Valarr Targaryen x wife!reader
Summary: The Spring Sickness has finally ended, the king has died and his son has risen to the throne. Valarr and Matarys make it through Spring, and Valarr's wife thanks the Gods for it...
Tags: married couple fluff, Daeron II is dead, Baelor II is here! fix it fic, Aerion is mentioned (he is a warning even as a mention), Valarr and reader have two children, crying, reader is not described and her house in not mentioned, but she is AFAB, happy ending
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The fever had died down a few days prior.
She couldn’t help but thank the Gods. After so long of sitting next to her beloved husband, feeling useless in being unable to do nothing as the maesters continued their work. All she could do is pray and help in whatever small ways the maesters would allow her, which was mostly changing the towel on his forehead and helping him eat and drink when he was able. After so many days, the only thing keeping her hope up was the feeling of his hand holding his. She dreaded the day she would wake up and not feel that hold anymore.
The king died a week ago. The Queen, now Queen Mother, hasn’t left their shared room since. She only accepted visitors in the form of her chambermaids and her sons, especially if they had news of her grandsons.
The Spring Sickness had already taken many by the time it reached the Red Keep, which made everyone more on edge when the King had gotten sick, even more so when the princes Valarr and Matarys fell with him. The Royal Family already got close with tragedy when the Trial of Seven occurred at Ashford Meadow, where Prince Baelor had received a harsh blow to the head by his younger brother, Prince Maekar. He remarkably survived with proper cognitive function and what would be a terrible scar in the back of his head. Now, his father is dead and left him King, but his two sons are slowly recovering from the Sickness by the grace of the Gods.
“You look deep in thought, my sweet,” Valarr told her, snapping her from her thoughts. She looked over from where she sat next to the bed, Valarr was sat up against his pillows with his hair in a rough state, especially his bangs which had dried in a strange fashion due to the towel that was placed upon him to help his body temperature. She chuckled to herself before reaching over to try to fix his hair, causing him to laugh as well with her, reaching his own hands up to swat her hers away. “Stop it!” he cried, like a child whose mother was teasing him, his face reddening, bringing more color to his face that was pale too long.
He took one of her hands in his and brought it to his lips, kissing it gently as he looked at her again. “What are you thinking about?” he asked his beloved. She took a seat next to him on the bed, one hand still in his while the other drifted form his hair to cradle his face. “I’m just thinking of the misfortune of the family as of late, it seems that the only good things that have happened is that the realm had your father as King and you and Matarys defeating the plague.”
“Not to mention Aerion being sent to Lys, it seems Uncle Maekar had finally had enough,” Valarr said, taking the hand on his face and kissing it before lowering it to their other set of conjoined hands. “Well, I’m only in this family by marriage, I keep certain talk of the Royal Family to it’s true members.” She laughed, despite years of marriage she always kept quiet about the interesting members of House Targaryen. Whether it be the drunken habits of Prince Daeron, the madness of Prince Rhaegel, or the cruel actions of Prince Aerion.
“I wager your uncle had enough when he nearly lost his brother due to Aerion’s antics. Imagine you and Matarys in their shoes, worsened by going to the hells together on the Redgrass.” She added, tightening her hold on his hands before leaning in to kiss Valarr on the head.
“Enough of that now,” she said as she rose from the bed, “you can imagine which two little ones have been wanting to see you for so long, calling for you almost every day.”
A smile crept onto his face at the thought of their children, Baelon who was 5 and Aemma who was 3, he hadn’t seen them since before he had gotten sick since they quarantined him and Matarys at their first signs of sickness. “Let them in, please let me see them!” he said, “they must have been so scared!”, he reached for her hand again, he surely would have gone onto his knees if he had the strength. His wife laughed again before kissing him again, “I will send for them, but only because the maesters have assured you are no longer a danger to spread the sickness, besides that you’re just needing to recover your strength. Which means they can’t be rough with you!”.
The children loved to play with Valarr, especially Baelon who would play “knights” with him while Aemma and their mother would play princesses locked in tall towers. Sometimes Valarr would play a villain who had either Aemma, or his wife captured and Baelon would be the brave hero to rescue the maiden.
