Burning Bright
Rhaegel
"How many seamstresses we're going to need to sew clothes for all the beggars we saw today down the road?"
The Princess of Dragonstone looked up from the accounts she was reviewing, and smiled. "Many," she replied. "As many as tens of thousands," she added and Rhaegel's eyes went wide. At five years, a hundred seemed incredibly huge for him, a thousand – almost impossible to imagine.
From the courtyard below, shouts arose and drew her to the window. The sight made her smile: in the white courtyard below, Baelor and Elaena's eldest boy attacked, drew back, and circled each other, so absorbed in their occupation that she could almost believe she was hearing the song of steel as their wooden blades danced. She quickly looked away before succumbing to the urge to open the window and shout a dozen maternal warnings. Snow was still amazing to her, after nine years here, but the ice glistening here and there made her anxious. Still, her boys navigated it far better than her. Even little Maekar rarely slipped and when he did fall, he simply rose and dusted himself off. Mariah still remembered the horror when she had fallen with him in her arms. He had been as young as ten months then, and as she had frantically reached over for him, he had used the moment to check what snow tasted like and having apparently liked it, he had offered her a fistful. She could still hear Daeron's laughter, relief and amusement melting. No, Baelor wouldn't slip but still she would rather not watch. He'd be mortified if she succumbed and cried out a warning.
"When are we going to summon them?" Rhaegel asked. "They need to start work immediately. It's so cold outside and beggars don't have houses to live in, do they? That's why they're beggars."
"Often, they don't," Mariah confirmed. "They don't have fire to warm themselves at. That's why it's so important that we, who are blessed to be princess and princesses, should work hard to improve their condition."
The ladies around her stirred anxiously. Mariah realized that once again, she had spoken like a man, a king or king in waiting should speak like. Her words weren't this different from Daeron's own sentiments but he was a king in waiting. And the idea that a queen or king should work for the beggars was so foreign to those powdered, bejeweled women around her that they might well consider her mad.
Rhaegel's eyes went wide. "They don't have fire?" he exclaimed. "Mother, we should made some for them! And clothes! When can the seamstresses arrive?"
Mariah smiled at his earnest way to right the world's wrongs. "It's quite impossible, Rhaegel," she explained. "They'll need fabrics, threads, and money to be paid and we just don't have this many. But that's why we have our charities. With the money your father and I give from our own allowance, three thousand beggars receive a hot morning meal every day and I support a charity that finds employment for beggars so they can no longer be beggars."
His eyes welled up and she realized that he had stopped hearing her words, something that happened to him quite often. "No fire!" he repeated.
"We try to provide fire for them," his mother said again, hopelessly trying to avoid what would happen next. As he usually did when something upset him, he'd enclose himself into a world of his own where no one could reach him. Sure enough, he started taking his tunic off. "Give it to those children that we saw begging," he said. "Give all my clothes to them."
"No…" she said weakly but it was too late. Her ladies from Dragonstone weren't surprised at all but the ones she was forced to endure at her grandfather's court sat goggled-eyed as her son started swaying like a mindless doll, screaming every time someone tried to come close. All that happened in the few moments Mariah needed to close the distance between them. He howled as she carried him outside – by the Seven, what would happen when he became too big for her to control? - and by the time they reached his chambers, he was already hanging limp in her arms. She placed him in bed, deciding against putting any other clothes on him since the touch of any fabric seemed to be hurting him in such moments; when he went to sleep, she headed for the royal library. Aerys looked up from his book for a moment and smiled at her; relief overpowering her, she walked to the nursery. Maekar was sleeping soundly and she stayed before his bed for a long time, wondering if he'd be lucky enough to escape the Targaryen curse. He was too young for her to know for sure, although Rhaegel had already started showing peculiarities at this age. The nursemaid was asleep and although it was technically not right for a royal child this young to stay unattended even as he slept, Mariah decided against waking her up. She kissed her youngest and left, spotting Baelor and Daenerys with the edge of her eye. They dashed into the first hall in their way as soon as they saw her which meant that they had something they knew was bad in mind but Mariah decided not to pursue the matter. She was just so happy to see them naughty, smart and sane.
"Tell the Prince that I'm too tired and I've retired to my bed," she told her onetime nursemaid who, of course, had accompanied her from Dorne.
"You want me to lie to him?" Lelia demanded.
"Why, would you rather have me dine with him and let him see the truth?" Mariah shot back. Of course, Daeron would know about that little episode by now and he would be happy to avoid her in this first hour when he couldn't help it but think that he was the reason and Mariah couldn't help it but remember that their son's curse was Daeron's blood.
Author Note: Not sure if this is going to be a four-shot, one for each prince, or something else. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. I wish you all a Happy New Year!