⭑.ᐟ valarr targaryen x cousin!reader
they spent months whispering that she wasn't enough of a woman. it took less than a minute for her to remind them she was a dragon
warnings: graphic violence, blood, misogynistic comments
The whispers had started months ago. They slithered through the corridors of the Red Keep, hiding behind silk sleeves and jeweled smiles.
Perhaps the princess is barren.
Perhaps the gods have cursed their line. The rumors reached every corner of court eventually. Servants spoke of it while changing bed linens. Ladies whispered it behind fans. Lords exchanged knowing glances whenever Princess Y/N Targaryen entered a room beside her husband, Prince Valarr.
As if she couldn't hear them.
As if every moon that passed without a babe in her arms wasn't already a wound she carried herself.
Valarr never spoke of the rumors. He merely held her hand tighter whenever court became unbearable.
But that day, fate had decided someone would push too far.
The Great Hall was unusually crowded. Prince Baelor sat at the head of the gathering, discussing matters of justice. Prince Maekar stood beside him, arms folded across his chest.
Valarr lingered nearby, listening. Aerion looked bored enough to start a fight simply for entertainment. Several Kingsguard lined the hall while a shackled prisoner knelt before them.
The man had been captured after attacking a merchant caravan loyal to the crown. He was awaiting judgment.
Everyone's attention was fixed upon him.
The room shifted immediately. Not because she demanded attention. But because she never needed to.
Silver hair flowed down her back. A deep crimson gown swept behind her.
At her side walked Ser Harwin, her personal guard, a giant of a man who never left her unattended.
She crossed the hall without hesitation and approached Prince Maekar.
She handed him a sealed document. "A raven from Summerhall."
Their conversation lasted barely a moment. Then she turned to leave. And that should have been the end of it.
The prisoner laughed. A nasty, ugly sound. The entire hall fell silent.
The man grinned through bloodied teeth. "Perhaps if the princess spent less time playing at politics and more time performing her womanly duties, the realm might finally have an heir."
The sort that falls before a storm.
Valarr's face darkened instantly.
Maekar took a step forward.
Aerion looked delighted by the possibility of violence.
But before any of them could move, Y/N slowly turned around. Her expression was terrifyingly calm. She walked back toward the prisoner. Each footstep echoed through the hall.
The prisoner visibly lost confidence.
Still, he smirked. "Did I offend-"
The words were soft. The entire hall heard them.
The prisoner swallowed. "What?"
Y/N tilted her head. "I said, say it again."
Even Baelor looked uneasy. The prisoner glanced around. No one came to save him. No one looked willing to.
Emboldened by stupidity, he sneered. "I said perhaps if you performed your duties as a wife-"
Y/N stepped directly in front of him. Close enough that he had to crane his neck upward. For the first time, genuine fear entered his eyes.
"You know what fascinates me?" she asked quietly.
The prisoner said nothing.
"You seem to believe my worth is measured by the contents of my womb."
Nobody moved. Nobody breathed.
Y/N continued. "I am Princess Y/N Targaryen."
Her voice rang across the hall.
"Daughter of Prince Maekar."
She pointed toward Valarr.
"Wife to the future king."
"Niece to the Hand of the King."
"And granddaughter of the Dragon."
The prisoner visibly trembled.
"I have commanded soldiers."
"I have negotiated with lords twice your intelligence."
"And yet you think my greatest duty is providing an heir."
The man began backing away despite his chains.
Her voice cracked like a whip.
For perhaps the first time in his life, the prisoner obeyed.
Y/N looked around the hall. At the lords. The knights. The Kingsguard. Every single witness.
Then she smiled. A beautiful smile. The kind that made men nervous.
"I want everyone here to remember this."
The prisoner started shaking.
"I want them to remember exactly who killed you."
Valarr's eyebrows shot upward.
Even Maekar looked surprised.
Then Y/N casually extended a hand. "Ser Harwin."
Without question, her guard reached beneath his cloak and placed a small dagger into her palm. The movement was so practiced it was clear this had happened before.
That realization unsettled everyone. The prisoner started screaming.
Y/N grabbed his hair. Pulled his head back. And with one swift motion, drew the blade across his throat. Blood sprayed across the stone floor. The prisoner collapsed. Dead before he hit the ground.
The hall stood frozen. Absolutely frozen. The only sound was the dagger dripping blood. Y/N stared at the corpse for a moment. Then wiped the blade on the dead man's tunic. Handed it back to Ser Harwin. And smoothed an invisible wrinkle from her sleeve.
"Good day, gentlemen." She turned.
Walked toward the doors. And left. Just like that. The doors closed behind her.
Silence lingered. Long. Painful. Silence.
Finally Aerion broke first. A grin stretched across his face. "Well."
Baelor pinched the bridge of his nose. "Gods help us."
One of the Kingsguard quietly nodded. Another looked impressed despite himself.
Valarr stared at the doors through which his wife had disappeared. Something suspiciously close to pride settled across his features.
Maekar noticed. "You are smiling."
Valarr didn't bother denying it. "A little."
Aerion laughed. "A little? Cousin, your wife just murdered a man in front of half the court."
Valarr folded his arms. "He insulted her."
"He insulted her fertility."
Aerion barked another laugh.
Baelor sighed heavily. "At least pretend this concerns you."
Valarr's gaze remained fixed on the doors. A soft smile touching his lips. "Mostly because I suspect she is going to be furious when she realizes blood got on her favorite gown."
Even Maekar failed to suppress a small smirk. And throughout the hall, every man present shared the same realization.
The princess they had all believed quiet. Gentle. Patient. Had fire in her veins worthy of Old Valyria.
And gods help the fool who forgot it.
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