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Baelor's predicament started on a normal night.
It came in the form of his baby brother, covered in mud as he climbed into Baelor's bed to wake him up. He'd been out in the gardens, he'd said, looking for the frog that tried to bite him the day before.
Baelor had questions, but he wasn't sure if he wanted any of the answers. Instead, he sighed, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and called for a bath to be brought to Maekar's chambers. Before hurrying off, the servant asked if she should call for one of the nursemaids to handle the boy. Baelor considered it, but then Maekar's hand tightened on his own, and he looked up at him with his big, pleading eyes, and Baelor couldn't turn him away.
He led Maekar back to his chambers himself. He got him cleaned and dried and dressed in fresh clothing before he tucked him back into his bed.
For a moment, he'd considered trudging back to his own room and having a servant change his mud covered bedsheets, but then he looked at the clean, warm bed in front of him, and he couldn't bring to mind any good reason as to why he should go through such trouble. He climbed under the covers and was glad at his decision when Maekar's eyes lit up with excitement as he realized Baelor intended to stay.
"A sleepover?" he'd asked.
"Well, you got my bedsheets all muddy, so I'm afraid you're stuck with me until the servants change my bedding in the morning," Baelor said, holding back his own grin when Maekar's face broke into a wide, gap-toothed smile.
Maekar tucked his head under Baelor's chin and curled into him, grabbing a fistful of Baelor's tunic in his little hand. Baelor laid still and listened as the breathing on his neck evened out to soft snores. The hold on the tunic stayed, even as his body relaxed into sleep.
It became a routine over the weeks that followed. Every evening, after the servants had retired for the day, Maekar would sneak into Baelor's chambers to dirty the bed. The method varied night by night. Sometimes it was the mud, sometimes food or drink he snuck from the kitchens, and one particularly unpleasant night it was a headless rat he managed to catch from the halls.
Regardless, each night when Baelor returned to his chambers to sleep, he was greeted with a soiled bed.
He never complained nor commented on the matter. He simply walked the short distance to Maekar's chambers and climbed into the waiting side of the bed. He'd look at his little brother, face scrunched in pretend sleep, and bid him a goodnight before closing his eyes, waiting patiently for the boy to shuffle over and curl into his side.
It was nice, he supposed, in a way. The excuse for proximity, watching the barely contained smile on Maekar's face as he faked sleep, the way rest came easier to him in the past weeks than it had in years. Maekar would grow tired of the game before long, and until then, Baelor would allow this indulgence.
Several weeks passed like that, and the newness of the routine slowly faded. Baelor no longer spent the days wondering whether or not he would return to his chambers to find a dirty bed, it simply grew to be something expected.
Nearly a full moon's turn after that first night, Baelor was roused by a servant. The first thing he registered was the small hand holding onto a fistful of his hair, and the second was the late morning sun shining onto his face. He squinted his eyes open and found the room far brighter than he'd grown accustomed to waking to.
Carefully, he pulled his hair free from Maekar's fist and slid out of bed. He was mindful not to disturb the boy's sleep when he still had time to rest. He always took his breakfast late, and his lessons didn't start until midday.
He dismissed the servant and hurried to his chambers. He prepared himself for the day with haste and headed to the dining hall. He slowed to a controlled pace as he got to the busier areas of the castle. It wasn't seemly for a prince to be seen rushing.
His parents were sat at the table, plates already half empty by the time he arrived. He bowed his head in greeting before joining them. Baelor noted the way his parents' had fallen quiet, their conversation halted by his entrance. There was an unnerving quality to the silence, not one of comfort but of someone withholding their words until the correct moment arrived.
A man quickly arrived to set a plate and cup in front of Baelor. He worked with efficiency as he piled food on the plate at Baelor's direction and poured his drink. When he finished, Baelor gave him leave and the man swept away with the same swiftness as he had arrived in. Finally, with the servants hovering no longer, his mother's spoke.
"You weren't in your room this morning."
It was a simple observation, kept brief and plain in the same fashion she used to speak with visiting lords.
"No," he agreed. He took a bite, giving himself a moment to arrange his reply. "Maekar had a nightmare. He couldn't fall back asleep, and he wished for my company."
