A Dragon Never Regrets

5 Days Earlier.

“Where the fuck is my brother?!” Maekar snaps for the third fucking time. Already growing agitated with the many hands pulling and dabbing at her. Yormwell gives her a softly scolding look when she slaps his hand away while he’s trying to stop the bleeding across her brow. “My guess is still with the hedge knight, Your Grace.” He answers as he tosses one bloody rag aside and is handed another clean rag by one of his many assistants, all of whom flit around them, seeing to their Princess. Maekar scoffs, rolls her eyes to hide the glare that really wants to form on her face. How dare Baelor betray her!? How dare he make her feel like an utter piece of shit simply by not choosing to side with her?! Maekar huffs, grits her teeth to keep from hissing in pain when one of the assisting girls unlatches the armour of her left shoulder. Maekar rolls her shoulders forward, grimacing as she hears her bones creaking (but at least they do not crack.) She was afraid to ask, but finally, after a few minutes, Maekar looks up at Yormwell—who is mixing some medicinal paste in a small wooden bowl—and asks him, “My boy; Aerion...is he still alive?” The words get stuck in her throat as the last image, just minutes ago, of him being dragged off the muddy field by maesters and royal guards flashes painfully bright across her mind. She had swayed and fallen to her knees in exhaustion just seconds later before being carried away herself. Before Yormwell can answer, a panicked voice can be heard yelling, “Maester! We need a maester—ah, the—the Prince’s maester! Please! Help! Someone!” Maekar and Yormwell share a look of dread and Maekar gets up so fast then that the world spins for just a moment. “Easy, Your Grace.” Yormwell mutters, appearing behind her and putting a soft but steadying hand on her right shoulder. (He knows to be discreet with the Princess when it comes to her showing weakness. He has learned the hard way. Though, he cannot fault her for it. She is a woman fighting in a man’s world. And she is very good at it.) Maekar bats his hand away, but only gives him a split second glare as opposed to her usual “fuck off and leave me the fuck alone” glare. Thankfully, she doesn’t need to go searching for the voice as a young scruffy looking man suddenly rushes in. He looks as frantic as he sounds, though, Maekar is both intrigued and dreading the look of relief he gets when his eyes land on her. “Princess, it’s ya brother!” Yes—that is when the dread makes Maekar’s heart feel like it’s being slowly shit out of her arse... Because she already knows what he’s going to say. Already knows this is not going go be good. “What about him?” Maekar asks, words careful and slow, as if begging this man not to tell her exactly what she knows he’s about to tell her. Raymun takes a deep but shaky breath, because he suddenly remembers who he’s actually talking to. And she scares the fucking shite out of him. So, instead, he panics even more and just spews out his words: “Y-Your Grace, y-ya brother, he’s collapsed, ‘n’ he’s bleeding from the head! And I’m sorry! I’m so fucking sorry, Your Grace—begging pardon for me language, but I swear, I removed his helm for him only because he asked me to!” Maekar’s eyes widen after slowly drifting down to his bloodied hands trembling at his sides. She holds up her hand and he clamps his mouth shut. She takes a deep breath, swallows slowly and as calmly as she can, she asks the lad, “Is he alive?” Raymun barely nods; barely opens his mouth, and then, Princess Maekar is turning to the maester and telling him to follow her before turning back to Raymun and demanding he take her to her brother.

