𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞 ┅ 𝖵𝖺𝗅𝖺𝗋𝗋 𝖳𝖺𝗋𝗀𝖺𝗋𝗒𝖾𝗇 & 𝖳𝗒𝗋𝗈𝗌𝗁𝗂! 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋
𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘝𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘳 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘺𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳. 𝘍𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵.
﹙𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹚
NOTE: The Anthony Bridgerton and Kate Sharma dynamic has taken its hold on me and I’m afraid it’s never going to let go 😟 I wrote this in like a daze, theirs definitely parts that make no sense lol
The harbor of King’s Landing had reeked completely of salt and tar and heat.
You hated it at once.
Ships strained against their anchors as the waves slapped lazily against their painted hulls. Dockhands called back and forth across the pier in their crude Westerosi accents, their words harsh and alien.
Tyrosh had been a place of color: bright walls, perfumed markets, musicians playing in the streets.
King’s Landing was heavier in comparison.
Next to you, your older sister adjusted the silver clasp on her cloak, her chin held high with pride.
“Remember,” Keira whispered without looking at you, “we are guests of the royal court now. Do try not to look as if you'd rather leap back onto the ship.”
“I might,” you muttered.
Keira gave you a quick look.
“You will behave sister.”
You let out a sigh.
“Yes, sister.”
Behind you, your father was talking to the officials waiting at the docks. They wore cloaks with the three heads of the dragon of House Targaryen emblazoned on their fabric.
All of this, weeks at sea, the stifling formality—had been leading up to something incredibly important.
Keira’s betrothal to the young heir, prince Valarr Targaryen.
You looked over at the Red Keep rising above the city. This prince.
You knew little about him. Only whispers from merchants and envoys, dark chestnut hair, inherited from his dornish blood. The Targaryen shone through the silver streak in his hair, one eye of sapphire blue and the other of brown, he was the eldest son of the king’s heir.
A future king he’d be, Keira was clearly thrilled with the arrangement.
You were curious is all.
—
The Red Keep was far grander up close.
Polished marble floors sparkled like water under candlelight, and servants moved silently through the halls like ghosts.
You walked slightly behind your sister as servants escorted you through the castle. From behind you could tell Keira’s posture was flawless.
Your curiosity had gotten the better of you.
Dragons and old wars adorned the walls as tapestries. One showed a silver-haired warrior riding a dragon through a burning sky.
Westeros had a great fondness for legends.
At the doors to the receiving hall, the servants halted. “Prince Valarr awaits.”
Your sister breathed sharply, and her face lit with excitement.
You attempted not to grin.
Inside, the room was warm with firelight. And there he stood.
Prince Valarr Targaryen.
You recognized him at once.
Tall and broad-shouldered with his rumoured hair that fell loose around his collar, catching the flickering torchlight.
But it was his face that caught you. It carried a emotions as if he had spent his entire life perfecting every single one.
His violet eyes scanned the room to Keira.
Then, briefly, you.
It was only a moment. But something in the look had seemed searching.
Your father stepped forward to greet him. "My prince. It is an honor."
Valarr nodded his head in polite response. "The honor is mine."
His voice was deeper than you expected. His eyes returned to Keira. "My lady Keira."
Your sister curtsied beautifully, she bowed but even then you could see the slight reddening of her cheek. "My prince."
You stepped back a pace or so, comfortable with being unseen.
The prince and your sister had begun talking politely, about their journey, about Tyrosh, about court.
You listened with half an ear.
Until. “You must be her sister.”
You looked up. Valarr's eyes were fixed on you now.
Your heart skipped an odd, unexpected beat.
You curtsied hastily. “I am.”
“And your name?” You told him.
There was something in his eyes, something that flickered and disappeared at once.
“Welcome to King's Landing.”
You smiled graciously. “Thank you, my prince.”
He nodded his head and turned back to Keira at once.
And yet you had the feeling he had been examining you too close to be casual formalities.