After a few minutes, the children arrived. They nearly knocked the door down once they were given leave to finally see their father. “Kepa! Kepa!” they cried as they ran up to him, their mother had to catch them both from behind to ask, “What did we say to do?” only for the children to calm slightly and quietly, defeatedly say “to be careful with Kepa” before being allowed to approach the bed. Valarr laughed, patting the bed saying “don’t be scared, I’m not dead” which unfortunately sent Aemma crying.
“But you almost were, like great-grandfather! Please don’t go, please!” she cried with tears rolling down her face, her mother picked her up and placed her in Valarr’s lap, who held her tightly. “Don’t worry, my dove, I’m still here. The Stranger nearly got me and Uncle Matarys, but we fought him off valiantly.” The poor thing calmed down but still had her head shoved in her father’s shoulder, hugging and not letting go of him. “ao quba non” he muttered. You poor thing.
Baelon walked over to the edge of the bed, his mother pulling him up to sit next to Valarr against the pillows, Valarr’s other arm going around his shoulders. Valarr’s darling wife sitting on the bed, facing the three of them.
Baelon looked exactly like his father, but in an opposite way. His hair was white with the dark auburn streak in the same place of his father’s white. His eyes were as if you placed a mirror to Valarr’s, Baelon’s left was the purple one and his right a hazel brown. Aemma was everything a Valyrian princess should be. Silver-gold locks flowing longer than you imagine for a girl of only three years, bright violet eyes, and skin as pale as milk.
Everyone at court praised Baelon’s looks, an heir that finally looked more Valyrian than his father. King Baelor II looked more like his mother, the Queen Mother Myriah Martell who was a Dornish princess. He was often mocked for his looks behind his back, talks of him being a bastard, similar to his father, the late King Daeron II, whose real father was rumored to be the Dragon Knight, Prince Aemon Targaryen. Valarr himself earned certain looks when he was born looking exactly like King Baelor II, the white streak in his hair at least made his Valyrian lineage prove to be true.
When Aemma was born, the court would not stop fawning over her, with Rhaegel’s two girls being fully grown and Maekar’s two being at Summerhall, Aemma was the first Targaryen Princess that the Keep at seen in many years. Her hair was so perfect that there were rumors that her father was truly Prince Aerion Targaryen, the second son of Valarr’s Uncle Maekar, the King’s youngest brother. It didn’t help that the night that Valarr and his wife suspect Aemma may have been conceived on was a night where Prince Maekar and his children visited for a celebratory tourney for King Daeron II and Queen Myriah’s wedding anniversary, so the timing lined up.
The rumors weren’t well known, the love that Valarr and his wife showed for each other proved that neither would every want to share a bed with another, especially Prince Aerion. It was common knowledge that Valarr’s wife was not a fan of him, she often made sure to never be in a room with him where she couldn’t be as far from him as possible. If Princess Aemma was conceived through Prince Aerion “Brightflame”, it would not have been with her consent.
“she’s been crying ever since you were out with fever, even more so since Great-grandfather passed”, Baelon told his father, “We were able to see Uncle Matarys a few days ago, he cheered her up a bit.”
Valarr chuckled at the mention of his little brother, a man nearly grown at 17, He was close with his niece and nephew since he was so young when they were born, he loves them dearly and plays with them when not in training. Valarr imagined him, barely recovered and congested, laughing with the children and making them smile, likely tickling little Aemma to keep her mind off of the world outside the bed chamber. A world she’s too young to understand.
“Ah, I see” Valarr said, “and how was your uncle?”
“He was pale and sleepy, but still funny,” sniffled Aemma, her voice muffled from still being cuddled by her father, Valarr chucked at her, pulling her back and wiping her tears that were half dried. “He was cleared for visitors just a day or so before your fever lifted, they were hoping to see you first, but Matarys helped give them more hope,” his wife said, “Your father is hoping to see you soon too, he’s held up in a small council meeting but should be done soon.”
“He visited us quite a bit while you were all sick, I think he could sense our unrest”, muttered little Baelon, resting his head on his father’s body behind him, “there isn’t much to sense when you two are constantly calling for your father or crying when you can’t see him”, his mother teased, pinching his cheek. Baelon moved her hand away, “I didn’t cry! I was brave! Aemma is the one who cries!” he said. Valarr laughed at his son, who was puffing his chest out, trying to look like a little hero with all his might while his mother laughs to herself, “I’m sure you were, my little prince,” he said, kissing Baelon’s head.
