#happyau

Moments and days blurred. Between sleepless nights when she’d count his breaths and dazed days when she’d leave Baelor under watchful Maekar’s or maester's eyes only to freshen up and maybe have a bite or two, could not tell if it has been days, weeks or months since the Trial. She did not care if their absence at the capital would go noticed, she did not care if the king needed his Hand, she did not care to answer the summons or pleads. And when Aerion, who had recovered from the beating sir Duncan rightfully dealt him and who was most displeased that his aunt decided to let the hedge knight stay by her side, had suddenly decided he had a voice in the matter of when they were to leave Ashford, she wasn’t able to stop her impulse in time. Her hand collided with Aerion's cheek with a loud ‘slap’, the echo of it ringing in the half empty room the family was dining. For a moment everyone froze, all eyes on her, even the servants. She was not one to lose her temper easily and she didn’t believe that slap to be a sign that she did, even if her chest was heaving and she could feel anger rise inside. Aerion slowly reached to his cheek that burned red and his eyes flared up for a moment, his usual temper ignited in seconds. He hissed:

‘Last time someone struck a royal blood they…’ She huffed despite herself, cutting him short.

‘Do finish this sentence, nephew,’ she spat as Aerion jumped to his feet. ‘I dare you.’

Daeron frowned, Valarr's hand flexed around his knife, Aegon stared in horror as her cold blue gaze clashed against Aerion's violet. The fire inside her raged, demanding he'd pay in blood for his deeds, a part of her anticipating a fight. Someone needed to wipe the floor with that arrogant child of a prince and she was more than willing to. 

‘I am a dragon…’ Aerion started again and she flat out scoffed. 

‘You are but a child,’ she argued. ‘A child and a fool, who has no honor or regard for someone else's life. Your uncle lies fighting for his life after a mess you caused and here you dare complain about missing your whores. Not only are you a coward, like trials proved,’ she hissed, and the words tasted like poison on her lips, ‘ but you are also an arrogant brat who has no care for anyone but himself. Your ancestors would be ashamed of you.’

Aerion seemed taken aback for a moment. ‘You can't talk to me like that! You know nothing about…’

‘Enough!’ Maekar smashed his hand on the table, just as Valarr rose from his seat, intent on defending her. ‘Another word out of your fucking mouth, boy, and so help you gods…’

Whether it was the fury in his father’s eyes or the murder in his aunt's, Aerion didn't speak another word and returned to his food, glaring daggers at his cousin from time to time. Valarr ignored him, as did she until deciding to excuse herself. ‘Try that tone with my mother again, cousin,’ she heard Vallar say. ‘And no gods will help you.’

‘You shouldn't antagonize him,’ she spoke to Vallar later, when he came to visit Baelor. The boy rested on the floor by his father’s bed, his head on his father’s hand.

‘He has no right to speak to you this way.’ Valarr responded not taking his eyes off of his father. He spoke with Baelor’s calm and restraint, yet she could hear a quiet song of rage in every word. So alike. She sighed.

‘Perhaps, but Aerion’s words are irrelevant to me. They don’t matter.’

‘Father wouldn’t have let him off with that.’ Valarr argued, stubbornly.

‘Neither did your uncle.’ she reminded him. ‘Yet you should understand that Aerion is simply trying to provoke you. Don’t let him.’

Valarr raised his head and cocked it to the side, looking at her with a poorly hidden giggle in his eyes: ‘Says a woman who struck across his stupid face.’

She frowned, but couldn’t keep a straight look, smiling eventually. ‘Suppose you will have to be better than your elders, then.’

‘You’re barely thirty, mother.’ Valarr snorted.

‘And yet.’

They looked at each other for a brief moment and then suddenly found themselves giggling, a sound neither of the two anticipated.Neither of them had thought themselves able to laugh anymore, not when Baelor was barely breathing. She looked at her husband, struck with guilt and ache, and froze when her eyes met the half dazed glance of his mismatched eyes. Is he…?

‘Father!’ Valarr’s voice full of relief proved her eyes were not deceiving her. ‘You’re awake.’

Baelor tried to say something, but no words came out. She got to her feet, poured some water into it and walked to her husband’s bed again, hoping her hands were not shaking. 

‘Go fetch your uncle,’ she told Valarr, calmly and the boy rushed away. Then she turned to Baelor and offered him the glass.

Baelor woke up with a headache splitting his skull and ringing in his ears. He forced his eyes open and realised that the ringing sound was a quiet giggling for there were two people in his room : a woman, draped over a chair to his left and a young man sitting to his right on the floor. He felt odd. The room felt odd. And when his eyes met with the woman’s in front of him something in them cut through him like a knife. Why?

‘Father!’ the boy almost yelled and Baelor winced at the volume of his. Valarr. ‘You’re awake.’ He tried to say something, but his throat felt raw and sore and no sound came out. He looked at Valarr then at the woman, almost helplessly, and as if she knew she got up and poured the water for him and brought it to his lips.  ‘Drink,’ he heard her say. Her voice shook and so did her hands, yet she held the glass firmly while he drank. Then brought another one. His head still throbbed but his throat felt less sore after the second glass and he managed to crook a ‘Thank you.’ that lit up the woman's face. She looked at him with tears in her eyes and was about to say something, when the door swang open and another voice bellowed ‘Brother!’. 

Baelor flinched, the word making the ache worse. ‘Please, Maekar, lover your voice.’ the woman said sternly. 

‘Forgive me,’ Maekar crossed the room in few sharp stepps and fell to his knees at Baelor’s bed. ‘Please forgive me, brother.’

Baelor frowned and it sent a wave of ache through his skull. ‘Whatever for?’ he pondered. His brother’s face darken in  something like surprise, then he shot a look at the woman before looking back at Baelor.  ‘You…you don’t remember?’ 

‘Remember what exactly?’

There it was again, a look his brother shared with the woman, who still stood with the glass in her hand. And it was her who spoke this time. ‘There was a trial by combat. You’ve been  hurt.’

A trial? Baelor thought. ‘What trial?’

Maekar averted his eyes. ‘Aerion hurt a performer. A hedge-knight, a boy, really, intervened. He demanded a trial. You fought on the boy’s side.’ Baelor frowned.  It was odd, not that he wouldn’t fight for what was right, but that anyone fighting on his nephew’s would truly hurt him. He was quite a great fighter, the only match for him, perhaps…

‘You fought on Aerion’s, didn’t you?’ Baelor asked.

‘I did. Forgive me, brother. I almost killed you.’ Maekar’s voice was but a whisper, laced with pain and guilt. Baelor raised his hand, surprised at how much effort it took, and touched his brother’s face. ‘I hold no blame for you, Maekar.’ he said.

‘As you should,’ the woman’s voice rang. ‘It is your fault, Baelor, you absolute irresponsible fool. Even a squire knows you don’t  wear a helm that is too small into battle.’

She spoke with anger and frustration, and relief that was a little bit more than just that. Baelor found himself rather amused by it. He looked at her, half fury, half woman, and smiled awkwardly, his muscles not yet fully his to command.