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Chapter Text

She looked to be younger than him. Or perhaps just short for her age. 

Her clothes were well-made and mostly clean. Nothing fancy but they were not covered in darned patches either. Davos spared a thought to consider her borrowing an older brother's grown-out clothes. It would make sense, considering the toy sword she was swinging, hacking at invisible enemies. 

A little lady knight. 

It fascinated him, honestly. He had never met a girl who wanted to be a knight. 

The hunk of wood rose in the air, her arms going stiff as she noticed him. Davos found himself staring as he got a better view of her face. It was shiny with sweat, a bit of dirt. Strands of her hair stuck to her cheeks and forehead where they had come loose from her half-a-ponytail. 

"Pretty." The word popped out without thought, but he could not say he regretted it. She was easily the prettiest girl he had seen. 

Prettier than any girl in Raventree Hall. Maybe even prettier than any girl in the Riverlands. 

No, not maybe. Definitely. 

Davos could stare at her forever. 

The pink spots on the girl's face turned fully red. "I'm not." 

"Are too," Davos said. 

The girl scowled at him, offended for some reason. Davos came to a realization. 

Well, a couple. 

"Oh, right. You're going to be a knight, huh?" He would need to beat up anybody who talked ill of his wife's pursuits. That's what a good husband did. He should be supportive. No one should bully her. 

The girl kept scowling, suspicious. "Yes." 

"If you need a knight to squire under, I can speak with my uncle," Davos suggested. "He knows many knights." 

Surprise bloomed at his offer, but she was quick to shake her head. "No. I already- that's- it's fine. I'm fine. I'm going to be a knight." 

"I think you'll be a fine knight," Davos offered. 

"Well." Her sword lowered, and she nodded. "Obviously. Better than you." 

"I don't know about that," Davos said with a shake of his head, amused. "But you're prettier than I for sure." 

The way her cheeks puffed out a little made him smile. 

Davos pulled out a half-eaten loaf he had tucked into his pocket, and he tore it in half, keeping the smaller bitten half to himself. He held out the other to her. "Don't forget to eat. It leaves for better results in training." 

The girl looked at the bread only briefly before turning her eyes to the ground. Well, the invisible line struck across it. They were near the boundary stones after all. 

"You can come closer. I don't bite," Davos insisted. 

The girl was back to a frown. "I'm not supposed to go that far." 

"A Blackwood is inviting you," Davos said, hoping to soothe her nerves. 

She took a step back. "You're speaking with a Bracken." 

That was unfortunate, but he had expected she was related to that House somehow. She was standing on that side. He was young, not stupid. The coloring of her tunic was suspicious enough. 

"What's your name?" 

"... Aeron." 

Must be a nickname. Aerona was a girl's name. Arianne. Arianna. Or maybe it was spelled differently. Davos liked it. "I'm Davos." 

Aeron lifted her chin, looking him in the eye. "I thank you for the offer, but I will have to decline." 

"I will bring cake next time," Davos told her, smiling wider despite the rejection. "Do you like cake?" 

Aeron paused, stern expression falling. "Cake?" 

"Cake," Davos confirmed. "Or if you're partial to pie, I can bring that instead. I like apple pies." 

"I like apple pies too," Aeron said, looking as pleased as Davos felt to have something in common. "The crust is the best part, isn't- wait. Why? You shouldn't be bringing me cakes or pies." 

"Why not? Shouldn't I court you first?" Davos asked. 

Aeron spluttered. "What?" 

"Do not worry. It won't interfere with your knightly duties," Davos assured her. "If you don't want babies, we don't need babies. My father's a second son, and my uncle already has an heir." 

Aeron stared at him for several seconds. She held her sword toy in one hand while the other came up to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Do you think I'm a girl. Why do people keep thinking..." 

It was Davos's turn to pause. He took the liberty of walking closer to squint at her face, staying shy of the boundary. 

"... Are you not?" 

Aeron reached across the invisible line and poked him in the chest with the wooden piece, annoyed. "No, you fool." 

Davos considered this. And considered it some more. 

"Now that that is clear, please leave. I was playing here first," Aeron stated, arms crossing over his chest. He turned his head, looking off into the distance. "You- you were just being nice because of that, and it's wrong. So go away." 

"But you're so pretty." Davos couldn't imagine having a prettier wife. The "boy" thing was throwing him off if he was being honest, but he really wanted to marry her. Him. "Let me court you. I want you to be my wife." 

