Chapter Text
Maekar’s voice boomed through the solar of your shared apartments as he threw the door nearly off its hinges when he entered, slamming it closed behind him. He had been in a foul mood as of recent, no doubt due to one son or another, and every interaction he’s had with you has been just as despondent as the mood he carried unless he was buried between your legs. Today would be no different as your patience was nonexistent and the heavy babe in your belly left you unable to sleep for near on two nights. To say you were miserable would be an understatement.
After so many years married to the man it was fairly easy to navigate his temperament. You’d been married to Maekar for more years of your life than not, so you knew him like the back of your hand just as he did you.
At ten-and-three and ten-and-four—respectively—you were wed to one another, and just a month after your ten-and-fourth nameday you gave birth to Daeron. In a way you and Maekar grew up with one another, learning to navigate not only marriage, but life and everything it held for you within the courts of the Red Keep until you eventually settled at Summerhall.
Even back then Maekar was a jaded soul in a way only a fourth son could be, anger and frustration clouding his every waking moment making him incredibly hard to love at first, but you tried and tried, ultimately breaking his resolve with a tender hand and a warm embrace. Maekar’s vulnerabilities were seen by you and you alone, and you were more than okay with that.
Maekar wasn’t a terrible man, nor was he a terrible husband, but he had his quirks and one of those quirks was pushing boundaries with you because he could not do it to the people above his station—especially when you lived within the Red Keep in your youths. Most of the time he was a reasonable man, enjoyable to be around you’d go so far as to say, but when his moods hit…gods help anyone unlucky enough to be in his vicinity. They very rarely were directed towards you, but your chambers were a venting place for him to offload when he needed to or else he was liable to swing his mace to fix his problems. That was highly frowned upon within the courts, and so you gave him your ear when he needed it, but other times he seemed to lose himself.
You loved Maekar—you truly did, and you knew he loved you more than you could comprehend, but sometimes…sometimes you weren’t in the mood to coddle him back to a neutral temperament after he had been too tightly wound. Sometimes he needed to brood on his own without pulling you into whatever had soured his disposition, especially in your delicate condition as of present. Unfortunately for him, this was one of those days where you were not giving a single inch for him to take for you had nothing to give.
You yourself weren’t in the finest of moods to begin with—not after the bout you had with Aerion earlier in the morning. Aerion’s defiance had been especially ripe as of late and it took everything in you not to clout the boy upon the ear each time he spoke back to you with nasty sentiments.
It broke your heart to look upon his miserable existence some days because when you did, you only saw the gap-toothed, happy boy he used to be. You saw the boy Daeron would take fishing at the pond just outside of Summerhall’s walls, though the older brother held no interest in it. It was very clear early on that Daeron held no interest in things boys his age typically did, but he did them with Aerion because he took his duties as an older brother seriously, at least back then. They were close once—very much so—and your heart shatters when you are reminded of what’s become of both Daeron and Aerion as they’ve grown into the shadows of the promise they once held.
Not a day went by when young Aerion did not search you out just to give you a hug, or request a kiss upon the tip of his freckled nose, or show you something he found a deep interest in. He would greet your pregnant belly every morning before he spoke to you when you were pregnant with Aemon, gently placing his hand just to the side of your belly button to feel his kicks.
Aerion would demonstrate how well he did in his arms training as he gave you a retelling within your solar with your quill as his sword, and though Maekar wasn’t outward with his approval when it came to any of your children, you knew he loved the boy deeply—he just did not have the means to show it as you did. And he loved Daeron, but there wasn’t a single thing he had in common with the boy as he did with Aerion. What was a father bred for war to do when his son held no interest in even mounting a horse? Maekar was disappointed, you knew, but you begged that he not show it to your eldest. Always touched with melancholy, you did not want to add more reason for Daeron to hold sadness in his blue eyes. The dreams added enough as it was.
Still, you rained praise onto your children, all of them, for skills learned and passions discovered. Your love was bountiful and the well of it never ran dry, perhaps overcompensating for what Maekar refused to show them.
Aerion was easy, loving, and kind as a boy. He followed Daeron as his shadow the second he learned to walk, and he loved Aemon the moment he first saw him, desperate to hold his baby brother when he was merely hours old.
