“My dearest, I must say, Jena and I are still over the moon over your betrothal,” your mother set aside her cup, and clasped her hands together with a dreamy look in her eyes. “We have already thought of some ideas for the wedding, your maiden’s cloak, for instance-“

“Mother,” you suppressed a sigh. “We do not even have a wedding date yet.”

“Yes! Yes, setting a good wedding date is the most important thing. Your father said the wedding date is to be set within the next three to four moons, so peonies will be in season, dear. They are only in season for such a short time, we should definitely..” Your mother happily pivoted, and you resorted to polite nods and hums, while you chewed on a breakfast scone which was feeling drier and drier by the minute.

In the last day and a half - ever since your mother and Lady Jena had learned of the betrothal, to be exact - the two of them had shown a level of joy and excitement you hadn’t thought possible. It started with Lady Jena slamming the door to your family’s quarters open in the yesterday morning while you were breaking fast with your parents, and rushing to tightly wrap your mother in her arms.

“My dearest, dearest darling! We are going to be bound by marriage! Is that not the most magnificent news?” She squeaked.

Your mother had answered with the same level of enthusiasm, with both of them spinning in a circle while hugging, while crying out high-pitched exclamations about the joys of being each other’s in-laws. At one point, Lady Jena had pulled you into the frenzy, and you were squished against both very happy mothers in a group hug.

Ever since then, they’d been inseparable, and if they spotted you and/or Valarr, they’d pounce like lionnesses upon a prey, and wrap you in an avid discussion about wedding planning, family activities, and the likes. 

You were happy your mother was so.. elated about the match, but it left you with scarecely any moments of peace and quiet, not to mention any alone time with Valarr. The initial excitement would surely die down with time, you hoped. And once the tourney was over, you would have ample time to properly reconnect with Valarr; go on horseback rides, walk through the gardens, simply sit somewhere quiet and talk. What even was the point of being betrothed to such a pretty man if you hardly had any tranquil moments alone with him?

So, these circumstances had left you here, in this moment, pouting at breakfast table and trying unsuccessfully to steer the conversation to anything, anything else. However, your mother’s enthusiasm proved unyielding, and her joyful chatters continued on.

Once at the tourney grounds near midday, you were quite satisfied to be left to your own devices for a few moments. Your parents were already in your cousins’ pavillion, undoubtedly to wish good fortune to your youngest cousin, who was entering the squires’ melée to try his chance at knighthood. Your only company was thus your household guard, who trailed after you a few respectful paces behind. 

There was still ample time to walk around the tourney ground, browsing through the merchants’ wares, admiring the fine rolls of silk and velvet, smelling all the exotic herbs and perfumes, and maybe to buy a small spiced pastry from an Essosi baker. The meadow, which was situated right outside of the city gates, was transformed into what resembled a small, lively village. The hammering of the steelworkers rang throughout the field, flattening out the dents in armor from the last two days’ events.

As you were leaning over a merchant’s stand, carefully inspecting a beautifully carved scented candle, a tap on your shoulder jolted you. As you spun around, you came face to face with Valarr, dressed in a simple black and crimson doublet and trousers, as he wasn’t going to parttake in the melées today. 

“Good day, love.” Your betrothed was clearly amused by your surprise.

“Good day, Valarr,” you breathed out, still coming down from your startlement.

“Do you want that candle?” He asked, nodding in the direction of the merchant’s stand.

“What?” Your brain drew a blank. The sun was nearing its highest point, threading its rays through his brown locks and lighting up his eyes. He painted a picture of radiance, the sun lighting up the crown of his head in a golden halo, and his features carved out by sharp shadows.

“You were looking at that candle, love.” The term of affection spilling from his lips was driving you slightly mad. Your eyes flickered between his own mismatched orbs and his lips.

“..Yes?” You faltered out, still a little disoriented by the sight of your betrothed before you.

Without another word, Valarr produced a silver stag from his pocket, and handed it to the merchant. Doubtless, it was far too much for the candle, but Valarr did not pay any mind to it, and simply picked up the candle, passing it over to your guard to be carried and safe-kept.

“Might I accompany you on a walk through the tourney grounds?” He asked, offering his arm.

You nodded, and threaded your arm through his. You set out on a leisurely stroll, your guard and his following a few paces behind. 

“Am I safe to assume that your mother is approaching the matter of our wedding planning with the same overflowing enthusiasm as mine own?” Valarr asked, a hint of amusement persisting in his eyes.