"I'm a boy," Aeron repeated. 

"Do you want me to be the wife instead?" Davos asked. If it was only a matter of calling him that rather than leaving home as wives did, then he might consider it. 

Aeron covered his mouth, surprised at his own laugh. His words were muffled. "You're funny..." 

"I won't let my family bother you or say mean things to you, and you can come over whenever you want when we're courting," Davos continued, poking a pretty nose with his bread. "I'll bring you lots of apple pies, and we can wrestle." 

Aeron frowned, conflicted again. "I don't... know. I'll think about it?" 

Davos wiggled the bread. Aeron grabbed it at last, taking a hesitant bite of it. Davos grinned and reached out to touch that pretty hair of his. If Aeron was a girl, he wouldn't have dared, but he was a boy. Maybe it was better he was a boy. He could be more casual with him. 

Maybe even hug him soon. 

Aeron flinched a little but settled down quickly, glancing up at him and chewing. Davos pet his hair. Even as tangly as it was from the wind and whatever play-practice Aeron had done, it was soft. Soft and pretty. 

So pretty. 

"How long are you letting this get?" Davos asked, curious. "To your waist?" 

He tried to imagine it, and he liked that too. 

"That's too long," Aeron insisted, starting to shake his head and then stopping when Davos kept petting him. His cheeks were red again. "This much is nice." 

"How do you get it this soft?" 

"I wash it?" 

Davos kept petting Aeron while he ate, fiddling with his hair. Aeron then retaliated by ruffling Davos's hair with his hands after getting him to lean down. 

Chapter Text

Blackberry oatcake, honey cake slice, apple pie slice, strawberry pie slice, apple tarts... hm, what else? 

Oh, look, lemon cakes! He hadn't realized they were in season yet. What joy. Davos hurried over to that counter in the kitchen, begging pardon from the cooks, and reached out to grab the biggest-looking handheld pastry for his Aeron. 

Aeron deserved only the best. He was going to be his wife some day. Or maybe his husband. 

The term-calling was to be debated at a later date, once Aeron agreed to accept his courtship officially. Yes. 

A large adult hand caught the handle of his basket, pulling Davos's attention away, fingers jerking back from the lemon cake. 

"Your mother will have my ear if you spoil your supper with treats from my kitchens again," Uncle Samwell chided, holding the basket higher than Davos could reach even with a jump and ignoring the way the boy frowned. "You can have desserts later." 

"But Uncle, it's not for me," Davos insisted. 

"Oh? Do tell," Uncle Samwell said. 

"No, it's not for me," Davos explained. "I found someone special to woo." 

That changed his tune in an instant. Gone was the mild rebuke. 

His uncle wiped a proud tear from his eye. Well, a fake one. He wasn't crying. He was just kind of dramatic like that sometimes. "My my, you're growing into a man already. My little nephew's taken by a girl." 

"He's a boy actually," Davos corrected. 

Uncle Samwell paused. Stared at the wall for several moments, saying nothing. 

"A boy?" he said. He sounded strange. Davos wasn't sure what he was thinking. "You want to woo a boy?" 

"He's so pretty, he can even pull off yellow," Davos added with a nod. 

Uncle Samwell's mouth twitched, a small smile rising. "You do sound smitten, lad." 

"You can meet him later but only if you promise to be kind," Davos said. 

The discomfort softened out of Uncle Samwell's face. His hand came to clasp Davos's shoulder, giving it a fond squeeze. "I see." 

It was good he understood. "I'm going to marry him." 

"Uh." Uncle Samwell scratched at his head. "You don't have to be so serious about it...? He's only a boy." 

"But Uncle." Davos had to be serious. "If I don't start courting him soon, someone else surely will! He's too pretty. And- and I want him to live with me forever. That's why we should get married." 

Uncle Samwell stared at him some more before handing the basket back. "We can discuss this more another time. Just... don't go around telling everyone that. Use discretion." 

"May I send him letters please? I would like to send him gifts too. Could I commission a knife for him?" 

"... Ask your father about all that. Go have your fun for now. Make sure to leave room in your belly for supper." 

Father always told him that Blackwoods were horrible, violent, and rude. Without exception. 

His cousins said similar things. His uncles and his aunts. 

It was why Aeron could not fully believe Davos when he insisted he only wanted to bring him desserts. If he saw a Blackwood, he wasn't really supposed to interact with them, as he was still small and weak. Too small and weak to be a knight and defend their land. 

