Chapter Text
Lord Tully rarely involved himself in the disputes between the Blackwoods and Brackens anymore, having long since given up like many before him. These families were too stubborn for their own good, perpetuating a conflict that had stretched into the present for hundreds of years. They poisoned their children with hatred and thwarted any possibility of peace. One by one, the Lords had to accept that they could not change this pitiable state of affairs. However, as a Lord, it was still his duty to ensure that no massacre occurred. But in the name of the gods, he was so close to killing these idiots himself.
"Silence, my Lords. Silence!"
For the last twenty minutes, Lord Blackwood and Lord Bracken had hurled every conceivable insult at each other. This enraged not only Lord Tully but also the poor women married to these Manchildren.
While Lady Blackwood admonished her husband sternly, "William, darling, please pull yourself together," Lady Bracken had long since run out of patience. "Amos! Sit. Down. Immediately!"
But before Lord Tully or the respective ladies could finally silence the two men, the doors to the council chamber burst open, and the lords' shouting was replaced by the ear-piercing wailing of a small child.
Amos Bracken, at ones, turned towards the source of the screaming, recognizing it instantly, as only one child he knew could reach such a shrill pitch.
"Aeron?!"
The child, however, ignored him completely, hiding his small face in his aunt's skirts.
She stroked the troubled child's hair gently. "Darling, my sweet angel, what happened?" If anyone had hurt her little nephew, heads would roll!
Slowly, he lifted his tiny hand and pointed towards the door, where, a few seconds later, a disheveled head appeared.
"You little monster, what have you done to my nephew?" Amos approached the young boy with alarming steps.
"I dare you to touch my nephew!" bellowed William, grabbing Amos's wrist. The men glared at each other furiously.
"It's not Davos's fault that your nephew is a pus—"
"William!" His wife interrupted with a growl.
"—a crybaby!"
Before Lord Bracken could respond, Lady Bracken intervened.
"Aeron, my dear, what happened? Please, it's all okay. Did you hurt yourself, sweetheart?" She couldn't bear the pain-filled tears of her little one. Oh, please, let this be a misunderstanding.
"He- he," Aeron sobbed, pointing again in Davos's direction, "He says he wants to- to m- m- marry me, and I don't want that!"
The boy's crying seemed even louder in the complete silence of the room.
"What?" shouted Lord Bracken and Lord Blackwood in unison.
"I don't want to get married, Auntie!" Aeron exclaimed. "Roewen s- said that if you get married, you have to kiss and hold hands and make- make babies. I don't want to make babies!” The final part almost came out in a shout.
Elayne Bracken was speechless as she stroked her little nephew's head. Of all the things he could have said to her, this was the last thing she expected in a hundred years. What she also didn't expect were the tears in the little Blackwood boy's eyes, glinting and ready to roll down his cheeks.
"But," his voice stern despite the slight tremor.
"Davos, you can't marry him! What nonsense is this?" William burst out.
And this finally made Davos cry, prompting his aunt into action as she shot her husband a death glare. She knelt down to hug her nephew. "Don't cry, my little knight."
Davos pressed his face into his aunt Luciya's hair. "But he's so pretty! And small, so cute like the fawn we saw on our way here. And his hair is as soft as yours, no, even softer." He sobbed. "Why doesn't he want to marry me, Aunt Luciya?"
Before she could reply, a high-pitched voice chimed in, "Do you really think I'm as cute as a fawn?" His chubby cheeks gave away his blush.
Davos looked up and nodded sincerely before abruptly shaking his head. But before Aeron's small smile could falter, Davos quickly said, "You're cute and pretty, even prettier than my aunt and my cousin!" Davos glanced nervously at his aunt to see if he might have hurt her feelings. She, however, looked only surprised.
As Davos turned back to Aeron, the latter smiled broadly.
The uncles of both boys watched the scene in horror. When Amos looked at his nephew, a nearly prophetic expression of anguish appeared on his face as he observed Aeron's change in behavior.
"No," he whispered, pain evident in his voice. "Please no."
"If you keep giving me nice compliments like that, maybe we can get married after all.”