A Dragon Never Regrets

“I fucking knew it!” Maekar chuckles, shakes her head. She doesn’t know whether to feel annoyed or impressed (as she ever is with him.) Baelor feels himself flush, and as always, is happy for his beard hiding his cheeks. Though, he notes her eyes darting to his heated ears, making her shoot him a teasing grin. He shrugs his shoulders, rolls the few peanuts in his hands around and hopes that he doesn’t sound a fool when he tells her, “I did not wish to embarrass him in front of you. It was your first time seeing him in the arena. And I will be honest, when he asked to challenge me, even though it was merely for sport of his courtship with you, there was a moment where I wished to impress you.” He doesn’t dare look up at her, instead, quickly adds, “His reputation proceeded him, and I will also admit that he did almost have me bested by sword.” He looks up when she chuckles. Feels himself relax wholly as he watches her grab a few grapes and shove them into her mouth. “You never need to impress me, Baelor. If anyone, on this Gods forsaken planet, you are the only person I have ever looked up to. When we were children, you had only need lift a bloody sword and I would think you some magnificent God of War.” Baelor should feel happy over her words. And he is. But she answers like she has never noticed the lingering way he looks at her. He knows he is being too subtle. And without acting odd, he does not know how to speak any other way to her. But maybe if she does not notice, it is because she is not meant to; because she is not meant for him... No. He cannot believe that. At least, if she is not meant for him, he still knows; still feels in his heart that he has only ever belonged to her. He will try, and he will fail, only if he must. But if he does not fail... His heart threatens to build on that spark of hope he has always had for them, just thinking about his potential success. Baelor chuckles softly. Smiles fondly, while his tone is teasing as he says, “Most young girls dream of prettier things than War.” Maekar scoffs out a chuckle of her own. Counters with a pointed look, “I grew up with all brothers, hardly any women in the family, and was told, since I could understand speech, that I was ‘Blood of The Dragon.’” Baelor nods; can’t argue with that. Pops a couple of peanut into his mouth. Stares thoughtfully into space and says, “Dyon was most gracious; he, too, believed I held back; told me so afterwards.” Maekar chuckles, nods, says, “Yes, he told me, and told me that he told you as well. I spent the first few years of our marriage trying to convince him not to ask you for a rematch, because I knew you would just hold back again.” She rolls her eyes, another teasing grin spread across her lips as she tuts and adds, “Always so bloody humble.” Baelor scoffs out laughter. He has a smart-arse answer ready on the tip of his tongue for her, but is interrupted by some commotion just outside of the room. “Let go!” Baelor’s eyes meet his sister’s, while they are both mid-chew (now finally, halfway through the delicious cherry pie that Lord Ashford’s thoughtful servants added to the tray without any requests.) “Let go, Aerion!” Baelor’s eyes squeeze shut in both tiredness, and then, slight panic when Maekar’s eyes narrow with pure anger. His eyes then spring open when he feels the bed beneath him move. Tries to open his mouth to speak, but she is already all but ripping the damn door open. “Stop your bloody squirming, you little—“ “What the fuck is going on?! It is night and we are guests in someone else’s home, you little shits!” Maekar’s voice is a hissing whisper of fury. “Oh, I’m a little shit, hm?” Aerion scoffs, his voice not quite a whisper, but not quite daring enough to be raised either. “What about this little arsehole? I found him trying to desert us, again!” “That’s not true!” Egg snips, though, Baelor hears how unconvincing he sounds. Only Gods know how his sister has such patience for her children, because they are the only people on the planet she has it for (not even Baelor himself is safe, though, that is rare for him to really anger or upset her...thankfully.) “You lie! Again!!” Aerion scoffs louder. “Everyone knows you’re the little king of lies!” “At least I know how to lie without crying to mother about it afterwards!” Egg snaps back without missing a beat. Baelor has to purse his lips to keep from chuckling or even tempting himself with a smile at that. “You little fu—“ Egg’s gasp is cut off with Maekar grinding out her words, “Oh, I don’t think so!!” Baelor finally heaves himself up onto his feet and hobbles over to the doorway as fast as he can. He gets there just in time to see Maekar grab Aerion’s wrist before yanking his hand from Egg's wrist. For the moment, Baelor keeps his thoughts to himself, as he ever does when his sister is speaking with her