hello and welcome to my list of masterlists for all of the fandoms that i write for! i'm so happy to hear you all enjoy my work! thank you for checking out some of my other pieces as well.
the god of war x reader fandom REALLY showed up in my latest post, so..
i'm pleased to say i'm gonna open up some requests again for it! i've been missing god of war a lot lately and seeing so many people still around makes me so happy.
please feel free to send some things in! it might take me some time since i've been really busy lately, but i'm happy to do some requests :)
heyyyy guys. does the god of war x reader fandom still exist? with the release for the god of war laufey trailer.. i've been thinking about these games a lot again
summary: tragedy strikes the ashford tourney. your relationship with valarr deepens while in the throes of grief.
tags: sfw, semi-canon compliant (valarr is not married), no use of y/n, angst, hurt/comfort, canon character death
author's note: i wrote this chapter in one sitting. i felt super inspired after last night (and opinions about the fates of our beloved dilfs from you all), that i wanted to update as soon as i could. i'm actually pretty pleased with this chapter, and i think the ending is really sweet in spite of all of the sadness and angst here. i hope you all enjoy!
previous
Prince Baelor Targaryen was dead.
You were not sure how long it had been since you had told Valarr to stay. You'd sat with him in silence, the air hanging tensely above you as you stared out over the empty tents ahead of you. The trial itself was too far for you to hear. You were thankful for that. You didn't think that you could stomach the sound of people cheering while your father fought for his life.
There was real risk in what he was doing. The men he fought against would do anything to protect their prince. Even if it meant killing someone.
You chewed at your lip, hands clasped together in your lap as you wordlessly watched the banner of House Ashford flap in the wind in the distance. How could anyone have anticipated this? You knew that this certainly wasn't what you'd expected once you'd arrived. You were imagining a normal tournament. Jousting, feasts.. gatherings.. suitors. Once it was all over, you would leave and return to the Arbor as if nothing had happened at all. You knew now that this would be practically impossible to forget.
Guards wearing the three headed dragon of House Targaryen on their breastplate came to find Valarr. Their expressions were solemn and nigh unreadable, which only left a sense of dread in your chest. He'd been holding onto your hand for most of the time he'd been sitting with you. His thumb would run over the back of it, and then his fingers would entwine with yours. He'd squeeze your hand and sit with you quietly, heavy hearts beating in sync.
"Come with me," Valarr had said softly, his gaze revealing all of his anxieties. You couldn't tell him no. If the looks on the faces of his guards told you anything.. it meant that something had went horribly wrong. You trailed after him and his entourage quietly, glancing around in hopes of finding your father in the chaos of the crowd that had disbanded after the end of the trial.
You found nothing other than stares.
House Targaryen had been given the honor and pleasure of staying inside of House Ashford's ancestral castle. It didn't surprise you at all. They were the royal family, and it only made sense for them to be given adequate housing. The walls were tall, gray and relatively colorless save for the occasional banner.
You'd never been around so many members of his family before. You had only met Aerion, and all the others seemed like giants. House Targaryen seemed untouchable by most. Even if you were a noble lady, House Redwyne was never particularly entwined with their goings on. You stuck out like a sore thumb next to Valarr in the purple of your house, but he kept you close to his side regardless.
You weren't sure who had told him. You were stopped by a few guards outside of another room, while Valarr was let inside. You couldn't hear the conversation very well through the wall. The only way you knew what had transpired inside was the look on his face once he'd left. His eyes were unblinking. They'd lost the light they usually carried within them. His hands were shaking, his shoulders rising and falling with each unsteady breath he took.
Prince Baelor was dead.
You'd heard whispers about what had happened to him as you walked through the halls of the castle and back outside and into the warm air of the meadow. "Prince Maekar killed him," you heard a maid say, "they said he was jealous of his brother, and he wanted him gone."
"It was an accident." You heard another argue. "Who'd do that on purpose?"
"I heard he was unrecognizable." Someone else added. "His head was already in pieces once they managed to get the helmet off. His son's helmet."
It took everything in you to keep walking.
Valarr did not cry. He kept his head forward, unable to force himself to even look at you. Your heart ached. This loss was nothing short of a tragedy. Baelor Targaryen was heir to the Iron Throne, and Hand of the King. He was good, he was kind and noble.. just like your own father. You wondered if the Gods would be so cruel as to take him from you, too.
He never told you to leave him, and so you remained as his side as he walked further and further away from the tournament. Guards did not follow him. Gazes lingered upon him—the new heir to the Iron Throne— but no one dared to speak to him yet. Most looks were filled with anguish of their own. Sadness, or perhaps pity. You could hardly tell the difference.
Valarr stopped in a clearing. You couldn't be too far away from Ashford, as when you looked over your shoulder in the direction you came you could still see the tents and castle in the distance. Even from this far away, it looked like a dire event. How could it have changed so much? You didn't have the slightest idea.
The prince sat down on a fallen log, his hands brushing against the fabric of his clothing. You joined him. You sat closer to him than you ever had before, your shoulder brushing against his as you attempted to make yourself comfortable. You could've never imagined being in this scenario. What could you say to comfort him?
"Your father lives. A.. maester is looking at him now." Valarr breathed out, staring at the trees. The wind blew through the leaves and your hair, pushing your hair into your face. As selfish as it was, you felt relief seep through your bones at his words. "My uncle told me, before.." he pursed his lips together. His eyes were red, even despite his lack of tears. You couldn't ask him to finish his sentence. You couldn't even begin to imagine how he felt.
"I am so sorry." You finally said. You looked down at his hand, shaking against his knee. After a moment's hesitation, you took it into his own. You did with him just as he did with you. Rubbed your thumb against his skin, and the tangled your fingers together. He nodded, but otherwise said nothing in response. Now that you were alone, it looked as though he was close to crying. You said nothing about that, and instead only leaned closer to him.
"I should have.. tried harder." He forced himself to say. His shoulders were slumped. Never had you seen him so defeated. "No," you whispered back to him, shaking your head. "Valarr.. this is not your fault." You reassured him.
He finally glanced at you, sharply sucking in a breath through parted lips. "He died in my armor." He told you.
You knew that was true already. He'd told you that when you were sitting together, before you asked him to stay. You let out a breath, your other hand coming to rest on his arm.
"This is not your fault." You repeated, unable to find the words to say to comfort him further. What was there to say in this situation? Baelor's death was unexpected by all. How could he have known what would happen?
"I had a.. horrible feeling." Valarr continued. As you looked at him, you could see how his lip trembled. "I should have.. I should have—"
"Valarr.." you whispered.
"No," he replied, turning his head to abruptly look at you for the first time since the news. "There was more I could have done. I know it. I should have fought in his stead. I should have refused to give him my armor. I should have.."
You bit your lip, your gaze flickering back and forth between his eyes. Blue and brown.. blue and brown, over and over again.
"I'm sorry."
"For what?" You murmured, rubbing your thumb into his arm in soothing circles.
"You asked for none of this."
"If I did not wish to be here, I would have left." You told him quickly. He stared back at you, tears welling up in his eyes that he attempted to blink away. He took in a breath, shaky yet heavy, and nodded.
"Your father.. he would not have let you fight." You continued after a pause, adjusting yourself to turn to face him head on. "If you had not given your armor.. I am sure he could have found another." You told him softly. It would be difficult to hear, but you knew he needed the truth.
"The Gods are cruel." Valarr said.
You nodded. You had no argument, and you found yourself agreeing with his words entirely. The Gods— fate— was cruel.
Life is not fair, you heard your father say. And the Gods are cruel, you added on. Cruel for ripping a father from his son. Cruel for forcing him into a world without him.
"Yes.. they are." You agreed.
You heard him sniffle from next to you, and when you turned your focus to his face, you could see tears running down his cheeks.
The Gods are cruel.
You squeezed his hand, and leaned into his side. He turned to face you, his eyes lingering on your face before he took you into his arms and into a hug. He held you tightly, almost as if he were worried that you would disappear if he were to let go. You returned it as best you could, your arms wrapped around him. His face found its way into the crook of your neck, and he buried it there. He made no effort to move, and he finally let himself break down.
