The Fire & Blood of Dragonriders [Aegon II Targaryen]

21. Snow on the Beach

There was a knock at the door, but I ignored it. Polly went to place Lucerys down in the crib, but I put a hand on her shoulder and shook my head, urging her to ignore it.

"May I speak with you, Princess?" Cregan asked from the other side.

"No."

He ignored me and opened the door anyways, walking in and nodding his head towards Polly, kindly hinting for her to leave.

"Em...I'll bring 'em to the milk maid, Princess," she smiled at me. "M'lord," she bowed, taking Lucerys.

I rolled my eyes and threw the clothing I'd folded onto the bed.

"A nice evenin', Princess?" He shut the door.

"No."

Sensing my agitation, he walked to my side. "I came to apologize for my comment in the godswood. It was not my intent to infer anythin'."

"That Lucerys is a bastard like me?" I turned to face him. "Just because you Northerners are honourable doesn't mean you can judge around as you so please," I jabbed his chest, but it hardly made a dent.

"I didn't mean to suggest he was a bastard," Cregan moved closer, forcing me to bend my neck back.

"What was it you were trying to say?" I crossed my arms.

"There," Polly finished placing a warm cloth across my chest. "That should do for now. If you any more pain, Princess, it should fade within' a week."

"Thank you," I smiled, redoing the buttons. "How is he?"

Polly walked to the bed where they'd rested Lucerys atop a mount of fur. "Asleep, Princess. Soundly."

"Bring him to me, will you?"

For a babe, Lucerys was oddly tranquil. Even now as Polly slid her hands under the fur to carry him over, he was quiet and still. Baelon, however, was quite fussy as a new born—he still is. He had very dramatic reactions to everything, whereas Lucerys only cried in hunger.

"What a curious thing," I observed.

"What is, Princess?"

"He's not cried at the disturbance. Baelon was...well, to describe it, may the Mother have mercy on whichever poor soul disrupted his slumber."

Polly laughed, placing him in my arms.

"But Lucerys....maybe they have different temperaments. He surely hasn't received mine."

The woman grinned, placing a blanket atop him. "It's the fur, Princess."

"The fur?"

"Northern' fur'll do anyone good in this cold."

A knock came at the door before Cregan strode in. "Princess," he bowed.

"Lord Stark?" I squinted my eyes to better see him in the candle light. "To what do I owe the honour at this hour?"

"The maids informed me you'd hardly anythin' to eat since the birth."

I smiled after noticing the plate in his hand. "So you come bearing food?"

He looked down. "Oh," he shook his head. "No...I heed myself to a second servin' after supper."

I snorted and quickly covered my mouth. He grinned in response. "That is kind of you, Lord Stark...but labour tends to decimate my appetite."

"Incase then," he placed the food beside me and cued for Polly to leave us. "I've also come to see how you've held up," he gripped a piece of parchment, shutting the door.