summary: in which your son makes it an effort to wake you and your husband, after he made a promise intended to keep.
pairing: baelor targaryen x wife!reader, valarr targaryen / mother!reader
warning(s): pregnancy, just sweetness
a/n: this was heavily inspired from this beautiful artwork I came across on tiktok, so all credits go to them! and ofc the scene from the lion king 💗
You had never known peace like it.
Not truly, not since the lilting summers and sweetness of adventure had taken over you when you were once a girl. Duty and sacrifice they had called it, through every moon that passed around you, the realm brought new dangers, new battle and wagers, and those of your own.
Though your husband stood tall beside you through all of it. He did not stray, not recluse, even in the times distance became more than either of you could take, as heir it had been known. But as your husband, as a father, he prevailed. And without having to say it, put none else above you, even though he reclaimed it to you nightly.
It was an unfamiliar feeling to have time to yourself, to bask in the morning and take in its splendours. With no maids, nor fancy dress or fussing, just the welcoming warmth of your shared bed. Baelor pressed up behind you, his chest was heated with the light hairs tickling at your back as his hand splayed around the growing curve of your stomach soothingly.
Three more moons left of your pregnancy and the babe inside of you felt as if it was already trying to claw its way out. Eager, valiant, much like someone else you knew. And it had left you in many a restless night, yet by some of the Gods’ graces, and your husbands touch, you were able to sleep well into the late morning, with the sun beginning to sun fight its way through the darkened curtains.
The rise and fall of Baelor’s chest against your back grounded you as you stirred, falling back into a lighter sleep, your face tucked delicately just beneath the sheets. He had taken it in as well, with new alliances formed in The Reach and trades made with Dornishmen, it had given his father, the King, a newfound distraction, settling the kingdom, and giving too, your husband some respite. And though duty remained, it allowed him little more time with you than usual, and he was not going to let it pass.
The scratch of his beard prickled the inside of your neck, warm breath dragging you deeper as neither of you dared to move, relishing in what was soon to be afternoon. You had stayed there for no one knows how long, until such peace was disrupted with an unexpected presence.
A bundle of small hands and feet had made their way onto your bed, fighting their way up the height of it and crawling rather disgracefully over the plume of sheets. You had felt the dip in the mattress before you could raise your head, lidded eyes peeking a mess of brown hair that shot past your vision. You shut your eyes tightly after that, still consumed by a sleepy blur as a small devious smile crept its way onto your face. There could only be one.
The limbs moving carefully over your legs and hopped onto the other side of the bed, directly headed for your husband.
Mere seconds had passed until noise came, a huff eliciting from Baelor’s mouth as he was struck by a small fist pressing into his back.
“Papa.. papa.” Valarr’s small voice called from over his father’s back. Baelor hummed in response, his arm that rested over your stomach wrapping tighter around you, pulling you in. As if to pretend he did not hear the very insistent voice of your son. You all but rocked your head onto the plush pillow, snuggling back into the strength of his hand, but that was not all.
“Papa.. wake up.” The boy moved over to his head, calling endlessly, directly into his ear.
“Father, father, father, papa..”
“Your son is awake..” You mumbled lightly, hair mussed as it blew out of your face from where it fell, and Baelor’s nose twitched.
“Before sunrise, he is your son..” He replied, voice deep and ragged from sleep, not even tempting to open an eye as he whispered, Valarr starting to hammer at his back.
“And it seems dawn has already broken..” You called back, smirking lightly, taking in the light even through closed eyelids.
Baelor opened an eye then, a darkened brown hue looking at the room now, lo and behold, lightened by the sun’s morning glow. He rolled his head back onto the pillow beside you, reaching his other arm around the boy at his back, tucking him in between you both.
“Valarr.. you have been told not to be up at such hours.” He scolded lightly, closing his eyes once more in attempt to get him to settle.
The boy huffed, rolling to lay between you in a tangle, his little face moving to look at his father.
“But you promised..” He reasoned with his arms crossed, that familiar silver streak a contrast to the rest of his head, meeting your gaze as you turned up onto your side.
Sleep was to be no more, you had come to terms with that, though your husband did not. Yet.
“Mhm..”. Baelor curled around him, nodding absentmindedly where rest threatened to consume him. And your son, all but five and with the same temper and impatience that his father would tease, reminded him much of his youngest brother. He had rubbed tiny hands over his face in attempt to wake him up, the greying strands meeting his small fingers as he tugged.
You giggled as he groaned, stroking your hand through the boys hair, “Come valarr, your father needs rest.”
“But he..” He argued, pleading eyes flicking back to you, though softening with tour touch.
