The gardens of Ashford Castle are a rare sanctuary from the dust of the lists. Baelor walks at your side, his pace slow and deliberate to match your own, his hands clasped loosely behind the small of his back. He wears a doublet of heavy black silk, rather simple, with the symbol of the Hand attached to his tunic.

Maekar has been gone since first light, leading a frantic sweep of the surrounding woods and villages for any sign of his missing sons. In his absence, Baelor has taken up his brother’s charge with a grace that is as steady as a calm sun to Maekar’s storm.

"My brother was quite clear in his instructions.” Baelor says, his voice a smooth, rich baritone that carries a hint of an amused smile. He pauses by a stone bench, offering you his arm with the effortless grace that has made him the darling of the Seven Kingdoms. "I am to ensure the sun does not burn you, the wind does not chill you, and that you do not take a single step more than is strictly necessary."

He glances down at your stomach, his expression softening into something genuinely kind, almost nostalgic.