Work Text:
A royal wedding was such a grand affair that the festivities could last for days. Maekar did not particularly want a celebration that lasted for days. But King Daeron did not want House Dayne to think he was going to be remiss about celebrating their union, and as always, politics came first.
That’s how Maekar found himself on the second day of his own wedding festivities, sitting alone on his side of the high table as the feast went on around him. Dyanna had joined her ladies in waiting in a dance, and he watched them laugh among themselves, holding hands as they danced in a circle. Her long, dark hair swayed over her back as they switched directions, and he wondered how he had been so lucky to find a wife such as her.
“You will have to dance at some point.” A voice came from his right, just above him, and Maekar turned to find his eldest brother. Baelor was dressed well, in a rich green for once instead of his usual black. He thought that they might make a colorful pair as his brother pulled out the chair next to him and sat down, as his own wardrobe for the wedding was Targaryen red at his father’s request.
“I will dance with my wife after our wedding.”
Baelor regarded him for a long moment. Finally, he settled a hand on his shoulder and leaned in. “You do not have to be nervous,” he said softly to him, with a conspiratorial smile on his face.
He rolled his eyes and shrugged his brother off. “I am not nervous.”
“It is natural-”
“I am not.”
“Very well. But know that I will be up there with you, as well as our brothers, and everything will be grand. You have much to look forward to.”
He didn’t like talking about this. Baelor had been lost to himself in the past few weeks. He hardly seemed as if he cared about the growing discontent that came from the Great Bastards that flooded the Red Keep. He shook his head and tried to change the subject. “How is Lady Jena?” The maesters said that she could have her baby soon, though none seemed to be able to tell whether that meant within days or within the next cycle of the moon.
Baelor sighed and leaned back. “In pain, today. I must bring the regrettable news to father that she will not be able to attend the wedding. She sends her apologies to you and Dyanna as well.”
Maekar did not think an apology was needed. He shrugged. “She will not want Lady Jena to think her upset. She’s excited to gain a sister and a child to fuss over all at once.”
Baelor smiled at him. “She’s a good woman.” He leaned in to say something else, but a servant hurried up to his side and spoke quietly into his ear. Maekar watched his brother’s face suddenly slide into an impassive mask. At the other end of the table, the same thing was happening with the King. He turned back towards Baelor, who began to rise. “I will you see you tomorrow, I promise.”
“Is everything well?” He almost had an urge to reach out and grab his brother before he could leave, like he used to do when they were children. Something about that cool façade troubled him dearly. It was not the Baelor he was used to.
“It will be.” Baelor beat him to it, and placed a hand on his head, giving his hair a small ruffle as he would have done when they were younger. Maekar ducked away from his hand and frowned at him, but Baelor was already leaving. When he looked at his father the King was still seated and seemed likely to stay there. There was no great threat then. Maekar sank back into his chair and resumed watching the festivities.
That night, the bells ringing woke him. They were loud and incessant, and when Maekar lifted his head he saw that it was still dark outside. His confusion only grew as he stumbled out of bed and into the hall. There were no servants rushing around as if something was wrong. Only his attendant came around the corner, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“What is this about?” Maekar demanded.
“A new prince has been born, m’lord.”
“A new-? Oh, yes.”
“We do not know his name yet, but the word is that he is healthy. The Lady survived as well.”
That was good. Maekar knew his brother would have been devastated if it had gone any other way. In the distance, the bells continued. “Do you know how long that infernal noise is to continue?”
“Not too much longer. King Daeron ordered the announcement as soon as he heard the news. It should be over soon.”
Maekar waved the boy off and turned back to his room with the feeling that something else had just begun. He did not interrogate the feeling too closely, however, as he had a long day ahead of him, and he had to get back to sleep somehow despite the bells.
There was a general buzz in the air at the wedding. It was not just about the marriage anymore; the entire court could not stop talking about the prince born in the middle of the night. It was all Maekar heard as he moved from the castle to the Great Sept. The little prince’s name bounced off of the streets – Valarr, Baelor had called him – and already the whispers had begun. They said the boy was dead, because Baelor still hadn’t stepped out of his private rooms. They said Lady Jena was dead, because her screaming had been so intense. Maekar did not want to be thinking about his brother so much on his own wedding day.
