@dromon : " i never meant to lie. "
his chin tilts, a horizontal, incrementary motion as his lips press, thick silver white brows tugging inward as he kneels, right knee rest solidly against the stones - the other propped up, upon which he settles his left arm. his eyes never leave his youngest son, while not quite angry, there is a sterness to the steadiness of his stare ( his panic had cut any sort of frustration the prince had had as to the circumstances off at the knees. even though he stands infront of him now, alive and well, he could not forget the drop in the pit of his stomach when he realized, upon finding daeron, that he was gone - as if someone had fitted his sternum too tight inside the column of his chest )
yet he understood, in a way. why. how restless he must have become waiting, knowing that his brother had intended to keep him from serving as a squire as the boy had long wished, until the tourney had ended. he would have missed his chance, had he not took it, and yet, now... for his involvement - an innocent man would die ( yet, that did not say as to what would have been done to the puppeteers if he had not. an act of cowardice of which his second son stood the catalyst his fourth, the savior ) his son was watching him now with wide, violet blue eyes that looked at his sire as if he held the capacity to shatter his heart in the palm of his hand; fearful, and suspiciously bright.
" it does not matter what you meant, " the words are straightforward, and flat, and yet, not entirely unkind, " you erred, yes, but now you need to fix it. it does not serve to dwell too heavily on it. your life will pass by, and wounds will fester in the stretch of years, and you will need to atone for worse, " there was yet time still for his little boy to be forgiven, but less as the hours ticked and dawn neared, closer, and closer. maekar did not intend to allow either of his sons to die on the morrow; and whether or not ser duncan would be declared innocent was a ruling he would accept - either way the wind turned. but they would not die. aerion would yield, he would if it came to it, if he was given the chance.
if he was the hedge knight, he would give neither of his sons the chance for what they had done. but that was why he needed fight. why his involvement was a thing that would never, in truth, be in doubt. because they needed him. right or wrong, they needed him, " i was a day's ride, from coming, you know, " he says, " i would have found you, and you would not have missed past the second day. i would have entered myself, and you could have served me, for the time. you did not need to run off, " the corners of his lips had begun to curl downward into the start of a frustrated grimace, glancing up at the top of the boy's head, " or shaved off all your hair. what, might i ask, led to that ? "
he glanced down again, his eyes meeting his son's, and silence fell and stretched. his jaw tensed, words working behind his teeth that rose and sputtered and died upon his tongue, and yet. finally, a hand reaches to rest upon the boy's arm. a near awkward attempt at gentleness, " the business with your brother and the puppeteers had nothing to do with you, " the man murmured, " it would have been regardless, whether or not you had, should he have happened upon them. it could have likely been worse, had you not involved yourself. you didn't do this, aegon, " and then, a note of softness. a crack in the thick iron shell, a glimpse beneath the hard, unyielding exterior. your brothers did. and now he needed fix it. even if he was damned to the lowest circle of the seven hells for it.
the man's frown deepened, " nor did your hedge knight, " he would admit as much here, to his son, " i won't kill him, but that is all i can promise. the trial needs happen, the fight will be had, and men might die within it. daeron and aerion have disgraced themselves, by word and by deed. unless they choose to rescind their claims before the sun rises, it is the only way to wash out the stain of their dishonor. it will help your ser duncan as well, " should he live, he thinks. though he had little to fear from daeron, and himself, and should he tell the kingsguard not to kill him, the only threat to him would be aerion, and the two of them would duel as they always should have done. there was no need for any of this. and yet he had called for it knowing they could not deny it.
" if he should not prove his innocence publically, the stain of the accusation will always be with him. no proper lord would take him into service, for fear of offending the crown. however much some might say your brother deserved to be beaten, they will not risk the accusation of aiding traitors. he will become a robber knight, or a beggar, " of which neither would have given him much of a hope of a decent life. this was the riskier path, it was true, but it would be better then the alternative. the solution found would be cemented, and not challenged due to the boy's station - should the hedge knight win his innocence, to attempt to gain favor with both father and son