“Muña?” Aemma asked, “can you see how long until Kekepa gets here?”
“Kekepa is already here, byka zaldrizes”, King Baelor II said as the guard let him through the door to Prince Valarr’s chambers. “Kekepa!” Aemma cried as she hopped off of the bed to run into his arms, he crouched down as he picked her up. “Father,” Valarr greeted the new king, “how are you fairing?” he asked. Baelor had walked across the room to stand next to his eldest's bed, “The headaches are nearly gone for a while now and the wound is healing splendidly. But it’s you I’m here for, I’ve gotten to see Matarys, he is out getting fresh air in the gardens as we speak. How are you, my son?”
“Much better now that the fever is gone, even more so that I’m able to see you all again.” Valarr said, Baelor reached his hand down to place it on the back of Valarr’s head. “Thank the Gods,” he said, “The septas have barely been seen outside of the sept for weeks now, they’ve been praying for everyone who has gotten ill, even more so for the family.” He paused for a moment, “as I mourn my father, I’m grateful the Gods left me my sons. I believe I’m selfish enough to say that your mother doesn’t get to have you yet,” he patted Valarr before removing his hand, Valarr gave him a small smile. Baelor sat down in a chair next to the bed, little Aemma in his lap.
The King loves his grandson, Baelon, very much, but his heart melted the moment Aemma came. With three younger brothers and two sons, he was ecstatic to finally have a little girl to dote on.
“In better news, there are reports of the plague dying down. Less people dying, more recovering, and less contracting the illness. It seems to be the end of the Spring Sickness, that’s what they’ve decided to call all of this.”
“Dreadfully beautiful thing to call it, to think that something as happy as spring could be capable of bringing so much turmoil,” his good daughter said. “Correct you are, my dear,” he nodded. “In other news, Maekar and his children are coming to visit. They’ve come to mourn father and celebrate my rise as King. Poor Aemon won’t be able to come, young Maesters-in-training seldom leave Old Town before they complete their studies. But Daeron, Daella, Aegon, and Rhae are coming with him.”
“Are they bringing the tall man?” Baelon asked, rising up from the bed in excitement. He got to join the family at the Ashford Tourney, they saw it as a good way to introduce him to sights outside of the Keep for the first time. Dear Baelon was enthralled by Ser Duncan the Tall the moment he saw him in the tent of the puppeteers and was sad when he travelled with his cousins to Summerhall instead of King’s Landing when pledging his sword to House Targaryen. Baelor laughed at his grandson and said “yes, my boy. They are bringing Ser Duncan with them. They need someone to keep young Aegon from running off on another adventure. They departed Summerhall two days ago and should be arriving in a fortnight.”
“Yay!” Baelon cried, thrusting his arms into the air, almost hitting Valarr in the head while doing so. “Tall man! Tall man!” he shouted, not loud enough to startle anyone but loud enough that the guards outside the door could hear. “Ser Duncan, my love,” his mother corrected, “Ser Duncan! Ser Duncan!” he continued.
Valarr laughed at his eldest as he paraded himself around the room chanting his excitement for the large knight. “You would think he was more excited about seeing his cousins than a knight he only met once, but the mind of a boy of 5 is a strange one,” Baelor laughed and got up from the chair, setting Aemma down as she ran to her big brother, following him around in his parade. “I’m going to see if I can corral your brother up to see if he is up for having a family dinner once you’re feeling more on your feet. I apologize for getting Baelon so riled up this late in the day, I know it’s nearly bedtime for these two.”
Baelon stopped in his tracks, poor Aemma nearly falling after bumping into him. “What? But how are we supposed to go to bed when father is finally awake? There’s so much to talk to him about!” he said, Aemma nodding her head next to him. “You can with the anticipation of getting a full day with him tomorrow, now come tell your father goodnight before going back to the nursery. And before you two start, don’t act like I didn’t see you to yawning and nearly drifting off while we were talking,” their mother said as she got up and took Aemma into her arms and placed her hand on Baelon’s back. The children whined in retaliation but went with her, hugged their father, and left with their grandfather to escort them back to the children’s room.