You couldn't find any words to say to comfort him, and so all you could do was hold him as he wept into your neck. Hot tears met your skin, but you made no effort to move. Your hands ran over his back, and his fingers dug into the back of your dress. He pulled you closer and closer, his grip like iron.
You didn't know how long you had been sitting there with him. He pulled away, but he didn't let you go. He looked at you, face pink and stained with tears. "I will be king," he whispered through a sob. "I am heir to.. to the Iron Throne." His shoulders shook. It sounded like complete disbelief. So much had changed for him in such a short amount of time. You frowned, lifting a hand to brush his hair from his eyes.
"I don't.. I don't want that." Valarr told you.
"That's okay." You said. "You don't have to."
"I.. I am not ready. It should be my father. He will be— he would have been— a good king. The greatest. Better than Jaehaerys and Aegon the Conqueror and.. all of the rest of them."
"I know." You whispered back to him, your hand falling from his hair to caress his jaw. "And you.. you are much like your father, Valarr."
His gaze snapped to yours, his brows knitted together. "No. No," he shook his head. "I am not.. not like him. He is more of a man than I ever will be." He argued.
"You are both good. Honorable, noble men. Kind men. How many can say the same?" You retorted. "You will be a good king. Do not.. do not worry about something that has not yet come to pass, Valarr. You will only harm yourself thinking that way."
He squeezed his eyes closed, tears slipping down warm cheeks as he did so. He opened them again to look at you. "I am not ready."
"You don't have to be."
He swallowed. He took in a breath, slow and deep, in an attempt to calm himself down. "I.. will never be." He told you, his voice cracking.
".. That's okay, too." You assured.
His lips parted.
"I am sorry you.. saw me like this." Valarr spoke through the silence. "It is unbecoming."
"Unbecoming?" You repeated. "No, it isn't. You.. have experienced a great loss. I wished to comfort you. To.. be there for you. I did not have to come with you."
".. Thank you." He told you, his eyes finding yours. "I'm not sure what I've done to.. deserve you."
You managed a small smile. "You have been yourself."
He chuckled, lifting his hand to wipe the tears from his face.
You fell silent again. The chirping of birds, and the sound of the wind blowing filled your ears. You looked up towards the sky. The clouds were clearing, and you could finally see a bit of blue through the gray. You leaned into Valarr's side. His arm wrapped around your middle, and his head fell against you own.
"I should marry you." He murmured, thumb rubbing your side.
"What?"
"I should marry you." He replied. His voice sounded completely serious. Usually, you could tell when he was being playful.
"You hardly know me."
"I know that you are good. Kind. Gentle. You.. came all the way out here just to comfort me. You treat me as if I am a person. Not just a prince." Valarr said as if it were the simplest thing in the world.
You glanced at the muddied grass beneath your feet. You doubted that he meant it. He was grieving the loss of his father, and that wound was fresh. You pursed your lips together and took in a deep breath.
"I mean it." He continued after a moment. "I.. will need to wed. If I must, I'd like to marry a good woman."
You shook your head, pulling back from him just enough to see his face. "This is sudden. Surely, you.. you don't mean this."
"Perhaps I am being a fool. But.. you know of my interest." He said your name sweetly, red eyes finding your own. "I asked for your favor. I came to visit you whenever I could. I.. there is no one else I'd wish to spend my life with."
"You don't know me, Valarr."
"I'd like to." He said. It was the same thing he told you the day after you met him. The same day he'd asked you for your favor at the joust. "Most marriages.. they come from nothing. Many don't meet their future wife or husband until the day of the wedding itself. Maybe I don't know you. But I know enough."
I know enough. He'd said that too, in a conversation somewhat reminiscent of this one.
It felt wrong to discuss something like this so soon after the death of his father. You wondered if Baelor would like you. It was said that he liked most people. He was always said to be a kind, warm-hearted man. That would've made him a good king.
You stared at him. His expression didn't falter. He wasn't crying anymore, though the remnants of his tears lingered on his features. His cheeks were pink and his eyes were bloodshot, but the look on his face told you he was nothing but genuine.
Marrying Valarr.. many ladies would love nothing else. You suspected that you knew him better than most ladies, too. He was right about most not meeting their betrothed until the wedding. Wouldn't it be better to marry someone you knew, even if it was only slightly? Wasn't it better to marry someone who you knew was kind, rather than wait and marry a cruel one later?
"Is this too hasty?" You whispered.
"I'm not.. asking for a marriage right now." Valarr said, his voice soft. "Only.. I think you should be the one. When the time comes." He explained. "I'd like to court you properly." He added on after a pause, a playful glint in his eye that you didn't think you'd see again so soon.
You chuckled, though his words did manage to make your face heat up. You managed a smile.
".. Okay. When the time comes." You repeated.
He smiled back at you, pressing his forehead to your own.
Perhaps you were foolish for this. You couldn't find it within yourself to care. Not right now.
Marriage was the future. This moment— this embrace— this was now. You closed your eyes, and leaned into Valarr's touch.
notes: wc is ~2.7k, so a bit shorter than normal but i think it works well with the content of this chapter. i expect some more parts, but probably not more than two or so? unless something else comes up that i want to expand on, maybe!
anyway, sorry this took so long to post! i've been super busy lately, but i'm hoping you all enjoy! i really liked adding all of the callbacks to previous chapters and conversations. i thought it was sweet :')
tags: @luvweezer @glitchinmatrixx @ladyhesperus @7775sblog @th3d1n0r3ad3r @theoriginalwifeofhanjumin @gotham-lady @oscarisdaddy69 @bloumourn @rebeccawinters @jellyfrogz @nixtape-foryou @lauramooij05 @pinkraindropsfell @valarrsgirl @crimsonvaporterminus @rakilein @thaliasnicket @smilefortae @yohanseyebrowmole @leclrchalamet @enchantingyouthbluebird @mrsjohnnysuh @adr14anna @al4storfan @hadesnumber1daughter @jellyfrogz @sleepy-time @read-just-cant-stop @deliciousfestsalad @high-speed-r @ninaaaaa2007 @boundandbrews @rakilein (let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series, and i'm sorry if i missed anyone)!
hello world.... i'm making a return to this blog solely to write for resident evil LMFAOOO
i'm looking for some requests. i'll write for most characters, but if you have any particular questions don't be afraid to ask. i usually prefer to write fluff/angst, but i will do smut if i feel inspired!
request: i am curious about what you think about my boy valarr and his fiancé <33 + could you make like...a headcanon or wharever about our prince valarr as a husband? I just know he would be the best
type: headcanons / drabbles (tbh.. sorta a one shot)
tags: sfw, semi canon compliant (valarr is not married), mostly fluff, some angst (revolving around childbirth and the loss of children/stillbirths), yearning, arranged marriage (but they fall in love), no use of y/n
author's note: decided to combine two requests into one for this! thank you @wooceanic and @schizophrenic-batman for sending them in!!! (and sorry this took so long). no house or appearance descriptions here!
You knew you were to marry Valarr for some time.
You'd heard little about the prince, the heir to the heir of the Iron Throne. You only knew that his father was Prince Baelor. You didn't know what he looked like, or what his personality was. You could only hope that he was nothing like his cousins, Prince Maekar's sons. You'd heard that his oldest was a drunkard, and another of his sons was cruel. But surely something had to be wrong with Valarr.
The lack of information you had about him made you nervous. You supposed anyone would be, in the face of a marriage to someone you didn't know and had never met.
You tried to stay positive.
You met him in King's Landing, a few months before your wedding. You'd come to the city to get accustomed to the royal court, and you were thankful that you weren't going to be thrown head first into an entirely new life without any preparation. Besides.. You'd have plenty of time to devise a plan to run away if Valarr proved to be an evil man.
You were standing next to your father, and speaking to Prince Baelor. The older prince seemed kind, with gentle eyes and a kind touch when he'd shaken your hand. You hoped Valarr was like this. At home, your friends had spoken of their own arranged marriages with disdain. You didn't want to end up like that.
Valarr was beautiful.
You remembered seeing him for the first time, at a dinner held to celebrate your arrival to king's landing. If you'd met him anywhere else, you wouldn't have guessed that he was a Targaryen prince at all. Save for the streak of white hair going through a sea of brown, he looked.. almost normal, save for his otherworldly beauty.
