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The dining hall was filled with noise.
Since Baelor had woken up a little over a month ago, almost every week had included a celebratory feast. The tables were filled with all sorts of foods ranging from meats prepared in different ways, vegetables and fruits sorted into fancy bowls, to wine and pastries taking the center and being everyone’s main focus.
Well, everyone elses’ except Baelor’s.
He glanced around the table, watching as his family enjoyed the food and drinks. Their faces were filled with joy, meat juices glimmering on their lips and chins, while hands, covered in sugar and fat from sweets, were busy picking food from the bowls and plates where they had been gathered. Their personal plates were covered in half-eaten vegetables and sliced meats, next to them a bowl of soup and bread broken in half.
The sight was almost difficult to watch. Almost.
What occupied his mind more was worry. Worry for how he was going to excuse the untouched food on his plate, worry for how he must look in the eyes of his family members… Worry about his brother who sat next to him, picking meat from a chicken leg and chewing on it while his violet eyes were dead-set on Baelor’s plate like a hawk.
Baelor must’ve looked suspicious. He kept turning the fork and knife in his hands, poking at the food he had gathered on his plate, yet no matter how much he poked at the vegetables or stabbed the mushrooms or cut his meat into tinier and tinier pieces, the silverware never left the plate. Never stopped touching it.
He felt nauseous.
Everything around him made him feel sick. The food, the noises of lips smacking, meat falling on plates, cups clinking, laughter… A loud sigh from his brother.
“Is something wrong?” Baelor asked as he looked up from his food, glad to have an excuse to stop playing with it.
“You’re not eating.”
It was a correct observation, but one that Baelor didn’t wish to hear out loud. He glanced around, hoping, no, praying to any god listening that no one other than him had heard those words. They hadn’t. All of them were too focused on their own food or bothering the person next to them. Baelor turned to his brother.
“I ate earlier.”
Despite it being a clear lie, he hoped that Maekar would believe it and drop the subject. It’s not like he could even tell the truth if his brother kept pressing about it. How would he even start? Should he start with describing the pit of emptiness he had woken up with? Or maybe he should say that he didn’t enjoy the feeling of cake sticking to his teeth or the fat of meat solidifying on top of his gums. Perhaps, if he had to, he’d say how he liked feeling small. How his thin arms, sunken face, and bones sticking through the fabric of his clothes reminded him of how small he had been as a child, back when he didn’t have the responsibilities that now burden him. Lying was easier.
“Bullshit.”
That made a few heads turn, but they quickly returned to their previous activities. Baelor fiddled with his loose rings, the warm metal giving him something to focus on as his brother continued.
“We both know it’s been weeks since you’ve eaten proper meals.” Maekar pointed at Baelor’s hands, grimacing. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be so fucking thin.”
It was said louder than the previous swear, and in seconds the hall went quiet, silverware and food slowly lowering as confused eyes set on the brothers.
Baelor sighed, looking at everyone when he spoke.
“I’m alright. I believe the deep sleep I was in took more than just my memories and sight.” He tried to keep his tone even and even offered a reassuring smile, but the damage had been done.
Maekar grabbed his wrist, eyes widening when his thumb almost made contact with the other fingers. In response, Baelor couldn’t help feeling satisfaction cross his mind. He knew logically that that wasn’t good. It’s what the maesters had told him. They had warned him that if this habit continued then his body wouldn’t be able to recover or worse… But he only felt relief at that. Was it really terrible if he couldn’t recover and get on with his duties? He looked at Maekar.
Worry hidden behind anger was clear on his face as his violet kept going from Baelor’s thin wrist to his two-colored eyes.
“You’re coming with me.”
And with that command, Baelor was yanked out of his chair, hearing it clatter behind him, as he was walked into his room. His feet stumbled, and his mind wouldn’t quiet as they entered his bedchamber.
What were the children thinking? He had tried his best to hide this from them, and he didn’t know what he would do if any of them realised what was wrong with him or… Gods forbid, tried mimicking him. His chest felt tight, like someone was twisting and squeezing the muscles from inside.
Even as Maekar pushed him into a chair, he still couldn’t calm down.
What was his brother thinking? He fiddled with his rings as he watched Maekar pace around the room. Was he putting together all the times Baelor had left the dining hall even though food still rested on his plate, completely neglected? Was he thinking of how frail Baelor had become? So frail that even multiple layers of clothes couldn’t hide how none of the layers stuck to his skin, so thin that Maekar’s fingers could almost meet even with Baelor’s wrist between them? Or was he remembering all the times Baelor had refused to go out hunting because he had felt faint or his head hurt? Or maybe he was blaming himself, the trial and the weeks after that stuck in a loop in his mind while he thought if he had brought this sickness upon his brother.
At that thought, Baelor raised his head to find Maekar staring out of the window, last drops of sunlight lighting his hair into an almost golden shade, while his hands were tightly held together. Baelor frowned.
“This isn’t your fault.” He reassured firmly, trying his best to make it clear to his brother.
Maekar turned around, face set with worry. Unnecessary worry. Baelor felt fine. He watched silently as Maekar walked closer until he knelt before him, slightly fuller hands grasping a pair of thin ones.