Once the children were in their chambers, Valarr and his love had been prepared for bed. He looked at her from the bed as she brushed her hair at her vanity in her nightgown, a thin robe wrapped around her. He couldn’t help but feel a huge weight drifting off of him.
Relief, he was feeling relief.
It wasn’t relief of not dying, he thought. While the fever was hot, he would drift in and out of sleep. He would have dreams while he was out every once in a while. He dreamt of his mother, his childhood, and everything that lead to where he was currently. It was his life, he realized in his haze. His life was ending, his mind was preparing him to let go of his life here. He could barely remember it once he woke up, but he does now. He remembered seeing a vision of meeting her for the first time, it was during a feast in celebration of the turn of the year.
He was sitting at the large table with the rest of his family, a boy of 16 with an 11-year-old Matarys sitting next to him talking about a new bug he acquired for his collection earlier that day. He looked up from his brother’s rambling to see what he could only describe as a woman who was the Maiden herself. She was sitting at a table with the rest of her house, leaning in to listen to a fellow member, another young woman, perhaps a younger sister or cousin. After a few seconds, the ethereal creature looked up at him, her eyes glowing in the candlelight.
They locked eyes and could barely look away, until he finally got the courage to get up and ask her to dance. And when they started, they could barely stop. They danced on and on, at the ire of the other young ladies who wanted a chance to sway the Young Prince into marrying them instead.
They married within the year and introduced Baelon before the turn of the next one.
When she was done brushing her hair, she went to lay with him in bed, removing her robe before reaching for the candle to blow it out. “Wait,” he said, she looked at him in question. “Why?” she questioned, “it’s growing quite late, are you not tired?”
“I just wish to see your face a few minutes more,” he said simply, “I wasn’t sure when I’d see it again, we haven’t shared a bed since before I was sick. I’ve missed you dearly, wife.”
“Well, whatever you’re thinking, I suggest we wait a few days since you’re still recovering,” she teased.
Valarr sighed and leaned his head against the headboard, “I was sick, not injured, my love.” She chuckled and got in bed, sitting up with him under the covers. They looked at each other in silence as she reached a hand up to run her fingers in his hair. She looked into her husband’s eyes as her own began to water. His soft gaze turned into a worried one, “my love?” he asked. The tears fell as she wrapped him into her arms. He pulled her onto his lap, straddling him as she hid her face in his neck. She felt his arms tighten around her, one around her waist and another running a hand up and down her back, trying to soothe her ache. The sound of her soft cries pained him more than he could say.
“My love, please tell me what ails you, tell me how to take it away” he begged softly, his face in her hair, smelling the sweet aroma of the oils from her bath. After a few minutes, she calmed down enough to lean back to look at him, her hands resting at the back of his head. Her left hand tracing his silver streak, silence once again finding itself between them. He placed his hands on her face and wiped her tears away softly. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, sniffling, “I’m so sorry.” She covered her face with her hands, looking down and away from him. He shook his head, reaching up to take her hands in his. “No, it’s alright, love. It’s alright” he said softly.
Their hands settled in between them in their laps, he leaned in to kiss her on the forehead, “please”, he whispers, and then her nose, “please, talk to me.”
She sniffled and looked up at him, “I almost lost you,” she said so quietly he almost didn’t hear her. “I almost lost you, the children nearly lost the father they love, along with the uncle they hold so dear. They almost lose their grandfather, and shortly after lost their great-grandsire, and that alone devastated them, I can’t even begin to think what would have happened if you—” she cut herself with another sob, she pulled herself together, and looked at him to see his own eyes watering. “I don’t think I could bear it. I don’t think I ever could. To see you laying there, delirious and ill, it nearly broke me. Please, never scare me like that again, never again.”
“Never,” he said, “never if I can stop it. The Gods themselves shall have to pry me from the arms of my wife and children, the ones we have and the ones of the future. I shall never part from you,” he pledged while leaning in for a kiss.
They held each other in their arms until morning, placing soft kisses upon each other in the warm rays of the morning sun.
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A/N: this was so fun! Now I can focus on Blackbar!reader in peace. This was posted in a slight rush because my fiancé went to bed about 20 minutes ago and I can feel him about to call me, GOOD NIGHT
