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Shireen stood before the heavy wood doors and cast a glance back at Davos.
“I think I’ll go in by myself,” she whispered and he nodded his hand, rubbed her shoulder in a gesture of comfort before stepping back.
It wasn’t every day your father passed away and you were forced to search his office for his will. Of course, Davos had offered and Shireen was almost half ready to accept. She wasn’t ready to do this and she definitely wasn’t ready for someone else to go through her father’s possessions. She may not have been horribly close with the man, but that didn’t mean a stranger had any right to go through his private office.
Opening the door, Shireen slipped in. The heavy doors closed soundly behind her and Shireen’s nose was instantly hit with the smell of candle wax, dust and old books. It was familiar but only because her own room smelled like that. Maybe she and her father hadn’t been so vastly different like she had thought growing up. Then again, she wouldn’t really know. He practically kept himself locked in his office, busy with work and Shireen hardly knew him. He barely even let her into his office, let alone his life.
As she stepped further into the office, Shireen was hit with faint memories of when she was younger, sitting on her father’s lap while he worked and she watched him. It was a fond memory but time had made it weaker and harder to remember the details and specifics.
Signing heavily, Shireen approached the desk. It was overflowing with papers and Shireen couldn’t remember a time when it wasn’t. She wasn’t even sure what the top of her father’s desk looked like. She wasn’t sure he’d ever seen the bottom.
But that didn’t matter now. Instead, Shireen busied herself with shuffling through his papers, building plans, contracts, letters, invoices, correspondences, journals, scattered books and articles. It was nearly overwhelming, especially if any of it mattered anymore but it didn’t. Shireen would liquidate the business, sell his assets and move on with her life. She didn’t have an interest or background in being an architect. Not after seeing how it consumed her father’s life.
She must have spent hours searching the office but came up with no will, no personal document, nothing. Just a bunch of junk and business papers. It didn’t really matter in the end, her father’s will. Even if he left her nothing or he didn’t have one to begin with Shireen was fine leaving it all behind. But she owed it to everyone else that wanted a piece of the Baratheon legacy. She was half tempted to forge something and leave everything to her uncle Renly.
Shireen moved away from the overflowing desk and cabinets toward the bookshelf. One of the really solid connections Shireen had to her father was their mutual love for knowledge. Of course, her love came from a place of comfort and solace where her father was so focused in business and making a legacy that knowledge was a necessary tool. However, Shireen smiled softly at the Jules Verne novels on the top shelf of his bookcase, along with the few Baratheon relics from his father’s family line.
Pushing the book ladder over, Shireen climbed to the top and grabbed the most worn book from the collection. Around the World in 80 Days had been a bit of a common love between the two of them. Unlike most children who got read silly little fables and fairy tales, her father had read Shireen this book countless times all the while bringing in hundreds of doctors to make sure her disease didn’t spread. There was no doubt there was love between them, but Stannis Baratheon had always been a hard man, through and through.
Beside the book was a vase. Shireen inspected it carefully, looking out the outer painted decor of bare tree forest and howling wolves. It was unlike the thousands of other Baratheon relics, all of which were stamped with stags with mighty antlers. Puzzled, Shireen traced the wolf with her finger and when she lifted away, she found her finger covered in a thick film of dust. Grabbing the vase, Shireen brought it down the ladder with the book to clean. She decided that the search for her father’s will could wait. She was going to do some cleaning, maybe read a little bit and then go back. Besides, she told Davos she wanted to peace and quiet and he promised to leave her until dinner. She had all the time in the world.
Grabbing a couple tissues from the desk, Shireen dusted off the vase until the dust was mostly gone and it was shining brightly in the afternoon light. Setting the vase down, Shireen turned to go sit on the armchair in the far corner of her father’s office when she heard a loud yawn.
Whipping back around, Shireen shrieked at the sight of a young man leaning against her father’s desk. In his hands was the vase she had just wiped clean. His eyes, blue and wild, were locked on hers and he had a playful smile on his face.
“Who the hell are you?” she yelped, clutching her father’s book to her chest but equally as ready to chuck it at the man in the room.
“They call me Rickon,” he smiled, but it wasn’t all that kind. He cocked his head to the side; let his eyes travel up and down her form before sighing, “You called?”
“I didn’t,” Shireen backed up carefully toward the exit of the office.
‘Rickon’ cocked an eyebrow and held up the vase. “Yeah.” He tossed the vase from one hand to the other, carelessly playing with it but never dropping it. “You did.”
“I don’t even know who you are!”
“Whose fault is that?” he asked, stopping his fiddling of the vase and setting it down. “Alright, so what do you want?”
