozen in fear, and Davos started redirecting his hit so he wouldn’t actually kill him, when unexpectedly Aeron dropped on his ankles and sprung forward. He caught Davos around the knees, and within a split second he was slammed against the ground, the swing of his axe interrupted.
Dazed, he shook his head. Aeron wasn’t exactly straddling him, but still had Davos’ legs pinned to the ground with his body. He didn’t seem to know how to advance further. He was breathing shallowly and his hand shook where it was pushing down Davos’ chest to the dirt beneath them. Davos opened his mouth without thinking, sounding more out of breath that he should have been.
“You have good instincts once you stop overthinking. You’re fast. For a Bracken anyway.”
He tried to put venom into the last statement, but it didn’t come out quite right.
Aeron faltered for a second, taken aback by the compliment. When Davos tried to take advantage he was pushed down again, harder, Aeron’s face bowing closer to his as the boy put more weight on him. The scratch on his cheek stood out stark against his light skin, and blood was seeping from the wound on his hand onto Davos’ shirt. Red and darker red. Davos knew he could overthrow him, felt the tension in his muscles, but some strange force kept him pinned to the ground.
“I was told you were a maniac. I see now that you don’t live up to your reputation,”
Aeron quipped back after a beat of silence. He sounded a lot more confident than he had before. There was disdain, but also a hint of humour in his voice. His breath was warm on Davos’ face.
Davos scoffed. “I could throw you and kill you in a heartbeat, Bracken.”
“So do it,” Aeron flung back immediately.
Yes. Why aren’t I?
Davos sucked in a sharp breath. He meant to kick up his legs and push Aeron off of him. Instead, his eyes scanned Aeron's face, in search of something. They landed, for the briefest moment, on his lips. Immediately he looked away, but when they made eye contact again he knew Aeron had noticed. Something passed over the boy’s face.
The second time he tried, he actually started to raise his legs, but every muscle in his body froze when Aeron slammed his mouth into his.
It felt like another attack. Aeron’s hand left his shirt and moved to his face. Davos wanted to push him away, but his body betrayed him, and instead he raised his torso from the ground, one hand on the dirt for support and one grabbing at Aeron’s tunic.
He kissed him back, angrily. Aeron’s hand in his hair was too tight to feel nice. Davos pushed relentlessly, pressing his lips to Aeron’s again and again, tongue exploring. He didn’t dare open his eyes, and he didn’t dare think about what they looked like right now.
Aeron answered every move with his own, straddling him fully and pressing their chests together. His hands moved on Davos’ jaw and scalp, tilting his head back for better access. The leather of his gloves felt cool against his skin, but his tongue was warm in his mouth. A strand of long hair got caught between their lips, and Aeron impatiently yanked it away.
When Davos moved his hips slightly to adjust his position a gasp escaped Aeron into Davos’ mouth. It was the first noise either of them had made until then, and both of their eyes flew open, interrupting their kiss.
Aeron’s hair was even messier than before, his lips red. He looked at Davos with eyes wide, and his body tensed with uncertainty. Davos could feel his heartbeat through the linen and cotton between their chests.
In a single motion, Davos pushed himself up, Aeron falling softly to the ground. When he stood, the other boy was looking at him in confusion and fear, and a bit of frustration, palms flat on the earth behind him. His cloak hang crooked on his shoulders, his knights pin almost at his throat.
A second later Davos reached for his arm and pulled him up onto his feet.
“Whoa-“
Aeron started to exclaim, but he was dragged behind Davos with a fierce tug. He stumbled and would have fallen if not for the grip on his lower arm.
They walked a few steps until they reached the wooden door to the barn, and Davos kicked it open with his foot. Inside was the wood supply stacked against the walls, and a massive haystack expanding outward from the middle of the room.
Without a word he shoved Aeron onto the hay and followed down after him, reversing their positions from before. Aeron opened his mouth to speak but was silenced when Davos resumed their kiss. When he ran his tongue along his lips he tasted blood, and he realised Aeron’s wounded hand had left warm trails on his face and hair. Neither of them seemed to care.