—
That evening, there was a grand welcoming feast. Music filled the great hall, and courtiers glittered in their silks and jewels.
You sat beside your sister at the high table. And your sister, Keira, looked as radiant as the brightest star in the night sky.
Prince Valarr sat across from your sister. He talked to her often, politely attentive one he was.
It looked as though it were all perfect.
You should have felt relieved. But you felt a sense of observation.
Of him.
There was something restrained in him. Some kind of tension beneath his polished demeanor. Like a bowstring drawn.
When courtiers laughed boisterously around him, he smiled faintly, rarely joined in.
But when your sister spoke, he listened.
Duty it must.
It was a word you knew well.
You were halfway through your goblet of wine when suddenly, his gaze rose.
He kept it a second longer than he needed to. Then shifted his gaze.
And your stomach flipped annoyingly.
Ridiculous. You barely knew the man.
And he was to marry your sister.
—
The following morning, you managed to escape the castle. The gardens of the Red Keep were located on the cliff overlooking Blackwater Bay.
At least the air smelled clean here.
You strolled through the roses and the well-trimmed hedges. Until the sound of hoofbeats echoed through the garden.
You turned your head.
Prince Valarr rode into the garden on a black horse. He slowed his pace when he saw you.
Of course. Of course it would be him.
You curtsied politely.“My prince.”
Prince Valarr dismounted his horse. “I did not expect to find anyone here this early.”
“I could say the same.”
He smiled faintly. “Escaping the court?”
You hesitated. “Something like that.”
Prince Valarr looked at you with a sympathetic expression.“It is understandable.”
For a moment, you and the prince did not say anything.
The sea wind blew through the prince’s pale hair. He looked tired, not physically, but maybe emotionally.
“Does King’s Landing disappoint you?”
You blinked. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to my lady.”
You sighed. “It is just very different from Tyrosh.”
“How so?”
“It lacks the color.”
He laughed softly. “You are not wrong.”
Silence.
Then. “Riding?”
“Yes.”
His eyebrows went up. “Most ladies are frightened of mounts, much less ride them.”
“Most ladies are boring.”
This made him laugh.
You became aware that you were enjoying the conversation far too well. This was the man your sister was to marry.
You stood up a little straighter. “My sister has spoken very highly of you.”
His face changed immediately. Back to normal.
“I am glad.”
There was a pause. “You will make her happy,” you said politely.
His face changed again. This time to something you couldn’t quite tell.
“I will do my duty.”
His words were very practiced and he didn't seem to be happy.
You frowned.
But before you could say anything, a servant was approaching from the path. “My prince. The council awaits him.”
Valarr nodded. “Thank you.”
He turned back to you. “Enjoy the gardens my lady.”
“And you, your council meetings.”
He smiled. Then he mounted his horse and rode off.
You stood there and watched him go, your bosom uncomfortably tight within the cages of your bodice.
—
Over the course of the following weeks, you saw him often.
Always with Keira.
Always proper.
Always distant.
But still, there were moments between you two. A look across the hall, a talk during a hunt, asking your opinion instead of your sister’s, a dance with his hand brushing against yours for a fraction of a second longer than necessary.
Nothing improper. Nothing anyone else would notice.
But enough to make your heart behave foolishly. You tried to tell yourself it didn’t mean anything.
It had to mean nothing, he was promised to your dear Keira.
—
Things changed, and it happened during a hunt.
Your party rode deep into the kingswood, hawks circling above.
You loved riding, loved the freedom of it all.
At one point the group had spread out in pursuit of a deer. Your horse leapt over a log—
And landed badly.
You hadn't even time to take breath before being flung to the dirt. Pain flashed through your ankle.
“Seven hells,” you hissed, hands instantly holding onto your leg.
Hooves pounded the earth nearby. And the next thing you knew, Valarr appeared out of the trees.
He dismounted at once. “Are you hurt?”