“No buts, my love. He is..”
“He is right.. I did make promise.” Baelor told you, speaking on behalf of them both tenderly.
“And what would that promise be..?” You raised an eyebrow, resting on your elbow, as both mismatched eyes followed you. A curiosity taking hold of you as you smiled softly at them, the very imagine of the other.
“‘Tis a secret.” Valarr grinned, sitting up onto his knees between you both, moving to tug at Baelor’s arm, watching over you both, his palm still braced over you delicately.
“Oh is it now.” You inquired, laughing lightly as the bed dipped again. This time with Baelor’s weight, as rose up with your son still curled tightly around his arm. His hand moved to cup your face as he met you in the middle, giving a silent nod.
“Then I suppose you better had going, the day grows late,” You nodded back, matching him through your smile as you rested your hand into his warm, calloused palm, stroking Valarr’s cheek as you leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead, “Your boots are beside the steps.” You urged him on, and he tumbled out in an instant, small feet pattering onto the cool floor.
“Thank you mama..” He made a short stop, turning back as he began to cross the space of your chambers, reaching over the edge of the bed to press a light kiss to your belly through the sheets. Running off again as he mumbled something for his little sibling..
Your gaze watched on from across the room as he ducked beside the dressing table, a trail of shoes kept at your sides for such moments. Baelor moved his arm back around you, the bed curling around his middle as he rose over you from behind, “Such peace..” He remarked with playful sarcasm as his lips pressed to yours with a smile.
“Such peace indeed..” You echoed back, taking in the warmth of his mouth, kissing him back as he rubbed his nose against yours, thumb stroking over your belly lovingly.
“Papa..” Valarr called once more, the pair of you looking up to see him stood, haphazardly dressed in the black of his small doublet, boots laces undone but proudly standing and waiting.
“It seems you are being called upon..” You chuckled as he huffed, nuzzling into the side of his face.
“So it seems..” Baelor pressed one last kiss to your lips, cradling your head and taking you in for a moment, even in that sleepiness that only fatherhood could bring, that ever passionate glint shone in his gaze, observing. He slid from the bed in loose breeches throwing over his cotton undershirt, and hushing your son as his impatience grew.
As he laced and buttoned the threads of his doublet, picking up the black and crimson colours from the armchair, he leaned down over you, pressing a last kiss to your stomach, to your babe.
“I shall be back..” He assured you with a pure affectionate expression, offering a small smile through weary eyes.
He wasn’t as perfectly proportioned as always, the collar slightly askew with the laces of his trousers wrinkled, shorter hairs slightly mussed still, but it was enough. Not that the boy pawing at his legs cared, Baelor’s arms moving down to pick him up gently, rocking him into his chest.
“Are you ready my boy..?” He perched Valarr onto his middle, a smile etching his features as his ringed fingers ruffled through his streaked hair.
“Let’s go..” He called back excitedly, kicking his boots in his father’s arms, and they made it all but few strides toward the door.
A maid, red faced and flushed ran to the doorway, standing before them as she stopped herself, nearly colliding with them both.. “I’am sorry, my prince, I tried to..” The woman called, gesturing at your son, and you stifled a laugh, watching the scene from the bed.
He merely waved a hand, already at an understanding with his antics. Seemingly one that had led your son to slip from his maids hands and sneak into your chambers before it was time to, such a surprise. He gave her a gentle smile, a courteous one.
“It is alright.. if anything, I do apologise. Me and my son have matters to attend to, together.” Valarr laid a head to his father’s shoulder, as if butter wouldn’t melt in that innocent face, and they walked together, the maid curtsying before dismissing herself out of the door. She closed it behind them, continuing her duties as you fell back into the bed, the distant echo of giggles filling the halls.
——
The day was brighter from the courtyard, red stone balconies looming over the city below, dots of faces passing down every street. And as it had showed much promise, Baelor had stuck to his own.
Days before he had sworn he and Valarr would have time to take the day together, look out over the city, and take to the courtyard as a young knight should. As he claimed his father before him had done, and ever the admirer of his father, Valarr did not let him let it go.
Baelor had stood at the very edge of the balustrade, hands braced onto the carved stone as he tapped his fingers, Valarr only meeting his knees through the small gaps in the pillars. His head raised over it by an inch, smaller hands mirroring his father as he watched on, taking in the view.
Albeit be looked out beyond it, past the distance of the Old Gate, and the deeper darkness of Flea Bottom to the far reaches of the countryside on the city’s outskirts. It was a steady reminder, one that Baelor had taught him in even in his young age. That he rules it, as he would after his father, and as Valarr would after him. But the crown’s weight was not to befall a man’s goodness, his humanity, and that as ruler, all subjects and all that he could see should be taken care of.
