hello! my name is croía (cree-uh), and i use she/her pronouns. i'm currently 21 years old! i plan on posting here whenever i have the time and energy, so i don't have an upload schedule. requests are always open unless stated otherwise.
note: i am a human being with a lot of things going on in my life outside of writing. please don't pressure me into writing things quicker! it won't help and it just demotivates me.
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— rules
no minors. this blog is strictly 18+.
x readers only for now! i may post some oc stuff of mine in the future, though.
i usually prefer writing fem and gender neutral readers, as that's closer to how i identify.
limit headcanon requests to five characters or less.
please specify whether you want a drabble, oneshot, or headcanons! i always want to do exactly what you want so it'd be easier that way.
i will write smut, but only if you (as the requester) have not sent it anonymously and have your age on your profile.
i will not write yandere, as it makes me uncomfortable.
i will NOT write incest. any requests involving it will be denied.
i know there's some real stigma around wattpad, but i wanted to post on here about my fic regardless.
oc x canon isn't particularly popular either, but i've been writing this fic for two and a half years now and counting. i'm proud of it, and i wanted to share it.
i plan on writing some asoiaf fics on there as well (oc x canon, my x readers will stay on tumblr).
anyway, here's the link to my account and here's the link to my fic. it's a glenn rhee fic from the walking dead :) another fandom that isn't super popular lately, but i love it.
if anyone's still on wattpad, feel free to give me a follow over there! i plan on posting some asoiaf fics as well whenever i get the motivation (probably valarr first)! if anyone's interested in that. :)
i'm so sorry for disappearing </3 i've been ridiculously busy lately and taking care of my family takes priority over anything else right now. i hope to be back at some point properly, but for now i'm on a bit of a hiatus. i'm sorry everyone!
summary: in the aftermath of the tournament, you reunite with your father and share a tender goodbye with the prince of dragonstone.
tags: sfw, semi-canon compliant (valarr is not married), no use of y/n, some angst, some fluff, optimistic ending
author's note: i think this is probably a good stopping point for this series, so thank you everyone for reading! i had a lot of fun writing this, even though i went through a lot of ups and downs behind the scenes, it was always nice to be able to log on and see all of your sweet comments. i couldn't have done it without all of your kind words and encouragements, so thank you all so much. i hope you enjoy!
previous
You stood vigil at Valarr's side.
In front of you, the lit pyre of Prince Baelor Breakspear. He wore a golden helm with an open visor, so you could see his face through the flames. He wore a black velvet tunic with the Targaryen three headed dragon, threaded in scarlet across his chest. Around his throat, a heavy golden chain. He was not dressed as a warrior. He looked like a peacemaker. Like a kind man, even in his end.
You had never said a word to the prince. You'd seen him from a distance a few times while watching the jousting, though you never saw him arrive yourself at the trial. Your heart felt heavy, though you could not bring yourself to look away from him. You pressed your palm flat against Valarr's back, a silent act of comfort— one you knew that he could feel— as he watched his father burn.
The funeral lasted until Baelor's body was nothing but ash.
Valarr watched as the silent sisters collected his ashes, and carefully moved them into a beautifully engraved urn befitting of a Prince of House Targaryen. You hastily pressed your arm against his own, and only then did he turn to look at you. His eyes were red, though he did not cry through the service.
You could not find any more words to say to him. You had expressed your condolences so many times at that point that you were sure he had grown to be sick of it. He'd heard it from so many people, and the words had most likely grown meaningless.
Valarr insisted you leave him after the funeral was over. He wanted to stay— to watch over his father as he'd watched over him— until the urn was in his hands. You were hesitant to leave, and only did so once he'd assured you that he would be okay. You doubted his words, but you knew it would be good for him to spend some time alone. To think.
Ashford Meadow was dreary. Quiet, and uninviting. It seemed as though all of the life had been sucked completely from the trees and the grass. Everything that was once green was a new, drab gray. You maneuvered your way through the gradually disappearing tents and pavilions through a path you'd walked so many times before. Where people were once cheerful, you saw no smiles. The death of the prince weighed heavy on the realm, and many were taking to blame Ser Duncan. You supposed everyone needed someone to blame, even if you'd decided to place it on Aerion. Without him.. perhaps none of it would've happened.
Your tent had even lost it's color.
As you stepped inside, a few servants brushed by you. Their expressions matched the ones of the smallfolk outside. You had begun to count your blessings. It was nothing short of a miracle that your father had lived through the trial. You didn't know the extent of his injuries, but they certainly couldn't have been too bad if he was already resting in his own tent rather than the castle of House Ashford.
You still wore the same dress you'd seen him in last. It was hard to believe that everything had taken place in only one day, but when you saw your father in his bed, you believed it. His face was red and swollen, his eye still bloodied from what you could only assume was a lance from the first charge. His uncovered arms were littered in scratches— some deeper than others— and small patches of dirt that had yet to be washed away. Still, he wore a smile on his face when he saw you.
He pushed himself up in his bed, a hiss escaping from his lips as he did so. "Daughter—"
"Father." You greeted warmly, increasing your pace to meet him before he could manage to get up. "I am.. so relieved." You breathed out, hesitantly taking his outstretched hand into your own. Relieved couldn't even begin to cut it. You were far more than just relieved.
"As am I." He replied, his voice sounding a bit hoarse. He could certainly look much worse, you thought. He had gotten lucky. Baelor Targaryen was only one of three men who had died in the tourney, and all of them had decided to fight for Ser Duncan. One of the Kingsguard had been injured and had to be carried off of the field at the end of the trial, though you had heard he had lived. Word spread quickly, even amongst the heartbroken.
You pressed your lips together, and swallowed the lump in your throat.
"Did you doubt me?" Your father asked.
"What?"
"Did you?"
You chuckled, turning your gaze to the floor. "Of course not." You told him, managing a small smile. Even in the face of all of his pain, he had still managed to cheer you up so easily.
"I told you that it would be all right." He murmured, his voice taking on a somewhat playful tone. You couldn't help but to roll your eyes. Even if it had turned out so for him, you couldn't help but to think of Valarr and the grief that he faced. You chewed at the inside of your lip.
"I am glad." You whispered, lightly squeezing his hand.
"I've.. still got it, even in my old age." He laughed weakly, falling back into the bed. "The maester said I would need.. time to recover, but my injuries would heal."
"Can you travel?"
"I'll have to. I don't want to stay in this shit hole any longer than I have to." He retorted, a groan escaping him as he stretched out his legs. "I don't know about a horse, but I can climb into a boat."
You shook your head, though your smile did widen at his playfulness. You couldn't blame him for wishing to leave. The tragedy at Ashford Meadow left few fond memories.. but you had met Valarr here, and that was a good thing, wasn't it? Kind, wonderful, beautiful Valarr. Valarr who had wished to marry you, of all the ladies in the Seven Kingdoms.
