Ōdrikagon

Chapter II

{Iā tresy iksis mazverdāre}
{A son is growing}

𖤍 105AC - Runestone 𖤍

"I don't understand, what do you mean the candle didn't burn him?" Questioned the Lady of Runestone as she glanced between Maester Melvan and her child.

"Ser Croll came to my study, said that Rolan had an incident. I assumed that the boy had managed to eat soap again, but..." The elderly man trailed off, staring at the child. Rolan was seated on some pillows in the nursery, waving around a wooden knight that was painted in likeness of a Vale Knight, as if nothing had happened.

"When I got here the wetnurse said that Rolan grabbed a burning candle, from the way she looked, he must have tried to grab the flame," Rhea glanced over at the broken candle on the floor. "Only when I examined his hands, I couldn't find any burns or any damage to his body."

The adults turned quiet and stared at the infant, who was babbling excitedly. He was holding up his toys, presenting them to the two adults and clearly trying to tell them about the knights as he babbled animatedly.

"You're saying that my child can't be harmed by flames?"

"We cannot say for certain, my lady. I have never heard of anything like this, nor will I find anything like this in any of the books in my study." Said Melvan, staring at the ignorant child.

They then witnessed Rolan pulling off his sock and stuffing it into his mouth, making them both sigh in exasperation. They then proceeded to watch him pull the sock out of his mouth. The fabric was soaked in slobber and was flung into a corner.

Both adults watched the fabric land with a wet thud, but then when they looked back at Rolan, the infant was no longer on the pillows he had been placed on. The infant had made a break for the roaring fireplace while his mother and soon to be mentor were distracted.

Rhea's breath halted in her throat as her child grabbed one of the burning coals and held it up to the adults proudly with a big grin, his growing teeth displayed. Promptly the elderly man passed out.

"Bye-bye?" Rolan babbled as he pointed at the unconscious maester. His mother didn't acknowledge his babble and was pointedly staring at the glowing coal still grasped in his tiny hand.

"Rolan..." Rhea spoke softly, making Rolan let out a confused noise, not knowing why she was speaking so softly. The woman normally spoke in a strong and self assured tone, and definitely not in this way. "Will you put that on the ground for me?"

The Targaryen boy blinked slowly and gently placed the coal on the stone floor, wiping his dirty hand on his tiny tunic. His tunic now having a black stain that would likely never wash out.

The boy remained seated next to the fireplace and close to the still glowing coal, waiting for something to happen. Usually when he ate the bugs or soap, or knocked over cups, or pulled on the hair of the wetnurse, he would be scolded. Scolded in the sense of he would be yelled at and sat in the corner without toys for an uncertain amount of time.

"Do you know who I am?" The woman questioned, her voice still unusually soft and silently trembly. Rolan stared at her silently for moment before answering. "You're my mother?"

The Targaryen's voice was so uncertain that it made the woman's head lower in shame. She had failed her son more than she thought, she missed the first time he spoke and the first time he caused mischief.

"Yes, I am your mother." The room was painfully quiet, the little boy kept playing the the strings of his tunic, looking between his mother and the fireplace that occasionally crackled and popped.