2 Minutes Later.

“No! Ser! Get up, Ser! Please, get up! Ser!? Ser!!” Maekar hears the crying and the desperate yelling before she even turns the corner and sees the horrific scene before her. The hedge knight is barely upright himself. Huddled and hunched shoulders wobbling with the sobs that break from his black and red lips. He looks beaten to a fucking pulp. He looks worse than anyone, even the man that lies in his lap right now. Her brother doesn’t have any bruising that she can see. And his son’s borrowed armour isn’t dented at the chest, like hers fucking is (...because of her brother!) “He is alive.” Maekar says dumbly. Just stands there, frozen on her spot and staring at only her brother. Staring somehow through Yormwell as he hurries over to intervene. To help. Unlike Maekar, who suddenly feels so fucking useless. “Ser, you must allow me to tend to him!” Yormwell says sternly when the hedge knight doesn’t let go. Dunk’s bottom lip is still wobbling, but he finally nods and lets the maester do his job. Backs away with shaky hands and an even more ridged back than usual. He sways on his knees, even. So much so, that Raymun and Steely Pate have to place a hand on each of his shoulders to keep him upright. Egg finally tears his eyes away from his uncle to glance over to his mother. Then, immediately wishes he hadn’t when he sees the terrifying look of terror on her face. Something he has never seen on her face before. She has always been his warrior, his rock, his idol (or at least, one of.) “Do you know what hit him?” Yormwell asks, then, explains, “I need to know how heavy the hit was if I am to determine the damage.” Steely Pate and Raymun share an understanding look—do not mention what the Prince said about his sister’s mace if they all want to live. And meanwhile, while Dunk’s head was and still very much is all over the place—he clearly never heard what the Prince said or doesn’t remember—there is Maekar, lost in her own panic and trauma also. Her eyes drift over to Valaar’s now bloody and slightly misshaped helm sitting in the dirt sand just feet from her brother’s feet just as the scruffy young lad breaks her thoughts with his answer: “We don’t know for sure. But most like, it coulda been a horse.” Yormwell hums thoughtfully, says, mostly to himself, “Possibly. Though, his armour should be muddier if this was by horse foot.” Maekar looks down to see her hands shaking uncontrollably now. Her breathing is slowly growing rapid. She did this. She has killed her brother. She has killed Bae— There is a soft choking sound, then, a round of gasps, and Maekar herself is letting out a choked breath of relief as she sees her brother’s eyes spring open. She wobbles on her feet. Takes a step forward. Then, hesitates as the guilt drags her back to a halt. “My Prince, you are awake! It is a miracle!” Yormwell exclaims, exploding with glee as both he and the hedge knight huddle over him. “Y-Your Grace! Thank the Gods!” Dunk practically sobs his words out, his head dipping to rest on the Prince’s cold armoured chest. Egg’s mouth is hung open in shock, his breathing heavy, but his heart slowly becoming full again. Raymun and Steely Pate also take a sigh of relief and give Dunk a gentle squeeze, their hands still keeping him from completely passing out, just like the Prince had. And Maekar is still frozen. Still fucking useless. “Maekar...” That is, of course, until she hears her brother call her name. And then, just like always, she is by his side, answering him as quickly and efficiently as she ever can. His voice sounds strange, like water; not quite solid, not quite Baelor. But Maekar ignores it all, ignores the world for him. Dunk is gently pulled over to sit on the bench by Raymun and Steely Pate, and Yormwell takes a few steps back as they all watch the Princess cradle her brother in her arms. Maekar looks him over for any other injuries. Smiles as best she can when she finally reaches his eyes. Breathes out a shaky breath and tells him, “You scared the shit out of me, you bloody idiot.” Baelor doesn’t answer, only smiles up at her. Which is the first thing that raises the hairs on the back of her neck. And being in wars, fighting beside her brother and other good men like him, she should have learned to trust her instincts. But alas, Baelor is smiling up at her, and he isn’t dead, and that is all she can fucking focus on right now. (Because she still doesn’t know if Aerion is alive or not.) Though, Maekar still feels it in her gut when she really looks at him. Looks him in his mismatched eyes and sees that they are glassy and...and that he doesn’t look quite all there... She takes another shaky breath, almost lets out a fucking sob when her fingers graze the bloody gash at the back of his head. Baelor shakes his head only once before wincing. Then, tries to lift a hand to her face, but his limbs feel so damn heavy. He feels so tired. So dizzy. But Maekar is here. And his vision may be going blurry, but he still sees her. Would still see her dimensions apart. His little dragon. The brightest one of all. There to guide him and make him feel a little less insane each day. “Baelor,” Maekar whispers softly. She looks afraid. Baelor frowns, tries to shake his head again. He doesn’t want her to blame herself. He knows she will. Knows she always does. Whether she says it aloud or not. She always has. Maekar glances over at Yormwell and gives him a nod. Watches him run back out the way they came in. She looks back down at her brother and tells him, “Brother, I will get you to the maesters and they will fix this, and then, we can finally get the fuck out of the miserable place, OK?” She forces on a smile when he nods and smiles faintly up at her. “OK, good. Then, stay the fuck awake for me, or I shall have to slap you, brother.” An airy chuckle puffs passed Baelor’s lips, and Maekar immediately brightens. “M-Maekar,” But then, she sees how he struggles to clear his throat. Panics even more when he then says, “Daor naejot. {Don’t be afraid.}” Then...Maekar is back to being frozen again when his eyes fall shut, with a small lingering smile on his blood-spattered lips. “Your Grace?” Dunk is the first to notice. “N-No!! Fuck! NO!” (She is back to being useless...) Egg begins to cry, tears silently leaking down his face and shoulders shuddering as he tries to hold back sobs. (Because that is all she ever is whenever she is without him.)

Now.

