Imagine you are a maiden whoâs been in service at Summerhall and you capture the attention of its lord.
Warnings: mediĂŚval like; fluffy; light reading; smut; canon divergence (Iâm making Maekarlings happy ok?); long post.
***
⢠(I): The Children of the Lord of Summerhall.
Few bards look upon fair maidens who walk amidst peasantries. In the pursuit of being championed by the high born, they do not write beautiful chansons deemed worthy of such women. That is only because they do not know you yet.
You are born and raised in Stormlands and have been a widow for many years now. Brynden Storm was his name, most likely because he was born within these Baratheon lands. It was not the best of the matchesâhe was not an appropriate suitor, but his service as a squire to that house made him enough land and gold to become a prospect to you.
As an illegitimate daughter of a knight, whose mother did not survive childbirth, your origins are as obscure as any maiden of your position would claim. Yet, it is mostly because of your handsomeness that you were soon married to Ser Brynden at the age of six and ten.
A decade followed and now here you are, working as maid at the royal household of Prince Maekar of House Targaryen.
Gods know how fortunate was I in earning this service. All thanks to my late mistress, Dyanna Dayne, who was soon informed of my struggles as a widow since Brynden was a fool who spent most of his gold.
You were ever discreet. You liked doing what you did. And it was right after the demise of the good lady that your life would change for good.
*
It is Daella who notices you first.
âExcuse meeeeâ, the little girl is no more than four years of age when she spots you cleaning the library.
You turn at the princess of sand hair and lilac eyes with a gentle smile.
âYes, little lady? Is there anything you would like?â
She seems to examine you, as if she is determining if you are worthy of her trust. As you kneel to match her height, the princess is positively certain she can trust in you. So she steps to where you stand and says:
âI am bored and my sister is too young to make me company. My other brothers donât want to play with me, although Aemon just read me a story.â
âYou can keep me company if you likeâ, you offer gently; youâve always liked children, whether high or low born, and you are patient too, which is why you judge this makes you an easy target for toddlers.
Daella does so. She takes a seat at a chair and says:
âWhat are you doing?â
âCleaning the libraryâ, you explain patiently.
âIt seems a boring thing to do.â She tilts her head, eyeing you curiously. âDo you not have servants to do that?â
You laugh heartily at her remark. Then you flash her a mischievous smirk:
âI am a servant, my little lady.â
âBut you are so beautiful!â, pouts the princess.
You wiggle your eyebrows at her, hands on your waist when striking this pose:
âMy little lady must understand that, as thankful as I may be for the praise, this is not very kind to suggest servants cannot be beautiful too.â
She ponders your words and blushes.
âIâm sorry.â
âItâs fineâ, you lean close to her and pat her hair. âDo you want to tell me about your day as I finish cleaning?â
âCan I clean it too?â, she asks, excitedly.
âI do not think so, your father would not like it.â
âBut my lady, heâs not here!â
You smirk at her and she smirks back.
We are too mischievous for our own good.
âVery well thenâ, you pass her a cloth wet in vinegar, instructing her to be very careful when passing it over the table.
Daellaâs eyes sparkle with excitement and you chuckle at her naivety.
Gods made me love children even if I cannot have mine.
For Gods know how you tried to conceive, even if the man you were espoused to had⌠did not do his duty as he should. You swallow, however, and let the past remain where it is: in the past.
*
Aerion spots you carrying two buckets under a heavy sun and although the little prince prefers to busy himself with sword practice, there is something about your face that evokes him some sympathy.
Besides, he could still recollect his mother telling him that a good knight must always aid a woman in need. So why not helping you?
âMy ladyâ, the boy is no more than ten summers. Heâs every inch a Valyrian creature, even if youâve barely seen his father to notice the similarities. âDo you need help?â
âI am no lady, my lordâ, you flash him a gentle smile. âBut I appreciate your kindness.â
He hesitates. Then he says:
âA good knight must help a woman in needâ, and he takes a bucket. âMy mother used to say so.â
The household has been experiencing the loss of their mistress and you are not insensitive to it.
The children need their mother.
âIâm sorryâŚâ
You are cut as so suddenly you and Aerion hear a yell:
âAERION TARGARYEN, WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?â
Both of you are startled by the sudden presence of Maekar Targaryen. Your eyes are slightly wide upon noticing his well built muscles under black leather. He is tall and strong, and his features may be rough, evoking a masculinity that youâve only seen portrayed in chansons.
A war hero, as I know. Hardened by circumstances, he is not known as the anvil for no reason. But Gods he is blessed with handsomeness, even though heâs hidden behind his force, which I suspect it is brought to exasperation at the death of the woman he loved.
Aerion sulks at being reprehended.
âI was merely being a good knight to this poor woman like mother taught me to.â
The mention of his late wife sensibilizes the lord. But when noticing you, it appears he hesitates in demonstrating some affection. You blush, feeling an intruder in it.
âWell⌠We will discuss it later. Leave the bucket there.â It is only then he comes at you.
You dare to raise your eyes and it is in this encounter that the lord of Summerhall is perplexed by what he finds in you.
âMy lord, the boy meant no harm. He only wanted to help me.â You flash an apologetic smile, somewhat fearful of a reprehension yourself.
This man has a presence.
Barely you know that his thoughts are centered on you. Your handsome features, eyes so captivating, lips so inviting. Even in peasant robes, with nothing to embellish your features, he is mesmerized by what he sees.
I should not feel anything at all. This woman should not be graced by divine fairness that makes me⌠forget of my own pain. I cannot tolerate it.
Maekar does what he is good at: he pushes you away. Disconcerted by your alluring presence, the prince clings into grief to avoid guilt for desiring youâwhen his beloved wife is deceased for two years now.
It is better to repress it. Attraction, albeit rare to feel, can be subjected to reason. My soul is already cursed with the depart of the object of my affections, the reason of my happiness. I need not to carry one more sin, one more wound to bleed my doomed conscience.
âIt is fineâ, says he coldly. âI know it so.â
Then he asks a servant to help you and walks away, leaving you frustrated as he barely addressed you at all.
But it is the way of lords, foolish woman. What businesses would you care to think having with them?
*
Daeronâs eyes follow you. This day, he actually goes after you and surprises you and Daellaâas well as Rhaeâcleaning together the library.
âAha! I found youâ, says he mischievously.
âPlease, Daeron!â, Dae runs to him. âDo not tell papa!â
You sigh heavily, wishing at times that his lordship would not be so hard on these children.
âI may. Perhaps when you fetch me a good glass ofâŚâ, but he stops himself when he finds your stare. âWhat? She is my sister!â
âYou cannot do as you like with Daeâ, you know you should mind your place, but do you not possess a bold spirit? Not to mention how maternal you are towards these little ladies. âShe is a child.â
âHumâ, says Daeron. Then he takes a seat somewhere. âYou are fond of them.â
âYes, my lord, I am.â You should go back to work and mind your own business, but you cannot hold back your tongue. âWhat is my lord doing here if I may ask?â
âI was looking for my sisters. Aegon mentioned they were not studying as they should, so I came to checkâ, he explains.