It was Daeron who showed Aerion how to hold Aemon, just as Daeron learned to hold Aerion from you, and the boy of seven held onto every one of Daeron’s instructions so as to not hurt his new baby brother. He searched for your approval before Maekar’s that he was doing it right, and your exhausted smile filled his body with so much joy. It was a clear memory you held close to your heart when the darkness enclosed around you.
“A brother?” Aerion’s lilac eyes shined with happiness when you nodded. “What is he called?” Aerion’s voice held a squeak to it, the slight lisp breaking through his toothy grin. He kept his volume down as much as he could to not disturb his brother, nor you, within the dim confines of the room.
“He’s called Aemon.” Maekar spoke, his hand resting upon Aerion’s small shoulder as he sat beside him on the bed next to your extended legs. Aerion test the name out softly and the babe opened his own lilac eyes to stare up at him curiously.
“I will teach him how to ride a horse and how to fish! Do you think he’d like that?” Maekar chuckled at his son’s eager plans he already held for the infant.
“I think there are many more years before he’ll know what those things are, brother.” Daeron spoke softly as he stood beside you. His hand reached for yours and squeezed it tenderly, as if it was a relief to see you well. Daeron’s tired eyes held dark circles below them, much like yours, and his skin held a violet tint to it. The dreams, you surmised, must’ve appeared again. Aerion’s face fell just the slightest bit at his brother’s words.
“I’m sure he will love to play with you, Aerion. You can teach him all you know. That will be your job as his big brother, just as it was Daeron’s when you were born.” Aerion perked up at your words as he looked down at Aemon’s pouting face. The infant started to fuss in his brother’s arms and the panicked look Aerion shot you made you chuckle, though it caused you to groan pain.
“Your mother needs her rest, as does the baby.” Maekar assisted Aerion in settling Aemon into the bassinet next to the bed, but not before giving the babe a kiss on his forehead with a whispered ‘I’ll see you soon, brother’. Daeron kissed your forehead as well before he departed the room with Aerion in tow.
“Is there anything you need, my love?” Maekar asked, his eyes shining with gratitude as he picked up your hand to kiss the tips of your fingers affectionately.
“Just the comfort of my husband is all I require.”
“Then you shall have all I can give.”
Then it was as if one day that young, happy Aerion was gone, vanished into thin air as if the boy was just a figment of your imagination to begin with. The cruelties your second son now harbored were unlike anything you ever imagined your own child to be capable of, much less using against his own siblings.
It was Maekar and Maekar alone that saved Aerion from your fury when little Aegon fled to your chambers in the middle of the night and told you of what Aerion did to him and to the poor cat your youngest son loved so deeply. There was denial initially, only kept to yourself. You believed Aegon as he would never lie to you—especially about something as serious as Aerion holding a knife to him with the threat of making him a sister so he may finally have a bride worth marrying. It was a turning point for you, as if the mask had finally fallen from Aerion’s visage to reveal who he truly was.
You did not speak to Maekar for nearly a fortnight after Aegon confided in you and he merely sent the boy back to his room, and it had been the biggest fight the both of you have ever had in your long marriage. You would be lying if you said you did not hold the tiniest bit of resentment towards your husband still for his inaction regarding the incident. Two years had passed since then, but the invasive roots hadn’t been plucked entirely, leaving room to regrow once more.
“You cannot always run to Aegon’s defense. The boy must learn to defend himself-”
“-Against his own brother? in the cover of night as he sleeps? Do you hear yourself, Maekar? Have you gone mad?” Maekar narrowed his eyes as he shed his robe and tossed it over a chair near the great hearth in your bedroom.
“Do not speak of madness to me.” He missed, scowling as he drank from the cup at his bedside before sitting down on the edge of the unmade bed.
“Then do not let madness slither into your words, Maekar! The boy is seven! Seven! What lessons were your own brothers teaching you at that age? Surely none with a knife pressed to your stones.” Maekar grunted in irritation as he climbed further back onto the bed, throwing the blankets over his legs as he sat with his back against the ornate headboard.
“Aerion would not have done it.” Maekar looked at you as if you were stupid for even thinking he would. “It is a jest between brothers gone too far and it will be corrected on the morrow. Now, may I get some fucking sleep?” He flattened to scoot down to lay, but your voice stopped him and he dropped his head back in exasperation.