That being said, Aeron wasn't craven. 

He had agreed to come back to that spot on this day, and so he did. 

He felt really stupid for doing so without telling anyone, but he did. On the slim chance that Davos was different than his kin and actually a decent person, he didn't want his cousins to kick the other boy around or punch him bloody for his declarations to wed him. No, just for existing. 

They would. He was sure of it. 

They hated Blackwoods. That was normal. Blackwoods hated them back. 

Davos was the odd one, playing nice with a Bracken. 

Maybe Aeron was a little odd too. He actually wanted to believe him. Purely for the sake of getting pie, of course. Nothing deeper than that. 

Aeron stayed on his side of the boundary and lifted a hand in greeting once Davos came into sight. Davos looked a bit insane as he waved back, grinning widely as if he was truly happy to see him. 

And then just silly when he tripped on something and fell sideways into the river. Davos somehow managed to remember to throw the basket onto the ground before he hit the water. 

Spurred by his assumption that he couldn't swim just like little cousin Ben and little cousin Marya, Aeron leapt into action. Or, well, ran. 

Just as he was about to dive into the river headfirst, Davos popped up, coughing and laughing. He swam closer, taking Aeron's hand. Aeron dragged him up, letting out a small grunt. Wet clothes made him even heavier. 

"Were you worried about me?" Davos asked, going on his knees as he shucked his waterlogged cloak. 

"N-No," Aeron denied instantly, annoyed at his stammer. 

"Pretty and sweet. You're shaping up to be quite the lovely husband," Davos commented, tugging playfully at a lock of hair hanging over Aeron's collarbone.

Then he turned his attention to the basket on the ground. He pried open the lid and glanced inside. Aeron watched him frown. He took the basket from him. The pastries were squished and partially smashed into each other, but they were still edible. 

Aeron could appreciate the effort involved in getting them here, as well as the fact that Davos had kept his word. He brought him pies and cakes. Must really want to impress him, huh? 

"Take your boots off. They're squishy and disgusting now," Aeron said. He hugged the basket to his stomach. "Unlike these pastries. So." 

Davos smiled, pleased. "Alright. Eat it then." 

He took off his boots and stockings, wringing out the latter aggressively. Aeron broke off a section of pie crust and stuck it into his mouth. 

"The presentation may be lacking, but it is one of the finest pies Raventree can produce. Do you like it?" Davos asked, shaking a boot upside down now. 

"Mm..." Aeron wasn't the best at describing flavors yet, but it tasted as pie crusts should. Really good! "I like it a lot. Here, try this." 

Aeron held out another piece. This piece had apple and the filling goo on it. Delicious stuff. 

Davos leaned forward and ate it right out of his palm. Aeron squeaked, surprised. He couldn't help but laugh, face scrunching up in disgust. 

"Davos!" At least he didn't lick him too, but that was still... "You're not a baby. Don't do that." 

"Oh, you weren't trying to feed me?" 

"Not like that." Aeron couldn't stop giggling. 

Davos just stared at him, delighted. Unashamed. 

Chapter Text

"What's got you so quiet?" Aeron asked, leaning into the other boy's shoulder. 

Davos looked up from the painting. It was honestly rather ugly, and the edges of the paper were messy from being folded and stuffed into his pocket. Aeron wasn't a good artist. Made sense. He wasn't that old yet. 

Still, the abnormally large raven sitting next to the horse was just so... he loved it. 

"You made this?" Davos said. 

Aeron nodded. "Mm hm. It's for you. Since you're my-" 

"-wife." 

"Friend," Aeron corrected with a roll of his eyes, smile quirking. 

Davos would take it. Friends today, husband and wife tomorrow. "I shall frame it and hang it on my wall." 

"You need not go that far," Aeron said. 

"No, I will cherish it for eternity," Davos insisted. 

Aeron looked pleased. "Do as you wish. You always do." 

Davos straightened out the crinkles to the best of his ability and folded it up again. He tucked it under his doublet. He then held out his hand to Aeron, expectant. 

"Want to ride on Blueberry? That's why I brought her today." 

"Is it with you too?" Aeron wanted to know. 

"Yeah," Davos confirmed. 

"Then sure," Aeron agreed, reaching out to take his hand. 