“How could it not be?” Maekar whispered. His head laid on Baelor’s knees. “If it wasn’t for my carelessness, you wouldn’t have been…”
The last words are barely audible, abruptly stopped by choked silence. Baelor’s chest tightened again as he was reminded of what had happened. The smell of blood, tightness all around him, how hot and sticky everything was, how it almost felt like he was floating, his brain desperately trying to block out every hit and stab, the signals of exhaustion his muscles were giving, the fire in his veins. But what his brain couldn’t block out was the final hit. The one that made him fall, body like that of a doll’s as his muscles gave out and he had felt terrified. He had felt so alone, helpless as he laid there for what felt like ages-
Baelor shook his head, fingers finding their way to his brother’s hair, so he could focus on something. A muffled sigh in response made him smile.
“You were trying to protect Aerion, it wasn’t anyone’s fault.”
Neither of them knew how to continue speaking after that, both dealing with their own versions of what had happened, and the feelings that followed.
“I don’t want to lose you.”
It came out slowly, like the words were difficult, and they probably were. Maekar wasn’t known for his words of affection or comfort, but that made the words matter more than anything else.
“You won’t.” Baelor’s words were unsure in comparison, and it pained him just like it pained his brother. He could tell how much those words weighed as hot tears sunk into the fabric of his pants, all the way to his skin.
After a while Maekar left, and Baelor was alone in his room.
Moonlight shone into the room, hitting a mirror that bounced the light on his face.
Baelor looked at the mirror, then at himself.
His clothes were loose. If it weren’t for the grey on his hair, the sight would’ve had no trouble reminding him of a child who had gotten into his father’s clothes, pretending to act like a grown up while still being years away from making any sort of decision that might cost people their lives. But the greyness did cause trouble. His sight changed between a younger and older version of himself. He wanted, no, needed, to feel smaller. Baelor’s hand went to the buttons of his outer coat, shaking hands unbuttoning it until he could take it off.
Now his figure was clearer, thinner. Baelor’s collarbones pushed through the blouse, and the fabric’s cut at the shoulders hung lower than it would’ve if he had the muscle to fill out the space and keep it higher up. His breathing picked up as he pulled the blouse, staring at his bare skin.
Slowly as if approaching a scared animal, he walked over to the mirror. Standing in the moonlight, he could see the shadowed dips between bones. They were like empty lakes in a drought, begging to be filled. His boots dropped to the floor along with his pants, but he didn’t dare take briefs off. It’s more that he couldn’t. His gaze was fixed on his hipbones, not quite obviously pushing through the skin, but they still made their presence known.
A knock at the door sent panic through him like a strike of lightning, and before he could cover up or say he was busy, the wooden door pushed open. Baelor stared in horror as Maekar walked into the room, hands holding onto a silver tray of food that he didn’t get to pay much attention to, because the loud swear from Maekar had filled his mind, repeating over and over again.
“What the fuck.”
Tears flowed from Baelor’s eyes as he stumbled back a few steps, watching his brother close the door, set the tray down, and hurry over just before a wave of nausea and darkness took over him.
When Baelor came back to his body, he felt hands on him before soft pillows and blankets greeted him. His sight swam even though he laid still, trying to figure out what had happened. He tried to sit up, but strong hands pushed him down, and in that moment he remembered what had happened. Baelor forced his eyes to focus on Maekar who sat next to him, brows tightly knit together as violet eyes studied his body.
“Let me sit.” Baelor pleaded.
Maekar looked at him for a second before his hands gently helped Baelor sit up, making sure he wouldn’t faint again.
Baelor felt guilty for scaring his brother. He hadn’t meant for that to happen. He didn’t even feel it coming, and if he had then the damage that had happened wouldn’t have been so bad.
“I’m sorry.”
Maekar didn’t respond. His jaw was pressed tight, and his body was tense as if waiting for Baelor’s eyes to roll back again so he could catch him.
“I…” Baelor tried to think of any kind of explanation he could give. Anything that wouldn’t worry his brother too much. But his mind was blank, and anything other than the truth felt like too much. He had already lied to his brother more than he wanted to. He sighed, looking down at his hands.
Maekar whispered something, but it was too quiet for Baelor to hear.
“Why?”
It was still quiet, but more choked out than before. They both turned to look at each other, tears shining in their eyes.
“It is rather difficult to explain.” Baelor admitted, and it was clear on his brother’s face that he had expected an explanation.
Guilt coursed through Baelor like a hot flash. He knew he had to tell the truth.
“I suppose I miss being young. Laying in the mud made me feel helpless, and after I woke up, I felt that again. It was terrifying to be in both of those moments.” His voice was unsteady, but he pushed the words through the lump in his throat. “I feel exhausted.”
Baelor felt lighter even as he watched his brother’s face twist into a mix of guilt and understanding. His shoulders relaxed, and half of the knots in his mind unraveled.
Maekar stayed quiet for a while, deep in thought as Baelor kept twisting his rings, until he spoke.
“Let me help you.”
