And So It Begins
valarr targaryen x afab!reader
based on this idea! a big thank you to @bornasfools for letting me cook — also the photos are not mine, credits to the owners <3
part 3 of ? first part / second part
warnings: valarr gets jealous and finally snaps, some deception in the relationship, reader is conflicted between duty and desire, kiera x daeron actually have a good relationship despite his alcohol issues, reader is a baddie but she gets shy from compliments of men (same girl), slight mentions of blood magic/alchemy, outfit description, SMUTTT MINORS DNI
taglist: @outpostsworld
a/n: I know I said possible slowburn but hahaha… also I had way too much fun writing this chapter, I love having the free will to do what I want. a little longer than my usual but nevertheless I hope you enjoy. I have been insanely overwhelmed and blessed by all the likes, comments, follows, and repost, thank you so much everyone!
┊ ➶ ｡˚ °
The danger of your feelings slipping through the cracks started almost half a year since you had a place at the royal court during a visit to Highgarden, where House Tyrell reigned as leige lords in the Reach, to attend their annual spring ball.
It was the first time you would travel to attend a celebration since you assumed a position at the royal court. Kiera had never been before either and had spared no details in enlightening you, telling you of all the things she heard about the castle seemed to bloom flowers throughout all the seasons. After House Lannister, House Tyrell was the richest noble house in the Seven Kingdoms so the parties held in Highgarden were of the upmost luxury.
“It will be so exciting,” She beamed as the two of you took a walk through the royal gardens, soft pink hair tumbling down her shoulders in beautiful curls. “We can come up with a theme together and piece together our costumes to match. Maybe you will get to show off your hair.”
“My hair?” You seemed amused at the mere excitement of something you were used to seeing in the privacy of your bedchambers — at dawn and dusk every day.
“You always cover it behind those head coverings and veils,” She nodded to the lilac one you wore today lined with gold bangles. “I know it is customary with your sisterhood faction but I can’t help but wonder what your silver-gold hair would look like under the glowing light in the ballroom.”
You couldn’t help but laugh. It was nice to be with Kiera — you felt like a girl who could be merry with her life and worry about the simpler things. You had pieces of that in The Sisterhood but there was always this high purpose of serving the prophecy of Azor Ahai that was always a lingering tension between every action and conversation. And a small, selfish part of you did not want to go back to that life. You wondered if that had anything to do with the luxury you were living: would you be saying the same things if you lived among merchants in King’s Landing? Most likely not if you were a peasant from Flea Bottom. “Why don’t we focus on your hair, My Lady? Don’t you want to your lord husband to abandon his wine cup at the mere sight of you in all your glory?”
“He already will. He had promised me,” Kiera affirmed, a smile on her lips while her dark brown eyes shined with a sense of mirth. “I did promise a passionate night of love-making if he did not drink the whole night but that is beside the point.”
You grunted, squinted your eyes shut. “I did not need that kind of imagery in my head.”
“Do not be jealous.”
“I am not jealous.”
“Are you sure?” Kiera looked at you. “Are you going to deny that you do not want a certain affections of a particular prince at the festivities?”
You coughed suddenly, as if the air slipped from your lips and you had briefly choked on your spit. You patted your chest rapidly before looking to her with the
She raises her eyebrows, unbothered. “The Young Prince spends more time with you these days than his own father. That alone speaks for itself.”
It’s not like you could deny her. By this point everyone at the royal court knew of how often Valarr spent time with you. It seemed like, despite the occasional whispers and rumors, associating with the Heir’s heir gave you a sense of protection. But that could also be the fact that the royal family has grown to trust you as time has passed since you stepped in to interfere. You weren’t followed everywhere heavily guarded anymore and you even visited Myriah from time to time at her request in her little court in the Queen’s Ballroom where she and all the women of the royal family, along with their ladies-in-waiting, chatted and sipped tea while also working on embroidery pieces. You had cemented your life here in the inner circle as The Sisterhood had wanted and the Head Lady had instructed.