Their fingers laced together. Davos liked how warm his hand was, even if it was a little sweaty. He found it adorable that Aeron's hands were a little smaller than his. He wondered if they would still be smaller when they grew up. Probably not. 

"Come on." 

Aeron's little smile had his heart fluttering. Davos found himself getting dragged along, the younger boy skipping in his excitement. 

The writing alone suggested this was done with a child's hand, messy scrawl that was legible but far from elegant. And then there were the words within. 

Salutations, Lord Tully, Lord Paramount of the Trident 

My name is Davos Blackwood, and I humbly greet you. If possible and should you have extra time to spare, I would appreciate if you could reply to this letter. Only if you have the time of course. Please take your time. 

There is a person I would like to marry. He is the prettiest boy in the Riverlands. He has a nice smile and laughs easier than you would expect. Very tickle-able. He gets along well with my pony Blueberry and likes apple pies just like me. His name is Aeron. He's a Bracken. 

Father and Uncle tell me that boys cannot get married. If this is indeed correct information, I would like to ask that consideration is given toward revising or altering the law surrounding marriages. If we start now, it could surely be fixed by the time Aeron is six and ten. Then we could get married. 

I am aware this is a serious request from a member of House Blackwood, but I would truly appreciate it and forever be in your debt. I would like to marry Aeron and no one else. Thank you again for listening, and please have a pleasant rest of your day. 

Sincerely, Davos Blackwood

Grover read the missive thrice before setting it down, genuinely baffled. In all his years, he had never once met a Blackwood that would willingly betroth himself to a Bracken. They did marry into the rival House occasionally for political reasons, but that always went poorly. 

And yet this boy... he was talking about this so openly?! 

Could it be? A Blackwood and a Bracken getting along in the same space without gutting the other? 

At this point, following centuries of feuding, he could care less that they were both boys. If they actually liked each other, he was preserving that bond. Mayhaps it could actually change something, their simple affection. 

Would it fix attitudes overnight? Of course not. But it was a start. 

"Bring me a quill and paper." 

"Right away, my lord." 

Amos very nearly coughed up blood when the betrothal contract landed on his desk. If it was from that bastard Samwell, he would have rejected it in an instant, tossed it into the flames where it belonged and drawn up papers to refuse the offer, but the Tully crest was stamped proudly upon it, along with Grover Tully's signature! 

His goblet suffered for it, cracking into the wall with sufficient force to shatter it. 

What had gotten into that old man? Was his memory failing him at his age? He was getting a bit decrepit these days... had to walk about with a cane. Bad knees. 

Amos was fueled by pure protective rage and curdled offense as he wrote seventeen pages worth of reasoning why his young nephew shouldn't be wedding that heathen's spawn. Aeron was a boy. If an arranged marriage had to occur (Gods forbid), they had to at least choose a child of the appropriate sex. 

Davos Blackwood? Unacceptable! 

He implored Lord Tully to reconsider. 

Then he had Byron bring the boy in to his office to soothe any worries. Poor thing. 

Aeron hugged him back, visibly confused by the random show of affection but happy nonetheless. He was still at the age that he liked holding hands with relatives and cuddling when cuddling was on the table. 

"Are you well, Uncle?" 

Amos leaned back, hands on the boy's shoulders. "There might be some talk of betrothal soon, but don't fret. Uncle will fix it all, hm? He won't let you get married to some despicable little brat." 

Aeron frowned, worried already. Amos wondered if another hug was necessary. 

"Please don't kill him. If he challenged Uncle to a duel, he's just being a fool. He can be overeager," Aeron said. 

Amos paused, confused. Suspicion took root in his heart. "... Who is it you speak of?" 

"Um." Aeron fidgeted. "Davos? That wasn't who you meant?" 

"What." 

His nephew fiddled with the toy horse in his hand, cheeks pinking. "Davos is rather pleasant for a Blackwood. He's a bit odd, but he's very sweet. Please don't hurt him. He's my friend." 

Amos shook his head, too stunned to speak. 

It was something he could not process. His filial polite nephew couldn't have befriended a menace like that. No. "That's not possible." 

Aeron misunderstood his meaning. "No, he really is nice. He even lets me ride on his back if I ask." 

Amos needed to lie down. This was too much. 

Chapter Text

Not even ten namedays under his belt, and already this brat was such a headache. Samwell couldn't believe the willful little shit went above his head and wrote to Grover Tully. Of all the impulsive and rash... 

