green lies, black hearts

XXI

a/n - last one for the night! hope y'all enjoy these three chapters!

- mint

~+~

Malyn

Malyn rocked back and forth on his heels, tapping impatiently against the wooden tabletop. "Almost done, missus?"

"Now," Barra huffed, wiping her hands down over her apron, "y'know it ain't, Mal."

"It could be!" he tried. He pouted and turned his eyes up to the ceiling, to the burning, iron-wrought chandelier. "It's always done when I come visit in'."

"Not today, lad."

"Why?"

Barra stopped cutting vegetables—a sight that made Malyn's mouth water for her had finally had his first carrot ever just last week and they were now his favorite—and she turned to look down at Malyn, one hand propped on her hip. "Ya not hear?"

"Hear what?" There wasn't much talking over in the stables. Of course, he heard what other stable boys spoke about, and what sers and lords would say in passing, but he was always busy. He had to get strong. He had to do well to prove himself!

Barra glanced over at the milling servants in the warm kitchens, and she frowned. "Princess' daughter got sick or somethin'."

"Poisoned, Barra!" a younger girl called over as she rolled out a sheet of dough. "Princess Rhaenyra said it herself! Gertrude said she heard her at the wedding feast."

"Gertrude hears everythin' bout everyone and their mother," Barra snorted. But Malyn was frowning. The Princess' daughter? Wasn't that his future lady? His ser's lady?

(Though he knew he wasn't supposed to say he knew either of them.)

"Poisoned?" Malyn tried to clarify. "Why...why would anyone do that?"

Barra shrugged and returned to her vegetables. "Don't know," she said, patting Malyn on the head. "And if it's even true, it ain't for us to know, mkay? Now if you're gonna pester me while workin', then ya best make—" Barra's eyes widened as she looked over Malyn's head, and at her silence, the boy turned around to see what made her pause.

A smile lifted onto his lips.

"M-My prince," Barra sputtered, quickly dipping into a clumsy bow. She swatted the back of Malyn's head and he mimicked her bow, but he was grinning all the while as Prince Aemond entered the kitchens. "What" —Barra cleared her throat— "what can we, ah, can we do ya for?"

Malyn beamed up at the prince, who only glanced at him for a moment.

Prince Aemond had his hands folded behind his back, and Malyn's smile slowly fell. The prince's purple eye was dark, and there was a matching color tinting the skin beneath it. Though he seemed put-together—the very image of a prince that Malyn grew up hearing stories of in the orphanage—he realized the prince's leather doublet was askew. That one silver hook near his throat was undone. That the prince's eyepatch was flimsily tied and his hair was pulled away, but strands were framing his face.

Malyn had never seen the prince looking like that.

"The boy," Prince Aemond said stiffly.

"Ah...right, right." Barra shoved Malyn forward as she hissed, "Go. If I find out ya got in trouble cause ya can't shovel shit proper, I ain't makin' y'anymore bread. Go, lad."

Malyn tried to protest Barra's assumption—he most certainly knew how to shovel!—but she would have none of it and he was urged towards Prince Aemond. The prince grabbed Malyn's shoulder and immediately steered him out of the kitchens. Malyn shrunk under the scrutinizing gaze of onlooking servants, and he wished to ask the prince what he wanted, but he thought it would be best not to. The prince was never mean to him, but certainly stern—it reminded him of the orphanage's mistress when he did something he shouldn't.