And even after everything, you still had failed a crucial part of the mission: seduction.
It wasn’t like you haven’t tried. There would be nights where you would dress yourself in a way that called eyes to you and summon Valarr to your bedchambers to share wine by the hearth in the fire — with the initial attempt to get him to bed you like The Sisterhood had wanted. But then something always happened, a book would fall on a floor, a servant would burst into the room only to squeak her apologies profusely at the sight reserved for privacy, or even an attendant was sent asking for the Young Prince, and then you knew you had back off. Cowardly or Honorable, you still weren’t sure.
After he left, politely kissing your hand like the gentleman he was even when you weren’t officially a highborn by Westerosi standards, you laid in bed at night absolutely wracked with guilt. Manipulating the game is what you trained to do and yet with Valarr. You also worried he would never talk to you but if he picked up on something he never mentioned. He would just see you later that week and acted like he always did, an apprentice with questions once more, and the two of you never spoke of what almost happened.
So maybe he just wasn’t attracted to you.
Yet your body was in no doubt attracted to him for every time you smelled the prince’s mouthwatering scent of jasmine and pine you had inwardly chide at yourself to calm down instead of pushing against the nearest wall and kissing him breathless. You also woken up on more than one occasions with a particular sense of heat between your legs after dreaming of the heir’s heir taking you on a silken bed — rolling his hips against your sweaty skin while a fire gleamed in his eyes as you made long, delicious markings down his naked and toned back. It was getting to a point where you were almost embarrassed on how you, and your body, was acting. Who knew you would be so easily swayed by a gentlemanly prince with a handsome face?
But it also didn’t stop there — he also was stubbornly climbing his way into your heart. He stayed resilient, honest, forthright, and so goddamn charming through everything that he made you feel things: powerful things. And that terrified you more than anything else.
You know what the sisters would tell you if they ever heard what you were saying. Duty above all, they would remind you. Do not be weak to cave to your desires. Azor Ahai is our upmost priority. So you repeated those things like a mantra in your mind whenever you felt yourself slipping to close to the line of boundaries where you would snap.
You could tell the Head Lady was getting frustrated with your lack of progress in her letters. She demanded updates and you were running out of excuses — and time. It would not be long before she sent a messenger demanding what was going on at present or demand you leave. Maybe she would even kill you? You hoped that last train of thought was merely a vivid speculation of your own imagination. You had enough friends, allies even, in The Sisterhood.
Right?
Your heavy train of thought is cut off by a gentle hand on your own. You hear Kiera’s soft voice.
“Are you alright? I did not wish to upset you.”
You shake it off quickly, patting her hand back as you force a smile. “I am alright. It seems the heat is getting to me — that is all.”
She remains unconvinced but says nothing as you change the topic at hand:
“If you want to match, what theme did you want to choose?”
┊ ➶ ｡˚ °
Planning for such a fun event takes up more time than you realize.
While you offer ideas and input it is ultimately Kiera coming up with the costumes after realizing she had a little more availability than yourself — and she seemed more than pleased to do so. She also offered to have dresses made for the both of you using the silks she had gotten from Lys as well as ornaments from Myrish, embracing At first you refused as some of it were gifts from her family. However, the Tyroshi noble looked so crushed that you ended up relenting in the end. She was knew what she was doing of course — Kiera could be a cute little sly fox in sheep’s clothing when she really, really wanted something.
She was charming that way.
The journey to Highgarden ended up being a little longer than Ashford but it seemed significantly more enjoyable, at least on your end. The last time you were in the Reach you were navigating your footing on foreign land among people who did not trust you entirely. Not yet. Now you felt more confident about your life in the Seven Kingdoms as well as the people you were with, for the most part at least. You had become close and comfortable with your strawberry-roan courser by then and had even given her a name: Summer Rose. When the royal family, and their entourage, finally arrived to the land of the liege lords in the Reach what bestowed before you held you in quite a shock.