You tilt your head.
âAre you held accountable in looking after them?â
Daeron shrugs his shoulders.
âYes. What businessesâŚâ, he cuts himself, as if the young master has been reminded of something. Then he softens to you. âI apologize. I did not mean to be unkind.â
You flash him a warm smile.
âIt is fine, my lord. Few are kind in this life. However I am glad to see that kindness is a trait that flows so naturally in you.â
âI suppose soâ, he murmurs.
âIt is. It reminds me of your lady mother.â
That makes him smile. And also earn his trust. It is how you surprisingly bond with Daeron Targaryen.
*
Maekar arrives home, distressed with the recent malady that attacked his fatherâs health. He needs to be certain that his sons and daughters are doing well.
Perhaps I should gather them together and tell them a story nearby the fireplace.
A tradition initiated by his wife. It pains him to remember sheâs not there, nor will ever be replaced for who could match her presence, equal her spirits?
He closes his eyes for a moment before he walks through that door. Then recomposed, he does so, chin raised and hard eyes set in the scenario so familiar to himâpraying not to find another argument or disputes over books and old toys, nor complaints about that failure fishing of the other day simply because Valarr fished a bigger fish than Aerion.
I pray the Gods hold his temper, otherwise I will get myself stressed. Countless were the times I told him he was an excellent fisher and that mattered more to me than if he fished a fish of such a size. But he is a sulking prince, that he is, this boy of mine.
What surprises him is that he listens to a melody coming from the library. Maekar quickly rushes upstairs, already preoccupied about where this song comes from and whoâs singing itâ-years passed after Dyanna did not survive Eggâs birth and the palace of Summerhall has been in silence ever sinceâwhen heâs shocked to see you.
Again.
Singing.
A sweet melody, a chanson so beautiful that his daughters are sat on the floor, completely mesmerized by your voice as if you are a goddess.
Fuck me. What in seven hells is this?
Your eyes twinkle with delight, your smile spreads in the sweetest of the smiles. Your dark hair is tied in a simple braid and you are on your knees, singing as if you areâŚ
Out of this world. Which you may be.
The scene is captivating. What is more: it has Daeron, his son, playing the lute.
Which he hasnât been doing since his mother left us in this world.
It is too much for him. His heart races, tears come uninvited to his eyes. Sentiments long repressed are brought back, uninvited.
But he sweeps away the spring of you, the light your voice evokes as if you are casting a spell. No. He is not ready for it. He refuses to be confronted with this iliac scene.
Maekar closes his eyes.
And chooses his pride, walking away.
***
⢠(II) A Trick of Gods.
To Maekarâs consternation, when heâs tucking his princesses in bed and finishes to pray with them, he is told that the reason why they improved their prayer is because of you.
âWhat? What heresy is this? A peasant womanâŚâ
âThe peasant woman has a name, dear papaâ, says Daella, shooting his father a defiant stare. âCan you address her as such?â
It occurs Maekar that he doesnât know your name. What does he know about you? The realization leaves him baffled and it is evident as his daughters exchange glances and giggle.
âWhat? We have many servants. You cannot expect me to remember their namesâ, says Maekar, more to himself than to his nine and seven year old daughters.
âWell, you should, dear papa. It is unkind to treat them rudely. They are good people. Besides, mistress Y/N is very kind.â
âShe is so beautiful, thoughâ, adds Rhae in a matter-of-fact tone.
âI knowâ, agrees Daella, grinning. âI told her the other day she must have a noble ancestry. Do you see how delicate areâŚâ
Maekar clears his throat, disturbed by the perception of his daughters.
âGods, how often have you been spending time with her?â
Itâs the ever bold Dae who says:
âPapa, you are often away with the boys. Mistress Y/N has been so kind in staying with us. She makes sure we study, so you need not to look so concerned.â
Maekar sighs almost exasperatedly.
And here was I thinking I was doing my best to my family. Fuck.
âI havenât been the most present papa lately, hum?â, he then crawls to sit in between them in bed, placing his arms over each daughter. âYou are my little princesses. Papa loves each one.â
âWe know, papaâ, says Rhae, looking at him with eyes so filled with innocence that makes Maekar smile and soften before her. âWe love you too.â
âThat we doâ, agrees Daella. âNow, would you kindly read us a story before we go to bed?â
Maekar smiles again and opts to tell a story about a prideful king and the maiden who humbled him.
âWhat king is this?â, asks Daella, intrigued.
He looks at his curious, lively daughter and says:
âIt is a Valyrian king. Of the old days.â
Then he hears what his daughter believes he would not:
âHe is making them upâ, she whispers to Rhae.
Maekar clears his throat.
âI have good ears, do you know that?â
They both giggle and once they go quiet, Maekar tells a story that, indeed, he made upâbut also brought him to confront himself.
*
He finds you coming out of the kitchen, straightening the hair veil to cover your braids and the skirts of your worn out gown. It is blue, he notices, which reinforces the color of your eyes.
And then you notice him.
Perplexed, you stare⌠but you dip to a curtsy, reminding your place.
âMy lordâ.
âMistress Y/Nâ, it is the way he speaks your name that makes your eyes wide, âMay we have a word?â
You fear for what comes next, but you face it chin raised.
âIndeed, my prince.â
He leads you to the quarters where he uses to resolve his businessesâor to settle quarrels involving his vassals.
Taking notice of your apprehension, he says:
âFear not, I am not here to dismiss you of your services. It is justâŚâ, his back is on you as he indicates a seat for you to take, and once you do, he turns with a glass of wine to serve you. âMy daughters are very fond of you.â
You take the glass offered, reluctant as how this should go.
Maekar takes his seat in turn and for the first time heâs seen who he isâno mask is there to conceal his true sentiments, and there is an agony behind his eyes that knocks out whatever reservations you might have had in considering his character.
âAnd I am fond of them, my lordâ, you add. âThey are very kind.â
Maekar leans his back in the chair, never parting the gaze he casts youâand you feel discomforted, as if he could read you, accessing easily your poor, wounded soul.
You dare not to look back, but it is inevitableâhis presence exerces such power, that you are drawn to his lilac gaze.
Oh Gods. I stare at my perdition, and it stares back; have I not suffered enough? Have I not made sacrifices and pilgrimages? Must now I endure the arrow craved in my poor heart?
âThat I knowâ, says Maekar, soft still. âThey are my only daughters. I⌠I cannot let them anywhere with any person.â
âYou do your best as a father, my lord, I know it.â
He makes an indistinct noise, looking away for a moment before stopping his gaze on you.
âMy sons seem to like you so.â Then you detect a curiosity glinting behind his eyes. âIt appears you have good abilities in dealing with nobility. What would you say if you became the governess of my daughters?â
âMy lord?â, you cannot conceal the surprise. âI am not the most proper for the position you offer.â
âThey disagree and from what I see it, so do I.â Maekarâs eyes pierce your soul and you shiver just by staying under his intense gaze.