“You are wrong in this, Maekar. This is not a jest and you know it.”
“I know you are too deeply sensitive with these things. You do not understand brothers.”
“Need I? Aegon did not see it as a jest, Maekar. Aerion does not jest. Deny it to me all you wish, but you know this treachery cannot go unpunished. What is to stop Aerion from actually doing as he’s promised? He gelds your youngest son, what then? Will that be enough for you to take action or will that be just another lesson for Aegon to learn?”
“I’ve heard enough of this nonsense!” Maekar’s voice boomed through the room, startling you where you stood. He sat up completely, leveling you with his sternest look. “I will handle this as I see fit. The matter is settled for tonight and I will hear no more of it. Return to bed.” He blew out the chamberstick on his bedside table.
“No,” You remained where you stood, arms crossed tightly over your chest in defiance. Maekar’s jaw clenched. “I will not be silent while my youngest son seeks refuge within my arms because he has been violated by his own brother, nor will I be silent against a son who causes strife and terror at every turn to every member of this household! It is your silence that’s encouraged Aerion to act as he does and your indifference that puts Aegon and our daughters in danger!”
“You see indifference, but I will maintain order within this house. You point your finger, but your coddling has not been to the detriment of any of our sons, wife?” Maekar spat through clenched teeth and eyes full of rage, silver hair mussed from the sleep he was woken suddenly from. “Softness pressed upon each son, and each son became less fitting than the one that came before. It is not a coincidence, I assure you.” Angry tears welled in your eyes as your bottom lip shook. You could see the regret in Maekar’s eyes break through with the subtle shift of his brows, though his pride would not allow him to yield outwardly—it wasn’t in his nature.
“And what of you, Maekar? Hm?” Your voice shook, eyes glittering in the glowing candlelight.
“What of me?” His nostrils flared as his eyes held firm to your shaking form, arms hugging your waist as you stood before the dying fire.
“We’re your brothers coddled, and you left alone to weep in your crib? Is that the difference between you? Why they are kind and you-”
“-Choose your next words wisely.” Maekar’s voice held a dangerous calmness to it, but the frown settling on his lips told you in so many words that you spoke the truth. The words died on your tongue, though new ones arose. You swallowed thickly, trying to compose yourself.
“A hardened man, sworn to protect his family, but will not do so much as protect his own son?” The words held the effect you intended. Maekar looked as if he had been hit with his own mace wielded within your hand. His jaw dropped just a fraction, his brows previously furrowed in anger now fell in devastation. His lilac eyes fell from you and to the fire behind you. Your chest heaved as you tried to steady your breaths, but the pain in your heart was too much to bear.
“If Aegon cannot trust us to protect him, then we have failed, Maekar. I really hope, through the blindness of your own pride, you understand that.” Maekar watched your every movement as you tied the stays of your silken robe and slippers before taking a lit chamberstick within your hands and making for the door.
“Where are you going?” Maekar’s voice barely cut through the thick silence that filled your chamber to the brim. You made sure to turn fully so he could see the disappointment shining in your eyes. You would not share a bed with him, not while anger and shame bubbled within you.
“You wish to not speak of this any longer? Fine, I shall not speak at all.” The latch of the door was quiet behind you and you stood on the other end for a brief moment, a hand pressed to your trembling mouth to stifle the sobs that escaped.
The guard across the hall did not make eye contact with you as he stood at his post diligently, though he did watch your retreating form disappear at a junction that led to the eastern apartments of the keep.
Your feet led you to Aegon’s room that night, though they made their way slowly in the hope that your tears would dry before you reached his door. As you wallowed, it seemed your tears were endless. The guard posted outside of his room, at your insistence after the earlier debacle, acknowledged you with a nod before you let yourself inside.
A small gasp echoed in the room and when your candlelight revealed the glint of a small blade shaking in young Aegon’s hand, you broke.
“My son!” You sobbed as he jumped out of bed, dropping the blade onto the feather mattress in his rush to run towards you. Placing the chamberstick on his desk, you wrapped your arms around him tightly, holding him to you in fear he would disappear.
