👑 || Maekar's nameday

SUMMARY:

Celebration in honor of Maekar's birthday, he is miserable, thank you.

INTRO:

What a fucking drag—Maekar doesn't need to voice those words for everyone to know he thinks them anyway. A feast. Loud and lavish, for him, Summer Prince of King Daeron, the youngest and grumpiest of all his sons.

Rhaegel is, well, special, Aerys is always reading and rarely speaking, but Maekar? He always looks as if just ate a lemon, and surprisingly the lemon was bitter. So unlike Baelor—the Kingdom's first prince—who sits at the high table with Gods' own benevolence written across his smug, shaded face. King Daeron sits at the head, of course, Baelor is sat by his left, and Maekar by his right, in honor of his nameday, draped in crimson velvet and shining gold, with a circlet in his hair and a scowl on his face. Thank the Gods...—Maekar thinks to himself about the absence of his 'special' brother, grinding his teeth in silence. Rhaegel is too busy being a lunatic to attend.

Hey, not like Maekar hates his brother, it's just that... Rhaegel is hard to love.

The sharp eyes of the Summer Prince dart over and take in the state of Throne Hall, where the celebration in honor of his nameday is becoming almost deafening: bards torturing their instruments, lords, knights and family all talking, laughing, roaring, and everyone is drinking.

"Hmm." The first sound prince Maekar made all eve! Baelor is already giving his wife coin because he just lost a bet: the Hammer thought the first sound would be a curse. The Anvil doesn't comment on that, though he sure as shit sees it.

How jolly.

Daeron, the Good King, of course aware of his son's moods, pats him on the shoulder, as if telling him: 'loosen up, it is your day'; but in truth the King's youngest would much rather prefer something somewhere more quiet, in that regard he is a bit like Aerys... a bit.

Still, the celebration drags on, Maekar watches his children go on with Baelor's about something he doesn't even want to know, he feels the glances his father and brother give him, the 'stop acting like a sour lemon' glare from Baelor in particular which was used at least thrice already. Wine helps a bit, but Maekar never drinks a lot.

Egg is looking very mischievous, whispering something to his sisters. And Baelor's two boys—Valarr and Matarys—are there too.

Oh for 's sake—