"How's the boy?" Your father's voice pulled you from your thoughts. "The princeling."
You swore he could read your mind.
"He.." you blinked, taking in a breath, "he mourns."
He nodded, chewing at the inside of his cheek. "And what of you?"
"What about me?"
"You and him." He replied as if it were the simplest, most obvious thing in the world.
"I.. offered my condolences."
"You were at his side at his father's funeral, daughter."
Word traveled fast.
"I.. I was, yes. But it felt like the right thing to do." You argued. You quickly remembered just how often he'd managed to get on your nerves. Even now, when he was half-dead, he'd somehow achieved it. You tried to remind yourself that it was all because he cared.
"Kind of you."
"I tried."
"He's fond of you." He added after a pause. "Has he asked you for your hand?"
"Oh, Gods." You sighed, pressing your thumb and forefinger against your head as you looked down. You did not wish to have a talk with him about any of that, especially not right now.
"What? Did he?"
"No, father. He didn't." You told him. "He.. did nothing of the sort." You continued. You couldn't tell him about his wish to marry you. How he'd told you that he thought you were the one. That he wanted you to be the one. How would he react to that?
He hummed. "That's too bad."
"What?"
"He likes you. I thought he would have." He shrugged his shoulders.
"I am sure it is not his first priority. His father was just killed."
"I'd argue it is his first priority. He will be king one day—"
"I know—" you interrupted.
"—and he will need a wife when he sits the throne. Why should it not be you?"
You stared at him blankly, taking in a sharp breath through your nose. "He.. he expressed.. an interest. In the future."
Your father's eyebrows shot up. "Did he?"
"He did. But nothing is guaranteed."
"See? I told you, I'd recognize that look anywhere." He chuckled.
"Please, stop." You pleaded, your face heating up in embarrassment. If your mother were around, it would be easier to talk to her about such topics. You only had your father left, however, and though he was eager for you to wed one day it was never the easiest to speak to him about potential suitors.
"Alright, alright." He relented, looking at you with a certain fondness in his gaze. "He seems like a good boy." He muttered. "If he is anything like his father was.. I am sure he will treat you well."
You looked back up at him. You knew your expression gave away just how flustered you were, but he said nothing of it. You nodded in agreement. You knew Valarr better than your father did. If he had already managed to deduce that he was good.. you smiled to yourself.
"You should find him." He told you after a pause. "I'll be sitting here all day. He and his family will be leaving by the evening."
"I shouldn't leave you—"
"Go." He replied firmly. "I will be here upon your return. Go. You will regret it if you don't."
You looked back at him, your gaze searching his face. You saw no doubt in his eyes, and determination laced his words. He nodded at you again, and vaguely gestured towards the tent flap. You let out a breath, pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, rushed out a goodbye, and hurried back out of your tent.
The world was still gray, but you swore it looked just a little brighter as you rushed through the fields of Ashford Meadow. Balled up hands held onto the ends of your dress, preventing you from tripping over the fabric as you tried to find Valarr in time before he left. What would you say? You had no idea. You only knew that your father was right. You would regret it if you didn't see him again. If you didn't bid him farewell before he returned to Dragonstone.
It didn't take you long to find him.
People talked, you knew, and it was easy to deduce where he was based off of conversation alone. "He wished to be alone," someone said. "I hear he enjoys the company of his horse more than anything right now." Someone else replied.
The stables.
By the time you saw him, you were out of breath. Your face was flushed and your heart was pounding by how fast you'd ran to get here in time. All you could do was stare at him for a moment. The action was so mundane. He was running long fingers through the mane of his horse, murmuring something to the animal underneath his breath.
You swallowed the lump in your throat.
"Valarr?" You called out, loud enough for him to hear you from where he stood in the yard.
He turned his head to look over his shoulder, eyes squinting as he met the sun. He said your name, patting his horse once again before he turned and took a few steps towards you. "I.. did not expect to see you again before we left." He admitted.
"I.." you paused. You had to see him again, but you certainly couldn't tell him that. "I wished to say goodbye and.. bid you safe travels."
He managed a smile. Weak, but still there. "It is greatly appreciated, my lady." He took in a breath, brushing his hands against his pants. They were dirtier than they usually were, covered in dirt from where he'd been sitting with you on that log in the woods. It made him look.. more human, somehow. His appearance was always so perfect. It was hard to remember that he was human.
"How fares your father?" Valarr asked after a moment of comfortable silence. It was easy to stay quiet with him. His presence was enough.
"He is on the mend." You replied with a nod, holding your hands together in front of you. Your dress was dirty too. The ends of it were covered in mud. Some older, and some much more recent. You didn't care about it.
"Good. I'm.. pleased to hear it. Please send him my well wishes."
"I will." You told him.
He glanced around, eyes taking in your surroundings. It seemed to be just the two of you. You watched as he took his bottom lip between his teeth, and then released it. How he'd managed to still be so put together was beyond you. Were it you in his shoes, you doubted you could retain your composure for so long.
"I.. I would like to see you again." You finally forced out.
He looked back at you, soft chuckles escaping from his parted lips. "I'd like to see you again, too. For.. everything that has happened these past few days, meeting you has been the highlight of it all."
Your thoughts flashed to his father. You wondered if you'd be able to enjoy any memories from this tourney were it your father you were mourning. You decided not to think on it any further, your heart already weighing heavier than you would've liked.
"Perhaps you could.. pay a visit to Dragonstone."
"Are you sure?" You couldn't help but to ask. It would be inappropriate, you told yourself. It would be unseemly for an unmarried lady to travel so far to visit anyone, let alone a prince of House Targaryen. If it was so wrong, why did you want it so badly? No matter how hard you tried to find an answer, you couldn't. All you could find was want.
"I am sure. If you're agreeable." He murmured, his voice lowering.
You stared back at him, your face hot. "I.. am, yes. I would like that."
He smiled. Not like one from before.. but a smile, nonetheless. "Wonderful." He said. He lifted a hand, and brushed a loose strand of your hair out of your face. He tucked it behind your ear after a moment, his mismatched eyes lingering on it between his fingers. Your breath caught in your throat.
"Valarr.." you whispered. You didn't know what you wanted to say to him. You just liked saying his name.
He hummed, glancing back at your face.
All of this seemed inappropriate. It was inappropriate.
He stood a little taller, and he moved a little closer. Your head tilted as you angled yourself to look up at him, and he stared down at you with gentle, sweet eyes. The eyes that you'd found yourself thinking about more often than you'd anticipated.
He leaned closer.. and his lips pressed to the corner of your mouth. It couldn't have lasted for more than a few seconds, and you thought that it wasn't enough. Though you barely felt them against your skin, his lips somehow felt even softer so close to your mouth than they did on your hands. You blinked a few times.