It did not help that once he made it inside of the Great Sept, his brother was nowhere to be found, leaving him to wonder about him more. Aerys and Rhaegel were waiting for him near the statues of The Mother and The Father, but Baelor still had to appear.
“Is it not going to start soon?” Rhaegel remarked, glancing around as the Sept began to fill with spectators. The High Septon was there already, as were the king and queen. His mother approached him as soon as she spotted him and began to fuss around with his belt.
“Where is Baelor?” was the first thing he asked her, with an inquiry to Jena’s health afterwards.
“He is on his way, I’m sure. He was up all night attending to his wife and the little prince.”
If his brother missed his wedding, then he was going to denounce him as family, Maekar was sure of it. Baelor had promised him that he would be there. The Great Bastards had already taken up seats near the front, staring down the family at the altar, and now he was set to face them all on his own. It seemed that Baelor’s promises meant nothing. His words were nothing more than wind, to be thrown out to whatever stupid man that believed them. Maekar had fallen for his brother’s princely charms, and resolved never to let himself do so ever again-
“You nearly missed it!” Rhaegel’s voice cut through his brooding. Their brother grinned down at Baelor as he came quickly towards the altar.
“I would not have for the world,” Baelor announced, climbing up the steps two at a time. He was already slightly out of breath, as if he had just done the same in his haste to get into the Sept.
Once next to him, Baelor grabbed both of his shoulders, then pulled him into a crushing hug. Maekar stiffened, unsure of what had called for such a thing. Baelor hadn’t hugged him since they were boys. “Relax brother,” Baelor laughed, “it is a wonderful day. You’re getting married, and I have a son.”
“Yes, I heard.” He tolerated the hug long enough to please him, then carefully pushed Baelor back. The ceremony was soon to start, and he did not want anyone to see him crushed in a hug from his elder brother. “The bells let us all know during the night.”
“Did they?” Baelor seemed genuinely surprised. “I had not even noticed. Or perhaps I had thought they were in my imagination, oh- I should join our brothers.” He gave Maekar one last pat on the shoulder before he moved to join their brothers at the side. The grin on his face did not leave him. He even received a friendly push forward once the doors opened and the beautiful Dyanna Dayne was announced as arrived. It reminded him that Baelor truly was there, just behind him.
After the wedding was another feast. Baelor approached him just before they left the Sept and apologized that he was going to have to miss it, in his great haste to return to his wife and child. Maekar assured him that his presence would hardly be missed. Baelor only smiled and continued to talk about his son, insisting that he would like Maekar to meet him as soon as possible.
When he relayed this all to Dyanna at the high table they sat at in the feast, she beamed in delight. “I cannot wait,” she said, “I hear he’s the most darling little prince there ever was.”
“Where did you hear that?”
She laughed. “From Baelor. He gave me his and Jena’s regrets as well, and I said he could make it up to us by letting us see Prince Valarr as soon as possible.”
It had to wait until after the festivities, however. With Baelor so occupied, the king now relied on him to take his brother’s place to entertain guests. It was much more of Baelor’s strength, though. The only thing that got him through it was Dyanna, greeting their guests with warmth. She did not mind that some of them played politics around her. She assured Maekar that this was one of the few times they would have to do such a thing, as now the heir had his own heir, and their duties to the kingdom would only be pushed further down the line. That was fine with him. He did not want to have to do anything such as this again.
Finally, the festivities ended on the fourth day. That was when a servant told him and Dyanna that they had been summoned to Baelor’s private rooms. His brother greeted them in the hall, congratulating them once more on the marriage, before he led them inside. Already, Baelor seemed changed. The way he carried himself was different, and his steps slowed to a soft tread as they moved deeper into the apartment. Jena sat in the small sitting room off of their bedroom, reclined on a couch with a bundle of blankets in her arms.