âIn addition to an evident raise in your salary, you may reside in this householdâ, so you are told, and he can read your expressions as crystal clear as if heâs seeing in the lines of a book.
You are perplexed and somewhat embarrassed of the proposal.
âI cannot accept it, lordâ, it comes out of your tongue before you know it.
He frowns, offended.
âI beg your pardon?â
âI⌠I am your inferior in many waysâ, you dare not to look at him, finding yourself agitated; your face flushes. âHow can I be part of your household? My education is simple. My origins, obscure. I might cast a shadow upon your reputation by this mere association.â
Maekar does not like the answer, most likely because he is not used to receive a ânoâ. Silence hangs rather awkwardly and he waits until your spirits rest.
âMy sons and daughters trust in youâ, and again his intent gaze causes a furor in you.
Gods be good. He is a dragon! It is said these legendary and ancient flying beasts ceased to breathe fire and fly in our skies long centuries ago, but he burns me with his gaze. I feel the flames spitting in my skin, consuming my flesh and burning parts of me for so long cold. What trick is this? Oh for the seven! I am but a humble woman, poor and obscure! Though my heart is made of flesh, it possesses no independent will of the divine, for easily and weakly moves to its trap, a pawn in their game, where my virtuesâif yet I dare to claim any!âare tested.
âReconsider, Madame. I care not about your originsâ, proceeds he, his tone close to a plea. âWhat matters if they shall speak? I will protect you.â
Maekar knows he is at a loss. When looking at you, he is humbled. Where is pride? Where is duty? Neither matters before the will of the Gods, that brought you upon him. A simple creature that captivates his sons and formed a deep bond with his daughters is a reminder of what life can be⌠could be⌠if he disposed of his own vices.
I want her by my side. For the seven, tempt me as you like, but preserve her here! I, not a prince who asks, am a beggar man in need of redemption. From arrogance, grow many branches of vices and these mislead us into the path of pain. Yet, I must sustain myself. As I did once. Not for me, but for my family.
You tilt your head, unable to part the gaze. What is this that moves one to the other? For fear to know the answer, you cede.
âI accept it. I shall rightfully guide the princessesâ, and you speak firmly your terms, âas I see fit; not as royalty determines. I will speak in a language they know.â
âThey are of the blood of the dragonâ, remarks Maekar, softly.
âAnd I will look after them, my lord, but they cannot become bricks. Their heart must be soft, their wit must be sharp, their character must be good.â
You soften too, because he understands at last what you mean. Who you are.
âAnd that being said, I want to hear more of youâ, asks he.
You tilt your head to the right and this time, when your gaze crosses his, the burn doesnât ache; it cools down the intensity, but it leaves space to rise harmony and serenity.
And as Maekar touches his beard, thoughtful, he knows the remedy for his inconsolable soul is in you.
Thus he listens to what you have to tell.
He listens to everything there is to be shared.
And you blush, for the first time seen and heard. For the first time, elevated above your condition.
***
⢠(III) To Profess Repressed Desires.
Aegon is telling you about his expectations to serve Daeron as his squire. This evening, the Prince of Summerhallâs retinue stops by the court in Kingâs Landing in order to meet Prince Baelor of Dragonstoneâs, hand of the king and presumptive heir to the crown.
Having been received at court, you, despite the strange situation you areâneither a fully noblewoman, nor a peasantâ, settle relatively well. What makes it better is the children you embrace as if they are your ownâ-certainly, they see you as the mother that left them.
âI am not skilled enough to be a bloody knightâ, grumbles Daeron, as if heâs trying to convince his brother for the thousandth time that he will not have him as his squire. âHave you tried Aerion?â
âI do not need one, I passâ, says Aerion, uninterested like always.
Before you can weave a comment, Maekar makes himself heard:
âDaeron Targaryen, the septs say we must love our brothers. Do not neglect your duties to Aegon.â
Daeron gives his father a glare.
âWhat of Aerion?!â
âHe already has a squireâ, snaps Maekar, exasperated.
You see Aerion smirking victoriously to Daeron and shake your head lightly. Then Princess Daella pushes your sleeve lightly and muses:
âMy lady, will we hear the bards sing here? Or at least in the tournament?â
âMy knowledges in tournaments are scarce, my little lady, but perhaps this is a question your father can provide an answer.â
You flash Maekar a grin as he gives you a frown.
âNo, we are not having any bards as long as we are staying at courtâ, says the prince.
âMy lord, what harm will it do in introducing the girls to a bard? Music and poetry exercise a great influence in their good morals, for upon touching their hearts, it will sweeten and soften their characters.â
Maekar sighs, his eyes lingering on yours. They may be stern, but you do not fear them.
In fact, I grew used to him. More than it is appropriate.
The prince eventually cedes.
How can I refuse you anything? The embodiment of innocence, the light of spring. Fuck me. In my ending, she is my beginning.
âVery wellâ, then he looks at his daughters. âBehave, will you?â
He cannot help a small smile when the princesses assure him that he shall not be disappointed. Upon seeing their face lighten up, the prince finds his heart warmedâalmost healed of the wound the departure of his wife left him.
These are the fruits of our love. As much as I remain living a void since she left us, as much as I find consolation in grief, I cannot cast my shadow on my daughters. I cannot deprive them of happiness.
His eyes thus follow you, who gladly take his little princesses, a few inches taller this season as he proudly notices, to the salon next to the private quarters where they are having evening supper.
Then he reclines in his chair, seeming content, but also ignoring the exchange of glances between the three of his sons, who struggle not to chuckle at how evidently his father is besotted with Lady Y/N.
*
You feel the weight of his gaze set on you. The court is mesmerized by the talents of a bard from the Riverlands called Gundhir. He plays the lute and sings in such a way that it helps transmit some mysticism of his figure, since the candlelight reinforces such aura.
You turn your head lightly, capturing his eyes and holding them.
It is inutile to fight this sentiment. Whatever it is that ignites a spark whenever our eyes meet, must be divine, the Gods are only placated when our weak hearts are thundered by these violent desires.
You know this is like aiming too high and try to capture the moon. It shines in dark and alone, despite bathing in the sunâs light. But you are nothing if not a comet.
The realization hurts you and Maekar can see this sadness crossing your eyes and you lower your gaze and break this divine enchantment.
He furrows his eyebrows.
The idea of you in suffering is intolerable to him. By now, you are his maiden, one whose gentle heart and lighted spirits he vows to protect even if he hasnât expressed his sentiments to you yet.
Must you be so out of his reach? Or is it that he, moved by a so long prejudice, is the only one responsible in putting this distance?
The prince stares at you, perceiving the nuances of sentiments that rise from within as if they are magically brought upon from this chanson. That speaks of broken loves, lovers who never end together.
Fuck me. She has no idea of how she torments, has she?
As the melody ends, court begins to dissipate. It is late and the children are led to their private quarters.
Just as you are leading the girls to her private quarters alongside a handmaiden, Maekar comes at you.
You freeze, but you cannot remain in this absurd state. As you instruct the lady and you put kisses over the girlsâs forehead, you turn at him.
âY/N.â
âLord.â
âThis is unbearable.â He huffs.