Why couldn't his nephew just disembowel one of the cunts? Cut off a finger or two? Stab him in the neck? Samwell would rather deal with the fallout from that. 

Why did the boy have to grow smitten with a Bracken?! 

Where did his brother go wrong raising that kid? 

Samwell loathed to admit it, but this was one of the rare times he and Amos Bracken were in complete agreement. Getting their nephews betrothed sounded like a terrible idea. A Bracken wedding into his family? 

Ugh. Was there anything worse? And the playdates. There were biweekly playdates in the contract to make matters worse. As in, they had to meet up with those wretches twice every week. Let the boys play together. 

It was physically possible to do so, given the proximity of their territories, but the concept itself was physically repulsive. 

His nephew. Playing with a Gods forsaken Bracken. Playing with a Bracken he had to marry some day. Playing with a Bracken he was already smitten with. 

Grover raised a hand to cease their squabbling. 

"I am not dissolving the contract. I see many benefits to fostering that relationship," he stated. "They already have affection for each other, and that is a decent foundation for a solid marriage." 

"They are confused," Amos ventured, so angry he actually looked like he might begin weeping. 

Samwell would normally mock him for that face he was making, but he reluctantly and wholeheartedly agreed. "Children change their minds all the time. They are such fickle creatures at that age." 

"What they say shouldn't be taken to heart," Amos continued. 

"It is clearly the fault of his nephew," Samwell claimed, angling an accusatory finger at his rival. "My Davos wasn't interested in marriage at all and gagged at the mere idea of people kissing before that child corrupted him. Now he's picking out cake flavors for his wedding." 

"Aeron may be well spoken for his age, but he is six," Amos snarled back, drawing his sword. Gone was the earlier distress, and only rage remained. "I dare you to repeat that. If anything, your shitty whelp is at fault here! He called him a friend! A FRIEND?! AND WHO MADE THIS ABSURD REQUEST IN THE FIRST PLACE!" 

Samwell went to grab the hilt of his own blade, but Willem beat him to it, already advancing with a stony expression. 

Grover snapped his fingers, and the guards got to work, tackling them into submission. 

"Do I need to keep you in the cells for a couple nights? Behave like men grown and keep from throwing these tantrums." 

Ireyne couldn't say it was a shock that she was left muchly in charge of her son's playdates. As a Butterwell that wed into House Blackwood, she was inclined to keep a clearer head and actually ensure that the boys played comfortably. 

That wasn't to say she wasn't taken aback by these developments. She was. 

But she could also see how happy Davos was. Even mentioning little Aeron Bracken made him grin ear to ear. 

"Look, Mother. He painted this for me. And also this one too. He's really bad, isn't he? I really like them though." 

Or: "Mother, he brings me ointment for bruises. You know, the ones I get when I practice sword stuff or when I wrestle with Cyrus and Jeremy. Isn't he cute? I love him." 

When they actually interacted in her sight, it was even plainer, how smitten he was. 

"See, Mother? Isn't he the prettiest?" Davos declared, waving a proud hand toward the boy in yellow. "That's my Aeron." 

Aeron ignored him, but there was a shine to his eye that implied he was far from displeased. His smile was a little too warm to be purely polite. "Good morrow, Lady Ireyne. Might I present my mother, the Lady Hellen?" 

Okay, she had to admit. He was rather darling and oddly pretty for a boy child. Ireyne wanted to squish his cheeks. 

"He seems sweet," she remarked to Hellen, who may or may not be a Pemford girl if her memory served. 

Hellen nodded, pausing first to pat over her son's cutely braided hair, done half up and half down with a red ribbon securing the braid. "Aeron is terribly sweet when he's not sneaking over to the wrong side of the boundary stones." 

Her words were more teasing than admonishing, but Aeron blanched nonetheless, lowering his head. 

"I'm sorry, Mother..." 

"Go play," Hellen insisted. "Stay where we can see you." 

Aeron perked back up. "Thank you, Mother." 

Davos was already grabbing Aeron's hand. He jabbed a finger at a nearby tree. "Mother, Mother, can we climb that?" 

"Just exercise caution," Ireyne said. 

Davos nodded, very serious. Then he turned to Aeron, a smirk on his face. "I'll get to the top first." 

"No, I will," Aeron retorted. 

Ireyne and Hellen watched them quite literally sprint at the tree, still holding hands. They only separated when they got to the tree's trunk. 

"The picnic was a good idea," Hellen told her, moving to place one of the containers she brought down on the blanket. "This area is lovely." 

