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“Your boy went out on his own,” Donnel said. “Apparently he broke away from Daeron while they were out on the street to go exploring. Something about his brother not wanting to take him on ‘a real adventure’? We assume he simply grew bored with waiting for his brother to finish whatever shopping he wanted to do.”
Maekar breathed a heavy sigh, already resigned to whatever insanity his children put him and the rest of his household through. It shouldn’t come as a surprise to him. If there was one thing every last one of his get were interested in, then it was causing never-ending mischief and trouble for him to deal with.
Sometimes he wondered if it would have been easier to just install that barbed wire around the mansion in a desperate attempt to keep them all in. But then again, somehow trouble always found its way to them. Not to mention that he’d probably end up being haunted by Dyanna’s ghost for making their beautiful mansion, which she spent so much time renovating and decorating, like a prison cell. At least Donnel seemed to be able to get a hold of it all, even if he was the only one amongst the swarms of bodyguards his family hired.
The older man waved his hand, signifying for him to continue with the report. “From what Aegon has told us, he spent about two or three hours just wandering around the city. He lost his coat-” the designer coat Maekar bought especially for him- which was now ruined “-there while playing in the mud, after which he looked around for someplace warm to stay due to the autumn cold. This is when he ended up wandering into a small bakery. The owner, Mr Pennytree, found him and asked him what happened.
“Not wanting to return, your son lied about being a runaway and begged to be hidden by the man. Something he did in fact do. I have conversed with him upon us finally locating the boy. He had no idea who Aegon even was, much less who his father was. He thought he was some sort of orphan like himself, which, combined with his state, caused him to take pity on him. The man gave Aegon something to eat and drink free of charge while intending for the boy to stay over the night so he could call one of his friends who is a social worker. Once we explained everything and cleared all of it up, he handed over your son willingly, though he did scold him for the lie. Mr Pennytree didn’t ask for any payment after.”
Right, of course. Some random good samaritan to jump in and save the day with his rebellious son. His brother would chastise him for being ungrateful if he saw Maekar’s expression. “Bullshit, he probably saw Aegon's face somewhere on the news and pretended to be dumb when you came around. Give him his money before he starts making a fuss. And for the love of the Seven– bring those boys to me, or so help me–”
XXX
“YOU FREED YOUR BROTHER FROM HIS ROOM AFTER I GROUNDED HIM!? SERIOUSLY, DAERON!?”
“Well, he just looked so sad–”
Maekar slammed his hand flat on the table, causing it to echo in the empty dining room where the talk was being held. Aegon looked at him with apologetic eyes, though something told the man that the only thing he was sorry for was being caught. On the table, wrapped in a colourful but messy bag, lay an array of sweet treats and savoury snacks.
If his sons had any sense, it would’ve been a peace offering. The bold text of ‘Pennytree Bakery’ on a green paper bag let him believe a slightly different version of the tale.
“I had to apologise!” Aegon insisted, “Please, Father! I talked to him and all! He even gave us some of his treats! I didn’t cause him or anyone else any trouble! You have to understand, Dunk is a good person and he would never–”
“I DO NOT CARE WHAT HE IS!” Responded Maekar, “YOU RAN AWAY. AGAIN. AND DAERON HELPED YOU! YOU CAUSED ME TROUBLE! BECAUSE YOU DISOBEYED ME!”
“Father-”
“How did you even manage to get outside!?” Maekar asked instead. “Aegon’s room is on the third floor! And I had his door locked! Together with the window! Did you pay off the maids!? Is that it!? Or was it some other staff member!?”
At that Daeron looked all the more guilty, eyes becoming glued to the ground and his feet. “I…kind of…broke the window and we climbed down from there.”
“....”
“BOTH OF YOU ARE GROUNDED AGAIN!”
This was madness. This was complete and utter idiocy. He couldn’t believe this.
He needed a drink.
XXX
Daeron Targaryen (5:17 PM)
Sorry, I can’t come tomorrow. I know I told you today I’d do it, but my father grounded me for the stunt I pulled with Aegon.
Duncan <3 (5:18 PM)
Oh, well. I suppose there’s nothing to be done about that. Though, to be fair, you maybe should have seen it coming. Do you still want me to save those pastries for you?
Daeron Targaryen (5:20 PM)
I would adore that, actually. You truly do own my unending gratitude.
Duncan <3 (5:21 PM)
I suppose that’s what you do when you’re being asked for your number by a nice guy XD
Daeron Targaryen (5:22 PM)
You think I’m nice?
Duncan <3 (5:25 PM)
Of course I do! In fact, I got the feeling that we will get along great! I can even introduce you to the rest of my friends next time you come over. Take little Egg with you! I have a feeling the boy would enjoy getting to test the new recipes. It’ll be a fun group hang-out.