“Yes! Ugh yes, most certainly. So far today, she has made approximately twenty suggestions for the wedding day feast’s courses in the last hours. But do not take me wrong, I am quite happy that my family received the news so well. I just wish.. we’d had some quiet time for ourselves.” You let out a dramatic sigh.

“As do I,” he nodded, “but it is quite wonderful to see that our families are just as content as we are with our match.”

“Has Matarys had anything to say on the matter?” You raised an eyebrow, recalling the time when Matarys pointed to you and asked Valarr loudly whether you were ‘the lady friend he had menttioned’.

At that, Valarr blushed slightly. “He did, in fact. He was rather smug of the fact that he was right.”

“Right about what?” You teased. He did blush so prettily, how were you to resist?

He cleared his throat, his gaze searching the ground. “That- that it was indeed you I had spoken with him about.”

“What did you say about me?” You were full-on grinning now. Valarr’s ears were burning, and silently cursed the gods for testing him so.

“I merely said,” Valarr cleared his throat again, his eyes flittering between you and the ground. “I was looking forward to your arrival.”

“Is that all?” You leaned towards him, fully enjoying the crown prince’s flustered state.

“You are a cruel, cruel woman.” Valarr shook his head, but a smile creeped up his face nevertheless.

As you looked around, you realized you had reached the edge of the tourney ground. The rows of tents and pavillions were behind you, only a meadow with tall grass and wildflower stretching before you. As you checked the coast, it was clear that your two guards were the only ones remotely paying attention to the both of you. Even then, they were keeping a respectful distance, pretending not to see nor hear anything that was going on.

You let go of his arm, and spun around to face him, initially planning on delivering one last teasing blow. His cheeks were still stained the slightest bit of pink, but his eyes displayed clear joy and affection for you. You had to crane your neck back to face him properly, and Valarr was leaning down towards you. Suddenly, you were acutely aware of how close your faces were. Your jest never left your lips, and was instantaneously forgotten as you marveled at his face.

Valarr was facing the sun, the light painting his blue eye the color of morning sky, and his brown eye a golden amber hue. Your gaze traveled from one eye to the next, then, unable to resist the temptation, down to his lips. When you looked back up, Valarr’s eyes were trained on your lips as well.

The noise of the tourney grounds faded into the background. At once, the world narrowed down to only you, Valarr’s face mere inches away from you, and the wind softly blowing onto your face. Meanwhile, the guards were stubbornly trying to act as if they couldn’t see a thing.

The tension could’ve been cut with a knife. With your heart wildly beating in your ribcage, you held the gaze of your handsome betrothed standing in front of you. 

As you finally gained the courage to inch closer, your mother’s voice cut through the air, and you jerked away from each other instantaneously.

“Darlings! The melée is starting soon! Our wonderful servants have prepared cold honeyed wine for you!” She approached you, arm-in-arm with Lady Jena. When she realized how closely you had been standing before, she huffed out an “oh”, looking at Lady Jena with a knowing smirk.

The two mothers giggled, whilst you and Valarr’s faces went up in flames.

“Sorry dears,” Lady Jena said, while turning back around towards the tourney grounds, “please, carry on! We were never here!”

They then walked away, leaving behind girlish giggles and excited whispers.

You and Valarr still stood there, face to face, a good foot between you now. The guards were still staring firmly at the ground. 

“Uh, shall we?” Valarr gestured to the tourney grounds, and you fervently nodded.

“Yes, please. Let us go.” 

-

II. Interrupted by a cousin

The inner courtyard of the Red Keep had a beautiful garden, with white marble pergolas rising among flower vines and bushes, all sorts of flowers, and the best kept hedges one could think of. The tourney and festivities ended a few days ago, the vast halls of the Keep seeming strangely empty with all the guests gone. Your family had lingered, for although all the legal formalities of the marriage had been settled, your parents decided to stay until the wedding ceremony. 

The wedding date had been set for three months from now, as Valarr had wished upon a short betrothal period, but the time span still left ample room for planning. Countless skilled seamstresses, bakers, and cooks were summoned to the Keep for dress fittings and course tastings, and the first ones to arrive would start to stream through the castle gates in a matter of days. That only left you just as many days of peace before everybody would be fussing over you until the wedding ceremony had come to pass, or least until the planning was immaculately, perfectly, flawlessly completed. After all, the wedding was to be a grand affair, affirming Valarr’s position as second in line to the Iron Throne and reassuring house Targaryen’s standing in the realm.

