Disclaimer: Game of Thrones is D&D's property, after being GRRM's property. Or else, Lancel would be the happiest kid in Westeros, should it be mine.
Summary: Mending took time and healing took trust. The thing was, Lancel didn't love nor trusted himself.
Author's note: A huge thank you to Assassin Master Ezio 91 who helped in making the chapter guide and in brainstorming with me !
Author's note 2: English isn't my first language, it's french. If you see any mistake or issue with the language, feel free to tell me so that I can improve.
WARNING! THIS FANFICTION CONTAINS HEAVY THEMES SUCH AS DEATH, BULLYING, DEPRESSION, ABUSE ETC. IF YOU ARE ILL-AT-EASE WITH THOSE SUBJECTS, PLEASE FEEL FREE TO CLICK ON THE RED CROSS ON THE RIGHT TOP OF THE SCREEN.
Broken Things
Chapter 7
"With all due respect Uncle, I do think you are being too soft on him. It's been months. I understand his pain, but he doesn't seem to fight back."
Lancel just remained still, stitting on his chair, helping Janei by cutting her meat in small edible bites. He was so used to these words now.
"I appreciate your concern, Cersei. I really do. However, depression isn't something you can battle just like that. And to be honest, had I been in his shoes, I'd still be locked up in my house. Lancel chose to go back to school and his grades are surprisingly good."
Of course they were good. Lancel worked hard for three reasons. The first one meant he could focus on something and not think of the pain for a moment. The second reason meant the teachers left him in peace. But his last and main reason was that, this way, his parents were spared meetings, reproaches. He did that to protect them and that was the least he could do for them after murdering their son.
"It feels so empty without Willem..."
Whenever they went to his cousin Cersei for dinner, Tommen was happy because he had someone he could talk to about games. Joffrey disliked video games, stating they were for babies and Myrcella, while she enjoyed some games, was more into hand crafting. After dinner, the boys would be allowed to go to Tommen's room and play until they had to leave. Martyn was trying to fill the void and he would have loved to, if he had been able to speak or to function properly. The dinner had just started and he felt exhausted already. Tired of listening to his own bashing, tired of listening to Joffrey's lies while he made his life a misery at school. Amerei's class had gone to a field trip for a few days, so did Walda's and Marissa's and he had found himself all alone again, free to be tormented as his saviour wasn't around. He couldn't even defend himself. How pathetic. He was grateful for Amerei's kindness, he really was, but he was far beyond salvation. He was too old to change. He was just disposable garbage. The only thing he was good at was cleaning Willem's grave. Every friday, as he finished before Martyn, he took time to go to the graveyard and there, he took care of his baby brother. He cleaned the grave, made sure the flowers had water, that the marble was spotless, he rearranged the funeral ornements. It reminded him of the time when Willem was little, trying to tidy his room but he was as messy as his rebellious hair. Lancel would enter, suggest he could help, managing to reach higher shelves and as they grew, he offered him tip to tidy quickly and easily. The day Willem died, they had agreed to tidy his room when they'd be home, as he found it amusing to do, it never happened and now, his empty room was the perfect metaphor of their lives ever since he departed:
A bloody mess.
His father, despite his pain, the combined pain of a lost son, of a crippled one, of a broken one, managed to go on and he never saw him break or cry. He was their rock.
His mother had been destroyed, she had cried but she had kept going, for their sakes. She was her husband's rock, whenever he felt like breaking down.
Martyn was adjusting fast, not letting anything put him down again.
Even Janei, despite her young age and the fact that she missed Willem, was still a better rock for them all than he was.
Then, there was him. The murderer, the one that could not mend on his own, shattered like glass.
He was a bloody joke and they would all be better off without him. Without him, they would not have to face these kind of situations, they'd just have to focus on Martyn and Janei. He was a waste of attention, of place. Martyn was in a wheelchair and needed help until the house was completely functional for him. Janei was only four, she was growing up, she needed the guidance of their parents. He was taking that away from them. He was a murderer, a joke, a thief.
Yes, a thief.
He had stolen a son from them, he had stolen attention from his siblings, he had stolen time from the Frey sisters.
He needed to go, to be gone, for their sakes.
"Your parents, your siblings would miss you."
They'd cry, he knew. Because they had the misfortune of loving him when he wasn't worthy of anything, while he caused them nothing but pain. He was tired, tired of it all, tired of fighting, tired of his mind being hopeful one day to be clouded the following day.
He just kept on listening, watching over Janei, in silence, and while he heard his name being spoken once or twice, he felt and knew he was as invisible as he had always been.
Leaving wouldn't change anything.
Why did he keep on living then?
XXXXX
Dorna smiled as she saw the lovely scene under her eyes. She took her phone, took a picture and sent it to her husband. She knew he enjoyed those little messages from home, as it broke work with a welcomed fresh air. Martyn had fallen asleep in his chair, Janei on his laps, cuddled against him. She too was sleeping tight and sound. She remembered Lancel, a few years ago, when Janei was a toddler, she had found them sharing a nap on the couch. She entered carefully, not wanting to wake them up, but Martyn was always a light sleeper.
"Hey Mom."
"Slept well?"
"Kinda. Lancel and I finished earlier. We picked Janei up and he went to Willem."
She nodded. She was grateful Lancel was taking care of that. Facing that stone, knowing her baby was slowly decaying underneath, was more than she could handle. However, she was worried. She knew Lancel was in pain too and that wasn't his job to soothe her, it was hers to soothe him. Her son, while depressed and ill, was being braver than her, a healthy woman.
"I should buy a side-car." Martyn said
"A side-car?" She replied, puzzled
"Yeah, to attach to the chair. So that way, Janei could drive along."
His smile made her heart feel warm and herself feel hopeful. Martyn was being way better. Now, they really needed to focus on Lancel. He had been neglected for too long, much to her shame. He was of age but he was still their baby boy and he too was suffering away.
To Be Continued