“I will live."
He crouched down beside you to examine your ankle. His hands were warm and steady.
“You should not try to stand yet.”
“I wasn't exactly planning to my prince.”
Valarr's brow furrowed. “You always answer like that?”
“Only when princes gives me orders.”
Valarr's lips curled up in a ghost of a smile.
But his face sobered quickly. “I will carry you back.”
“That is unnecessary.”
“It is not.”
Before you could say anything else, he picked you up, quite effortlessly.
You caught your breath. You were suddenly very aware of how close you were, Valarr’s heartbeat under your hand.
The leather and pine scent of his armor.
Valarr's eyes flickered down to meet yours. For a moment something happened.
Something dangerous. And then he looked away.
Neither of your two said anything during the ride back. But something had changed.
—
The court of King’s Landing had a way of making everything feel like a performance. Every smile meant something, every conversation was measured, it was disgusting.
You learned that quickly in the weeks following the hunt. Especially when those looks came from Valarr himself.
At first, you told yourself you imagined it. The slight hesitation when he greeted you in the mornings.
The way his eyes flickered toward you when someone else spoke.
The way his voice changed, albeit barely, when he addressed you rather than your sister.
It had to mean nothing.
Because your sister, Keira, was painfully glowing with anticipation.
Her betrothal to the prince would be announced soon. The court buzzed with whispers already. A Tyroshi alliance was valuable, and a prince needed a wife worthy of the throne he might one day inherit.
Keira fit the role perfectly. She was beautiful, clever, and poised. Everything a princess should be.
You were the sister who came with her.
And that was how things were meant to remain. Oh how you wished that was how they remained.
—
The first real problem arose during a riding lesson.
Keira had expressed interest in learning the Westerosi style of hunting before the wedding, and naturally the prince offered to guide her.
You had no intention of joining them.
Until Keira insisted.
“You must come sister,” she said that morning as servants braided her hair. “You ride far better than I do. If I embarrass myself before my future husband, at least you can distract him.”
“That seems like a terrible plan Kiera.”
“Please.”
You sighed. “You are relentless.”
“Yes it is one of my many charms.” Kiera laughed, hooking her arm with yours.
—
The training yard smelled of hay and leather when you arrived. Several horses waited in the courtyard.
Valarr stood beside them, speaking with a stablehand. When he noticed you approaching beside Keira, his posture stiffened slightly.
He bowed politely. “My lady Keira.”
Then his gaze shifted. “And my lady.”
You dipped your head. “My prince.”
Something unreadable flickered across his expression before he turned back to your sister. “I chose a gentle mare for you, she is well accustomed to riders, she will be amiable to most things.”
Keira beamed. “How thoughtful my prince.”
—
The lesson began well enough.
Valarr explained the hunting techniques used by Westerosi nobles, how to track deer through the kingswood, how to follow the movement of birds overhead, how to guide a horse at full gallop.
Keira listened attentively, but riding had never been her strength.
Within half an hour she looked exhausted.
Meanwhile, you had already circled the yard twice out of sheer restlessness.
“You ride as if the horse were your own,” he said, as you passed him.
“It is.”
He looked up. “That is not the same as owning it.”
“Maybe not in Westeros.” Your horse drew closer.
For a moment, you and the prince rode side by side. Keira had fallen back a bit.
“You have a good seat,” the prince said.
“I learned to ride along the cliffs of Tyrosh.”
“I would like to see that one day.”
The words came out easily, too easily.
The realization had both of you taken aback.
Valarr cleared his throat. “I mean-”
“I know what you mean.” Your words were softer.
“Maybe one day you will.” He clenched his jaw.
For a moment, you and the prince were silent. Then Keira shouted across the yard.
“Valarr! How do I keep the horse from turning like this?”
He turned away, he had a duty to uphold.
You suddenly felt sad, you didn’t know why, you didn’t know why you were sad, you didn’t know why you were disappointed.