"I have to leave you wanting for something, don't I?" He breathed out, tilting his head to match your own.
"I never.. took you for such a tease." You whispered back.
"I am full of surprises." He replied quickly, the corners of his lips twitching upwards into a playful smile.
Though he had lost so much not even a night ago, he'd managed to keep himself so composed. So.. himself, even in the face of so much agony. You looked around, confirming that the two of you were still alone, before you took his hands into your own.
"Before we met.. I assumed that you would be cruel." You confessed to him. He raised an eyebrow, though he said nothing. "As I had heard so little about you, and.. much about Aerion. It was easy to think that way and—" you cut yourself off before you could continue, and you let out a breath. "I have never been.. so happy to be wrong." You told him.
Valarr watched you silently, his eyes trailing down to your hands. He pressed his thumbs into your skin.
"You are kind.. and wonderful. And you told me that you would like to know me, whatever it may bring. And I would like the same."
His grin was small, but it was present, and that was all you wished for.
"I know how I would like to know you, Lady Redwyne." He whispered back to you. "I know what I said before.. but I have never been so confident in anything until now. That it is you that I wish to court."
It still managed to shock you, even if it wasn't the first time you'd heard him say he wanted to marry you. You supposed that this time felt more real. You knew he still grieved. It would be better to take the time to mourn, but— should he have you— you would be by his side through it all.
You had time. Valarr had time.
"I.. wish for the same." You admitted to him, a weight lifting from your shoulders as you said it aloud.
"Then it shall be." He murmured, squeezing your hands. He kissed the back of one, just as he did on the first night you met. "We.. are leaving, soon. Returning home. I will send a raven upon my return to Dragonstone. You will keep in touch, yes?" He asked, an eyebrow raised.
You rolled your eyes. "Do you have any doubt?"
He laughed. He let go of your hands. They felt empty now, without his touch weighing against your skin.
You bid him farewell, and returned to your tent. You did not know when you would see Prince Valarr Targaryen again, but a warmth spread through your chest at the mere thought of him. Of the future you so desperately wanted with him.
You had time, you repeated.
Spring was on the horizon.
You had time.
notes: ~3k words for this part! the.. ambiguous.. ending came to me as i was writing. i like to imagine lady redwyne and valarr getting married and living happily ever after, but i couldn't help but to slip in a reference to the great spring sickness for those of us (mostly myself) with angst brain..
sorry for no real kisses. i couldn't find a way to put one in without it feeling weird, pacing wise.. so i think this not-kiss-sorta-kiss is a great way to enact the same feeling. it makes the yearning 20x more stronger to me, anyway!
i'm not sure if i'll write more for these two in particular, but i do have ideas for valarr and readers from other houses that may or may not come in the future. it all just depends on how i'm feeling, really :')
anyway, thanks again for all of your kind words and support on my writing! it means the world to me that so many of you— both here on tumblr and over on ao3— enjoyed this little story enough to stick around. i know i had a lot of fun writing it, and i loved every second.
tags: @luvweezer @glitchinmatrixx @ladyhesperus @7775sblog @th3d1n0r3ad3r @theoriginalwifeofhanjumin @gotham-lady @oscarisdaddy69 @bloumourn @rebeccawinters @jellyfrogz @nixtape-foryou @lauramooij05 @pinkraindropsfell @valarrsgirl @crimsonvaporterminus @rakilein @thaliasnicket @smilefortae @yohanseyebrowmole @leclrchalamet @enchantingyouthbluebird @mrsjohnnysuh @adr14anna @al4storfan @hadesnumber1daughter @jellyfrogz @sleepy-time @read-just-cant-stop @deliciousfestsalad @high-speed-r @ninaaaaa2007 @boundandbrews @rakilein (special thanks to all of you for joining this taglist!!)
after i wrap up this part, i'm going to resume work on the few requests that i do have! i'm super excited to get to them and i'm sorry it's taken so long for some of these </3 thank you all for being so patient and understanding with me it's really so appreciated
working on the next part of 'i was enchanted to meet you'! i'm hoping to have it up within the next few days. this will probably be the last part of this little mini-series.. but who knows. we'll see how this one ends! and even if this is the last part.. it may not be the last we see of lady redwyne :')
Tags • forbidden relationship, adultery, sexual tension, lovemaking, p. in v. sex, canon typical violence (Aerion gets what he deserves), happy ending
Wordcount • 4,815
Unhappily married to Prince Aerion, you are relieved when he is sent away to Lys following the Ashford tourney. In his absence, you and Prince Valarr finally act on your mutual feelings.
Valarr Masterlist
Following the tragedy of Ashford Meadow, horror and shame had been your companions—as Aerion’s wife, you shared his reputation and the rumors attached to his name, and nothing could have caused you more indignity than a lost Trial of the Seven. Prince Baelor had been wounded, and for a few days his life had been believed to be forfeit, but in the end he had pulled through by the grace of the Gods.
Such was your only consolation—you did not know how you would have bared your husband being responsible for the death of the heir to the Iron Throne. Relief did not even begin to blanket the emotions that swelled in your chest when you learned of the king’s decision as the Ashford party returned to the capital.
For his actions and the great shame he had brought to House Targaryen, Aerion would be sent away to Lys, in the hope that he could return as a changed man. Marriage had not set his mind to a righteous path, but perhaps exile would, even though you doubted it. The truth of his soul was clear to you, and he was wicked down to the very bone.
Sometimes you wondered if such a match was a punishment from the Seven, who in their omniscience, had surely seen your future and the desires that would come to you.
Perhaps it was all you deserved, to be married to a man you despised, while longing for the love of his cousin—Prince Valarr.
Would he have been an imperfect man, you could have honestly asked for forgiveness in prayer, and would have easily reasoned with yourself, but you could never find any fault with Valarr. In the years spent at his side, as his cousin by marriage, you found a kindred spirit the like you had never imagined.
It had rapidly been clear that the same blood did not make the same characters. Aerion was a cruel husband, as selfish and vicious in private as he was in public, and you bore it in silence for the sake of your house, but also for the sake of your own dignity.
Despite the birth of a son within the first year of your marriage, he had not softened. While the entire household had praised you and surrounded the babe with pride, Aerion had only grown more sullen and disinterested.
Even his son, little Maegor, did not hold his interest more than in passing, when he could gloat about his legacy and taunt his brothers or cousins with it—the rest of the time he did not visit the nursery.
Instead, you found companionship and comfort in Prince Valarr, and over the months, saw his demeanor change, from a natural kindness to purposeful tenderness, even though he never crossed the bounds of propriety. It was a secret you kept even from yourselves, never voicing it, only allowing it to live in the fleeting moments where you shared air.
The two of you avoided being alone in private, for you were aware of his lingering glances, and knew full well his heart beat at the same rhythm as yours. It was the sweetest torture, to be in his presence, knowing he hungered for your touch as much as you did his.
