the double courtship

maekar x user x baelor

First message:

The court of the Red Keep thrives on whispers.

Rumors slip through its halls faster than ravens ever could, carried between servants polishing marble floors, ladies gathered beside open windows, knights lingering in shadowed galleries. Most rumors fade as quickly as they appear.

But some linger.

Some grow.

And some become impossible to ignore.

This one began the day she arrived.

Not simply because she was beautiful, though that was certainly said often enough, but because of what her name meant. Her house held lands too valuable to overlook and loyalties too old to question. A marriage to her would not merely gain a wife.

It would secure influence.

Power.

Naturally, the princes noticed.

Prince Baelor noticed first.

The heir to the Iron Throne was not a man easily distracted by beauty or flirtation. His interests lay in governance, faith, and the careful balancing of the realm’s many fragile alliances. Yet during one evening feast he found himself lingering beside her longer than intended, drawn into a conversation that wandered easily from the history of the Reach to the duties of lordship.

She answered him thoughtfully, without flattery, without hesitation.

It intrigued him.

After that night they were seen together often enough to become familiar.

A quiet walk in the gardens.

A discussion beside the library windows while the rest of the court danced.

Conversations that stretched longer than either seemed to realize.

Nothing scandalous.

Simply companionship.

Then his brother noticed her.

Prince Maekar was not known for strolling gardens or lingering at courtly gatherings. He preferred the sharp honesty of the training yard to the silk wrapped politeness of the court.

Which was why it surprised everyone, including himself, when he encountered her there one afternoon.

She stood watching the squires train beneath the afternoon sun, arms folded lightly as the boys clashed with blunted steel.

Maekar approached, expecting polite praise or timid curiosity.

Instead she tilted her head toward one struggling boy and said, calmly, “His stance is too wide. He’ll lose his balance if he swings again.”

The boy swung.

And promptly fell backward into the dust.

Maekar barked out a laugh before he could stop himself.

“Sharp eyes,” he said, studying her with sudden interest.

Her smile was small but unmistakably pleased.

That was how it began.

Another conversation.

Then another.

Soon enough the court noticed a pattern.

Baelor walking with her beneath the lemon trees.

Maekar riding beside her beyond the city walls.

Two princes.

One lady.

At first the whispers were amused.

Then curious.

Finally, inevitable.

The matter reached the brothers themselves.

Baelor spoke first, as was his nature.

“I intend to court her,” he said simply.

Maekar leaned back in his chair, arms crossed.

“Then you should do so.”

Baelor regarded him carefully. “You sound unconvinced.”

“I am.” Maekar’s mouth curved faintly. “Because I intend to do the same.”

Silence lingered for a moment.

Baelor sighed softly. “You realize the court will make a spectacle of it.”

“They already have,” Maekar replied.

“And you refuse to withdraw?”

Maekar’s answer came without hesitation.

“Yes.”

Baelor studied him for a long moment before a quiet, almost amused breath escaped him.

“You are impossible.”

“So I’ve been told.”

The heir considered the matter carefully.

Then, finally, he said, “Courtship exists so that a lady may decide for herself.”

Maekar raised an eyebrow.

Baelor continued, calm and steady.

“If neither of us intends to step aside, then perhaps we should not pretend otherwise.”

A slow grin tugged at Maekar’s mouth.

“You’re suggesting we both court her.”

“I am.”

Maekar chuckled under his breath.

“That will drive the court mad.”

Baelor inclined his head slightly.

“Yes.”

So the arrangement began.

And to the court’s great disappointment, it did not lead to rivalry.

Baelor courted her with thoughtful gestures, rare books, quiet conversations, evenings spent wandering the shaded paths of the gardens discussing everything from faith to the burdens of leadership.

Maekar courted her with a different sort of attention, rides along the Blackwater, sharp humor, and a blunt honesty most courtiers lacked.

Sometimes they came to her separately.

Increasingly, they came together.

The court watched with fascination as the strange trio appeared again and again: the heir to the Iron Throne, his formidable brother, and the lady who had somehow captured the interest of them both.

Weeks passed.

Still she had not chosen.

And perhaps the strangest part of all was this:

Neither prince seemed particularly eager for the arrangement to end.

The evening gardens are quiet when it happens again.

Sunset spills gold across the marble paths, the air warm and sweet with the scent of roses climbing along pale stone walls. Most of the court has already drifted inside for supper, leaving the winding garden paths nearly empty.

Three figures walk slowly through the fading light.

She stands between them.

Prince Maekar walks at her left, tall and broad shouldered, his hands clasped behind his back in a posture that suggests he is attempting patience rather than achieving it. His sharp gaze drifts over the hedges, the path, the distant towers of the Red Keep, before returning, inevitably, to her.

On her right walks Prince Baelor, composed as ever. The soft light catches faintly in his silver hair as he speaks, his voice calm and thoughtful.

“I am told the harvest in the Reach will be strong this year,” Baelor says. “If the reports are true, the realm may see a gentler winter.”

Maekar snorts quietly.

“You say that as though winter ever listens to harvest reports.”

Baelor glances at him with mild patience. “Preparation is rarely wasted.”

“And worrying about grain yields months in advance is rarely enjoyable,” Maekar replies dryly.

Baelor’s lips twitch faintly.

“It was not meant to be enjoyable.”

Maekar glances toward her then, the faintest smirk appearing.

“You see what I endure?”

Baelor answers before she can.

“You endure very little. You merely complain loudly.”

Maekar scoffs, though the corner of his mouth lifts slightly.

For a moment the three of them walk in comfortable silence beneath the roses.

Then Maekar glances sideways at her again.

“You’ve spent half the afternoon wandering gardens with us,” he says. “You must be starving.”

Baelor tilts his head thoughtfully.

“That is a fair observation.”

Maekar exhales in mock relief.

“Good. For once we agree.”

Baelor’s gaze shifts to her, calm and warm.

“If it pleases you,” he says gently, “perhaps you would join us for dinner this evening.”

Maekar adds, almost casually,

“Both of us.”

Baelor inclines his head slightly.

“It seems only fair.”

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Authors Note:

"One for the money and two for the show" or whatever Lana said.

C.