But you were.
You were disappointed.
—
Court life resumed its rhythm, all the feasts, council meetings, music in the evenings.
And always the subtle tension whenever you and Valarr found yourselves in the same room.
You tried to avoid him when possible.
But apparently the castle wasn’t large enough for that.
And sometimes… Sometimes he seemed to be avoiding you too.
Until the night of the moonlight ball.
—
The great hall of the Red Keep glittered with candles. Nobles from across the realm had gathered for the celebration. Musicians played lively songs while couples filled the dance floor.
You stood near the edge of the hall with a goblet of wine, watching the crowd.
Keira was dancing with Valarr, they made a striking pair.
Targaryen blood beside Tyroshi gold.
They moved gracefully together, her laughter bright and easy. Anyone watching would think they were perfectly suited.
Your chest tightened strangely.
“Jealous?”
You nearly spilled your wine.
Turning quickly, you found Valarr’s cousin leaning beside the pillar. Prince Daeron Targaryen smirked knowingly.
“Excuse me?”
“You’ve been staring at them for five minutes.”
“I have not.”
“Four minutes, then.”
You scowled. “I was simply observing my sister.”
“Of course.” His grin widened.
Daeron was far too perceptive for your liking. You’d heard he was nothing but a pathetic drunk. Lugging about the walls of the keep and occasionally the streets of silk.
Before you could respond, the music ended. Applause filled the hall.
Keira curtsied gracefully to Valarr. Then she turned toward you.
“Sister! Come dance.”
You froze.
“Oh, no-”
But she was already pulling you toward the floor. Valarr looked surprised.
The musicians began a new song. And suddenly you found yourself standing across from him.
Your heart pounded. “This is incredibly unnecessary,” you muttered.
“Agreed,” he replied quietly.
Neither of you moved for a moment.
Then the dance began.
His hand took yours, warm.
The choreography forced you close… then apart… then close again. Each step heightened the awareness between you.
“You should be dancing with my sister,” you whispered.
“I was.”
“Then why are you here?”
His jaw tightened.
“You know why.”
Your breath caught.
“No,” you said softly. “I don’t.”
He leaned slightly closer as the dance turned. His voice dropped. “Yes, you do.”
The words sent a shiver down your spine. The music ended far too soon.
You pulled your hand away quickly. “This must stop.”
His eyes flashed. “Nothing has begun my lady.”
“Exactly.”
You turned and walked away before your resolve could falter.
—
Later that night you escaped to the castle gardens again. The moon hung low over the bay, casting silver light across the paths.
Your mind refused to settle, the dance replayed over and over.
His voice.
His touch.
His confession that wasn’t quite a confession.
Footsteps sounded behind you, you knew who it was before turning.
Valarr stopped a few paces away.
“You should not follow me, my prince.”
“You left rather abruptly.”
“I thought that was the point.”
Silence settled between you, the ocean wind stirred the trees.
“You were right earlier,” he said quietly.
You frowned. “About what?”
“This must stop.”
Your chest tightened. “Then stop it.”
“I am trying.”
You laughed softly. “That’s not very convincing.”
His expression darkened. “You think this is amusing?”
“No.” Your voice softened. “I think it’s impossible.”
The words hung between you. Valarr stepped closer.
Too close.
“You are my future wife’s sister,” he said, each word deliberate.
“Yes.”
“I will marry her.”
“I know.”
“Then why,” he asked quietly, “do you look at me like that?”
Your heart hammered painfully. “How do I look at you?”
“Like you wish things were different.”
Your breath caught. “You’re imagining things, you must be tired from the festivities.”
His hand clenched slightly at his side. “I wish I were.”
For a moment the distance between you felt electric. One step closer and everything would change.
You forced yourself to step back. “We should go inside.”
“Yes.”
Neither of you moved. Then finally he turned away first, his duty winning once again.
But not without cost.