Despite the torment, you knew Valarr was honorable to a fault, and despite Aerion’s cruelty, would never stray so far as to sin with another man’s wife—until the Trial of the Seven, and Aerion was sent away.
On the morning of his departure from King’s Landing, you stood at the ramparts, watching the ship leave the harbor. The black and red pavilion was swinging in the wind, and you found yourself silently wishing for a tragedy, that it would sink on its way to Lys.
As long as the ship was in view, you still could not breathe, and it was only when it disappeared on the horizon that you felt you could, finally, let out the painful breath you had been holding.
Every morning for three days you returned to the same outpost in search of the familiar pavilion, until reality finally registered—he was gone for good, and would not come back until the king had forgiven him. On that third morning, footsteps came to interrupt your new ritual, careful and measured, and you did not need to look over your shoulder to know that it was Valarr.
“He is gone,” you murmured when he came to stand beside you, always three paces at your side, never close enough for you to touch, nor feel his warmth. “It has been days now, but I could scarcely believe it.”
“Indeed he is. I watched him board the ship,” Valarr replied in the same careful tone.
In truth he felt none of the calm he was forcing himself to express—since he had known Aerion would be sent to Lys, a terrifying thought had taken root within him, one he could not rid himself of. These last few years had tormented him with the sight of you at Aerion’s arm, suffering his madness and cruelty.
Valarr’s soul yearned for yours in a way that could not be reasoned with or healed by prayer, and to his greatest shame, so did his body. Many a night he had wanted to slip past the watchful eyes of the guards and into your chambers, to promise you a moment of reprieve.
He would have been content simply to lay eyes upon you, and to serve your pleasure, ignoring his own, but even this was a transgression greater than could be forgiven.
He would rather be struck down than compromise you in any way and risk your honor.
However, now that Aerion had been cast away, his treacherous heart mind would not let him sleep nor think of anything else. While you were still bound to another man, the threat was gone.
As he stood at your side on the rampart, the both of you looking out at the sea, Valarr could scarcely contain himself. His whole body was alight with it, his hands trembling despite years of training with the master-at-arms.
Never before had he felt such nerves, not even during his first tourney, faced with seasoned knights in armor. The battle was lost before it was even started, he knew—a single word from you, or a breath, a blink, any sign at all that you desired him and he would cave, he was certain of it.
There was no honor to it, but his love was too fierce, running too deep in his very bones, and it could not be contained anymore. However if a step had to be taken, it had to be by you. It was outrageous enough, he could not bring himself to lead you down that path, but he would gladly follow your guidance.
Perhaps it made a coward of him, but he thought it would be best to be called with courage rather than to be called mad and cruel.
Valarr forced his breathing to quiet down, focusing his mind on the sound of the waves, swallowing his mounting sorrow at the prospect that you would never dare make this request of him. Or might it be that you simply did not desire him as fiercely as he did you, and were content by his side as a companion, within the bounds of propriety.
“Perhaps—” you suddenly said, nearly startling him, but then stopped yourself.
Valarr remained silent, nodding slowly, allowing you the space you needed to make your offer, despite his heart galloping in his chest with the strength of a wild horse. Neither of you looked to the other, keeping your eyes firmly on the horizon.
No matter what you were about to propose, he knew he would agree and fall in line with your boundaries. A simple kiss would be enough to sustain him if that was all you wanted to grant him, and he would cherish its memory for the rest of his days, but if you let him, he would promise you his whole soul.
He had been taught the value of stillness and patience, rather than rash action, and if there was ever a time for those to be tested in him, it would be now. He held his breath and existed in the precious moment where your trust in him might extend into a proposal—one chance, it was all he prayed for.
“Just one time,” you pleaded, and he wanted to fall to his knees. “Just one night.”
“Yes,” he vowed, grateful tears coming to his eyes at the prospect, a wave of relief crashing through him at the knowledge that he would not be sent away to mourn what could have been.
“Tonight. And you must be gone before dawn,” you murmured.
Valarr nodded again, releasing the breath he had been holding. He did not dare reach out, no matter how much his palm was burning, his fingers tingling. He would be allowed to touch you tonight, and the thought was nearly unbearable.
“I will come,” he simply said, and such a simple promise seemed enough to reassure you. He glanced your way, admiring the subtle shadows your eyelashes were casting on your cheek, and swallowed his emotion at the single, lonely tear that was now pearling at your jaw.
Valarr’s breath was coming in unsteady pants as he made his way through the castle later that day, once evening had fallen and supper had passed, although he had not been able to swallow a single mouthful. Even a sip of wine had tasted too bitter on his tongue, the back of his throat tight with longing.
He had spent all the hours of the day wondering about what would occur—how did a man make love to a woman that was not his, that he desired more than anything on this earth? Would you tremble in his arms or would he be the one falling apart?
Valarr locked the door behind himself carefully as he came into your chambers. Your rooms were silent and almost dark, and there you stood like providence, dressed in only a nightgown. It felt like an intrusion to see you in such a state of undress, and it stirred Valarr’s loins like no fantasy had ever managed to.
“I may still go, if you have changed your mind,” he offered, and to his utter relief, you shook your head.
Time was suspended for a second, or it might have been a minute, where you and Valarr just stared at each other, afraid beyond measure to cross the line of propriety, breathless with the burning desire of transgressing but unwilling to corrupt the other. In the end, neither of you could say who had taken the first step, but the result was devastating.
Slowly, the two of you took a step towards the other, then another, then again until you were breathing the same air, foreheads pressed together and trembling hands hovering over the other’s shoulders.
“I’ve longed for this,” Valarr confessed, and you could almost taste his declaration.
Trembling, he pressed a kiss to your cheekbone, lingering, making your eyes flutter in delight. Never before had you felt so adored, and made so undone by such a simple gesture. You pressed yourself up closer blindly, chasing his breath until your lips found his for what you meant to be a quick, chaste kiss, but Valarr’s mouth fell open at your boldness.
The two of you kissed with the force of years of yearning, and countless moments of longing poured between you, his tongue curling with yours desperately while your fingers carded through his hair. Valarr could not help the trembling of his hands when they cradled your face, nor the broken moans that fell from his lips.
Slowly, almost reverently, you both undressed the other, revealing more skin with each layer shed, until you stood face to face with your bodies entirely bare. His creamy skin was spattered with freckles you explored, your palms travelling over his chest and shoulders in wonder, slowly making their way down to where his slim waist tapered into narrow hips.
The sight of him entirely bare made you clench, and you surprised yourself with wanting to kiss him everywhere. It seemed the same desire took hold of him. His mouth wandered across your skin, wherever he could reach, in tender kisses that left you breathless and shivering—the soft divot under your ear, the crook of your neck, the swell of your chest.
