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It’s a rare thing to find a simultaneous moment of quiet within the Red Keep. A thick, summer heat wave sits over the capital like a blanket. The oppressive weight has the lowest peasant in Flea Bottom to the noblest lords and ladies in the palace unwilling to exert more effort than required today, including Princes Baelor and Maekar. King Daeron called a hold to all meetings unless for urgent matters, saying it is far too hot to have either nobles or servants climbing the halls of the palace to go from meeting room to meeting room. Although, most know the heat is a bit trying on the old king’s health these days.
Prince Maekar is not complaining about the day of rest. He can’t count how long it’s been since both himself or his husband had a day with no responsibilities between them. Now if only he could find the man. He’d checked their rooms, Baelor’s favorite bench in the gardens, the barracks, and the cool room of their family’s private dining hall. Nothing.
The only thing he’d found were their sons enjoying a day free from training and lessons, and their daughters, who had excitedly shown him the beautiful embroidery they’d been working on for the Queen. He made a mental note to check in on the girls more often. With court responsibilities and unruly sons, it was too easy for the well-behaved girls to be lost to the background of chaos. Perhaps he could convince Baelor to go hawking with himself and the girls so they could have time alone with their fathers. The thought makes him smile.
The heavy wooden doors of the library loom before him. The rich scent of his alpha seeps beckoningly from beneath the oak doors. He should have known Baelor would be here. The man can’t keep his hands off books, going so far as to even carry one with him on the busiest days in case he finds a minute or two to read a passage. It’s an obsession Maekar cannot fully understand. He prefers the feel of a horse and the weight of a weapon in his hand when not attending to his own duties.
To those who do not know them, most would guess that Maekar as an omega would prefer the books and Baelor as alpha the weapons. Whenever the mistake is made near them, Maekar never tires of the shared humorous look they give each other. Baelor is an exceptional warrior, but he does not yearn for the sport like Maekar.
His brother lounges on a couch near an open window, catching what little breeze can be felt rising from the nearby bay. A tome nearly as thick as he is balanced on his thighs. Maekar takes in the picture they make. His husband is relaxed. The creases that have worn their way into his skin are smoothed. His eyes scan the words scrawled on the page with an engrossed focus. He idly cards a hand through his hair, a frown pulling at his brows as he reads.
“No, no…that can’t be right,” Baelor murmurs to himself. Maekar’s mouth twitches with an indulgent smile. “The stars don’t align until the fourth cycle…unless the scribe copied it incorrectly?” He turns the page with care. “Imagine misplacing an entire constellation,” Baelor chuckles to himself.
Maekar lets the library doors soundlessly close behind him and pads softly towards the charming scene of Baelor scrutinizing a Citadel-approved book. He can see where Aemon inherits his studious nature.
“Hmmm…this makes sense. If the scribe is considering Winter, then perhaps the stars do not follow the same pattern as in Summer?”
Maekar steps closer, folding his arms as he remains unnoticed. Unbiddenly, he remembers the days when Baelor would read nightly to the children. More often than not he would become so caught up in the story he would keep reading aloud well after the pups had fallen asleep. The number of times Maekar would have to gently pry book and husband back to their own bed to sleep was many. Sometimes he didn’t bother. He’d find Baelor in the morning laid out on one of the children’s beds with the pups all piled around him and in his arms in a sleeping heap. The memory is a fond and warm one.
“If only Maekar had the level of patience required for astronomy. He’d have discredited this nonsense in minutes.”
“Within seconds, actually.”
Baelor startles, just slightly, but enough to make Maekar smirk at the alpha for being caught unawares. Baelor’s eyes soften instantly. A look he reserves only for his brother. Maekar feels a blush creep up his neck.
“You think of me when you read astronomy, brother?” He tries for an uninterested tone, but Baelor is looking so pleased to see him his voice hitches.
“Anytime I think of the stars, I think of you.” Baelor is so earnest in his answer Maekar feels his usual courtly detached-shell crack. He eyes his husband. Baelor smiles back, open and inviting. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough to learn you argue with books.” He snorts in amusement, stepping closer. “Do they argue back?”
“Only when you’re standing nearby.” Baelor hooks Maekar around the waist and pulls him onto the couch with him. Maekar grunts. He doesn’t know how his brother manages to safely deposit his book on the floor and pull Maekar between his outstretched legs and onto his chest, but his complaints die feeling Baelor’s arms wrap around him. He hums in pleasure and shoves his nose greedily into Baelor’s scent gland to inhale deeply.
Baelor twines a hand around the back of his head and cradles his omega closer. Both sit silently for a time, just enjoying the feel of one another and the comforting haze of their combining scents.
“You read to much,” Maekar mumbles the complaint into his brother’s neck.
He can feel Baelor smile into his hair. “And you read to little.”
Rather than respond, Maekar nips playfully at Baelor’s gland until he feels his brother give an admonishing tug on his hair. He laughs but stops, pressing an apologetic kiss to the scarred mating-mark before going back to inhaling his alpha.
“I was reading old star charts and constellation theories,” Baelor murmurs. Maekar half listens, his body melting into Baelor’s as his brother’s other hand caresses him from shoulders to waist in long, repeating sweeps. His eyes close against his will. “Did you know some Maesters believe the constellations are the gods’ beasts that freely leave the sky when one of the gods calls upon them? Maester Sutton goes so far as to argue the constellations can take physical form in the realm during times of great conflict.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Maekar slurs sleepily. Baelor laughs at his state, the sound deep and rich. It reverberates into Maekar and pulls pleased purrs from his chest.
