Sinopsis: During the princessās sixth moon of pregnancy, the maesters assure the royal couple that everything is progressing well. Yet Prince Valarr begins to experience the same cravings and restless nights as his wife. As their evenings fill with bread, fruit, and quiet laughter, the prince seeks an explanation for what is happening to himāonly to discover that the answer is far simpler than he imagined.
Warnings: Pregnancy, Domestic intimacy, Fluff
WC: 3,300 words approx.
The maestersā eyes were on you. The oldest one, his hands trembling but gentle, pressed here and there against your belly while the younger ones wrote everything down on their parchments. You had entered your sixth moon and it already showed; your body had changed. That curve that had once barely been a whisper was now a round, firm swell beneath the loose linen dress you had chosen that morning because of the heat beginning to settle over the Red Keep.
It was your first pregnancy, the first for the royal house on that branch, so old King Daeron, from his sickbed, had smiled when he heard the news weeks before. But the one who celebrated it most was your husband, Valarr. The prince with the easy smile and dark hair, the one who carried that silver streak inherited from his father, stood at the back of the chamber, leaning against a low table, and not exactly to give orders.
He was nibbling on a chocolate cake. But not just any cake. Someone in the kitchens had added vanilla oil, and the contrast was strange for a prince raised on precise dishes, exact measures, flavors he already knew by heart. Valarr was not a man who sought novelty in food; he preferred what was safe, what was familiar. And yet there he was, his fingertips sticky and a half-bitten piece in hand, glancing sideways at the maester examining you. His eyes moved from the old manās hands to your face, searching for some grimace of pain, some sign that something was wrong. His nerves were so obvious that you had to press your lips together to keep from laughing. The maesters did not look at him, but you did. And seeing him like that, with that mixture of anxiety and chocolate at the corner of his mouth, filled your chest with something warm.
āEverything indicates that you are well, princess,ā said the senior maester, withdrawing his hands carefully. āThe child moves a great deal. More than I have seen in other wombs at this age. Very lively, perhaps.ā He offered a tired smile and you nodded, feeling at that very moment a soft flutter inside, like the wings of a bird trapped there.
āThe dizziness seems to have stopped entirely, yes?ā the maester asked, raising an eyebrow above his reading lenses.
āYes, thanks to the gods,ā you replied, running a hand over your belly. āIt has been a moon since I last felt it. But now the cravings have begun. Last night I asked the kitchen for figs in syrup, and I do not even like figs that much.ā You smiled, as if apologizing for the silly craving.
The maester nodded with understanding. āIt is normal. As long as there are no fevers or strong pains, the best thing is that you rest. Walk, yes, but little. A short stroll through the gardens, nothing more. No climbing long staircases; the effort is not good. And if you notice any bleeding or a discomfort that does not seem normal, send for me at once. I will be attentive.ā
You nodded, and Valarr, from his corner, set the cake aside unfinished and straightened slightly, as though until then he had not wished to interfere.
āSo everything is well?ā he asked. His voice sounded higher than usual, like that of a boy asking if he may go down to the courtyard to play.
āEverything is well, my prince,ā said the maester, inclining his head as he gathered his things. āNow, if you will excuse me, I shall retire to my chambers. May the gods bless you both, and the little one.ā
When the door closed behind the maesters and the servants who had come with them, you rose slowly from the bed. Valarr approached at once. His shirt was slightly wrinkled, as though he had spent hours unable to keep still, and at the corner of his lips there was still a dark smudge of chocolate. When he saw you so close he blushed. He wiped his mouth in haste with the back of his hand, smearing it more than cleaning it.
āDid you not have breakfast this morning?ā you asked, unable to keep your voice from trembling with the laughter you held back.
āOf course I had breakfast,ā he said, almost offended. āBut I passed through the kitchen and something told me that mixture would taste good. And it tastes spectacular. Look.ā He held out the plate to you, where half the cake still remained. The crumb was dark and moist, and the scent of vanilla mixed with the cocoa in a way that, truth be told, smelled quite good.
āSo it seems,ā you said, though you did not take a bite. It did not call to you yet.
Valarr set the plate on a small table and stood before you. Carefully, as if you were made of glass, he placed one hand upon your belly. His warm palm rested against the fabric of your dress and almost immediately he felt a little push, firm and sudden, just beneath his fingers. His eyes opened wide.
āDo you see?ā he said triumphantly, with a smile stretching from ear to ear. āThe baby agrees with me. He also thinks you should not have gone alone to the chapel this morning. Climbing stairs and kneeling in your conditionā¦ it is too much.ā
You placed your hand over his and, as if the little one had felt the change in warmth, there came another movement, softer, like the stretch of tiny legs.
āDo you see?ā you said, imitating his tone. āThe baby agrees with me. It was necessary to pray for his health. And yours as well. One does not pray every day for a father who chokes on strange cakes.ā
Valarr frowned, though without anger, only with that expression he made when he wished to appear serious and could not.
āIt seems he will give the right to each of us when it suits him. That offends me. He wishes to be the favorite of us both and choose no side.ā He lowered his voice almost to a whisper, directing it toward your belly. āAnd your father does not like that.ā
You laughed, a clear laugh that filled the chamber and made the baby move again, as if wishing to join the celebration.
When the moon took the place of the sun, you opened the curtains wide so the cool night air could enter the chamber. The heat of the day had gone, leaving only a soft breeze that stirred the edges of the sheets. Valarr had gone to train in the morning and afterward had left with his father for some matter of the realm you did not know, so you knew he would take time to return.
You sat beside the window with a sewing basket at your feet and began to embroider. It was a small baby garment, soft and cream-colored, neither blue nor pink, because no one would know until the end whether it would be a boy or a girl, and you liked to think it did not matter. The needle slipped slowly in and out of the fabric, forming tiny flowers along the sleeves. You smiled when you saw the progress. It was little, yes, but it was yours, made with your hands for the small life growing inside you.
You had been like that for some time, stitch after stitch, when a noise at the door stirred you from your quiet reverie. Valarr entered carrying an enormous tray, the sort servants used at banquets, piled with things: red berries in a silver bowl, a round golden loaf of bread, a small dish of oil and another with thick cream, red and green apples, and several small pastries you did not recognize, dusted with powdered sugar.
You looked at him in surprise. His hair was disheveled, his shirt stained with dirt from the road, and his eyes shone like those of a child who had just found a treasure.
āMy love, is it not very late to be eating?ā you asked, rising carefully from your seat. You placed a hand on your belly, as you always did when standing, as though to be sure the baby came with you.
Valarr set the tray on the small table and turned toward you.
āYes, but for you there is no schedule,ā he said, and his eyes rested on your belly for a moment before lifting to your face. āYou said you had been craving meat. Look, it is good meat, the kind they brought today from the kingās lands.ā
He already had a bite of meat in his mouth as he spoke, chewing in haste, and you tilted your head, curious. There was something in the way he acted, in that urgency, that seemed strange to you, but you said nothing. You sat with him at the table, in the chair beside his.
Valarr took the bread, broke it with his hands, spread butter, then cream, and laid strips of meat on top. He gave it to you, still warm between his fingers, and watched you.
āEat, my dear,ā he said.
You held the bread without bringing it to your mouth yet.
āAnd you?ā you asked.