“May I?” he whispered, so low you almost didn’t hear him, and you were agreeing before you were even sure he was asking something of you. You felt his hands graze your breasts, feeling their curve gently, as though he was afraid to push into the soft flesh.
Hesitantly, you wrapped your hand around him, and stroked him slowly, enjoying the smooth glide of skin over the hard length. His eyes fluttered shut and his mouth dropped open on a silent cry, until eventually he sighed so quietly that you thought it reverent.
“We need not go further than this,” he reassured you, but his eyes were dark with desire, and they made you want to plead with him.
Passion took over reason, and you shared another deep kiss while you made your way to the bed, falling to the sheets entangled. Valarr found his rightful place between your parted thighs, and resting into the cradle of your hips, your thighs bracketing his waist already felt more than he could handle and he had to take a few deep breaths in your neck.
“I might die if you do not—” you cried out, only to fall silent when his cock slid over your core, making the two of you gasp. Valarr’s cock throbbed when he felt you were already wet, subtly chasing pleasure by shifting your hips up into him.
Desire made him lose all sense of reason, and he could only comply with your pleading. His own pleas died on his lips and he reached between your bodies with a trembling hand, guiding himself between your folds. The simple feeling of his tip fitting into the divot that led into your body made him gasp aloud, moaning when you clenched around him.
“Oh Gods,” he groaned, and you kissed his parted lips for it.
Valarr breached you slowly, savoring the push into your body, and the way it gave under the press of his hips. The tightness made his head spin, pleasure sparkling at the base of his spine, and the intense relief of finally being one with you brought tears to his eyes.
“Valarr,” you sighed, hiding your face in his shoulder.
The stretch of his cock inside of you was a wave of heat, unrelenting, that left you still wanting for him as much as you had before he had touched you. Each of his thrusts only served to fan the fire inside of you. Never before had you felt this way, and you had never imagined that it ever existed.
“I love you,” he confessed in a pleading tone. Your reaction was immediate—you grew tighter around his cock and your thighs quivered. He wanted to beg for things he could not even name.
“Please,” you gasped, your entire being flushing in delight and shock alike—while you had known, deep down, that his heart beat the same rhythm as yours, it was another experience entirely to hear him put words to it.
“I love you,” he said again, this time into a kiss that stole your breath. Your arms tightened around his back, your nails digging into his shoulders, and he clung to you just as fiercely. Legs entangled and arms wrapped tightly around the other, you held each other through the mounting pleasure.
The both of you grew frantic, your hips rolling together in a relentless wave while the edge steadily crept towards you, inevitable. There was nothing in the world that compared to you, safe in his arms, surrendering to a love that was forbidden to the both of you.
Valarr bit his lower lip as pressure grew at the base of his spine, desperate not to reach his peak before you, instead focusing on the way you rocked up against him, grounding your hips into his lower abdomen.
“I love you,” you moaned, your eyes fluttering close, and Valarr was lost. Head hanging between his shoulders, his hips thrusted forward once, twice, and then stilled as he spilled inside of you, powerless to stop the wave of ecstasy that crashed through him.
The sight of him in the throes of pleasure was your undoing, your core quivering in unison with his own peak. Clinging to him, eyes wide open in the dark, you knew that whatever was to come, you would love this man until the end of your days.
While you had intended to contain this transgression to one night, fate seemingly had other plans and announced itself in the form of a tightness in your breasts and a sudden aversion for perfumes a moon after that fateful night. The same signs as your first pregnancy with your son, and you recognized them immediately.
Unsure whether or not it was a blessing or a curse from the Gods, you went to Valarr, and his reaction was as graceful as you had expected. The two of you had avoided each other’s presence since then, throwing yourselves into your duties, Valarr serving the king and you tending to your son.
“Are you quite certain?” Valarr asked, but his tone was not tainted with fear, only with marvel.
“I will go to Prince Maekar, tell him the news,” you explained the plan you had spent the night agonizing over. “There is no reason for anyone to believe Aerion did not share my bed right before he was exiled.”
Valarr nodded his approval, then shook his head as though another thought had suddenly come to him.
“Still, I could not stand by idly. I will do my duty by you and take this child to ward. Surely the king will be glad of a man to stand in when Aerion could not,” he vowed.
The king indeed agreed to this sensible course of action, and it was decided then, that you would travel to Summerhall to join Prince Daeron and his wife. With Aerion on the other side of the sea, there was now great hope for Maegor to grow in the opposite direction from the fateful name he had been given by his father, and away from Red Keep seemed the better choice to raise him.
Therefore this was how, nine months after your husband was sent away in exile, the walls of Summerhall bore witness as you gave birth to a dark-haired daughter.
Time went on in peace and relative harmony, as you got along with Daeron’s wife quite well, and enjoyed the environment of Summerhall. Maegor thrived under the guidance of his uncle Daeron and cousin Valarr, and you were relieved to see none of his father’s temper in him.
Little Rhaenys, named in reminder of a queen that never came to be and bore dark hair as well, was the sweetest child you could have imagined. Valarr doted on her as his ward, as any family would, he defended, and you lived your love in as much secret as such a castle allowed. Prince Daeron surely knew, but no word was ever spoken on the matter, and his wife regarded you with the same care.
Life was sweet and peaceful until one day, not far from your daughter’s third name day, a letter came from King’s Landing, bearing the king’s own sigil. “I have been summoned,” you told Valarr in a terrified whisper. “The king has expressly requested me to bring my children.”
Valarr took a shaky breath, his hands curling around your elbows, gently holding you up. “I will not abandon you. I will own up to my transgressions,” he promised, and thus accompanied you back from the Stormlands all the way to the capital.
The journey was long enough to be agony, but too short for you to find the adequate words in case you would need to explain yourself. The king was merciful, you reminded yourself, clinging to that knowledge, and your children would be safe.
However, as you crossed the doors to the Red Keep and entered the As you entered the hall, your blood suddenly turned cold, for it was not King Daeron waiting for you.
Leaning against a pillar, there stood Aerion. His skin was tanned and marked with some new scars, and his hair was long, tied up behind his head in what seemed to be a Tyroshi style. “Well, well,” he grinned as he saw you and Valarr side by side.
“Husband,” you greeted, although you feared the word would choke you.
“Cousin,” Valarr said coldly, taking a step forward, wanting to shield you, but you stopped him with a hand to the arm. The transgression was yours, more than it was his, and all these years had given you the courage and resilience you needed to face him again.
“Imagine my surprise when I arrived, learning that my wife had fled the capital in shame, and my cousin had followed,” Aerion crooned, pushing from the pillar and slowly stalking towards you. “The two of you seem awfully familiar.”
Valarr tensed. “Someone had to take over your duties while you were gone.”
Aerion laughed at that. “And what duty did you take over, exactly?” he asked, looking you over as though he was expecting another sign of your betrayal.
