Work Text:
“That was a dreadful shot.”
The brothers’ eyes shifted from the arrow, penetrated into the middle of a tree, to each other. It was silent in the meadow, except for the birds chirping, or the nearby river sloshing its water around rocks. It was peaceful.
As part of Baelor’s recovery, the maesters had suggested that he be taken to familiar places to help his memory. It had also been said that he should preferably be taken outside to help strengthen his poor eyesight he had developed. So, Maekar had taken it upon himself to spend time with Baelor twice every week. Those two days were dedicated just for them. Not their children nor politics. It was just the two of them for a full day.
Today, Baelor and Maekar had set off at dawn when the wind had been chilly, early enough that the moon struggled to light their way to their usual hunting spot near Summerhall. It reminded Maekar of when they were teens. Sneaking away early, silhouettes hidden by shadows as they made their way to a garden or meadow to watch the sunrise. Maekar’s hair had been longer then, long enough for their mother to braid it and for Baelor to put flowers in it. And Baelor had looked less stressed then, face unmarked by worries, hair a smooth darkness, unbothered by grey hairs or the damage Maekar’s mace had caused.
They had been in the meadow for a few hours, the sun nearing the middle of the sky.
“It seems my aim has gotten worse,” Baelor coughed awkwardly, relaxing his hold on his bow.
“It’s not your fucking aim, it’s your sight.”
“You accuse me of blindness rather than weakness?”
Maekar nodded, aiming his crossbow between two trees, not at anything in specific. He breathed, and pulled the trigger. From the corner of his eye, Baelor looked at the arrow, not quick enough to fully follow it, but his head made it to the general direction before the arrow disappeared.
“I thought we weren’t supposed to be competing?”
The sun blinded Maekar momentarily as he shifted to sit on the ground, arms bent to support his weight so he could continue looking at his brother. Baelor’s hair was longer.
“We aren’t.”
They were.
No matter how much they’ve grown, that childish competitiveness still showed up between them every now and then. Whether it started with Maekar reading a book to Baelor, making a comment about the historical accuracy of an event to which his brother had to reply with a correction, which quickly set them into a competition of who knew more or whether Baelor challenged Maekar to a riding contest, leaving him behind a cloud of dust in seconds, but usually Maekar caught up quicker than the cloud disappeared.
Maekar focused his tired eyes on their horses grazing in the meadow. How nice it must be to feel free and do whatever you want whenever you aren’t leashed. Baelor stretched, a sigh of exhaustion leaving him.
“Do you wish to go back?” Maekar asked, looking at Baelor.
His dark hair was caressed by the wind, strands thrown all over his face.
“Not unless you do.” Baelor said, two-colored eyes squinting as he smiled.
Maekar shook his head. He’d had enough of the prickly grass stabbing at him through the clothes that were meant to protect him from the elements. He left his crossbow behind as he made his way back to his brother. He could feel Baelor’s eyes on him as he gathered their unopened flasks, and food into a leather bag.
Setting them somewhere safe, he motioned for Baelor to come with him. His brother was clearly tired of standing still and shooting at nothing, and Maekar was tired of the older sighing with every shot that went off the intended path.
“Where are we going?” Baelor walked behind him toward the river, bow and arrow bag awkwardly slinging in his hold.
“You keep whining and it is annoying.” Maekar stated, slowing around dips in the path that were laid down traps.
The river was livelier than the meadow. Although there weren’t that many flowers around, there were plenty of other plants, stones, birds, and insects that filled the air with their singing. It was calming. At least for his brother.
Maekar liked predictable things. He preferred the calm meadow, the paths that had been walked on over hundreds of years, the rocks surrounding ravines that had been eroded from tens of exhausted travelers deeming them safe enough. Yes, he preferred knowing that he would be safe as many others before him had been.
Meanwhile Baelor, even though he had been raised as a prince, liked unpredictable things. It had been his way of gaining control when everything else in his life had been decided by others down to the most minute details, like how his hair was to be styled for political meetings or what foods he was allowed to eat. Yes, Baelor, with his controlled temper, and precise words, liked unruly waters, worn down ruins, books from far away that he didn’t know anything about other than the name or author.