He'd come to you with a polite smile. He took your hand, and pressed his lips to your knuckles. Your face was hot, and your chest was aching as you stared back up at him. He greeted you warmly. Your name sounded natural when it came off of his tongue.
His mismatched eyes stood out to you, but all they did was make him look even more handsome. You had no idea of what he looked like before, but you worried that he would be an ugly, cruel man. Instead, you were faced with the opposite.
Valarr sat next to you at the dinner, making small talk when he could. He'd asked you about where you grew up. The things you did for fun. Your family. He spoke little about your engagement, though you could only assume that it weighed on his mind just as much as it did yours.
He sat next to you then, and at every other gathering that followed. He'd always welcome you with a smile and a kiss to your hand. His lips were soft against your skin, but his gaze was even softer. He didn't look at you harshly. He'd never stared at you like you were something for him to claim. Whenever he looked at you, all you felt was warmth.
It scared you, at first. It wouldn't be surprising if he was polite and kind in front of a crowd, but how would he be when it was just the two of you alone? He seemed alright now, but you couldn't help the worry that seeped through your heart as your wedding day approached.
Valarr never changed in his behavior towards you.
You worried about appearing as immodest when he'd invited you for a walk through the red keep's gardens a few weeks after you'd arrived. A lady alone with her future husband.. It surely would not reflect well on you. He reassured you that it was alright, and that your walk would be just that. A walk. He'd looked at you so sweetly then, you found that it was hard to say no to him.
He kept a respectful distance from you, though sometimes his shoulder would brush against you as you walked together. It was simple, but wonderful.
"I wish to know you," he'd told you that night. "You are to be my wife, yes.. But I wish to know you."
He surprised you with those words. How many men wished to know their future wives? You remembered blinking back at him, speechless. He laughed, then. It was a beautiful sound. Light and real.
You watched as he glanced around, and only when he knew the two of you were truly alone did he take your hand into his. It was the first time he'd touched you so boldly. He assured you of his words being true, his thumb rubbing against the back of your hand. You believed him.
He remained just as kind through the next few weeks. Valarr continued to get to know you, though every time you'd sit together you swore he had inched just a bit closer than before. You didn't move away. You didn't think that you wanted to.
You'd been alone together plenty of times by now. Still in public places where anyone could see, but Valarr had not changed at all. He'd shown no signs of being evil at all. You thought that it was too good to be true, but it seemed real. How could you have gotten so lucky?
Your wedding came quicker than you expected, and before you knew it, you were standing in your dress.
Your father escorted you to Valarr. Your bride's cloak was heavy over your shoulders. Your heart pounded so loud you could hear it in your ears.
Valarr looked.. Regal, but still himself. Still handsome. He wore his house's colors. He looked at you with such warmth in his eyes that it nearly made you melt. He smiled at you, and you returned it with one of your own.
He removed your cloak, and draped another with his colors over your shoulders in its place.
"With this kiss, I pledge my love." Valarr said. His eyes did not stay from you, even for a moment.
"With this kiss, I pledge my love." you repeated after him. You did not wish to look away from him. You couldn't. You could hardly believe that this was real. You were marrying him.
You barely heard the septon over the sound of your own heart.
Valarr kissed you then. It was short, but tender. His hand came to caress your jaw, angling your head up slightly. His thumb ran across your skin, and you swore you could feel him smile against your lips. Valarr took your hand, and pulled you to his side.
"Finally," he murmured, just loud enough for only you to hear. "I don't have to hide."
You felt your cheeks heat up even further. Had he been looking forward to being affectionate with you? The mere thought of it flustered you. He'd always lingered close to you before the wedding, but he'd barely touched you. People could always see, and if they were to see, they would talk about it. Now, what could they say?
You squeezed his hand, a breath escaping from your lips.
You barely remembered the feast that followed. You remembered Prince Baelor taking your hands, congratulating you, and then hugging you. Valarr was much like his father. You remembered worrying about him being the opposite the day you'd met him.
The bedding was expected to take place that night. You returned to your bedchambers. It was an entirely new room to you. Far closer to the rest of Valarr's family. Your family now too, you supposed.
You were prepared for it. To do your duty as his wife. To give him an heir.
You weren't expecting for him to lay with you, hands gently caressing your sides, his face buried into your hair. "Could stay like this forever," Valarr muttered into your skin.
This was the first time you had ever truly been alone. Away from prying eyes.
"What about—?"
"About?"
"The.. bedding."
He opened his eyes, pulling his head back enough to look at you. "My wife.. we have all the time in the world." Valarr spoke softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your jaw.
You blinked. If he were any other man, you knew, he would be all over you. Your friends from home, and even some of the other ladies at court, had all told you that. Their husbands had barely waited for the door to close before they had began undressing their wives.
Though here he was, your husband, completely content with spending the night in your arms.
".. Alright." you replied after a long pause. You did have plenty of time. A child could come later. This night was entirely about the two of you.
Valarr was an attentive husband. No matter where you were, you were always his first priority. He would notice whenever you were hurting. Whenever you were uncomfortable. He'd offer to leave, and insist that his wife was more important than whatever he'd been doing before. You felt guilty, pulling him away from his responsibilities, but Valarr had always made it known that you were his first priority.
He was almost always touching you. His hand in your own. His hand against the small of your back. His arm wrapped around yours. His touches were always subtle, but they were there. In private, he became far more affectionate.
He enjoyed holding you. You'd be wrapped up in his arms, his fingers running through the strands of your hair as he breathed you in. Sometimes, you'd lay against his chest, and he'd just.. Admire you. How could he have gotten so lucky with a woman as wonderful as you?
This marriage was not made from love. Though he knew he loved you.
He would always make time for you. Though his duties as a prince and heir to the heir kept him busy, there was never a day where you didn't see him.
He loves kissing you. He's obsessed with it. He'll kiss every part of you that he can reach. In more public settings, he'll kiss your forehead. His hands would hold your face, and he'd press his lips to the crown of your head. He was always so gentle, and reluctant to let you go.
Sometimes, he'd sneak a kiss on your lips around the red keep or before a meeting. It would be quick, but Valarr would let himself linger for a few seconds before pulling away. He'd tuck your hair behind your ear and utter a cheesy compliment before he let you walk away, and then he would watch you leave. His wife was the most beautiful woman in all of the seven kingdoms— no, the world.
You'd come to be close with Matarys. His little brother would absolutely adore you, though he'd probably tease you about how clearly infatuated with Valarr you were. You'd also spend plenty of time with his father, Prince Baelor, who would quickly come to see you as a daughter. He'd look after you, too.. And would always smile whenever he saw you with his son. The sight of it would remind him of Jena and himself, when they were younger.
One day, Baelor would tell you that he was glad the two of you were so in love with each other. Before you came along, Valarr was never too excited about the prospect of getting married. He thought of it all as a reminder of the future. That, one day, he would be king. Baelor had told you that he seemed happier. That it seemed easier for him to accept, now that he had you.
You didn't know what to say back to him. Valarr had never been shy about his affections towards you, but he had not told you that he loved you— let alone that he was in love with you. It was a big step.. Even if you were technically married already. Love was different.
Valarr said it first. It came quietly, in a moment of peace where you were wrapped up in his arms after a long day of meetings and arrangements. He had his arms around your middle, holding you as close as he could. His buried his face into your neck, pressing gentle kisses across your skin there. "I love you," he whispered. He hadn't realized he'd said it at all.
You froze, your fingers running across his back faltering for a moment. You smiled, relaxing further into his touch and warm embrace. "I love you, too." You said back to him. You felt him grin against your skin, still kissing your neck.
From then on, he would say it every day. In the morning, when you'd first get up. At night, before you went to sleep. He'd tell you before going to see his father. Before Matarys dragged him off to do something. He would always find an opportunity to tell you he loved you.
Eventually, you did fall pregnant. You were always scared of childbirth. You knew of the dangers of it, but the thought of becoming a mother to a child with Valarr.. you felt happy. You hoped the little one would look like him. With his eyes, and his hair.