“I’m sure you would tell me otherwise.” Maekar smiles at her brother, but shakes her head with a sad sigh as she tells him, “But I was useless, brother. After all those times I have stood by your side in battle, all I could do when I saw you lying there in the mud in the arms of Ser Duncan was bloody freeze, like a maiden on her wedding night to a fat old drunk.” “The truth is,” Maekar stares down at her hands clasped tightly around her brother’s right hand, quietly tells him, “I do not know how to be in this world if you are not in it as well.” She chuckles lightly to herself in bewilderment, but morbid amusement as she realises, “I have never done it before.” She says, “Even when we were finally loaded with our separate duties, I don’t think we have ever spent more than a week apart.” “That is how Aemon and I used to be.” Maekar jumps very slightly. Then, throws a weak glare over her shoulder. Egg fights back a smile, just barely. He seems to be the only person on this planet than can sneak up on his mother. (Well, maybe his uncle, too.) Maekar neatly places her brother’s hand back to his side. Leans back in her chair. And with a tired sigh, asks her boy, “Are you trying to be pointed?” “No.” Egg replies as he walks over to stand the opposite side of his uncle’s bed. He looks at his mother solemnly and says, “I just like that you and I are not so different. Even if we are worlds apart.” Maekar scoffs, both annoyed and amused. “You speak as if I did not birth you, boy.” She arches a brow at him. Egg smiles. Nods. Says, “I am just happy to know you are not lonely after father’s passing.” Maekar freezes for split second, and thank the fucking Gods she conveniently does so just as her son looks at her brother. She calms herself and just as calmly says, “You do not need to worry about me, Egg. Your father’s passing, I will admit, had left me in a state of depression for a while, but since then, I have found, I need only focus on my children. And my duties, of course.” Egg nods again. Says, “I only meant that Uncle Baelor seems to be the only person you ever trust to confide in. Adult-to-adult. He is your brother, of course, and he is the best of us Targaryens. And I know that Daeron and Aerion are both technically grown, but one is too drunk and one simply does not care for any matters that do not directly involve him...” He trails off for a moment, smiles meekly and adds, “I was...just saying...” A small but proud smile tugs at Maekar’s lips. (All of her own worries from a moment ago about him seeing into her shameless soul, gone now. Afraid that he knew, somehow. Even though, there is nothing really to know. Only her own selfish desires and fantasies.) For a moment, she just stares at her son. Then, she says, “And yet, all this time, it seems I could have been confiding in you, my littlest Egg.” Egg’s smile falters, just a little. And again, he surprises Maekar with his keen intuitiveness when he says, “I am sorry, mother. For trying to kill my brother. For trying to slay my kin. Uncle Baelor reminded me, not too shortly before the Trial, that we must love our brothers. And I do.” Maekar sees his eyes shining, but he doesn’t cry. She is proud again when he steels himself to speak up again. But her heart breaks again at his next words. “And that is why I hate him.” Egg says, “Because he is supposed to love me. Like a brother should love a brother. Like your brothers love you. Like Uncle Baelor loves you.” His bottom lip trembles as he looks from his uncle to his mother and says, “But he doesn’t.” Maekar sighs softly. Says, with little regret to Aerion at this point at all, “I fear he does not know how to love at all.” She sighs again. Then, holds her hand out to her youngest. Egg sniffs quietly. Shuffles just as quietly around his uncle’s bed and over to his mother. Maekar gently pulls him to sit upon her lap. Lets him rest his back against her front. Wraps her arms around his middle. Smiles to herself when his hands find hers, his fingers lacing through hers. She presses a kiss to his temple, then, presses her smile to his shoulder and just appreciates the moment with her son. Even while her sad violet eyes linger on her half lifeless brother. “Does he heal or do we simply wait?” Egg asks after a few moments of comfortable silence. His voice but a whisper, as if he doesn’t want to disturb the air around them. “Both.” Maekar says after a moment of still staring at her brother. “He heals physically. His wound has showed no signs of infection. The stitching has kept. He breathes steady. He doesn’t bleed anymore... He is no longer pale.” She feels Egg gently squeeze her hands before he says, “He will wake, mother. I know it.” Maekar smiles, sad, but amused as she presses her cheek to his and asks, “Oh? And how do you know it?” Egg grins happily as he tells her, “It’s what I came to tell you, but I forgot, because I was trying not to cry in front of you, and then, we were having a nice moment—Daeron had a vision before the Trial of Seven; he told Ser Dunk that he saw a dragon with massive wings that would fall upon Ser Dunk and that that dragon would then rise from steel and blood.” Maekar’s smile slowly disappears as she listens to his words. He is clearly excited, so, she does not want to dampen his cheer, nor worry him. Though, she does ask as casually as possible, “Where is your brother right now?” “Wherever the ale is, I should wager.” Egg says nonchalantly. Still, it breaks a smile back onto Maekar’s face. She chuckles and playfully squeezes his middle and tells him, “The only reason I let you get away with your lip with me is because you’re smart enough to not do it in front of others. Never forget that, you little troublemaker.” Egg simply smirks to himself.