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His ragged breathing slowly steadies as the crumpled metal of his son’s helmet slides off his head, freeing him, and he faintly hears the men behind him exhale in relief, bowing to him before rushing to help their friend, who had settled back against the stone wall.
“You ought to find him an able maester, now - it may prove fatal for us to wait for Maester Yormwell to finish tending to my brother.” Baelor grunts out, as he leans back against the wall opposite of Ser Duncan, who loudly groans out in pain as the young Ser Raymun and the blacksmith unknown to Baelor - Goodman Pate, he thinks he’d heard, haul the hedge knight to his feet at their prince’s instruction.
As they drag the hedge knight away, Baelor spares little Egg a glance, offering a tired smile when seeing the boy’s wide, fearful eyes glued to his uncle - a worrier just like his beloved father. “Go on, Aegon. Your friend will need you far more than I do.” The man chuckles, watching as the boy nods, tension seeping from his tiny body, before hurrying away and disappearing behind a corner.
Baelor sags against the wall, having only just closed his eyes when he feels heavy, uneven footsteps thundering his way, and the shaky howling of his little brother, his voice more familiar to the heir than Baelor’s own, as it grows nearer. “YOU - Baelor, you fucking fool! Where have you been? Out of all of us, you were to be tended to first, not me, and yet, off you went and fucked off to nowhere. Gods be good, you’ll kill me before my sons ever have the chance - “
Maekar’s tangent is cut short by Baelor’s sudden fit of fond laughter, the older of the princes wincing slightly when the younger weakly shoves at his chest. “It’s not fucking funny, Baelor - just when I learn Daeron and Aerion will mercifully survive this nightmare, you’ve vanished into thin air.”
“You’re right, my love. Can you forgive me?” Baelor opens his eyes, expression softening as he takes in the sight of his baby brother, still so strikingly, hauntingly beautiful even with blood and sweat streaking his face, the cuts on his elegant face hastily bandaged. Baelor admires the other’s rumpled, moon-white hair, his perfect, amethyst eyes glittering with unshed tears, broad shoulders shuddering slightly - visible even as he remains clad in his armor. It’s clear as day that the adrenaline of combat has bled away, leaving only Maekar’s unrelenting fear and worry for everyone but himself. Baelor ignores the bone-deep aching coursing through him as he slowly pushes himself off the wall, and lifts his hands to cradle Maekar’s lovely face and offers a warm, weary smile. “Oh, my own darling. I should have been more thoughtful, I know. I’m sorry to have upset you like this.”
“Brother..I hit you too hard, too many times, I could have - you could have - “ Maekar cuts himself short with a soft, shuddering inhale, seeming to shrink in Baelor’s hold, and suddenly, the realization strikes the crown prince, the memory of Maekar’s panic, his urgency to reach Aerion after hearing his anguished wails, the ferocity of a dragon struggling to protect their young. Mercifully, no blow was too terrible - it’ll ache for many moons to come, but Baelor does not doubt it’s almost entirely exhaustion, and the unfamiliarity of fighting without his precious anvil alongside him, offering a stability no one could provide him with.
The older of the brothers pulls his trembling lover into his arms, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of Maekar’s head. “But you didn’t, and I am still here. By all the gods, I intend to be here for decades to come, and I’ll have you beside me for all of it.” Baelor murmurs into his brother’s hair, sagging with relief when the other man’s arms wrap around him just as tightly.
“Then - please…please do not -” He feels Maekar shudder underneath him, voice cracking as he struggles to get each word out. “Do not go where I cannot follow. I cannot - I cannot bear the loss of you, my soul could not survive it.” He exhales shakily as he feels his little brother’s tears and weak gasps for air against his neck.
“You know, even if you had - if you had…I would never blame you -”
“That is not the fucking point, it is your own thoughtlessness - “ Maekar spits out, shuddering.
“Alright. Alright, I acquiesce. I’ll see the maester -” Maekar’s grip tightens around him, and Baelor wheezes out a loud laugh. “I’ll be more careful, my love. I swear it.” The crown prince draws back, lifting his hands back up to cup his brother’s angelic face, thumbs carefully wiping away his tears, and Baelor’s smile only grows as he feels the warmth blooming on Maekar’s cheeks. “Anything you want. You know I could never deny you.”
Baelor leans in, scattering delicate, doting kisses to Maekar’s forehead and nose, under his eyes where the tears had fallen, before kissing him sweetly on his still quivering lips, swallowing the shuddering breath Maekar lets out. His baby brother, always delicate under the right touch, melts against him, his lips parting open, relenting to Baelor as they had so many times before - and the warmth blooming in his big brother’s chest at their embrace soothes the pains of battle.
However, when they part for breath, Maekar is moving swiftly, hooking an arm around Baelor’s shoulders and dragging him away from the tourney field, with all its blood and grief, hauling him back towards the castle with great effort. “You’ve given me your word, now.” Maekar huffs out, panting softly from exertion. “And I’ll see you fulfill it.”
Baelor only smiles, right until he makes note of the limp in his brother’s walk, and the unease with which he breathes - and then, it’s all he can see, the agony in his limbs dulling to little more than a soreness Baelor can easily ignore. His pain pales in comparison to that of his precious brother, his beloved, his grounding anvil whom he cannot strike without. Straining, he reaches to wrap an arm around Maekar’s waist, shifting until he is bearing both their weight instead, pointedly ignoring how his brother squirms in his grasp. “What in the seven hells -”
“You may watch me fulfill my vows to you, brother - and you will grant me the same thing and lie down while the maesters tend to me. And I will accept no refusals from you. Coming here with your leg in such a state is already too far.”
“Would you have done it any differently, eh?” Maekar bites out, but slumps against his brother with an irritated sigh, giving in easily - they had alright fought once that day, and it had almost been the end of them both. “Can I at least get up to take a bath? I’m starting to smell worse than Egg’s giant fucking hedge knight.”
Baelor’s quiet snort of laughter earns a small giggle from Maekar, both the princes still smiling as they finally enter the halls of the small, dimly lit castle, soon being swarmed by servants, who only settle when Maekar, ever reliable after such chaos, barks out orders without a moment’s hesitation. Baelor offers them a polite smile, too exhausted to exchange any niceties, to showcase his always iron-clad composure to their subjects as he’d always done, and most scatter to fulfill their prince’s demands, to see to the varying states of the surviving combatants.
The brothers only part when led into their chambers - formally Baelor’s, but he cannot sleep in peace without his other half nestled safely into his arms. Maekar is propped up on their bed, scowling as pillows are set under his ankle, as the older of the two is sat down in a nearby chair.
Baelor lets quiet sighs slip out when the maester’s treatment grows painful, shoulders stiffening, or his grasp on the arm of his chair tightening, only to soon ease his grip under his brother’s watchful eye, lest he should bring Maekar any more heartbreak. Maekar, his cherished lover - his brother, who is always watching, always jerking his head away and flushing in embarrassment whenever Baelor meets his gaze, even now.
But, the heir waits with a patience only he ever could, for when the younger slowly turns his head back around, violet eyes lock onto mismatched ones - a cloudy blue and amber brown that light up when their eyes meet. Their gazes offer the words they will not utter in front of others, adoration bleeding into the space between them, and Baelor does not fret about every affectionate thought left unsaid. He will find the time for them, for every one of the infinite endearments he can offer Maekar.
He will find time - he has so much of it still left.