Aeron gasped again when Davos moved down to his jaw and neck, his mouth more biting than kissing. He didn’t struggle when Davos’ hands ran under his tunic, and he lifted his arms when Davos hastily tried to pull it over his head.
~
Afterwards, Davos pushed himself from the ground and gathered his shirt and breeches. Aeron pulled himself together and caught his breath, and the two stared at each other for a moment, both apprehending and ready to shift into defence.
After a pause, Davos finished pulling on his pant leg and stepped outside to collect his axe. When he heard Aeron exiting the barn and closing the door he was already making his way in the direction of Raventree Hall, his back turned.
~
When he arrived, he caught concerning looks from a sentry and one of the stable boys he passed on his way to the great hall. He didn’t realise why until one of his brothers hit him on the head with his fist.
“What the fuck happened to you, I thought you went out on patrol.”
Davos was confused for a second, until he felt Balon’s gaze on the left side of his face. He dragged his hand along his skin and felt the sticky stain of drying blood on his cheek, jaw, and matted into his hair.
“Ran into some Aegon-worshipping vermin outside.”
His brother raised an eyebrow. “You dealt with it appropriately I assume?”
“What the fuck do you take me for.”
Balon grinned.
“Just don’t tell dad.”
~
The rest of the night Davos was agitated. He spoke less than usual, and he slammed a fist into some guy’s jaw when he spilled wine on him at dinner.
He expected to feel disgusted about the encounter, but he didn’t. There was still something not right about it though. When he thought about Aeron, a feeling of annoyance and contempt rose in him, which was to be expected, but besides that there was also the memory of his mouth on his own, and the piercing look the boy had given Davos before he dove to tackle him.
He slept fitfully, and all of the next day he was distracted, barely registering their victory when they successfully stole a barrel of Bracken fish from a storage unit relatively deep onto forbidden ground.
When night fell after supper, he tried to resist, but his feet dragged him to the barn as if controlled by some other force. He’d left his axe at home.
When he slid open the door, Aeron was already there.
They didn’t speak a word
~
Time passed, a week, maybe two or three. They met in the barn almost every night. On multiple occasions one of them wouldn’t show for whatever reason, and the other would simply turn back home and tell himself he had wanted to take an evening stroll anyway.
On one of those nights Davos caught some weird looks from a patrolling Blackwood soldier, no doubt wondering why his lordship was sneaking around alone at night this close to the Bracken-Blackwood border. Davos simply greeted him and continued walking.
A different time, they were interrupted by a farmer couple stumbling into the barn with the same idea as them, giggling and drunk. The mount of hay lay in between Davos and Aeron and the strangers, granting them invisibility, though the couple might not have noticed them even if the two boys had donned a fool’s motley and danced right in front of their faces.
The change between them was immediate, though. A very carefully built and silently negotiated agreement had formed between them, and this intrusion was a sharp awakening to their reality. Who they were, what they were doing, and what it insinuated about their relationship. Their silent haste looked ugly compared to the giddy passion on the other side of the haystack.
Shame and anger rose in Aeron. He pushed himself up and aggressively got dressed. Davos did the same, though a bit slower, and the two made no eye contact. Mere minutes later the couple left, and Aeron immediately stormed out, fleeing the awkwardness. He seethed all the way to Stone Hedge.
He returned to the barn the next day all the same.
~
After that third week, there was a change.
A bigger conflict than usual had broken out one rainy day when Bracken farmers took back a stretch of land they claimed the Blackwoods had stolen a year prior. Farmers from either side got into a heated debate, which turned physical when they called on soldiers to represent their claims. Both Davos and Aeron were present.
It wasn’t a full-fledged battle, but two of the soldiers pulled swords on each other, and others had to step in to stop them, which then turned into a bigger brawl. Five men were heavily injured, three Blackwoods and two Brackens.
In the middle of it Davos had lost sight of Aeron, who he had kept in his peripheral vision until then. When the fight broke out he looked around for him, trying not to make it obvious, and also trying not to get hit by a stray sword. His stomach squeezed a little when he couldn’t find him. That annoyed him too.
For a moment Davos thought Aeron had fallen, and it wasn’t until things died down that he saw him on his knees on the ground, panting and with a fresh cut on his upper arm, sword still in hand. He’d been in the middle of the fight.
