summery: In the reign of Daeron II Targaryen, Myra Targaryen grows up amidst duty and expectation, favored by the king but distant from her father's heart. She knows that her destiny is a political marriage, perhaps even between blood relatives, to protect the dragon's blood. She is not afraid of duty. She is afraid of not being able to choose.Myra discovers a forbidden love that could cost her everything: honor, family, future. But perhaps finally give her the peace she so desires
author's note: this is the first time I've written something, I don't know if this story will continue, I don't even know if anyone will read it, it's just an incipit hoping that it can lead to something else. English is not my first language so if there are any errors i ask you to be patient, I will improve. In case anyone wants to help me improve something in this short beginning I will be happy to read comments. hope you like it <3
ps: I don't know for sure Ser Roland's age but in my story I imagined him in his early 20's
The wind in the gardens of the red fortress had never learned to silence, bringing with it the salty smell of the narrow sea and the voices of the court.
Myra Targaryen walked along the stone path with her hands clasped in front of her, observing the dornish roses around her, a tribute brought long ago from her mother's homeland.
Her hair gathered in dark braids, some tufts released by the breeze tickled her face.
there was no silver in that hair, nor purple in her eyes.
Many noticed it
She had learned over time not to do it
At just turned eighteen he was old enough to understand that blood could be a blessing, but if you are part of the Targaryen house it could become a prison.
where the value of blood, pure blood, had often and willingly been essential for his family, to keep the Targaryen name powerful.
Even if over the centuries this "tradition" had started to make exceptions, she was proof of it.
Daughter of Prince Maekar I Targaryen and Dyanna Dayne, originally from the lands of Dornish, she was the only one of seven children to inherit those traits
She was the favorite granddaughter of King Daeron II Targaryen, Myra was far enough from the throne not to be feared, but close enough to be useful.
Although she often heard gossip and annoyed looks during council meetings, her niece was a valuable advisor and support to the king.
she stopped in front of the central fountain
The water reflected a face with harsher features, more like his uncle Baelor than his father.
A face that the court often described as severe.
Baelor said she was determined.
<<Your Grace>>
She didn't turn around immediately, she knew who that voice belonged to.
A firm, deep voice used to giving orders, but in battle not in a garden.
Ser Roland Crakehall stood a few steps away from her, the white cloak of the royal guard fell heavy on his broad shoulders, he rarely let any emotion show when he spoke to her.
And he never lowered his eyes,she had noticed this well.
<<Ser Roland, do you fear that I might drown in a fountain?>>
A slight movement of the corner of the mouth, almost imperceptible, as always controlled.
Myra was sure that this was the beginning of a smile
<<I fear only what I am ordered to fear>>
<<And what orders were given to you today?>>
<<What is asked of me every day as a royal guard, to watch over the peace of the king>>
Myra barely held back an ironic laugh as she watched the water ripple under the wind.
There was no peace in the corridors where weddings were whispered
There was no peace in the father's stern gaze
There was no peace in the shadow of Aerion , who went around talking about pure blood
For some time now there had been no peace even in his heart.
That heart that almost seemed to mock her.
That heart that reacted in a way inexplicable to her to the presence of the man in white.
Myra knew well that she could now be close to a wedding, she had already avoided it for a long time, considering that real unions were already decided upon as children.
She was not against marriage, she knew for herself that they had never been a matter of the heart, but of power and balance between houses.
But sometimes she wondered if it was really too much to want, in addition to duty, also someone to love.
She knew all too well what she could and couldn't want though.
Ser Roland was not meant for her.
And she wasn't meant to be able to choose.
In that corner of the garden, for a brief moment, she wondered if it was somehow possible to negotiate fate.
let me know what you think and if i should continue xoxo
summery: Nymeria Martell grew up in King's Landing to become a perfect princess. Valarr Targaryen grew up to belong to the kingdom. They have always been friends. Always been safe. Until he starts looking for her in every woman he should marry. And he understands that the only alliance he really wants... is her.
autor's note:i'm back with a one shot,it's a little longer but the more I wrote, the more I couldn't stop so i hope you can enjoy it anyway.let me know what you think xoxo
tags: friends to lovers , pining , balcony confession , happy ending AU
I had to learn to appreciate it out of duty, not by choice.
I am Nymeria Martell, daughter of Dorne, raised within stone walls instead of under the burning sun of Sunspear. I don't have vivid memories of my homeland, I was too young when i left to have them imprinted in my mind. My father sits in the king's council; he says it's an honor. My mother says that here I will learn to be a princess worthy of my name.