Somehow, he had become more attentive with you. As soon as he found out you were with child, it would be almost impossible to pull him from your side. Even in the early months of your pregnancy, when things mostly remained the same, he would worry about leaving you alone. You knew he was excited to become a father, and watching him only made you more eager for the day the babe would come.
As you moved further along, usually simple tasks became much harder for you. Your belly was far too large for you to do most things, and even walking was sometimes a chore. Valarr would keep next to you, holding onto your hand to steady you. Though you had plenty of servants to help you, it was usually him who got you everything you wanted. The chefs in the kitchen had quickly grown accustomed to seeing their prince.
When your labor began, you had never experienced such pain. You tried to reason that it would all be worth it when you heard the child cry after it was over, but you could hardly focus on it when every muscle felt like it was on fire. You were surrounded by ladies and midwives, trying to keep you calm and breathing, when your husband forced himself into your room. He'd joined you at your side. He let you squeeze his hand as tightly as you needed to as you pushed, and—
The child was beautiful. A son.
The midwives tried to get him to cry, but the noise never came. You could hardly hear them say it, but your heart dropped into your stomach as you looked at your son through blurry vision. A woman handed you the baby. He was a little thing, with brown hair to match his fathers. His eyes were closed, and you could not see their color. You hoped they matched Valarr's.
You could not cry. You didn't know if you were too exhausted to, or that perhaps you knew that it was coming. You felt him kick while he was in your stomach plenty of times. You'd made jokes that he was going to be a strong boy only a few weeks ago. How had your life changed so much? Every ounce of joy you felt— of excitement— faded away in an instant.
Next to you, Valarr sobbed. You could only let him hold his son. He kept the boy close to his chest, unable to pull his eyes away from him. You had never seen him so upset.
"I am sorry," you whispered, finally breaking the silence that should've never excited in the first place.
"What?"
"I.. have failed you. I should have.. been able to give you a son." You breathed out, your eyes finally welling up with tears you didn't think you were even able to cry.
"No," he spoke quickly, shaking his head. "You did not.. did not fail. We have a son." He told you, glancing back at the boy in his arms. You stared at the child. He looked like a complete copy of his father.
"He is.. he is not living." You forced out.
"But he is.. here. We have a son." Valarr insisted.
You sniffled. He climbed into your bed with you, pulling you against his side.
"You have not failed." He said again. You couldn't argue with him. Instead, all you could do was cry. Valarr held you in one arm, and your son in the other.
You vowed that you would give him a healthy child. Plenty of ladies give birth to children who don't live long, or at all. Others do not even make it to labor. It wasn't just you. It happened all the time. You tried to reassure yourself. It would be alright.
After that, Valarr remained closer to your side. It was hard to find you without him before, but now it was nearly impossible. He worried for your health if you were to have another pregnancy, and so he wished to wait until he thought that you were both ready. Even if that time never came. He didn't want to risk your life. He didn't ever want to remarry. If it meant being unable to have children to keep you at his side, that was what it would take.
Fights with him were rare. Whenever you did argue, he would always apologize first. They were never about anything serious, and he would feel bad after you'd walk away. He'd chase after you and apologize practically immediately. He was good at communicating with you, and found it important.. especially since you didn't have any choice in getting married to each other. Even if he wouldn't change it.
Your marriage, though arranged, did become one of love. Valarr could never imagine being with anyone else.
For all of your fears about Valarr— about who he was behind closed doors— he proved himself to be kind. He was genuine and loving. Warm-hearted, thoughtful, and reassuring.. understanding. Everything you had ever wanted in a husband.
You still wondered how you managed to get so lucky.
notes: wc is around 3.1k words. a lot longer than i expected this to be, but i'm happy with it. i wasn't expecting to add any angst in this either, but i think the loss of children is pretty important to valarr's character.. and who doesn't love some angst?
anyway, sorry this took me literally forever. i've been so busy.. and i've been playing resident evil LOL. i'll be busy for most of this week, but i'm hoping to at least start working on some requests later today. hopefully you all enjoyed this one!! thanks for the love on all of my writing <3
iii might actually make a return to this blog..... i'm wanting to keep @valarricent solely asoiaf content, but.. this was always my video game writing blog.. thoughts on me writing some resident evil stuff? i finished re9 and i'm itching to write for it.
summary: the redwyne tent has a visitor, and your father agrees to do something dangerous. you share a vulnerable moment with the young prince, valarr.
tags: sfw, semi-canon compliant (valarr is not married), no use of y/n
author's note: hi everyone! sorry it took me forever to get this part posted. i've had a lot going on lately, and i wanted to wait until i had the time to sit down and write something i actually liked and thought was good enough. i hope you all enjoy!
previous
You ended the night the same as you did the last.
You walked back to the Redwyne pavilion alone. You crawled into your bed, nuzzled up under your furs, and stared up at the ceiling. You weren't met with warm thoughts of the prince you met in the woods. Your heart was filled with dread. You could feel the ghost of Aerion's lips against your skin, but it did not bring you any happiness. You were sure other ladies would feel ecstatic at the thought of not one but two princes of House Targaryen showing an interest in them. You could not feel any sort of excitement.
You liked Valarr, for what it was worth. It had not been long since you met him, but there was something about him that made you happy. The way he looked at you. The kindness he showed. The feeling of his hand in your own. His fingers were not particularly rough, but you could tell he had spent years training with sword and lance. Still, his touch was gentle and warm and reassuring. With Valarr, you felt comfortable.
Aerion invoked the opposite feeling within you. He had looked at you in the same manner nearly all of your former suitors did. They would look down at you— think of you as something less. Like property to own, and not a woman to love. He did not see you as a woman, you knew. He thought of you only as Valarr's. A woman to be stolen and taken for himself. He was doing it solely because he could. Not because he truly wanted you.
You forced your eyes closed, but sleep could not come easy with the weight of that realization on your chest.
Perhaps you should avoid the Cockleswhent. It was a thought that felt foolish to entertain, but if you hadn't been at the stream.. you wouldn't have met Valarr. If you hadn't met him, he wouldn't have wished to ask for your favor. If he hadn't, Aerion wouldn't have cornered you. A part of you doubted that it would have stopped him. A prince would always get what he wanted, even if what he wanted was someone else.
You turned in bed for what felt like days. It could not have been more than an hour or two, but your mind could not seem to slow for even a moment. You were still glad to have met Valarr, you thought. Even if it meant all of this business with Aerion. Valarr was good. That was what mattered. Little men like his cousin wanted only attention. He would get it.. but not from you, you decided. You would remain cordial, but you refused to give in to him.
You heard rustling from outside of your quarters.. and then talking. The words were muffled through the fabric of the tent, but it was still loud enough to keep you awake. You were almost grateful to hear something. Something to distract you from your own thoughts. Even if it came at the expense of precious hours of sleep before the jousting resumed in the morning.
You groaned as you sat up in bed, rubbing the exhaustion from your eyes as you rose onto your feet. You'd changed into a comfortable nightgown. Thin and breathable, but still modest enough for a lady of your status. You peeked out of your quarters and into the main, private section of the Redwyne tent. Your fathers sleeping space was close to your own. A guard remained posted at the entrance to your room, but he did not even turn to look at you.
The young man's gaze was focused on something else. You followed it, and your eyes landed on a young boy. Bald.. he could not be older than nine or ten. He sat across from your father, his hands folded over his lap as he sat in a chair far too big for him. You squinted. The colors on his doublet.. red and black. The colors of the dragon house. You nearly sighed at even the sight of it. What could have possibly happened now?
You tried to lean closer in an attempt to listen to their conversation. Your fathers arms rested on the table, his jaw clenched together.
"There will be a Trial of Seven." The boy— the prince— said.
"A Trial of Seven?" Your father repeated.
The little prince's head bobbed. He looked nervous. Scared. "My brother, Aerion. He attacked an innocent puppeteer earlier this evening. He broke her finger." He explained.
Your father's eyes narrowed, and he shifted in his seat. You searched through your memory for information on the Trial of Seven. It was an old practice. You knew that from your studies. Though the specific details of it were lost on you. You thought one had happened over a hundred years ago, but you could not remember the participants. You supposed it wouldn't be very helpful.