And to emphasise his words, he grabbed Baelor’s hands, tightly holding them.
Something so genuine that was woven deep into those words made Baelor let everything out. He leaned into his brother, hands clutching the back of his coat as he gasped and cried through gritted teeth, desperately trying to muffle them so no one else would hear. He didn’t want anyone else to know. Not his children nor his nieces and nephews, no one else.
Baelor kept a tight grip on Maekar while strong, fuller, arms held him close as if Baelor would wither away at any moment like dust in a gust of wind. All the guilt, fear, and relief came out at once, and he couldn’t stop. Even as Maekar slowly swayed them from side to side, he wanted to sink deeper into his chest, like a child seeking safety.
He felt young. His frail body, as it climbed onto Maekar’s lap, and his head rested on the clothed shoulder, fit perfectly there. The knowledge of that left him in a dizzy state, partially knowing how wrong it was for his adult body to fit into his brother’s hold, but another part felt satisfied, like his longing for youth had finally been granted.
“You’re too thin.” Maekar whispered in his ear, voice shaking as much as his hands.
“I apologise.” Baelor whispered back through cries, trying to savor the moment as much as he could, as if at any moment his brother would push him to the floor and leave.
But that didn’t happen.
Instead, as they quieted down, and Maekar felt it was alright enough to let go, the younger pulled his attention to the abandoned silver tray on a table next to the door.
“Can I help you now?”
Baelor nodded. He sat back on his bed, wiping away the tears as he watched Maekar bring the tray to the bed, setting it down on his lap when he sat down next to Baelor.
“The wine spilled. I apologise.”
Baelor smiled and looked at the small plates and cups on the tray. There were nuts, grapes, and soup in a tea cup… odd, but thoughtful. Maekar likely knew that he wouldn’t eat much even if he tried to.
“I tried to find foods that I’ve seen you eat, when you do decide to eat.” Maekar said sheepishly, like the admission of having cared enough to study his brother was the most embarrassing thing ever. He picked up a nut, already cracked, and handed it to his brother.
Baelor took it, and twirled it in his hands. It was smooth. The oils rubbed into his hands the more he kept it there. Would it crunch between his teeth? Or had it softened from the dampness in the air so that when he’d bite it, it would spread between his teeth in one piece? Thoughts like this floated in his mind, and he encouraged them the longer he held the nut in his hand.
“You don’t have to eat that if you don’t want to.”
“I want to.” Baelor responded, though his voice sounded distant.
“Then stop caressing as if it were a maiden.”
Baelor rolled his eyes, and then looked at the nut for a second before his hand hesitantly brought it to his mouth. He bit it, focusing on how many chews it took to turn it into mush.
“It’s dry.”
“It’s a fucking nut, of course it’s dry.” Maekar scoffed, but there was satisfaction on his face.
Baelor watched as his brother picked up the cup of soup and a spoon. His hands moved slowly as he dipped the spoon into the liquid and brought it over to Baelor.
“What are you doing?” Baelor asked, backing into the pillows just a bit.
“I’m attempting to feed you.”
The spoon didn’t move closer. Instead, it stayed in place, patient just like Maekar was. Baelor looked down at the liquid. It had a piece of cabbage in it, and nothing else. It would keep him thin.
That thought made him frown. His brother had come into his room with the intention of helping. He had caught Baelor when he fainted, laid him down, held words behind shut lips that Baelor probably deserved for scaring him, had held his older brother as he cried about having too many responsibilities, so many that he wished to be a child again, so he could be cared for, and now Baelor was thinking about how his brother’s help could still keep him thin. He wanted to cry.
“You don’t have to-”
Maekar’s words were cut off as Baelor took the spoon into his mouth and swallowed the liquid, chewing on the cabbage slice with tears. He almost vomited from the slimy feel of it as it slowly turned into mush. It was more of a struggle to swallow it than the liquid. If Baelor could have his way, he'd rather drink and ocean of the soup before even thinking of another cabbage slice.
The “thank you” that followed was immediate, and it only made Baelor force more of the soup into his empty stomach. He fought the nausea that rose in his throat, threatening to sour more than his taste buds.. Every swallow was met with a careful “thank you”, and even though it felt ridiculous and excessive, Baelor appreciated it. At least it made him feel like none of his efforts were for nothing.
After the soup was gone, and the tray set aside, they both laid in bed, Baelor in Maekar’s hold, and Maekar’s fingers passing over the bones that stuck out.
A thought crossed Baelor’s mind.
“Could we do this again?”
He wanted to try. Not only for himself, but for his brother, his sons, nieces, and nephews. The looks on their faces during today’s dinner had been something he never wanted to see again.
“If it helps you, then yes. But you will not tell anyone about me feeding you.” Maekar said seriously.
Baelor nodded in agreement.
From that moment onwards, whenever they ate, it would involve Maekar cutting fruit or even cracking open nuts, and giving them to Baelor. Sometimes, Baelor couldn’t eat, and even if it took days for him to try again, Maekar would still hand him something to eat, or be there to feed him at night, and Baelor couldn’t be more grateful.