“Jena,” Dyanna gasped, pushing past him so she could hurry to sit next to her goodsister. “What a darling.” It seemed his wife was already besotted. She took the babe into her arms as soon as Jena offered and marveled down at him, telling his mother that he truly was the most precious prince she’d ever seen.
Baelor was staring at him, expectant. He supposed he should at least see the prince. He moved closer to his wife and leaned in so he could see what she was cooing over. His brows shot up in surprise. “A Dornish look?” He regretted that immediately, not wanting Baelor to think he was displeased. But he was just so shocked. When he thought of Jena he thought of a halo of red hair and a freckled face. He had not expected, had not even dared to entertain the thought, that the boy might look just like his brother.
That got a laugh out of Baelor despite his worries, and a quiet one from Jena as well. “I know,” she said, “I went through all that trouble, and he’s nothing but Baelor.”
His eyes searched for a trace of unfamiliarity. It was only the round cheeks of the infant, the newness to his life, that separated him from Baelor. It seemed the prince had inherited nearly all of it. Who was he to do so? This was a baby, he hardly even knew his brother. It didn’t seem fair that he should get to be his twin. And then he awoke with a tiny yawn, eyes blinking open to stare straight up at his face. One light, one dark. “Seven hells.”
“Don’t curse at the babe,” Dyanna scolded him. One of her hands brushed over the dark hair on his head. “You would be a little treasure in Dorne,” she told the baby, smiling down at him.
“And he shall be one here,” Baelor decided. He cut between them and held his hands out, and Dyanna mournfully passed the infant to him. “Would you like to hold him?” he offered to Maekar. Although there wasn’t much of an offer, because Prince Valarr was pushed into his arms before he could politely decline.
The baby was warm through the blankets, and heavier than he thought he was going to be. His eyes, his brother’s eyes, stared up at him in what had to be the pure confusion of a new child passed around among strangers.
“I should like to have one of those soon,” Dyanna said, turning to Jena. “Was it terribly hard?”
“It was torturous.” Jena did look as if she’d been battered, almost. Despite her smile she sported deep bruises under her eyes, and her normally bright face was gray and stretched taught over her bones. “But it was worth it, in the end.”
Baelor bid him to sit and took up a spot on the arm of the chair he chose. He crowded in close so he could reach down and smooth his thumb over Valarr’s brow. Their wives talked on, but Maekar could hardly make sense of the words, because he was too focused on ensuring that he didn’t drop the bundle of blankets. It hardly seemed practical to trust him with such a fragile thing.
“Have Aerys and Rhaegel come?” he asked, once he found his voice past the ringing in his ears.
“They’ve looked on, their wives have held him. Mother and Father have been in and out, as well, but they’ve got other matters to attend to.”
“Yes. Father announced that there is to be a tourney next week to celebrate his grandson’s birth.” In his arms, the infant struggled to free himself of the blankets. “You’ll be in luck, then,” he told Valarr, “you’ll get to see me unhorse your father.”
“Your uncle does not know what he talks about,” Baelor said. “We’ll see him in the dirt soon enough.”
In the end, Maekar found himself champion of the tourney. He considered it a hollow victory, however, because his brother had hardly even tried. While he had defeated two of their father’s dastardly bastard brothers, his own had been distracted throughout their jousts. And when Maekar had unhorsed him, Baelor had only laughed it off. There was no promise of another fight, or a friendly tussle in the castle halls. There was only a smile as Baelor congratulated him, then turned to take his infant son into his arms.
An heir’s first nameday was a very serious affair in the Red Keep. That’s what his mother and father kept telling him. Baelor considered it a splendid thing because it marked one full year with his son. He was not so much wrapped up in the tourney planning as his parents were, and as such left much of the details up to them. All he wanted to do was take the opportunity to put Valarr on his knee and show him off to everyone.
And his brother Maekar was arriving with his own new son. It had pained Baelor more than he cared to admit that his father had not granted him permission to leave King’s Landing as soon as news came that Daeron had been born. Three moons had passed and he still had not met his brother’s child. But Maekar and Dyanna had been summoned back from their new home at Summerhall for Valarr’s nameday.