He shook his head. āNo, no, not me. I will only watch you. You are the one with cravings. I onlyā¦ I only wanted to bring you this.ā
You nodded and took a bite. The meat was juicy, the bread soft, the cream fresh. But his eyes said something else. There was something behind that look, a desire he did not confess.
āCome now,ā you said. āOne bite. If you eat with me I will not feel bad. Otherwise it seems I am the only one growing plump while you remain the same.ā
Valarr hesitated, but at last he smiled and took a piece of bread.
āVery well. But only because you say so.ā
You nodded, and the two of you ate in silence, watching through the window as the full moon slipped between the branches of the garden trees.
Most nights were like that. It had been so since you first began to feel the cravings. Valarr would appear with something, always something, and though he said he would not, he always ended up eating with you.
One of those nights, when everything was dark and sleep weighed on your eyelids, you heard a small noise beside you. First a sigh, then the rustle of sheets, then another. You opened your eyes just a little, not fully awake, and saw Valarr turn over in the bed, and then again.
āMy love,ā you whispered, your voice hoarse with sleep. āWhat is it? Again?ā
Valarr looked at you from his side of the bed. His hair was messy and his cheeks flushed, though it was not warm.
āIt is just thatā¦ the cravings are meant for you, and yet I seem to want to outshine my wife,ā he said, and his voice sounded so embarrassed that it filled you with tenderness.
You smiled and sighed, rubbing your eyes.
āJam with bread?ā you asked.
He nodded hopefully.
āI want some too,ā you whispered. āCome.ā
Valarr jumped out of bed as though he had been waiting hours for that word and helped you down. He held your arm while the two of you descended the stone stairs slowly, counting the steps as he had done ever since the maester said you should not strain yourself. They reached the kitchen, empty and dark, and he lit a candle while you searched for the afternoon bread. They ate sitting on the floor, leaning against the pantry: he with red berries piled over his bread, you with fig jam.
And you laughed when you saw him so happy, so dusted with sugar, so completely yours.
The next morning, however, Valarr rose with the sun and went straight to the maesterās chambers. He said nothing to you, only kissed your cheek and left with hurried steps.
The maester received him with surprise. Valarr asked to be examined completely: his eyes, his mouth, his chest, his stomach. Something was happening, he said, he was certain of it. Something had to be wrong.
āMy prince,ā said the maester, stepping back after having examined him for the second time, āwe have already looked you over twice. There is nothing wrong with you. You are as healthy as an oak.ā
Valarr frowned, restless. āNothing? It is just thatā¦ for days nowāwell, for monthsā¦ my wife noticed that I have strange cravings. Like hers. Cravings at night, during the day, for things I never usually eat. Perhaps I am dying of something that cannot be seen.ā
The maester shook his head, but he could see in the princeās eyes that this answer was not enough. Valarr needed a real explanation, something that would make sense of what was happening to him. The maester adjusted his spectacles and spoke slowly, choosing his words.
āThere are particular cases, my prince. Rare, but they exist. Sometimes, when a man is very closely bound to his wifeāespecially when she is expecting a childāhe may begin to feel some of what she feels. Nausea, cravings, sleeplessnessā¦ all of that. It is not something bad, nor is it an illness. It simply means the bond between you is very strong. And you, my prince, if you will allow me to say so, have been deeply attached to the princess since she arrived at court. That bond is so strong that the symptoms have found their way to you as well.ā
Valarr fell silent for a moment, absorbing the words. Then he nodded slowly.
āLove,ā said the maester, with a gentle smile. āThat is what it is, my prince. Love.ā
Valarr nodded again, took his leave, and stepped out into the corridor. He walked without hurry, looking at the torches along the walls, feeling the weight of the maesterās words settle in his chest. It all made sense now. The cravings, the sleepless nights, that constant need to be near you. It was love. Only that.
When he returned to the bedchamber, he saw you walking slowly from one side of the room to the other, one hand on your belly and the other against the wall, the way you did when your back ached a little. When you saw him, you stopped.
āWhat did the maester say?ā you whispered.
Valarr approached slowly and placed his hand over yours, there where the baby was moving. āHe said that what I have is love,ā he answered, and his eyes met yours.
You looked at him, confused.
āThat I love you so much that your symptoms have become mine as well,ā he explained with a shy smile. āThough, thanks to the gods, the vomiting is not connected to me. That, I would not have survived.ā
You laughed, and he did too.
āI am only a man in love with his very lovely wife,ā Valarr said, slipping an arm around your shoulders. āI cannot wait to meet our baby.ā
And he lowered his head to place a soft, warm kiss upon your forehead, while below, in your belly, the little one gave a kickāas if to say that he could not wait either.
A Los Angeles-inspired mansion featuring spacious living areas, a beautiful greenhouse, a resort-inspired pool, multiple outdoor entertainment spaces, and everything your Sims need for luxurious family living.
Remember when joining fandom as a younger person meant lurking for a bit and figuring out the vibe and etiquette instead of coming in on day one and calling people weirdos for liking weirdo shit in the weirdo factory.
Hellooooo! I saw your requests were open for akotsk. Can i request a Valarr x wife!reader fic. Where Valarr and the reader had their first major argument, and are giving each other silent treatment for days now. And Valarr has become stressed and snappy because now his wife does not cuddle and comforts him at night. And its freaking the entire family out, because the two are usually so talkative and lovey-dovey. So the family tries to smooth thing out between them.
You werenāt killed or anything or even harmed by the man that had advanced upon you, but leave it to Valarr to tell the tale and heād swear that it was an act against gods themselves.
He was furious against the small folk man that had tried to rob you whilst you were in Kings Landing, sent in a rage that no one could bring him out of. Not even you with your pleas to spare the poor manās life, which he refused.
Valarr would have none of it. He made a comment that the man should be put to death for even thinking about harming you, and thatās how the argument started.
A few hours later, you and Valarr were in a screaming match so loud that you were sure they could hear you all the way in Dorne. Your chest rose and fell with anger and your body shook, your hands pointing an accusing finger at him.
āI cannot believe you,ā You scoffed at Valarr who stood a few paces away from you, arms crossed and equally as angry. āHow dare you do that to him! How dare you sentence a man for the crime of being poor!ā
āHow dare you!ā Valarr shot back, his mismatched eyes wide with fury. āI was only trying to help, and yet you go and accuse me of ruining everything!ā
āBecause you did!ā You told him. āI had the situation under control! Had you not stepped in, then maybe all of this could have been avoided!ā
āHad I not stepped in then you would have been killed! Did you honestly expect me not to defend my wife?ā Valarr asked incredulously.
You let out a sigh of frustration. āI did not need defending, Valarr! For the last time, Ser Belmy and I had it under control. That man didnāt mean any harm. He was just hungry, and my necklace stood out like a beacon of hope to him.ā
āHe meant no harm, yet his had his arms wrapped around your neck ready to kill you! Is that what you call āno harm?āā
āHe wasnāt trying to kill me!ā You shouted at your thick headed husband, āHe was aiming for my necklace! He was starving and wished to use the gold to buy some food. You would have known that if you had not pounced on him and had him imprisoned! You cannot just go around punishing hungry men for acting in desperation, Valarr!ā
āI am the Prince, and I will very well do as I please. I had every right to do as I did and I will not stand here whilst my wife makes me to be the villain for upholding my duties,ā Valarr said. You scoffed as you stared at him, your eyes narrowing in annoyance.