Valarr did not answer, for all knew there was no denying any of it. While Summerhall was further away and less prone to gossip like the court was, there were indeed rumors regarding little Rhaenys’ parentage.
“I would like to see this daughter of mine, now,” Aerion said with a smile, but there was nothing pleasant about it.
Rhaenys buried her face in the pleats of your dress, and you trembled, unwilling to hand him the child. She was nearly three of age now and had only known you and Valarr, and you felt nauseous at the idea of Aerion laying a single finger on her.
“Say hello, my love,” you whispered, tears rising in your eyes, and Rhaenys did not obey, as though she could tell you did not mean for her to comply.
“Give me the child,” Aerion said again.
Valarr stepped forward again and this time, you did not stop him. “She does not know you,” he protested.
Aerion shoved him roughly to the side. “Stay out of this, cousin, this is a family matter, between my wife and I,” he insisted, glancing at the kingsguards who were watching the scene. Valarr swallowed painfully, reality striking him in the face after several years of living in denial that Aerion would come back.
Aerion gestured towards Maegor, who was still standing on the other side of you. “Come, now. Surely you remember your father,” he commanded, and Maegor reluctantly made his way towards him, throwing you a pleading look over his shoulder, begging you to come as well. “You belong with me.”
Tears in your eyes, you picked up Rhanys, hiding her face in your shoulder. With a last, lingering look towards Valarr, you stepped after Aerion, who was already making his way towards the royal quarters, holding Maegor by the shoulders.
“Come, wife, I shall want to reacquaint myself with you,” he announced loud enough for all to hear, and all Valarr could do was watch you go.
He had almost forgotten the agony of watching you with Aerion, and now it was back tenfold, knowing how perfectly you were suited to him, and how lovely your life had been in recent years. He had almost deluded himself in thinking it was not borrowed time, and now he had to pay for it.
Desperate to get you out of Aerion’s claws, Valarr poured over laws of the kingdoms all day and evening, wondering if challenging his cousin to an unprovoked duel would be his only chance—surely no one would object to it, if only he could find a reason, a wrong Aerion had done to him. Or perhaps he could force Aerion to challenge him, but Valarr could not do that without revealing the truth many already knew and bringing you the utmost shame.
Before he could decide on what petition to bring to the king, a hurried knock was at his door, and it opened without him having the time to respond. The door slammed against the wall and little Maegor came running. The boy’s eyes were wide, his face gray with terror.
“Cousin! Come, he’s hurting Mother!” Maegor shouted through sobs, and Valarr sprang into action. He ran the length of the hallway with his heart thundering in his throat, the little boy struggling behind him.
Two kingsguards were already involved, hovering in the doorway of Aerion’s chambers, attempting to reason with him. Valarr pushed past them, ducking under their shoulders and ignoring their calls.
“Stay back!” he commanded them, and they complied, simply putting a hand on his shoulder, their hands on the pommel of their swords.
Pacing the large carpet in the middle of his rooms, Aerion looked crazed, like a man possessed—his clothes were disheveled and it was obvious he was drunk. He was carrying a cup in one hand and with the other, dragging little Rhaenys by the arm, who was crying in distress.
Valarr started shaking, in fury and in fright both.
Hovering at a safe distance, hands outstretched ahead of you, you were pleading with him. “She is an innocent, if you must punish someone, then punish me!” you screamed. It took a minute for Valarr to understand what was troubling you, when the cup sloshed and a green liquid fell over the edge, instantly burning a hole in the carpet.
“You will take whatever punishment I see fit, you harlot,” he spat out. Behind him on a desk, sat a small barrel marked with a sigil Valarr recognized, and that made his stomach roll. Wildfire.
Taking a few, slow steps forward, Valarr forced his voice to be steady and calm. “Hand her the child, cousin, and we might talk. Your grievances are with me, not with any one of them.”
Aerion laughed, holding the cup up higher. “Talking will not save you or her,” he screeched. “No one crosses the dragon!”
He looked manic, lost to some sort of fit of madness—Valarr had seen him in this way too many times, but never had he looked so dangerous than in that moment. “Give me my daughter, Aerion,” he warned, ready to spring and wrench his child out of his grip, thinking that if the kingsguard at his back followed him, between the two of them they could shield Rhaenys of the fire.
“You admit it, then, you treacherous bastard!” Aerion screamed, and Valarr sprang into action, Ser Donnell at his back. “You will regret it when I will crush you! I will burn you to ashes!”
However no fire came to burn Valarr’s back. Instead, all watched in horror as Aerion tipped the cup back towards himself, pouring the liquid into his mouth—the room erupted in screams you did not hear, instead you ran towards Rhaenys, picking her up from the floor and running out, her face buried in your shoulder.
Valarr came to find you in his own chambers, curled up with your children on one of his settees, Rhaenys fast asleep against your chest while Maegor was clinging to your shoulder., his own eyes fluttering. “The shock exhausted her, I think,” you said, and Valarr took her from you easily, carrying her to his own bed and setting her against the pillows.
It was the same gestures he had performed a hundred times over, but this time he felt truly legitimate. He pressed a lingering kiss to her temple, breathing her in, before pulling a woolen blanket over her.
“Aerion is gone for good, now,” he murmured, looking down at his sleeping daughter. “I will ask the king for your hand. The children should be raised by family and your house will want to maintain their arrangement with the crown.”
Maegor made a sound against your shoulder, curious and tired in equal measure. “Will the king approve it?” you wondered out loud.
“I will go against his wishes if he doesn’t allow it,” Valarr said, sounding determined. You watched as he stroked the back of his knuckles over your daughter’s hair.
“He might not have a choice, if he wants to avoid scandal,” you replied, which made Valarr turn to you.
“What do you mean?” he whispered, but you kept silent, your hand coming to rest on your belly.
Dividers by @/saradika. Not beta read. Based on this request.
summary: tragedy strikes the ashford tourney. your relationship with valarr deepens while in the throes of grief.
tags: sfw, semi-canon compliant (valarr is not married), no use of y/n, angst, hurt/comfort, canon character death
author's note: i wrote this chapter in one sitting. i felt super inspired after last night (and opinions about the fates of our beloved dilfs from you all), that i wanted to update as soon as i could. i'm actually pretty pleased with this chapter, and i think the ending is really sweet in spite of all of the sadness and angst here. i hope you all enjoy!
previous — next
Prince Baelor Targaryen was dead.
You were not sure how long it had been since you had told Valarr to stay. You'd sat with him in silence, the air hanging tensely above you as you stared out over the empty tents ahead of you. The trial itself was too far for you to hear. You were thankful for that. You didn't think that you could stomach the sound of people cheering while your father fought for his life.
There was real risk in what he was doing. The men he fought against would do anything to protect their prince. Even if it meant killing someone.