"Has he been having these nightmares often? The servants inform me that you haven't been in your bed in weeks."
Baelor's hand stilled briefly, mid raising his cup to his lips. It was nothing more than a slight stuttering of movement, corrected quickly enough that an untrained eye wouldn't have taken notice. The two of them easily caught it.
"I believe so, yes."
He fashioned his reply in the same shape as his mother's, brief and simple, giving nothing away without being asked.
"It is sweet that you care for him so much." She smiled, a trained expression, before taking a sip from her cup. "I will instruct the maester to deliver him sleeping droughts before bed. That should ward off his nightmares. You needn't worry yourself of it any longer."
Baelor didn't reply immediately. He knew an open protest would not be accepted, but he didn't want to let the matter settle at that. He worked to form an excuse, a justification as to why the sleeping droughts wouldn't suffice, something sound enough that she wouldn't see reason to insist.
"You coddle him too much," she continued, cutting off his protest before it even took shape on his tongue. "He can be… manipulative, if you give him such room for it. I do not wish to distance the two of you, I only wish to remind you of your place. You are the heir, Baelor. Your rest is more important than the boy's bad dreams."
The urge to argue still sat eagerly on his tongue, but her words held a finality to them, effectively ending the conversation.
"Yes, mother."
She nodded before turning back to his father, continuing their conversation from before he entered. He sat quietly as he worked at his plate. He pondered her words, turning them carefully in his head.
Manipulative.
Maekar wasn't manipulative, was he? It was only natural for a child to seek out comfort during the night. He could remember himself creeping into his parents' chambers when he was younger, startled by shifting shadows and creaks echoing through the halls. Though, he supposed that was different than what Maekar did.
It was a difficult picture to reckon with. He was no stranger to the cruelties of children, the way many of them attempted to trick and scheme to get their way, but he could not see those traits in Maekar. The boy had his share of ill moods, and he got into plenty of mischief, there was no denying that, but Baelor had never seen him stray towards such nastiness in the way other boys did.
His Maekar picked flowers for their mother and wished only to be held close as a babe. He got teary eyed when the older boys refused to play with him. He needed only a gentle hand and soothing words to calm his misbehaviors. He was fiery and strong, but he was also caring and sensitive.
What side of him did their mother see that Baelor did not?
The words continued to weigh on him throughout the day, sitting uncomfortably in his chest.
Maekar and manipulative were not two words he felt should ever be put side by side, but the more he sat with it, the less certain he felt in dismissing his mother's point. He still wouldn't use such a word to describe his littlest brother, but he couldn't ignore it entirely.
After some pondering, he'd decided to run a test of sorts. He would sleep in his own bed that night. He would not go to Maekar; instead, he would call for a servant to replace his bedding after Maekar dirtied it. He would lock his door, and he would crawl into bed and fall asleep under his own covers, alone, for the first time in weeks.
If he had been asked, he wouldn't have been able to say exactly what result he hoped to achieve with the experiment, but it felt good to have some action—a purpose to put his uncertainty towards.
And so, that's what he did. He entered his chambers shortly after nightfall, and he found an unpleasant mix of mud and berries smeared onto his bedsheets. He called for a servant to be roused and readied himself for sleep as his bedding was changed. When it had all been managed, he bid the servant leave, clicked the lock on his door into place, and crawled into his own bed.
It took some time before he managed to fall asleep, despite the exhaustion of the day weighing heavily on him. He laid still, carefully not thinking about the unfamiliarity of his own room, the absence of warmth pressed into his side, and eventually, sleep took him.
When he woke, it was with bleary-eyed confusion clouding his thoughts. For a brief moment, he wasn't sure where he was. The early morning light streamed through the windows onto his face, a stark difference to the way the rising sun slowly brightened the room in Maekar's chambers. Sleep still clung to him as he sat up, but he would be summoned for breakfast soon, and he'd never much liked being woken by the servants.
He stumbled out of bed, about to make for his wardrobe to dress, when a pale shape caught his eye. He directed his attention towards the door, where a familiar little arm was stuck out from underneath it. Maekar's hand was loosely curled into a fist, and the sleeve of his red tunic had ridden up to his elbow.