In these few, precious days of peace and quiet, you had taken to taking walks through the kingswood with Valarr, taking afternoon tea with him and both your mothers, and sometimes, just leisurely sprawling upon the library cushions next to each other and flipping through the ancient, rare tomes together. On this specific day, you had intercepted Valarr just as he exited from the Small Council meeting, and demanded he take you on a walk through the inner courtyard’s gardens. Valarr, ever the sweet and dutiful prince, indulged your whims without a second thought.

So now you walked arm-in-arm with your betrothed between rows of beautiful flowering shrubs, with your guards trailing behind. The garden was quite lively, with numerous courtiers and nobles lounging under the pergolas or taking a leisurely walk themselves. 

Valarr’s company was quite enjoyable, since although he was your betrothed, he was one of the only conversation partners in the recent days who wouldn’t endlessly pester you about the wedding planning. Instead, he spoke to you about the flora and fauna on Dragonstone, and how they differed from those of the Crownlands, or about childhood misadventures of Matarys, or sometimes about the places he would have liked to travel to if he hadn’t been tied up at the Red Keep by his duties. He’d also ask you how your life had been in your ancestral home in the time where you hadn’t seen each other, and whether you missed anything from home.

The conversation flowed easily, as if the ten years spent apart had never happened. Although, the numerous chattering groups of courtiers around the garden were starting to irritate you, since you had hoped you would be able to spend some quiet, private moments with your betrothed. You were more than eager to continue where you had left off at the tourney grounds a few days past, when you’d been cruelly interrupted by your mothers. In the sunlight, Valarr’s handsome face was lit in a golden sheen, the arch of his lips drawing your gaze every time he spoke.

So you gently steered him towards the little hedge maze in the middle of the garden, your guards still dutifully following a few steps behind. I just want a little peck on his lips, away from the eyes of the courtiers, you prayed to the gods. It wouldn’t even be improper, since you were betrothed anyways, and even the late Septa Marya could not object to that. Your guards were there, and if any suspicions were to arise, they would testify that no scandalous incidents had occured.

“Let us sit by the fountain in the middle,” you suggested, “I would greatly appreciate some peace and quiet.”

To your delight, Valarr did not question you, and lead the way through the albeit little but still confusing paths. The center of the maze contained a small clearing with a stone fountain, with benches situated in a circle around it. It would be the ideal setting to set your plan into motion. While you were unfolding your schemes to extract him to a quiet corner, Valarr, your handsome, oblivious Val, was telling you the tale of how he and Matarys used to go fishing on the shores of Dragonstone a few years back. 

The little clearing was empty save for you and your guards, thank the gods. You picked out a bench in the sunlight to sit upon, as the guards stood a few yards away from you. You scooted closer to Valarr, admiring his eyes while he was still innocently chattering on.

“So you see, that is how Mat obtained that scar on his-“

“Val,” you gently interrupted him.

“Huh?” Valarr turned his head towards you, his eyes widening as he finally registered how close your faces were.

You gave him a small smile, and his cheeks flushed bright red, finally understanding why you had brought him there. His eyes flittered between your eyes and lips, his own lips parting slightly in anticipation. He looked so beautiful like this, with his hair gleaming in the sun and his pupils swallowing his mismatched irises. And when your heads were finally, finally inching closer -

something in the hedges moved, bustling the leaves, and let out an unmistakably human groan.

You shrieked, and jolted in your seat. The guards and Valarr stood at alarm, their eyes fixed at the bush where the noise had come from. The guards’ swords were unsheathed as they carefully approached the source. The hedge let out another groan, a little quieter this time.

Then, Valarr’s incredulous voice cut the tension. “Daeron? Is that you in there?”

Your confusion deepened.

An answer came from the shadows of branches and leaves. “Valarr? What-“

Valarr crossed the little clearing in swift, long strides, and crouched down to where the voice had come from. Then, he dragged out a humanoid figure out from the hedge by the scuff of its hood.

Your jaw was hanging open in disbelief as the cloaked man rolled to his back, revealing a head of dirty blond hair, and a pale, sickly looking face.

“How long have you been here, cousin?” Valarr asked, still crouching by his head. Oh. So that would be the famed perpetuously drunken cousin of his.