children (unless she “tags” him in to help her, which is rarely.) Egg darts out of range when his brother tries to grab him again. Glares and sticks his tongue out at him when he reaches the safety of his uncle’s side. Baelor reaches down at pats the boy on the head. Offers a him a gentle smile before looking over at his sister and her other son. “I am so very nearly fucking done with you, Aerion.” Maekar lifts a finger when her son opens his mouth to speak. Aerion slowly clamps his lips tightly together in a half-hearted glare of his own. “If I ever see or hear that you have put hands on your brother; that you have harmed him in any way, Aerion, I will break both your hands, and I will do it with a fucking song in my heart, because I know it will be just.” Maekar stares up at him, unwavering, calm, but more than fucking stern and final. “Now, do you understand me, boy?” It takes a moment, she can see the defiance wanting to crawl passed the look in his almost identical violet eyes, but Aerion simply blinks slowly and just as slowly replies, “Yes, mother.” Baelor knows, like most of the Kingdom, Aerion is scared of Maekar, which is why, he guesses, the boy is such a wretch when he is without her watchful eye on him. Still, Baelor is ever impressed with how his little sister can make grown men quiver before her (even if they are her own children, too.) “No, no, no.” Maekar chuckles bitterly. “Being your mother clearly has not worked for anyone. You will—until I see fit—address me as your General.” Aerion now does glare at her. Though, he doesn’t dare talk back to her as he replies—with a bit of bite to his tone, “Yes, General.” Maekar arches a brow. Smirks lightly up at him. Commands him to: “Say, ‘I understand, General.’” (If he likes to humiliate people, she shall give him tastes of his own medicine until he either breaks or fucking apologises to all he has ever wronged.) Aerion huffs out a bitter chuckle. Shakes his head. But still, he just about calmly manages to do as he is told. “I understand, General.” Baelor is fighting with all his inner strength not to burst out laughing or to even smile. And glancing down at Egg, who is not even trying; smirking smugly over at his older brother, Baelor then, finds himself having to try even harder. “Good.” Maekar smiles happily. Then, shoots her son an annoyed look, and with a dismissive wave of her hand, says to him, “You understand. Now, fuck off from my sight for a while.” This time, Baelor is screwing his eyes shut and covering his mouth in desperate attempts to keep his amusement to himself. Egg takes the time that he has with his mother’s back to him to grin triumphantly up at his arsehole brother as well as throwing in a cheeky wave (even while knowing he will come to regret it one day. But not today!) Maekar keeps her firm gaze on Aerion until he is finally turning the corner and out of her sight, like she just ordered him to. Then, at Egg’s little chuckle, she swirls around to place her firm gaze on him instead. His eyes widen, his lips purse, and he then, nods when his mother points passed his uncle. Turns on his own heels slowly and shuffles into her room until he is stood by the desk. He eyes the knife lying there; the one he almost killed Aerion with. He feels guilt and shame still, but also, regret for not actually doing it. Baelor glances over his shoulder at the boy. Then, looks at his sister and says, “I will make myself scarce for the time being.” Maekar scoffs quietly. Points her finger passed him again, and says, in a tone almost as stern as the one she used with Aerion, “You will get the fuck back inside and continue with your healing.” Baelor can’t help the chuckle that puffs passed his lips. If he wasn’t too tired to argue, he probably wouldn’t anyway. He never could with her. (On top of that, she really does look like she may kill someone tonight if anymore drama unfolds before the Sun even has a chance to rise...) Baelor nods and slowly turns back to shuffle into the room just as his littlest nephew had done mere moments ago. He gives Egg an encouraging smile before settling himself back onto the bed, back now resting against the headboard as he quietly watches his sister close the door behind them. “Un-fucking-believable.” Maekar mutters to herself, irritation clear in her tone. “The first one doesn’t know how to stay sober. The second one is a raging sociopath. The third one doesn’t want anything to do with me. And the fourth one doesn’t know how to tell the truth...” Egg shrinks under his mother’s narrowed eyes. Baelor dares not meet his nephew’s gaze when he feels his little violet eyes flit over to him for a little mercy. (This is the only jurisdiction he does not have, over anyone.) Though, of course he feels guilt for not helping, the boy must learn, as any boy must. Maekar glances at the small lump under the left side of Egg’s