āFine then. Stand no more. We are done here,ā You said furiously, and then your shoulder smacked into his as you barreled towards the door. You were so blind with rage and worry for the poor man that you just had to get out of that room, lest you said something to Valarr that you would regret and couldnāt take back.
āIs that so?ā Pettily, Valarr raced past you and got there first. He wrenched the door open and stomped down the empty hallways, boots thundering with every step.
āI believe that it is I that should leave first since it is you who dismissed me. Do not follow me,ā He said coldly, and you had the sudden urge to take off your shoe and throw it at him.
āI wasnāt planning on it!ā You barked towards him, and swiftly you made haste for the opposite direction.
āFine!ā Valarr called over his shoulder.
āFINE!ā You screamed back.
āGood!ā
āGOOD!ā
As you stomped away, you passed by a group of maids that had been sent up to prepare your chambers for the nighttime. Unbeknownst to you, they and the Kingsguard that were stationed near your chambers had heard your yelling.
They all exchanged glances as you flew by them in a fit of rage, and then once you were out sight one whispered,
āWhat do you suppose that was about?ā
āI donāt know,ā another maid answered, ābut Iāve never heard them argue like that.ā
āDo you suppose their marriage is on the rocks then?ā They exchanged worried glances. āAre they not happy anymore?ā
āNonsense,ā the third maid spoke up, firmly shaking her head in denial. āPrince Valarr and the princess love each other. Whatever that was about, Iām sure theyāll make up soon enough,ā she said confidently, though as they continued their way towards your rooms, she didnāt understand just how wrong she was.
ā
Later that evening, the conflict between you and Valarr had not been solved. If anything, it had been made worse as you both had time to stew in your anger separately, and now you sat across from each other as you had dinner that night.
Had it been up to you, you wouldnāt have saw your Lord husband at all. You were content go a few hours without seeing his face but unfortantly, royal duties triumped all.
There was a guest in the Red Keep that day. Lord Manderly and his family had travelled to Kings Landing to discuss some business with King Daeron and unfortunately you were stuck entertaining them.
They laughed and talked without a care in the world, but you barely engaged. You and Valarr were both oddly silent, pushing around your food and refraining from conversation.
Occasionally youād glance at once another and you cursed your heart for softening. You wanted to forgive him, you really did, but every time you thought about the man he had imprisoned you got angry all over again.
It didnāt help that Lady Manderly was insistent on bringing the incident up again.
She spoke with such dramatics and flair, clutching a hand over her heart as she said, āOh Princess, I heard the awful news of what happened today. Are you alright?ā
Suddenly, all eyes went to you and you nodded, staring at your plate in embarrassment.
āI am fine, my Lady. No harm was done, and the situation has beenā¦handled. I most appreciate your concerns, though.ā
From across the table, Valarr scoffed at the first part of your statement and shook his head.
āThe upmost harm was done by attacking the princess,ā he corrected you, ābut not to worry. The thief shall meet his fate soon enough.ā
Lord and Lady Manderly seemed more satisfied with that answer than your own, but you werenāt. You gritted your teeth as you stared him down, furious.
Valarr didnāt even meet your eyes, but you knew that he felt you staring. It infuriated you how he was still steadfast in his ridiculous need for vengeance, something that you would not allow.
You stabbed your peas angrily, eating them one by one and imagining them as Valarrās face. You were so distracted by your cruel little game that you missed Egg tugging on your arm.
āCan you pass the rolls please, cousin?ā He asked you, and you momentarily stopped your cruel game to grab them.
āHere you are Egg,ā you said with a smile smile, and he returned it but yours didnāt last long.
You were distracted by an agitating voice speaking up next, Valarr having the nerve and courage to speak to you.
āMay you please pass the rolls to me as well, wife?ā He asked, and it may have been childish but you pretended not to hear him.
You went back to eating your peas, your fork harshly stabbing the plate which made everyone at the table flinch. Baelor cleared his throat and Egg looked between the two of you, confused.
āY/N?ā
Still, you ignored Valarr, picking at your food until your name was called again.
āCousinā¦Y/Nā¦May you pass me the wine, please?ā Daeron slurred from further down the table, and though it looked like he didnāt need anything else to drink, you complied anyways.
āOf course, cousin. Here you are.ā
You handed it off and Valarr watched you in disbelief.
āSo you can hear,ā he said sourly, and your head snapped towards him in a fury.
āWhat was that? I do believe my ears are incapable of listening to those who speak without reason,ā you hissed at him, and Valarr scoffed as your voice caught the otherās attention.
By now, the tension between the two of you had been picked up by everyone had the table. It was unexpected, and impossible to ignore the way you glared at each other.
You and Valarr were a couple that never fought. Ever. Since youād gotten married two years ago, your marriage had been a peaceful one, full of agreements and compromises. Truthfully, this was the first time anyone had seen either of you full on angry.
It was confusing to say the least, but you and Valarr ignored it.
Now, it was his time turn to stab at peas angrily whilst you stewed into your wine. You took a sip and suddenly wished that you had more, knowing youād need at least three cups to get through the rest of this evening.
āCousin, I think that I may need the wine back,ā you told Daeron, and it was a good thing that he didnāt have to hand it over to Valarr, because youāre quite certain that the pitcher wouldāve never made it you way if it had.
ā
The next morning, Prince Baelor called you to his solar.
It was early, and the Prince was already breaking his fast when you arrived. The smell of sausages and eggs reached your nose, and you hoped that he might be alone because you were hungry. But to your dismay, he was dining with Valarr, your husband and his stupid face already present.
He looked up as you graced them with your presence, but you ignored him and addressed only his father.
āGood morrow, Prince Baelor,ā you curtsied, not even sparing your husband a glance which the elder Prince noticed. He rose an eyebrow at the two of you but you refused to comment, having a seat on the opposite side of Valarr.
āGood morrow to you too, good daughter,ā Baelor blinked. He looked between the two of you, not quite used to seeing you so apart. āHow did you both sleep?ā
You thought back to the night before, where you had slept in your shared chambers alone and disappointed. Since the day that you had married Valarr, you had not slept alone, and the night had been rough, lonely, and cold. Truth be told it was awful, but you refused to let Valarr know of this.
Instead you plastered on the biggest smile you could muster and said, āI slept wonderful, Your Grace. Truthfully the best Iāve had in years.ā
As soon as the words left your mouth the room grew quiet. Valarr snapped his head up, his mismatched eyes settling on you and glaring. There was a flicker of hurt that crossed his face and momentarily made you feel guilty.
You opened your mouth to change what you had said, believing that perhaps you were too harsh with your husband when he countered:
āReally? I slept wonderful as well, father. Itās amazing how fast one can fall asleep when thereās peace and quiet.ā
Your jaw dropped and Valarr smiled smugly, now his turn watch the hurt cross your face. You placed your utensils down, glaring right back and Baelor cleared his throat. āValarr, I donāt thinkāā
He was cut off by the sound of your chair scraping against the floor. Furious and no longer hungry at all, you turned to him and bestowed a tight smile.
āMy apologies, your Grace. I do appreciate your invitation this morning, but it seems that I am no longer hungry. I will take my leave and eat later in my chambers, if thatās alright.ā
You stared accusingly at Valarr and even Baelor knew that it was wise to let you go. With a sigh, he quietly nodded, and as you stomped off you could have sworn you heard him say something along the lines of,
āIdiot!ā
ā
Prince Maekar was the second to seek you out.