The news came in just past the sun’s highest height in the sky that Prince Maekar’s party had arrived. They were to clean from their travels in their rooms, allow Daeron to be cared for, and then their son would be presented to the king and queen. Baelor did not want to trouble them while they cleaned up, so he made his way to the throne room once enough time had passed.
There were a few lords and ladies milling about, watching as Prince Daeron was presented to King Daeron and Queen Myriah, and they nodded and smiled at Baelor at his pass through the hall. He took the time to give his introductions as well, but his feet were itching to move on. His father spotted him from the throne and saved him from a talkative Lannister. “Baelor! Have you come to meet your nephew?” he bellowed across the room. Next to him, the bundle in the queen’s arms began to cry, likely startled by the noise.
Baelor grinned and hastened away. His mother made her way down the steps of the throne, giving the babe back to Dyanna, and Baelor found himself stood next to them both.
“He’s quite fair,” his mother remarked as he leaned in and took in Prince Daeron. She was right. Even though his face was reddened from his wailing, his skin was as pale as his brother’s and his hair light, not quite silver. Though he figured that could come in time.
Dyanna tried her best to sooth the boy while she offered Baelor a customary greeting, but he shook his head at formalities and congratulated his goodsister and brother both. “He is a strong one,” Baelor said, watching in a sort of daze as Dyanna handed a calmed Daeron off to Maekar. He had only ever seen his brother with Valarr, for the short time that they had stayed in the Red Keep after their wedding. It was entirely different to see his brother with his own son. Where had his little brother gone so suddenly? How had he grown this much?
They left the throne room, heading instead for Baelor’s private rooms where he promised his brother and his family food and privacy for the time being. “Will the little prince Valarr be there?” Dyanna asked.
“He will. He should be waking from his nap right now. Father tired him out earlier, he had him receiving guests with him in the throne room.”
“On that throne? Is it wise to have a babe his age near all those swords?”
No. But his father was of the mind that the earlier the heir learned how to make his way around the throne, the better. “I do think it drove Jena to a certain kind of madness for a bit,” he admitted. And he had nearly been driven mad as well watching Valarr crawl around amongst the swords.
“It is quite dangerous,” Maekar agreed, and he was surprised at his agreement, before he continued, “I would know. Baelor pushed me into the crop of them when we were children, and I nearly lost a finger.”
“I did not push you, you tripped over your own feet.” They continued to debate who had given who the worst childhood injury while Baelor settled his family in his rooms, urging them to eat the food that had been spread out for them.
He had missed his brother. It was not the same in King’s Landing without him. Aerys kept to his books, and Rhaegel had recently only had a few good days. There were very few people he could trust milling around. But as he watched Dyanna and Maekar look over their little boy, he figured it was for the best that they were able to escape all of the madness in the capital. He would not wish the dredges of politics on his worst enemy, least of all on his favorite brother. And if that meant that he had to take on the weight of the rising discontent, then so be it. At least he had a gentle wife with him, and a perfect little prince.
Jena arrived some time later, and in her arms was that very same sleepy prince. Valarr looked every bit the heir still, dressed up in the red and black outfit his father had shown him off in. Even his hair, mussed from sleep, still held the faint scent of perfume as Baelor leaned in to kiss his temple, and then kiss his wife’s cheek.
“Would you like to meet your cousin?” Jena whispered to the boy, arranging him in her lap as she sat next to Maekar, who still had Daeron in his arms. She held up the babe so that he might see, but Valarr was still tired enough that he turned his face into his mother’s neck, shy at the press of another pair of eyes looking at him.
“What’s this?” Dyanna leaned in from behind them and cocked her head, taking in the silver streak that had appeared in Valarr’s hair.
“Once his hair filled out it appeared with it,” Jena said. “We thought it might take over the whole of his head at first, but it seems to just be a touch of Targaryen on him.”
