✦ 7Ynn✦

"Say daddy got me here on time," Maegor answered promptly, parroting the response they'd practiced.

"That's right. She'll be impressed."

Aerion helped Maegor out of the truck, grabbing the small backpack with sunscreen, wipes, a change of clothes, and cash for the games. As they walked toward the entrance, he kept scanning the parking lot, half-hoping to see your car pull in, half-terrified that you'd actually show up and he'd have to navigate another afternoon of pretending he wasn't still in love with you.

The fairgrounds were already bustling with families enjoying the afternoon. Children with sticky faces ran between booths, older kids gathered near the rides, and couples shared food on benches under the shade. It was the kind of place Aerion had avoided as a teenager—too many people, too much noise—but he'd found himself looking forward to bringing Maegor here, sharing something that felt wholesome. Something that was nothing like his own childhood.

"Where first?" he asked, lifting Maegor so he could see over the crowd.

"'umper cars! An' the ducks! An' the fish game!" Maegor listed, his voice rising with excitement.

They made their way through the gates, paying the entrance fee, and were immediately confronted by the overwhelming noise and color of the fair. Maegor's eyes were wide as they stood in line for the bumper cars. He was chattering a mile a minute about how Cousin Valarr said he would get him any car he wanted when he turned sixteen.

Valarr had visited that Thursday. He'd come by the shop to deliver some parts and had ended up staying for dinner at Maekar's. Maegor worshipped his cousin, hanging on his every word about the city and the company, the cars, and the enormous headquarters that overlooked King's Landing. Aerion tried not to let it bother him. He really did; none of it was Valarr’s fault. But every story about another dealership opening, or another shiny company truck parked outside some glass office building, reminded him that there had been a time his father should’ve been standing beside Baelor. A time when Aerion himself would’ve probably ended up there too. Instead, Maekar had chosen his pride, and Aerion had inherited it.

"He said Mommy could have one too," Maegor added, looking up at him. "A pretty one with—"

"Yeah, well, Val likes showin' off," Aerion cut in. "Don't mean anythin'. Your mama likes her car just fine."

Maegor seemed to accept that, considering he was turning his attention back to the ride as they moved forward in line. But Aerion couldn't shake the irritation that had settled in his chest. He knew Valarr had only been kind—hell, he'd been trying to make the kid happy—but the reminder of everything Aerion couldn't give him stung more than it should have.

They were nearing the front of the line when he caught sight of you through the crowd. You were standing near the entrance, looking around with a small smile as you watched the groups of people pass by. The sight of you hit him right in the chest. You were wearing the same sundress you wore to the car show the last time you were all out together. Your hair was down in waves, and you held your hand up to shield your eyes as you scanned the fairground.

For a split second, Aerion considered staying where he was. Just getting on the cars with Maegor and letting you find them after. But then Maegor spotted you and let out a yell that turned multiple heads in his direction.

"Mommy!"

Your face lit up when you saw your son waving frantically. Aerion forced himself to breathe normally as you wove through the crowd, reminding himself at least twice before you got to them that this was just a day out with the boy. Nothing more.

"Hey, sweet boy!" You scooped Maegor up as soon as you reached them, spinning him around as he giggled. "I was looking everywhere for you two."

"Daddy got me here on time!" Maegor announced proudly.

You set him down, smoothing his hair as you smiled at Aerion. "You did. I'm impressed. Did your daddy tell you to tell me that?"

"We practiced!"

Aerion felt a flush creeping up his neck. "We didn't practice nothin'—kid came up with that himself."

"Sure he did. Thank you for bringing him."

"Just thought he'd have more fun with both of us. 'Specially since you've been workin' so much."

The line moved forward, and it was their turn to board the bumper cars. Maegor insisted on riding alone, despite being barely tall enough to reach the steering wheel. Aerion helped him buckle in, then moved to the car next to him. You found a spot across from them and waved at Maegor before the ride began.

For the next three minutes, Maegor laughed hysterically every time Aerion rammed into your car. His high-pitched giggles carried over the noise of the ride, and you were laughing too, your hair flying as you tried to steer away from his persistent attacks. Aerion found himself watching you more than he was focusing on driving, mesmerized by the carefree joy on your face.

When the ride ended, Maegor ran over to you, still breathless from his earlier laughter. "Mommy, you're the worst driver ever!"

"I seem to recall your daddy teaching me how to drive, so whose fault is that really?"

"Hey now," Aerion protested. "I taught you just fine. You were the one who kept gettin' distracted."

"By what?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You know damn well what."

You did know. You'd both been distracted by each other constantly in those early days, when even a simple drive to the grocery store felt like an excuse to be close. Aerion remembered parking in empty lots where the windows fogged up, your laughter turning into something else entirely as hands explored and promises were made. He pushed the memory away before it could take hold, focusing instead on Maegor, who was now asking about the next ride.

The afternoon passed in a whirlwind of sugary treats and the constant sound of Maegor's delighted laughter. You rode the small ferris wheel, where Maegor insisted on sitting between you and holding both your hands as the car swayed gently at the top. Aerion won a plastic sword at the ring toss. You won a ridiculous stuffed octopus after popping balloons with darts, which Maegor immediately declared was joining his "army."