"Ser Duncan the Tall— he protected the innocent, as every true knight should. He punched Aerion, and then kicked him. He is injured, but his injuries are not so severe." He told your father.
"Who?" Your father asked, brows furrowed.
You couldn't recall the name of the knight either.
"He is a noble hedge knight." He offered simply.
Your father blinked. "He.. what?"
"Ser Duncan needs six other men to fight with him in the trial against my brother and his six." The prince continued, completely brushing over your father's words. He sat just a little straighter in the chair. "I.. have come to ask if you would fight for him."
"Me?"
The prince nodded again.
Your father chuckled, shaking his head. "I stopped fighting a long time ago, little one." He breathed out.
"You were a great knight. A great jouster."
"I was." He agreed.
"But you won't fight for him?"
He sighed. His hand pressed into his knee, his thumb rubbing circles against the fabric of his pants. "A Trial of Seven.. that means fight until death or surrender."
"It does." The prince confirmed.
Your father wet his lips, staring off at the ceiling above him. "How many do you have?" He asked.
".. One."
He turned his head to look back at him. "One?" He repeated.
"Two.. if you join us. I have others to ask, I.. haven't gotten to them yet."
"Seven help us," your father whispered under his breath.
A pit formed in your stomach. Your father was a talented knight in his time. Though it had long passed. He hadn't even jousted anymore, for your mothers fear was too great. How would she feel if she could see him now? It didn't matter, you thought grimly. She has been dead for years.
You swallowed the lump in your throat. He was honorable, and kind. He was just.
"Please." The prince said softly. "Ser Duncan.. he should not lose his life because he did what was right."
Your father stared back at him, unmoving. The boy held his breath. You glanced at the guard who stood next to you. He could not seem to tear his attention away. You couldn't blame him for it.
He sighed, pressing his lips together. "I brought my armor." He breathed out. The prince's shoulders relaxed. Yours tensed. "I did not know why. I have not worn it in years." He chuckled. "I suppose I knew. I would need it." He paused. "I will fight for your.. Ser Duncan the Tall, Prince Aegon. You have my word." He murmured.
You watched the young boy. He wore a smile, clearly relieved. "It begins upon the morrow, at the tourney field." He told him.
"I will be there." Your father replied.
You couldn't listen to any more of their conversation.
You slipped back into your room, your breathing heavy and your heart even heavier. Your father had agreed to fight. A little prince had come to him, out of all of the other men at the tourney. Your father was not a particularly young man anymore. The Gods were cruel, you thought. The old and the new. What sort of God would let this happen? Perhaps it made you selfish. You could not find it within yourself to care about that at all. Not now— not when your father's life would be in danger.
You could not sleep, no matter how hard you tried to. Your mind raced with thoughts of the future. Of Aerion. Of Valarr. Of your own father.
You wished you had never come to Ashford.
The morning came slowly.
It had come up upon you quietly. The air was different. People were quieter as they walked by. The cheer of the previous day had completely diminished, and it had been replaced with something much heavier.
You felt nothing but dread as you forced yourself out of bed. Your father was not even aware of your presence last night, you were sure.. and the conversation that you anticipated was not one you looked forward to. You wondered if he would try to soften the blow, as he used to do when you were a girl. He had left thirteen years ago to fight in the Blackfyre rebellion. You were not sure what it all meant at the time. You knew only that he would be gone, and that there was a chance that he would never return.
Your ladies helped to dress you again. There was no chatter from them, and they looked up at you with sad eyes as if they already knew what was to happen. You couldn't stomach looking at them, so you kept your gaze focused on the fabric of the tent that surrounded you, your expression entirely blank.
You walked out of your quarters, your hands held together in front of you. You wore a beautiful purple gown— the color representative of the grapes of your houses sigil— and matching thin gloves that went up to your mid arm. You could not bare the idea of even seeing your father. You knew that you needed to. The conversation that was to come would be an important one.. and you could not afford to have regrets, should something go awry in the trial. You had half the mind to try to convince him to back out. You knew him better than that, though. Once he had set his mind to something, there was no changing it.
Your father wore his armor already.
He was fixing his vambraces when he set his eyes on you, and he stared at you with a small smile. You couldn't return it. You stood there wordlessly watching him. You couldn't move, and you could not think of anything to say. You didn't know what to say. You weren't supposed to know what was happening at all, but you knew your father already that you were aware of it all.
"How much did you hear, daughter?" He finally spoke, voice breaking through the silence.
"Enough." You murmured, your lips pressed together. You pulled at the end of your glove with a thumb, biting at the inside of your cheek.
He nodded. He sucked at his teeth for a moment, then moved to sit. "Come." He told you, gesturing to the chair across from him. You couldn't argue, and so you did as you were told and joined him at the table. You sat in the same seat the little prince had been in last night.
"Then you know what is to happen?"
"Why are you doing this?" You asked him, your brows knitted together. "This is hardly your problem to solve, father."
"Perhaps not, but the boy was right. The hedge knight did what all sworn knights are supposed to do."
You rubbed your forehead, squeezing your eyes closed as you leaned into the table. "This has nothing to do with you—" you argued.
"It has everything to do with me." He retorted quickly. "If I do not fight, who will? Who will stand up for what is right?" He asked you, his expression mirroring your own. You looked up at him through a gap in your fingers.
"I would hope someone else." You replied.
"You are not so naive, my daughter." He whispered sadly.
"No." You admitted after a long moment of silence. "This is not fair."
Your father chuckled, a reassuring grin on his lips. "Life is not fair." He told you. He'd told you the same sentence a long time ago back home on the island of the Arbor. Life was not fair, but it was surely much simpler then.
"I.. are you sure about doing this? I am sure they would understand if you were to decide against it."
"I am sure." He said firmly. His tone left no room for argument, and you slumped into your seat. You felt like a little girl again.
"You told me only yesterday that I was your only daughter. You said that you worry for me, and—"
"This is different."
"Is it?" You replied, eyes narrowed as you watched him. "Just as I am your only daughter, you are my only father. The only one I have ever known— the only one I will ever have. Just as you worry for me, I worry for you. It has been years since you have even picked up a sword, and now you.. you go charging off to face House Targaryen in a trial that does not end until surrender or death."
Your father said nothing.
"It has been years, father. Where does this come from?"
He pressed his lips together, and took in a breath. It was clear that he did not expect you to question him so intently.
"It is the right thing to do. That's all there is. Does there have to be more?" He asked you quietly, eyes finding your own once again.
"It feels like there should be." You admitted. You knew in your heart that there was nothing else. No ulterior motive. No reason for him to join in an attempt to gain something. It was possible he could lose his life in this battle. Your father was not the type to fight for glory. But for honor.. you turned your gaze down.
"It will be all right." He murmured. You heard him stand, but you could see nothing through your blurry vision. Your eyes had begun to well up with tears. Tears that you hadn't even noticed at all when they had started to form. You felt his hand take your own from your lap, but you could not feel the warmth of his skin through his armor. You sniffled. He used his other hand to lift your chin.
"Look at me, daughter." He said, forcing a smile. You moved your head up to find his face through your emotions. "I promise you.. it will be all right."
You nodded, lifting your free hand to attempt to wipe your cheeks dry.
You knew that promises were empty. They could never truly be kept, even if the one making the promise intended to do so. Life was unfair, you thought again, and the Gods were cruel.
"Smile." He chuckled, tucking a hair behind your ear. "It will give this old man the courage he needs to face his foes." He joked. You managed a smile at that comment. He would always find a way to cheer you up, even in the most impossible of scenarios.
"You have the courage, father. You need nothing from me."
"I'd like to see my girl smile." He replied, his gaze softening as he set it upon your face. He looked at you for a long moment— almost like he was memorizing your features before it was too late. You pushed that thought aside. He would see you again. The Gods would smile upon him.
"Come with me to the tourney field. See me off. But don't stay to watch." He spoke again. "I'm sure the sights will not be pretty." He chuckled dryly.
"You'd prefer I leave you?"
"You should not have to see fourteen men beat each other bloody." He stated simply. "You are a lady, and—"
"A grown one, father. I will do as I please."
He nodded. "I expected nothing less. You're a lot like your mother, in that sense."
"And a lot like you, I'm afraid."