"Thank you."

Ireyne mostly chose this spot because she didn't want to traumatize little Aeron with the extended Blackwood family first thing. One of those cousins might act up, particularly the young ones. Even with the guards... 

...things could happen. 

Davos liked playing outside, so it was for the best. 

"Mayhaps they can have a swimming playdate next time," Hellen suggested with a smile. "Aeron says your boy can swim?" 

"He can, yes," Ireyne confirmed. 

"Lots of good spots by the river." 

"Indeed. And the weather has been pleasant of late." 

"Most certainly." 

They shared a look of understanding and looked back at their sons. 

"-Davos, don't hang off the branch like that. You're going to fall and break your head open." 

Chapter Text

"It doesn't bother you?" 

"What?" Aeron rolled over on his stomach, kicking up his ankles. 

Byron bopped his little brother's little nose with a gloved finger. "Having to marry a boy." 

He doubted Aeron was having as much trouble as the adult members of his family. He was fairly certain they had yet to cover the whole "relations with a member of the same sex is a sin" aspect in the sermons children his age were allowed to attend. 

They didn't bring up too many mature topics like that until the children were a little older. If he was confused, it was because he had never seen any men or women openly displaying such relationships. 

Byron... well, Byron did find the situation... peculiar. And the fact that the aforementioned betrothed was a Blackwood didn't sit right with him. However... it just wasn't something in his heart to muster up. Disgust, that is. 

How could he be disgusted by Aeron? Impossible. 

Just look at this little face. 

Aeron propped his chin up on his palms, fingers curling onto his cheeks. He stared at the ceiling for a moment. "Hmmm, well, I don't think it's so bad. He's a bit stupid, but he's also fun and nice and-" 

"Stupid?" Byron prompted, curious. 

"Yeah, he thought I was a girl for sooooo long," Aeron explained. 

"Oh yeah?" 

"Yeah! I told him my name and everything, and he still thought I was a girl." 

Byron smiled, sympathetic to his plight. "Fear not. In ten years' time, I am certain you will have a jaw sharp enough to dissuade anyone from thinking so. You'll take after Father. Very manly." 

Aeron perked up, delighted at the words. "You think so?" 

Byron gestured at his face, amused. "All this soft stuff is in the way. You have stern bones under there." 

Aeron poked at his own face for a while, fascinated. Then he looked back at Byron. "He's sort of smart too. He didn't ask Uncle with a letter or a fight. That would have gone poorly, right?" 

Byron winced at the mental image that supplied. "Ah... indeed." 

"I don't understand why he wants to marry me," Aeron admitted. "There are prettier people than me. Mama is the prettiest. And Aunt Lythene is also very pretty. And Cousin Lucille and um. There are pretty people outside of Stone Hedge too. There's got to be pretty people at Raventree. And ones that are girls. I just don't get why he'd want to marry me. Seems like a lot of extra steps." 

"Are you concerned he may grow bored of you?" Byron would have to take matters into his own hands if Aeron wasn't treated right. 

"No. No, I don't think he will," Aeron decided. 

The way he didn't require time to think of it was intriguing. "Why's that?" 

"He's very si- sink- sice- sinche-" The word eluded him. 

"Sincere?" Byron suggested. 

"Sin-cere," Aeron concurred, enunciation heavy on the final syllable. His fingers tapped against his cheeks. His ankles swung a little, back and forth. "I don't understand why he acts like that, but he is." 

"I should hope so." Davos Blackwood had best keep that up. "Where do you want to live when you grow old like me? You'll live at Stone Hedge, right?" 

"Davos would get lonely, and I think that would make me sad. Can't we have a house right in the middle?" Aeron asked. 

Byron blinked at that. "On... the boundary line? That middle?" 

"That's the fairest," Aeron confirmed, head bobbing. 

"You're not technically wrong..." 

"We can spend time with everyone equally then." Aeron looked up at him with his aren't I a clever boy? grin, and Byron felt his lips twitch despite himself. 

"We can come back to that." 

"Oh, did I tell you he was fun? He's funny too." 

"Is he? What does he do that's funny?" 

Another day, another playdate with Aeron. What joy. 

They were carving pictures in the damp soil with sticks when Davos heard some voices. Familiar ones. Definitely getting nearer. 