A beautiful land worthy of enriching storytelling.
Endless green fields stretched on as far as you could see on the Roseroad into the capital with bountiful produce that seemed to shine under the beaming sun in the all blue sky. The colors were so vibrant: everything seemed full of life and like a spitting image of the fairytales some of you and the other trainees in The Sisterhood would read on your beds late at night when everyone was supposed to be asleep. Butterflies of all kinds of shapes seemed flutter across every trace of land in this area of the Reach and small animals bustled across growing farmland to peek their little heads over small bushes in order to look at all the guests that were arriving this time of the year.
And the home of House Tyrell was breathtaking.
Mazes of tall gardens wrapped the beautiful castle of gleaming white marble like an extra layer of protection and sense of beauty. It was warm — warmer than King’s Landing — and so the thicker fabrics of those in the royal caravan were shed to wear lighter, more flowing pieces of dress with thinner fabric at hand. The women at the court in Highgarden also displayed more low-cut, backless dresses that showed off their airbrushed skin — smiling charmingly behind lacy fans while their elegantly coiffed hair was threaded with shimmering gold fabric, flowers, and glinting beaded jewelry.
Once Lord Tyrell joyously greeted House Targaryen, and the formalities of introductions were underway, everyone was able to steer off to their visiting chambers to unpack and rest for the day before they underwent the chaos of the festivities later that week. After taking a bath and changing into fresh clothes you met Kiera by her private bedchambers, which were conveniently close to yours, so the two of you could explore the beautiful castle along with its massive garden. And then, after checking out all the fountains and cluster of flowers in each section of the both the two of you ran into a predicament: you got lost.
Naturally.
“Maybe we should have taken a guard with us,” You mused as Kiera led the both of you in a circle once more. “Or one of your ladies. Or all of them.”
The Tyroshi girl did little to argue with you, only seeming to sigh at the sign of the sun dipping lower in the sky and casting hues of purples, pinks, and red. “We are going to be late for dinner. Do you think we could find a guard from House Tyrell to lead us back?”
Luckily, the two of you didn’t need to comb far for help at hand. As if the gods heard you a clear voice called on the other end of the courtyard.
“Ladies — are you lost?”
One of Lord Tyrell’s sons came walking toward the both of you, graced and poised as his stylish green and gold seemed to shine under the sunlight. His curly brown hair was short and seemed to frame his heart-shaped face with a strong nose and high cheekbones. You remember him from this morning — he had made some of the ladies-in-waitings blush and giggle after he charmingly kissed their hands and even winked at you in passing, despite the fact that you were more in the back with the attendants. He seemed like a noble who was honorable enough, only with a flirty edge.
A little too flirty for your liking.
He bowed to Kiera, who tipped her head politely, while you made a quick curtesy. “Forgive us, Ser. We wanted to explore these gardens and seemed to have lost our way. Do you mind having sending someone to show us where the Great Hall is so we can spare House Targaryen’s reputation of being poorly-timed guests?”
“I have a better offer,” He added, chin angled up high as he clasped a hand on the chest of his richly embroidered doublet. “I can take you there myself.”
You dipped your head. “We wouldn’t want to impose on your current activities.”
“Nonsense,” He waved your concerns off with a simple wave of his hand. “Rescuing two women from the luxuries of my family’s gardens is the kind of thing. Two very beautiful women in fact.”
Kiera smiled courteously, looked amused at your particular expression when you rolled your eyes at his turned back. “Follow me, Ladies,” He called over his shoulder.
While he initially acted a little insufferable Boras Tyrell, as he introduced himself on the journey back, had redeemed himself on the walk into the castle and eventually, to the Great Hall. He was respectful of the fact that Kiera was married and very much a dutiful wife, their conversation more of friendly banter than. As for you, well, if he knew you weren’t a highborn he spoke little of it. He actually treated you like a person he hung out with and barely seemed to lift his eyes when he pieced together who you were.