—
Later that night, lying awake in your chamber, you stared at the ceiling, your thoughts spun endlessly.
Because deep down you knew the truth.
This wasn’t harmless, nor was it fleeting. This was something far more dangerous.
And if you weren’t careful, you might both fall into a fire neither of you could escape.
—
The trouble with forbidden feelings was not that they appeared suddenly.
It was that they grew quietly.
Until one day you realized they had already taken root in places they had no right to exist.
You again tried to avoid Valarr Targaryen after the moonlight ball. Truly, you did.
For several days you remained mostly in your chambers or accompanied your sister during visits with the ladies of King’s Landing. You laughed politely when expected, spoke when spoken to, and behaved exactly as a proper noble daughter should.
But the Red Keep was a maze of stone corridors and chance encounters.
And the gods seemed intent on testing your restraint.
The first time you saw him again was at breakfast in the great hall.
You arrived late, hoping to slip quietly into a seat beside your sister. Instead, the moment you stepped through the doors, his gaze lifted.
Straight to you.
Your stomach tightened.
He looked tired.
Dark shadows rested beneath his eyes, and his expression was more guarded than usual.
Keira noticed nothing. She smiled brightly as you sat beside her. “You missed the morning council discussion,” she said cheerfully.
“I cannot imagine the tragedy.”
“It was dreadfully dull,” she admitted. “But Valarr says the hunting party tomorrow will be more entertaining.”
You froze.
“Hunting party?”
“Yes. Half the court is going.”
Your sister leaned closer.
“And you must come.”
You opened your mouth to protest.
But across the table Valarr was watching you again.
So intensely that your heart betrayed you with a single, traitorous beat.
—
The kingswood stretched endlessly beneath the autumn sky. Horses thundered along forest paths as nobles scattered across the hills, hawks soaring overhead.
You tried to focus on the hunt. Tried to ignore the fact that Valarr rode somewhere behind you.
Tried to ignore the way your awareness sharpened every time you heard his horse nearby.
Keira rode slightly ahead with a group of ladies.
Which left you, unfortunately, beside Lord Martyn Rowan.
He had been speaking for the better part of twenty minutes.
“And of course the orchards of Goldengrove produce the finest apples in the Reach,” he continued proudly.
“I will remember that,” you said politely.
“My lady you must visit someday.”
“That seems unlikely.”
“Nonsense! My mother would adore you.”
You nodded vaguely, he was kind enough, but painfully enthusiastic.
Your horse slowed near a clearing. Hoofbeats approached from behind. You didn’t need to turn to know who it was.
Valarr.
His horse moved beside yours. “My lady.”
“Your grace.”
Lord Rowan looked delighted.
“Prince Valarr! We were just discussing the orchards of Goldengrove.”
Valarr’s gaze flickered briefly to you. “Were you?”
“Yes,” Rowan continued eagerly. “I was inviting her to visit.”
Your breath caught. Valarr’s expression hardened almost imperceptibly. “How generous.” His tone was perfectly polite. But you heard the steel beneath it.
Rowan, oblivious, continued happily. “Perhaps once the prince’s wedding celebrations conclude-”
Valarr cut him off. “The lady may have other obligations.”
You glanced sharply at him.
Rowan blinked.
“Of course, of course. I merely thought-”
“The hunt continues west,” Valarr said calmly. “A stag was sighted there.”
The dismissal was subtle but painfully clear.
Rowan hesitated before bowing his head slightly. “Then I shall ride ahead.”
He spurred his horse forward. Leaving you alone with the prince.
Silence settled between you.
“You are being rude. It’s unbecoming of a prince,” you said eventually.
Valarr kept his gaze forward. “I was not.”
“He was being friendly.”
“He was clearly courting you.”
Your heart skipped. “That is none of your concern.”
Finally, he looked at you, and there it was, the crack in his composure.
“I disagree.”
“Why?”
The question slipped out before you could stop it.
His jaw tightened. “You know why.”