His son needed to learn to lock the phone. Otherwise, Maekar will throw it after him. Whoever this Duncan guy was- mayhaps a classmate or something- he did start a course at their local university at his behest -or some other poor sod. He grimaced at the use of his youngest’s silly nickname and made a mental note to tell Daeron off for trying to use his brother as an excuse to be going around meeting people.
XXX
It was not often that their family got to eat together, which meant that Maekar ought to be thankful for any chance he could get. They weren’t complete- his two middle brothers with their families, as well as his parents, were missing due to having their own affairs to tend to. But at least Baelor had been able to come around, bringing with him Valarr as well as his good-daughter Kiera.
“I fear dear Matarys was unable to come; he’s come down with a rather nasty cold, though he insisted we do not mind him and that he would be fine alone for a while. Nothing serious, luckily, but the doctors recommended rest.” Maekar nodded as brother spoke. Something was going around indeed; he blamed the onset of autumn for the wave of sickness that seemed to spread everywhere.
“I see, send them my best regards then.” The younger nodded. “No other troubles besides, I hope? How has the baby been doing?”
This time it was Valarr who answered, hooking an arm around his wife, who laid her own atop her noticeably swollen belly. “It is fine. We’re preparing the nursery; Kiera believes it will be a girl.”
“Keeping anything down has not become any easier, though.” Replied the woman in question from the side, a strained but humorous smile on her lips. It reminded Maekar of Dyanna. She’d had similar problems to Kiera, never able to keep anything down and growing sick at even the slightest hint of spice. Their private chef had nearly quit out of frustration, and his poor love couldn’t enter the kitchen for nearly nine whole months. What had been bad for her only seemed to be horrible for Kiera, however. Last he knew, there was no day when she didn’t struggle with this or that. They’d gone to just about every specialist in town to make sure that it was no symptom of a greater issue- all of which brought forth the same result to them:
Kiera and the baby were both in perfect condition, healthy as could be. Sometimes women simply reacted worse to different things, was all. It is just an unlucky happenstance that she had to feel the effects of her pregnancy so strongly.
He nodded and moved out of the way. “Make yourselves at home, then. It’ll be a while until dinner is served, so feel free to take whatever appetisers you want. I had my staff set out some treats while we wait.”
“Will you not be joining us?”
“In a bit,” Maekar replied, “I’ll need to gather my sons first. They’ve been grounded since yesterday. I fear there have been a few…incidents.”
XXX
“She ate all of my treats!” Aegon whined, “All of them! The sweet and the savoury ones! I’d have had them saved for me if you didn’t force me to leave them!”
“Stop with the accusing tone, you!” growled the elder. “It serves you right for trying to run; be happy I’m not grounding you even longer. And don’t be so selfish either! Kiera is your cousin’s wife; you ought to be happy that she managed to eat at least something!”
XXX
“Those pastries you had set out did wonders!” His nephew spoke, reverence in his voice. “Did you have them made especially for her? She’s been talking about nothing else besides! You have got to tell me where you have bought them from, uncle. Those in the green bag? We almost didn’t see them from where they’d been put. Father took it to try and research it on his own for us, but I thought I should try asking you first.”
Green bag?
XXX
In the end, Baelor was, in fact, able to locate the mysterious treats his son had talked to Maekar about.
That was not a problem. Honestly? If Kiera enjoyed them, there was no reason to deny her cravings. He wished her nothing but the best in that regard and congratulated Valarr on finally finding a way to make his dear wife more comfortable as they waited for their firstborn to come into the world.
The problem Maekar had, and the thing that would have turned his hair grey had he not been born with the colouring of his own sire, was the fact that somehow it was that bakery.
“You really should come along sometimes, brother,” Baelor spoke with a calm, relaxed tone. “Little Aegon loves it there. Duncan makes quite the coffee, too. I have never once been disappointed since I came there.”
He should have known.
Maekar should have known.
The moment Baelor came home with that stupid, dopey smile on his lips to tell the tale he should have seen the signs. He witnessed how he was with Jena, all euphoric and disgustingly sweet. The man had assumed his elder had outgrown such childish infatuations by now. Hell, he never even expected him to find another one even years after the death of his love. But here he was, watching his brother talk about some dumb bakery fool that seemed to have stuck to his family like a particularly bad insect sent by the gods to fuck with him. “He’s willful while being kind,” Baelor tried to convince him, “he even refused my offer to buy him out, despite the fact that it would have surely done wonders for his financial situation to work for our family. Told me he wanted to stay independent and that he’d inherited it from his great-uncle. I can see why your sons adore him so; I’m certain you would too.
It sounded like a pitch meeting.
The man groused at his brother. “Need I remind you of the circumstances of how my children met that man in the first place? Who knows, he probably is only nice to you because he smells our money.”