She was not so sensitive as he was to the whispers around court that Valarr was just another Dornish pretender in line for the throne. But he could not help his sensitivities. This was his son, and that was enough for Baelor to believe that he had earned his place in line for the throne. A touch of Targaryen couldn’t hurt to keep him safe. Baelor brushed his hand over his son’s head, smoothing down the now thick crop of hair.
Dyanna and Jena had been planning on what they were going to do for the festivities, and as such informed their husbands while they tried to entertain Valarr between the two of them. “There is a play we would like to see,” Jena said, waving a rattling toy in the boy’s face, “the Tyrells have brought an acting troupe, and they’re said to be quite good.”
This did not please his brother. He could see it in the way his brow furrowed. “I do not wish to see a play."
Dyanna perked up. “Oh, that is quite alright. We could take a knight of the Kingsguard and attend with our ladies in waiting, and you two could get up to whatever it is that you do when we are not around.”
Baelor knew exactly why they wished to go see this play. He knew, too, that Maekar was in the process of figuring out that there was an ulterior motive. “If it is what you wish,” Baelor assented with a nod.
His wife smiled, and Dyanna nodded along. “We should be getting ready then. Shall we take the children back to the nursery?”
Baelor plucked his boy out of Jena’s hands and shook his head. He hardly ever found as much free time as he would like to spend with his family. “Nonsense. I would like to enjoy my day with my son.” Valarr would not be happy, anyways, at being passed off to a nurse. In his arms, the boy cooed and gave a smile to his mother.
“Send a nurse,” Maekar said. Daeron was awake once more, and though he was generally just huffing in his father’s arms, he was still small enough that any disagreement could set him off.
The women left in a giggling hurry, with a maid trailing after them. Maekar stared at the closed door with his eyes narrowed. “What are they really up to?”
“The play features an actor that many have described as particularly handsome.”
Maekar turned his glare towards him. “An actor?”
“Don’t be so offended. It’s all in good fun.”
“We are confined to the rooms with the children. They are princesses,” his brother grumbled.
“And they are enjoying a play. And he is an actor hired by House Tyrell, there’s very little chance he will want anything to do with either of our wives.”
That at least got a wry chuckle out of Maekar. Their woes were interrupted, however, by Daeron’s sudden sniffling.
“No,” Maekar groaned, already bouncing the baby in his arms in an attempt to stave off the inevitable. “He was just with his nurse, he should not be so upset.” To Daeron he said, “you have nothing to complain about, I assure you.”
Baelor had to stifle a smile, knowing it would only further stoke the flames of his brother’s discontent. In his own arms, Valarr watched with wide eyes as his cousin began to cry up a storm. His son was perfectly well behaved, but even he would eventually be bothered by the wailing.
“I can get him to stop,” Baelor offered.
“Oh, because you’re so bloody perfect at this?”
“I’ve had plenty of practice.” He checked the hall, only finding the Kingsguard out there who looked at him in bewilderment. “And I still do not see a nurse coming,” he said as he stepped back into the rooms.
Maekar frowned down at the baby, obviously conflicted about something. Likely that he needed his older brother’s help. But that was what Baelor existed for.
Baelor held his free arm out. “Let’s trade,” he offered. He watched his brother glance at him, then at the crying baby, before he scowled and agreed. They swapped babes, Valarr leaving his arms first before he took Daeron into them. It was odd to go from his own baby, who he thought was so small, to one that was even smaller.
Daeron’s limbs went askew in his anger, and his cries, while tough on the ears, were nothing that couldn’t be fixed with a little bit of ingenuity. Baelor took a moment first to admire the flash from the past, his brother’s face in baby form once more. He pressed a thumb to his chubby cheek and couldn’t keep the smile off of his face as Daeron’s frustration did nothing but remind him of Maekar’s.
“Could you get the fuck on with it?” His brother spoke up.
Maekar would never get it – not with having no little brother – but it was a blessing to be able to see him once more in his son’s face. Carefully, Baelor shifted the babe into one arm. He put Daeron’s head near his elbow, and laid him out on his stomach on his forearm. His other hand settled on his back, rubbing soothingly as he began to walk about the room with slow, measured footsteps.
