Mother don't eat me / mother i'm trying so hard to be better
⠀ ⸺ ⠀House of the Dragon / Fire and blood
⠀ ⸺ ⠀male!oc x multiple
⠀ ⸺ ⠀cover made by @roguesmoon <3
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Chapter eleven 𓃦 To want it
The chambers of Grand Maester Orwylle were always barely lit – a few candles on the desk to prevent the total darkness to prevail over the room that was located nearly under the Red Keep. Still, Baelor was grateful for it in times like these – his doublet was long discarded somewhere on the tens of armchairs Orwylle had in the room, crouched over for the man to inspect the ever-growing scars across the skin of his back. As much as Orwylle tried to be gentle while applying the crème to the skin, Baelor mentally noted his touch was never as gentle as Genna's was.
"The Gods have finally cursed me, did they not?" the prince spoke, not truly expecting an answer before scrunching his nose and closing his eyes tightly shut when the crème pounded inside the open cut.
"It is not the Gods, my prince, but your mind," the Grand Maester replied, focused on treating the severe cuts before closing the lid and moving away, towards his desk, "I have sent ravens to some Maesters through the Kingdoms. They wrote back with treatments they started to explore."
Baelor stood up to grab the doublet from the armchair, sliding it over his head, "and?"
Orwylle placed the jar on the edge of the table in favour of taking one of the papers in his hands. He scanned over the words, "some started to let the people free bleed. They say it is good for human mind to let the blood exit the troubled flesh."
"I think this might be the people wanting me dead," Baelor joked, fingers fidgeting to push the buttons through the right holes on his shirt.
"Doubtfully so, my prince, as I never mentioned who I am treating," Orwylle replied before grabbing another piece of paper, "they also say they use a diet for their patients. And, for some women after they gave birth and fell in some manic state, they also used some cold-water experiments."
"Well, save that for Genna, in case things go wrong," Baelor joked again which earned a scolding from the Maester, "what? I was merely joking; she will be fine."