“‘Dunno, what day is it,” Daeron mumbled, obviously quite hungover. The stench of ale mixed with sweat reached your nose. Valarr only let out a sigh in response.

“Daeron, what have we said before? Three flagons of ale, at the most. And you were to summon guards to accompany you to your chambers if you are unable to reach it yourself.” There was no anger in his eyes, only a fond look of exasperation. 

“’Twas only three and a half, cousin. An’ I was just takin’ a quick nap- this place is too big.” Daeron groaned while an arm came up to shield his eyes from the unforgiving sun. 

Valarr patted his head, and instructed his guard to fetch some help carrying his cousin to his chambers. The guard hurried off, while Daeron’s head rolled in the grass.

“Think I’m dyin’, cus. ’S too bright here, I think-“ Daeron suppressed a gag.

“You’ll be fine, Daeron. ’Tis but a hangover. Maester Archibald will brew you some salted honey lemon tea, that fixes you right up most of the time.” Valarr wiped some sweat off of his cousin’s forehead, then looked up at you with what seemed like an apologetic look. 

Soon, the sounds of boots marching upon the grass rang through the hedge maze. The guards were here for Daeron, who was still sprawled on the ground. They picked him up by his hands and feet with practiced ease, as Valarr rose from where he was crouched, and returned to your side.

“I apologize in his behalf, love. I-“ Valarr scratched the back of his neck.

“’S no matter, Val.” You gave him a reassuring smile, Valarr’s cheeks blooming the most adorable shade of pink at that.

Your betrothed sighed, and looked down to the ground before he finally faced you again, offering you his arm.

“Shall we get back? I am sure my uncle would want to hear where his son has been. He has sent out a search party yesternight to all the taverns in and around the city, and it would certainly ease his.. irritation to know that he has been found.”

Pushing down the disappointment rising in your chest, you gingerly took his arm, and let him lead you out of the garden.

-

III. Interrupted by Ser Whiskers

Your third attempt was more spontaneous, and the idea bloomed whilst you were lounging upon an upholstered settee next to Valarr in the Targaryen’s private library in the Keep. The large, candlelit hall was almost empty aside from you and the two maesters silently reorganising the shelves at the other end of the room. The double doors to the library was wide open; a compromise so you two could spend some quiet moments with only the occupied maesters present to supervise the young couple.

By your insistance, Valarr was reading the early accounts of the rise of the Free Cities in Essos aloud, written hundreds of years ago in High Valyrian. Your back was propped up against an armrest, your legs comfortably folded under you while admiring the excellent view which Valarr provided.

You recalled how you always enjoyed his reading voice, even when you were mere children and he’d read to you from the old tomes of fairytales. Now a man grown, his soft, deep voice rolled through the high-ceilinged room, the rolled r’s and central high vowels of High Valyrian forming a soothing melody. High Valyrian had been included in your education as a child, as it was the case for most children of Lord Paramounts of the realm, but Valarr truly spoke it with a smooth fluency, which was a rare talent in Westeros.

“Zaldrīzāeksia valyrio grozilluni mīsagon, zōbria dōrosì gaomagis,” he read out.

The dragonlords built.. something black to protect the Valyrian borders. You frowned, not recalling the meaning of dōrosì. Like countless other vocabularies, it was flickering at the edge of your memories, just out of your mind’s reach. 

“What does dōrosì mean again, Val?” You asked, hoping Valarr wouldn’t mind you interrupting his reading with the umpteenth inquiry on the meaning of an obscure Valyrian word. 

“Walls,” he answered patiently. “The dragonlords built the Black Walls to guard the borders of Valyria.” Oh, that made sense.

You huffed in frustration. “I’ve forgotten so much of the language, perhaps I should have paid more attention during my lessons.” You crossed your arms, and pouted. 

He was the image of the perfect crown prince, skilled in arms and highly learned on the matters of governance, history, and languages. In contrast, you were just.. you. The eyes of the court had always been unforgiving, and the fear of any displays of imperfection or inadequacy loomed over you like a thundercloud. The eyes of highborn lords and ladies had turned cold and observing once the betrothal had been announced and the wedding preparations had begun, save for a few kind ones who remained. 

“You are already more than proficient, love,” Valarr mused, closing the book shut and scooting closer to you on the armchair. 