At court I soon understood that being different meant being observed. My darker skin, my accent, my clothes too light for the capital's climate. I was a sun among dragons.
Then I met him.
I was eight years old when I hid in the gardens of the Red Keep to escape the lords' children who stared at me as a curiosity.
I ducked behind a rose bush, convinced I was alone.
“This is my place.”
I looked up, ready to reply - and found myself in front of brown hair with a unique prominent steak of silver-gold running through it.
but the thing that shocked me the most were the eyes: one was blue in clear contrast with the other a dark brown
He was Valarr Targaryen, son of Prince Baelor Targaryen. But then to me he was just a boy with whom I shared a refuge from the world
“Then we'll share it” I replied.
He studied me for a long moment. Then he smiled.
That's how it all began.
He didn't ask me why I spoke differently. He didn't ask me why I hated the cold in the capital. He just asked me if Dorne was really as hot as they said.
“From what my parents tell me it's like this, unfortunately I would like to have more memories of my land”
“Then one day I'll take you back” he said
Promises from children. But I have never taken promises lightly.
We grew up together as time passed without us realizing it.
Our shoulders broadened, our voices became more confident. Once our eyes were used to being at the same height ,now I had to turn my gaze upwards to meet those irises so in conflict with each other but so familiar to me.
The lessons got tougher, the expectations heavier.
Valarr was born to be observed. His every movement and word was studied. The court looked at him as they look at a future king.
I looked at him like you look at a friend.
It was with me that he lowered all his defenses. With me sighing when the politics lessons became unbearable. With me laughing without having to maintain a composed tone.
“Sometimes I feel like I'm not enough” he confessed to me one evening, overlooking the Blackwater.
“Not for me” i replied without thinking.
I didn't realize how true it was until I saw the way he was looking at me.
Something was changing. But I still didn't know how to name this feeling.
The day he said that word, I understood that childhood was truly over.
“I have to choose a wife”
He said it in the gardens. The place that had seen our friendship born.Where he had seen us live our childhood and adolescence and now begin our adulthood.
I smiled because it was the only thing I could do.
“And you're telling me this because...?”
“I want your opinion, you know me better than anyone, you know what's best for me”
And I accepted.
I observed ladies, I listened to conversations, I tried to do my best to find the lady who was best suited to Valarr, who was not only looking for power but also love.
I wanted this for myself, so I imagined that my friend wanted the same.
Every time he asked me for updates I responded promptly.
“She's ambitious”
“He fears you”
“He wants the crown more than he wants you”
He listened. But every time he ended up saying: “ It is not…”
One evening, almost overcome by despair, without thinking I said “It's not what, Valarr? ”
He looked at me as if he had finally decided to stop lying to himself.
“He's not like you”
I felt something vibrate inside me
I tried to lighten up. “That's not a compliment”
“Yes it is”
At that moment I understood the involuntary reason for the twist of my mouth as I watched him smile at others.
It was jealousy.
And it was terrifyingly real.
Valarr pov
It should have been easy.
Everyone kept telling him that.
Choosing a wife was a duty, whether he liked it or not he soon had to make a decision.
There were lineages to consider, alliances to make, houses to strengthen. It wasn't a matter of the heart.
Yet every encounter left him feeling like something was missing.
The first one was perfect.
Lady Rowan spoke gracefully, moving her hands with studied confidence. She never looked down too soon, never laughed too loudly.
And as he watched, Valarr noticed something.
The way she kept her back straight.
Elegant. As if it came naturally to her.
Like Nymeria when she walked through the throne room, as if every stone under her feet had to adapt to her step, and not the other way around.
I shook my head, dismissing the thought.
The second one was kind.
Lady Tyrell had a sweet voice and a smile that welcomed you like a hug. When I spoke, she really listened.
And for an instant Valarr felt a sense of comfort.
Then she tilted her head as she considered a question.
Just like Nymeria did, almost unconsciously, when she was curious about something or someone.
The comfort faded.
The third made him laugh a little.
An appreciable quality, they had told him. But the girl tried to hold back as much as possible.
But that suppressed laughter reminded him of the way Nymeria laughed only with him. How she let herself go when no one was looking. Not out of courtesy. Because she wanted it.
And he understood that he didn't want a woman who could hold back.
He wanted a woman who would choose when not to.
The fourth had dark eyes.
And for an instant, he felt something strange in his heart.
But they weren't Nymeria's eyes. They didn't have that way of observing with studied calm, as if she were considering whether to tell the truth or the kinder version of it.
