A Dragon Never Regrets

8 Days Earlier.

Maekar can see the look irritation on her brother’s face. But it is the disappointment that stings her the most. It feels like he is disappointed in her, rather than her little shit of a son. Maekar has had enough. Has seen enough. And as the crowds begin to grow unruly, she rises from her seat beside her brother. With gritted teeth, she shoots her boy one last glare before making her way down the stands. Baelor closes his eyes for a moment, just to calm his anger at his nephew. His eyes spring open just as his sister brushes hastily passed him. He would call out to her, but she is already disappearing around the corner of their stand. Baelor glances over the muddy field. His eyes lock with Aerion’s. And Baelor has to clench his jaw to keep from snapping when his nephew simply shrugs at him—like he hasn’t just caused a damn horrid spectacle.

20 Minutes Later.

”—afraid not, my lady.” “Well, why the fuck not?!” Baelor stops just a couple of feet from the door. Which is closed, but of course, not even stone walls could keep his sister’s fury quiet. He would smile in amusement to himself, if he wasn’t so worried for her worrying over her missing child—and worrying about Egg for himself. Ser Donnel, as he always is in the presence of the Princess, tries to keep his voice steady and confident when he speaks to her. “My lady, I swear to you, we are doing all that we can to ensure Prince Aegon is returned safely to you.” “And clearly, it’s not fucking enough!” Maekar snaps back, only half yelling. (For now...) Baelor means to put the poor guard out of his misery; he knocks on the door. “Fuck off!” Baelor does smile to himself then. And with a roll of his eyes, he opens the door anyway. “Are you fucking deaf?! I said—“ “I heard what you said.” Maekar blows out an annoyed huff upon seeing him, but is already calming down considerably. Though, she does rolls her eyes as her brother shuts the door behind him, turns away from Ser Donnel and glares at Baelor while telling him, “Will you please tell your Royal Guard that he is fucking useless?!” Baelor meets Ser Donnel’s widened gaze of fear. Baelor sends the guard the same soft and apologetic smile he sends every unwilling soul that finds themselves at his sister’s mercy. Then, turns to his sister, shoots her a withered look and tells her, “I will not be telling him such.” Maekar points an angry finger at her brother. Narrows her eyes and hisses out, “If you tell me to calm down right now, so help me, Baelor—“ “Maekar.” It only ever takes him one time to say her name firmly like that; to shoot her that stern look that tells her not to fall apart in front of others. And the only reason she always shuts the fuck up at his command, is because she knows he only commands her to keep her safe; to keep her sane. Maekar clamps her mouth shut. Though, she still can’t help glaring at him after glancing at Ser Donnel, who is now staring at them both warily. With a sigh that sounds more like a huff, Maekar rolls her eyes, but turns away from them both. Walks over to the desk and fixes herself a goblet of wine. The burn of the Dornish spices on her tongue and down her throat begin to sooth her instantly. “Ser Donnel, will you leave us, please?” “Of course, Your Grace.” Baelor waits for Ser Donnel to close the door behind him. Turns to face Maekar. Watches her down half a goblet of wine. Sighs quietly. Says, “It will not dull the ache.” “No,” Maekar agrees. Stares thoughtfully down into the goblet after refilling it. Sniffs quietly and says, “But it will dull the world around me.” She knocks back a few big gulps. Stares back down into the goblet, and through a mumble, adds, “For a time, at least.” “We will find him.” Baelor says. Walks slowly over to stand beside her. Maekar chuckles quietly. Shakes her head. Looks at him. Says, “You don’t know that.” Baelor tries to ignore the sorrowful look in her eyes. The worry etched onto her lovely face. (Still the loveliest face he has ever laid eyes on. And it is still always marred with some kind of regret, or grievance.) He reaches out, carefully plucks the goblet from her hand and places it back down on the desk. Then, tells her, “I know you cannot drown your soul in wine.” Maekar arches a brow, begs a differ as she nods and tells him, “I really can.” A smile tugs at Baelor’s lips. He rolls his eyes. Says, “Alright, then. What I meant to say is; I will not let you.” Maekar rolls her eyes right back. Both deeply touched and a little annoyed that he won’t just leave her be and let her drink herself to fucking death. (Or at least, into a nice long coma...) It is no new thing when Baelor presses his hands to her cheeks before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. All the same, Maekar still finds her heart stuttering, her skin crawling pleasantly and her eyes fluttering for just a few seconds. He doesn’t notice as he moves away from her—he never notices. Which is fine by Maekar, as like always, she needs the moment to bring herself back to reality. Baelor steadies his breathing as he walks over to take a seat beside the warmth of the fireplace. He does not know why he tempts himself. He only wants to comfort her, but he simply cannot help it sometimes; finally gives in to the urge to just to touch her, just for a moment. Maekar grabs the goblet. Looks over her shoulder to see Baelor staring into the fire. Quickly downs the rest of the wine before placing the goblet silently back down. (She doesn’t need him scolding her some more, she thinks she just might slap him.) Today has been a total fucking shit show. Maekar walks over to take the seat opposite her brother. Leans back in her seat as he is leant forward in his, but is now staring at her instead of the fire. Maekar stares back at him. Rolls her eyes when he smiles softly at her. Finally cracks a smile of her own when he chuckles. Watches him slowly lean back in his own seat. Watches him watch her some more. Then, after the familiar comfortable silence, glares tiredly and says, “You said we were only going hunting.” Baelor nods. Looks regretful. But tries reason as he reminds her, “Yes. But Lord Ashford was gracious enough to invite us here.” Maekar rolls her eyes again. Scoffs loudly. Tells him, “Gracious, ñuha qogralbarosa naejos! {my fucking tits!