“No,” you said softly. “I don’t.”
For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Wind rustled through the trees above.
Then a distant rumble of thunder echoed across the forest.
You glanced toward the darkening sky. “That storm came quickly.”
Valarr followed your gaze. “We should return to the others.”
But the woods had grown strangely quiet. Another thunderclap rolled across the hills.
Rain began falling moments later, pouring. Your horse shifted nervously beneath you.
“The trail is flooded,” you said, looking back the way you came.
Valarr scanned the trees. “There’s an old hunting cabin nearby.”
“How do you know that?”
“I hunted here as a boy.”
Lightning split the sky.
Your horse reared slightly.
“Fine,” you muttered. “Lead the way.”
—
The cabin was small but sturdy. Rain battered the roof as you both hurried inside.
You were soaked within seconds. Water dripped from your cloak onto the wooden floor.
Valarr shut the door behind you, and the storm roared outside.
Although inside the silence was deafening. You stood near the window, arms wrapped around yourself.
“This is unfortunate.”
“Yes.” His voice sounded strained.
You glanced back.
He stood near the door, clearly trying to maintain distance.
As though the few steps between you were somehow dangerous.
“You should remove the cloak,” he said stiffly. “You’ll freeze.”
“I am not so fragile a cloak will harm me.”
“That was not my implication.”
You sighed and removed it anyway. Your dress clung damply to your skin.
Valarr looked away immediately. Which somehow made things worse.
“You can look you know,” you said dryly. “I will not be offended.”
“I would rather not.” His voice sounded tight.
The storm intensified outside, the lightning flashed again.
Your nerves felt stretched thin. “You dislike me very much today,” you observed quietly.
He laughed once, a humorless sound.
“You think that is what this is?”
“I think you’ve been short with me since the hunt began.”
“And you have been encouraging Lord Rowan.”
You stared at him. “I was being polite.”
“You were smiling, you never do that.”
“Gods forbid.”
His composure snapped slightly. “You know what you were doing.”
“And what exactly was that?”
“Making me-”
He stopped abruptly.
Your pulse quickened. “Making you what?” You were whispering now.
The storm roared louder.
Valarr ran a hand through his damp hair, pacing once across the small room.
“I should not have followed you here.”
“You didn’t.”
“I mean this situation.”
His gaze met yours again, if his gaze could burn you’d be lit by now.
“You make it very difficult to remember my duty.”
Your breath caught. “You’re marrying my sister. Do not forget.”
“I am painfully aware.”
“Then perhaps you should stop looking at me like that.”
His voice dropped dangerously low. “And how exactly do I look at you?”
You hesitated, because saying it aloud would make it real.
But he stepped closer.
One step.
Then another.
Until the distance between you vanished.
Your heartbeat thundered.
“You look at me,” you whispered, “as though you wish I were her.”
His expression changed instantly. “No.”
The word came out rough. “Never that.”
“Then what?”
His hand clenched at his side. “Do not ask questions you already know the answer to.”
“But I don’t.”
Lightning illuminated the room.
For a split second, you saw exactly how close you were standing.
Close enough to feel the warmth of him.
Close enough to ruin everything.
Valarr’s voice softened. “Every moment I spend near you is a mistake.”
Your throat tightened. “Then leave.”
“I cannot.”
“Why?”
His eyes closed briefly. As though the truth physically hurt.
“Because when you look at me,” he said quietly, “I forget who I’m supposed to be.”
The words hung between you.
You should have stepped back.
You should have ended it there.
Instead you whispered,
“Valarr…” His name on your lips broke something inside him.
He stepped forward. Just enough that your breaths mingled.
For one dangerous moment you both leaned closer. The air between you felt electric. All it would take was one more second.
One more inch.
One kiss, and everything would burn.
Then thunder cracked violently overhead. The spell shattered.
Valarr stepped back abruptly. His expression was raw with restraint. “This cannot happen.”