“Mummy,” He wept into your robes. “I am sorry for waking you and father. I did not mean for you to fight! If I had known he would yell at you, I wouldn’t have said a thing at all. I swear it! I’m sorry!” His pleas broke your heart further as his little hands gripped the fabric at your hips.
“Shh, my darling.” You kneeled down to his height and held his little, round face in your hands. Your thumbs wiped the tears that fell and he tried to hide his face from you, the voice of his father in his mind telling him that boys, princes of the realm, didn’t cry—especially into their mother’s skirts, but your hands held him firmly in place so he could not shy away in shame. “It is I who needs to apologize, my boy. As long as I draw breath, you will come to me and I will protect you. Your father does not scare me, no matter how loud he yells, so do not worry about me, little prince. Do you understand? Never fear doing the right thing, though it may feel scary.”
“I did the right thing?” He sniffled as he tried to keep his mouth from wobbling with a tight frown.
“Yes, you did and I am so very proud of you for it.”
As of late, Aerion had taken to harassing the servant girls that tended to his chambers, so much so that they sought you out in hopes you’d put a stop to it so that they may do their duties without fear of punishment for not only being able to complete the tasks assigned, but for also trying to dissuade his unwanted advances.
“They are whores, mother.” He popped a piece of citrus into his mouth, chewing slowly as his eyes followed the serving girl as she took her leave of the sunroom you usually broke your fast in. He eventually looked over to you, unblinking, when she was out of his sight. “Why do you bother with their complaints?”
“They are not whores, Aerion.” You spat, sighing heavily as you placed your fork down with more force than you wanted to show. Your lower back aches terribly and the babe seemed to shift every time you got comfortable. Aerion’s eyes followed your hand as it met the curve of your belly, mindlessly rubbing to sooth the babe within. “They are not here for your entertainment, nor are they here for you to torment. Their complaints have merit that I shall not be turning a blind eye to. I’ll not have my son defiling anyone within these walls, am I understood?” You held his stare, unyielding in whatever little game had had going on in his head. After he realized you would not relent, Aerion was the first to cut eye contact as he shifted in his chair. “I mean it, Aerion. Perhaps you should join your brother in Oldtown to get your priorities in order, hm? A more structured regiment would do you well since you do not seem to be able to handle your daily duties on your own without making a mockery of your lineage.” He knew you’d make good on your threat, but he couldn’t, for the life of him, keep his mouth shut.
“And what do you know of my lineage? What do you know of dragons? Of conquering?”
“I know enough to know you are but a boy trying to find his place in a world he is unsatisfied with.” You understood his restlessness. Had your family squandered dragons you might be buried in it as well, but it didn’t matter, not in the grand scheme of it all.
“This is not the behavior of a dragon, my son. It is that of a dog, begging for scraps on the streets. You are above this.” You shook your head, rubbing at your temple where you could feel a tension headache building. “Is it attention you crave? Perhaps it is time you take a wife.”
“No, there are none worthy.” He said as if he had the option to refuse. His nose twitched as he placed a grape into his mouth. You barked an unladylike laugh, startling the boy across from you. The same scowl that appears upon Maekar’s face was mirrored on Aerion’s. “What is funny?” You could see the hurt in his eyes very clearly. Aerion was a young man tainted in darkness, but he was still a boy underneath who craved your approval more now than he ever did before. He just chose to hide it now, but it did creep out just as it had in that moment.
“None are worthy?” Shaking your head, you pushed your plate away from you, the spread as well as the company turning your stomach. “You think there is a list of eligible young maidens fighting to be at your side?” Your tone was downright mean, but he needed to be told hard truths.
“None will have you, Aerion! You made sure your reputation all but guaranteed it.” Aerion’s composure slowly chipped away as he slouched further into his chair, picking at his fingers. “You may be a prince of the realm, but there aren’t so many fathers cruel enough to send their daughters to certain doom where you are concerned. Had you been a son of Baelor’s maybe, but not the second son of a fourth son, I assure you. You hold the title of Prince and nothing more, so I would say an easy temperament is favorable when there is so little else to offer.” Aerion’s jaw clenched as his eyes dropped to the table, his fist clenching next to his cup. His teeth worried his bottom lip as he took in your words.