You tilt your head, confusion stamped in your eyes.
âWhat is, Ser?â
Maekar runs his hands over his hair, looking exasperated. In this eyes, there is sorrow, there is pain, and you seem to understand himâbut you fear to.
âI cannot let duty suffocate me and you too.â His hands are now over your waist, pulling you to him.
âMy prince, this is inappropriateâ, you warn him, but you have no forces to fight him.
âRefuse meâ, commands Maekar as if heâs giving orders to a soldier, but his eyes are soften when locked with yours. âDeny me. I shall leave you for once and be tormented in peace. But I must know if I am alone in my sentiments.â
Reason and good sense urge you to leave this man. A peasant you are, however ennobled youâve been. You do not belong there, but does it matter?
For when there is you and him in this sacred corridor, where candlelight is the only witness, it is as if this is the only sign of the presence of invisible deities nearby.
You cup his face; your fingers slowly caress his silver beard and it tickles your soft palms, but you enjoy the sensation. And this prideful prince gives in, leaning against your touch; his vulnerability is captivating, it draws you to him.
His forehead leans against yours and your gaze holds his.
âMy lord, what am I but an obscure maiden? You are of the blood of the dragon and I am a daughter of a simple knight.â
âFrankly, it exhausts me to be subdued by duty most of the times. My lady, you are a creature of the divine, for your good heart excels all others and your virtues are attested by my children, who love you as a mother.â His deep lilac eyes stare so deep in yours, and you lean as if you are taking his invitation to dive in his soul.
âMy lord, what you ask me is impossibleâ, you murmur, your breath mixed to his, your lips brushing against his; the mere proximity warms your body and it is as if you are heretic, close to be burnt alive.
âI shall make it possibleâ, says he with his sternly demeanor.
âAnd is my lord disposed to do it for me?â
You feel his firm hands going from your long dark hair to your waist, and he grips you so intently that it leaves clear his intentions of not letting you go.
âIâd fucking wage a war to make you the mother of my motherless childrenâ, says Maekar, rispidly.
You smile at your prince and you lean your lips against his. It brings a relief to sorrowful hearts, pained souls repressed by an unending sense of duty that suffered with the weight of hierarchy.
But as the kiss grows passionate, titles and lands make no sense. To love and be loved is a cry out of resistance to how the world wants to determine relations.
The anvil has been tamed and you, as some bards would later report playfully, hammered right into his heart.
Whatever the truth behind it, he is yours and you are his. Such is the bliss you experience with this kiss.
*
Maekar, however inflamed he is by desires for you that were long repressed, does not force them upon you. He takes your fingers to his lips and presses a kiss in each.
âI shall wait until my maiden is ready to welcome me in her armsâ, he whispers, pleased to make you blush. âAnd you will be made my wife.â
To seal this vow, he kisses you intently. And you mewl in his embrace, every inch a maiden delighted in the arms of her knight.
*
Upon being told of his brotherâs intentions in making you his second wife, Baelor Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone, raises his eyebrows. Epically.
âOf all of my three brothers, you were not the one I expected to surprise me, Maekar.â He reclines back in his chair, eyeing his youngest brother with amusement. âY/N seems to be a very special lady if she captivated the most competent commander of the Seven Kingdoms.â
Maekar doesnât meet his gaze, blushing like a foolish lad. He is remembered of when they were young princes and Baelor praised his strength to their father.
Suddenly, the prince finds interest in his rings.
âWell, that she is.â Maekar grumbles, before lifting his gaze. âShe may not be a noblewoman, but her virtues esteem her above such station. I may have taken leave of my senses, but alas! If my children are infatuate with this woman, I am not insensible to her charms myself.â
Baelor laughs quietly.
âOf course not.â He watches Maekar shuffle awkwardly in his seat. âI see that, despite your firm decision, you remain preoccupied about my opinion. I am not going to lie, Maekar, you are a prince of the realm, blood of the dragon. But⌠I know you are a good reader of character. I do not think youâd be easily made to a fool by anyone, less so by a beautiful woman. You have never failed in doing your duties to our house. I thereby concede you my blessing to this match, as a hand of the king.â
Maekar nods his head.
âI thank you for this, Baelorâ, he mumbles; the prince was never really a man of much sentimentalism.
Baelor does the same, smiling.
âTo see you happy is to see the seven kingdoms happy, if I may put in that way.â Then with a hint of mischief, he adds: âThere will be talk, you know.â
Maekar raises his eyebrow and says in his characteristic self:
âLet them talk. Fuck them.â
***
⢠(IV) The Anvil & His Summer Maiden.
The ceremony is discreet. With the blessing of the royal family, you are now part of it. You cannot believe yourself how high youâve risen.
âFinally, we are permitted in calling you our motherâ, says Rhae and you lift her up and hug her tight, earning giggles.
âOh, my dear girlâ, you hold her tight, unafraid of being affectionate in public.
âWelcome to our dysfunctional family, my ladyâ, muses Aerion in turn, with a mischievous smirk tugging on the corner of his lips. âMay your patience be continuously testedâŚâ
Maekar interferes with a glare.
âIf you have nothing nice to say, then say nothing at all.â
Aerion pulls a grimace as if heâs indicating he is actually saying something nice. Then he shrugs and gives you a compassion look, which only makes you chuckle.
You save your first dance to the little princesses, who are growing tall as you notice with some sadness. But you do not think too much on it, hoping to enjoy the present instead.
Then you dance with Prince Daeron, who tells you that if he remains skilled in it, itâs only because of his mother.
âI remember hearing her stating to your father how music lessons are as important as sword lessonsâ, you chuckle.
âFather leaves anyone exasperatedâ, teases the prince. âBut if you manage us, you manage him.â
âIndeed, with what all my poor heart permits me toâ, you beam.
Daeron opens a warm smile, sensitive to your sweet disposition.
As the melody ends, however, it is Prince Baelor of Dragonstone who comes at you all the whilst your husband is busy with his daughters.
âPrincess Y/N.â
His voice is soft and he is kind, but the title upon which you are now addressed gives you goosebumps. You pale slightly, despite giving this good prince a smile that matches the sun in his own.
âMy lord, I beseech you to address me asâŚâ, you know not how to put it, ââŚas my lady not as princess.â
âIf it makes you comfortable, we can use names instead. But you are a princess now, though.â Baelor then proceeds: âRegardless of titles and hierarchy, you are part of our family now and I would like to welcome you. My brother is happy, and I never thought Iâd see him so after the loss of his first wife. He is a good reader of character and thus I trust in his judgement in taking you as his second wife.â
âIn every honesty, Your Grace, it was not my intention to take the place my mistress once occupied by my lord husbandâs side. But who can tell how destiny is woven by the Seven?â You flash him a smile. âI loved him through his children. Every son and daughter has the best Maekar has sown in each.â
Whatever reservations Baelor may have had towards your origins, these dissipate upon seeing the genuine light that has enchanted his brother.
