daeron had never known his true mother. alicent had sent him to ward in oldtown when he was too young to hold memories. he had not looked to replace her role, but it had happened nonetheless. she was the one he would always returned to, ormund's wife. she had sons of her own, children she shared blood with, and yet she treated daeron no different from them.
he remembered little of being an infant, only the warmth of her embrace and the comfort of her gentle lilt. daeron had been taken under her wing and into her arms, raised like her very own child. she sat by his sickbed even when the maesters of the hightower advised against it, she sewed him small trinkets and handkerchiefs with tessarion embroidered in blue thread, she praised his high valyrian when everything he had been taught of himself warred against it, she drew him into hugs and kissed his temple and cheeks despite ormund's disgusted scoldings about how unbecoming it was for a woman of her station to coddle a boy that was not hers. but daeron was hers, in the ways that mattered the most. blood was a thin thing, he had learned, and if there was one person in the whole seven kingdoms that the prince could rely upon, it was her.
so when daeron came to her, that agonizing night in tumbleton, she quickly rose from her spot by the hearth in her chambers, her jaw set heavily. daeron knew he looked an utter mess; with his cheeks wet and eyes still red. he had not noticed he had wept until his eyes began to burn anew at the sight of her. his feet had become planted to the cobble floor, his fists clenched by his sides. "mother," he had said, his voice scarcely above a trembling whisper. not my lady, not lady hightower, not even her name - but the most precious title of all.
before daeron could fix his mistake, she took him into her arms without a second thought. she accepted the name naturally, no comment made to scold or berate as ormund may have done. her hold was firm but not unkind, her touch gentle and grounding, and he melt into her embrace like a chick seeking warmth. "what has he done?" she questioned in a sharp whisper. daeron would tell her then, the words sticking in his throat, of what lord ormund had made him do. he spoke of how the man's hands cradled his face, proclaiming him a claimant to the iron throne. he had held vigilance in his own two hands, and drove sword into flesh with the outcome of death.
daeron heard her breath catch, even above the sounds of his shaky crying. his own hands clutched at her back, feeling the rigid lining of her corset beneath green silks. her grip tightened, body growing tense like a lioness prepared to strike for the sake of her cub. "daeron," she pulled back just enough to look into his watery eyes. "my sweet boy, what has he done to you?" it sounded less like a question and more of a threat to the man she called husband. her hands, smaller and gentler than ormund's, cradled his face with a somehow violent tenderness that only a mother could conjure. "do not fret," she said, wiping his tears and he had no choice but to lean into her touch like a kitten, "i know... the burdens of a king are too heavy for a boy. you are still a child, still meant to be protected. whatever ormund may do, whatever ormund may say, you must believe in me when i say we shall bear the weight together. you would make a good king, for you are noble and honorable and kind, but you are not meant to travel this path with him. you are deserving of guidance, not commands. ormund is a volatile man and he hides much from me, but you are mine. no harm shall come so as long as you return to me."
something very bad is going to happen, bobby franklin
bobby franklin x reader
“are you sure he’s the one?” that question haunts you. you were so sure that bobby was your soulmate, but thing after thing keeps happening and now you’re questioning everything.
+ i changed some things…also, i didn’t write about the soulmate curse thing because…i got lazy BUT i may write a second part to this!!!
“will you marry me?” bobby whispers in the kitchen one night. he’s on his knee in front of you, a velvet box and shaky hands held up to you.
you feel a tear run down your cheek, you’re frozen in shock. finally, after registering the puppy dog look in his eyes, you enthusiastically nod. marrying bobby was something you knew would be in your future, he was the only person who had ever made you feel ready for marriage.
over the next few months, you both spend time planning what you want your wedding to look like. originally, you wanted something super small and intimate. if you had it your way, it would be just the two of you, kat, and his family. the celebration would probably be just you guys signing the paperwork and having dinner after.
his family had other plans. their version of small and intimate was your worst nightmare. it was you both, kat, his immediate family, extended family, and everyone they’ve ever interacted with. you felt more embarrassed when they kept asking you questions about inviting your family, you had none. you had kat, your best friend.
fuck it, whatever, you just wanted to marry bobby. and if marrying bobby meant having an empty bride’s side and a super full groom’s side, then so be it. you spoke to clark about taking time off to have your wedding, and a honeymoon (maybe). he just nodded, swatting his hand, telling you to just go get married already. kat already knew the date and how long you were gonna want her there, taking into consideration her own financial needs.
the next day, you’re packing up your stuff and heading out to his family’s cabin. you’re only going to be there a week before the wedding, meaning three days without kat to be a buffer between you and awkwardness. three days until the bachelorette dinner, that you hope and pray is going to be a calm event (it won’t be).
after five hours of driving, you both stop by a rest stop to use the bathroom. you walk into the restroom, pausing at the peculiar sight of flies crowding around one of the stalls. you walk forward, cautiously, and look into the stall. the sight makes you want to throw up, suddenly losing all urge to pee. you run straight to the car, where bobby is waiting for you.
he takes in your freaked out appearance and asks you if you’re okay. you swallow and nod, telling him to drive. you grab a joint from your bag and light up, feeling the effects of the weed calm you down. you hand him the joint and he takes a hit, looking between you and the road, still concerned.
what seems like forever is only five more hours on the road before you finally reach another stop. it’s a bar, you laugh at the absurdity of it. you and bobby are stopping at a bar before going to see his family. he tells you to order him a beer while he goes to the bathroom, and you’re left alone waiting.
it takes a second for a strange chill to settle in your bones, but you try to ignore the rising feeling of dread that settles into your mind. it’s quiet in here, but it’s a bar and everything feels out of place. you feel like the walls are watching you and remembering something that it refuses to let you in on. bobby is in the bathroom, the bartender is a woman, and you’re alone at a table watching the janitor mop.
the janitor is an older gentleman, he doesn’t seem to be the reason for your sudden chill. at least, he wasn’t until his gaze locked on you. you frantically look at the bartender who is looking at you before walking to the back. you check toward the men’s restroom to catch a glimpse of bobby leaving, he’s complain about there being no paper towels and grab his beer from you before kissing you on the forehead and drinking it. you both will smile at each other, you hugging his arm to yourself before you drive the next three hours to his family.
none of that happens. instead, the bartender stays in the back and bobby is still in the restroom. you’d be more worried if he hadn’t eaten that suspicious salad from the diner, and if the janitor wasn’t making his way to you. you stand up, trying to create more distance, walking to the jukebox in the back. suddenly, a hand reaches in front of you and hits the jukebox. you flinch, grabbing the car keys between your fingers, ready to hit.
a song plays, one you remember. it’s a distant memory that comes from this song, you can’t place where you’ve heard it from. you turn around, looking at the janitor, now face to face. “this is a good song,” he tells you. you’re looking at him with wide eyes, bobby’s beer abandoned on the table you walked away from. you’re still looking around. he looks you up and down, settling on the hand gripping your keys, at the ring in your finger. he grabs the hand and you feel frozen. “are you sure he’s the one?”
the door to the bathroom opens and you hear bobby’s loud complains. you blink and suddenly the janitor is gone, empty space replaces where he once was. bobby grabs the beer from the table and drinks it without a second thought before turning to look at you. “you good, babe?” your face is frozen in shock, confusion lingers in the back of your mind.
are you sure bobby’s the one? you never had a second thought that bobby was going to be the guy you spend the rest of your life with. “i’m okay,” you whisper. your tone and the look on your face makes bobby really not believe you.
“what’s with the song? it’s creepy, here let’s change it.”
you shake your head, “we should go.” you walk to meet him halfway, grabbing the beer and taking the last sip of it before walking the glass to the bartender, or at least where she should have been. “i want to go.” you let out, shakily. bobby just nods and offers you his arm to hold as you guys walk back to the car. “i can drive, you should sleep.” he nods again and goes to the passenger seat. you let out a shaky breath and look back towards the bar, you swear you can make out the shadow of the janitor from the window. you don’t let yourself think about it more before driving away.
three hours later, you finally arrive at his family’s cabin. “we just drove thirteen fucking hours, how the fuck are we still alive?” bobby asks you when you park the car. you laugh, delirious, and shake your head. “let’s leave our shit, i need to fucking sleep.” you just not and let him lead you into the house. it’s dark, and you’re both trying to be quiet and not wake people up.
the lights turn on and you let out a shocked gasp. right in front of you was the creepiest painting you’ve ever seen. “did they seriously paint over the first wife?” you ask when the image finally registered in your brain. you trace over the figure with your eyes, the second wife of bobby’s brother is on the painting. that space was previously occupied by his first wife, who no one will speak about.
two days later, and you’re desperately calling kat. “kat i fucking need you here, i’m gonna go fucking crazy.” you’re pacing around the room, taking shaky drags of the joint. “like i will pay you to come here early and witness this crap, they’re fucking driving me insane.”
“what happened? last i heard was the painting thing,” she asks from the other side.
“they put me in the mom’s wedding dress and started cutting it and making alterations,” you start. “and then they took my necklace from me and won’t give it back and i even searched the room and it wasn’t fucking there anymore.”
“wait, sorry, back up. dress? i thought you had a dress? and you’re necklace, like your mom’s necklace? as in the last thing you have of her before she died?” kat interrupts.
“yes! that exact one, and i can’t fucking find it and bobby said i probably misplaced it. like that doesn’t even sound like me.” you take another drag, “and it’s been so weird. before we got here, we stopped at a bar and this old guy asked me if i was sure he was the one and then disappeared from existence.”
kat hums from the other side, “i’ll ask clark if i can take the rest of the week off, i’ll fly to you and i’ll keep you company and try to keep you sane. i needed to get in early anyways because a storm was supposed to hit soon and i don’t want to miss your bachelorette.” you just hum in agreement, trying not to lose your cool. “babe,” she starts, “are you, though?”
“am i what?” you ask softly.
“sure he’s the one? i get it if you’re having pre wedding jitters and it could be making everything feel more overwhelming than it is. but also, if you’re having doubts, it’s not too late to call it.”