It was odd, seeing you rarely ever interacted with Valarrās uncle but you did not wish to be rude. When you got word that he wanted to see you, you made your way to his solar dutifully.
To your relief, he was alone when you made your way in, save for the Kingsguard Ser Willis. No Valarr was in sight so you figured that it was safe, smiling politely to Maekar who strangely did not return it.
āYou wished to see me, my prince?ā You asked, wondering what this could be about.
āYes. Please have a seat.ā
He gestured to the table and nodded your way, all while looking as bored as a Septon in a whorehouse. As you sat down, only silence stretched between the two of you. Maekar did not attempt to further the conversation or speak up, so awkwardly you cleared your throat.
āForgive me for my brashness, my prince,ā you said slowly, ābut was there a reason that you called upon me?ā
He didnāt seem to want anything, really. There was no food to have dinner or anything that seemed worthy of discussing. Prince Maekarās eyes kept flickering towards the door like he wanted to leave, and when he realized that he couldnāt, he just sighed.
āOh, well, yes. Iāā
He was cut off by the door opening. You had your back turned so that you could not see who had entered, but you stiffened as soon as you heard your husband speak.
āUncle. My father sent me and told me that he wishes to see you,ā Valarr said, and you could not gauge his reaction to your presence as you refused to turn around.
Maekar looked relieved by the arrival of his nephew. He gave you a curt nod and then got up so fast that you almost got whiplash.
āYes, well, I shall go see what thatās about. Iām terribly sorry to cut ourā¦discussion short, though I assume Valarr can entertain you until I get back.ā
He left so fast that you didnāt even have time to remind him that there was no discussion. Heād barely said two words to you and then in waltzed Valarr, who finally came into your view.
Your narrowed your eyes at each other simultaneously.
āWhat are you doing here?ā He asked you, no doubt as confused as you were. Prince Maekar barely spoke to him, let alone you, so seeing you here was a wonder.
āI could ask you the same thing,ā you said tightly, wondering why he had interrupted. āShouldnāt you be in the yard training by now?ā
āMy father sent me here instead,ā Valarr told you, voice still full of suspicion. āHe said that it was urgent that he spoke to my uncle.ā
āIt seems that he sent me here, too,ā you told him, having recognized the penmanship on the note. It was too regal to be Prince Maekarās and too casual to be a Maesterās. That meant that it was Prince Baelor that wanted you here, but why?
For a second, you and Valarr only stared at each other, silence coating the room. You could probably hear a pin drop on the floor before you husband cleared his throat, finally speaking and breaking it.
āHave you came to your senses then?ā He asked curtly, mismatched eyed filled with somewhat hope. āI might have thought that a good nights sleep would finally change your stance. Make you see the reason in what Iāve been saying all along.ā
His eyes met yours, but all he got was a scowl and a scoff.
āCome to my senses?ā You asked him, appalled. Valarr nodded.
āAbout the man. Have you finally realized that itās no use to defend such actions and that Iām in the right here?ā
The glare that you gave him could have burned a hole through stone. You stood up, your chair scraping as you pointed a finger at him.
āHave you come to your senses, you lunk, and finally realized that punishing a man for being hungry is a ridiculous thing?ā
By the way Valarrās lips bundled up, he hadnāt.
āIt is not ridiculous,ā his nostrils flared, his face giving away to his annoyance. āHe tried to attack you! I cannot just let that go!ā
āThen I suppose that we have nothing to talk about,ā you said sharply, āand I have no reason to stay.ā
If Prince Maeker wanted to see you then he could send for you again. Otherwise, you refused to stay in this room with your thick headed husband so you got up, this time breezing past him and leaving first.
Valarr stiffened as you pressed against him. It was only for half a second, and you felt it too, though you did not let the longing in your heart slow down your pace.
If Valarr wished to reconcile, then he was free to apologize, change his mind and do so. You on the other hand would not yield no matter how much your heart ached or how much your feet desperately wanted to turn around and go back to him.
You would not be the first to break, so you kept going, the distance between the two of you growing wider and wider.
ā
A day later, Egg came to you in peril.
He found you while you were sitting and chatting with your ladies in waiting, all of them comforting you after your spat with Valarr.
You had confessed what had happened, confiding in them that you felt confused and angry at the same time. You missed Valarr, but at the same time you couldnāt stand to be around him so long as he still sought vengeance upon the man.
Dagon, you had learned he was called, was only a poor begger doing what he had to do. You were sure that it was your necklace heād meant to grab and not your neck, and you didnāt think he deserved to die for that. And until Valarr saw that then well, you wanted nothing to do with him.
You told this to your ladies in waiting and as you ranted, Egg approached.
āCousin, may I steal you for a moment?ā
Only a boy of eight, you could not resist his sweet face and pleading eyes. They peered up at you so innocently that you didnāt even hesitate to say yes, bidding your ladies goodbye and walking with him.
āOf course. Where are we going, Egg?ā You asked him as he began leading you, and you were behind him so you could not see the small smirk on his face.
āYouāll see.ā
A few steps later, Egg took you to the fountain, the one that was just before you got to the garden. He stopped there and then turned to you with the saddest look you had ever seen, immediately making your heart drop.
āWhat is it Egg? Is something wrong?ā You asked him, worried.
He put on his best pout and nodded. āIāve lost Syrax, cousin, and I think she may have ran into the gardens. I would go looking for her myself, but father says Iām not to wonder alone. I might get lost, he says, so could you help me please?ā
He looked at you with those big, unyielding eyes and of course you said yes. Without a second thought you gave him a kiss on the cheek, promising that youād go and find the cat yourself.
You hiked up your dress and made your way into the gardens, disappearing into the neatly trimmed hedges while Egg smiled.
He indeed stayed by the fountain whilst you wondered into the bushes, making cat sounds and trying to think of where a cat might be hiding in a place like this.
Perhaps sheāll be near one of the trees, you thought, and no sooner did you venture there did you run into Valarr.
To your surprise, he was in plain clothes, crouching beneath a hedge of bushes in the shape of a dragon. He had his back turned to you as he made kissing sounds, saying sweet words to try to lure the animal back to him.
You started to smile at the sight and softly giggled, momentarily forgetting the situation. You thought that it was adorable how much effort he was putting into this but then you cursed yourself as the sound caught his attention. Valarr whipped around, and you instantly stopped laughing as his eyes met yours.
āPrincess,ā he blinked, surprised and a little embarrassed by your presence. āWhat are you doing here?ā He asked you, if only to distract you from looking at his current predicament.
āI am looking for a cat,ā your eyes scanned the trees, but nothing stood out to you except for Valarr. Him looking for the cat had warmed your heart indeed, but you couldnāt resist being a little petty as you said, āThough it seems that Iāve ran into a donkey instead. How unfortunate.ā
Valarr did not seem offended by your insult, which was good because deep down you didnāt mean it. Instead he looked amused as he stood, wiping some dust from his hands before saying, āAnd it seems that a mule has found me as well. Stubborn this one is, but she has good hips at least.ā
You gasped in mock offense. You had the sudden urge to give him a clout in the ear, and Valarr laughed as he dodged your attempts, amused as you stomped your foot down.