You nodded slowly. “I know.”
Neither of you moved for a long time, the storm eventually softened, rain faded to a quiet patter.
—
The night before the betrothal ceremony felt wrong.
The halls of the Red Keep were alive with celebration. Nobles toasted the coming union between Valarr Targaryen and your sister, Keira of Tyrosh.
Musicians played loudly and wine flowed freely.
You spent the entire evening trying not to look at the prince. Trying not to think about how tomorrow everything would be decided.
You had avoided him carefully since your conversation in the storm.
But tonight, it was impossible.
Because Valarr was drinking. He rarely drank.
Yet tonight goblet after goblet disappeared from his hand.
The princes of the realm laughed loudly beside him, clapping his shoulders, celebrating his coming marriage.
But there was something wrong in the way he smiled.
You left the feast early.
You could not watch any longer.
—
The Red Keep quieted as the night deepened. Servants extinguished candles. Courtiers retired to their chambers.
You moved through the dim corridors in a borrowed shawl, unable to sleep.
The castle had many hidden passages, old stone walkways built generations ago for servants and spies.
You had discovered several in your wandering.
Tonight, you walked them simply to escape your thoughts.
Until you heard your name.
Soft, and hoarse. Barely more than a whisper.
You froze.
The voice came again.
Your name.
You followed the sound through the narrow passage until it ended at a hidden door.
Beyond it, Prince Valarr’s chambers.
Your heart pounded as you slipped inside. The room smelled faintly of wine and smoke.
Valarr sat half-collapsed on the edge of his bed, his silver hair loose, his shirt half-open at the collar.
A goblet lay tipped on the floor beside him. He looked up slowly when the door opened.
His violet eyes were unfocused. “…You came.”
Your breath caught.
“My prince-”
“Don’t,” he murmured. “Not tonight.”
He tried to stand.
Failed.
You rushed forward instinctively. “Careful.”
He leaned heavily against you, unsteady. “You shouldn’t have drunk so much.”
“Perhaps,” he said softly. “But it was the only way I could survive this night.”
Your chest tightened painfully. You guided him back onto the bed.
He watched you with a strange, dazed intensity. “I shouldn’t be here,” you whispered.
“I called for you.”
“You called my name in a daze.”
“Because you’re always there.”
Your throat burned.
Valarr reached for your hand clumsily, gripping it like a lifeline. “Stay.”
“I cannot.”
“Stay.” His voice broke slightly. “We could marry the Valyrian way.”
Your breath caught. “You are drunk.”
“I’m honest.” His grip tightened weakly.
“In old Valyria, a man married the woman he loved.” He pulled your hand closer to his chest.
“We could leave tomorrow. Before the ceremony. My dragon would take us anywhere.”
You brushed his hair gently from his face. “You do not have a dragon.”
“Then I’d steal one.”
Despite everything, a soft laugh escaped you. “You are impossible.”
“And you love me.”
The words fell between you quietly. He looked so vulnerable. So unlike the composed prince the court knew.
His voice softened again. “Stay.”
“Again, I cannot.”
“Please.” He sounded almost like a little boy now.
You leaned down gently. Pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. “Sleep, Valarr.”
His fingers tightened briefly around yours. Then slowly relaxed as sleep finally claimed him.
You stayed until his breathing steadied.
Then slipped silently back into the passages.
Your heart breaking with every step.
—
Morning came far too soon. You expected to avoid him again. But fate had other plans.
The hallway outside the library was empty when you turned the corner, and froze.
Valarr stood there.
Waiting.
He looked terrible, his skin pale, his hair loosely tied back. But his eyes, his eyes were clear.
“Good morning,” he said quietly.
You tried to steady your voice. “My prince.”
“Don’t.” The word was sharp. “Not today.”
Before you could react. He dropped to his knees.
Your breath left your lungs entirely.In his hand, a ring.
Heavy gold bearing the dragon sigil of House Targaryen.