“You’ve made your point, mother.” He spat, anger taking over his features.
“I do not say these things to hurt you, my son, but you are so young, and your father and I will not be around forever to save you from the self-destruction you crave. There will come a time when you have only enemies around you, and it will be of your own doing.”
“I’ve never asked you to save me from anything.” He mumbled it, but his glassy eyes never met yours as they lowered back down to your protruding belly. It was a glimpse of the meek boy Aerion hid within himself trying to fight back.
“You did not need to.” You sighed with fatigue, your face softening as you looked upon him. “I know you wished things were different than they are, how you could’ve hatched a dragon within your crib or claimed one within the Dragonmont as would’ve been your birthright. Whether you believe it or not, I do understand you.” Aerion’s eyes met you once more and the tension between his brows lessened.
“You long for the same things your father, his father, and his before were all denied. It is cruel, but the fact of the matter is…this is what we have. This is what is left of the Targaryen dynasty. And I am sorry for it, truly, but what’s been done cannot be undone—the damage too far great to hold onto the past. All you have is the legacy, and while you may not have a dragon, their blood—the blood of Old Valyria—runs through your veins. I know you feel it.”
“It is not unreasonable to wish for something more when it has been given to those before you and they have squandered it. You, as a son, can either add further shame and turmoil to it, or you can rebuild upon it because that is all that you can do as your father’s son. As the King’s grandson. Your place matters in all this, but you must be wise about the decisions you make, Aerion.” He chewed on your words for a moment, got a good mouthfeel, then scoffed as he crossed his arms over his chest before that bored look overtook his features once more.
“You wish me docile, pliable in your hands? Would you love me then? Should I bury myself in my cups as Daeron does, useless to all around him, so you may dote on me as well? Or would that not be enough for you to look upon me favorably?” Aerion looked down upon his eldest brother, it was no secret. Daeron took no offense to it—he just simply did not care. Aerion’s deep resentment towards Daeron never made sense to you, but as Aerion spoke, things became clearer “Am I so unlovable as I am?”
“I love you now, you fool, just as I always have.”
“Not the way you used to.” A frown hung heavy on his lips as he stared at you with discontent.
“I love you as my son and that is all I can do.”
“You never even asked me about it.” He tapped his fingertip on the table, mouth twitching uncomfortably.
“Do not, Aerion.” You warned with a point of your finger. “What’s done is done and I will not dwell upon it any longer. Aegon wishes it forgotten and I’ve lost enough sleep over what transpired.”
“You took his side and shunned me without ever asking me if it was the truth!” Aerion spat out, indignant fire overtaking his eyes as they continued their stare.
“I did not need to.” You spat back. “I did not need to ask because I already knew what you were capable of, Aerion, and that instinct hurt me as your mother, as your champion your entire life, more than anything you could’ve ever done.” Your mouth trembled as you inhaled deeply. “But for the sake of this petty squabble, I will ask—did you do it?” Aerion’s eye twitched and his silence spoke louder than his confession ever could.
“You think I do not love you, but I can only hold love for you no matter how hard I’ve tried not to.” Aerion’s demeanor shattered at your own confession. It was the closest thing to remorse you’ve ever seen him present.
“From your very first breath I have only held love for you, Aerion. Even now, when I look at you, I do not see what others do.”
“The monster, as you’ve put.”
“I see my little boy who loved so deeply and cared. I see the boy who used to greet me every morning as the sun rose because he wanted to be the first to do it. And now, I see the shadow of that same little boy, burned to cinders—doomed to never smile or feel joy or love again as a man sits before me wearing the mask of a face I no longer recognize.”
“That boy is gone.”
“I know.”
“And I will not beg for your affections that are owed to me.” The defiance wormed its way back in, latching insidiously within him.
“Just as you are not begging now?” You did not bother to wipe your tears. “What am I to do, Aerion? My love is yours and it is not enough to keep you from going astray.”
