#worthproven

[sorrowknown]

@worthproven sent ; appears at her bedside in the dead of night, gently nudging her awake. “ muña. ” ( from little jace )

long gone were the days where it would take great efforts to rouse the princess from her sleep, stubbornly clinging to slumber even after drapes had been opened and sunlight allowed to flood into the room, oft only the temptation of breakfast enough to draw her from the comforts of her bed. it seemed that as soon as jace had been born, even the smallest disturbance would wake her, waiting for the sound of his cries when he had still been a babe in a crib, and despite several telling her that he would, eventually, sleep for longer hours until he was making it through a full night, he still slept irregularly even now. they had told her too, that if she continually allowed him to disturb her, she would only encourage the habit, that she should allow the wet nurse or the maids to care for him, but she had never listened, and nor did she want him to think he could not rely on her, for matters great or small, that she would not come or would not allow him to wake her when needed.

her head turns towards him, slow blinks through the haze of sleep, adjusting to the darkness of the room as she pushes herself to a sitting position. the first few times he had been old enough to find his way into her rooms at night, she had woken to him with a start, fear that something must be wrong to be disturbed so, yet she had come to know better, that there was no urgency in his gentle nudging of her, or in his voice. hands reach for him, hoisting him up into the bed, every time she lifts him he seems to have grown, but she will continue to pick him up until she is no longer able or when he no longer wants her to, bringing him against her chest to press a tender kiss to the top of his head. "you will get cold like that, ñuha zaldrītsos." the blankets settle over the two of them, another kiss planted upon his forehead. "did you come to tell me something?"

[smaragduseques]

@worthproven sent ; little jace is waiting up, waiting for his kepa to return home with a lecture at the ready for leaving without saying goodbye ( joff cried ). ( happy father's day <3 )

even despite the long days that summer afforded them, the sun had long since sunk below the horizon when the small retinue arrived in the courtyard, the quiet of night interrupted by hooves upon stones followed by the flurry of activity as stablehands came to take care of the horses, and squires took the weapons that needed cleaning and sharpening from their knights, yet nigh as soon as the disturbance had arrived, it died away once more, each man vanishing into the castle and likely seeking out their beds, yet gwayne knew he would not be allowed to sleep so readily as them, and instead would have some questions to answer to. rightfully so too, for he never would have left without some warning under normal circumstances, and although it was not meant with any ill intent, he had still felt some guilt riding away before they had awoken, leaving their mother to explain his absence, even if it had been no more than a day.

it was to jace's chambers he went first then, a servant sent to inform rhaenyra, if she were still awake, that he'd returned safely and would join her shortly, for if he had gone to her first, he might have found it difficult to pull himself away again, the gentlest knock upon wooden door before allowing himself in. it was hard to not find some amusement in the sight of the young boy, a stern an expression as a child could muster, although he could see a tiredness below it too, from staying up too late just to chide his own father. "you will be too tired for your training tomorrow if you don't sleep, zaldrītsos." he had only a few words in high valyrian that he could muster, and they would always sound awkward on his tongue, but he had asked rhaenyra to teach him at least a few words, not so long after jace had started his own lessons, so that he might at least share something of it with them. yet despite his words, the boy was swept up into his arms as soon as he reached him, almost too big for such gestures but he would not be deterred until jace was either too tall for him to lift, or he began to protest about it.

"i am sorry i left without a goodbye, and i would not have done it if it could have been avoided." the words murmured against a mop of dark hair, a kiss planted to the top of his head. "do you think you can forgive me for it?"