āYou were recruited by Egg, werenāt you?ā You accused him, and he nodded.
āWell of course I was. Syrax is his cat,ā he said smoothly.
A bitter taste began to form in your mouth. Now that you thought about it, it sure was convenient that Valarr was here and yet, the cat was nowhere to be found.
You gave your husband a look and it seemed that Valarr was thinking the same. He followed you as you quickly ran back to the fountain, sighing as you saw that Egg and Syrax were safe and sound.
āWell. Isnāt this a miracle,ā you drawled, crossing your arms as you looked the cat. She looked fine; perfect even as she pranced by Eggās feet without a care in the world. She was entirely too clean for a cat that was supposedly ālost in the gardens,ā and your suspicions rose against your good cousin.
āOh yes. Itās a miracle indeed,ā Egg nodded vigorously, a wide smile crossing his little face. āSyrax found me just as you entered the gardens, but I figured that it would be imprudent to impose on the two of you. Did you talk?ā
You narrowed your eyes at the little boy who seemed a little too eager to know the answer. And now that you thought about it, this whole thing seemed a way too convenient for your taste.
āYes. We talked,ā you informed Egg, but apparently that wasnāt enough for the boy.
āAnd?ā He pressed, staring at you expectantly while you frowned.
āAnd we didnāt find the cat there,ā Valarr stated the obvious, āand I nearly impaled myself looking amongst all the thrones.ā
āOh nevermind that!ā Egg waved him off, sounding exasperated as he threw up his arms. āDid the two of you make up or what?ā He asked.
He looked hopeful, but it was safe to say that by the scowls on yours and Valarrās faces, you had not.
āEgg!ā
āAegon!ā
He shrugged sheepishly as he avoided your gaze. āWhat? It does not hurt to ask.ā
ā
After the whole fiasco with Aegon, you were highly suspicion when you were approached by Daeron.
Admittedly you were a little late, only just now seeing how your family would seek you out and coincidentally Valarr would be there as well. It had become a pattern, one that was slowly turning from coincidence to intentional.
Egg had all but confirmed it when he tried to nose his way into your business, but you gave Daeron grace because he really did seem drunk and in need of help.
āI justā¦I just need you to help me overājust there. By that bench, please.ā He stumbled, leaning on you for support and by the way he reeked of alcohol, you did not think that it was fake.
You did keep an eye out for Valarr though, the suspicions never quite leaving your mind. You were half tempted to bolt before he so conveniently turned up, but still you asked,
āIs there anything else that I can get for you, cousin?ā Because you did not want to leave him in the sun to die.
āIf you will, dear cousin, fetch me something to drink,ā Daeron moaned. āPreferrably wine, if the kitchens have it.ā
In the back of your mind, you made a note that he probably did not need it but you werenāt one to judge. With a polite nod you went anyways, though you had that sneaking suspicion that you might not have been alone.
Sure enough, as soon as you entered all of the cooks bowed to you, but they did not give you their immediate attention. That was because they were too busy talking to Valarr, who stood with the pitcher you were meant to take to Daeron.
You felt eye twitch. Of course.
āWhat are you doing here?ā You asked him, though it was out routine at this point because you knew exactly who had sent him.
āIām getting Daeron another pitcher of wine,ā Valarr replied coolly. āWhy are you here?ā
It was then that you knew that this meeting was no act at all. Drunk and all, Daeron had played you, and that much was clear by the fact that he had disappeared by the time you got back to the bench.
You and Valarr held the pitchers like a couple of fools and your husband sighed. He placed his down on the bench and then glanced at you from the corner of his eye, casually saying,
āIāve decided to grant Dagon with a trial.ā
Heād said it so nonchalantly that you almost missed it. His face didnāt show, his back still turned to you, but you could tell he was probably waiting for your reaction.
You frowned.
āIād rather there be no trial at all,ā you told Valarr, āfor it has never been a crime in Westeros to be hungry.ā
The groan that left your husbandās lips sounded fed up. He turned to you, and you could tell that was indeed what he was feeling by the way his lips hardened into a line.
āI am doing everything that I can, Y/N,ā he said desperately, and you tried to ignore how much you wanted to melt by the way he said your name. āBut I cannot do much because he did attack a princess. You are royalty by marriage and to do what he did usually means death. A trial is a mercy that many do not get.ā
āAnd if I recall, youāre the one who said that a prince may do as he pleases. If that is true, then why can you not grant me this, husband?ā
Valarr did not answer.
He lowered his gaze and you had the sudden urge to reach out to him, the near week of absence getting to you. You missed him and you missed his touch as well. Your body craved him every night even if your mind was as stubborn as a mule. You wanted to be with him, but your sense of justice would not allow you to do so.
āI am doing the best that I can,ā Valarr said finally, ābut as much as a Prince may do as he pleases, I am not the king. The law does not bend to my will but to his.ā
He shook his head, and you felt guilt rise in your chest as he began to walk away.
The pitcher in that was still in your hand suddenly felt a thousand times heavier, the words in your throat even worse. You wanted to call out to him, to tell him to wait, but by the time you had swallowed your pride, it was too late.
Valarr was gone.
ā
Aelora and Aelor had been your last straw. By then, you thought youād gotten used to your families shenanigans, but then the little twins approached you all sad and you became oblivious once again.
āCousins? Whatās the matter?ā You knelt beside them, watching as they dragged their feet and looked solemnly at you through sad eyes.
āWe donāt have anyone to play with us,ā Aelora said glumly, kicking the dirt underneath her in frustration. āWe asked Egg, but he says that heās busy.ā
āDaeron is too drunk and Aerion told us to go away,ā Aelor shook head, and then he peered through his lashes and made sure that you were looking when he said, āAnd Valarr usually would, but heās been so down this past week that he hardly wants to play anymore.ā
āItās just not fair,ā Aelora then sniffed. āHeās the only one that will chase us besides Egg, and I miss our cousin. I do hope that he feels better soon.ā
You felt a pang of guilt that the reason he was acting this way was maybe because of you. It had been well over a week since the fight now, and the two of you still hadnāt made up or talked unless it was to argue. You figured that maybe it was time to change that though because you couldnāt bear to see the children so sad anymore. You also couldnāt bare it to sleep alone anymore, the barren sheets and the bitter cold at night driving you insane.
You sighed.
āI will talk to him and figure out what is wrong him,ā you told them, āand in the meantime, I will chase you.ā
It was the least that you could do to make up for your strife against Valarr, and the children seemed satisfied with that. They laughed and giggled while you followed them around, pretending to be a great big dragon trying to eat them. You were sure that you looked and sounded quite silly, but it was your fault they were down so you dealt with it.
And afterwards, as you all sat on the ground and breathed heavily from your playing, you stared at the twins for a moment before asking,
āWhat else have you noticed about Valarr this past week?ā
You couldnāt help yourself. The two of you werenāt talking, and you hadnāt realized how starved you were for any interaction with him. It felt like torture not knowing so here you, trying to extract gossip from a pair of nine year olds.
Pathetic.
āWell, he seemed snappier, thatās for sure,ā Aelor pretended to think, touching a hand to his chin.
āAnd he seemed sad, like he was really guilty of something. I think I overheard him telling father that he wished to apologize for something, but first he wanted to go to the gardens to think,ā Aelora said. Her eyes twinkled with a kind of mischief that you missed because you were too busy thinking.
