WARS TO COME, game of thrones

𝐕. pretend

𝟐𝟕𝟕 𝐀𝐂

It was late in the year and Anrir was alone in the eyrie. Robert was in Storm's End and Eddard was on his annual visit to Winterfell. Anrir had no house to return home to, and so he was alone in the now tragically quiet halls of the eyrie. .

He sat across from his father, writing down the letters he dictated to him. His thoughts kept drifting, however, until his father finally put down the work. "You have to learn to concentrate," he said. "For when? When I become Lord of the eyrie?",Anrir asked and sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Is that what you want?" "Do I have any chance of becoming it?",Anrir shot back and his father just sighed, shaking his head at him.

"If that's your attitude, I don't see the point of what we're doing here." "That you treat me as your typist?" "That I'm letting you take part in my duties. You're not my heir, no. This is Elbert and you know it. But you're not just an appendage here. Ever since I adopted you as my son, I've been teaching you everything I know. You will always hold high office in the eyrie, in the Vale."

Anrir took a deep breath, and at the same time was ashamed to notice how his breath trembled. Tears burned in his eyes. He could never stay strong, his true feelings always asserted themselves immediately. He was fourteen, damn it. Soon he would be an adult. He couldn't always get emotional like a little girl! So he firmly forced himself to say," I want to be better than that though.... I'm so grateful that I get to live and learn here like this , I know it's more than I'm entitled to and would get elsewhere.... But I will never be able to reach my full potential just because I am an orphan. I just want to be like my ancestors.... I'm a total disgrace after all." Anrir's cheeks were now wet with tears after all, and angrily he wiped his face with the back of his hand.

"But you can't help it, Anrir. Why do you let yourself be so influenced by something you yourself have nothing to do with?",his father asked calmly. "You don't understand anyway," whispered Anrir, realizing himself that he now sounded snotty. "Maybe I don't feel the same way you do, but I know how it feels to live in fear, to disappoint your own house and your ancestors." He laughed in disbelief, "You?!" "Yes, of course. I have been married twice now and have never been able to produce an heir. I do have one, but he is not my son. And even though I know it's not a rational feeling, sometimes I feel shame."

Doubting, Anrir looked at him, then took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I was disrespectful," he murmured softly. "Yes. But your feelings are still valid. But,",his father rose and sorted away his work materials, "You are also a boy at an age when emotions bubble over almost like those of young girls." Anrir rolled his eyes but smiled slightly. "Go now, tomorrow your friends will arrive again. Enjoy the peace while it lasts." "Thank you, father,",Anrir smiled at him some more, then left in a hurry.

He entered his room, closing the door behind him. His room was chaotic, his father had forbidden the maids to clean up at his point and so he was lost in chaos until he decided to clean up on his own. He grumbled unwillingly and pushed the clothes on his bed aside so that there was room for him. In recent years he had grown to the point where his wide bed was no longer oversized compared to him. He had caught up with Eddard at fourteen, was still smaller than Robert, but he was huge anyway. He had also lost most of the baby fat on his face, his jaw had become more angular and his features sharper. He liked the way he looked, at least more and more with each passing day. He didn't magically attract everyone's gaze like Robert did, but sometimes people turned to look at him and and the maids prophesied that he would be a good-looking man someday.

At some point he must have fallen asleep, because when he woke up warm daylight shone into his room. No one had woken him and Anrir quickly jumped out of bed and undressed on his way to his washrooms. As quickly as somehow possible, he washed and combed briefly through his wet curls before running outside in half-clean clothes. It was almost noon and Anrir immediately headed for the courtyard. There he found the man assigned to teach them how to wield the sword and his two best friends. Robert stood leaning on his sword, his black curls hanging down into his angular face, he was the only one of them who already had beard growth. Next to him stood Eddard, so that his back was turned to Anrir and he could only see his shoulder-length, reddish-blond hair.