It was during the fish game that things began to shift. Maegor was determined to win a massive stuffed bear that was nearly as tall as he was, but his coordination wasn't quite there yet. After his third unsuccessful attempt, his bottom lip began to tremble.

"I can't get it..."

"Hey," Aerion crouched down beside him. "It's just a dumb toy. You already got a sword, plus that octopus."

"But I want the bear," Maegor whined. He was one more inconvenience away from crying.

Aerion saw you move before he could start. You’d always been quicker to catch the little things like the hitch in Maegor’s breath and the way his little fists clenched when he was trying not to tear up. By the time he turned his head, you were already kneeling beside your son, rubbing a hand up and down his back. "Bug, maybe we could try another game? Look, they have—"

"No! I want the bear!"

"You'll get the damn bear, Maegor." Aerion grabbed his shoulder, turning the boy to face him. "But you ain't about to raise your voice at your mama 'cause you can't win some rigged game."

"But—"

"No buts. Now, d'you wanna try again, or are we done here?"

Maegor's chin wobbled, but he nodded. Aerion exchanged a quick glance with you before turning back to the game attendant. He didn't let Maegor play alone this time. He stood behind him, guiding his hands slightly as they worked the mechanism together. When the little plastic fish finally landed in the moving bucket, Maegor nearly passed out from the excitement.

"I did it! I did it, Daddy!"

Aerion couldn't help but laugh at the pure joy on his son's face as the bear was handed over. The thing was so big that Maegor could barely carry it, so you ended up holding it while Aerion carried Maegor on his shoulders with the octopus and sword stuffed into his backpack.

As they walked away from the game booth, you fell into step beside them. "That was nice of you, Aerion. He would've been crushed."

"He was bein' a brat. Just didn't want him makin' a scene."

"He's four," you said gently. "Emotions are big when you're little."

"Well, he gets that from his mama. Always has been sensitive."

"Is that right? And what about his temper? Where does that come from?"

"Fuck off. I ain't got no temper."

You laughed. The sound of it made him turn his head to look at you, catching the way the sun caught in your eyes. You were looking up at Maegor with your nose scrunched like you did when you were really happy, and suddenly, Aerion was overwhelmed with the memory of all the times he'd seen that exact expression when it was directed at him.

"Want some funnel cake?" he asked abruptly, gesturing toward a food stand.

"I thought you didn't like sweet things."

"Maegor does." He didn't mention that he also wanted to see you lick powdered sugar off your fingers, but the thought was there nonetheless.

"Okay, funnel cake sounds perfect."

The three of you found a bench a ways off from the petting zoo and food vendors. You and Aerion shared the sticky pastry while Maegor talked about his plan to sleep with all of his new stuffed animals, and his dragon, of course. Aerion tried to focus on his son's excited chatter, but he kept getting distracted by you. By the way you carefully tore off pieces of the funnel cake, by the sugar dusting your lips, by the way you listened to Maegor with your full attention, making him feel like the most important person in the world, which to you he was.

It was the same way you'd always listened to him, back when he'd had big dreams and even bigger insecurities. Back when he'd believed he could be the man you deserved, before he proved himself wrong time and time again.

It was maddening how easily he could slip back into wanting you. You hadn't slept together in months—not since the night you'd called him crying because the plumbing had burst and he'd spent six hours fixing it, only to end up on the floor of your living room with your legs wrapped around him and his face buried in your neck. He'd woken up at 4 AM and driven home feeling like the biggest piece of shit in the Crownlands. It should have been enough time to get over the taste of your skin or the sound of your sighs, but when you hugged him for getting your car running last week, his mind and body remembered exactly how well you fit together. And sitting here now, watching you laugh at something Maegor said, he felt that same pull he'd felt when he was eighteen and being called an idiot by his father for wanting to charge you for a tire. The same pull that had him glued to the seat at the diner until he could justify talking to you again.

The moment was broken when Maegor suddenly announced he had to go to the bathroom. Aerion stood up, but you waved him back down.

"I'll take him," you said, already gathering the remains of the funnel cake. "You can watch the bear."

Aerion grunted out his agreement, watching as you led Maegor toward the restrooms. Left alone with his thoughts, he pulled out a cigarette. As he lit it with slightly shaky hands, he knew he should quit, especially with Maegor getting older and becoming more aware of everything, but some habits were too ingrained to break easily. That, and he didn't really want to. The smoking helped. The drinking helped. He knew it didn't really fix anything, but it took the edge off. Because the edge was the problem. That constant simmer that threatened to boil over when he least expected it. The same temper that had ruined his relationship with you, the same pride that kept him from properly apologizing. The constant feeling of not measuring up. The nights when he'd look at his son and wonder how the hell he was going to make sure he didn't end up like him.

"You look like you're plotting something."

He recognized that voice the second he heard it. He didn't even need to look up to confirm; that nasty feeling crawling up the back of his neck was enough. He knew the moment that he did, his otherwise perfect day would be ruined by the sight of a polo shirt and polished leather shoes in the middle of a county fair.

"Valarr."

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