āThe garden, huh?ā
Your feet suddenly found their footing and it seemed that you were acting on instinct. You stood up, this time not to chase the two children but to go after your husband. It felt like something had finally knocked some sense into you, and you knew what you had to do.
āIāll be back,ā you told the children, your stomach churning with anxiety and anticipation. āGo find your Septa so youāre not alone out here.ā
The two children took off and you waited until you knew they were safe to do the same. Your heart pounded, your knees nearly going weak as you walked to the gardens.
It was ridiculous. You shouldnāt have scared to approach your own husband but yet you wereāand you had to remind yourself that you were going to make up with him, not go to war.
Like the children said, you found Valarr in the gardens. His back was turned to you as he knelt over some bushes, fingers nimbly plucking at stems. You felt your heart squeeze when you realized that he getting flowers. Plucking daffodils, your favorite, and holding them to his chest.
It was such a heartwarming sight that you couldnāt help but to break the tension.
āI do hope youāre not picking those for another woman,ā you called out to him, startling him. āIād sure hate to have to cut out her tongue for winning my husbandās affection.ā
Valarr turned and on his face you could see a small smile as he spotted you. In what felt like forever, you gave him one back, your chuckle letting him know that you werenāt being serious.
āNo. I donāt think Iād let you. I quite like her tongue,ā he replied cheekily, hiding the daffodils behind his back. āIt is sharp and full of cheek; and it speaks the truth even when I am not willing to hear it. Trust me when I say, no other woman deserves these but her.ā
He pulled the flowers from behind his back, and your eyes nearly filled with tears. You took them into your hands and looked at him, not being able to take the distance anymore.
āIām sorry,ā both of you broke at once, the words flying out together. As it turned out, neither of you could hold it in any longer. It was killing you be this way towards one another. It was unfair, unnatural, and your fighting had gone on long enough.
āNo, Iām sorry,ā you were the first to speak again, guilt coating your face as you shook your head. āIām the one that has been ungrateful as of late, and I have been punishing you for acting only as a husband should. Had it been me, I think I would have done the same.ā
The statement left a bitter taste in your mouth, but it was true. Had some woman came up to Valarr and tried to attack him, you wouldāve been the first to call for her head.
It was what one did when they loved someone the way you two did. The desire to protect them consumed all else, and you could no longer fault him for being engulfed by it.
āAs am I,ā Valarr quickly apologized as well, frowning as he recalled. āIāve acted with haste and like husbandānot as a prince. I found myself so eager to protect you that I was willing to deny a man justice. I spoke with him the other day, and you were right. He was merciful, and it is not fair to punish a man to death for only trying to live. I know that now.ā
He grabbed your hand and gently squeezed, but you surprised him by throwing your arms around him instead. You buried your face in his neck and sighed, missing the feeling of his warm skin.
āYou are a good man, husband. And you were only doing what you thought was right. I donāt deserve you, Iām sorry,ā you muttered into his shoulder.
You felt Valarrās grip tighten around your body.
āNo, it is I who does not deserve you,ā he told you. āAnd Iām sorry.ā
The two of you stood there, holding one another and soaking in all that you had missed over the previous week. Your hands found his hands. His heart found your heart. And together you let the silence wash away all of the bitterness between you.
When you pulled away, you gave Valarr a small smile.
āHow about we just agree to disagree, lest all of our apologies go out the window and another argument ensues,ā you joked.
Valarr chuckled at this, and he agreed to let it be.
āLet us just say that we are both sorry, and we both do not deserve one another,ā he suggested, and you grinned.
āThat sounds like an excellent compromise to me.ā
Phainon but he just loveeeesssss having you on his lap. Loves lifting you in any form, really. Heās a little bit of a show off in that way, picking you up with just one arm and parading you about Okhema like it is his proudest accomplishment. Yet, his favorite remains having you sat upon his lap.
So many ways to do it, and so many scenarios which itās appropriate to do so. (Is there really, Phainon?) There is, of course, the classic and most publicly appropriate in which you settle yourself diagonally across his lap. Itās not the most comfortable for him, he has to remain a stiff and sturdy seat, but thatās no worry for the Deliverer of Okhema!
There is also the single thigh, another that he pulls out often. He has to support the whole of your weight in this one, which he much prefers. He also gets a wonderful feel of your plush tummy and thighs without others giving him looks for it. Well, others who donāt know him. Well enough, that is.
He occasionally even has you sit between his legs, leaving enough room for your rear to slot right against his crotch. This oneā¦ isnāt pulled out often for numerous reasons. Mostly because it gets him too excited, but also because itās lacking most of his favorite parts of you being in his lap. Particularly the sitting on him one.
The favorite, though, he cannot do in public for fear of Aglaeaās wrath. Not that he cares for sharing your visage in intimacy with others in the first place, but it does make him sad he canāt have you as he likes all the time.
Nothing is more intimate than having you above him, thighs shaking, as he guides you to sit upon him. A ruler to their throne, he likes to say, there is no seat in Okhema more suitable for you. Those terrible, strong hands of his are deceptively kind as he eases you onto him. Careful not to push too far, supporting your weight until you can take him to the hilt.
Even then, the ride is hardly his favorite part ā not that he can say heās not a fan. Truthfully, what Phainon loves the most about having you on his lap, facing him? He can kiss you as much as he pleases. He could care less about the way you clench around him, or the shake in your legs as you come undone. Any man could do so, any man could pretend to care for a night then disappear, and you know this too.
That is why your kiss, the slotting of your lips against his is more intimate than any position he could have you in. It is a promise of devotion, a reminder that you have chosen him. Through millions of cycles, spanning endless choices, you have always chosen him. Those lips of yours have only chosen to touch his, and they will only ever choose him.
So, yes, Phainon loves having you in his lap for endless reasons. To show off, to proclaim, to pleasure. Yet, in that big heart of his, the only good reason to have you there is to reseal your promise to each other. Again and again and again, until Amphoreus breaks into a new dawn.
when boy bands sing a love song addressed to the listener does that imply all 5-10 of them are in love with you at once. that seems like a lot of pressure i don't know if i want to be the nucleus of the boyband polycule.
WARNINGS: angst, mention of major character death, hurt no comfort
A/n: I had a urge to write an angst fic Iām sorry
masterlist | wc: 3k
THE SAND was still warm beneath your fingers, holding onto the sun's heat as if it refused to give way to the slowly advancing night. Each grain slipped between your fingertips with a soft, almost silky texture, clinging faintly to your salt-damp skin. In front of you, the sun was slowly sinking beyond the horizon, devoured little by little by the sea, while the sky transformed into a canvas painted with liquid orange, crimson, and violet, colors so vivid they reflected across the water in long, trembling streaks. The waves reached the shore gently, breaking along the waterline in a constant murmur before retreating, dragging shells, seaweed, and thin threads of white foam back with them. The salty air filled your lungs with every breath, sharp and familiar, blending with the scent of wind, warm sand, and the open sea. It should have been a perfect moment, one meant to linger sweetly in memory, and yet your heart was beating too fast, too hard, unevenly, as if it were desperately trying to warn you of something you already knew far too well.