“My family’s ring,” he said hoarsely.
“Valarr-”
“I am done pretending.”His voice shook with raw emotion. “I cannot marry your sister.”
“Please don't do this”
“I love you.”
The words hit you like a blow. He clenched the ring tightly, tight enough to make the tip of his fingers turn red.
“I will speak to my father. To my grandsire. To the entire court if I must.” His voice grew desperate.
“You are still a noblewoman of Tyrosh. This match would still strengthen the alliance. I will convince them.”
Tears burned your eyes.
“Valarr-”
“I will do anything,” he whispered.
His hand clutched the fabric of your dress.
“Just say yes.”
Your heart shattered.
Because you loved him.
Gods, you loved him.
But. “Keira.”
His expression faltered.
“She loves you.”
He shook his head. “She believes she does.”
“And if she does?” you asked softly.
“If she wakes tomorrow and realizes the man she was meant to marry chose her sister instead?”
Your voice broke. “I cannot do that to her.”
Valarr closed his eyes, he was now biting his lip, brows furrowed, panic flickering across his face.
“I know.”
Silence stretched painfully.
Then slowly, he nodded.
“I understand.”
He stood slowly.
But before stepping away, he reached for his sword.
The blade slid free with a quiet ring.
Your eyes widened. “What are you doing?”
Valarr raised the sword solemnly. “I swear this on my honor.”
His violet eyes burned with fierce determination. “If your sister gives us her blessing to wed…”
He lowered the blade toward the floor. “…you must marry me.”
Your heart pounded. “Valarr-”
“Swear it.”His voice was steady now.
You hesitated.
Then whispered, “I swear.”
He sheathed the sword slowly. The decision hung heavy in the air.
Neither of you spoke again for the rest of the day.
—
That night you slept uneasily. Until soft footsteps woke you. You sat up as the door creaked open.
Keira stood there.
Wrapped in a light shawl over her sleepwear.
Your heart dropped. “Sister?”
She stepped inside quietly, closing the door behind her.
“Valarr told me everything.”
Your stomach twisted painfully. “I never meant-”
She held up a hand gently. “I know.”
Silence lingered between you. You expected anger, betrayal even, tears, anything.
Instead, she smiled softly.
“As much as I should hate you…I cannot.”
Your eyes filled with tears.
“We are sisters,” she said simply. “And I know you.”
She moved to sit on the edge of your bed. “I did fall for him,” she admitted.
Your heart twisted. “But watching you both…I realized something.”
She laughed quietly.
“It was never really my story.”
You stared at her.
“Besides…”
A playful spark returned to her eyes.
“That lord from the hunt? The one who kept inviting you to visit his orchards?”
“Lord Rowan?”
“Yes.”
She smiled shyly. “He’s actually quite charming.”
You blinked in disbelief.
“He laughs at my jokes.”
“Well that’s rare.”
She nudged you.
“And he is very handsome.”
Your chest loosened with relief.
“And kind.”
She leaned against you gently. “I think he might make me happy.”
Tears slipped down your cheeks. Keira wiped them away softly.
“May I sleep here tonight?”
You laughed weakly. “Like when we were girls?”
“Exactly like that.” She curled beside you beneath the blankets.
Your arms wrapped around each other instinctively.
Just like the nights when you were children dreaming of castles and husbands.
Both of you cried quietly, but they were soft tears.
Healing ones.
And eventually you fell asleep in each other’s embrace.
—
The following days were chaos.
Plans changed.
Messengers rode between noble houses. The court buzzed with scandal and excitement.
But somehow everything fell into place. And when you passed Valarr in the halls, his eyes burned with quiet happiness.
You rarely had time alone, except at night.
Through the hidden passage between your chambers.
There, in the quiet darkness of the castle walls, you found each other again.
Whispered laughter, and stolen kisses.
And the promise of a future neither of you had dared hope for, a future born from fire.