“So this is all ours..” Sweet and curious was Valarr’s voice as he called out, eyes filled with wonder as he looked beyond all negativity. He saw no dirtiness, no violence, no duty, only the an endless expanse. And he took in the great shape of it all, Baelor’s gaze flicking down to him as he huffed a laugh.
“In a sense, though we do not own it.. we simply take care of it as a matter of fact.” Baelor’s voice trailed off as he watched his sons’s eyes wander, looking back up at him with wide eyes, ones that did not yet entirely understand. And he retracted, scooting closer to him in a single step, leaning down just enough.
“For now it is my father’s, your grandsire’s, and once his time has come, this place shall be passed to me..” He reasoned more simply.
“Then who shall be next?” He spoke before he could finish, lips curving intently as he rocked on his little heel.
“Well, it will be handed to you, for you to protect and watch over..” He replied proudly, resting a hand onto his shoulder, covering it entirely with only half of his palm.
“I will be King..?” Valarr questioned, mouth agape in surprise.
“Yes, one day..” Baelor nodded.
“But I do not want it to be so yet, I don’t want your time to end.” Valarr’s face fell, taking in the words before him, though time was still a mere thought to him.
“Well that shall not happen for a long time..“ He noticed the change from a sharp wonder turned to worry, ducking at the boy’s side, knees bending to his height.
“I will not let it be so, nor so much as I can help it. But when it is your time, I know you shall make one to be proud of. Just and honourable..” He reasoned, proclaiming every truth he had meant.
“Like you?” Valarr raised his head at that, the smile creeping onto his face with an excitement.
“I can only hope to be.” He curled the boy back into his side, picking him up as he did before, taking one last look together over the expanse of the time to come. “And even when my time is done, now I shall be within right here. Always, with you.”
Two future kings took in their kingdom, from the thatched houses and steeples to the greenery beyond, and a father and son embraced against all the odds against them.
“Perhaps we shall go back to your mother. I believe she needs some distracting from the weight of the babe.” Baelor turned with his son in his grip, nudging him softly as they walked back through the courtyard and up the steps to the castle. He had changed the subject, letting his final words linger in the air, the boy blissfully unaware though they settled all the same, as they would for always.
“My sibling is a terror.” Valarr shook his head, placing his hand into his father’s shoulders, toying with the fabric.
“Much like you.” He poked a finger into his little chest, the boy giggling in response.
And they set out to find you, no doubt still where they had left you, curled into your side taking in the rest of the day as it greeted you. And as they strode through the halls of the keep, through the same corridors he had grown up in, Baelor took in the sights, not just as heir, or as a Prince, but through his sons eyes.
And with every painting, every tapestry, and every passing face of squire and guard, every step closer toward you with his legacy and love in his arms, he saw a flicker of the ages to come, and with it,
“I dreamed of you,” said the prince. “You said that at the inn.” “Did I? Well, it’s so. My dreams are not like yours, Ser Duncan. Mine are true. They frighten me. You frighten me. I dreamed of you and a dead dragon, you see. A great beast, huge, with wings so large they could cover this meadow. It had fallen on top of you, but you were alive and the dragon was dead.” “Did I kill it?” “That I could not say, but you were there, and so was the dragon."
M'lords! I know none of you remember Ser Arlan of Pennytree. But I was his squire. We served many of you. Ate at your tables. Slept in your halls. He was a good man. And he taught me how to be a knight. Not just sword and lance, but honor. A knight defends the innocent. That's-- that's all I did. I was not Ser Arlan's blood, but I have followed his example. As your sons will follow yours. Who will stand and fight with me?
I think I am officially Fandom Old. I am so worn out from the arguments on who's the top or the bottom (who cares), what is allowed to be written (anything you want, bejeebus), what is Problematic (I know, just tag it), what other people Should Do (they Should live their lives free of judgment). There isn't a Right Way to do things. Tag your stuff appropriately, don't read stuff you don't want to read, and leave other people (me) alone.
There is nothing quite like the freedom of having gone through all of the Discourse and come out the other side into the promised land of Not Giving A Fuck.
damn i wish u guys could read this fic i haven't written and this fic i haven't finished writing and this fic i'm putting off outlining and this fic i outlined but haven't started and this fic i'll never write and this other fic i haven't written and this fic that exists only in vague impressions in my head that fall apart every time i try to commit them to the page and th
fix-it: Baelor survives the tournament but suffers a neurological injury that temporarily affects his fine motor control, making it difficult for him to use his hands normally, Maekar takes care of him during his recovery
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