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When Maron asked where Daenerys was, “climbing a tree” was not the answer he expected. For all that she sometimes reminded him of a bird, light-boned and quick, she did not spend much time outdoors at all, much less in trees. At first he assumed it was simply because of the angry sunburns she would get in the Dornish sun, but as time passed he realized she just enjoyed being indoors with a book or her sewing or her harp, and even sometimes talking with him as she went about her pursuits.
All the more curious, then, why she decided to go up a bloody tree.
Maron set out through the palace of Sunspear, nodding at his lords and household as they greeted him. Even after all this time it felt strange to receive the respect that, in his heart of hearts, he felt still belonged to Myriah. He shook his head at the thought as he rounded the corner and ducked down a narrow corridor – what’s done is done, and here you are.
And here she was. The tree stood in a small garden tucked between one of the high towers and the palace wall, nestled in a corner that gave it plenty of sun while also letting it catch the rare rains as they skidded off the tower roof. Daenerys had actually managed to get impressively high in the tree, standing precariously with one foot on a slender branch and the other in the air behind her for balance. From the ground he watched her stretch out and pluck a blood orange, one of the last of the season, and he heard her huff of satisfaction as it came away in her hand. He chuckled a bit at the sound, and only then did she notice him.
“Forgive me, my prince, I’ll be down in a moment,” she called out. The orange went into the pocket of her skirt while she started to carefully climb down.
“There’s nothing to forgive, my princess,” he said. They had yet to shake the formality between them, even after months of marriage. Trying to gentle his tone, he added, “If you wanted a blood orange, you could have requested one, as well.”
Apparently he had focused too much on the tone and not enough on the words, because she fixed him with a cool, blank expression as she hopped onto the ground. “I preferred to fetch it myself, my prince.”
Oh, for the gods’ sake, he wasn’t trying to chide her. Arrogant dragonling, he thought uncharitably, but that was another thought that wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He took a deep breath. “I didn’t know you liked blood oranges,” he said, trying to sound lighthearted.
That seemed to work better, for she gave him a quick smile. “I didn’t know I did either. I just…wanted one very badly all of a sudden.” Her eyes widened, and she focused closely on peeling her orange.
“I didn’t know you climbed trees, either,” he said after a moment of silence.
“I do. My brothers and sisters and I would all go out to this cove on the Blackwater, and when we grew tired of swimming we’d dare each other to climb higher and higher in the trees. I always climbed higher than anyone else, and I never fell,” she said proudly.
“You enjoy swimming, too?” he asked.
Her smile softened then, grew more wistful. “That too. I was never brave enough to face the currents on the river, but the cove had little inlets where we would splash each other, or play games, or lie on our backs and float.”
He found himself smiling more and more broadly as she spoke. “It sounds lovely,” he said, trying to imagine his wife terrorizing other blonde children in the shade of the trees.
"It was," she agreed. She shook her head, and the faraway look left her eyes, replaced by a kind of brightness. "What about you?"
"What about me?" He barely caught himself from wincing at his own words, and rushed to add, "Well, we do have the sea nearby, and we went swimming sometimes, Myriah and I. More often, though, we raced horses. The faster and wilder, the better. That's how I broke my nose, actually," he said, shaking his head ruefully.
Daenerys laughed, a surprisingly deep sound for someone with as high a voice as she had. He wished he could hear that laugh more often. Then she stood on her tiptoes and touched his nose lightly, stroking over the bump in the middle. Somehow, even though they'd touched far, far more intimately than that before, her cool and slightly sticky fingers on his face made him feel warm inside.
"No worse for wear, it looks like," she said.
"No," he said, "not at all."
Another silence enveloped them, but it was a sweeter silence, friendlier than before. Daenerys only had two pieces of her orange left, and she offered Maron one as they watched the sun beginning to set over the palace walls.
As loath as Maron was to break the peaceful quiet, he really thought they should be headed back. Before he could speak, however, Daenerys said, "Maron, wait."
He turned to her and nodded in acknowledgment. She wiped her hands on her skirt, took a deep breath, and said, "Maron, I'm not sure, but-but I think there may have been a reason I wanted the orange so badly." She paused. "I couldn't stop eating honey a few days ago either, and there's all sorts of smells that I'm noticing now that I never did before, and I just want to go to bed after noon every day, and, and...and my moonblood is a couple of days late," she said. Her hands went clasped behind her back, and she had bent her head and was only looking up at him from below her eyelashes. She seemed to be holding her breath.
"...you're with child?" he said, blinking. Gods. Gods.
"I might be. I'm not sure yet, but..." She shook her head and waved a hand, and there wasn't really much more to say, anyway. Immediately he pulled her into a hug, and as he rested his chin on the top of her head he could feel her grinning against his chest. The lightness and warmth she'd given him earlier spread all through him, making him feel so light that he almost thought he needed to hold her tight or he'd float away.
Of course, just as he was starting to settle into the glow of the moment, another thought struck him.
“You’re with child, and you still decided to climb a tree?”
“I told you I don’t fall,” she said sullenly, pushing away from him. There were a good few years between them, Maron knew, but never before had she sounded so childish. “And I also told you that I’m not sure about the child.”
“But if you are – “
“Believe me, my prince,” she said in a voice like iron, “I’m aware of my duty, and I would never endanger your heir.”
“My heir – gods, Daenerys, is that all you think I care about? Don’t you think I’m scared of how badly that would hurt you?” They still stood close to each other, and Maron would have caught her shoulders in his hands if he didn’t think she’d push him away. Her eyes bore into him, a deep violet that seemed to have red tones when she was angry and blue when she smiled. Sometimes he thought he could spend hours trying to describe her eyes and never come close.
Now, though, she blinked a few times and shut them as she leaned against his chest again. "I know you care about me, Maron," she said. "I know you're good, and you're good to me." Her voice was barely more than a murmur, but he heard it clearly. He wondered if she was thinking of her own mother, who had lost so many children, or of her father, who from what he understood hadn't seemed to care.
"And I love you," he added. They had said it to each other before, but not much, and each time was something fragile and precious to him.
She laughed gently, still with her face buried in his chest. "And you love me. And I love you too."
They stayed like that for a few more moments, not speaking. The sun had dipped below the sight of the walls, and the stars were beginning to take their places overhead.
"I was thinking," he said. She looked up at him, and her eyes shone in the starlight.
"Thinking about what?"
He weighed his words carefully. "There's a place three leagues from here, by the sea. The breezes keep it cool, and it gets plenty of sunshine. With...everything...more settled," he said, and he knew she didn't have to be reminded of the everything that had passed between his family and hers, "I thought it would be a good place for a palace."
Her brow furrowed. "You wish to build a palace to give to your child?"
"Our child," he said firmly. "My blood and yours. And while the child will have the palace when we've both passed on, I wanted it to be a place for you. We can have pools to splash in and as many trees to climb as you want. Anything you want, and it'll be yours."
She was silent, and he worried that he'd somehow done wrong when she said, "Well then, I better help you start planting trees," and leaned up to kiss him.