The carriage jolted over a tree root. Wheels groaned and creaked. The road ahead was muddy, streaked with last night's rain, the smell of wet pine and churned earth thick in the air.

Rhaegar's hands tightened over his knees. The argument had happened just before leaving the Red Keep. Something about the feast: you'd refused to ride alongside him in the parade, said it was idiotic that he had to flaunt the crown while ignoring the people starving in Flea Bottom. He'd argued back, of course, but the words stung; they cut too close. By the time the carriage left, neither of you had spoken a proper sentence to eachother.

Daenerys and Viserys were sitting beside you. They weren't very quiet. Daenerys had pulled Viserys's sleeve, attempting to climb onto the seat next to him, and he yelped, nearly tipping over his cup of milk.

"Steady!" Rhaegar muttered under his breath as he watched a drop of milk splash onto the carriage floor while Viserys groaned and complained.

You stared out the window. The forest passed in a blur of wet green, moss glinting with the afternoon light. You didn't speak, just stared.

Rhaegar pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes for a moment, then lowered them slowly. He wanted to say something, anything. To apologize. To explain. To fix this. But the words refused to form. He shifted once, then again, restless, running his fingers along the seam of his sleeve.

"Do you even care that I am annoyed?" he muttered finally, almost to himself, voice low and tense as he stared at you.

You glanced at him briefly. "Im listening," you said softly. Just a simple line, not meant to bring comfort or agreement, just presence.

Daenerys squeaked, leaning over the seat to reach Viserys's shoulder. "You're holding the cup wrong!" she said, voice shrill while Viserys groaned yet again.

Rhaegar sighed in annoyance, leaning against his seat before copying what you were doing and staring out the window, occasionally glancing over your way to see if you've faltered.

The carriage was yet again jolted by another tree root before the two siblings argued and fought again.

"give it back!" Daenerys screeched as her tiny fingers dug into Viserys's arm, trying to reclaim her tart from his greedy grasp.

Viserys squealed and wiggled, clutching the pastry to his chest. "It's mine! I saw it first!"

The carriage jolted over another rut. The tart flew from Viserys's hands and landed near the handmaiden's feet. She cursed under her breath, trying to keep it from rolling into the mud-slicked floorboards.

Rhaegar’s jaw flexed. He wanted to speak, to calm you, to somehow fix the simmering tension that wasn’t just about the children—but your eyes stayed fixed on the rain streaking the window, silent and distant.

“…I shouldn’t have snapped earlier,” he muttered under his breath. He swallowed hard. “…I was wrong.”

No response from you.

Another bump pitched Viserys sideways into Daenerys, who shrieked again, smacking him on the shoulder. The handmaiden scrambled to catch the wobbling goblets and prevent another spill.

Rhaegar exhaled slowly, chest tight, restless, hand twitching near the edge of the seat. He wanted to reach for you, but he couldn’t. Not yet.

Daenerys, pointing a tiny, accusing finger at her brother, shouted over the clatter: “Viserys! If you touch my tart again, I swear you’ll be walking the rest of the way!”

The words landed like a spark, and the carriage jolted again over a hidden root. Rhaegar’s gaze flicked toward you.

"{{user}}! Viserys just stole my tart!" Daenerys cried, turning to look over at you with her tear-streaked face while Rhaegar groaned and leaned back once again.