[crgnstrk]

@worthproven sent ; you can finish this in the morning. + let me get you to bed.

it was not unusual for the hours to slip by unnoticed once evening fell, candles allowed to burn down to stumps and the fire dying to little more than glowing embers, that would leave the warden of the north with little warmth were he not always laden with enough furs to stave off any chills. when he had inherited his title, there were no guiding hands to aid him, too young when his father passed to have been taught the intricacies of lordship, and unable to trust in the uncle who might have offered advice, willingly putting the man out of his mind whenever his thoughts strayed in such directions. so it was his evenings that were spent on those decisions, when he did not know what was right, more common in the first year he spent as lord of winterfell, when all was unfamiliar and the ground felt unstable beneath his feet, fearing that too many missteps and his northerners would choose to reinstate his uncle instead of him. such worries did not plague him so heavily anymore, familiarity with the decisions that needed to be made each year easing the worry, each choice needing less time deliberating and giving the young lord his sleep back.

old habits found him again in king's landing, though the decisions that needed to be made were not for him to call but for jacaerys, newly and rightfully crowned following the usurper's death, but there were too many voices around the council table that cregan did not agree with, could not allow to go unchallenged. and so it was almost each evening, he could be found alone, seeking solutions, suggestions that he might offer up to jace, not to exert undue influence, as some might suspect should they know just how private an audience he had with their new king, but with the knowledge of how hard it could be to stand against the sudden weight of responsibilities before your time, even if he did not know it on such a scale as this.

he hardly needed have looked to know who the door had opened to, for even if he did not recognise jace's gait, no one else would come to seek him out at such an hour nor know where he might be found, yet his head tilted against the wooden back of his chair, eyes lifting to meet his lover's own and fingers stretching out to catch at his hand as he did. "if only the finish was so close in hand." his hand brought up towards his lips, pressing a kiss to knuckles, a wordless apology for dragging jace from his bed in order to fetch cregan back to it. "by morrow, there will be something new to argue over."

[polyolbos]

@worthproven sent ; Who did this to you? I need you to tell me who did this. ( also for his favourite grand nephew egg <3 )

countless times had he been made to sit and wait while the maesters assessed the worst of the scrapes and bumps he gave to himself, told that he should take more care, to stop his clambering up trees and over walls, or else the next time he might face a worse injury if he should misplace a foot and take a fall, or the next scratch may come from a poisonous plant, and many more warnings amongst them that he had never heeded, and never had pretended to heed, always plainly itching to be released from their oversight to return to whatever it was that had inflicted his wound. he had needed no reminders to sit still this time, having fixed his gaze upon a spot on the stone wall opposite, and not allowed it to drift whilst they inspected the newest of his injuries. few words had been spoken at all, the usually talkative prince silent, save for the occasional reaction to some fresh pain as treatments were administered, and the maesters offering no warnings against reckless behaviour, for they plainly did not believe the story he had conjured up upon first being led back into the red keep by the guard that had found him. if he had thought they would send word to the king, perhaps he might have tried harder with his tale, but he had little inkling of the servant who had carried word through the halls of the keep until the door opened to permit his great-uncle inside, and if the boy weren't already pale from the sensation of a needle and thread pulling the skin taught once more, where it had been split at the back of his head, it would surely have drained of colour, not for fear of his uncle, for that is who he would forever be to egg before he was a king, but for the conversation and aftermath that was sure to come.

blessedly, if there was little else to be grateful for, jacaerys waited to ask his questions, the wound sewn shut, for even if it was not terribly deep, it was significant enough that the maesters worried about infection if it was allowed to heal alone, and he was left with instructions that an ointment would need to be applied to help it along, as well as a poultice for his arm, that though not seriously injured, was bruised and thought to be sprained, although not fractured as they had first assumed, and then the room emptied of all but the two targaryens, egg's deep violet hues still reluctant to move from their spot on the wall. of course his uncle would have no qualms in being the first to speak, whether or not he met his gaze, and though the question was not unkind, far from it in truth, for he knew it was asked from concern and not levelled as an accusation, he still wished to shy away from it.

it might have been easier to find the lie had it been his father questioning him, not because he cared less for his father, but only because he knew that the truth would deal his father a greater wound still, his father who still chose to believe in aerion, for he either did not see all that the prince did, and certainly egg told him very little of all the harm he caused, or he chose not to hear it. but a lie not coming easily did not mean the truth was a viable option either, for that would die on his tongue just as swiftly, for no good could come of the admission. perhaps short term, there would be some retribution delivered, but he did not expect it to last and then what would follow but aerion's ire after it had been allowed to fester. "no one. i must have tripped on something, i think."