You stood, putting an end to the conversation. Straightening the front panel of your gown, you walked around to Aerion’s side of the table. Your hand cupped his jaw to tilt his head up to look at you as you spoke. “I mean what I say, Aerion. Any more of these indiscretions and I will drag you to Oldtown myself where you will be chained to a maester’s desk for the remainder of your days to toil amongst tomes and quills.” You leaned down to place a motherly kiss upon the crown of his head and you felt him nuzzle his cheek to your stomach as his hands held your waist. You murmured your plea into his cropped hair, “Please do not force my hand.”
That is how you spent your morning, reeling in the anger you know Aerion thrived on as he tried to goad you with indifference to his actions. Now, on the opposite end of the Targaryen spectrum, Maekar outwardly goaded for a reaction from you—anything to get this fuse within him to blow.
“Are you quite finished?” Your tone was bored, and though you didn’t see it, you knew his right eye twitched as he watched you from where he was leaning against the windowsill.
“Am I fucking finished?” The scorn within his voice was well worn on his face, you knew, but still you didn’t give him the reaction he was looking for. The men of this line would get no satisfaction from you on this day if you had a say in it.
“Seems not,” You said under your breath with an unimpressed raise of your brows as you went back to your needlework. “Carry on, then. You were shouting something about fucking good for nothings, though I could not hear the context through the spittle that joined the words.”
“Am I fucking finished?” He repeated, beside himself. “No, I am not fucking finished, and you will give me your attention when I’m speaking to you, wife.” Ah, his pride was hit before he even entered the room, you noted.
“I will not.” You said simply, needle going back and forth through the hooped fabric. “You clearly have much to say, but I do not care to listen when your intention is to merely screech in my ear for the sake of it instead of airing your grievances so that I may be of assistance.” Maekar’s hand clenched at his side in frustration. “If you wish to throw a tantrum, I will treat you as I have treated our children—with silent indifference until they tire themselves out. Perhaps a nap will do you some good, or a light snack if that is what’s causing your foul mood.”
“You think this is funny?”
“Am I laughing?” Your voice remained even, but the corner of your mouth tilted up just enough for Maekar to suck air in through his teeth.
“Do not mock me!” The shouting returned and with it came a very visible roll of your eyes. “I am your husband.” Maekar’s voice quieted when he caught himself, the same hurt clouding his voice as it did Aerion’s earlier in the day. The father and son were much more alike than either cared to admit, but you saw it firsthand in both.
It was rare for Maekar to be on the receiving end of your foul mood as you were nearly unbothered by just about anything, but it seems he would meet his match on this day and he didn’t seem so bold anymore.
“Then act like it, my Prince. Act as my husband and not a petulant child.” Still, you did not look at Maekar and it infuriated him. “When you are like this it is easy to see why Aerion acts out as he does. His father clearly sets his example.”
“You go too far.” You slammed your needlework onto the low table before you and stood with difficulty, a scowl matching his own as you stalked towards your brooding husband.
“We’ll go on, then.” Your hands grasped either side of his face in a firmer grip than he was anticipating, your fingers snagging his neatly combed beard in the process causing him to wince. Maekar’s silver brows were pinched together, the fine lines in his forehead more pronounced as he allowed you to manhandle him reluctantly. “You have my attention, Maekar. That is clearly what you’ve wanted, isn’t it? So do what you came in here to do—yell, shout, rage! Throw things for all I care!” You pulled his face down closer to you. His lilac eyes wide as he took your verbal lashings. “I am not the reason for your ire, but I must bear the brunt of it. Is that it?” Maekar’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed.
“Have you lost your mind?” It was the first thing out of his mouth and the words were more of a whisper than anything else.
“I would like to finish my day in peace, Maekar, and if you are not here to bring the peace, then be gone with you, and do not return until your senses have come back with you.”
“My love-”
“Out!” You pointed to the door in dismissal before retreating back to the sofa to pick your needlework back up without another word. Maekar still stood at the window, eyes wide in shock at your outburst.
“I-”
“Out!” You demanded in an echoing boom. Not wishing to cause you more distress, Maekar tucked his tail between his legs and did as you asked. Before you could stop them, tears fell from your eyes and you sniveled on that sofa as your fingers worked diligently on the task in your hands until the blur in your eyes caused you to prick your finger. The hoop was tossed in frustration and you allowed yourself to cry in solitude.
It was well into the night before Maekar slipped back into the bedroom with the hope that you were already asleep. He should’ve known that hope evaded the dwellings of Summerhall, just as it evaded him.