"Lies. Blatant lies," you huffed out, furrowing your brows. To your infuriation, it only made Valarr let out a quiet laugh. 

"Do you accuse me of lies, dearest? A crown prince of the realm?" He scooted even closer, prying your hand into his own, amusement clear in his eyes. 

"Yes, and what of it? It is not as if you'd try me for treason," your pout persisted. 

"I'd never," Valarr breathed out, and planted a chaste kiss on your knuckles. "I could absolutely never, love. And you do not have to hold yourself to such high standards. You're already everything I could dream of, and more. You've always been."

"But the court will say-" you protested. 

"The court can go fuck themselves if they have any objections." Valarr said matter-of-factly. 

Your eyebrows rose at the crass language. Your sweet, gentle Valarr was otherwise so soft-spoken. In the background, the maesters flinched at the seldom swear word falling from the young prince's lips. 

"I do not care what they say. I have listened to them dutifully and patiently over many years, however wise or foolish their advices were," Valarr continued, his tone cool and steady. "But this, us, is something I will not tolerate any asinine comments about. If they spread vile words on your adequacy as my future bride, as their future queen, I will have them tried for treason."

Oh, Valarr. Your Valarr. Your beautiful, kind, perfect, valiant Valarr. 

"Perhaps love is making you foolish," you breathed out. 

"Perhaps, but I find that I do not care about that either." Valarr leaned towards you, his eyes flittering between your eyes and lips. As though pulled by some invisible force, you tilted your face towards him as well. 

You felt his breath and the heat radiating off his body on your lips. Your heartbeat was thundering in your ears, and you briefly wondered if he could hear it too. Finally, the sweet, sweet kiss you had been waiting f-

your train of thought was rudely interrupted by a very small, fluffy, orange figure sprinting through the double doors of the library, jumping onto the very settee you and Valarr were sitting on, and fleeting across your laps to climb onto the bookcase situated next to you. 

You and Valarr looked at each other in stunned silence, the tension in the room replaced by the perplexity on what had just happened. The maesters were looking up from the dusty tomes as well, as the peace and tranquility of their workplace was under threat by some unidentified creature. 

Then, as if to explain the situation, a small shock of silver-gold hair burst into the room, proceeded by the pitter-patter of his boots on the stone floor. 

"No, Ser Whiskers! Bad Cat! That's not a room for pets! C'mere, ser!" Egg called out, rushing to the bottom of the bookcase upon which his cat was perched. He pleaded, but the cat seemed indifferent to the distress of the other inhabitants of the library. 

"Hello, Egg," Valarr greeted calmly, having regained his composure and re-established a respectful distance between your body and his. 

"Hello cousin, my lady," Egg replied, eyes still firmly trained on Ser Whiskers, his hands reaching out for the cat who still showed no sign of obedience. "Ser Whiskers will not come down, could you give me a hand?" Indeed, his small stature wouldn't allow his hands to reach the cat's perch. 

Valarr got up from the settee, a fond smile on his lips despite the disappointment blooming in his chest. He approached the cat calmly, and extended his hand to carefully test the waters. His arms were just long enough to reach Ser Whiskers comfortably. 

The orange cat inspected the man in front of him with a skeptical look, unmoving as Valarr cooed soothing words to it and patiently waited. Finally, Ser Whiskers yawned, and relaxed his posture. Taking it as a reluctant acceptance, Valarr gently scooped it up in his hands, and whispered a polite thank you to the cat before handing it to Egg. 

Egg was delighted to hold the cat back in his arms, and enthusiastically shouted his thanks to Valarr. 

"Ser Whiskers, you must not enter this room again, it is not for cats." The little prince scolded the cat, though the effect was minimized by his fond smile. 

"Ser Whiskers? Is your cat a knight, Prince Egg?" You mused, raising an eyebrow at the cat's title. 

At the inquiry to his cat's name, Egg's eyes lit up in joy. "Yes! I had Daeron knight him, he is the best cat at catching rats, and he can be quite fearsome." He explained, making you giggle at the mental imagery of his perpetually drunken brother knighting a very fluffy orange cat. 

"Anyway, I better be going now. My father would be quite cross if he'd heard that Ser Whiskers made it into the family's library." Egg said, turning to the doors with his cat still held in his arms. "Goodbye cousin, my lady," and he was off. 

Valarr sat back down at your side, picking the book back up and placing it on his lap. When your eyes met, he let out an exasperated smile. The tension in the room had left, leaving the atmosphere feeling like a deflated balloon. 