“kat, i’m sure. i promise, just get here. please.” you beg her.
“i will, i promise.” with that the phone call ends.
you put your phone on the dresser and sit on the floor, holding your legs close to you. kat coming earlier than she was supposed to makes you feel better. the last couple of days have been a genuine nightmare, making you feel more alone than ever. tears start to fall from your eyes before you know it and you can’t do anything to console yourself.
you don’t know how long you’d been sitting there before bobby comes in and hastily pulls you into a soothing hug, asking what happened. you don’t tell him about the crazy dress stuff, just that you felt lonely and kat was coming early. he just sat there with you and rubbed your back until the tears stopped, kissing your forehead sporadically.
“i think i have something that will make you feel better,” he whispers. “you have to close your eyes and hold your hand out, okay?” you smile and close your eyes, nodding your head and holding your hands out.
you feel a cold chain hit your palms, a charm flopping in your hands. you don’t even need to open your eyes to know what it is. you open your eyes and break out into a huge grin, “you found it!” you laugh, throwing your arms around his neck.
he nods, putting one of his hands on your cheek to rub the tear tracks with his thumb. “yeah, my sister found it. she said she remembered you wearing it when they were helping you with something.” you continue staring at your moms ring on the chain in awe. “i’m glad kat’s coming, i know my family can be a little…much, so i’m glad she’ll be here.”
kat comes the next day, thank goodness. you find this out by surprise when bobby and kat jump onto the bed to wake you up. “surprise!” kat yells in your face. you’re face is frozen in shock, confused as to how she got here so quickly. “you were texting crazy and i got a same day flight, it was late as fuck, but i’m here. my best friend is getting married!” she celebrates.
bobby is watching your face light up with joy, “you were in on this?” you ask him, he nods. you grab his face and pull him into a kiss. “thank you,” you whisper, before kat pills you from the bed and you both start jumping up and down together.
there’s a knock at your room’s door. you open it to find bobby’s sister, holding an envelope with your name on it. your heart stops when you read the name of who it’s from. “yeah, i thought you said your parents were dead, so who is this?” she waves the envelope in your face before you grab it from her hands.
bobby groans from the bed and walks to where you and his sister were standing, “can you not mind your business? just because we have our relationship with our parents doesn’t mean everyone else does.” he’s grabbing her by the shoulders and pushing her out of the room.
“i’m just saying! do we really want a liar in our family?” she pouts, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “i don’t.”
“you are the liar in our family,” bobby scoffs out. “i lie, you lie, our brother lies, mom and dad lie all the time. get over it and get out.” he shuts the door in her face. he takes a second before looking at you, you’re still holding the envelope, a tear in your eye. “are you okay?” he whispers to you.
you look up at him and nod your head. your hands shake as you open the envelope, kat next to you as she rubs your back. you hadn’t spoken to your dad in years, not since you turned 18. you’re 22 now and about to be married. you take in a sharp breath when you see what the mail is. in bold, red letters, one question is on there: “is he the one?” the red is bloody and awful, it makes you nauseous. you turn the paper over and realize that it’s an invitation to your wedding, one you never sent. one you would never have sent.
bobby sighs, his throat bobbing as we swallows. “look, i know how you feel about your dad,” he watches as your gaze hardens and you start to shake your head. “try to understand why i did this, please. i had my whole family coming, you had kat, no offense kat.” she put her hands up defensively when bobby said her name. “and i know you wish your mom could be here, but your dad can! i spoke with him on the phone-”
“you what?!” you and kat interrupted his ramble.
he closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath. “i know, i shouldn’t have done that behind your back.”
“you really shouldn’t have! my dad is none of your business, he wasn’t your business when we met and he isn’t your business now! that is a man who has done irreparable damage to my life, and you wanted to invite him to our wedding?” you take a step back from bobby, holding the invitation up and turning it for him to read the red words. “this is the man you wanted front row while we said our vows?”
he’s staring at the invitation, the words written in red. “why is he asking if i’m the one?” you barely hear bobby whisper. “am i?”
“are you?” you whisper back. “my soulmate wouldn’t have done this behind my back.” suddenly, you’re thrown back into the bar, your memory of it. you remember the old man who asked you if bobby was the one, you think back to the horrible sight at the first rest stop. you’d been getting red flag warnings from every angle to not marry bobby, they’re making themselves apparent now.
“i need a drink,” you look at kat. “we’ll be back, but i need a fucking drink.” bobby just looks at you, devastated. he nods and you grab kat’s hand to leave. “we’ll be back, and then we can talk.” you take the keys to the car and walk outside. it’s starting to cool down, the dark clouds approaching closer and closer as the days go by. a storm, probably on your wedding day, another beautiful sign to pump the brakes.
before you realize it, you’re driving back to the bar with the strange janitor. “hey, i thought you wanted a drink? we just passed the bar?” kat is pointing out of the window.
“not that bar,” you say. a stray tear falls down your cheek, kat just sighs and grabs your lighter and a joint before lighting up. she offers it to you and you take it, inhaling deeply. “i need to figure something out. the bar, the janitor. he asked me the same thing that my dad did on the invitation, i have to know what’s going on.”
kat just nods, rubbing your shoulder. “we’ll figure it out, what’s the worst that could happen? worst case scenario: you end the engagement and stop the wedding? we can always abandon him and live on a farm, just you and me?” you laugh at her words, you’re glad to have your best friend with you. “seriously, don’t worry too much. it’s not like the world is going to end if you marry bobby.”
summary: there were many things you expected when you got into a relationship with aerion targaryen. of course, none of those included his youngest brother, aegon — or egg, as he liked to be called — and how he began interrupting any sort of alone time you had with your boyfriend, all because he ended up liking you so much.
w.c.: 3,6k
c.w.: no use of y/n, aerion is always two seconds away from kicking egg's ass bc he doesn't leave you alone, probably (definitely) ooc aerion and ooc egg, egg is an ipad kid, not rlly a serious fic I wrote this for gits and shiggles
a.n.: first fic on tumblr so im intimidated lol. english is not my first language so forgive any mistakes and typo. not proofread.
THE MOMENT YOU GOT INTO A RELATIONSHIP WITH AERION TARGARYEN, you knew what it would involve, more or less. More than one of your friends and acquaintances — some of his, even — had reached out to you to ask if you were sure of what you were doing, and saying he wasn't exactly... well, the most gentle person.
As much as you appreciated their worry, it was unnecessary, something even they had come to realize after seeing how Aerion was with you.
He was as loving to you as he was not to everyone else, and though you somehow tamed the rushes of anger that always coursed through him, he still had a rather minimal tolerance for the rest of the world. Including his brothers. Especially his brothers.
Especially Aegon.
The youngest of his brothers had become an issue neither of you had expected prior to him meeting you.
It had taken some time before Aerion decided to introduce you to his family, and seeing as you weren't one to push, the most his brothers knew of you for exactly four months after you officially got together was your name — after Aerion accidentally left his phone on the table, and a notification from you revealed your name to Daeron, who saw no appeal in protecting his brother's privacy.
And when Aerion texted you one night, asking if you'd be okay with meeting his family — so they'll finally get off my ass about this, he had said —, you saw no issue with it, and thus a dinner was planned.
The instant the two of you entered his dining room, your eyes had gone over each attending member of his family: his three brothers, his two sisters, his father, his uncle, and his two cousins. And the air was knocked out of your lungs.
They all had an unnatural kind of beauty to them. Most of them shared Aerion's silver hair and purple eyes, but even those that didn't appeared to come from another world.
Aerion had cursed under his breath, muttering about how if he had known half the family would be called, he'd have bailed on this whole thing. But you had maintained your composure, painted a smile on your face, and met his family with forcibly-steadied hands and a thumping heart in your chest.
In retrospect, there really had been no need for you to stress over this so much. As intimidating as the Targaryens were, they were all mostly nice and very charming to be around, and in the blink of an eye, you'd found your place among them.
But credit must be given where it was due. If it hadn't been for the youngest boy, Aegon, you would have taken a lot longer to get comfortable.
His seat had been directly to your left, and he had chatted your ear off all through dinner. All the names, relations and little fun facts you knew about the Targaryens came from him. He had even ended up pulling his iPad beneath the table to show pictures of the events he was telling you all about.
Aerion hadn't shied away from expressing his annoyance at the extravagance of the dinner, which nobody showed any surprise to. He mostly stuck to your side, chatting with you in the brief moments Aegon's attention was elsewhere.
Regardless, the dinner had gone well, and with this particular milestone out of the way, the two of you could finally relax and enjoy each other's company the way you so loved: privately and without shame.
However, Egg didn't seem to have gotten the memo.
"Oh, not this again —” Aerion hissed as he returned to the large living room of the Targaryen home — castle felt more accurate to you, but oh well — with a bowl of popcorn in one hand and two drinks in the other. He stopped in his tracks right at the doorway, when his eyes found the little figure sitting next to you, which had not been there when he left five minutes ago. "What the fuck is he doing here?"
Your eyes widening at his words, you opened your mouth to scold him for swearing in front of the nine year old, but said nine year old merely perked up at his brother's voice and turned his head around to look at Aerion from where he sat on the couch.
"Did you bring my chips? I left them in the fridge."
"No! Get out!"
Even you flinched at the volume and tone of his voice, so it was no surprise when Egg leaned back in his seat, his arms crossed over his chest, a sad pout twisting his young features. And in spite of how much you enjoyed being alone with Aerion, you felt a tug at your heartstrings from the sight of the expression on his face.
Wincing, you glanced at your boyfriend, a pleading look in your eyes. "Well..."
"No."
"Just this time."
"You said that last time."
"He's already here."
"He's always here!"
"Aerion."
"No. Not happening."
Silence fell upon the living room, your eyes meeting Aerion's purple ones with determination. Obviously, you understood where he came from, but you couldn't help it. Egg was such a sweet little boy, and he was always so nice and adorable that you couldn't help but cave to his every wish.