“For your sake, I hope you're in better spirits.” You spoke from the bed as you watched the hearth dance from underneath the covers. Maekar walked to your side of the bed and sat on the edge. His hand reached for yours and you allowed him to take it.
“I lose myself at times and place my frustrations onto you.” He confessed.
“You do.”
“And that usually is not a problem.”
“Usually.”
“But today it is.”
“Yes.” He nodded at your answer, blinking to himself as he thought for a moment. Maekar’s other hand ran itself over the plane of your body above the blanket, from your waist down to your thigh before retracing back and forth. It was something he knew brought you comfort in the height of this pregnancy, just as it had for the previous six.
“Okay.” He said simply, letting himself just exist in your space for a moment before he stood to dress down for the night. You let your eyes wander to him, appreciating his build as it was revealed to you with each piece of his ensemble that was removed and draped over the back of a chair. Adorned in just a pair of sleep trousers, Maekar climbed into the bed. He waited for you to turn over before reaching for you.
“Something is different.” He spoke, his voice crackling as he tried to keep his volume down. “Daeron lingers, and though I try to ignore him, it worries me.” Maekar’s admission only served to confirm the tight feeling you’ve held in your chest ever since the Abe inside of you moved for the first time. Daeron does not linger in the keep unless there is reason to.
“I have not seen him.” You sighed into Maekar’s bare chest as you let the warmth of his flesh bring you comfort. Your belly rested against his side and he felt the kick just as you shifted to get comfortable. A tight smile graced his lips at the feeling, a simple joy that he never got tired of.
“I cannot find the damned boy when he’s needed and now he cannot seem to get out from under my boot at every turn.” He murmured into your hair as he kissed the top of your head, stroking his fingers up and down your arm out of habit.
“Do you think he’s-”
“-No.” Maekar didn’t let you finish your question. He knew what you were going to ask, and the thought passed through his mind as well—though he would never admit it to you. With every pregnancy came fear for Maekar because he knew just how precariously you were balanced before the gods each time you were on your birthing bed. A brief moment of silence blanketed over you both as you held one another in the quiet comforts of your bed.
“This one feels different.” There was fear tingeing your voice and Maekar felt sick to his stomach. You peered up from his chest, the same look swirled in your eyes just as he’d seen in Daeron’s that same night.
“Do you feel something wrong?” He questioned, trying to get you to talk.
“I do not know.” You admitted and Maekar felt you sag against him. “I felt hope and light with all the others, excitement even.” You spoke quietly as you ran your fingers over the sparse, silver hair that peppered Maekar’s chest. “But with this one…I feel only despair and misery. Darkness. Nothing was wrong with the others, and they were all happy children.” You looked up at Maekar once more with eyes shining. “Is it my womb that cursed them so? And does this babe know it before it’s even born?” Maekar’s eyes closed when your voice cracked in agony.
“No.” Maekar was insistent as he took your cheek within his massive, rough palm. “If there is blame to be had, it lies with me and me alone. I know this and cannot face it. You’ve taken the brunt of many things within our marriage, but you will not take this. I forbid it.” He blinked quickly as anxiety filled his chest.
“It is close and I haven’t even thought of a name. It is all so very strange, Maekar. It all doesn't feel quite right, not as it’s been before.” Maekar sighed, though it held no malice. Desperate to turn you from the darkness, he tried to give you a distraction—as feeble as it was.
“Perhaps you are just in need of some fresh air, hm? Just me and you tomorrow, how does that sound?” Maekar suggested.
“What of your duties?”
“Fuck my duties, if just for a day. My wife’s comfort and well-being take priority over deciding which cow belongs to which fucking farmer since one cannot seem to build a proper fucking fence. Nuisances, the lot of them.” This got a chuckle out of you and it made him grin just the tiniest bit.
“If that’s the case, then I do suppose some fresh air would help.”
“Then it’s settled.” You tilted your face up and Maekar automatically met you in the middle for a goodnight kiss. “Sleep well, my loves.” His hand rested on curve at your ribs where the babe typically came to be at night. The gentle movements below lulled him to sleep and for the first time in days, you were able to close your eyes peacefully.