Although Maekar didn’t like those things, he had learned to tolerate them for the sake of his brother maintaining some sense of freedom. And since the maesters had strongly suggested that he be taken to familiar events or places he enjoyed, what better way to do that other than to take Baelor to the river where they had fished throughout the years?
The river was calmer than usual. The stones around it were mostly dry, and likely warm from standing in the sun for as long as the brothers had been.
They took off their boots, and rolled up their pants as far up as they would go. The stones were warmer than Maekar had thought. He let out a sigh as the warmth spread to his body, and he could tell Baelor enjoyed it too from the way his shoulders slumped forward.
Their feet dipped into the water.
“Shit, it’s cold,” Maekar hissed, fighting back the urge to retreat further onto the stone.
Baelor hummed, but didn’t seem that bothered by the contrast in temperatures.
“I think it is quite pleasant.”
“You have lost your senses,” Maekar looked at his brother.
His dark hair laid on his shoulders, shining like gold as the sun helped to highlight it. Baelor looked peaceful. His wrinkles had almost fully disappeared, hiding behind a look of enjoyment, and even his eyes looked more full of life.
It had been so long since Maekar had last seen his brother in this state, like he was the embodiment of what it means to enjoy life. Everything they had been through in the past two months had led to this moment. The nights of terror where Baelor couldn’t look at Maekar, the sleepless nights where Baelor’s eyes shined with exhaustion as he listened to his younger brother read books out loud, both desperately hoping sleep would take the older into a peaceful embrace.
Even the family dinners filled with reckless behaviour and flying silverware that left Baelor flinching like a child at the hands of an ill-tempered father, and Maekar yelling until sons and nephews had returned to their seats, or the days where the whole family had to chip in reminders of important names, alliances, agreements, and at worst, what day or year it was to Baelor, they had all led to this.
A moment of calm away from chaos where Maekar could make sure Baelor had permission to breathe and live at his own pace.
Maekar couldn’t help smiling. His brother looked so happy for the first time in months, two-colored eyes hidden behind shut lids, crow’s feet creasing like the pleats of curtains without worry or fear.
They enjoyed the river’s coldness and the sun’s warmth for a while, until Maekar complained of his eyes hurting. They headed back to the meadow, wondering if the food would still be there or if the horses had eaten everything.
The sun had tilted in the sky, inching closer to the tall trees in the horizon, but not yet making the move to rest. The brothers laid on the grass, Baelor’s head resting on Maekar.
Maekar’s hands moved gently through Baelor’s hair, as they looked at the clouds slowly drifting over tree tops, birds flying in imperfect formations along with them.
“It’s longer.” Maekar heard his brother hum in question. “Your hair, I mean.”
Baelor nodded in agreement.
“Does it not bother you?”
Baelor tilted his head back, dark hair pooling on top of Maekar’s abdomen.
“Only when it’s windy.”
It had been windy the whole day. Ever since they set out to the forest, the wind had just kept picking up as the day passed, until it had decided to settle down into a gentle breeze that still somehow managed to pull Baelor’s hair along with it into his face.
“I shall braid it for you then.”
Baelor nodded, closing his eyes as Maekar started at his left temple, separating hairs into three strands. He pulled them over each other with strategic precision, not too tight, and not too loose. It was a skill he had been building over the years with their mother, and later on with his daughters. He would say he was good at it, it’s not like anyone had complained to him so far, and Baelor would agree.
“You braid well.”
“Shut up,” Maekar huffed out, trying to focus on the right side, but the wind kept picking up strands and handing them to Maekar which in turn he kept adding to the braid before having to undo it and start again. He cursed at the wind, “Stop fucking moving.”
When he was done with the two braids, he rested them together between his fingers as his free hand searched for a piece of hay. He broke it, and loosely tied the braids together. The hay didn’t break, and the braids didn’t come apart, so he considered his job well done.
Baelor’s hand lifted to feel the braids.
“Thank you.”
The wind had slowed down more.