“Maester Hamforth and Acolyte Riverspring argue the constellations are White Walkers waiting to be called back to Earth to start an endless Winter.”
“Sounds like commoner nonsense. Or is it Stark nonsense?”
Baelor presses a conciliatory kiss to Maekar’s brow. “These are learned men, brother. They spent years studying the topic.”
“Not enough years, apparently,” Maekar says tartly. Baelor nuzzles into Maekar’s hair and lets the topic drop. They lie there in silence until Maekar shifts to look up at a Baelor a bit petulantly. “Don’t stop talking. Your voice is…pleasant.”
Baelor’s eyes twinkle at his mate and the closest thing his prideful omega will come to for an apology. He tucks Maekar’s face back into his neck and continues. “One scholar believes eclipses were the heavens blinking. Not closing their eyes – just blinking.”
Maekar huffs. “Heavens don’t have eyes.”
“Exactly what another scholar argued! Very vehemently.” Baelor grins. “There were diagrams.”
Maekar chuckles with Baelor, and sidles lower on the alpha’s body until he can rest his chin on his brother’s collarbone and watch him through lidded eyes. He does enjoy it when Baelor gets caught up in explaining his books.
“A Maester from the time of Aegon’s Conquest wrote that dragons weren’t from Old Valyria at all.” He looks down in Maekar’s eyes and sweeps a gentle thumb across his cheekbone. “He says they were gifted to humanity by the stars. Something about a second moon that hatched a thousand, thousand dragons with stars as their riders.”
“That makes less sense than the blinking heavens,” Maekar drawls.
“True. But the drawings were beautiful.”
Maekar watches Baelor’s eyes dance. The soft timbre of his voice fills the room intimately. He barely understands half of what they’re talking about, but as long as Baelor seems pleased, he doesn’t mind in the least.
Baelor continues, now caught up in reciting the knowledge he learned as his hand continues to trace and cradle Maekar’s face with loving care. “And then there’s this theory that time itself is layered. Like pages stacked atop one another. That the past and present touch at the edges in an endless loop.”
“Are you sure you didn’t accidently grab a book from the poetry section? I heard the librarian had his staff reorganizing last week.”
Baelor laughs softly and presses a gentle kiss on Maekar’s mouth. His tongue darts between their lips, the only sign of his alpha’s constant desire for him. “It’s philosophy. Though the distinction is often thin.” He seems lost in thought for a moment. “But I like the idea. That moments are connected in ways we cannot see. That what we do now brushes against what came before and what will come next.”
“Sounds like the long way of saying ‘consequences exist’.”
“And there’s this chapter on memory,” Baelor continues like he didn’t hear the gripe. “All about how the mind fills in gaps with stories of its own. How two people can remember the same moment differently.”
Maekar shifts slightly. “Or maybe one of them is remembering it correctly and the other is being dramatic.”
Baelor’s lips curve in a soft, fond way that never fails to bring butterflies to Maekar’s belly. “Spoken like a man who hates being contradicted.”
“Spoken like someone who enjoys contradicting me.”
They grin at each other in shared memories. Maekar opens his mouth to say more, but a sharp knock interrupts him. His expression sours instantly at the intrusion. Baelor smooths his frown with tender fingers. A court attendant stands in the library doors.
“My princes, His Grace the King requests your presence at once. Pirate raiding ships have been sighted off Tarth and aid has been requested from the Crown.”
Maekar closes his eyes briefly. Not fast enough to stop Baelor from seeing the disappointment fill them.
“We’ll be there.” Baelor responds for the both of them, gesturing the attendant away who bows out of the library.
“Of course,” Maekar grumbles. “We’re supposed to have the day off.”
“Pirates in Tarth don’t know it’s sweltering here,” Baelor reasons gently.
They both rise reluctantly, taking a moment to straighten their court attire. As they start toward the doorway, Baelor leans closer, voice low in Maekar’s ear. “When war planning is done, we’ll come back here. Promise.”
Maekar feels something in his chest loosen, his fingers finding Baelor’s hand which locks around him without hesitation. “Remind me to talk to you about hawking.”
“Hawking,” Baelor inquires as they make their way to the council chamber. Interest piques in his eyes as he looks over at Maekar.
“Our daughters. I think they would benefit to get out of the castle and away from their brothers for a bit.” Maekar chews on his words for a moment. “And benefit to spend time with us together.”
Baelor’s hand tightens on his own. “You never need to convince me to spend time with our children or you. Just tell me when and I will be there.”
Maekar lifts Baelor’s hand to press a soft kiss to his palm. “I’ll make the arrangements then. Perhaps you can find more theories to share with our girls.”
Baelor grins like a kid. “Daella’s smart as a whip. You may be resigning yourself and Rhae to a very academic discussion.”
Maekar answers his smile with a smile. “We’ll just have to risk it. Besides, Rhae rides a horse better than anyone in the family. She may just leave us behind in a cloud of dust.”
Baelor barks a laugh at the imagery. “I think you’d do the same some days.”
Maekar studies his brother, sobering as the council chamber comes into view. “Before we were promised and mated, it was tempting.”
Baelor stops them before entering. “And now,” he asks quietly so the Kingsguard posted nearby do not hear.
Maekar rolls his eyes, dragging his removed, prickly courtier personality to the front again. “I’m here, aren’t I?” He releases his brother’s hand and strides into the council chamber. He can feel Baelor beaming at his back. It makes his spine straighten in pride as he takes his seat at the council table. Baelor winks at him, sinking into his own seat across from him.