"That's enough." He laughed, rolling his eyes. He knew you were right. He was always a stubborn man, and he'd only proved it even further with his refusal to even think about backing out of the trial. You pressed your lips into a small smile, hoping it was enough to quell his worries. You knew it wasn't enough to help yours.
You stepped out of the tent and into the grass outside. The air was still warm, but the atmosphere was different. Ever since last night, it seemed that everything had changed. You supposed it would be more surprising if nothing had changed at all. The first Trial of Seven was being held in the last one hundred years. This moment would be in history books. The name of your father would be there. You could only hope that his name was not accompanied with a sentence describing how he died in the fighting.
You walked with your father towards the tourney field, your arm wrapped around his own. You let yourself wish for a moment that he would change his mind on the way there, but he remained entirely silent. His armor fit him a bit tighter than it used to, you noticed. You swallowed the lump in your throat and turned away.
A crowd had already gathered. Noble lords and ladies filled the stands once again. Small folk littered the grasses around the mud. The jousting lanes had been completely removed, and all you could see was a flat, empty field. A few other figures gathered together. You saw the antlered helm of Lyonel Baratheon even from where you stood. Was he fighting for this hedge knight? If the young prince had managed to find skilled knights to help.. perhaps everything would turn out fine.
Your father glanced at you. "Are you sure you wish to stay?"
You could not respond. You didn't wish to watch anyone get hurt. Especially your father.
He lifted an armored hand to your face, and rubbed your cheek as gently as he could. "My daughter.. I will see you after this has ended." He smiled. "You should return to the tent." He told you softly. You could only bring yourself to nod.
"May.. may the Warrior watch over you, father."
"Thank you." He murmured. He lingered for a moment, but he did manage to turn on his heel and walk towards the others in the distance. Your jaw clenched, and you sniffled. You were left completely alone, now. You stood there, watching him leave. You felt a weight in your chest. You tried your best to push it aside.
You did not want to be in the stands, surrounded by strangers. It was one thing to be there with your father, but you could not bare to see them treat him like a spectacle. Your feet remained anchored in place.
Aerion must have assaulted that puppeteer almost immediately after he'd left you by the stream. You wondered why he had done it. The prince had left out what had led up to it. You doubted that it would matter. Aerion was vain and cruel. He needed no real reason to attack someone. He had most likely decided to do it because he was bored. Perhaps he wanted to take his anger out on someone. A commoner— because you were a noble woman. You felt guilty.
You forced yourself to move. The walk back to the Redwyne pavilion was long and quiet. Most had gone to watch the carnage of the trial, and you had almost turned back once you were halfway there. Your father would not wish for you to see it, and you didn't want to make him worry about you when he should be worrying about himself. You told yourself that you returned to the tent for his sake, but deep down, you knew it was mostly for your own.
You sat down outside, tossing your gloves onto the nearest table. The bench you rested on had become familiar to you over the past few days. You sighed and leaned back into the wood behind you. All you could think about was the trial. Your chest felt tight as you tried to force your muscles to relax, but no matter how hard you thought about it, it did not come.
"My lady?"
Your eyes opened quickly, and you returned to a formal posture befitting of a lady.
Valarr.
He stared back at you with beautiful mismatched eyes. He was not wearing his armor. You blinked.
"I.. my prince." You whispered back to him. "What are you doing here?"
"The same as you, I suppose." He replied. His shoulders were not as straight as they usually were. His shoulders slouched. His gaze was not as warm as it was yesterday. Something was wrong. "I wished to.. escape the trial." He chuckled dryly.
"I had assumed you would fight for your cousin." You admitted. Valarr shook his head. He bit at the inside of his cheek, and moved a bit closer to you. You shifted in your seat, giving him enough room to join you on the bench. He joined you without hesitation. His shoulder brushed against yours.
"My uncle wished for it, I'm sure. But Aerion has his six without me." He told you softly. He hadn't turned to look at you. His attention remained on the trees in the distance.
"You.. do not want to watch?"
"I do not."
"I understand." You breathed out, turning your eyes to the ground. You picked at the skin around your nails anxiously, your thoughts lingering back to your father.
"My father fights for Ser Duncan." Valarr admitted.
You looked up at him. "What?"
"I tried to convince him otherwise. He did not wish to hear of it. He asked for my armor. I let him have it." He continued, his voice only getting quieter the more he talked. He almost looked ashamed. "I should have offered to fight in his place."
"Valarr," you whispered his name. You rested your hand on top of his own. Only then did he turn to face you. You did not know how he managed to get more handsome with every time you saw him. You had never seen him this close, either.
Freckles. He had freckles.
You paused, your lips parting as your eyes trailed over his features. You finally came to your senses. Your face hot under his gaze.
"My father.. he fights for the hedge knight as well." You said. "I tried to do the same. But.. he is as stubborn as they come. He was set on it."
"It seems.. both of our fathers are fools, then."
"They are good men." You whispered instead.
Valarr sniffled, but nodded. You knew it was something he was aware of already. You said nothing else. The birds were eerily quiet, and the only thing you could hear was the sound of the wind blowing through the trees.
"I should have volunteered myself. I should have insisted I fight." He broke through the silence after a long few moments. "I should not have let my father.."
"Valarr.. I cannot pretend to know your father." You started, your thumb rubbing the back of his hand. "Though if he is anything like mine.. he would not have let you. Men are.. set in their ways. And they are protective of their sons." You whispered.
You watched him chew at the inside of his lip. You couldn't tell what he was thinking. You couldn't pretend to even have the faintest idea of what was going on in his head.
"You are probably right." He admitted after a pause. He smiled suddenly, laughter escaping from his lips. "My jousts.. the opponents I face— they are never men of great renown. They are all old. Knights who have long passed their prime." Valarr muttered, a sigh escaping from him. "I have never known why. I have wished to be paired against true fighters for as long as I have been able to hold a lance, let alone compete in a tourney. But it has never happened. I have always wondered if my father was behind it."
You watched him silently, wordlessly. You comforted him through touch alone, your skin against his. His hand was shaking. You grasped it just a bit tighter.
"My father is a great knight himself. He is a war veteran. He fought at the Redgrass field. And what has his son done? Defeated old men in a game they barely qualify for?" He wondered aloud. "What could I have done in this trial?" He whispered to himself. "I have no real experience. I would have made myself look like a fool."
You could not come up with anything to say. Your eyes found his. His gaze softened as he looked back at you.
"You are right. He would not have let me fight." He concluded.
You were entirely unaware of everything he had told you. You would not have known that his jousts were played up if he had not admitted it to you. It was clear it was something he hated. Fathers would go to great lengths to protect their children. Just as yours had done for you.
"Did Aerion.." He broke the silence once again. "Did he do anything to you?"
You should have seen this coming. "He.. paid me a visit by the Cockleswhent last night." You told him. You did not want to worry him any further. You knew he carried a heavy weight today. Though you doubted that he would wish for you to hide anything from him. Even if it was done for good a good reason.
"What happened?"
"He.. asked me if I was bored of you." You told him truthfully.
He nodded. He said nothing in response. You didn't know if it was because he had nothing to say, or because he did not know what to say at all. It was still clear he was upset by the look on his face.
"I am not bored of you." You confessed to him, your voice barely louder than a whisper. "If I was, I would not be sitting here with you now."
"What else?" Valarr asked you quietly.
You looked towards the sky. It was gray and cloudy. Not an ounce of sunlight slipped through. The air was still warm, but a chill nipped at your skin regardless. "He told me that he would not bore me. That he could give me whatever I wished for." You paused.
"Did he touch you?" He whispered. He sounded worried. Fearful. Almost afraid to hear your answer.
"No." You shook your head. "He.. touched my hair. His lips barely felt my skin."
Valarr watched you, a sadness in his eyes. You adored his eyes. You could not stand to see him looking so upset.
"He has touched you." He concluded. "I am sorry." He breathed out, wetting his lips. "It was a risk— asking you for your favor. I should have known that it would attract his attention. He has never been fond of me. I.. should have expected for him to stoop so low."
"This is not your fault." You said, your voice soft but still firm.
"If I had not—"
"I would not change it." You told him. "I would give you my favor again. Even if it meant dealing with Aerion a million times over. I would do it all over again."