I would never be an obstacle to his happiness, but I was worried about him. A good heart is formed not by the excellence of virtues, but how these overcome its vices through the exercise of effort. We are often blinded by the arrogance so natural bestowed upon usâand I lament to see I am not immune to it. But I shall overcome these prejudices as my brother did, and welcome her as the sister I never had. It is the least I can do.
âIt pleases me to say we are brother and sister nowâ, says Baelor, gently. âMay you find in me and in my wife a family you can rely on. That being said, I believe that my lady Dyanna, may Gods rest her soul, would have been just as pleased as we are in seeing Maekar happy again. For that we are all thankful.â
Your face lightens up upon these sincere words. You appreciate them, expressing with tenderness how warmth this welcoming has been. You can tell how you and Baelor will be very good friends, as well as with his wife, the lovely Princess Jenna, who receives you likewise.
Maekar finally comes at you, thus. Heâd given you some space so you are properly introduced to this new world you are now taking part of.
Very discreetly, he takes hold of your arm, linking it with yours and driving you thus to your seat once the banquet is offered.
âHow is my lady fairing?â, he inquires in a whisper.
His eyes take a while at you: your dark locks are let loose for the occasion and they fall in a cascade behind your back, giving you an angelic appearance; you wear a tiara over your forehead, in the manner of the south; as an old inheritance your father legated you, there is a symbol of House Baratheon, responsible for the southern lands, in it. Your eyes, colored in a light shade of blue, are bright and full of life, transmitting the noble virtues of your soul. Your lips, rosy, spread in a smile so sincere and loving when itâs turned at him. Your cheeks blush upon realizing the long, besotted look he casts at you.
Dressed in a silk creamy gown with details in green in long pearled sleeves, you wear rubis in your ears and fingersâa gift of your husband, which heâs pleased to see you wear for this special occasion. The gown also reinforces your curves, which do not go unnoticed by him.
As lovely as a rose, as bright as summer, this fair maiden is my wife.
âYou did not mention much about your former husbandâ, says Maekar, as he serves you two some wine.
You cast him an amused glance.
âIs this the right occasion to speak of my widowhood, Maekar?â
He gives you the same look, which makes you chuckle.
âI do not see why not. One does not feel jealousy of the dead.â
You throw your head back and laugh loudly, a sight the prince loves to behold. His thumb rubs over your skin, hands still intertwined.
âYou are impossible.â
âAemon likes to say heâs got his unending curiosity after me. I can be faulted for it, apparentlyâ, says Maekar with a smirk.
âVery well. I was married very young, when I was close to reach my six and tenth name day. My father thought this squire at the service of House Baratheon was a good suitor for meâ, you tell him.
âI can understand his reasons. But how would you end up serving us in Summerhall?â
âMy husband had a property near there, but when I was acquainted with your lady wife back then I was already a widow. He died as a result of a joust wound.â
But thereâs something in the story that gives away your discomfort. Maekar doesnât like to push it, howeverâŚ
âI do not wish to make you speak of things that leave you upset, my dear wife, soâŚâ
âNoâ, you cut him, a small smile back on your lips. âIâve made my peace with it long time ago. My husband and I never had children because his interests lied elsewhere.â
Maekar stares at you skeptically.
âWait. Does this mean what I think it is?â
âIt was merely a marriage arranged out convenience for himâ, your face goes pink. âHe had⌠other interests.â
For some reason Maekar blushes too.
Fuck me. She is a maiden in every sense of the word. I was not prepared to it. I⌠Oh Gods.
Seeing he is rather anxious, you are quick to add:
âI hope this is not an issue.â
The prince squeezes your hand and says:
âNaturally, it is not. I was worried because⌠I did not expect you were untouched. I do not wish to impose any disconcertment upon you, fearful that he would have harmed you or something similar.â
You give him a mischievous smirk.
âHe was absent. We never bonded, so there was no trauma. I only regret that I wasted a decade of my life and youth.â
Maekar is intrigued.
âFuck me. Then what did you do?â
âI encouraged him to be happy in his way. I did my duty as long as I was allowed to. I do not think I succeeded, however, where womanly role is concerned, which saddens me. I wish I had children of mine, but who can tell what are the Godsâ plans?â
âIt is why you treat my children with such a care and graceâ, muses he with a small smile. âAnd why they clanged onto you as their mother. Iâm pleased that our paths have crossed.â
You and him share a secret smile. He takes the hands intertwined to his lips, pressing a soft kiss over your wrist.
*
It is the end of the feast and you are conducted by your sister by law, princess Jenna, to your privy chambers.
It now occurs you that perhaps you shouldnât have told that you never consummated your first union to Maekar.
Gods be good. What have I done?
Seeing how paled you are, the princess turns at you and says:
âDo not be nervous. It shall occur well. I understand this is your second marriage, isnât it?â
âIt is, but it is the first union that I give my consent willingly.â
âI understandâ, she says with compassion in her eyes. âI lament that you were not fortunate back then, but now the Gods give you a better husband. Iâm sure he is not a brute. Despite what many say of him, he was never disrespectful to any woman, anyone at all in fact.â
âI know. His actions give away his character. It matters to me more than what others sayâ, you tell her with a sweet smile.
She takes a squeeze of your hands and smiles back.
âYou look beautiful, my dear sister.â
âI appreciate your kindness to me more than I can say.â
âWe are family and this contents me soâ, says Jenna, genuinely.
Then she helps you inside the quarters, changing your gown to a line nightgown and brushing your dark locks. The princess gives you a kiss on the cheek and you squeeze her hand before you wait for him.
Dear me.
*
Maekar stops right before the door. Having refused the company of his brother, he fears that is too old for this shit. Not a fan of traditions, he, however, is compelled to preserve them due to his station.
Yet, underneath his mask of duty, there lies a more genuine concern. His only carnal experience with a woman was with his wife. The thought brings some heat to his face.
The realization gives him some guilt. Not regret, for he cannot deny nor refuse the affection he feels deeply for you. Love, is it now how it is called? That the proper name be given where it is due, his conscience reprehends himself.
But Lady Y/N is a maiden. Gods, why would she be married to a man as that squire? Poor woman.
Such thought in fact encourages him to pursuit you. Leaving behind his past, when the door opens, Maekar, in courtly robes, opts to finally live his future.
*
He is taken aback by your handsomeness. Even though you are unaware he is there and he can tell you are slightly nervous, nothing can take his eyes off you.
You are sitting at the edge of the bed, hands wrung over your legs. Your long dark hair is on your back in cascade of heavy locks, and the candles on the bedchamber casts a light upon it,nearly turning into a shade of red.
The line nightgown shows some of skin and his eyes wander from your hair to your face, lingering in these lips he tasted to your neck and shoulders. His gaze does not stop there, curiosity being his ultimate flaw. It runs to your collarbone and through the silk, so white, so transparent, he spots the swells of your firm, round breasts.
Before his mind runs his good sense, Maekar clears his throat lightly so his presence is perceived. You stand quickly, startled.
âMy lordâ, and your eyes drop to his neck and chest.
There is desire. There is lust. There is admiration, but also love.