You chewed at your lip, hands clasped together in your lap as you wordlessly watched the banner of House Ashford flap in the wind in the distance. How could anyone have anticipated this? You knew that this certainly wasn't what you'd expected once you'd arrived. You were imagining a normal tournament. Jousting, feasts.. gatherings.. suitors. Once it was all over, you would leave and return to the Arbor as if nothing had happened at all. You knew now that this would be practically impossible to forget.
Guards wearing the three headed dragon of House Targaryen on their breastplate came to find Valarr. Their expressions were solemn and nigh unreadable, which only left a sense of dread in your chest. He'd been holding onto your hand for most of the time he'd been sitting with you. His thumb would run over the back of it, and then his fingers would entwine with yours. He'd squeeze your hand and sit with you quietly, heavy hearts beating in sync.
"Come with me," Valarr had said softly, his gaze revealing all of his anxieties. You couldn't tell him no. If the looks on the faces of his guards told you anything.. it meant that something had went horribly wrong. You trailed after him and his entourage quietly, glancing around in hopes of finding your father in the chaos of the crowd that had disbanded after the end of the trial.
You found nothing other than stares.
House Targaryen had been given the honor and pleasure of staying inside of House Ashford's ancestral castle. It didn't surprise you at all. They were the royal family, and it only made sense for them to be given adequate housing. The walls were tall, gray and relatively colorless save for the occasional banner.
You'd never been around so many members of his family before. You had only met Aerion, and all the others seemed like giants. House Targaryen seemed untouchable by most. Even if you were a noble lady, House Redwyne was never particularly entwined with their goings on. You stuck out like a sore thumb next to Valarr in the purple of your house, but he kept you close to his side regardless.
You weren't sure who had told him. You were stopped by a few guards outside of another room, while Valarr was let inside. You couldn't hear the conversation very well through the wall. The only way you knew what had transpired inside was the look on his face once he'd left. His eyes were unblinking. They'd lost the light they usually carried within them. His hands were shaking, his shoulders rising and falling with each unsteady breath he took.
Prince Baelor was dead.
You'd heard whispers about what had happened to him as you walked through the halls of the castle and back outside and into the warm air of the meadow. "Prince Maekar killed him," you heard a maid say, "they said he was jealous of his brother, and he wanted him gone."
"It was an accident." You heard another argue. "Who'd do that on purpose?"
"I heard he was unrecognizable." Someone else added. "His head was already in pieces once they managed to get the helmet off. His son's helmet."
It took everything in you to keep walking.
Valarr did not cry. He kept his head forward, unable to force himself to even look at you. Your heart ached. This loss was nothing short of a tragedy. Baelor Targaryen was heir to the Iron Throne, and Hand of the King. He was good, he was kind and noble.. just like your own father. You wondered if the Gods would be so cruel as to take him from you, too.
He never told you to leave him, and so you remained as his side as he walked further and further away from the tournament. Guards did not follow him. Gazes lingered upon him—the new heir to the Iron Throne— but no one dared to speak to him yet. Most looks were filled with anguish of their own. Sadness, or perhaps pity. You could hardly tell the difference.
Valarr stopped in a clearing. You couldn't be too far away from Ashford, as when you looked over your shoulder in the direction you came you could still see the tents and castle in the distance. Even from this far away, it looked like a dire event. How could it have changed so much? You didn't have the slightest idea.
The prince sat down on a fallen log, his hands brushing against the fabric of his clothing. You joined him. You sat closer to him than you ever had before, your shoulder brushing against his as you attempted to make yourself comfortable. You could've never imagined being in this scenario. What could you say to comfort him?
"Your father lives. A.. maester is looking at him now." Valarr breathed out, staring at the trees. The wind blew through the leaves and your hair, pushing your hair into your face. As selfish as it was, you felt relief seep through your bones at his words. "My uncle told me, before.." he pursed his lips together. His eyes were red, even despite his lack of tears. You couldn't ask him to finish his sentence. You couldn't even begin to imagine how he felt.
"I am so sorry." You finally said. You looked down at his hand, shaking against his knee. After a moment's hesitation, you took it into his own. You did with him just as he did with you. Rubbed your thumb against his skin, and the tangled your fingers together. He nodded, but otherwise said nothing in response. Now that you were alone, it looked as though he was close to crying. You said nothing about that, and instead only leaned closer to him.
"I should have.. tried harder." He forced himself to say. His shoulders were slumped. Never had you seen him so defeated. "No," you whispered back to him, shaking your head. "Valarr.. this is not your fault." You reassured him.
He finally glanced at you, sharply sucking in a breath through parted lips. "He died in my armor." He told you.
You knew that was true already. He'd told you that when you were sitting together, before you asked him to stay. You let out a breath, your other hand coming to rest on his arm.
"This is not your fault." You repeated, unable to find the words to say to comfort him further. What was there to say in this situation? Baelor's death was unexpected by all. How could he have known what would happen?
"I had a.. horrible feeling." Valarr continued. As you looked at him, you could see how his lip trembled. "I should have.. I should have—"
"Valarr.." you whispered.
"No," he replied, turning his head to abruptly look at you for the first time since the news. "There was more I could have done. I know it. I should have fought in his stead. I should have refused to give him my armor. I should have.."
You bit your lip, your gaze flickering back and forth between his eyes. Blue and brown.. blue and brown, over and over again.
"I'm sorry."
"For what?" You murmured, rubbing your thumb into his arm in soothing circles.
"You asked for none of this."
"If I did not wish to be here, I would have left." You told him quickly. He stared back at you, tears welling up in his eyes that he attempted to blink away. He took in a breath, shaky yet heavy, and nodded.
"Your father.. he would not have let you fight." You continued after a pause, adjusting yourself to turn to face him head on. "If you had not given your armor.. I am sure he could have found another." You told him softly. It would be difficult to hear, but you knew he needed the truth.
"The Gods are cruel." Valarr said.
You nodded. You had no argument, and you found yourself agreeing with his words entirely. The Gods— fate— was cruel.
Life is not fair, you heard your father say. And the Gods are cruel, you added on. Cruel for ripping a father from his son. Cruel for forcing him into a world without him.
"Yes.. they are." You agreed.
You heard him sniffle from next to you, and when you turned your focus to his face, you could see tears running down his cheeks.
The Gods are cruel.
You squeezed his hand, and leaned into his side. He turned to face you, his eyes lingering on your face before he took you into his arms and into a hug. He held you tightly, almost as if he were worried that you would disappear if he were to let go. You returned it as best you could, your arms wrapped around him. His face found its way into the crook of your neck, and he buried it there. He made no effort to move, and he finally let himself break down.
You couldn't find any words to say to comfort him, and so all you could do was hold him as he wept into your neck. Hot tears met your skin, but you made no effort to move. Your hands ran over his back, and his fingers dug into the back of your dress. He pulled you closer and closer, his grip like iron.