And five minutes later, the three of you sat in front of the TV, Egg in the middle happily munching on the popcorns from the bowl on his lap, often turning to you to share his thoughts about the movie.
"Why Egg?"
"It's short for Aegon," he nodded vigorously and looked away from you.
"Yeah, I figured that part out —”
Like any normal person with a functioning brain, you loved making out with your boyfriend. He was hot, and you were in love with him, so it wasn't like it was a chore for you. Nor was it for him, based on the blurry, heated memories that suddenly came to mind.
Maybe doing it out in public was less understandable, though. But after he had placed all the shopping bags you'd handed him over the afternoon in the backseat of his car, he had pulled you into short kiss, which then became a long one, and somewhere between that and now, it had turned into something else.
Neither of you noticed when Aerion's phone began vibrating in his pocket for a couple of minutes. And when he finally did realize, he had to pull his hands out from under your shirt to declined with an irritated huff.
Then he paused, glanced at his screen for a few seconds, huffed again and answered the phone.
"No fucking way," he ended up spouting after a few back and forth between him and whoever was on the other side of that call.
"He'll be fine there for a few hours." He argued again, "There's all the teachers, and toys, and all the shit kids play with."
Oh, it had to be about Egg.
“Dad —! Can’t you ask Daeron—?” He paused again, listening to his father, and without another word hung up the phone and shoved it in his pocket once more.
Holding back a laugh at the sheer rage painted on his face, you leaned against the car and cocked an eyebrow. “So? What was all that about?”
“My father’s meeting ran late. He’s asking me to pick Aegon up from school.”
“Okay, then.” You nodded, your body shifting to reach for the handle of the passenger door, but Aerion grabbed your wrist before you could do so.
“It’s Aegon.” He insisted, as though it would somehow change something about the situation.
You frowned, slowly nodding. “Tiny nine year old boy, silver hair, purple eyes, looks a lot like you? Yeah, I know the one.”
Rolling his eyes at your tone, Aerion let out a breath filled with annoyance. “I don’t have time to drive you home before picking him up.”
“I know.”
“So he’ll be in the car… with us… for the whole journey back home.”
“I also know that.”
And then his patience ran out, and he groaned, narrowing his eyes at you. “I’m saying the little shit will be glued to your ass.”
Which… yeah. True.
You didn’t mind, because Egg was still as sweet as he was when you first met him. Aerion did mind, however, since he was the one left out whenever the two — three — of you hung out together.
“You’re not jealous, are you?”
“Of him?”
“Yes, Aerion, of your nine year old brother.” You giggled, crossing your arms over your chest. “Seriously, though, you don’t have to be so mean to him. We’re always together. What’s the issue with him sometimes crashing with us?”
To this, he had no answer. He just rolled his eyes to the sky in this irritating yet charming way he did and released your wrist. He opened your door without a word, closing it behind you before walking to his side of the car.
“If it hadn’t been for that bastard, I would’ve won the game.”
Choking on your water, you turned to Egg with wide eyes, “Aegon!”
“What? The bastard cheated! All facts.”
“Oh, do you think they have the lemon sweets? You know the ones.”
Aerion frowned, briefly glancing at you before looking back at the road. “I don’t know, I’ll check when we get there.”
“Ooh, can I come?” Egg peaked his head in between both of yours, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Please?”
“No.” Aerion grumbled before using his hand to press against Egg’s face and push him back in his seat. “Shut up.”
Relentless, Egg turned to you. “Please?”
“No.” Aerion answered in your place.
“I didn’t ask you!” Egg scoffed from the back, glaring at the back of his brother’s head.
“I’m driving, and if I have to drag your puny little ass home by the ear, I will. Now shut up.”
Perhaps the whole reason the Targaryen house sat surrounded by gates and greenery was so strangers wouldn’t witness Aerion dragging Egg by the arm across the driveway, the young boy having planted his feet in the ground and screaming bloody murder for the whole world to hear, the way you did right now from the passenger seat of Aerion’s car.
You hadn’t gone to Aerion’s house in quite some time, you realized. There was no need to ask Aerion why he suddenly insisted on sleeping over at your place, or going home to yours, or him crashing over in your bedroom whenever he was free.
Were you complaining about your Egg-free life? Not really. Or at least, not right now, when Aerion lied on top of you, stealing your words with his mouth, barely letting you come up for air.
Definitely not right now.
You could've stayed there, in this situation, until the world imploded on itself. Nothing could bring either of you out of this bubble you'd formed around yourselves; that was how good you currently had it.
But right as his touch left flaming paths on your flesh as his fingers mapped out every inch of your skin, your phone began vibrating.
Not once.
Not twice.
But repeatedly, until you couldn't discern one notification from the next.
"Damn it," you sighed, closing your eyes as the moment between the two of you slipped right through your fingers. Aerion didn't raise his head higher than an inch above yours, but the annoyance coming from him was almost palpable.
You reached your arm out towards your nightstand, where you could vaguely remember having dropped your phone on some time ago. The light that suddenly blinded you as you lifted it from where it sat face down made you wince, and you used your free hand to rub your eyes.
do you want to play with me?
i'd ask daeron but he's asleep on the rug
he's boring also
you're nto
not
are you sleeping?
you haven't been at the house in a long time
did you breka up with aerion?
break
"Why the fuck do you have his number?" Aerion breathed out, exasperated at the texts. "Since when does he even have a number? He's nine."
Shrugging, you began typing a reply on your phone. "He got my number from your phone. And he just likes telling me about his day. He complains a lot about the kids in his class. Doesn't like them much."
With widened eyes and a raised eyebrow, Aerion sat up on your bed, letting the coldness of the room rush to you now that he wasn't acting as your personal blanket.
"What? So this is a common thing?"
"It's not that bad. He FaceTimes me on his iPad mostly, then he'll talk about his day while I do my homework, that's all." You told him, lifting yourself up on your elbows.
"Does my dad know about this?"
Nodding, you shrugged again. "Yeah, Egg's iPad uses your dad's phone number. He doesn't mind, so long as Egg doesn't uses it too much. He even says it's safer that way, since he doesn't have to watch him to make sure he doesn't sneak out again."
“I... don't know how I feel about this whole thing.”
“Well it’s not just him. I play online scrabble with your dad sometimes. and Aemon sends me book recommendations every other day.”
Aerion paused, "What?”
"Why is he bald, by the way? Can I ask?"
"Daeron drunkenly shaved off half his head one night. Then it looked awful, so we had to shave off the other half. Look."
Unsurprisingly, the boy displayed in the 0.5x pictures didn't seem to car about the admittedly horrifying hairstyle he currently had. With Maekar looking exasperated in the background, Egg smiled and gave a thumbs up to the camera.
Aerion woke up to find your half of his bed empty. No sound came from the bathroom, and with the sheets being cold, he assumed you must've been out of bed for some time.
While part of him felt something akin to relief from how comfortable you were with his family and in his home — sometimes too much, he thought to himself as he remembered you admitting to playing online scrabble with his father —, it also came with the borderline hatred from how comfortable they were with you.
People usually don't have to share their girlfriends with their families, do they? Why does it feel more like they tolerate him just so they can spend time with you.
Especially the youngest, insolent rat whose face had brightened up when Aerion had asked if you could spend a week here while your building was being fumigated. He hadn't even cared when Aerion roared at him to stay the fuck away.
As expected, it had been hard to find some alone time with you, because wherever you were, your shadow was not far behind. You didn't mind, of course, because the little rat turned into the sweetest, most innocent boy that's ever lived whenever you were in the vicinity, which immediately made Aerion out to be the bad one of the story.
The tiny fucker was a manipulative little shit, and Aerion will find a way to prove it to you.
After a brief shower to wash the night away, Aerion made his way down to the kitchen, hoping you'd be there. Fortunately for him, the first thing his eyes latched onto upon entering the room was your figure.
You sat at the counter, back to him, eyes on your phone.
Approaching, he hummed and wrapped his arms around you, leaning down to bury his nose in your hair. "How long have you been up? I thought you'd be worn out after —”
Eyes going round, you jammed your elbow into his gut, immediately shushing him. Aerion groaned, one arm flying to press against his stomach, where he'd taken the brunt of your strength. "What the fuck?"
Without a word, you nodded towards the fridge, and he could only follow your gaze. The fridge was open, which he hadn't noticed, and —
"Ugh, why is he here?" The words came out in unison from the two boys as soon as Egg peeked his head from behind the fridge's door and met his gaze.
Pinching your lips to hold in a laugh, because surely Aerion would hate you if you pointed out just how similar the two were, you merely lowered your phone to watch whatever was about to unravel.
"I was here first!" Egg countered, closing the fridge with a pie in hand. "Go back to whatever hole you crawled out of."
"I will stab you—"
"You can't keep letting him stick to you. Be on my side for once. Otherwise he'll never leave you alone."
"He just likes me because I play video games with him and I buy him food. He's not a bad kid," you laughed, but made a mental note to try and be less indulgent to the young boy.
As good as your relationship with Aerion was, it was bound to come to an end. You had been broken up for a week when the knock at your door came.
A week of lying in bed with a gaping hole in your chest.
A week of scrolling aimlessly through the pictures of the two of you on your phone.
Mostly a week of mourning how good it had been, and how good it would've been if only the two of you didn't argue so often.
The idea of interacting with a Targaryen for the time was so far out of mind that you didn’t expect the sight that befell you upon opening the door. Though, maybe you should have.
“Egg? What are you —”
“You can’t break up.” He hurried out, as though if he didn’t say everything at once, he’d never be able to. “Please, you have to come back. The house is so boring without you, and Dad says I’m not to contact you because Aerion is my brother and I have to stick by him. But I don’t want to stick by him!”
“Honey, it’s one in the morning, how did you get here?”
“I took a cab.” He panted, swallowing his saliva.