Maekar smirks. He shortens the distance, respecting your pace. He lifts his hand and caresses your face, and the other he rests behind your neck, beginning to entrance his fingers in your long locks.
âIn private it is just you and meâ, says Maekar, brushing his lips against yours and dwelling in your eyes as you do in his. âFear not, my fair maiden. You shall be loved as you should have been long time ago. Your heart is in mine possession as I rightfully claimed it before the Gods.â
You rest your arms around his neck, smiling.
âMy husband is a poet.â
âOnly because my wife is my museâ, and in saying so, he finally kisses you once seeing you are completely easy in his arms.
Your mouth parts and his tongue snakes into you, pairing with yours in a long, slow rhythm. For now, it is a territory that you have already crossed. You grow confident in it, letting your fingers touch his beard, stroking it as you run your soft palms over his cheeks to behind his neck and then up to play with his silver hair.
He is patient and lets you conduct the rhythm of it. But he is also firm; his hand left hand leaves your hair and rests over your hip, before pressing your back against his frame all the whilst his right hand slowly leaves your cheek to slip to your neck.
The kiss begins to ache in you as it burns him; it is fervent now and passionate, and every feminine part of you pledges for his touch.
For many years, I heard of the pleasures of the flesh. Old or new, women of my surroundings spoke of it with knowledgeâone of the kind I lacked. Oh Gods.
As if heâs reading your mind, Maekar breaks the kiss. Upon seeing fire in your eyes, a slow smirk tugs on the corner of his lips.
âIs my lady ready?â
âYesâ, you are breathless, face going pink.
âCome here, lassâ, and he takes you to bed, where he sits first and gently turns you in front of him. âHow well do you know it?â
You lean close to him, beginning to unlace your nightgown and letting it slip your curves. A smirk tugs on your lips when his eyes follow the movement of the silk.
âEnoughâ, you whisper, hands on his hair, messing with it before slipping to his neck and chest.
âEasy, easyâ, Maekar chuckles. âThis is about you first, my lady, whose first husband was an obnoxious man.â
You laugh heartily.
âMy darlingâŚâ
He holds your gaze with an eyebrow raised.
âAm I lying? You deserve it better.â
With tender and care, Maekar places you to sit on his knee. His head is on your shoulder and he rubs your back before his hand slowly moves to your waist and then to your thigh.
Your breath hitches and you look at his hand, tangling with yours. You part your legs willingly, eyeing him as if posing a silent defiance to your husband.
âSo impatient, my dearâ, Maekar bites your earlobe, he whispers some unspoken things to you as he rises his hand to your womanhood, slipping a finger right to your core.
All the whilst you place his hand over your left breast, whimpering as this fire so repressed, that you long believed to never have existed within, begins to burn.
The princeâs lips are now slowly brushing over your neck, holding your breast, feeling it firm and hard under his palm. Maekar groans against your skin, rounding his thumb over your hardened nipple and inserting at the same time another finger to your core.
His eyes are glued at your reactions, eager to see you experiencing these marital delights that you have been deprived of living. And you open your eyes widely, a slow smile graces your lips and it is his name that comes out of surprise.
Maekarâs tongue leaves circular traces over your neck as he continuously explores your soft spots, encouraging you to give in to what heâs providing you.
âMaekar!â Your body makes pressure against his, riding against his fingers.
âIs it good, my dear wife?â, inquires he, already aroused by how sensuous you move and lock eyes with him. It doesnât help his case when you turn at him and cup his beard with your hands, kissing his lips with such a hunger, that it takes almost all of his force to hold back his urge in keeping himself in control.
But his hands go back to your waist, briefly interrupting this intercourse as he conducts you to bed.
He lies by your side and before you protest at him for removing his skillful fingers, Maekar chuckles low and is back where heâd stopped. All this whilst his eager mouth is now going to your lap, moving to your chest.
You are already burying your nails in the sheets of the bed, rolling your eyes and hips as your belly begins to feel so heavy.
âMaekarâ, you stammer out his name, and when you look for his eyes, that heat hits you hard.
His hair is a mess and his smirk is wicked; those eyes pierce your soul in so sinful manner that you are gladly corrupted by such intent gaze.
That his tongue begins to twirl so close to your nipple only makes you whimper more.
âSay it, my wife, is it good?â
âDo not make me beg!â, you protest, already begging.
âIs this what he did not give you?â, his beard tickles against your skin and he knows the effect he has on you, torturing you slowly. It doesnât help further that, knowing it, he removes his robes at last without breaking his intense caressing and your eyes scan his well built muscles.
âHe is not youâ, you gasp, lying back in bed, despair running over you. âMaekar, you are⌠you are mine!â
And he engulfs your nipple, slowly, but famine. Just in time that your legs get so heavy that he feels your juices.
The patient prince, however, does not end you yet. He moves to another nipple, licking, sucking with a devotion of a lover.
He only stops when your sounds die and he smirks at you.
âHowâs that so far?â
You push him with a desperation that makes him smile. Your lips collide in a fervent kiss, hands wrapped around his neck.
âSo divineâ, you whisper against the kiss, biting his bottom lip, your legs already wrapped around his waist. âHeavens, my love, you are so good.
He laughs quietly. Maekar takes a moment to look at the mess that you are.
âAll for you, my beautiful maiden.â
You turn at his side with restless eyes.
âLet me reward you, my love.â An idea comes subtly at you. âMay I be so bold in doing something? I heard some ladies mentioning it.â
Maekar is very pleased to see you confident and wild. But he is still holding himself back when he cups your chin and muses:
âMy lass, we have all the time in the world to do so. I want this night to be yours. Allow me.â
And before you can contest, his lips peck yours before moving to your jawline and neck, gently lying you down as he parts your legs to insert himself in between.
You are embraced by his strong arms, his lips slowly taking time over your aching nipples before going to your belly andâŚ
âOhâ, you giggle upon noticing it. âMaekar, my love.â
It is the sight of a prideful man humbling before you that already leaves you a puddle of mess; the mischief in his eyes that makes you ache for this man; the thirst in his mouth that burns you.
âY/Nâ, and the way he says your name makes you purr; his lips are so close to your womanhood, and when he holds your gaze just as he inserts his tongue in it⌠âGods, you are every inch as sweet as honey.â
And he buries his face right there, bringing you to delights. He lifts your legs, adjusting himself right in between your thighs.
Oh, the indecency of submitting this prideful anvil to your delicately desires, so feminines, so needy, so lusty.
As if he knows it, he drinks all you give him. And this is only the beginning.
*
Your hands run smoothly over his strong shoulders and neck, going down to his back. You shiver as he thrusts inside you, slowly and tender, respecting your pace. Every now and then, he looks at you, as if assured you are comfortable.
You take hold of his face with your soft hands, wrapping then behind his neck, leaning forward to peck his lips.
The kiss is passionate and feverish; little by little the discomfort is substituted by pleasure. You moan softly, arching your back as you welcome his thrusts, his hips adjusting to yours as your body synchronizes with his.
âMy fair maiden of Summerhallâ, he groans in between kisses, mixed breathes and bodies intertwined.