When he chanced a glance at his brother, Maekar was watching him with a raised brow. “It works,” he assured him.
A few more passes around did it. Daeron began to change his cries to whimpers, and eventually quieted fully on his arm. Baelor gave him a pat on the back and kept up his slow pacing. He glanced over again and found Maekar staring fully at him with an open mouth.
“I told you so,” he said.
That got him to shut his mouth. The look that passed over his face said enough for Baelor to guess that his brother did not appreciate that. But he still had his baby in his hand, blessedly quiet.
“How did you know that was going to work?”
The smile that graced his face threatened to split it in two. “It’s what the nurses used to do with you, when you fussed.”
He rendered Maekar speechless, which was a rare feat. In his arms, Valarr stretched out his legs and wiggled around. It must have brought him back to sanity, because he finally found his voice again. “You can remember that?”
“Of course I can.” He used to sit in his brothers’ nursery, taking seriously his father’s decree that part of being a good king would be watching out for his family. “You would wail and wail until one of them figured out that you would settle only held like this.”
“That can’t be true.”
“You were but a babe once too, brother.”
Maekar grunted. In his arms, Valarr’s little legs kicked until his feet found purchase on Maekar’s thigh, and he stood with the help of his uncle, hands grabbing for purchase anywhere he could find. Unfortunately, one place was in his brother’s hair. Valarr’s hand took a handful of silver hair and pulled, and his brother hissed, most likely more surprised than anything.
“Gentle, Valarr,” Baelor chided. He broke his pacing so he could rescue Maekar, tugging the little fist away from his hair. “Hold his hands so he can’t use them against you,” he instructed. On his arm, Daeron started to fuss again, so Baelor began to walk in slow circles again.
“And I suppose being the eldest is what gave you all of this nursemaid experience?”
Baelor did not rise to that bait. “Something like that.” He rubbed Daeron’s back again. Already, he missed when Valarr had been this small, nothing more than a bundle of blankets in Jena’s arms. He almost wished they could have another, but her labors had been brutal, and he was not willing to put her at such risk again so soon. And Valarr was more than enough to have.
He would just have to content himself with his brother’s little babe while he could. Daeron fell into a deep sleep on his arm, and he could feel his breaths puffing out against his skin.
It reminded him so much of Maekar as a baby, squirming in the nurse’s arms all the same. Once he would settle down, the nurses would sit Baelor amongst a mound of pillows and allow him to hold the sleeping babe, and he would be fascinated that a brother could be so small. Again, Baelor wondered where that brother had gone.
Here he was again, sleeping on his arm. There he was, sitting in a chair with his own boy balanced on his knee. He had a sudden strong ache to sit with Maekar for ages and take in the sight of him while he still could, before time passed them both by even more. It was bad enough that his brothers had grown at a rapid pace - was he doomed to watch the same thing happen with his own little prince? While Valarr was no longer trying to yank at any stray strands of hair, he did babble along straight into Maekar’s face. His brother looked unimpressed with the story being told to him.
Valarr’s babble took on solid form, and he squealed out a quick, “Papa Papa!” as his little feet stamped all over Maekar’s leg.
“Your father is right there,” Maekar said, pointing to where Baelor was still swaying slightly across the room.
Valarr, being such a quick boy, followed where he pointed, and twisted enough in his uncle’s hold that he caught sight of Baelor once more. The smile that lit up his face was mirrored in his own. “Papa!” he rang out again, giggling in pure excitement.
“Is that the only word you know?” Maekar asked, doing his best to hold the boy steady.
“It is the only word he needs for now. You may set him down if you wish. Perhaps he will attempt to use those feet for the first time.”
It was a lesson they learned well. Never would Daeron, or Aerion, or any of the princes or princesses that came afterwards try to take their first steps on a stone floor, with nothing to balance them and only their fathers to watch.