Later on, he gulped down his second glass of water as he sat on your couch. Your eyes hadn’t strayed from him at all, except for the brief moment you had used to text his brother. Of course, you knew he enjoyed your company and he thought of you not as his brother’s girlfriend but as his sister. But to come knocking at your door in the middle of the night to beg you to stay with his brother…
Yeah, you hadn’t fathomed he’d ever consider doing that. And yet.
“I didn’t think you cared so much about Aerion and his feelings.” You let out, part of you wondering if you should ask Egg how Aerion has been this past week, though you decided against it. You weren’t about to pull a nine year old boy into your issues, no matter how hard he tried,
But Egg just frowned, confusion filling his features, “Aerion? What are you talking about?”
No, you were the one frowning. Thinking back to his rapid little speech when you opened the door to find him, you questioned him again. “What were you talking about?”
Egg raised both hands as he shrugged, the way he always used his entire body to react. “I don’t care about Aerion. I just don’t want you to leave the family. But don’t worry about it. Even if you don’t want Aerion back, I’ve got a plan. What do you think about Daeron?”
Somehow, you were even more confused than you thought could be possible.
But independent as he was, Egg didn’t need a reply from you to keep the conversation going. “Father said I have to take my brother’s side now that you’ve dropped him. But if you got with Daeron, then I wouldn’t have to choose Aerion, because you’d still be in the family. Get it?”
Again, no reply from you apart from the gaping expression you gave at his words.
“If the drinking bothers you that much, I’m sure I can set you up with Valarr.”
And thank God for the sudden, incessant knocking at the door. Aerion was here, evidently, and he seemed pretty pissed.
“You fucking rat!” Aerion roared when his eyes found his brother sitting on the couch. “How did you even get out of the house? How did you get here?”
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”
Wrong thing to say, because Aerion’s eyes widened before he started making a beeline for the couch.
As the boy screeched and jumped behind the couch, you grabbed Aerion’s arm to pull him back, wincing at the situation. God, you should be sleeping right now. “No violence inside, please.”
“My dad’s livid!” Aerion added loudly, anger seeping through his voice. “His room was empty, and the window was wide open. He thought someone had taken him. Unfortunately not!”
Egg peeked his eyes from behind your couch, glaring at his brother. “Hey, I’m doing you a favor! I was trying to get her back for you!”
“What?” He turned to you, but you only shrugged. Though you did notice how Egg’s explanation wasn’t entirely truthful, you didn’t point it out to Aerion. He was mad enough at him already without the knowledge he was trying to set you up with other people.
Growling, Aerion reached out and grabbed Egg’s collar, dragging him towards the door while mumbling an apology to you under his breath. The only thing you could hear as you closed the door was the two boys arguing.
But truth be told, if the young boy hadn’t found his way to your place and forgotten his jacket, you likely wouldn’t have called Aerion again, which led to the two of you sitting down and talking about your relationship, and if you got back together some time later… well, Aerion didn’t like the reminder it was all thanks to Egg.
this idea was stuck in my head for so long I'm just glad I got this out lmao. I also had no idea how to end it so the ending is lowkey rushed sorry
please let me know if you enjoyed this, I rarely post the fics I write so I'd love some feedback!!! and also let me know if you can see that my knowledge of how romantic relationships work is limited lmao
so far we have sweet!reader and broodmare!reader but now let me bring you...
unbothered!reader!
she's married to aerion (im obsessed with him sorry) and she's from a westerosi house (like lannister/tyrell/tully, etc) and there's not a drop of valyrian blood in her - which infuriates aerion so much because he believes he deserves a pure valyrian bride like his targaryen cousins (even though baelor and king daeron are trying to stop incest marriages)
she births him a son (whom she adores and in the apple of her eye) and as far as she's concerned - she's done
she has seen her dad have multiple mistresses and whores (much like aerion) and she knows a woman's duty is heirs - which she has fulfilled by giving him a son who looks exactly like aerion
she's content to sit back, enjoy the life of a princess and pour all her love and adoration on her sweet baby boy (the child could be like 1-2 years old probably) and ignore aerion
sure, does it make her want to kill him when he doesn't acknowledge her trueborn son as his heir but rather only a half blood whelp? of course she does, but she knows maekar and baelor will always be by her side.
that's why she's stopped bothering herself with him - not getting upset when he spends his evenings with his targaryen cousins and his nights fucking whores that look like them.
which is why one night aerion comes to her chambers (a rarity, he always spends nights in a brothel) she's dead asleep not waiting for him, or hoping he'd come see her
he wakes her up and she's confused as hell - what is he doing in her room? she's done her duty, born him a son who looks like him and helps running summerhall as his lady wife. what more does he want?
when he tries to take off her nightgown (i imagine it's a pastel color because she prefers those colors compared to aerion's reds and blacks) she's even more confused lol
aerion is pissed when she asks him why should they sleep together again when she's already had his son lmao
I'm obsessed with him too, it's ok, we're in this together!!!
Aerion lowkey would be like this though... he doesn't care about what she does until he suddenly decides that he wants her attention, and when he doesn't get it, he just doesn't know what to do.
Unbothered!reader is happily living her life, enjoying the luxuries that come with being married to a member of the royal family and enjoying the time she can spend with her son. She has nice dresses and luxuriously decked-out chambers (which resemble no other room in Summerhall, nary a black or red velvet in sight), her pick of the succulent fruits that grow by Summerhall, and, by all accounts, an easy life. She barely sees her husband, which to her is all the better – it makes running Summerhall far easier. Aerion sees their son every now and then, but he's an absent father for the most part.
So, when he appears suddenly in her chambers, drunk and rudely pulling her from her peaceful slumber, she's annoyed. Her pathetic husband has crawled into her bed, pawing at the linen of her nightgown eagerly as he tries to bare her skin to him, and without thinking, unbothered!reader swots his hands away. Aerion stills, unsure how to react to the offence.
"Take it off, wife. It's time you did your duty," he'd mutter, his words slightly slurred.
To his shock, she'd stare at him indignantly and say no. No? She was saying no to him?
"No?"
"No," she repeated, "I have done my duty and given you your silver-haired heir. Why should I entertain you in my bed?"
Aerion stared silently, his anger and rage growing at the flippant tone his wife used with him, realising she was rejecting him. This was his right! She was his wife, and wives were to obey their husbands, not rudely scoff as he tried once more to tug the straps of her nightgown down.
"Go away, Aerion. It is late and your son has taken to waking with the sun. I wish to return to bed before he needs attention once more."
Unbothered!reader shuffled further down into the mattress, covering herself with the duvet and turning her body away from the prince, leaving him staring at her back in anger.
Drunk, angry, and also a little dumbfounded, Aerion groans and throws his limbs off the bed, pulling himself towards her chamber doors. Part of him wants to scream at her, rage and anger, and mayhaps even force her into his arms, but Aerion simply returns to his chambers, unsure what to make of this odd behaviour his wife is showing.
Unbothered!reader faces the shock of her life when she rises the next morning, venturing out to the nursery to collect her son for the day, only to see him seated in the arms of his father. Now it was her turn to be dumbfounded, staring as her sweet boy plays with the collar of Aerion's doublet, intrigued by the silver dragon embroidery that encases his throat.
"Good morning, wife. I do hope your rest was... peaceful."
You and Gwayne come up with an idea to keep Daeron safe, you just hope your sister believes you. Targ!reader but not connected to my other fics as the dance doesn’t happen in them.
I wrote the majority of this over a week ago so ginger Daeron is canon in this, and of course you voted for the fic I was most unsure about posting☠️
“What are you thinking about?” Gwayne asks wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head in your shoulder. You looking out into the gardens where Daeron is sat reading cuddled up with the dragons. The girls playing next to him while Baelor is sleeping in the nursery.
“What to do next.” You muse leaning into him. Wishing that this stupid war hadn’t started in the first place.
“How so?” Your husband asks kissing your shoulder.
“I want to stand with my sister.” You say, knowing she’d do the same for you. But not willing to risk your son’s life. “But Daeron will be a risk to her claim so I don’t know what she’ll do with him.”
“What of Aegon?” Gwayne suggests half heartedly, not liking his nephew’s. Him thinking them both the furthest thing from how prince’s should behave.
“You know as well as I he will be a cruel king, especially with Aemond by his side.”
“So we need to think of something that will keep all the children safe.” He says, voicing your thoughts. Also wanting to find a way Daeron will be safe from all possible harm.
“I have an idea, a terrible idea but an idea nonetheless.” You say turning around to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck. His still on your waist.
“What is it?” He asks up for any suggestion. The children meaning the word to him.
“We claim he’s ours.” You say quietly, not wanting to risk anyone possibly overhear your idea.
“What?”
“We say that the real reason he was send to ward was because I had him out of wedlock and Alicent and my father covered it up.” You elaborate, it being an incredibly risky idea.
“Everyone would think you a whore.” Gwayne rebuttals thinking it a good idea otherwise.
“They think that anyway.” You quip with a sad smile, your husband’s incredibly religious family having never liked you. “It would keep him safe.”
“We could ask your sister to legitimise him as our son.” He suggests, continuing on knowing you won’t change your mind.
“We can claim he’s is mine alone.” You offer, not wanting to affect Gwayne’s reputation.
“My love, I say this with all the love and care in the world.” He says with a smile, brushing some of your hair out of your face. “That boy is the spiting image of a Hightower, even removing the hair.”
“He does look like you and Alicent.” You admit reluctantly, normally loving how much Daeron looks like Gwayne. Now finding it inconvenient.
“Exactly, so I’m going to be necessary for this scheme.” He says, thinking of the next steps of your plan. “How are we going to get anyone to believe it?”
“I was sick.” You say in shock, remembering that you kept coming down with the flu that year. The maesters unable to find the reason, it clearing up not long after Daeron’s birth.
“What?”
“When Alicent was with child I was sick a lot.” You say in excitement never more grateful about being sick. “I was hardly seen in court and I was confined to my chambers.”
“You’re a genius.” Gwayne say softly, pulling you into a kiss.
“I’m only a genius if this works.”
