#kinda too comedic relief but hope its fine haha

[lullaebies]

Prompt (to cheer you up 💖💚)

Maelor is an artist like his mom (my headcannon is that she sketches all bugs in her big book of bugs).

Anyways, aegon was late to rise one morning so Maelor scribbles a moustache on his face (he had shaved it off the previous day and Maelor didn't like it) and aegon didn't wash his face that morning and wonders why everyone stares at him.

awww!! no worries angst is my shit i love writing it and crying about it but i appreciate this very much!

The blinks across the tables are disconcerting.

He has come to break his fast late, he is aware, by both the empty plates across the table and the stares shot at him from those all around him. He heard some giggles when he walked the hallways, but now even Mother stares at him brazenly, looking like she had just seen some ghost. "Is there something on my face?"

"Well..." Helaena trails off, her violets finally leaving his face as she looks down at her plate, lining her lips together as if preventing words from escaping.

"You have... a moustache," Aemond says aloud. Aegon lifts his eyebrows and twists his lips at that. Maelor giggles loudly at that, clapping his small hands, while the twins hold puffs of laughter in their own chubby cheeks. "I shaved it yesterday, you twat," he tells him in annoyance. There is no way it grew back so soon; he has been lucky to have his moustache grow within a patient month beforehand. "It's not a matter of shaving, certainly." Aemond retorts, slicing his food. Aegon takes up in his hand a silver, reflective cup that stood on the table, and brings it by his face to see. There is a splotch of ink spread above his cupid's bow, the dark color contrasting in a way so disgustingly ugly that he can't help but frown at it. "What is this?!" he asks. He didn't even touch a pen yesterday, how did this happen. He narrows his eyes as he looks all around the table. "Which one of you did this?" He looks at Helaena, for but a moment; she dabbles in her ink, but she looks quite innocent today. Before long, however, the culprit is revealed. By his own choice, too. Maelor lifts up his hand high, proud as can be. Aegon looks at his three-year-old dead in the eye, as he beams at him. He can't even bring himself to be mad; the boy seems far too happy to rain on his parade. The rest of the table falls into chuckles, and then hears Helaena's mumble. "He always did like your moustache."

Seven hells. Aegon comes by the boy, and holds him up. "Don't do that," he tells him. Maelor tries to reach his little drawing; even as he touches it, it does not quite feel the same, and it's apparent on his face. "But..." Maelor says, as he always does; his first word seemed to be but, both curious and defiant. Now, it's in request.

Aegon sighs, and brings him against his chest. "I'll grow it back," he says. "Promise." Maelor giggles cheerily at that. "I wonder if it'll wash off," Helaena says then. "We only had long-lasting ink in our rooms.." Seven hells!