} We are merely the main attraction of his daughter’s name-day.” She scoffs out a chuckle. Amusedly adds, “He almost fell off his horse with giddiness when you agreed to come.” Scoffs again, mutters, “Bloody fool.” Baelor leans forward in his seat again. Starts warily with, “I do not think Daeron is telling the truth about Egg.” Maekar chuckles. Nods. “I know, brother. Little shits all think they can lie to me.” She smirks smugly as she looks into the fire. Baelor relaxes at that. (He thought she might be angry at him for trying to accuse her son. But yet again, his sister surprises him.) He smiles, chuckles. Reminds hers, though, fondly, “I remember that you were not so different with our own mother.” Maekar scoffs again. Scowls and tells him, “Not because I’m their mother. I excel at sniffing out lies, brother. It’s why you keep me so close to your side.” She smirks again, adds, “You are too trusting.” “I merely believe in offering benefit of doubt.” Baelor replies, just about manages to keep the smugness from his tone—because no matter how old they both grow, she is still his youngest sibling who brings out the occasional snark from him. Again, Maekar rolls her eyes. Then, after a few more moments of comfortable silence, she plasters on a smile in her current misery, but is actually sincere when she tells him, “Valarr did well today.” (Though, he does well at most things, because he is much like his father—Maekar is never too surprised, but is always proud.) Baelor offers a smile of appreciation. Nods. Says, “He makes plans to travel to Dorne after his one-and-twentieth name-day.” Which, in short, means Valarr still hates the idea of being a future King. Maekar can’t say she blames him for trying to run from his responsibilities. “He will come back.” Maekar says with a knowing smile. “He will miss you too much.” (He has been rather clingy since his mother passed. Maekar can’t say she blames the boy for that either.) Baelor simply nods; simply hopes. Simply tells her, “Aerion is not your fault.” Because he can already see it written plainly in her anything but plain pretty violet eyes. Maekar turns her head slowly and with a sad look in her eyes and a tinge of helplessness in her tone, she asks, “Then, whose, brother?” “He was a wonderfully sweet boy once.” Baelor reminds her. “Yes.” Maekar nods. Sighs. Looks back to the fire and says, “And now, he has gravely injured a man and his horse in a simple girl’s name-day, probably mentally scarring she and the rest of the Free Folk that were watching, for life.” Baelor slips from his seat. Kneels down in front of her. Takes her right hand in both his own hands. Waits until she is looking at him again. Then, tells her, “We will do all we must for all of your boys. I will be beside you in this. You will decide, and I will support your decision; enforce it for you.” Maekar smiles faintly. Meekly asks, “And if I asked you to decide for me instead?” Baelor nods. Doesn’t hesitate to tell her, “Then, I will do so.” Maekar chuckles quietly. Shakes her head. Places her left hand on top of his. Says, “I have already failed enough as a mother. I cannot keep failing.” Baelor already knew that would be her answer. Though, that doesn’t make his answer any less real. He is still proud of her. He shakes his head and tells her, “I have never known you to fail at anything, Maekar.” (If it weren’t for “The Anvil” and her stamina and brute strength, Baelor would never be known as “The Hammer” that won the Blackfyre Battle; the Gods damn Rebellion itself.) “I have been thinking of sending Aerion to the Free Cities. Maybe to the East.” Maekar says, “I do not know if it will help, but I will try whatever I can.” Despite the situation, Baelor grins slightly as he sarcastically says, “I am sure he will enjoy himself.” Maekar snorts quietly, can’t help grinning a little, too. “Well, then, mayhap he should start to think twice about his foolish actions.” Baelor chuckles. Gives her hands a soft squeeze before slipping back up into his chair beside her. Maekar clasps her hands together to saver the warmth she already misses from his own. “When we return home,” Baelor begins, smiles hopefully at her as he says, “We can go on that hunt. Just you and I. If you should like.” Maekar smiles back and nods—because yes, she should very much like. Baelor’s mismatched eyes brighten. Hands clasped together, fingers twirling his rings on both hands. Voice, not quiet steady as he says, “I have missed our time alone. We get so little, the older we grow.” Maekar notes him fiddling with his rings—something he only does when he’s nervous. She frowns slightly, shoots him an odd look before reminding him, “We always have time alone.” Baelor fights back the roll of his eyes. Smiles faintly. Says, “I meant, for more than just a mere hour at most.” (He meant for more than just discussing their duties or their children.) “Oh.” Maekar stares thoughtfully into the fire. Looks back at him. Says, “We could go fishing.” “Fishing?” Baelor chuckles, looks surprised. “What?” Maekar shifts defensively in her seat. She frowns (almost pouts). Tells him, “I like fishing now. It’s very relaxing.” Baelor nods. “OK. Fishing, it is.” After a few moments of silence, Maekar glares over at him as she snaps out, “Egg likes to fish. I didn’t like it, at first, but it has slowly grown on me!” Baelor barely holds back a laugh, though, the amusement is clear is his tone when he says, “I did not say a word.” “Yes, well, you were mocking me in your thoughts. I know you, brother.” Maekar grumbles, leans back in her seat and crosses her arms over her chest and glares into the fire. Baelor hides a smirk behind his hands, elbows resting on the arms of his chair. Though, it only spreads across his lips in utter delight when he lifts a foot to gently nudge her own and she completely ignores him.