He let out an unsteady breath, but his eyes did not leave yours. "What have I done to deserve that?" He asked you.
You chuckled. "You have been yourself."
He stared back at you. You felt exposed under his focus too, but Valarr did not make you uncomfortable like Aerion had. He never did. He made you feel like a blushing young girl instead of the grown woman you were. No one else had ever managed to make you feel so flustered by merely a look.
"Stay with me, Valarr." You found yourself saying. He looked at you, expression unreadable. "Stay.. until we know our fathers are well."
He said nothing for a long moment.
His shoulder bumped against yours.
"Stay." He repeated. "I think I can do that."
You smiled up at him. He returned it.
In spite of it all, you knew that this one was genuine.
notes: this part is about 4.8k words! i had a lot of fun with this one. i'm still not sure what i want to do about baelor's fate. i think it could still be interesting for him to die, but i don't want to take away from anything else either. let me know your thoughts!
like i said in the author's note at the beginning of this chapter, life lately has been so hectic i haven't really had the time to write. i hate leaving you all hanging, but i do appreciate all of the kind words and reassurances. i don't like taking forever to update things i know people are looking forward to, but life sometimes has other plans. thank you all for your love and support both for my writing, and for me as a person. i see all of your comments and they all mean the world to me.
tags: @luvweezer @glitchinmatrixx @ladyhesperus @7775sblog @th3d1n0r3ad3r @theoriginalwifeofhanjumin @gotham-lady @oscarisdaddy69 @bloumourn @rebeccawinters @jellyfrogz @nixtape-foryou @lauramooij05 @pinkraindropsfell @valarrsgirl @crimsonvaporterminus @rakilein @thaliasnicket @smilefortae @yohanseyebrowmole @leclrchalamet @enchantingyouthbluebird @mrsjohnnysuh @adr14anna @al4storfan @hadesnumber1daughter @jellyfrogz @sleepy-time @read-just-cant-stop @deliciousfestsalad @high-speed-r @ninaaaaa2007 (let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series)!
🔴My child cries and her tears are on your shoulders. Kidney failure ends her life and her autism symptoms become more violent. I cannot afford therapy sessions; Please help her. Put a smile on her face and be the kind soul she cries out to through her tears. . Help us survive 🙏🙏🏻🙏🙏🏻. My children deserve to live. The silence of this world is enough. Please take action by sharing the post and donating. 🌸
request: hi, i saw you were looking for some akotsk requests! i'd love to see perhaps a one shot of valarr x fem!reader! maybe she's a lady of a (not great houses) noble house and they meet at the tourney?
summary: as a lady of house redwyne, you are often expected to attend important tournaments alongside your family. you never go because you want to, but because it is necessary. luckily, this tournament proves far more fruitful than other other you'd ever been to.
tags: sfw, semi-canon compliant (valarr is not married), no use of y/n
author's note: decided to make reader a redwyne because they're criminally underrated and i love them. i know they're pretty important in westeros but they aren't a great house, so i thought that this was the perfect time to use them. i'm also not a taylor swift fan.. but the title came to me in a dream or something. i'm a bit nervous posting this, but i hope you all enjoy!
You were only glad that the traveling was over.
In your humble opinion, traveling by ship was the worst sort of traveling. It was easy to get sick with how often the boat would rock against the sea's waters. You were only lucky that the trip up the Sunset Sea and down the Mander lasted just a few days. You weren't sure if you could stomach any longer, and you found yourself wondering why the Gods had decided to be so cruel when they deemed you a Redwyne of the Arbor. Your family governed from an island of all places. It wasn't very ideal for a woman prone to seasickness.
You wouldn't say you were the most fond of tourneys. The pinnacle of entertainment, in your eyes, wasn't watching random knights and lords of other houses desperately try to unhorse each other in fancy armor. Still, you were expected to attend. Your lord father was a stern man, and he often saw tourneys as an opportunity for you to find a suitor. "You're past the age to be wed," he'd say. "You need a husband."
It wasn't as though you were ever interested in finding one. The idea of being married off to a stranger wasn't incredibly pleasant to you, but you let your father do as he pleased. Every now and then, he would attempt to slyly bring up the name of a young knight with a suitable amount of land in some other region in hopes you would agree to meet them. You were never the most receptive to his ideas, but you would always agree to avoid breaking his heart. Some knights would look at you with wide, terrified eyes and shaking hands. You'd offer a smile, but they would always end up dismissed before the night was through, much to your father's dismay. They were few and far between. More commonly, other men would spend their time with you boasting about themselves and their feats in an attempt to impress you. It did nothing of the sort, and only made disguist rise within you.
The day was long already, but the night was filled with jousting. The sound of cheering and the splintering of wood filling your ears would be present long after the night was done and well into the next morning, you imagined. You sat next to your father in the stands, hoping and praying to the Mother that no injury would befall any of the knights or lords in front of you. Jousting was a dangerous, violent thing. Even if rules were in place, you knew accidents could happen to anyone.
You watched Lord Lyonel Baratheon unhorse Ser Robert Ashford. You'd seen him before, the Laughing Storm. You understood where the moniker came from, and you swore the man never stopped laughing.. even when the end of Ser Robert's lance broke violently against his shield. He finally unhorsed the younger Ashford son after ten tilts, which your father noted was a most impressive feat. Lord Lyonel was a massive man, built sturdier than a wall and taller than anyone you'd ever met. Anyone who lasted so long against him was certainly skilled in their own right.
Ser Tybolt Lannister unhorsed the older of the Ashford sons, Androw. Both he and his brother were named champions for his sister, Gwin. It was too bad they were both defeated, but they'd lasted longer against the older men than most would.
Among the other champions was Lord Leo Tyrell, nicknamed 'Longthorn' for his skill as a jouster. Many believed him one of the best in Westeros, and you knew no one who would argue. Ser Humfrey Hardyng was another of Gwin Ashford's champions, and a tourney knight of incredible renown. In a melee the year before, you recalled him unhorsing a member of King Daeron's Kingsguard, Ser Donnel of Duskendale. It was a great feat, no one could deny it.
The final champion was Prince Valarr Targaryen, second in line to the Iron Throne and son of Baelor. You knew little about him, in truth. You knew that he was to be king one day. You supposed hearing less about him was probably a good thing. You knew more of his cousins— Prince Maekar's sons— who seemed.. less than savory. Prince Aerion was rumored to be cruel whenever he was away from his fathers watchful eye. Valarr was unknown to you, and you liked it that way.
The first knight of jousting was mostly uneventful. There were no injuries, much to your pleasure. Your father watched the jousts eagerly, with a smile on his lips. You often wondered if he missed jousting. In his age, he'd stopped doing it himself some time ago. Your mother was like you in insisting that it was dangerous, and she didn't want him meeting an early end. So, he reluctantly agreed, and he hadn't picked up a lance since. You were sure he missed it. There was always a sparkle in his eye when he watched it. You wouldn't have been surprised if he'd went down to the jousting lanes himself, picked up a lance, and challenged the nearest man.
Your father stopped to speak to Lord Leo Tyrell as you were leaving the stands, which left you to wander back through the mud to your tent. A few guards trailed after you, watching over your shoulder with every step you took. Their presence was heavy, and it had always been annoying. You understood that sometimes it was necessary, but you doubted it was here. You were hardly the focus of the evening, and so you were confident in your own navigation skills.
"Leave me, sers." You turned on your heel after a few minutes. You didn't want to go to bed immediately. After a night filled with so much adrenaline, you doubted that you'd be able to sleep even if you wanted to. The knights looked at each other, and then back at you. They were young, you knew. Perhaps your age. You raised a brow, and gestured for them to leave again. "Should something happen, you will be the first to know of it. I shall scream." You said, if only to make them feel a bit better about leaving their post.
".. Very well, Lady Redwyne." The taller of the two responded with a hesitant nod. He walked off after a pause, and the other followed in his footsteps.
A sigh escaped your lips, and a weight lifted from your chest as you watched their armored backs disappear into the crowd. You managed a smile. You were finally alone for the first time since arriving at Ashford, and you were thankful for it. It didn't seem like your mind was really able to clear in all of the chaos of the tourney, but things were finally beginning to calm down and many had started the trek back to their respective tents after the jousting had ended for the night.