She didn't look at him like Nymeria did.
Not just as a man.
But as someone who could fail — and still be worthy.
The discomfort grew with each encounter.
Every lady according to protocol was perfect to be his wife and worthy future queen.
But every detail he appreciated already belonged to someone else.
A posture.
A slight movement of the head.
A way of listening.
A laugh.
A look.
Even the most trivial thing like the way one of them put the glass on the table reminded him of Nymeria - controlled, careful not to invade other people's space.
Realization hit him like cold water on the face.
He wasn't looking for a wife.
He was looking for Nymeria in every woman he met.
And every time he found something that brought him back to her he felt frustrated, because the person making those gestures wasn't Nymeria.
It wasn't as if any were enough.
Who was enough and more had always been before his eyes.
Because his future had already taken shape years before, in a garden scented with red roses.
Valarr closed his eyes.
He was deciding whether he would finally find the courage to want what he really wanted.
Nymeria.
Only Nymeria.
I should have endure everything.
The ladies, the studied smiles, the political conversations hidden by compliments.
I would have to bear to see Valarr choose a wife. That was what he asked of me.
But that evening, at the banquet, when Lady Rowan placed her hand on his arm as if he already belonged to her, I felt my heart sink.
For the rest of the time I smiled and conversed warmly with almost everyone present. I did what others expected me to do.
Then I decided to leave when pretending was becoming difficult.
The balcony welcomes me with the cold night air.
It reminds me to breathe.
I grip the railing with my hands and squeeze so hard until my knuckles turn white.
I can't calm down.
And suddenly...
“I knew you'd come here”
I close my eyes for a moment.
I don't turn around right away.I have to try to compose myself, it would have been too obvious for him if something had upset me.
“I needed air” I say.
“From me?”
I can't answer.
When I turn around, he's closer than I thought.
The torchlight casts shadows on his face, and for a moment he seems all too vulnerable.
“Come back in” I murmur.
"I cannot"
He takes a step towards me.
I force myself to raise a hand, I have to stop him, if I let him get closer I would no longer be able to push him away.
"You have to."
Another step.
Now I feel the heat that his body gives off, the scent of wine and burnt wood.
“I can't keep pretending”
“Pretend what?”
The silence that follows envelops us like a blanket, taking away the chaos of the banquet.
Now it was just me and him.
His gaze drops to my hands clenched on the railing.
He extends his hand and his fingers touch mine, it's such a light contact but it still manages to move something inside me.
It's a gentle, apprehensive touch.
I loosen my grip, but let his hand remain on mine.
“I see you everywhere” he says softly.
My heart starts to speed up.
“Valarr…”
“In every woman I find myself in front of”
His fingers move again, waiting for my reaction.
“I'm looking for something that reminds me of you”
His grip becomes tight.
Our hands are actually touching now.
“The way you tilt your head when you're overcome by curiosity is something you've carried with you since you were little, I've always adored this trait of yours”
A shiver runs through me.
“The way you walk.Any of yours movement has never been indifferent to me”
His fingers intertwine with mine.
I'm not stopping him.
“Your way of observing.For many you might have seemed cryptic, but I knew how to interpret every glance”
I have to tell him to stop.
Not to go down this road.
To forget everything.
But nothing comes out. I don't want to say those things.
Because I'm tired of lying to myself.
“I don't want anyone else”
His words hit me like fire.
“Subconsciously i always had the answer”
I shook my head.
“Don't say it”
“It's too late”
When I look up, his eyes are fully open to me.
Only truth.
“I don't want a life where you don't exist”
The world around us disappears.
Our titles, our duties disappear,the walls where we have hidden our feelings for too long disappear.
Everything collapses.
The wind lifts a lock of my hair.
He pushes it aside.
His fingers touch my cheek.
I remain still.
“Valarr… we cannot-”
The kiss came as a question, as if he were uncertain about his rash choice.
Soft.
Like he's waiting for me to reject him.
I don't do it. I can't do it.
Even if this will be our first and last kiss.
I've been waiting for this moment too long.
The suffering of brutal reality will be something I deal with later.
My fingers tighten on his robe.
The kiss deepens, trembling, disbelieving.
When we part, he stays close.
So close that I feel his breath against my lips.
We both try to come up for air.
“Tell me to stop”
I look at him.From his eyes i understand that he wants more,and so do i.
No more excuses.
"I couldn't even if I tried"
What follows is silence.
But it's not empty, it's full of everything we just did.