You didn't know how long you had been sitting there with him. He pulled away, but he didn't let you go. He looked at you, face pink and stained with tears. "I will be king," he whispered through a sob. "I am heir to.. to the Iron Throne." His shoulders shook. It sounded like complete disbelief. So much had changed for him in such a short amount of time. You frowned, lifting a hand to brush his hair from his eyes.
"I don't.. I don't want that." Valarr told you.
"That's okay." You said. "You don't have to."
"I.. I am not ready. It should be my father. He will be— he would have been— a good king. The greatest. Better than Jaehaerys and Aegon the Conqueror and.. all of the rest of them."
"I know." You whispered back to him, your hand falling from his hair to caress his jaw. "And you.. you are much like your father, Valarr."
His gaze snapped to yours, his brows knitted together. "No. No," he shook his head. "I am not.. not like him. He is more of a man than I ever will be." He argued.
"You are both good. Honorable, noble men. Kind men. How many can say the same?" You retorted. "You will be a good king. Do not.. do not worry about something that has not yet come to pass, Valarr. You will only harm yourself thinking that way."
He squeezed his eyes closed, tears slipping down warm cheeks as he did so. He opened them again to look at you. "I am not ready."
"You don't have to be."
He swallowed. He took in a breath, slow and deep, in an attempt to calm himself down. "I.. will never be." He told you, his voice cracking.
".. That's okay, too." You assured.
His lips parted.
"I am sorry you.. saw me like this." Valarr spoke through the silence. "It is unbecoming."
"Unbecoming?" You repeated. "No, it isn't. You.. have experienced a great loss. I wished to comfort you. To.. be there for you. I did not have to come with you."
".. Thank you." He told you, his eyes finding yours. "I'm not sure what I've done to.. deserve you."
You managed a small smile. "You have been yourself."
He chuckled, lifting his hand to wipe the tears from his face.
You fell silent again. The chirping of birds, and the sound of the wind blowing filled your ears. You looked up towards the sky. The clouds were clearing, and you could finally see a bit of blue through the gray. You leaned into Valarr's side. His arm wrapped around your middle, and his head fell against you own.
"I should marry you." He murmured, thumb rubbing your side.
"What?"
"I should marry you." He replied. His voice sounded completely serious. Usually, you could tell when he was being playful.
"You hardly know me."
"I know that you are good. Kind. Gentle. You.. came all the way out here just to comfort me. You treat me as if I am a person. Not just a prince." Valarr said as if it were the simplest thing in the world.
You glanced at the muddied grass beneath your feet. You doubted that he meant it. He was grieving the loss of his father, and that wound was fresh. You pursed your lips together and took in a deep breath.
"I mean it." He continued after a moment. "I.. will need to wed. If I must, I'd like to marry a good woman."
You shook your head, pulling back from him just enough to see his face. "This is sudden. Surely, you.. you don't mean this."
"Perhaps I am being a fool. But.. you know of my interest." He said your name sweetly, red eyes finding your own. "I asked for your favor. I came to visit you whenever I could. I.. there is no one else I'd wish to spend my life with."
"You don't know me, Valarr."
"I'd like to." He said. It was the same thing he told you the day after you met him. The same day he'd asked you for your favor at the joust. "Most marriages.. they come from nothing. Many don't meet their future wife or husband until the day of the wedding itself. Maybe I don't know you. But I know enough."
I know enough. He'd said that too, in a conversation somewhat reminiscent of this one.
It felt wrong to discuss something like this so soon after the death of his father. You wondered if Baelor would like you. It was said that he liked most people. He was always said to be a kind, warm-hearted man. That would've made him a good king.
You stared at him. His expression didn't falter. He wasn't crying anymore, though the remnants of his tears lingered on his features. His cheeks were pink and his eyes were bloodshot, but the look on his face told you he was nothing but genuine.
Marrying Valarr.. many ladies would love nothing else. You suspected that you knew him better than most ladies, too. He was right about most not meeting their betrothed until the wedding. Wouldn't it be better to marry someone you knew, even if it was only slightly? Wasn't it better to marry someone who you knew was kind, rather than wait and marry a cruel one later?
"Is this too hasty?" You whispered.
"I'm not.. asking for a marriage right now." Valarr said, his voice soft. "Only.. I think you should be the one. When the time comes." He explained. "I'd like to court you properly." He added on after a pause, a playful glint in his eye that you didn't think you'd see again so soon.
You chuckled, though his words did manage to make your face heat up. You managed a smile.
".. Okay. When the time comes." You repeated.
He smiled back at you, pressing his forehead to your own.
Perhaps you were foolish for this. You couldn't find it within yourself to care. Not right now.
Marriage was the future. This moment— this embrace— this was now. You closed your eyes, and leaned into Valarr's touch.
notes: wc is ~2.7k, so a bit shorter than normal but i think it works well with the content of this chapter. i expect some more parts, but probably not more than two or so? unless something else comes up that i want to expand on, maybe!
anyway, sorry this took so long to post! i've been super busy lately, but i'm hoping you all enjoy! i really liked adding all of the callbacks to previous chapters and conversations. i thought it was sweet :')
tags: @luvweezer @glitchinmatrixx @ladyhesperus @7775sblog @th3d1n0r3ad3r @theoriginalwifeofhanjumin @gotham-lady @oscarisdaddy69 @bloumourn @rebeccawinters @jellyfrogz @nixtape-foryou @lauramooij05 @pinkraindropsfell @valarrsgirl @crimsonvaporterminus @rakilein @thaliasnicket @smilefortae @yohanseyebrowmole @leclrchalamet @enchantingyouthbluebird @mrsjohnnysuh @adr14anna @al4storfan @hadesnumber1daughter @jellyfrogz @sleepy-time @read-just-cant-stop @deliciousfestsalad @high-speed-r @ninaaaaa2007 @boundandbrews @rakilein (let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series, and i'm sorry if i missed anyone)!
also.. it might be taking me forever to update 'i was enchanted to meet you' because i can't decide what i want to do with baelor and papa redwyne's fate...
thoughts? should i spare them? should i kill one? should i kill both? i'm a woman of the people, and i need your opinions LOL
helloooo everyone! i hope you're all doing well lately!
i wanted to post a lil update on me. i've been super busy (again) taking care of my grandparents. they can't do much for themselves anymore, and between driving up there and back home, taking care of them, bringing them to doctors appointments.. i don't have much time for writing right now :(
i'm hoping to get to some requests— and perhaps a long awaited new chapter for 'i was enchanted to meet you'— but i can't (unfortunately) make any promises
in the meantime, you're all welcome to talk to me in my inbox, message me, etc. i'm happy to talk to you guys and i'd love to get to know the people who enjoy what i'm writing on here!
thank you all always for your love and support on my writing. it means the world and i really hate leaving you all hanging, but this is how it is right now and i want to be completely transparent as to why requests/updates are taking so long