They made eye contact, and Aeron’s shoulders eased into a less tense position when he noticed him. Davos’ body almost started moving in his direction before he could remind himself that they were both surrounded by their own kind, and that Aeron had most likely just injured a Blackwood. He turned to his friends and forced himself not to look back when the two groups went their own way.
However, when they met that night they were more hasty and desperate than before.
This time, during, they whispered each other’s names, words pressed into skin. They lingered a moment longer after, chest to chest, head burrowed in neck. When they untangled from their embrace they slowly dressed together.
Without speaking Davos handed Aeron his undershirt from where it had been thrown to the floor, hand slightly trembling, and when they made for the door Aeron softly brushed some strands of hay from Davos’ shoulders. Outside they parted for opposite directions without glancing back. Silently, of course, though the unspoken words in the air were thick enough to choke.
~
Something had shifted and they both knew it. They also knew they should probably kill whatever this was between them, though they never spoke of what they did out loud.
Aeron tried once, and stopped showing up for three nights. On the fourth day, Davos tracked him down in the woods and shoved him against a tree. When they went their separate ways again Aeron’s lips were swollen and his head swimming.
After that it seemed harder to stay away with every passing day. Their enthusiasm made them reckless, and twice they were nearly caught when out in the open.
One of those times they had been swimming in a lake stretching both Bracken and Blackwood grounds, with the water still holding a little summer warmth despite the chilly October air.
Davos’ hands had been flung around Aeron’s shoulders when a Blackwood rider strode past on a mare. He had quickly shoved himself and Aeron under the dark blue surface, and they’d held their breaths for as long as they could manage. When they resurfaced the rider was gone, though their clothes made an eye-catching pile of red, black and yellow on the grass. When the adrenaline passed, they’d laughed, and Aeron had pushed Davos’ wet hair back and out of his face.
The second time was more tricky. They’d luckily been fully clothed when a group of Bracken boys walked in on them in the woods, and Aeron had to pretend he’d been beating Davos up to avoid suspicion. It’d taken a lot of convincing and knightly authority to prevent the Brackens from ganging up on Davos and finishing the job. After that they didn’t attempt to find each other anymore during daylight hours.
Other things changed as well, but neither of them could explain their new behaviour. When Davos’ sword belt ripped, Aeron brought some leather and string and patched it up, even though there were Blackwood servants who could have done that task for him in less time. In return Davos offered to train Aeron in fighting, which Aeron accepted eagerly, still itching to improve his skills with the sword.
When Aeron cut his leg during one of their sessions Davos reached for his pouch and tossed him a roll of bandages. Another day, Aeron wordlessly offered Davos some strips of dried meat, and they snacked on them while watching some pigeons fight over a piece of mouldy bread.
A different night, Davos snuck back into his bedchamber and found he had put on Aeron’s undershirt instead of his own. He changed out of it and held it for a second, imagining Aeron wearing his own red shirt, then folded it and stuffed it on the bottom of his clothing chest, hidden from the servants. They didn’t mention it the next day and they never exchanged them back.
That was the double-edged sword of it all. The not-talking. They made plenty of jokes, though meanness had left the words a while ago, and they whispered words in each other’s ears in the dark, but they never truly talked. They couldn’t.
Talking about what they did would make it too real, and force the responsibility for it onto their shoulders. It was easier to pretend the time they spent together didn’t exist, that they weren’t thinking about it every morning and afternoon before they found their way back to each other in the evening.
Talking about themselves was also impossible. There was too much they disagreed on, their houses too dangerously intertwined to pretend they could ever be anything else than a Bracken and a Blackwood. Their lordly titles made them an example for others, and it fell to them to defend the Bracken and Blackwood honour.
It was already tense whenever they ran into each other when other people were around, and they had to stick to their roles as heirs to their houses. They couldn’t bring that tension into the weird little space they had dug out for themselves in this rivalry. They wouldn’t survive it.
And it wasn’t like they had to pretend. They truly did still despise each other’s house. Old wounds ripped open easily these days, and spilled thick blood on top of fresh injustices. The connection between them was pure, but fragile, and on top of it balanced a thousand years of death and hatred. Maybe it was bound to break eventually.
