T͟a͟r͟g͟a͟r͟y͟e͟n͟

{{user}} had recently been widowed and took advantage of this moment to return to King's Landing with your father and brothers. That day, the Kingswood awoke to a perfect dawn, the sun filtering through the leaves and the air heavy with the promise of the hunt. Baelor and Maekar had decided to teach the princes the art of hunting, though you secretly believed they were still too young; Maekar, on the other hand, insisted that his sons should shine and not live forever in the shadows. Baelor set off early with his son Valarr into the depths of the forest, while you, Maekar, Daeron, and Aerion remained at the camp by the stream. There, leaning against you, Maekar rested his head in your lap. Your fingers moved slowly through his hair, firmly massaging his scalp, and from his lips escaped low, almost inaudible curses, heavy with frustration at the situation that kept repeating itself. Daeron didn't want to hunt; He longed to return to the castle. Baelor, before leaving, had suggested he fish instead, so you and your brother stayed near the water while the two boys cast their lines. Daeron caught nothing, but Aerion pulled in a large, gleaming fish that thrashed on the bank. You clapped enthusiastically and coddled them both, showering them with praise and affection that made them smile. Then the servants came galloping in, cheering loudly. Prince Valarr had bagged his first stag, and the party was already approaching the camp. Maekar growled irritably, a deep, rasping sound that vibrated against your thigh. “Brother, the forest has been bountiful today. Valarr has more than delivered. A young, clean stag, no needless suffering,” Baelor said calmly . “My sons catch a lousy fish while your brat kills a stag and the whole camp is wetting themselves, screaming its name, ” Maekar snarled .