"This is getting ridiculous, love." Valarr shook his head lightly. 

Indeed it was. Who would've thought that sneaking a private little kiss would be faced with such obstacles? 

-

IV. The one time it worked out

The night air was cool on your cheeks as you strolled through the open corridors of the Red Keep, overlooking the main courtyard. All the wedding preparations were getting to you, the incessant viewings of fabric for your dress, your veil, your maiden's cloak, then came the choice of tablecloth, draperies, and cloth napkins. Your mother and Lady Jena were kind enough to be present at every step, offering their experienced expertise when it came to organizing feasts. Though you were not ungrateful for their assistance and support, the lack of any kind of quiet time for yourself was becoming suffocating. 

By the morrows, seamstresses measured every inch of your body, holding up various fabrics against your body and comparing the way they complemented your skin. In the afternoons, there were lessons on history of house Targaryen and their customs, as though you had not learned them several times over in your childhood. And as if these lessons were not tortuous enough, new septas were assigned to you to instruct you on the matters of marriage and your duty to your husband. By evenfall, you felt as though you'd been thoroughly nitpicked, observed under a magnifying glass, and talked about as if your body was merely a piece of meat. 

As a form of protest, you insisted on taking a stroll around the Keep, with only one of your household guards to chaperone you. As always, he kept his distance, but his constant, surveilling gaze pinpricked the back of your neck. You stubbornly ignored his presence, and convinced yourself to enjoy the little bit of peace you had garnered yourself. 

As you turned a sharp corner, you slammed face-first into a much broader, firmer chest than your own. As you yelped and stumbled backwards, a pair of rough, but warm hands steadied you by your arms. Your gaze trailed upwards, irritation threatening to boil over after the last straw that had just been pulled. But when you identified who it was that was standing before you, your temper melted away like snow under the spring sun. Your guard, who had sprung into attention, relaxed as well upon recognising his face. 

"Good evening, love." Valarr's face was lit with the warm fires of braziers, the sharp lines of his face lit in a yellow gold sheen, while the cloudy, moonless night sky painted dark blue shadows. His eyes were slightly sunken from his own exhaustion, no doubt only now having left the council chambers after a grueling day.

"Good evening, Val." Your face split into a grin; he truly was a sight for sore eyes after an exhausting day. 

"Should you be out of your chambers at this hour?" He cocked an eyebrow, but there was no apprehension in his tone, only a slight tease. 

"Should you, your grace?" Your grin widened, as you were aware of how uncomfortable Valarr got when you called him by his title. Valarr shook his head, but he failed to suppress a small smile creeping up at your teasing tone. 

"Come, if you are to be out and about at this hour, at least let me escort you." The excuse was so blatant that you had to resist from snorting out a laugh. You were in the Red Keep after all, and the countless guards stationed at near all corridors were more than enough protection. Nevertheless, you eagerly took his arm, and kept walking the way you were initially headed in. 

Your guards exchanged looks, but held their tongue, and began to follow you some paces behind.  Valarr's body heat was quite pleasant in the cool evening air, his arm a solid anchor for your exhausted mind. 

“How are the preparations treating you, love?” He asked, the term of affection falling freely from his lips, as though it was the most natural thing. 

“Poorly, if I am to be frank,” you sighed. “Although, I must admit that there are crueler fates in this world. I am only whinging about insignificant problems, the coddled highborn lady I am.”

“You’re not simply whinging,” Valarr protested. “The few months before a wedding are always grueling for anybody.” 

“Could be so,” you huffed. “Sometimes, I just wish for a few moments of solitude, you know. Some peace and quiet. It seems ages ago that we’ve had any quiet moments to ourselves, Val.”

Valarr hummed, and looked as though he was weighing something in his mind. After a few moments, he stopped in his tracks, and looked back to the guards.

“The lady and I do not have further need of you, sers. You are dismissed for the evening.” His voice was soft, yet carried an air of authority.

“My prince, I fear that would be unadvisable. To leave you to walk alone at this hour-“ His guard stuttered out.

“I am more than capable of protecting her and myself. If it is improperness that worries you so, I fear your concerns would be for naught as well. Do you truly believe I would dishonor my betrothed in these open corridors, where there are guards posted every few yards?” Valarr interrupted, his voice remaining calm and steady.