~
When Davos didn’t show one night, Aeron thought nothing of it. He walked back to Stone Hedge, played a game of cards with Gully, and went to bed early. When he woke up the next day, there hung a strange atmosphere all around the hall.
When he found Gully near the stables the boy was basically buzzing with energy. He pulled Aeron close when he spotted him and rapidly shared his information.
“A few of ours went out last night and killed a blackwood, right there in Raventree Hall. They weren’t even caught so they must be walking around here somewhere right now.” He started looking around as if he could smell the identity of the heroes.
Aeron froze solid for a moment. “A Blackwood?”
“Yes! One of the sons of the lord Blackwood, Balon I think. Too bad we didn’t get the heir.” Gully was looking at him expectantly.
Aeron pushed down the dread that had risen up in his throat initially, and only then realized the implications of what Gully had said.
“Fuck. Gully do you think they’re gonna retaliate? Is this war?”
“I sure hope so. I’ve been waiting to kill some of those bastards for ages.” The other boy seemed genuinely excited.
Aeron spent a moment in thought, then turned and threw some words at Gully over his shoulder.
“I have to talk to my uncle about this.”
He tried not to think about Davos when he walked the stone steps up to the great hall.
When he returned from lord Blackwood’s chambers it was with direct orders to patrol the borders vigilantly, not lashing out but staying on their toes. His uncle did not appreciate the spontaneous murder performed by some boys under his own protection, but at this point there was nothing they could do.
The house rivalry was fought back and forth everyday in small conflicts, but such a statement as killing one of the lord’s sons could not go unanswered by Blackwood higher up house officials.
Aeron made his way to the border with a group of other Bracken boys, guarding their spot near the wooden mill, which turned lazily and cast long shadows on the farmers toiling below.
By midday Aeron was tired of standing and perched on the pile of boundary stones, joking back and forth with his companions, but his heart was not in it. A charged tension surrounded them and they could all feel it.
Maybe two hours had passed when things went south.
He was turned away from the border, chatting with the others when a call rang over the field from behind him.
“BRACKEN!”
The anger in it drove a chill up Aeron’s back. When he turned, he was unsurprised to see Davos, followed by a handful of other Blackwoods, making way toward them quickly.
Aeron swallowed. He knew he was the leader of his little group, and it fell on him to react properly so the others could follow his example. Within seconds his palms grew sweaty.
Davos stopped a few steps removed from the border.
“Put the boundary stones back.”
He said it conversationally enough, but underneath it flowed a hatred that Aeron wasn’t used to hearing from him anymore. At least, not aimed towards himself.
“We didn’t move them.”
He strode towards Davos, hoping to shut down the conversation and drive the Blackwoods away before things escalated.
“Oh so did they move themselves then? Just rolled their way over so Bracken cows can fill their bellies on Blackwood grass?”
When they came face to face, Aeron’s hope to deal with this quickly died immediately. Davos wasn’t gonna let this slide. The boy didn’t just look angry, but furious, his muscles tenser than they should be and his eyes cold and strange. To Aeron he looked once again like infamous Davos Blackwood, the crazy maniac who he avoided at all cost. This clearly wasn’t just about the boundary stones.
He thinks I did this, that I killed his brother, Aeron realised. He didn’t know how to tell Davos that he hadn’t had a part in it with the others watching, but then it struck him. It doesn’t even matter if I didn’t do it. I’m a Bracken. That’s enough.
Aeron took a breath. “The assize at Riverrun-“
“FUCK the assize. And fuck you.”
Davos came even closer. Aeron could feel the other Brackens at his back flinch away. He suddenly felt very exposed.
“This is our land.” Davos continued.
“It’s Bracken land.”
Aeron attempted to sound final, and turned to walk back to prove his point. From where he was standing near him, Gully opened his mouth.
“Babe-killer.”
Aeron stopped walking and closed his eyes, mentally cursing whomever had put Gully on this earth with him.
“What did you say?”
Davos spoke tight-lipped and dangerously.
