Heilir Hildar Til.

“I was not asleep.”

“You were snoring, my prince.”

“I do not snore.” Aegon replied slightly, pouting.

“You drooled upon the pillow.”

The boy gasped in offended horror, and you had to press your lips together to keep from laughing outright.

From the doorway came the sound of a boots against stone. You looked up. Prince Maekar stood there in the shadows.

He had likely only just returned from the yard or council chambers. He was still dressed in black leather and dark crimson, silver hair damp from the rain. Sternness sat upon him naturally as a crown sat upon a king. Even exhausted, he carried himself like a drawn sword.

Yet he had gone strangely still. Aegon noticed him then. “Father,” the boy chirped from his blankets. “She says I drool.”

Maekar’s mouth twitched. It was not quite a smile. Maekar rarely ever smiled fully. But it was enough to soften the harsh lines of his face.

“Do you?” he asked his son dryly.

“No.” Egg said back to his father.

“You did,” you answered.

“Traitor.” Egg muttered at you.

Maekar crossed the room slowly then, his gaze lingering upon the open book in your lap. Tales of Nymeria. One of Egg’s favorites.

The prince’s eyes moved between the two of you in silence. You had noticed, these past months since your betrothal, that Maekar often watched rather than spoke. As though words cost him something precious. As though silence was safer.

At first, you had thought he merely tolerated you. It was a political match first and foremost. Another noble daughter brought to heel beneath the weight of duty and dragons.

Maekar had loved once already. Everyone knew it. The realm knew it. Dyanna Dayne had been gone for some years now, yet her absence lingered in every hall around him like a ghost whether it was King’s Landing or Summerhall. Courtier’s spoke of her softly. Servants still compared every gown you wore to what Dyanna might have chosen.

You never wanted or tried to replace her. You did not think anyone could or should they.

“Will you finish the chapter tomorrow?” Egg asked sleepily.

“If you are diligent with your lessons.” The boy groaned dramatically. Maekar snorted under his breath at that. Another small thing. Another rare crack in the stone that was your betrothed.

You closed the book gently as Aegon settled beneath the blankets. When you leaned to brush the hair from his brow, the child caught your wrist suddenly. “You’ll still be here tomorrow?” he asked.

The question struck deeper than it should have. You smiled softly. “Yes. I will be.”

Satisfied, he released you at once, already drifting toward sleep. The room felt quiet save for the rain.

You rose carefully from beside the bed and turned toward the door, intending to take your leave before you intruded further upon the prince’s evening. But Maekar spoke, “Walk with me.” It was not a request.

Still, his voice lacked its usual sharpness. You followed him from the chamber into the corridor beyond, torchlight flickering over stone and red silk banners. For several moments he said nothing at all, his hands clasped behind his back as he walked side by side with you.

Then quietly, “He likes you.”

You glanced up towards him. “I like him as well. Truly.”

“That is not difficult. Egg would charm affection from a viper if you let him.”

A soft laugh escaped you before you could stop it. Maekar looked at you then. His eyes were beautiful in the torchlight. They were deep violet, shadowed with exhaustion and something older than grief.

“When this betrothal was arranged,” he said slowly, “I did not intend cruelty…though I suspect it must have felt cruel all the same.”

You frowned slightly. “My Prince—”

“I knew what was said of me and about me.” His jaw tightened. “Cold. Hard. Half a widower still buried beside his dead wife.”

The honesty of it startled you into silence. He stopped beside one of the narrow windows overlooking Blackwater Bay.

“I thought duty would be enough,” he admitted. “A suitable marriage. More children. Peace in the realm like my father asked.” His mouth twisted faintly. “I did not think happiness need enter into it.”

Your heart softened painfully at the weariness in his voice. For a long moment neither of you spoke. Then he looked back toward the chamber where Aegon slept.

“When I saw you with my son tonight…” He exhaled quietly. “You were patient with him. Gentle even. And the gods know he has lacked gentleness these years.”

You stepped closer before thinking better of it.

“Maekar…”

“I loved Dyanna.” His voice was firm now edged with certainty. “I always shall.”

You nodded once. “I know and I do not mean to replace her.”

Something eased in his face then after your admission. Perhaps it was relief. Relief that you understood him.

“But I think..” he hesitated, and you realized with sudden astonishment that Prine Maekar the hard, proud, iron willed Maekar, the man nicknamed the Anvil looked almost uncertain. “I think there may yet be room in me for something more.”

Your breath caught. The rain battered softly against the stone.

“You are kind,” he said quietly. “Far kinder than this court deserves. Kinder than I deserve, mayhaps.” His gaze held yours fully now, stripped bare of all princely distance he put between you. “And when I think of turning to these chambers and finding you there.. I find that I wish for it.”

Heat bloomed in your chest.

“I do not know if I remember how to be a husband properly anymore. It has been some time,” he confessed, almost bitterly. “But I think… if you would allow it, we could be happy together.”

The words settled between you like something fragile and precious. You reached for his hand slowly, giving him every chance to pull away from you, but he did not. His fingers closed around yours with surprising strength.

“You frighten the entire court, Your Grace,” you murmured gently. “Yet here you are sounding like nervous boy asking for his first dance.”

To your astonishment, Maekar laughed. It was low and rough and real to which you hoped to hear it many times over.

“Gods preserve me,” he muttered. “Do not repeat that to anyone.”