You purr under his touch. You like how gentle, how caring, how good he is with you. In his tenderness, there is desire and true intimacy. And that is what eases that initial pain, turning it to pleasure.
âTo me, you are a good hammerâ, you whisper back, bringing you both to soft chuckles.
âAm I, now?â, he gives you a malicious smirk.
âOh, yes. I can feel it hammering right in me as we speak.â
In saying so, you kiss him passionately, only to part it out of breath for he comes to take you to seven heavens.
And when you chant his name, Maekar doesnât stay too far behind.
***
⢠(V) Garden of Delights.
A few years pass by and in this period of time you settle well in your new role as the mistress of the household where you worked as a servant about some time ago.
You occupy yourself with your new responsibilities as well as with the children whom long looked up at you as the mother theyâve lost.
âWe could go fishing this weekendâ, suggests Egg.
âI believe we could. It is a good ideaâ, you agree. âIt always does well to spend time in nature and not in between these walls.â
Egg beams at you.
âMy lady, I would like to hear more stories of you. Is it true your father was a knight?â
You smile at his curiosity, which reminds you of Maekarâs.
âIt is. He was not an excellent, legendary knight, though.â
âBut he was a knight neverthelessâ, insists Egg.
You chuckle.
âTrue. He was a hedge knight.â You stop with the embroidery and tell this boy all he wants to know about your father.
It is funny to recollect him now as for many years you were distant of him, having received only a few visits before he came to past. Nonetheless, there are some good stories, one of the kind you took special liking to hear and now you share it with this boy whom you are so fond of.
In the meantime you and Egg spend that moment together, Maekar occupies himself with businesses of the household. By then he has Daeron, his heir, next to his side:
âYou are in an age to learn properly, son.â
The lad is no more than six and ten summers, and despite not sharing the same sense of duty to his father, he is not a disobedient son either. Maekar is, regardless, very proud of his eldest and first boy and this is a moment where the two have the opportunity in spending it together.
Naturally, he makes sure that Daeron is dressed like him, so they are matching colors and outfits.
âReally?â, Daeron said, unimpressed.
âWhat harm does it do in ensuring continuity?â, Maekar frowned at him. âYou are my son.â
âAs if people didnât know that already.â
Now here they are.
Once businesses are done, Maekar, aware his son is as bored as he is, opts to take the family for a fishing time.
âGet your thing done and call your brothers and sisters. We are out this weekend at our fishing houseâ, says he.
Daeron raises his eyebrows, but a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. He nods his head out of respect before leaving his father, who, in turn, comes after you.
He actually finds you reading for Egg and his sisters, Daella and Rhae. Todayâs story about Nymeriaâs invasion in Dorne and Maekar is impressed at your knowledge in such a story. In addition, it is a way to keep their motherâs inheritance aliveâspecially when you share what you know about House Dayne.
Today, you dress in white silk with embroidered blue. Your black hair is tied in a braid and you wear no jewelry; the simplicity leaves him in awe, reinforcing the divine aura of your presence.
And you feel the intensity of his gaze, lifting up your eyes and blushing instantly upon encountering his eyes, the glance casted on you. Despite the severity in his posture, you can detect some smile on his lips as you smile so openly at him.
âPapa!â, the girls stand and run to his presence.
Rhae throws herself on the arms of Maekar, who catches her and spins her around, before going on his knees to kiss Daellaâs forehead.
Only then he walks towards Egg and, the way he can, ruffles his youngest sonâs hair. You take the chance to stand and walk toward him.
âHusbandâ, you smile warmly at him, now holding Daellaâs hand, who stands by your side.
âWifeâ, he cedes a small smirk. âAre the children bothering you?â
âNever, my dear. They are very lovely and my greatest companionsâ, as you say, you hold Egg and Daella together. âI was instructing them in ancient histories of their families.â
âYours too, my ladyâ, corrects Egg. âYou are a daughter of a knight who did considerable things.â
Then he looks up at his father:
âMay I squire a hedge knight, papa?â
Maekar furrows his eyebrows:
âAbsolutely not, Aegon Targaryen. What nonsense is this?â
âMy dear, what harm would do him if he squired a knight?â
Maekar looks at you, skeptically.
âHave you taken leave of your senses? This boy is the blood of a dragon, he cannot simply follow a peasant knight.â
You sigh, but you do not argue. Maekar may regret for speaking in a such a tone with you, but because heâs in front of his children, it remains what it is.
*
You, Maekar and his children go to the lake, where the children will be fishing under his supervision. It does not take long before the retinue stops by the destination: a lake surrounded by woods, within the limits of Summerhallâs property.
Maekar helps you dismount and it only occurs you now, as he does the same to his children, that everyone is matching color outfits: today is purple and white, a reference to the house of his first wife.
As Egg leads the way, very excited about fishing, followed by two of his brothersâAemon is still in Citadelâ, the girls are sitting in the grass, having brought their dolls and staying under supervision of two ladies of your trust.
âI should have not spoken to you that wayâ, Maekar murmurs once you and him take a seat under a tree nearby, in a position that you two can watch the boys and the girls.
He looks at you, partly anxious, as you are elaborating an informal bun over your head before you say:
âIâm glad you acknowledge itâ, you finally rest at the chair, taking hold of the hand he offers. You turn your face at him and smirk: âYou are too proud for your own good.â
Maekar buffs.
âI am protective towards my boys and girls, Y/N. There is a difference.â
You give him a smile that melts his heart.
âIs there?â
The prince takes your hand to his lips and there presses a kiss. He likes to admire how you cast those deep blue eyes on him and see the depth of affection behind them, the same that there is in him.
He smiles, thus.
âStubborn woman.â
You laugh quietly.
âPrideful man.â
As you lock hands with him, you take leave of your seat to do so on the grass. You push him gently so he can follow your lead.
Maekar raises his eyebrows, it is a test to his pride and he can see it in your amusing eyes. But he opts to obey you, instead; and then he lies down in the grass, resting his head in your lap.
âIs it not better?â, you ask him, stroking his eyebrows and his hair.
Maekar looks up at you and smirks.
âIndeed. You are my home, Y/N.â
And he closes his eyes, resting for the first time in a long time.
âAs you are mine, my leof.â
You smile in contentment.
***
⢠Epilogue.
It is a surprise that, within five years of your marriage, you come to conceive. It was certainly not for the lack of trying, however, since you find yourself happily engaged in marital activities. But youâve also come to terms that if no child is coming⌠you have those of your husband whom long have taken you as their mother and you, as your offspring.
Nonetheless, you wait for a couple of months more before you announce it.
In this meantime, you and your husband, together with the boys and the girls, go to Ashford Meadow. There, a tournament shall be held on the honor of that lordâs daughterâs name day.
It all seems to go well untilâŚ
âWhere the fuck are Daeron and Aegon?â, you hear your husband say from the moment the retinue crosses the gates of Ashford.
âI think they ran somewhereâ, muses Daella. âI know Daeron doesnât want to write his name on the lists.â
Because of his daughter, Maekar holds back his cursing, but you spot nonetheless in his eyes.