Gully looked at Aeron, expecting him to take over. Aeron swallowed again, straightened his spine, and turned back. He could do this.
“Your false queen Rhaenyra is a kin-slayer.”
Davos laughed, but there was no mirth in it.
“You're one to talk. Aegon Targaryen is no true king, just as you are no true knight. You’re both craven, little, cunts.”
That last part stung, deeply. During his speech Davos had walked closer to him, and they were now face to face. From this distance, Aeron saw something else in Davos’ face, besides the rage. Uncertainty? Regret?
Aeron himself felt betrayed, and tired, but he made a final attempt at conciliation anyway.
“Davos,” he whispered.
“Don’t do this right now.”
They were close enough that the others couldn’t hear them.
Something flickered in Davos’ eyes. However, when he spoke again, it was loud enough for all to hear.
“I, Davos Blackwood, declare war on house Bracken, for conspiring with Aegon the usurper against the true queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, and thereby committing treason.”
Aeron heard someone say “fuck” from behind him. Even the other Blackwoods Davos had brought were shocked by the statement. Aeron knew it was over then, there were too many witnesses. They couldn’t pretend it had never happened.
He continued to stand there, empty, looking at Davos while he declared the place where they stood as the battlefield where their first clash would be fought on the morrow. He avoided making eye contact with Aeron.
When Davos was done, he swung around and walked away briskly, the other Blackwoods scrambling after him, leaving Aeron standing on the grass.
Gully came up beside him with the other boys.
“I wish you had declared war on them first Ser, but at least something is finally happening.”
“We’re reaping what we’ve sown.” Aeron spoke mostly to himself.
“What does that mean?,” Gully asked while absentmindedly wiping a hand under his nose. Aeron shoved his sword into the boy’s hands.
“It means stop fucking whining and start being useful for once.”
~
The sun had set when Aeron finally dared to get away from the others in search of Davos. He found him in a clearing just across the Blackwood border, after he had stealthily snuck around the sentries. Davos was hacking away at a tree with his sword. The noise of it made Aeron go unnoticed until he stood only about two meters shy of him and called Davos’ name. The boy swung around, anger already fiery in his eyes. He threw the sword next to him on the ground.
“Go away Bracken.”
“I want to talk to you,” Aeron returned.
“Well clearly I don’t.”
Davos spoke loudly and turned back to the tree, but he didn’t take initiative to attack, so the other boy stayed. Aeron wasn’t sure where to start, but the annoyance he felt at Davos in that moment made the choice for him.
“You could have just ignored us earlier. You know we didn’t move the boundary stones.”
Davos didn’t answer.
“It’s all because of your stupid pride that-“
“My pride?”
At that he swirled back around. When he looked at Aeron his eyes took on a wild sheen.
“Your fucking family has tormented us for centuries.” He closed in on Aeron, peering down at him from an angle. His hand grabbed onto the fabric of the boy’s jerkin below his collar.
“You fucking Brackens act so high and mighty with your fancy hair and your pretty tunics, but you slaughter my family and townsmen all the same. Every time I look into your eyes I can feel your contempt for me. Don’t think I don’t know it. I’m a stain on your ego as much as you stain your hands on Blackwood blood and you dare talk about my pride.”
The outburst made Aeron move back a step but Davos followed just as quick, still holding on to him. They were both breathing heavily.
“you know as well as I do that our houses are both to blame for our past.”
Aeron’s voice quivered but rung sharp nevertheless.
“I didn’t start this war and I was not the one who killed your brother. Why can’t you see that? We killed your kin? Sure, but who burned down and plundered our villages? Who steals our wheat and fish? Who is the reason I no longer have grandparents, or a father?”
Davos’ eyes widened in anger but Aeron spoke again before he could cut in.
“The point is that it doesn’t matter. Whatever our ancestors have done, whatever we do to each other every day. Our blood depths run deep, but they are even. I have never known anything other than hating the Blackwoods, but I don’t hate you.”
At that, Davos sucked in a deep breath, and his fist loosened. Aeron steadied himself and continued more confidently.
“I don’t look at you with contempt. I haven’t since I got to know you. Since the day we… well. Do you know what I see when I look at you? I see-“
“No.”