This was getting annoying; what had come over everyone!?
Baelor had a horrible twinkle in his eyes. “I doubt it, Maekar. Duncan is very kind.”
He only prayed it wasn’t the same Duncan he read about on his son’s phone.
XXX
It started how it began.
Across from him stood Donnel, obviously nervous, together with Aegon and his brother. Next to them, the police.
That baker had called the cops.
Maekar had always known that Aerion was a problem. He was a spoiled little boy who enjoyed making everyone around him miserable for his own pain. Be that his brothers, cousins, their staff, classmates or even his parents. For the longest time, he’d assumed it to be harmless enough. Annoying but manageable, nothing that a good yelling and punishment couldn't fix. He knew he was being too lenient; believe him. He heard the way the rest of his family whispered and judged. It wasn’t meant to be malicious; still, it made him defensive. Only managing to get him to dig his heels in deeper and deeper about his second son’s obvious failings.
Maybe that was his mistake.
Or maybe his mistake was that he had failed to notice him sneaking after his brother and uncle when they went out to the city together, curious to see that strange, lowly bakery his family suddenly seemed overly interested in.
Only to promptly assault some innocent women for whatever reason he decided to pick as an excuse for his violence, get backhanded by the owner of said bakery he wanted to take a look at, and be arrested and put into holding when a bystander called the police on the whole situation. All in front of Aegon and Baelor, joy.
“I fear that there’s not exactly an easy way for Aerion to get out of it this time,” his brother informed him with a distinctively forced kind of pity. “Multiple people have been made witnesses to the whole altercation. Not to mention the CCTV.”
“At least tell me the fiend that hit my son has also been taken into proper custody?”
A chiding kind of disappointment replaced the faux pity in Baelor’s eyes. It made Maekar’s skin crawl with shame against his will. “I fear that Duncan has only done what he needed to do to prevent your boy from seriously harming someone else. Neither the police nor anyone else was very eager to see him arrested for that alone. Especially since so many could attest to Duncan’s innocence in the full matter.”
“You testified against your own blood!?”
“I testified against someone who caused undue ruckus. I can assure you that Duncan has held himself back if nothing else.”
Maekar scoffed, forcing whatever feelings of betrayal he mustered at Baelor’s admission down in favour of focusing on the here and now. “And what about you, Aegon? What do you think-”
“Duncan is the best!” His son exclaimed happily, “It was soo cool seeing him throw Aerion across the room! He was like a real knight from the books; I want to be just like him when I grow up!”
XXX
“I do not intend to let myself be bought off so you can have your son avoid jail, Mister Targaryen.” The baker said in a steadfast voice as he crossed his arms above his chest. “It is Tanselle’s choice on whether or not she wants to press charges. I don’t care how many lawyers you want to send after her or me; I’ll go to court if that’s what she wants.”
Maekar blinked.
It had become a routine, by now. Aerion messing up, people being mad, Maekar needing to bail him out. Sure, Baelor told him that this Duncan wasn’t that sort of person- but who would refuse? The baker obviously had to struggle with money if he looked at the state and location of his business. A few thousand dollars to stay out of the courts and talk his friend down from trying to go after his son seemed more than reasonable. And if that didn’t work, he had always also the option of simply threatening him. It’s not like he had to know how desperately Maekar was pulling at straws to be here in the first place.
When he imagined the mysterious ‘Duncan’ his family talked about, he thought of an average guy. Plain features, a dumb smile, mayhaps a bit ditzy to choose to become a baker in the first place and just muscular enough to outdo Aerion in a moment of surprise. That was who Maekar thought Duncan was.
He had not, not even in his wildest dreams, expected a nearly seven-foot-tall wall of muscle with strawberry blonde hair and the most striking blue eyes he’d ever seen before.
Nor had he expected how his face darkened the moment he had realised what Maekar intended to be doing.
“Excuse me!?” The elder man intoned, “I’ll have you know that-”
“I don’t care who you are.” Dunk cut him off. “And I don't care if you are Baelor’s-”
He used his brother’s first name!?
“-family or Egg’s father. Your son has done a horrible thing, and seeing who raised him, I can understand how he could grow up so twisted.”
“How dare you speak to me like—”
“All of which is to say-” The man opened the counter and walked out; he wore a creamy white apron stained with flour and something that looked like jam. “I will not be doing business with you or your son Aerion, Mister Targaryen. Please leave my establishment.”
Never in his nearly forty years of life had he been talked to like that. Nor had he been bodily pushed out of a door, feet struggling to keep up with the sheer size of the man across him as he forced him outside. “The rest of your family is more than welcome still.”
He shut the door in Maekar’s face without another word. He didn’t even know if the heat in his face was anger, embarrassment or something he would rather die than name.
Awwww shit.