Davos immediately moved to confront them, reasonably concerned they may throw rocks at Aeron or maybe mud or something. There were exactly two reactions a Blackwood child had to meeting a Bracken child. 

Forgoing the exception that was immediately proposing marriage. 

One, they had a scuffle, or two, they had a competition that often devolved into a scuffle or an argument. Skipping stones was rather popular as were pushups and footraces. It was a simple thing, but it still invited pride to their respective House. 

"Boys," Mother greeted. 

"Aunt Ireyne." 

"Hello, Aunt Ireyne." 

"Has your day been pleasant?" 

"It's going well, yes," Mother affirmed. 

"What do you want?" Davos asked, squinting suspiciously. 

"Davos..." 

Cyrus kept staring at Aeron while Jeremy responded. "We wanted to see this Aeron person." 

"We should arm wrestle," Cyrus suggested. 

"No," Davos retorted, holding up a hand. Eleven and six and a half did not make for a good arm wrestle match. 

"I could beat him," Aeron mused, actually insane enough to size Cyrus up, cocking a brow with a hand at his hip. 

Davos liked that part of him too. He was intriguingly bold sometimes. It was fascinating. But no. Not right now. 

He wrapped an arm around Aeron's shoulders and pulled him back. Then he put his other arm around for good measure. Ah, he loved how small he was. The perfect size to fit under his chin. Well, almost perfect. He had to lean on his toes a little bit. 

Aeron made a darling little hmph and settled down. 

Jeremy coughed, glancing off in the distance with a pained expression. Awkward. "My sister says this oil is good for hair. Or whatever. Here." 

Cyrus produced a bottle of what was presumably hair oil. Hm. 

"What's it smell like?" was what Aeron wanted to know. 

"You know rosemary?" 

"Uh huh." 

"It's a lot like that." 

"That sounds nice actually. Please give your sister my thanks." 

"Sure." Cyrus dropped it in Aeron's hand. 

"We have some sandwiches leftover. Would you boys like any?" Lady Hellen asked. 

"Yes," Cyrus said at the same time Jeremy said, "No." 

After some elbowing from both parties, Jeremy amended his statement to, "Yes please." 

Davos eyed them. They weren't being hostile. Just kind of awkward. They were his friends too, so. 

"You can draw with us if Aeron is fine with it." 

"I'm fine with it." 

Cyrus gave a thumbs up, his mouth already stuffed full of bread and meat. Jeremy shrugged, which was as good as a yes from him. 

"You know you can let go of me now, right?" Aeron remarked, head tilting back like he wanted to look up at him. 

"Can't I hug you more?" Davos asked, pouting. 

Aeron's ears turned pink. "That's... fine. Alright." 

Davos nuzzled into the top of his head, pleased. 

Chapter Text

"If he is going to take you to wife..." Frenlyn began, fingers plucking a merry tune out of his lute. 

"Husband," Emmon corrected, doing his best to keep the disgust from his voice. He did not wish for his little cousin to presume he was repulsed by him when it was that cunning and awful Blackwood that had trapped him in this absurd betrothal. It was that bastard who drew his ire. Not Aeron. 

Emmon's fingers plucked at the strings of his lute too. 

"Can I have a husband too?" his younger brother interjected, much to Emmon's horror. 

"No," he refuted immediately, overshadowed by Aeron's pleasant, "Yes, why shouldn't you?" 

"Endrew, no." Emmon set down his instrument. 

"Why not?" Endrew kept his eyes on his fiddle, lip caught between his teeth as he missed a note. "Tch." 

"Why would you want to marry a man? Girls are so much prettier." 

Endrew glanced up and pointed at Aeron's face. "Not true." 

"I'm not pretty," Aeron said, rather predictably. 

"You cannot have children if you have a husband," Emmon said. 

"We have eight siblings. My lack of babies won't lead to the extinction of our bloodline," Endrew retorted. 

"IF HE IS GOING TO MARRY YOU-" 

They stopped bickering long enough to pay attention to an impatient Frenlyn. 

His volume gradually lowered. 

"-shall the heathen be coming to certain functions?" 

"Oh, like festivals?" Aeron guessed, earning a nod. 

"Namedays, festivals... the like," Frenlyn said. 

"I have to ask him first, but I believe that he will. Davos enjoys spending time with me." 

"You were going to ask him?" 

"Yes. We are friends before we are betrothed."

Their sour-faced cousin cracked a smile for once. "That is a fine outing for affianced children your age. Act the part and be chivalrous." 