Davos had regained his composure, and with it a stony aura had settled over his body. He seemed to be looking at something over Aeron’s shoulder, and when the other turned his head to see what had captured his attention he observed a row of Blackwood sigil flags, making slow waves in the wind. He turned back to Davos, who seemed almost to have retracted into himself, once again looking at Aeron but showing nothing in his face.
“No,” He repeated. “I do not care. I never have, not for you.”
“Davos.”
It was a statement, not a question.
Slowly, very slowly, Aeron straightened up, a coldness spreading over his face to match Davos’. Two masks, two mirrors, reflecting back and forth a thousand years of pain.
“I am a Blackwood of Raventree Hall.” Davos started again.
“I serve my house and my family. I do not care for Brackens. I will hate you until the day that I-“
“Babe-killer.”
A deadly silence settled in the yard. A beat of time passed, then:
“what?” Davos’ reply was flat, spoken softly.
“That’s what I see when I look at you.”
The words echoed between them, the one who spoke them looking as unfeeling as a rock, though the unshed tears rimming his lashes betrayed something else.
“A babe-killer, like your pathetic pretender of a queen.”
The memory of the afternoon's events blanketed them like snow. The Blackwood flags behind Aeron waved in stark contrast to his yellow tunic. In the heartbeat that followed, one tear escaped the Bracken's eyes, dragging a path over his left cheek, and with it a soft whisper.
“You did this. Not me. Remember that.”
A barely noticeable flicker passed over Davos. He took a breath, as if to begin a plea. He intended to call the other boy’s name, but Aeron had turned his back and stalked away into the dark, with Davos frozen solid to the grass beneath his boots.
~
The Blackwoods were the first to arrive the next morning. Restless and angry, Davos’ friends and brothers covered the field behind him, looking as one to the horizon. From that direction a small host clad in yellow was slowly emerging, passing on the right side of the large mill.
Davos reached inside for his rage, his hatred, but for once he came up empty. Squinting, he searched the line for a familiar shape. When he found it, his heart sank. Tendrils of golden hair moved slightly in the wind, and when he was close enough to make out his face he thought for a brief moment that their eyes met, but he couldn’t be sure.
“We’re gonna rip their fucking heads right off their stupid necks,” a boy besides Davos exclaimed, his hands gripped furiously around a double-headed axe.
“We are.” Davos answered, and drew his sword.
He felt sick.
~
When the horn blew twice, hundreds of voices raised in a roar. The noise of it was enough to send your ears ringing. Battles are never graceful, and always filthy. Hours of rain had softened up the earth late in the night, and even despite the sunny morning the ground soon churned into slimy mud with every pair of boots that stomped through the grass. It sucked at feet and slowed down the soldiers, some losing their balance and falling over, after which they were quickly impaled by an enemy’s spear or sword.
From above, the men looked like ants brawling in the shadow of the mill. Reds, blacks and yellows crawled and slashed and died in droves. Blackwoods and Brackens killed one another in fury and calculated hate, as they had done many times before. A more futile conflict might not exist.
After forty minutes or so, the fighting died down, and with it the noise.
If you were to scan the battlegrounds you might notice a group of small trees towards the north, made noticeable by the lack of movement on the field. Now if you were to walk in that direction, watching your step for corpses and discarded weapons, you might stumble upon a quiet tableaux.
Beneath the tree closest to the mill, two boys lay still. The tracks of dirt and blood on the ground suggest they might have dragged themselves from where they initially fell, to the shade under the deep-green leaves. They make an unlikely pair. Yellow and gold contrast sharply to red and black.
One of them is lying on his stomach. He took a sword to the neck, a nasty wound, and the other has a short dagger protruding from his chest. Most peculiarly, their faces are pressed close together, and between their bodies their hands are clasped, fingers braided in a tight grip. The scene is almost beautiful, with sunlight through the canopy painting playful patterns on their bodies.
There is no time to observe further, though. The two houses are soon to regroup, and preparations must be made if they ever want to get their revenge. Already people move through the field to collect armour and weapons from the dead as servants carry off the wounded.
Far from here, leagues to the south and east, dragons grow restless.