Baelor couldn't help the smile on his face as he beelined to the door. He hadn't expected to cross paths with Maekar before lunch, and he was always glad at the opportunity to see his little brother.
His smile quickly fell when he swung his door open, and instead of being greeted by Maekar's waiting face, he was met with his small body curled into itself, asleep on the cold stones. His face was curtained by his hair, and his tunic stuck to his sleep-damp skin. He looked as if he'd been there for some time. He didn't even rouse when the door creaked open right above his head, oblivious to Baelor's eyes on him.
Guilt bit at Baelor uncomfortably as he looked down at the pitiful sight. Had the boy been lying there all night?
"Maekar," he whispered, crouching down to gently rouse him.
Slowly, Maekar's head tilted up to look at him. His hair fell away from his face, and Baelor's heart cracked as he took in the sight. His drowsy, wide eyes were bloodshot, and his face was swollen and red. It was obvious he had spent some time crying before he exhausted himself to sleep.
Baelor could see the exact moment Maekar registered his presence through his sleep-addled brain. His eyebrows pinched in an upturn, and his eyes went watery.
Baelor hurried to pull him into a hug, and the boy threw his own arms around Baelor. He soothed his hand down Maekar's back as his small face pressed into his neck, sniffling.
"What happened?" Baelor asked.
"I had a nightmare," Maekar squeaked out, voice wobbling. "And I woke up, and you weren't there."
An overwhelming wave of guilt swelled in him at the realization that he was the sole one responsible for the boy's misery. Maekar had spent the night alone, crying himself to sleep on the hall floor because Baelor locked him out without so much as a word. What had he been thinking?
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm here now. It's alright."
Tears stung at Baelor's eyes, but he blinked them away. He had no right to show such upset when he was the one responsible for Maekar's hurt.
His arms tightened around Maekar's small body, securing him to his chest before standing up. Maekar clung to him so desperately that Baelor didn't think he was in any danger of dropping the boy, even if he removed his hold entirely.
He carried Maekar to the bed and tried to lay him down before crawling in himself, but the boy would not release him. Instead, Baelor had to carefully maneuver the two of them onto the mattress without the use of his arms. He ended up settled on his back with Maekar lying on top of him, his head still pressed firmly into his neck.
He released Maekar for a brief moment so he could pull the covers around them. Maekar's hold on him tightened further when he wasn't being held, but he quickly relaxed when Baelor's arms returned to him.
Maekar's unsteady breathing filled the silence of the room as he quietly wept. His tears soaked into the collar of Baelor's tunic, causing the fabric to stick uncomfortably to his skin, but he payed it no mind. He soothed his hands across Maekar's back in a calming motion, waiting for him to settle.
Eventually, his cries turned to sniffles, and his breathing evened out. Baelor felt the way his body slowly relaxed in his arms, though his clinging didn't lessen.
"Why did you lock me out?" His voice was small when he spoke, rough and uneven from his tears.
Baelor wished he had a good answer. Explaining the full truth of it would only upset the boy further, and truth be told, Baelor felt ashamed for ever doubting Maekar. It all seemed so insignificant then, with his brother holding onto him like he was the only thing that mattered in the world. How could he have ever even entertained their mother's words?
"M' sorry. I was being stupid."
"You usually are."
A laugh tore its way out of Baelor's throat at the mischief in Maekar's voice and the teasing words. It was such an unexpected shift from the misery filling the air just a moment before, and he couldn't help but be glad for it.
He gasped in fake offense, poking Maekar's side. The boy buried his face further into his neck as he broke out in giggles. It was a welcome sound after listening to his tears, and Baelor smiled privately into the silver hair tickling his face.
Baelor knew he should get up now that Maekar was feeling better. Perhaps if he had more self-discipline, he would've been able to send the boy on his way and begin preparing himself for the day before he ended up late for breakfast for the second day in a row, but he couldn't bring himself to move. He let his eyes drift shut, sleepiness from earlier washing over him anew.
It wouldn't be long before the servants came knocking, and he would have no choice but to begin the day, but he would allow them to remain in this moment until then.
He'd never been good at denying Maekar anyway.