Beside you, Jacaerys sat with his legs stretched out in front of him, his torso leaning slightly back, one hand buried in the sand as his fingers absentmindedly traced small grooves without even realizing it. His other hand rested near yours, close enough that the backs of your fingers brushed occasionally when the wind shifted the sand, yet still too far to truly hold. His face was turned toward the sea, illuminated by the last rays of sunset that softened his features and made the dark highlights in his hair glimmer. His gaze was fixed beyond the horizon, as though he were watching something you could not see. He was there, so close you could have counted his eyelashes if you had turned your head, and yet he felt miles away. A part of him had been drifting further and further from you over the past few days, a thought he did not share, a burden he carried alone, and that distance gnawed at you far more than any physical separation ever could. He was distant, far too distant for your liking.
Ahead of you, not far away, Vermax moved with restless energy. He dug into the sand with his forepaws, sending up small golden clouds that the wind quickly scattered, then lowered his snout as if following an invisible trail before suddenly darting forward in a graceful leap. Every now and then, he let out a low, almost satisfied sound, his wings spreading slightly to keep his balance as he ran. The sunset set his green scales ablaze with copper reflections, turning him, for a moment, into a creature of emerald and fire. He was still young, but his body grew stronger every day, more powerful, and watching him it was impossible not to think that soon he too would know the skies of war. For a moment, seeing him play like an unaware hatchling, everything felt incredibly normal. You almost managed to convince yourself that tomorrow did not exist, that there were no armies ready to clash, no dragons destined to burn, no loved ones fated to leave.
You pressed yourself a little closer to Jacaerys, seeking the warmth of his body, the solidity of his presence. You searched for him as you always had, without ever stopping, chasing him with the same stubbornness with which the sea chased the shore. You searched for him in his glances, his silences, his hands, in the rare caresses he allowed himself when no one could see. You chased him like a starving creature chasing its only chance of survival, running until you were breathless, until you had no strength left. And yet, no matter how much you pursued him, you constantly felt as though you never truly reached him. There was always something just beyond your grasp. Even sitting beside you, even with his shoulder pressed against yours, Jacaerys felt more distant than ever.
He did not pull away. Instead, he tilted his head slightly until it brushed yours, letting the weight of his temple rest lightly against you, as though that simple contact was enough to remind him where he wanted to be. His scent enveloped you immediately. He smelled of sea, of worn leather, of wind, and that faint hint of honey that seemed uniquely his. It was a scent you had come to associate with safety, with home, with everything beautiful you had found in him. You inhaled slowly, trying to fill your lungs with it, as if you could hold onto it long enough to never forget. But the knot tightening in your stomach remained, stubborn, hard as stone, unwilling to loosen.
"You're trembling." he murmured after a long silence. His voice was low, soft, infinitely gentler than the one he showed to others. It was a voice that belonged only to you, hidden beneath the princely confidence he wore every day. His fingers finally sought yours and, without hesitation, intertwined with them. The warmth of his skin spread instantly through your hand, traveling slowly up your arm to your chest, where your heart seemed to miss a beat before racing even faster.
"I'm not cold." you replied, but the moment you spoke those three words, your voice faltered slightly. It was almost imperceptible, but he caught it immediately. You weren't cold, and that was true. Your body still held the warmth of the sun and his closeness. It was something else freezing you from within, something that made it hard to breathe without feeling your chest tighten. It was fear, the kind that had been creeping into every thought for days, following you even into your dreams and waking you in the middle of the night with a hollow ache in your chest.
Silence settled between you again. It was heavy, filled with words trapped behind lips, with confessions too large to be spoken and too painful to ignore. You kept staring at the sea without truly seeing it, while inside you, every thought collided with the next, tangling into an impossible knot. You wanted to tell him everything, shout it at him, even. How terrified you were, how much you already hated the war before it had even begun, how much you wanted to drag him away from it all. But every sentence felt inadequate, too small to hold the weight pressing against your chest.
Vermax, as if sensing that invisible tension, suddenly stopped playing. He lifted his head toward you and remained still for a moment, his narrow pupils watching you curiously. He let out a low, questioning sound, then slowly folded his legs and settled onto the still-warm sand. His wings remained slightly open, shifting with the evening breeze, while his long tail absentmindedly traced uneven lines along the shore.
You let yourself fall against Jacaerys with a soft sigh, resting your head on his shoulder. The rough fabric of his tunic brushed gently against your cheek, and beneath it you could feel the living warmth of his body, the slow rhythm of his breathing, the steady beat of his heart. You wished you could stay like that forever, trapping that moment before time could take it away from you. Yes, giving him silence felt better than offering useless words he wouldn't listen to anyway.
He shifted slightly to hold you more comfortably against him. You felt his breath brush your temple, the subtle rise and fall of his chest against yours. "You don't have to say it if you don't want to." he said softly. He tried to give you space to choose, but you knew it was only an illusion. Jacaerys knew you too well by now. He had learned to read you in your silences, in your averted glances, in the way you clenched your hands when you were unsettled. You could remain silent all you wanted, but he would still see every fear reflected in your eyes.
You closed your eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply in an attempt to sort through your thoughts. There were too many things you wanted to say, so many that you couldn't decide where to begin. Every sentence seemed to break apart before it could even form. In the end, only one came out, simple and painfully honest. "I'm afraid." you admitted, and saying it aloud made everything more real, more impossible to ignore. "I... I've been thinking a lot these past days. The war is coming, and you... you will fight, and I... I don't..." Your voice broke before you could finish. I don't want to lose you. Those words remained trapped inside you, too painful to release. Your hand tightened around his desperately, as if that alone could keep him from leaving, could hold him there beside you, far from any battlefield.
Jacaerys remained silent. You felt his chest rise beneath your cheek in a deeper breath than the others, while his fingers tightened slightly around yours. He, too, was fighting a war, hidden behind the impassive expression he wore every day. Something was slowly devouring him from within, consuming his heart piece by piece, and you could feel it even without him saying a word. He hated seeing you like this. He hated hearing your voice tremble, seeing fear take the place of the smile he always tried to protect. For a moment, he lowered his gaze to your intertwined hands, as if searching there for the strength to lie to you, or to tell you the truth.
"You won't lose me." he said, with a certainty that almost hurt. He spoke it like a promise, with that unshakable conviction he always carried when trying to protect you.
You wanted to believe him. You wanted it with all of yourself, with that part of your heart that stubbornly kept hoping even when reason screamed at it to stop. You longed to cling to his words like a castaway clings to the last piece of driftwood, letting that promise become strong enough to suffocate every fear. But war knew nothing of promises. War was unpredictable, cruel, indifferent to the wishes of those left behind to wait. It only took a moment, a single arrow, a blade, a breath of fire, for everything to change forever. He could die at any instant, and you knew that far too well. The uncertainty was the most painful part. It wasn't knowing he would leave, it was not knowing if he would ever return. It was living in anticipation of news that could destroy you, continuing to breathe while your heart felt suspended between hope and terror. You tried desperately to convince yourself that Jacaerys was different, that the gods would show him mercy, but deep down a voice kept whispering that the gods had never shown mercy to anyone.
"Hey, look at me. I'll come back to you. Always." His voice gently broke the thread of your thoughts, pulling you back to the present. He lifted his free hand slowly, as if afraid of breaking something invisible between you. His fingertips brushed your cheek with infinite tenderness, grazing skin still warm from the sun and the evening wind. The touch was light, yet it made you catch your breath. His fingers lingered on your face for a moment, as though trying to memorize every detail, every line, every imperfection he had yet to learn.