-
“Come on Kepa is riding with Daeron on Tessarion.” You say to the girls one you reach the dragon pitts. You all having to sneak away in the night so Ormund can’t stop you. “You’re with me.”
“But I want to ride Skrykos!” Rosie pouts, not understanding why you’re leaving. Let alone in the middle of the night and have to be quiet about it.
“She’s coming with us but we need to leave quickly.” You say, adjusting the baby carrier you’re wearing. You youngest child sleeping against you.
“Why?”
“We just do sweetheart.” Gwayne says checking you’ve got everything. Helping Rosie and Lily onto your dragon. “We’ll explain once we’re there.”
“I’m sorry.” Daeron whispers to you while you give him a once over to check he’s alright.
“What are you sorry for sweetheart?” You ask, knowing he hasn’t done anything to warrant giving an apology.
“It’s my fault we have to leave.”
“We would have to anyway as I’m Rhaenyra’s sister.” You reassure him, cupping his face in your hands as you give him a forehead kiss. “Now just follow me and fly close, your father will pretend he’s not terrified but he hates flying so you’re in charge.”
“Ok muña.” He says a soft smile on his face. Grateful that you and Gwayne chose to raise him. Him aware Ormund was supposed to.
“I love you.” You say firmly, needing him to know.
“I love you too.” He responds pulling you into a hug, carful not to squish his brother, before going over to his dragon.
“Come on Rosie, lily hold tight.” You say to your girls before you take flight.
-
“Why are you here?” Daemon demands watching you and your family climb of your dragons. Rhaenyra and Jace stood behind him. Jace having grown so much since you last saw him.
“I’m here to speak to my sister.” You say stepping forward, ignoring Gwayne’s look of worry when you pass him your young son.
“You mean the queen.” Daemon corrects, not trusting you as you’re now a Hightower.
“I mean my sister the queen.” You clarify know how your uncle is.
“Sister.” Rhaenyra pushing past daemon, ignoring his look. You both meeting in the middle of your family’s. Gwayne stood infront of the children wary about the whole thing, having passed Baelor to Daeron.
“Rhaenyra.” You say softly, having missed your best friend and sister. Before remembering yourself and curtsying to her. “I mean your grace.”
“What are you doing here?” She asks softly, having been worried you would betray her.
“With the Hightower as well.” Daemon interjects glaring at your husband, Gwayne just rolls his eyes at the dig.
“I’m here with my husband and our children for asylum.” You say ignoring daemon and giving all your attention to your sister.
“What of the Hightower prince? Daeron isn’t it?” Daemon interjects once again, clearly desperate to be included in the conversation.
“That’s what I want to discuss, in private preferably.” You say giving your uncle a look before looking back at your queen. “Please.”
“Come.” She say wanting you to follow her back to the castle. “Jace can take your family to the throne room while we talk.”
“Rhaenyra.” Daemon hisses not trusting you.
“You have my protection, for the time being.” Rhaenyra says ignoring her husband.
“Thank you.”
“Come, we shall speak.” She says taking your hand to lead you away. Gwayne greeting Jace with respect. Daemon following you after threatening your husband.
-
“I have a confession.” You announce, once the doors shut behind you. Hoping this is the right decision. Allowing your anxiety to show on your face as you know it will help you.
“What is it?” Rhaenyra asks, scared you somehow had something to do with her being usurped.
“Daeron isn’t father’s son.” You say blurt out, not looking at your sister while you say it.
“So Alicent had a bastard.” Daemon laughs flopping into a chair after pouring himself some wine. “How has the boy got a dragon?”
“He’s my son.” You ‘admit’ playing with your wedding ring in discomfort. Praying they believe you.
“What?” Rhaenyra asks in confusion, never thinking that would be your confession.
“You remember that I was sick and had to be isolated in my chambers when Alicent was with child? That’s because she wasn’t, I was.” You explain, taking the wine your sister offers you before she sits downs in shock.
“Why does he look like Hightower then?” Daemon asks, the most untrusting of the two.
“Because Gwayne is his true father.” You responded giving him a look as though it’s obvious. “Do you remember that tourney? The one that was for Jace’s nameday that Gwayne competed in?”
“Why didn’t you marry?” Rhaenyra asks, unsure of why you didn’t drink moontea or marry to cover it up.
“He wanted to, he kept apologising for ‘stealing’ my virtue.” You say with a slight laugh, actually quoting your husband. Him having kissed you before your betrothal and then feeling guilty for it. “But father was trying to marry me off to the Lannister’s and Gwayne had to leave back to old town the next day. I didn’t know I was with child until it was too late, so father made Alicent pretend he’s was hers.” You explain, looking at the floor as if in regret. “And well, you know the rest.”
“Why are you telling me this now?” Rhaenyra asks, believing you. Having known how much you’ve cared for the boy since his birth. This being the best explanation for it as you never cared much for Alicent’s other sons, Helaena being different.
“Because it’s the best way to keep him safe.” You say, actually telling the truth. The realm viewing him as your son instead of your father’s would make him a lot safer. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
“How do we know you’re telling the truth?” Daemon asks, believing you. Him knowing he’d to the same for his children.
“You don’t.”
-
“Muña!” Lily shouts running over to you when you enter the throne room after Rhaenyra and daemon. Her agreeing to declare Daeron as your true born son. You picking up your youngest daughter and giving Gwayne a nod, letting him know everything has gone to plan. “Baelor bit me!”
“Oh no, that not good.” You say knowing your girl is being dramatic as he doesn’t have teeth yet. “How was it with your cousin?”
“Fine.” She says resting her head on your shoulder. “He talk with Kepa for ages.”
“Is it true?” Jace asks his mother, having been informed by Gwayne what you’ll of been talking about.
“Is what true?” Rhaenyra asks, looking at your family with a smile on her face. Wishing she had gotten to spend more time together with you before all this started.
“About Daeron?” Jace clarifies, not sure what to think but having a feeling it’s the truth. Why else would you go through all this trouble?
“That he’s my sisters true son? Yes he is.” Rhaenyra confirms, noticing the confused look on your eldest’s face.
“What?” Daeron asks looking between you and Gwayne. “What is she talking about?”
“We’ll explain everything later darling I promise.” You say gently, knowing you’ll have to lie. Your boy being too kind and soft for deceit knowing he deserves better.
“You have pledged your loyalty to me, so you may go to the Vale.” Rhaenyra declares, knowing Jeyne Arryn will allow it given your dragons. “You’ll be safe there, on the condition you look after my sons and when I ask you fly back and fight for me.”
“As long as it’s just me, we have a deal.” You say not letting your son partake in war.
“Deal, I’ll write you a letter to give to lady Jeyne. She’ll accept you.”
“Thank you Rhaenyra, truly.” You say to you sister wanting to give her a hug. Her notacing your hesitation and makes the first move, pulling you into her arms and holding you tight. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too.” She whispers back, having missed you more than anything. “Thank you for trusting me.”
i lovee your work so much i like vist ur page so many times and what do u think about valarr having a big crush on his cousin and goes up to maekar to beg to marry her and what maekar would think about it yk ?
I WILL GET ON MY KNEES AND BEG—Valarr Targaryen
Valarr Targaryen x Targ!reader
summary: Valarr is ready to do anything to win your hand in marriage, even getting on his knees and begging his uncle.
words: 1.3k
cw: MDNI 18+ targcest, nothing really other than that, reader is Maekar's eldest daughter, but no physical features are described.
You were a Goddess. He was not positive if it was the Old, The New, the Flames, the Lord of Light, but it did not matter it. You were a Goddess of Beauty to him all the same.
You were absolutely everything to him. The reason for his existence he thought often. His heart walking around, blessing everyone for your mere existence.
You danced around the floor with Aegon, a wide grin pulling at your beauty lips as your head was tilted back your laugh spilling out into the loud hall. It would have gone unnoticed to anyone else due to all the other sounds, but not to Valarr. Never to Valarr.
He stood on the outskirts watching, waiting patiently for his turn after you made it through your younger siblings. That was always the deal, and Valarr would have waited years to simply have the pleasure of dancing with you.
Though he much proffered when you would drag him off into the gardens, slipping past all the guards. Not because you would kiss him, though that was always a plus. He liked the quiet. When the two of you could exist without the watchful eyes and the pleasured of the crown.
Your eyes looked with his again, and you smiled at him. He could feel his own lips turn up slightly before Aegon pulled you once more attempting to spin you.
Valarr was so lost in his thoughts that he did not even notice the presence next to him. Though he probably should have due to the loud drunken steps, and the stench of wine that never quite left the man.
"If you stare any longer you might scare her off," Daeron mused, a lazy grin pulling at his lips. "Though I think she does like your attention."
He rolled his eyes, "I am admiring my future wife is all."
"Are you sure about that?"
The mismatched eyes turned meeting his violet ones. "What?" he asked, in confusion.
"My father has been speaking to Lord Tyrell about marrying his grandson," he answered with a shrug.
Valarr's eyes widened in horror. This was the worse possible thing he had ever heard in his entire existent. The thought of you married to anyone that was not him. That just would not do!
There had never been a formal betrothal, but he thought he did not need one. It was not secret how fond you were of the other, and he thought…His eyes then moved to the high table looking to Maekar who sat beside Baelor.
He would make this right. He then decided.
The Prince was moving through the crowd without a second thought, pausing before you to alert you of his intentions. You looked up as if you had felt his presence meeting his eyes. You beamed at him and he lost his train of thought pausing monetarily in his place as he simply stared at you, "Have you finally come to dance with me, Val?" you asked.
He could hear his heartbeat picking up. Your smile, your beauty, your angelic voice and the way you said his name. "No not yet, my love," he told you gently.
You frowned slightly, and it almost made him forget the task at hand due to how much he hated that sight. He moved forward cupping your face gently. No one in the crowd even paused to look at you continuing to spin around the pair of you, "I have to go have a talk with your father," he said.
The disappointment from only a moment ago, replaced by something that he had seen so often with you. In the quite moments when it was only you and him. No loud noises. No distractions.