You picked up the end of your dress, beginning to walk through the various tents. You had no set destination in mind. You only knew that you wanted to wander. It wasn't perhaps the smartest idea for a lady of your standing, but the thought of it was far from your mind as you passed through crowds of lords and common folk alike. It was a pleasant sight. Nothing brought the realm together quite like a tournament.
Your feet carried you through the various gatherings and down towards the river. The Cockleswhent, if you remembered correctly. It was more of a stream than a river and you knew that you would reach the Mander if you were to follow it long enough. You might not have enjoyed the journey to Ashford itself, but you did enjoy being near the water. Being on it was an entirely different story. Even if you'd grown accustomed to it. As a Lady of House Redwyne, you had to travel away from the Arbor and across the whole of Westeros many times through the years. You loved seeing just how different every region was. It was perhaps your favorite part of the traveling.
You were sure the ends of your dress were becoming covered in mud by the time you'd reached the shore. You didn't have the energy to care, and you knew that the material could always be washed. If not completely cleaned, then replaced. It was a luxury, and you knew it. Many could not afford a dress like the one you wore. Many could not afford a dress at all.
You blew your hair from your face, and stared off at the water. The sound of the stream rushing by was a reassuring once. The tourney would be over within the next week, at most. Your father would find a few more potential suitors for you, you would brush them aside, and then you would return home. It would be the same as it always was.
You could still hear some chatter in the distance. You hadn't wandered too far from the tourney grounds, and it would be easy for you to find your way back towards your family's tent when your mind was thoroughly cleared.
A branch cracked in the woods behind you, and you jumped onto your feet.
You hadn't realized how easy it would be for someone else to find you, though.
You blinked, your breath caught in your throat. The moon did little to light the space in front of you— the leaves of the trees overhead were simply far too dense for it to pierce— and you froze in place. Should you say something? Or hide?
"My lady?"
The voice was an unfamiliar one. You swallowed, suddenly being pulled back into the reality of the moment.
The stranger wore armor. Dark and detailed, clearly well loved but also well taken care of. The darkness didn't do much to help you to make out his features or any recognizable crests.. not at this distance, anyway.
"Ser." You greeted after a pause and a respectful bow of your head.
"You're alone?" He responded, taking a few steps closer towards you.
"I'm.. afraid so, ser."
"That's awfully dangerous." He replied. Even in the dark, you could hear the smile on his lips.
"Well, I.. I've been all right so far." You informed. You saw him nod, and watched his head turn to the side, watching the flow of the stream that ran beside where you stood. He looked back to you after only a moment or two.
"Lady.. Redwyne, isn't it?"
"I.. am, yes."
"Forgive my manners." He started after a pause. "Prince Valarr Targaryen."
He stepped forward again, and your heart fell into your chest.
Valarr. The Targaryen prince you knew absolutely nothing about. You weren't sure if the lack of information about him was a good thing or not, but if he was anything like his cousin.. you weren't sure you wanted to stick around and find out.
In this new angle, he was much clearer. He had brown hair, much like his father, with a singular streak of white that you cursed yourself for not noticing in the dark. The Targaryen three headed dragon was emblazoned on his breast plate. You looked up at him as he took your hand. He lifted it to his lips, and pressed a chaste kiss to your knuckles. You watched him wordlessly, and his gaze met yours. His eyes were beautiful, you noticed. Not the traditional Valyrian violet, but equally as fascinating. Blue and brown.
"My.. prince." You forced out. His hand lingered in yours for a moment too long before he let it return to your side.
"My lady." He replied. "I'm pleased to finally meet you."
"Finally?" You asked before you could stop yourself. He chuckled, his hand resting against the pommel of the sword at his belt.
"Finally." He repeated. "I've heard much about you."
"I hope it.. has been nothing distasteful."
"Nothing of the sort." Prince Valarr reassured with a smile to match his words. "I've heard of your beauty. The tales do not do you justice. You're far more beautiful in person."
Your breath hitched, and it was your turn to laugh. Many men had said similar things in an attempt to win your hand in the past. The men your father had offered you as suitors were some examples. They never focused on you, and instead they had treated you as some prize to be won. Something about the way he said it felt.. different, somehow. You shoved the thought aside, tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear as you desperately attempted to ignore the heat rising to your face.
"That's.. you're very kind to say so, my prince." You told him.
"I'm only being honest." He said without missing a beat. You wanted to believe him. You found yourself doing exactly that, if only for a moment.
"Thank you."
"Of course." He replied with that same pretty smile. You've seen plenty of fake smiles over the years, and the one he wore didn't look anything like those. This seemed.. genuine. "If I may.." he continued, his soft voice breaking through the silence, "why are you out here alone, my lady? Where are your guards?"
"I.." you began, taking in a breath as you glanced away from him. You clasped your hands together in front of you, picking at the skin by your fingernails. The prince's gaze shifted to your hands as you did so, and his head tilted as he watched you. "I wished to be alone. Even for just a few minutes." You admitted, finding yourself unable to tell him anything but the truth.
His eyebrows raised. "I don't mean to interrupt."
"No, no. I'm grateful for your company, my prince. I'm honored." You spoke quickly, not wanting to give him the wrong impression. Even if you were perfectly content with not knowing him.. he didn't seem to be anything like his cousin, so far. Besides, it would be rude to turn down conversation with royalty. Let alone the future king of Westeros.
Prince Valarr laughed, his smile widening. You turned your head to meet his gaze and you saw nothing but kindness in his eyes. No malicious intent. No judgment. Nothing. "Don't worry," he said, "I don't mean to tease you. I understand wishing to be alone better than most, I'd imagine."
You hadn't thought of that. He'd spent the entire day and most of the night in the spotlight. As one of Lady Gwin Ashford's champions and a prince of the realm, you knew he would be getting plenty of attention. It must be overwhelming.
"I'm.. happy to be alone with you, then." You offered.
You watched as the corners of his lips turned upward, and a comfortable stillness fell over you. You'd never pictured your night going this way. You never would've guessed that you would be standing at the water's edge with a Targaryen prince, enveloped in a strangely pleasant moment.
You didn't know how long you stood there, but you knew it was he who spoke first.
"Thank you, my lady. Your company has been.. wonderful."
You chuckled. "Any time, my prince."
"Valarr, please."
Your throat felt dry, and your brow knitted together. "I couldn't."
"Please." He repeated, his eyes finding yours in the moonlight.
You couldn't say no to him.
"Valarr." You said. It felt unnatural to be so casual with him, but the look on his face was one of warmth and contentment.
"I'll find you again. On the morrow, before the lists."
"Wait, I—" You tried to interrupt.
"I'll be sure to ask for your favor, my lady." The prince finished. He grinned and pressed a kiss to the back of your hand. You watched him walk away, every attempt at speech falling flat. Your skin tingled. You could feel the ghost of his lips against your hand. You stared after him long after he was gone, your heart pounding in your chest.
You didn't know how long you stood there.
You only knew that jousting suddenly seemed much more exciting.
notes: wc is about 2.7k. i'm super happy with how this turned out.. and i'm almost tempted to write a part 2. let me know if you'd be interested!
hello! my name is croía (cree-uh), and i use she/her pronouns. i'm currently 21 years old! i plan on posting here whenever i have the time and energy, so i don't have an upload schedule. requests are always open unless stated otherwise.
note: i am a human being with a lot of things going on in my life outside of writing. please don't pressure me into writing things quicker! it won't help and it just demotivates me.
PSA: PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK! IF YOU DO, I WILL FIND OUT AND ASK YOU TO TAKE IT DOWN. DO NOT TRANSLATE MY WORK WITHOUT PERMISSION.
— rules
no minors. this blog is strictly 18+.
x readers only for now! i may post some oc stuff of mine in the future, though.
i'm comfortable with writing any type of reader of any identity and sexuality, but everything will be gender neutral by default.
limit headcanon requests to five characters or less.
please specify whether you want a drabble, oneshot, or headcanons! i always want to do exactly what you want so it'd be easier that way.
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i will not write yandere, as it makes me uncomfortable.
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