The world hasn't changed but at the same time it's as if it had.
My fingers still haven't left his robe.
His are now positioned on my hips.
As if we were both afraid that once we broke up everything would vanish.
“This changes everything” I whisper.
Valarr does not move away.
His forehead touches mine, and for the first time since I've known him he doesn't look like the prince who will one day carry the burden of the kingdom.
It's just him.
Valarr only.
"I know"
I risk raising a hand to touch his cheek
Without much hesitation he kisses the inside of it.
Such a simple gesture that breaks me more than any statement.
“I should be scared” I say.
"Me too"
But he doesn't sound scared.
“And instead?”
A small smile appears on his lips.
It's not what he uses at court. It's not diplomatic. It is not studied.
It's real.
“Instead I feel as if I have finally stopped lying, I have lifted an enormous weight that I have been carrying around for I don't know how long now”
The wind moves the curtains behind us.
Inside, the banquet continues.
Music.
Voices.
The world that awaits us.
“Tomorrow” I say softly, “they'll come back to talk to you about alliances”
“Yes”
“And duties”
“Yes”
“And about marriage”
This time he doesn't answer right away.
Now both his hands cup my face.
The contact is hot.
Trembles slightly.
“Then I will tell them the truth”
My heart jumps into my throat.
“You can't”
“I can”
“Valarr..”
“I don't want a bride just for a good alliance, I don't want to have to lie to a person who also deserves love”
His voice is low, but firm.
“I want a life worth living”
My breath breaks.
“And that life…” he continues, “includes you”
There is no theatricality in his statement, only certainties.
“Nymeria”
The way he says my name melts me.
“I don't want to look for you anywhere else”
The world stops again.
And this time not out of fear.
“You won't have to do it”
His fingers intertwine with mine once again.
They no longer tremble.
“Then stay”
It's not an order.
It's not a request.
It's a promise.
We are not tempting fate.
We are choosing it.
I get closer.
The second kiss is not uncertain.
It's not stolen.
It's wanted.
When we part, I laugh softly against his lips.
a few days later...
Certain rumors began to circulate through the corridors.
The court understands these things before they are even said.
The whispers began softly.
Then they grew up.
No official proclamations were needed. The way Valarr stopped avoiding my gaze in the hallways was enough. The way I stopped pretending that his presence was just habit was enough.
They weren't cruel voices, more curious.
Dornish.Targaryen.
Friendship became something else.
My father was the first to really look at me.
He said nothing when he saw me emerge from the gardens beside Valarr.
He didn't make a scene. He didn't ask for explanations. He just looked at me. As if he were looking for the little girl he had brought to court years before... and could no longer find her.
It didn't stop me.
And that was enough.
The real wait was something else.
Prince Baelor was not a man who raised his voice.He didn't need it.
His presence was enough to fill a room.
I found him at the window, the morning light outlining his profile.
He didn't ask for information.
Instead he looked at his son — standing next to me, without distance.
And he understood.
In the way his gaze went from Valarr to me… and then back to Valarr.
As if he were looking for certainties
He didn't speak right away.
And that silence was heavier than any judgement.
Then he sighed.
As of surrender
Like a man who understands that certain paths cannot be avoided.
Baelor had never expressed it out loud but he had always had a soft spot for that little girl.
He wanted the best for his son, and she was.
The court adapted, as always.
the world did not collapse.
The sun continued to rise over King's Landing.
And I continued walking beside Valarr.
And when his fingers sought mine, there was no more hesitation.
“I was thinking before the wedding, when the rest of our lives begins and we are busy with councils, duties and hopefully a family, we should go on a journey”
My eyes were full of happiness.
“A long time ago I promised it to a little girl inside a rose bush, I think the time has come to keep that promise”
My heart was full.
Years ago the thing I hoped for most in the world was to feel the Dornish sun on my skin again.
And it's still like that.
But the thing that had changed was the fact that for the first time I no longer felt like a guest.
For the first time I felt chosen.
King's Landing no longer seems like a cage to me.
It would have been nice to go home for a while.
But my true home was here with Valarr.
Because the dragonfire chose to burn with the sun of Dorne.
i cannot emphasize how much it sucks that people in movies don’t look real anymore. like conventionally attractive people have always been cast more as leads but up until like a decade ago they had visible age lines and textured skin and double chins and imperfect teeth. like whenever i’m feeling insecure i just have to watch a regular movie from the 70s and remind myself that im actually not unhygienic and disgusting for having teeth that are a little yellow and visible pores
