Hey moon hope you’re having a great day!
I was wondering will the new cleaved chapter be out in the next few days?
Oof, can't tell you exactly. I took some time for myself on my day off, but I'm working this weekend, so writing will be going slow af.
Here's a brief preview of what I've done thus far (scuse the shitty grammar, its unedited)
“He likes you,” she'd told him one evening. Maelor had been fussing all day, whining every time she even tried to put him down and have a moment to herself. Aerea had felt so overwhelmed, she'd daydreamed about peeling her skin off and leaping out of the tallest tower in the keep. Somehow, she'd refrained; held him close, and blown air into his mouth to get him to settle.
It worked. He'd get quiet whenever she offered affection, slobbered all over her face when she'd lean in to kiss his cheeks. It reminded her of Aerion; of the way he used to bite at her flesh when he was angry, how sulky he'd get when she denied him attention.
“I'd say he has excellent taste. Far better than his Father,” Val snickered, swaying like a ship sailing a calm sea. “I, uh… I’m pleased you kept the name.”
Aerea nodded. “I told you. It fit.”
The court agreed with it too. Daeron found it amusing, and said Father's head would pop when he realized his first grandson was named after both him and his brother. Her sisters cooed about how pretty it was, while Aelora rushed to bestow a pet name upon him; Mae.
“Even if it is cursed,” she added wistfully.
Valarr’s face scrunched. “Sorry about that. I was never one for history.”
She sighed. She'd initially assumed the name was unique, a blend never used before. However, after flipping through Aemon's list, she discovered a Maelor had existed in their line once; the child of the ill-fated Aegon II, the boy had died grotesquely, when a mob had torn him apart during the a riot.
“Aerion would have known that.”
He kept a detailed memory of every facet of their family history. Had he been here, he would have forbidden her from naming him after a child who got gored by riled peasants; even if said name honored both her Uncle and Father.
“It’s fine,” she smiled. “Mine own name is cursed. I’ve not died of firewyrms just yet, despite Uncle Rhaegel's concern.”
Valarr chortled, just as she seized her skirt to ring.
“It’s certainly better than Maegor.”
Her entire body went stiff. Aerea almost regretted telling him about Aerion's unfortunate name choice. But Father had written again, to tell her Aerion was quite upset in their correspondence that she'd not gone with the name he'd chosen.
Maekar had cautioned her to disregard any letters he sent on the subject.
“I told him he wasn’t naming my grandson after a usurping kinslayer and that was final," his last missive had outlined, in harsh, wobbly letters.
Aerea thought she would be flattered by the intervention; she couldn’t bring herself to. Because he wasn’t trying to defend her rights, but shield the reputation of a new heir that would inherit his mantle when he grew.
t was why she couldn’t deny Val's visits. It helped that she had someone who recognized her efforts, helped her without expecting anything in return.
It suited him; being a Father. He seemed to know exactly how to hold Maelor to make him comfortable, precisely what tone of voice to use to get him to cease mewling. The little thing looked at him with awe in his eyes, and more than once, she'd seen him trying to reach out and paw at his face.
It was endearing. It made her feel guilty beyond measure.
Cleaved in Two, Chapter 41: The Pain of Intent