Valarr was set down. He hung onto his uncle’s knee for a moment, before Baelor crouched and offered encouragement for him to move. He held out his open hand and as soon as Valarr spied him across the room he did indeed move his hands off Maekar and towards his father. Baelor felt his heart burst with pride as his little feet took two stilted steps towards him. Then two more. Then, while he was still so far away, Valarr’s balance left him. His tiny body teetered backwards then forwards, and it was only when Baelor prepared to jump to catch him that he remembered he still had a baby asleep in his other arm, and he could not move so swiftly. He saw, for a second, his precious boy’s face about to collide with the stone floor, before he was caught by Maekar’s quick hands, with his nose near brushing the stone.
They were both quiet. Valarr squealed and kicked his legs, enjoying his new spot suspended midair until Maekar slowly drew him back up.
He caught his brother’s gaze. It looked almost like Prince Daeron’s wide-eyed shock when he’d been wailing. “Best not to tell the wives about that,” Baelor said softly.
They switched babes once more, for Baelor so suddenly and surely wanted his son back in his arms. Valarr giggled and grabbed for his face, while Maekar began to pace with Daeron in his arms. Baelor laid his son on the rug, kneeling next to him so he could free his boy of the booties he knew he did not care for. “Have the bastards done anything of note, lately?” Maekar began, unable to go too long without digging into the King’s business. “You do not say much in your letters.”
“No more than usual. Aegor’s delusions of grandeur persist, but,” Valarr interrupted him then, giving a bright squeal for his father’s attention, “that’s right, Valarr. We shall not let him take your throne.” At Baelor’s voice, the baby lit up. He smiled wide, showing off the three little teeth he had while he kicked his restless legs.
“I don’t think Father understands just how much discontent is growing in the marches,” Maekar said, still pacing around the room.
Baelor cared, of course, but at the present moment his heart only had room for his boy, with nothing left for worries about war. “Father will deal with the lords how he sees fit.” He drew his finger over Valarr’s tiny nose, marveling at how it was nothing more than a button on his face. “And should they try to move against our house, your father will crush them to pieces,” he promised his son. “They will not touch a single hair on your head.” He punctuated every word with a kiss to his cheeks, or his forehead, or his feather-soft hair. “No they won’t, not at all.”
Valarr’s giggles filled the room. His feet kicked in delight, and the giggles turned to screaming laughter as Baelor tickled the bottom of his feet and pretended to eat his impossibly tiny toes.
It never failed to amaze him just how much he could shut out the thoughts that so often plagued him as soon as his son became his focus. His heart felt lighter. His mind cleared. What he had once thought so important faded away to be dealt with later. Valarr had made him appreciate his family even more. Now he knew what was important – it was keeping his family safe. His brothers, his wife, his baby. Baelor was nothing without them. He would be king one day, sure, but what would that mean if he had no one he loved to sit at his side? If he couldn’t watch his son grow up? Or his little brother grow into a father?
Maekar’s boots appeared in his vision as he was nipping at Valarr’s fingers, making the baby’s cheeks turn red with his breathless laughter. He spared a glance up at him, and Maekar gazed down at him with a frown on his face.
“This is beneath you.”
Certainly, King Daeron the Good had never deigned to kneel on the floor with his babes, but Baelor did not care. Daeron’s father had not left him with a good example for fathers. Baelor had much more to work with, to build from.
“You will feel much different when Prince Daeron begins to smile.”
Maekar scoffed and resumed his pacing. “We shall not embarrass ourselves in such a way,” he told the baby in his arms. He could hear the baby waking up once more, and he watched his brother’s eyes go soft as he cradled Daeron in one arm and smoothed his little tufts of hair down with the other. It seemed his brother had found a co-conspirator at least. At least he had someone to listen to his complaints and soothe his ego.
When he glanced back down, Valarr had already rolled over and began to crawl off of the rug, straight towards Baelor’s abandoned hilt and sword. He shot off in pursuit, snatching the boy up before he could get his hands on something he shouldn’t. At least Valarr kept him young. He would need that, he thought, if he was to weather having to watch him grow into a little heir rather than just a regular little boy.