cloak. She tilts her head, walks closer to him, gently swats his hood down from his fuzzy bald head. Then, looks him in the eye—the only time she knows he cannot lie to her—and knowingly asks him, “How much of mine and Ser Duncan’s conversation did you hear?” Baelor stares at Egg now—having been told by his sister that Ser Duncan spoke with her twice. (Once of her request, just the day after he fell into a coma, and then, the second, of Ser Duncan’s request, just three days before he woke from his coma.) “All of it.” Egg says, some regret in his voice, though, it is mostly sadness Maekar detects, and in his eyes, too. It makes her own eyes sadden a little. She sighs, says, “Then, you know why I said what I said.” When Maekar kneels down before her son, Baelor feels his own heart throb with sadness. Feels his throat tighten when she gulps silently and says, “You are my last son. My last hope, my littlest Egg.” Egg feels his mother’s words deep in his bones. Opening the raw wounds as his mind flashes back to Ser Dunk lying motionless in the mud. When he had felt his last hope almost die, as Ser Dunk had almost died. “I do not mean to sound like a clingy Dornish mother right now, but—do you really wish to leave me, son?” Maekar has never begged for anything in her life. But she is on the very verge of begging right now. She is on her knees before him. The only persons she’s she has ever knelt in respect for are her father and brother. But now she kneels in nothing but hurt and silent pleas. “Maekar,” Baelor keeps his tone soft, so that she will not snap at him, but firmly reasonably, so that she may understand, what he thinks he understands when looks at his nephew’s lost expression. “Skoros lo bisa iksis daor nūmāzma ao? {What if this is not about you?}” He knows Egg is still halfway through his studies of their old native tongue, which is another reason Baelor keeps calm. Maekar glares over her son’s shoulder, but her tone only borders on harsh hissing as she asks her brother, “Se skoros lo bona qogralbarosa azantys dōrī maghagon zirȳla arlī? {And what if that fucking knight never brings him back??}” Baelor stares back at her. Shoots her a pointed look, because he knows her, he thinks, better than anyone. More tells her than asks her, “Se skoros lo bisa iksis aōha mōrī speranz syt aōha mōrī tresy? {And what if this is your last hope for your last son?}” He half regrets saying anything at all when her lovely violet eyes then dim a little. Though, not just with sadness, this time, but with the beginning hints of her resolve slowly crumbling. Maekar’s head hangs low between her shoulders. She breathes out her defeat, though, will not admit such until she is certain of this entire ridiculous fucking notion. She lifts her head, stares directly back into her son’s eyes, but this time, her voice is less firm and more tired as she says, “Speak freely, Aegon. I will not be angry of your true feelings.” Egg glances briefly at his uncle, sees his uncle smile encouragingly. Turns his gaze back to his mother, who is still knelt before him and looks less annoyed than before. He sighs, nods, says, “I wished to go with Ser Dunk with your blessing. But once I knew that would never happen, I did plan to leave anyway.” He quickly adds, like he thinks it will make his mother like the hedge knight any more, “I would have lied to Ser Dunk; I would have told him you allowed me to go with him, because I know for sure that he would have returned me to you.” He also, can’t help adding, with a fond smile, “He would have said he should give me a clout around the ear, but he always says that, and he hasn’t yet.” Baelor ducks his head to hide a fond smile of his own (just in case his sister should glance at him and see.) Maekar can’t help the small smile that tugs at her lips. Even though she really does want to glare and swear her head off right now—as always, her littlest Egg disarms her without even trying. Baelor smiles openly now as he watches his sister press her forehead to her son’s. Watches as she cups a hand to the back of his little neck. Watches as she lifts her head to press a soft kiss to his forehead. Maekar sighs long and loud as she slowly pushes herself back up onto her feet. She glances at her brother, who offers an annoyingly knowing little smirk. She rolls her eyes at him before looking back down at her son and telling him, “If still wish to go off with your hedge knight with my blessing, you will bring him here, to me, and to your uncle—” She motions to her brother with a tilt of her head, eyes still on her son as she continues with, ”—on the morrow, or technically, in 3 and a half hours time. But for now, you will sit here with your uncle and I, and you will fill your belly with the last bloody decent bit of food I can give you before I let you go off into the wild to eat only the Gods know bloody what.”