His fingers paused beneath your chin, lifting it slightly until you were forced to look at him. Forced to raise your gaze until it met his. His eyes were fixed on yours, deep, dark like the sea when the sun disappears beyond the horizon, and yet still incredibly alive. There was so much in that gaze that for a moment you forgot how to breathe. Everything else faded away, leaving only the rapid beat of your heart.
"I promise you." he added in a whisper, lowering his tone as if those words belonged only to the two of you. It was a vow carried by the wind, fragile and precious at the same time, spoken with a conviction only Jacaerys seemed to possess. He truly believed it. You could see it in the way he looked at you, in the firmness of his expression, in the certainty with which he had spoken. He wasn't trying to comfort you with a lie. He was convinced he would return to you. Convinced that nothing could ever separate you.
You wanted to answer him. You wanted to tell him that promises meant nothing against fate, that no oath could stop dragonfire or deflect the flight of an arrow. You wanted to beg him not to make promises he couldn't keep. But the words died in your throat before they could even form. They remained trapped behind the knot tightening in your chest, unable to turn into sound. In that moment, you didn't want to be rational. You only wanted to believe him. You wanted to cling desperately to that certainty, to have something to soothe your pain. You wanted to believe that he would come back to you, no matter what.
"What if..." you began softly, already feeling tears pressing behind your eyes. But he didn't let you finish.
He shook his head slightly, a faint smile touching his lips. "No 'ifs'." he said, with a firmness that allowed no argument. "Not tonight. Not tomorrow." For one night, he wanted to let you forget what awaited you. For a few hours, he wanted the war to remain far away, confined beyond the horizon along with the sun that had already disappeared.
His fingers left your chin and slid slowly through your hair. He gently moved a strand the wind had blown across your eyes, tucking it behind your ear before resting his hand at the back of your neck. You felt the warmth of his touch spread through your skin as he slowly drew you closer. There was a faint hesitation in his movements, almost imperceptible, as if he too understood that this would not be just a kiss. It was a way of telling you everything he couldn't put into words, a desperate attempt to carve that moment into memory before time could steal it away. When his lips met yours, the world seemed to shrink until it held only the two of you.
It was warm, so warm, and deep, yet at the same time incredibly gentle. There was no rush, no urgency, only the desire to imprint that moment into your memory, to make it eternal even though you both knew it wouldn't be. That it was only a fleeting instant in the pages of your life, something no one would ever remember but the two of you. His fingers tightened slightly at the back of your neck, while your hand found its place against his chest. Through the fabric of his tunic, you felt his heart beating strongly. It was such a reassuring sensation that you wished it would never end.
For a moment, you forgot everything. You forgot the fear, the war, your uncertain future. There was only him, the warmth of his lips against yours, the way he held you close, and his fragile promise carried by the wind.
When he pulled away, he did so slowly, as if reluctant to break the contact. His lips brushed yours once more before fully parting, his forehead resting against yours. Your breaths still mingled in the small space between you, and neither of you seemed able to gather the courage to widen that distance. He closed his eyes briefly, inhaled deeply, and when he opened them again, something had changed in his gaze.
"I love you. So much."Ā he whispered, so softly you almost thought you had imagined it. He said it as if it hurt him, as if it were the last time.
You didn't want to hear a declaration of love spoken with such sadness, such pain. It wasn't what he had promised. It wasn't what you had dreamed of.
Tears stung your eyes again, but you still managed a faint smile. "I love you too." you replied in the same fragile tone, letting those words finally find their way to him.
You remained like that for a moment, suspended between what is and what will be, until you let yourself fall against him again, resting your head on his shoulder. His arm wrapped around you, pulling you closer, as if he wanted to protect you from everything to come. In front of you, Vermax let out a low sound, almost like a quiet call. He lifted his head toward the now dark sky, while the evening wind made his wings tremble slightly. The first stars began to appear above you, cold and distant, shining in their eternal indifference to human pain.
"Would you stay here forever, if you could?" you asked, without lifting your gaze, afraid of what you might find in his.
Jacaerys remained silent for a moment, and you already knew the answer before it left his lips. "Yes." he admitted honestly. "I would stay here with you, I would marry you, and I would make you the happiest girl in Westeros. But I can't." His tone turned bitter.
You nodded slightly against him. You knew. You had always both known. And yet, for that evening, for those few moments stolen from the gods, you chose to pretend it was enough. That the sound of the waves, the warmth of your bodies, your fleeting glances, and the silent presence of a young dragon were all that existed in the world. And as you stayed there, pressed against him, your head on his shoulder and your fingers entwined with his, you chose to believe his words. To believe that he would come back to you.
But that would never happen. Jacaerys would never return to you, you would never marry, and he would never make you the happiest girl in Westeros. Not in that moment, not the next day, not ever. His empty promises sank with his body in the Gullet, in the instant those arrows struck him, while he died with your name on his lips and your face behind his eyelids.
Just a little thought inspired by my Tomodachi island!!
The coffee machine bubbled cheerfully to a mechanical tune as the scent of roasted beans permeated the air.
While waiting for the cups to fill, Phainon gently stirred the boiling milk on the stove; and a breeze, soft and kind, tousled at his hair, messing up his already unruly bangs from sleep.
All in all, it was a quiet morning; the happy chirping from nearby birds created the perfect melody, giving the small kitchen an even cozier ambiance.
"Yess, finally!"
The white-haired halted his stirring, opting to listen to his lover's morning rambles. Turning off the stove, he peered from the door, sky eyes drifting to the living room where you sat hunched on the sofa, blanket across your shoulders and console on your lap.
A wide smile pulled at your lips as you hummed contentedly; your eyes never leaving the screen. A few feet from you, on the coffee table lay an empty packet where the new game once stood.
Cups in hand, Phainon approached with a gentle smile of his own, he sat on your left.
Sensing his presence, you gave him an impossibly wide smile, -the sole sight of it made his heart flutter-, and pointed excitedly towards the screen.
"Look! Will you marry me!"
At that moment, something stopped.
He felt his smile crack.
Phainon of Aedes Elysiae halted.
Mind huffing and reeling, failing to cool the worst short-circuit ever known to mankind.
Only one thought circled round and round.
It wasn't meant to be like this-
"We... what?"
"This is what they just said! Aren't they the cutest?"
"We just got married!" You continued, shoving the console in his face.
At that, he followed your gaze and met with a photo of your mii and his among the Australian fish and corals, looking at each other in what looked like the most lovesick gaze of the century.
Oh.
Ooh.
His heart nearly skipped a beat.
Thank God.
Sighing softly, as you were too preoccupied with the fake marriage, Phainon managed a fond yet exasperated smile.
For a moment he thought you were going to propose right then and there; of course not that he would have hated it, quite the contrary in fact, but he would rather be the one to ask.
For now, he just hoped you wouldn't surprise him like this anymore.
And as he listened to your gushing and fangirling of your mii's new love life, he couldn't help but imagine what the real deal would be like. But that would take another bit, until he finished planning everything and maybe even gather enough courage -Mydei keeps nagging at him to just ask-.
After all, it will be his turn when he'll present you with the velvet box hidden in his drawer.
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
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