Aeron smiled back. "I will, Cousin." 

"Why are you encouraging him?" Emmon demanded. It was a Blackwood! A Blackwood! 

Frenlyn ignored him. 

"I don't even talk to girls outside my family. Wouldn't it make more sense to fall in love with a boy?" Endrew muttered. 

"Do you like a boy like that?" Aeron asked. 

"Not right now." 

"Ah." 

"The Festival of the Mother arrives soon." Aeron kicked a rock with his toe, watching as it bounced off a tree's root. "Do you want to come or no?" 

Davos blinked at him, face gone blank. 

"The Mother?" 

"The Mother." Even a heathen like a Blackwood must know who the Mother is. Davos was dumb but not that dumb. 

Davos blinked some more. 

Aeron frowned when he didn't say anything. Was this where the line was drawn? Davos was willing to accept he was a boy, not a girl. Davos was willing to accept he was a Bracken. Davos was willing to jump through all these hurdles to try and marry him. 

Was going to a festival that difficult? 

"I'm not attempting to get you to-" Ah, what was the word? Something that began with a c... eh. Time to rephrase. "You do not have to practice my faith if you do not wish to. That's like asking you to stop being a Blackwood, isn't it?" A small smile came to Davos's face, which spurred Aeron on. "I am willing to attend your holidays or, um, visit your holy trees." 

"Weirwood trees," Davos amended softly, and Aeron nodded. 

"Weirwood. That. If you want to be my wife, this is something you need to think about. My family is pious, and your family is pious, just in a different way. We have to compromise." That was what married couples did. 

There were no babies that had to be raised one way or the other, so it was a lot simpler for them. 

They need only think about what they wanted to do together. 

"Oh, so you wish for me to be the wife? We are committing to that, are we?" Davos tried to pull him into another hug, and Aeron stopped him with a palm to his chin, shoving his face back. This fool. Pay attention. "Don't bully your wife." 

"Stay on topic," Aeron reproached. 

Davos leaned back. His face had grown serious. "It is an oversight of mine, that I had not considered this is something you would want." 

Aeron made a little hmph. 

"Of course I will accept your invitation," Davos said. "You only surprised me. That is all." 

Aeron conceded this was fair and let it go with a nod. "Good." 

"That does beg another question," Davos continued, staring off into the distance gravely. 

Aeron asked, "Which question?" 

Davos flicked his eyes back to his. "Which wedding ceremony should we have?" 

...oh, yes. He did make a fine point. 

It wasn't something Aeron thought of before, but if Blackwoods worshipped the old gods and had some other holidays, why wouldn't they have a different wedding ceremony? Of course it wouldn't take place in a sept. 

Presumably, this was something he would learn in his histories lessons sooner than later, but it hadn't come up yet. He should look into it. 

"I presumed it would be according to the tradition of my forebears, as your Faith has some... issues with boys marrying boys," Davos added. 

Aeron was silent for a while as he mulled this over. It was already decided they would be married some day, but no one had brought up this issue. 

"If the septons take issue when the time comes, I am fine with your style of wedding," he decided. "If they do not, we could always have two weddings. Two weddings would be better." 

To keep their families from fighting each other! 

Yes, two weddings sounded great. 

One group of guests at one wedding and the other group of guests at the other. No problem. 

Davos covered his mouth with a hand and made a strange noise, eyes squeezing shut. 

"...what are you doing?" Aeron asked. 

"My husband cannot say such things so lightly. It makes me so happy, my heart could burst open," Davos answered. 

Any concern Aeron had evaporated. He let out a sigh. 

So dramatic. 

...he did not mind it. 

"Stop calling me that. We are not wed yet," Aeron reminded him. 

"I am surprised your family would allow such an invitation," Davos said, draping an arm around his shoulder and leaning his face into his hair. 

Hm? Oh. "My lady mother said she would handle it." 

"Remind me to extend my sincere gratitude to your lady mother," was murmured into his hair. 

Aeron shrugged, pleased that Davos was choosing to thank Mother. "Mn." 

He could do that. 

"Two weddings..." Davos sighed. It was far from an unhappy sigh. "Everyone would know you are mine then." 

Aeron only rolled his eyes. And they didn't already? This was the talk of both territories. Stupid. How much more public could it get? 

"Boys, come take a break from playing and eat!" 

They broke apart from each other and hurried to head back to where their mothers were waiting. Lunch!