It was the love you held for him. The one you confessed so loudly compared to his quieter admissions. It was the all consuming feeling that filled you both.
"Are you…" you trailed off, but you did not need to finish. He knew you better than that, as if you were an extension of his own thoughts and you never needed to complete yours, because he always knew.
"I am," he nodded in agreement. He reached down gripping your hand before pressing a kiss to the back of it.
"Do not leave me waiting long," you told him.
He grinned at you, "I wouldn't dream of it."
With a strength he did not quite know he possessed he pulled himself away from you, and began toward your father. He sat talking about something with his eldest brother, Valarr's father. The younger's face was a gruff as always as he rolled his eyes at something the elder said.
And before he knew it he was standing in front of the two men, "Valarr
"I request an audience with you," he suddenly declared, looking at his uncle.
Maekar turned looking to his brother, "What the fuck is he talking about?"
Baelor shrugged, "It is Valarr than requests an audience, Maekar. Not I," he reminded the younger.
He scoffed then turned back toward his nephew, "What the fuck do you want?" he then asked, not moving from his seat.
Valarr was undettered. This was Maekar's typical personality. Cold, stern, and harsh with his words, but underneath all that was a man who loved his children. Who loved you his first born, his precious girl, and only wanted the best for her.
And he believed he was that for you.
He puffed his chest out slight, trying to appear bigger than he was. He wanted to seem impressive, to seem worthy, but that was harder to do with a man that had earned the name of the Anvil.
"I wish to marry your daughter,"
"No," he answered immediately.
The young man's face immediately fell, but he was not going to take rejection that easily, "I will get on my knees and beg," he said.
The uncle's mouth turned into a grin as if he was tempted to see just how far he was willing to go. "Maekar," Baelor warned, knowing his son would do exactly as he said.
"I will do it," he repeated.
"You will get down on your knees in front of all these guests? The heir to the heir on his knees begging for my daughter's hand like an insolent child?" the stern man asked, leaning forward.
Baelor's eyes flickered around watching half in intrigued,and the other. making sure no one was witnessing this scene, because his brother was being his stubborn self.
Valarr nodded immediately, "Yes I will," he took a deep breath steadying himself, "I love your daughter more than anything in this world, and I will work every day to be the man she deserves. Getting on my knees and begging seems inadequate to the love I hold for her so if that is what you need I will l do it."
He then went to sink to his knees, but his uncle's hand shot out stopping him, "Do not get on your fucking knees. Maekar let out a sigh, shaking his head, "I will discuss it with your father. Now go and dance with my daughter so she will stop glaring at me," he instructed.
Valarr grinned widely, "Thank you," he said, with a bow before practically sprinting off toward you. As you awaited him, your hand already extending indicating exactly what you wanted. Both men watched as he complied, as you both danced around, matching grins on your face.
"Is there even much to discuss?" Baelor asked, once his eldest was out of ear shot.
"Oh, no. She already asked, but told me not to do anything until he did himself. I do not possess the ability to tell her no, and neither does he it seems."
a knight of the seven kingdoms tags: @kyvillasstuff @goldengirl86 @scarletwolfxox @witch-of-letters @confusedwhitegirl10 @itspbjellytime
can we see how they first met and then started living together then had maegor then how everything went down hill pls?
Of coursee you can anon!
wc: 5.1k | I really locked in for this, I love them so dearly [ nothing good grows here ]
So, naturally, you met Aerion because your tire blew out on the side of the road. The corner store parking lot, actually.
You'd only had your license for two weeks, and your dad had spent the better part of six months squirreling away enough money to buy you your very first car for your sixteenth birthday. It wasn't anything special—old enough to have quirks, small enough that your grandmother still called it "that little thing"—but it was yours.
That morning, your grandmother had sent you to the store for butter and eggs. The bananas on the counter had already gone spotty, so you were going to spend the afternoon baking banana bread together. Instead, you came back outside to find the driver's side front tire completely flat.
You had just enough money left in the back pocket of your shorts to stop for gas on the drive home. You didn't know how to change a tire. You didn't have enough money for a tow truck. You definitely didn't have enough money for a mechanic. And calling your dad wasn't an option; he'd bought you the car, he was still at work, the last thing you wanted was to tell him you'd somehow managed to break it before you'd even really driven the damn thing.
The cashier had come outside once she saw you just standing there by the car. She was a middle-aged woman with gray hair and kind eyes, the sort who always called you by a pet name when you paid for your candy bars in middle school. She took one look at the tire and sighed.
"Oh, honey. You alright? Do you have a spare? A jack? I can ask my husband to—"
You shook your head quickly, knowing you didn't have the money for whatever her husband might charge you either. "It's okay. I'll call someone. I'm okay. Really."
She didn't push further. Instead, she pulled out her phone and tapped a few buttons. "The Targaryens have that auto shop just down the road, honey. They're good people. Always fair. I'm sure one of them could get you back on the road in no time."
Before you could protest, she was already talking into the phone, asking for Maekar. You were mortified, truly. It was your first solo drive and somehow you had already managed to embarrass yourself.
She gave you a bottle of water and told you to sit inside at one of the tables in the corner. You nursed the water bottle like an emotional anchor while you stared at the little bell above the door.
Five minutes later, the bell jingled, and Aerion walked in.
You knew him by word of mouth more than anything. A few years older, already out of school, working full-time at his family's shop. Everyone in town knew the Targaryens. They weren't bad people, but they were the sort of family that made other parents grateful their own kids weren't quite so wild. Aerion in particular had a reputation for being difficult. Too quick to get into fights, too willing to take off without telling anyone where he was going, too good at convincing people to do things they probably shouldn’t.
"Y'gonna keep starin' at that water, or you wanna show me the dead car?"
He wore some band t-shirt under a faded flannel, jeans with grease stains around the knees, a pack of cigarettes in his pocket, and his hair was messy. He also wasn't smiling.
You stood up, already feeling embarrassed all over again. "I'm sorry. It's... outside."
He followed you out to the parking lot with his hands in his pockets, eyes already scanning the tire. You stood awkwardly off to the side clutching the now-warm water bottle and feeling completely useless.
"You ran over somethin'?"
"I don't know. I just came out and it was like this."
"This shit's too flat to change here. Gotta tow it. Shop's not far." He told you. Because of course you had to tow it. The whole ordeal was suddenly going to cost you money you didn't have.
You told him, against your own will really, that you couldn't afford a tow truck. That you'd rather just call someone else to help you. That your dad was going to be pissed enough without you spending money you didn't have.
"Fuck's sake... put the damn thing in neutral and stop cryin'. I'll push it myself. It's what, two blocks? Just hop in and steer."
He was already behind your car, hands on the trunk, pushing before you'd even processed what he said. You barely knew how to drive, and now you were steering a car with a flat while some guy you'd never spoken to before pushed you down the road in the middle of summer. The embarrassment was so overwhelming you were considering never driving again.
By the time you got to the shop, you were sweating and your hands were shaking on the wheel. Aerion didn't even seem winded. He just walked into the shop, tossed the keys to some older man you assumed was his father, and said, "Girl's tire blew. We're fixin' it."
Maekar looked at you, then at his son, then back at you. He sighed. "How much money you got, sweetheart?"
Your throat went tight. You pulled the last of your cash out of your pocket, counting it twice like somehow it might have multiplied in the last ten minutes. It hadn't.
Maekar gave Aerion a look. "We're not takin' her last twenty bucks, boy."
"She needs a new tire. We ain't givin' her a damn tire for free."
His father just clenched his jaw before taking a fist to his shirt and dragging him off toward the back of the shop. You sat there in the waiting area, listening to them argue in low voices. Something about work, money, you, whether or not Aerion was being an idiot.
Eventually, Maekar came back, his expression softer. He told you they'd put a used tire on free of charge, that if you wanted to you could come back for a new tire once you had the money. He handed you a card with the shop's number scrawled on the back. "Call if you need anything else, alright? Don't let my boy scare you. He's just a pain in my ass."
That should've been the end of it. A weird, awkward morning that you'd tell your friends about later while they laughed about how you managed to mess up your first car in record time.
But you felt bad. So you went back the following afternoon with the banana bread your grandmother helped you bake, wrapped in plastic wrap, along with fifty dollars you'd scraped together from your wallet and begged your father for. Maekar wasn't there, but Aerion was, bent over the hood of some old truck with grease on his knuckles.
He looked up when you cleared your throat.
"This is for you." You held out the bread and the cash. "For helping me."
Aerion stared at the bread like it was a trick. Then at you. He took the money first, shoved it in his pocket without counting it, then picked up the banana bread.
"D'you walk here just to give me this?" He asked it like he couldn't really believe that anyone would bring him something homemade.
"And to say thank you. I really appreciate it."
He was quiet for a while. Then, without looking at you, he said, "You're an idiot, you know that? Walkin' all this way. Just put a perfectly good tire on that car and you walk here."
You didn't want to drive so soon after the first incident. Honestly, you didn't want to drive at all. But you also didn't want to admit that to him, so you just shrugged.
He sighed, unwrapping the bread and taking a bite. "This is good, at least."
You never expected to see him again after that. Not in any meaningful way, at least.
Only your dad insisted you get a part-time job. Officially, it was to teach you responsibility, but you suspected it was because of the car and the whole tire incident. You ended up working at the little diner near your grandmother's house.
The shop sat a couple of blocks from the diner, and every weekday, sometime between four and five, one of the boys from the garage came in to pick up food. Most days it was Maekar, sometimes Egg if it was a weekend, and occasionally a man you recognized as one of their uncles.
And every now and then, it was Aerion.
He never said much. He'd sit at the counter, order for everyone else—burgers, fries, coffee, a milkshake for Egg—and just sit there while you refilled coffee or brought out plates. When his food would come out, he'd mutter a "see ya" and walk back out carrying a giant to-go bag. Then one afternoon, he stayed.