âI can look for them, my husband, if you grant me permission in doing so before we walk inâŚâ
âNo, absolutely notâ, says the prince. âAnd who will look after our girls? I will send my men after these twoâŚâ
You suddenly feel that nausea which you hoped it would not trouble you throughout this journey. You must look pale because Maekar notices it and he comes at you, preoccupied.
âY/N?â, he whispers, taking hold of your hand. âAre you well? What is it?â
âIt is nothingâ, you lie.
But he can tell you are lying. His eyes are full of concern.
âFuck me. I know it is something. You look unwell. Come, you are staying in your quarters now.â
You sigh, prompted to protest, but as he helps you dismount the horse, something about the way he is distressed about you moves your heart.
âIâm sorryâ, you whisper then, linking arms with him just before he and you are greeted by Lord Ashford and his daughter.
Maekar softens towards you.
âThere is nothing to apologize, I am merely concerned, is all. Let me care for you, will you?â
You smile at him, giving a light squeeze in his arm.
âI will. I appreciate it.â
The prince nods in turn and leads the way, a few steps behind his older brother.
*
You struggle not to laugh as Ser Duncan the Tall stands before these noblemen; not because of his station, but due to his pursuit in acknowledgement of his mentorâs status. It is amusing to a certain point and it brings you to recollections of your childhood.
My father used to say that a shield tells the background of a knight as much as a sword does; but it is the name men remember, and if it is not relevant to be registered in dust, then other ways must be pursuit out of the tournaments. He would have liked Ser Duncan.
You cannot help yourself as you remember it and say:
âMy good man, greetings. My father was a hedge knight himself and he crossed paths with Ser Arlanâ, all eyes are on you, and your husband raises epically his eyebrows. âThey were good friends back in Stormâs End. I met him once before I was sent to marry my first husband.â
Baelor is surprised by this statement as much as is Maekar, but Ser Duncan is evidently relieved.
âMy noble lady, that is most kind of you.â
âYou remind me of my fatherâ, you say, and it is true. âHe may not have been as pure as you, but he was a hedge knight himself. He didnât do any success in such tourneys, nor broke many spears, but he offered his sword to those in need. Iâve learnt much from him.â
To see this knightâs face lighten up makes you smile.
âI believe we should have better been acquainted with these stories, my sisterâ, says Baelor, gently, and you can tell that in his eyes he is sincerely regretted for not knowing this before.
âIt is fine, my brotherâ, you smile at him, and he is amazed to see such goodness out of your spirits, which makes Maekar smile to himself; it is one of the reasons why the prince of Summerhall fell for you. âI never shared any of these memories before because what followed after my first marriage required me to focus on growing and doing my duty. I appreciate, however, that Ser Duncan here is to remind me of these old days.â
Ser Duncanâs face could not go any redder.
âWellâ, says Maekar at last. âAfter such a report, we cannot hold you against yourself.â
âYou are welcome to have your name written on the joustsâ, says the Lord Ashford.
And you boldly add:
âYou shall have my favor, my lord.â
âMy lady, I am unworthy of itâ, he protests and Maekar is inclined to agree, but you shoot him a discreet glare that quietens your husband.
âNay, my lord. I disagree. Accept my patronage and may you be well rewarded at the jousts. I shall stand for youâ, you smile. âMay the Warrior be the witness of it.â
Ser Duncan bows his head in thanks and then he takes leave, very pleased with this twists of the events. And so are you.
*
âYou didnât tell me about your fatherâ, says Maekar, later that day, as he tucks you in bed and makes sure you are doing wellâhe tries not to look overly concerned as you had just been submitted to another round of nauseasâand feeling comfortable.
âYou never askedâ, you give him a tease.
Your husband has the decency to blush, but as he occupies your side of bed, you hold his hand and say:
âIn honesty, I did not want to share this with you not because I was shamed of him, but part of me never truly forgave him for marrying me off. I was his only child and I felt⌠I do not know what I felt. It was justâŚâ
Seeing how emotional you are, Maekar holds you against him, cuddling you and tending your needs. He presses a kiss over your head.
âWas he that honest as a knight that he married his only daughter off without caring for her?â, he inquires sternly.
âHe wouldnât have known that my first husband had⌠other preferences.â
Maekar lifts your chin and looks deep in your eyes when saying:
âHe may have had good qualities, my dear leof, most of which I see in you and precisely why I love youâ, he cedes a smirk upon seeing you getting emotional at his words. âHowever, I would never do so with my own daughters. There is duty, I know, but you were so young. You should have better been preserved.â
âWe all have shadows and lights upon usâ, you muse, holding him tight. âI prefer to recollect the moments where he was light.â
âThat is because the best of him lives in you.â
In saying so, he and you share a kiss.
*
Just as you think it is time to share with the family your pregnancy, you find out Egg is squiring Ser Duncan the Tall.
You laugh heartily just as the day Maekar has fetched Daeron and Aerion after the latter got into an unnecessary fight to defend the former and Eggâs whereabouts are informed.
When everyone looks at you with an inquisitive face and Maekar glares, you smirk and explain:
âAlas! Do you not remember that Egg expressed his wishes in serving a hedge knight some moons ago, my lord husband, and you forbade him in nurturing such hopes? It appears the Gods heard and conceded their will to make Eggâs come true.â
Maekar takes a deep breath all the whilst the girls and the boys laugh merrily. Eggâs face is all red and Baelor says:
âWell, who are we when the Gods play their dices and dictate their ways?â
Maekar gives a grumpy look at his eldest brother:
âEven you, Baelor?â
The presumptive heir to their fatherâs throne shrugs his shoulders, but the prince of Summerhall can detect amusement behind his mismatched eyes.
âPapaâ, says Egg, âwill you concede me permission, thus?â
Maekar sighs heavily.
âMy boy, is this what you want?â
âIt is, it is!â
âWell, I give you my permission under one condition: that Ser Duncan completes his training in Summerhall.â
It appears that day ends well to all of those involved.
*
âI have something to shareâ, you finally speak.
The two of you are in the quarters specially conceded to the royal guests of Lord Ashford. Maekar is found reading a book, waiting for you to return from your bath. He is occupying a seat, comfortably so, as he is entertained by this novel that has been recommended by Aemon in his last letter, when you show up.
Instantly, Maekar looks up at you, eyebrows raised. Your hair is down, you walk barefoot, dressed in a line nightgown that conceals poorly your curves.
The prince notices your breasts are fuller and your bellyâŚ
He looks up at you, understanding.
âY/Nâ, he pulls you to sit on his lap, his hand on your belly. âIs it why youâve been sick?â
âI was not entirely sureâ, you giggle shyly. âBut yes, I am carrying your child, Maekar. Are you ready to be the father of a seventh baby?â
Maekarâs face lightens up and he cups your face, kissing your lips passionately.
âOf course I am. These are fantastic news! The more, the merrierâ, he smiles brightly at you.
You beam in turn, and the rest of the evening is spent in such an intimate contentment.