“No, my prince.” The guard lowered his gaze.

“Then do us a kindness, and relieve yourselves of your duties for the night. I will see her escorted to her chambers unharmed, and with her honor intact.” His tone was final.

You raised your eyebrows at your soft-spoken, dutiful prince using his authority for his own gain. This was highly irregular, and amused you to no end. You suppressed a giggle as the guards walked away, your shoulders shaking slightly.

“Have I said something amusing?” Valarr asked as you started walking again, his eyes twinkling under the torchlight and the corner of his lips tugging into a smile. 

“Nothing, my gracious prince,” you teased, “I just appreciate having you all to myself now.”

Your steps carried you to the entrance to the godswood at the heart of the Keep. The guards at the gate bowed at the sight of Valarr, and let you through without question.

"Ser Meron, Ser Willam, if I hear of any whispers on this, I shall know it came from you. You are not to speak of our presence here to a single soul." Valarr calmly ordered the guards. The guards tensed at being addressed to by their names by the prince, but sternly nodded in agreement.

The godswood took up a whole acre of space, and its existence, placed dead center of the castle always fascinated you.

“These woods seemed to stretch out endlessly when I was little,” you breathed out. “Always felt as if it was a whole, separate world inside of the Keep.”

“It sort of is,” Valarr replied. “I still remember the games we used to play, and the stories we used to read together. Here, I did not have to think of future duties, nor of my position as a crown prince. It was just the two of us.” His eyes seemed to look into the distance, as if recalling the little boy back then, who had been carrying the weight of his inheritance ever since he could speak in full sentences. 

“To be frank, it was mostly you reading to me, while I pestered you to reread my favourites for the fiftieth time”, you laughed, leaning against his shoulder as you walked. 

“I didn’t mind, love. I never did. Would have read them to you hundred times over, even back then.” Valarr stated, as though it was a mere fact. Then, he came to a stop in front of the heart tree, a nostalgic look in his face.

You heart stuttered at that. Your eyes found his, and he turned his head to meet your gaze. The godswood was only lit faintly by the moon, which had finally peaked its face out from behind the clouds. Valarr let go of your arm to stand before you, brushing out a rogue strand of hair out of your face, and tucking it behind your ear. You reached for his hand, his right hand, before he could drop it back to his side. You gingerly held his hand in your own, and placed a soft kiss on his palm. At that, his body went rigid.

Turning his hand over to inspect the children’s sized signet ring on his little finger, you smiled fondly at the memory of the day you’d gifted it to him all these years ago. Your thumb traced your family’s sigil upon it mindlessly as you looked up at his face.

“I ought to get you another one of these, this is just far too small now.” You murmured.

“I’m keeping this one, dearest. It’s from you.” 

“Well, at least let the goldsmith resize it for you. Then, you may be able to wear it on your middle or pointer finger again.” You compromised, his hand still firmly in your hold.

“As you wish, my love.” Valarr breathed out, closing the distance between your bodies, and slipping his hand out of your grasp to gently cup your face.

You were transfixed by Valarr’s mismatched eyes staring straight through your soul, his lips slightly parted in anticipation. As he leaned down to finally, finally close the distance, your eyes fluttered shut and you brought your hands up to rest on his broad chest. 

When his plush lips finally met yours, the initial contact sent an electric buzz down your entire body. Your lips moved clumsily against each other, and you felt Valarr’s hand on your jaw tremble slightly, as though he was afraid to somehow break the divinity of the moment with a too rash touch of his hand. As you pushed your body even closer against his, his free hand came to rest on the small of your back, gently pulling you impossibly closer against himself. Your breaths mixed with one another, your head spinning from either the lack of air or the intoxicating touch of his lips.

As your lips reluctantly parted from each other, you let out a quiet, giddy laugh. Valarr rested his forehead against yours, his breath lightly brushing against your skin. 

“Gods, finally,” you giggled, cheeks flushed and your chest heaving.

Valarr let out a small laugh at that, and pressed a kiss onto your forehead. “I love you,” he whispered, as though he was saying a prayer.

“I love you too, Val. In case that was not clear.” You leaned back to look up at him, flashing him a bright smile. He pulled you into another kiss at your confession, with only the heart tree and the moon peeking from between the clouds as witness.

-

Notes: here's a snippet about my favourite couple to write about! Thank you all for the love for the main fic, every single reblog and comment warmed my heart so so dearly🥰