He sat there for nearly an hour, slowly picking at a burger and fries, watching people come and go. You kept an eye on him, mostly because you didn't know what else to do. Also partly because your manager had grown increasingly concerned that he might be casing the place.
When he finally stood to leave, he stopped by the counter. You were wiping it down when he said, "You still scared of drivin'?"
You hesitated. You hadn't given much thought to the fear since the tire blew, but you'd been avoiding the car whenever possible, riding your bike or walking to work instead. "I didn't say I was scared."
"You didn't have to. Meet me at the shop tomorrow after your shift. We'll fix that."
"Fix what?"
"How to drive, dumbass. Bring your car."
Except you never actually ended up driving your car.
You spent the next twenty-four hours in a state of anxious disbelief. You told your grandmother, who immediately said you shouldn't go because you hardly knew him. You told your dad, who said it was probably fine but maybe you should bring pepper spray just in case. In the end, you went. Because you were sixteen, and for some reason, the idea of a boy teaching you how to drive—instead of your dad—felt like something you needed to do.
Aerion was already outside the shop, leaning against his truck with a cigarette between his fingers. He didn't smile when he saw you. He just nodded toward the passenger seat. "Get in. We're goin' somewhere nobody'll yell at me for teachin' you on private property."
You spent the next two hours in an empty parking lot behind the county fairgrounds, with Aerion occasionally barking instructions while you practiced turning, stopping, and starting without stalling the engine.
"You're too stiff," he said after you nearly ran over a parking block. "Relax. It's not gonna bite you."
"I'm trying."
"No, you're overthinkin'. Drive like you're not scared of it. You can't control it if you're white-knucklin' the fuckin' steering wheel."
You did relax after that. A little. And by the time the sun set, you were almost enjoying yourself.
It became a habit after that.
Every Tuesday and Thursday after your shift, you'd stop by the shop. Sometimes he'd make you practice parallel parking until you were ready to cry. Sometimes he'd drive the two of you out toward the Blackwater and make you navigate the winding roads back into town. He never praised you much. Just the occasional "Better," or "There y’go."
Looking back, you're not sure which happened first: you stopped being afraid of driving, or you started looking forward to seeing him.
By the time you were seventeen, you were technically his girlfriend. Though nobody had actually said the words out loud.
It started with small things. Sitting on the bed of his truck after your lessons, sharing fries while he smoked and complained about his older brother's drinking. Then you started waiting for him after his shifts, bringing him coffee because he was always tired. One day he asked if you wanted to ride with him to get parts for a car. The next day, he asked if you wanted to go fishing that weekend. Then he started picking you up whenever you worked a closing shift at the diner.
He never held your hand in public. He barely even touched you most of the time. But sometimes, sitting on the tailgate at night, he'd scoot just a little closer. Or he'd let his arm brush against yours when you walked side by side. Or he'd hold your jacket when you went inside the gas station for snacks. But one day you were learning how to change oil, and the next you were kissing him behind the shop after closing while the sky turned dark. It wasn't planned. But suddenly you had a boyfriend who kissed like he'd been waiting to do it for a long time and didn't know what to do now that he was actually allowed.
Your father and grandmother didn't exactly approve. They liked you, trusted you, thought you had a good head on your shoulders. But Aerion was... Aerion. He was older, he didn't go to school, he had a temper, he lived alone in some trailer off the main road. The boy who got into fights, who smoked, who never quite fit in anywhere. They didn't forbid it, but they certainly weren't thrilled.
That summer, your dad sat you down at the kitchen table and asked if you were serious about this. If you knew what you were doing. You said yes to both, even though you weren't entirely sure what "this" even was. It wasn't like he'd asked you to be his girlfriend. The two of you had just fallen into each other without ever making any real decisions about it.
You spent a lot of time at his place that summer. A tiny trailer that always smelled like cigarettes and motor oil, with a couch that had seen better days and a kitchen that barely got used. He was messy, but not gross. Just... lived-in. Like he never had anyone to clean up after but himself, and he couldn't be bothered most of the time.
He'd let you sit on the counter while he made you eggs, even though he wasn't much of a cook. He'd sit on the floor beside you while you flipped through the TV channels because the remote was broken and only worked from up close. He'd bought one of those plastic storage bins for your stuff, because you kept leaving things at his place. Socks, hair ties, your favorite sweatshirt, a paperback you forgot about until you saw it again two weeks later. They all went into the bin.
He didn't talk much about his family, but sometimes his brother Egg would show up unexpectedly, looking for something or just killing time. Egg was loud and friendly, the kind of person who immediately made you feel welcome. He'd tease Aerion about finally having a girl over, and Aerion would tell him to shut up, but he never looked embarrassed. Just annoyed in a way, but that didn't really mean anything.
You'd never been in love before, so you didn't know if this was it. But when he fell asleep with his head in your lap, when he let you run your fingers through his hair without complaining, when he'd drive all the way to your house just because you texted that you were bored—it felt like something important.
You didn't plan to move in with Aerion either. By the time you graduated high school, you'd lost both your father and your grandmother. It happened in the same year. Your dad's heart gave out one morning while he was at work. Six months later, your grandmother passed in her sleep. You inherited the house, the little money they had left, and a whole lot of silence. One day you had a family, and the next, you didn't. The whole town looked at you with pity. People brought casseroles and left them on your porch like that was supposed to fix anything.
The house was too empty. Every room held memories that hurt to think about. You spent most of your time at Aerion's trailer because at least there was noise there. The TV was always on, even if no one was watching. He'd leave his tools scattered around, he'd forget to close the cabinets, he'd fall asleep with his boots still on. And somehow, it was easier to be there than alone in your childhood home.
One night, you were sitting on his couch, staring at a blank TV screen while he was in the shower. You thought about going back to the house, walking through the front door to a kitchen that no longer smelled like pastries or whatever dinner your grandmother made. You thought about how you hadn't even unpacked your lunch because you hadn't felt like eating.
When Aerion came out, towel around his waist, water still dripping from his hair, he looked at you and said, "You're stayin' tonight."
That was the first night you stayed. Then you stayed another night. Then a week. Then you stopped going back at all.
There wasn't a conversation. You literally never discussed it. You just... never left. He never asked you to, but he didn't stop you from moving your things in, either. You brought your clothes, your books, your grandmother's old blankets. You cleaned the kitchen, organized the cabinets, bought groceries for the first time. He grumbled about it, about you changing things, but he never told you to stop.
Living together wasn't easy. He was still messy. He still forgot things, still came home late sometimes, still didn't tell you where he'd been. But he also started doing little things, too. Making sure the coffee was ready before you woke up. Leaving his jacket on the back of your chair because he knew you got cold easily. Fixing the broken screen door so you could open it without worrying about bugs.
He wasn't the most affectionate, but sometimes he'd sit next to you on the couch and let you lean against him. Or he'd brush his fingers through your hair when he thought you were asleep. Or he'd reach for your hand while you walked through the parking lot at the grocery store, even if he let go as soon as you got inside.
You loved him in a way you couldn't explain to anyone else. It wasn't soft or easy. It was stubborn and unyielding and sometimes frustrating. But it was real and it was all yours.
Maegor was conceived on his creaky mattress, in the middle of the afternoon, because he came home from work early and you were wearing one of his old shirts and nothing else. Neither of you were thinking about anything except each other. It was just like any other time he came home and couldn't keep his hands off you.
"You're so fuckin' beautiful," he murmured against your neck, his hands already sliding over your thighs and under the shirt.
It was the kind of thing he only said when he was inside you. When his guard was down, when he didn't have time to second-guess himself. You didn't think much of it at the time. You just kissed him harder.
He held your face while he thrust into you, and you moaned at how he was looking at you. Like he needed you more than he needed air. You told him you loved him, and he didn't say it back, but he buried his face in your neck and groaned, and you knew.
You didn't find out you were pregnant until nearly two months later. You'd been tired, your chest sore, your stomach off. You thought you were just run down from working extra shifts at the diner. When the test pulled two pink lines, you sat on the bathroom floor of his trailer for almost an hour, staring at it, trying to decide what you were going to say to him.
He came home later than usual, smelling like cheap scotch and complaining about having to haul Daeron out of the bar before he started something stupid. You were sitting in the kitchen, holding the pregnancy test in front of you with shaky hands.
He stopped in his tracks when he saw your face. "What's wrong, baby?"
You couldn't bring yourself to say anything. You just kept holding onto the test until he saw it. And he looked at it for a long time. Then at you. Then back at the test.
"Fuck." and "Shit."
That was all. He didn't say anything else. Just sat down in the chair across from you and stared at the floor. You felt like you might be sick. He didn't look angry. He didn't look happy, either. He looked overwhelmed.
"I'm sorry," you said, even though you didn't know why you were apologizing.
"Don't do that. Don't fuckin' apologize."
But he still didn't say anything else.
For weeks, it was like living with a stranger. He came home, he ate, he went to bed. Sometimes he'd touch your stomach when you were asleep, like he was trying to convince himself it was real. But he never talked about it. Never asked how you were feeling. Never mentioned the future.
You didn't push him. You were scared, too. You didn't know how to be a mom. You didn't know what this meant for the two of you, for your job, for the trailer you'd turned into a home.
One night, after a particularly long shift at the diner, you came home to find him sitting at the kitchen table with a stack of papers. He looked up when you walked in, and his expression was so serious it made your stomach drop.
"I went to the doctor today," he said. "Got a list of shit we need to do. I don't—fuck, baby, I don't know how to be a dad. But I'm not leavin'. I don't want you thinkin' that shit. I'm stayin'. Alright?"
You sat down across from him, your eyes stinging. You'd spent weeks convinced he was going to leave, that you were going to do this alone. But there he was, with a list of prenatal vitamins and scheduled doctor's appointments, with a look on his face.
"I'm gonna do right by you. By the kid. I just... need a minute to figure it all out."
You were nineteen. Aerion had only just celebrated his twenty-first birthday a few months before. Neither of you were ready. But he tried. He tried so hard; it was perfect.