Shireen stared at him in confusion. “Excuse me? First, you break in here and now-”
“Oh, hang on,” he rolled his eyes. “I didn’t break in here. Okay? Let’s just get that straight. I was living happily in my home-” Shireen blinked as he gestured to the vase “-and you came around and summoned me and now I’m just trying to get my job done, okay? So what? You want money? Fame? Pretty boys to like you?” he paused and smirked. “Pretty girls to like you?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Shireen tried to mask her horror and confusion.
Rickon seemed to be getting more frustrated, cursing quietly under his breath before taking a deep breath. “I am a genie and I am here to grant you wishes. You rubbed the vase,” he held it up and mimicked the gesture, “and there for summoned me. Now, you’ve seen Aladdin, right? You know how this goes. Three wishes and then we are done. Clean and simple. Now hurry it up.”
“A genie?” Shireen raised an eyebrow. “You expect me to believe that?”
“Make a wish and see,” he challenged back, crossing his arms.
Shireen huffed. She knew she should yell for Davos. She knew she shouldn’t be playing along but the fantastical side of her, the side that loved mysterious and fantasy and reading books of the impossible was intrigued. “Fine, find my father’s will,” she rolled her eyes and watched him skeptically. Shireen would have been more scared of the guy if he actually looked threatening. Shireen was nearly half convinced she could take him.
“Is that…you know what? Never mind, I don’t care. Fine,” Rickon waved off and closed his eyes. Opening them, he smirked at her. “Okay, I found it.”
“Where is it?” Shireen asked, eyes flashing.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Rickon gasped. “You asked me to find it. You didn’t ask for me to give it to you. Semantics, honey. Got to use them carefully.” He paused, looked at her again and sighed. “Here.” He held out his hand and in a whirl of black smoke, a sealed envelope was in his hands. Shireen stared in disbelief. “Free of charge, this time,” he warned carefully.
With shaking fingers, Shireen took the envelope from his hands and opened it. Sure enough, inside, tucked away was her father’s will; dated from six months ago, because of course, Stannis Baratheon was a man who updated his will yearly. She looked up at apparent genie stunned but only met his bored appraisal.
“That was-”
“Amazing?” Rickon grinned happily.
“Yeah,” Shireen looked down at the will for a moment before slipping it into the front cover of her book and looked back to the genie. “So, I have two more wishes?”
“Unless you ask for more,” Rickon groaned.
“You mean I can?” Shireen asked confused. That’s not how it worked in Aladdin.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t you be able to? Genies make their own rules, but you know, think it carefully. Asking for more wishes means you lose something in return.” Rickon shrugged. “It’s a give-take system. I don’t really get it but that’s how it works so you just get used to it.”
Shireen didn’t like the sound of that and honestly, Shireen didn’t want anything. She didn’t want to wish for money or more wishes or anything but she didn’t necessarily want to throw away the other two she had.
“Do I have to use them now?” Shireen asked carefully.
Rickon stared at her for a moment before laughing and Shireen was…lost. The redhead cackled, laughing at high volumes and doubled over. Shireen wasn’t even sure what to say but there really wasn’t room to put a word in. It wasn’t until he quieted down and saw her expression that he stopped. “Wait, you’re serious? You can’t think of two more things?” When Shireen shook her head the genie laughed again. “Y-You wanted your father’s will and that’s it? No other desires I can grant you?”
“I want to savor them,” Shireen whispered, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
Rickon’s smile completely dropped and he nodded his head. “As you wish.”
Shireen watched as Rickon stared at her expectantly and the silence drifted between them. “…Are you going to get back in the vase?”
Rickon glared at her and cradled the vase close to his chest. “No. I don’t get to go back until you’ve made your wishes.”
“Well, what the hell am I supposed to do with you?” Shireen yelped in frustration. Like she didn’t have enough on her plate.
“I guess you’ll just have to keep me around,” he shrugged carelessly before adding, “Don’t worry, you’ll barely notice I’m here.”
Shireen was half-struck with the thought that maybe she wouldn't mind it that much, having someone around. She had spent so much of her childhood alone, staring at the large wooden doors of her father’s office that maybe having someone else around wouldn’t be that bad. Even if it was half against his will, Shireen was certain Rickon had fantastic stories to share and Shireen would love to learn more about genies and wishes and maybe this arrangement wouldn’t be so bad.
“However,” Rickon broke her train of thought, “if I’m going to be out of the vase for a while, I’d like to get something to eat. Twenty years stuck in that damn thing and I’m a bit hungry.”
For the first time in a while, Shireen’s face split into a soft smile and she nodded her head, already running through a thousand and one ways to explain this to Davos.