Once the shock wore off, Aerion threw himself into preparing. He started working extra hours, saving money. He fixed up the trailer, made sure everything was safe, installed a car seat in his truck before you even needed it. He went to every doctor's appointment, sat quietly while the nurse talked about nutrition and sleep schedules, and held your hand so tight you thought he might break your fingers.
He still wasn't good with words. But he did things. He made sure you always had water. He rubbed your back when you couldn't sleep. He built the crib himself, even though it took three tries and a lot of swearing. And one night, when you were lying in bed with his hand resting on your growing belly, he said, "I love you, you know. Even when I'm bein' an asshole."
You almost cried. Because that was the first time he'd ever said it without being inside you. Without being drunk or angry or half-asleep. He just said it.
Maegor was born in the fall, after sixteen hours of labor that left you exhausted and him terrified. When the doctor handed you the baby, Aerion stood next to the bed, staring at the tiny face with wide, disbelieving eyes.
"Fuck, he's small," he whispered, like he hadn't been preparing for this exact moment for the last seven months.
You laughed, even though you were crying. He reached out hesitantly, his rough fingers brushing against Maegor's tiny hand, and when the baby wrapped his fingers around Aerion's thumb, something in Aerion's face changed.
He looked at you, then back at the baby, and said, "We're not fuckin' this up."
For the first year, you were a family. Appointments, sleepless nights, diapers, bottles, the constant hum of a baby monitor. Aerion learned how to change diapers without gagging, how to hold Maegor like a child and not some car part, how to soothe him when he cried in the middle of the night.
He wasn't perfect. He got frustrated when Maegor wouldn't stop crying. He complained about never having any time to himself. He still disappeared sometimes to "clear his head," which really meant going to the bar and smoking too many cigarettes. But he always came back. He never made you feel like you were doing this alone.
Maegor adored him. From the moment he could focus his eyes, he'd stare at Aerion like he was the most fascinating thing in the world. When Aerion held him, he'd quiet down instantly against his chest. When Aerion talked to him, he'd coo and wiggle like he understood every word.
It started small.
Aerion started staying out later. Not every night, but enough that you noticed. He'd come home smelling like alcohol, his eyes red, his mood sharp. He'd snap at you over nothing and apologize an hour later, claiming he was just tired.
The fights got worse. They'd start over something stupid—laundry, dishes, money—and escalate until you were both yelling, your voices echoing through the trailer while Maegor cried in the other room. You'd stare at each other afterward, both of you breathing hard, both of you knowing you'd crossed a line but neither of you wanting to apologize first. He'd storm out, slamming the door behind him, and you'd sit on the floor with Maegor in your arms, trying to stop crying so he wouldn't get even more upset.
He didn't cheat. You were sure of that. But he stopped trying. He stopped talking to you about anything real. He stopped touching you unless it was out of habit or frustration. He'd come home, eat, sit in front of the TV, and go to bed. Sometimes he wouldn't even say goodnight.
You tried. You asked him what was wrong, what you could do to help. You suggested counseling, date nights, anything to fix whatever was breaking between you. He'd shut it all down. "We're fine," he'd say, even when you clearly weren't. "Just give me some fuckin' space."
The space became a wall. And then it became a chasm.
The night it all fell apart, Maegor was eighteen months old. You'd spent the day cleaning the house, trying to make everything feel normal. Aerion had been gone all day, working on some car at the shop, you guessed. You weren't sure what time he'd be home. When he walked through the door, you could smell the whiskey on him.
"Where have you been?"
"Out." He'd tossed his keys on the counter, not looking at you.
"All day? You couldn't call?"
"I was busy, alright? Christ, do I need to report every fuckin' move I make?"
You'd had enough by then. You were tired of feeling like you were raising Maegor alone. Tired of walking on eggshells. Tired of loving someone who didn't seem to love you back anymore.
"I can't do this anymore, Aerion," you said, your voice breaking. "I can't keep pretending everything's fine when it's not."
He finally looked at you, his eyes hard. "So what, you're leavin'? You're takin' my son and leavin'?"
"I don't want to! But you don't want this anymore! You don't want me!"
"Of course I want you," he snapped, stepping closer. "I just... I need a fuckin' break sometimes! Always need me for something. I need to not feel like I'm suffocatin' every second of every goddamn day! All you fuckin' do is ask me what's wrong, what's wrong, like I'm some kind of fuckup—"
"Because you are! You're acting like a child, Aerion! You have a son who needs you! Who needs both of us! And all you care about is running away the second things get hard!"
He was right in front of you then, his chest heaving, his hands clenched into fists. He looked like he wanted to hit something. You thought he might actually hit you.
"I'm not the one runnin'," he said, but he'd lowered his voice by then. "You're the one talkin' about leavin'."
"Maybe we both need different things."
You both knew what that meant. You both knew this was it.
You took Maegor and left that night, drove to your grandmother's house, your house, and sat in the dark driveway for hours, your baby asleep in the backseat, wondering how you'd ended up here.
The next day, you called Aerion and told him you needed space. That you were staying at the house for a while. That you weren't taking Maegor away from him, but you couldn't live like this anymore.
He didn't argue or beg. He just said, "Alright," and hung up.
A week later, he showed up at the house with a car seat, Maegor's dragon, and a look on his face like he'd lost everything. He asked if he could take him for the day. You said yes because you didn't know what else to say.
That was how it started.
He never missed a visit after that. He never made excuses. He showed up every time he said he would, even though he was often late. Sometimes with a new toy, sometimes with fast food because he forgot to pack snacks. He was a better father than he ever was a partner. Maegor lit up every time he saw him, his little arms reaching out, his face breaking into the biggest smile.
But he never asked you to come back.
You told yourself it was better this way. You told yourself you deserved someone who didn't make you feel like you were too much. Who didn't disappear. Who didn't make you feel alone even when you were together.
It didn't stop you from missing him. From wishing things had been different. From wondering if there was ever a version of this where the two of you figured it out before it was too late.
Maegor grew up thinking his parents just lived in different houses. He didn't understand why his daddy couldn't sleep over, why you never kissed anymore, why sometimes you looked at each other like you'd both lost something important. He just knew that he loved you both, and that was enough for him.
But every time you handed Maegor over to Aerion, every time you watched him drive away with your son in the backseat, you couldn't help but wonder if you'd made a mistake. If you should've tried harder. If you should've waited a little longer for him to figure it out.
Yu: Special thanks to my little cousin for giving me the idea for this story. ♡ I love him so much. 😭
• English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if I make any mistakes. Don't hesitate to point them out!
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You had been trying to wean Yuji off his pacifier for a while now.
You had tried almost every method.
You had even tied his pacifiers to balloons and let them float away one by one.
At first, it seemed like a game to Yuji, but when he realized the truth, he threw a massive tantrum. You had explained everything to him, and he'd even said okay, but he was just a kid after all.
He loved all of his pacifiers. The green one, the blue one, the purple one... But the only one he had left was his favorite.
The red one.
You knew letting go of that one would be the hardest.
With his last pacifier still in his mouth, he told everyone he met that all his pacifiers were gone.
But Yuji was his father's son.
He was a proud little boy.
Whenever someone smiled and said, "You're a big boy now," he'd quickly pull it out of his mouth, hide it behind his back, and giggle.
He did the same thing whenever he saw kids younger than him.
At daycare, he slept without it because there were younger kids there.
After all, he was a big boy.
Big boys slept without pacifiers.
At home, though, things were different.
He refused to sleep without it, and whenever you tried to put him to bed without his pacifier, he'd throw a tantrum.
You read him bedtime stories, rocked him in your arms, hugged him close, stroked his hair, kissed his forehead...
Nothing worked.
Then the day finally came.
"I have to pee, Mommy!"
You noticed he had come with his pacifier.
"Take your pacifier out before you come in, baby."
You always told him this, but he never listened.
Once again, he shook his head.
He finished using the bathroom and was just getting up from the toilet when...
It happened.
He was about to tell you something...
"Mommy, look—"
The pacifier slipped from his mouth.
And fell into the toilet.
Plop.
The little boy's eyes went wide.
Yuji was a smart kid, and he knew a pacifier that fell into the toilet wasn't coming back.
After a few seconds of shock, he let out a scream.
"My paci! My paci! No!"
He was crying so loudly...
"Mommy!"
You tried to comfort him.
"Yuji... Baby—"
"My paci! No!" He desperately reached toward the toilet.
"I know you're very sad that your pacifier is gone, but we can't use it anymore. Should we say goodbye to it together?"
"No! I want my paci!"
Calming him down took everything you had.
You didn't even realize how many hours had passed.
In a way, this was a good opportunity. You had already been trying to wean him off his pacifier, and this time, he'd dropped it himself. Which meant he couldn't blame you.
Still, you knew your son.
Even if he'd calmed down for now, bedtime was going to be especially difficult.
The two of you were lying on the couch together, and he was watching cartoons while snuggled up in your arms.
The moment he heard the front door open, his attention immediately shifted, and he ran toward his father, who had just come home from work.
The second Sukuna stepped inside, Yuji launched into his story.
"Daddy! All my pacis are gone! My red paci fell into the toilet!"
He was explaining it so earnestly that you wanted to pinch his little cheeks.
To your little boy, it was the biggest problem in the world.
Sukuna looked at his son in surprise and went along with his excitement.
"No way. Even the red one? Guess there's no going back now, kid. You're a big boy now."
While Yuji continued to babble, Sukuna ruffled his hair and glanced at you. He immediately understood how exhausted you were just by looking at your face. It wasn't hard to guess what had happened... He knew how attached his son was to that pacifier.
"Looks like you've had a rough day." He smirked.
"Don't tease me! I lost track of time!"
"So, what happened?"
"He came to the bathroom with his pacifier like always, and this time, he dropped it."
"Did he cry a lot?"
"You have no idea. It was so hard to calm him down..."
"This brat is going to give us a lot of trouble tonight."
"That's for sure."
That night, and every bedtime that followed over the next several days, were much harder than either of you had expected. Screaming, kicking, crying…
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