“So you revived Baelor Targaryen with blood magic?” He said aloud, struggling to overcome his shock as the two of you entered the Great Hall in conversation, the loud sound of clinking metal and large crowds of people talking as they gathered to eat. “That is impressive.”
“Not to all,” You admitted aloud honestly. “They call me the Valyrian Witch at the royal court and for awhile were not too happy at my existence.”
“Why not? Any use of magic and alchemy is impressive.”
You turned to him in light surprise, as he looked confused at the weight of your stare.
“What?”
“Forgive me, My Lord,” You looked away, quickly clearing your throat as you tried to shake off your visible emotion. “I assumed you practice the Faith of the Seven.”
“I do.”
“So you don’t find my ways immoral or evil?”
“I’m a man of faith, not a religious zealot.” He bumped your shoulder teasingly, causing you to freeze briefly from the casual use of contact. “And you don’t need to call me, My Lord. You can use my name as I wish to use yours.”
“If you wish it…” You hesitated, causing him to lift his eyebrow. “Boras.”
The third-born son of House Tyrell grinned brightly, his dazzling smile seeming to send rays of sunshine across the richly decorated room. He then grabbed your arm before tugging on it eagerly. “Come sit with me. I want to hear more of this.”
You looked over at Kiera, watching all of this with a shit-eating grin on her face. Fuck. She was definitely going to give you a hard time when the two of you were alone again. “Is that alright, My Lady?”
“Go on, lovebirds,” She waved her hands in a shooing matter, dark brown eyes twinkling merrily before she tucked a pale pink curl behind her ear. “I need to check on my lord husband anyway. Make sure he doesn’t spoil himself on all that Arbor gold wine.”
“Give him my best regards,” Boras added merrily before walking off, pulling you along with him before you can properly protest. The two of you sit towards the front by the head table where House Targaryen and House Tyrell have joined but find spots a few seats below with some of the other nobles. When you ask him why, the man shrugs and claims that he prefers the company of the ones who serve his family because they feel more authentic and real. You comply, seeing it as reason enough.
The two of you eat dinner together as he introduces you to some of his friends of noble blood, who nod their heads to you politely enough, while he asks you questions about The Sisterhood and Old Valyria. He seems genuinely enraptured with what you have to say as the both of you find yourself in a deep conversation as you help yourself to the endless food full of all kinds of delicious food and wine at that table.
The only problem is the burning holes you feel on the back of your head the whole night.
When you finally leave the Great Hall for the night with Boras offering to escort you back to your chambers with his arm like a proper gentleman, the last thing you see in that massive room is the heated gaze of Valarr’s intense stare: expertly cutting his food without glancing down and lifting his goblet to drink the wine as he never took his eyes off you — his expression taking that hauntingly attractive yet absolutely unreadable nature once more.
┊ ➶ ｡˚ °
The day of the spring ball, everyone bustling in their rooms to get ready as they were dressed and out the final touches on their outfits, you were able to be convinced to forgo your usual head coverings so your silver-gold hair could be properly styled.
“Just this once,” You said offhandedly as Kiera started brushing your hair with a sense of excitement, taking on the task of personally styling your hair while her ladies worked on hers. “I haven’t been to a ball before so it is only fair that a little fun is ensued.”
The pink-haired beauty leaned over your shoulder to press her cheek sweetly against yours, clasping both of your shoulders with her hands, the golden ring glimmering under the soft candlelight. “You will not regret it.”
In the end she did a wonderful job — not just with the hair, which was a beautiful interwoven style of braids and flowing tendrils, but also the costumes themselves. The two of you went as the sun and moon, gleaming hues of gold and silver respectively, and she had led the charge on creative choices so phenomenally that you couldn’t help but feel breathless at the sight of yourself in the polished mirror carved with ornate roses in her private bedchambers.
Wrapped in silver silks, midnight blues embroidered with constellations of the night sky, elaborate headpieces that sparkled with the different aspects of the nightfall, and the variety of jewels glittering among the silver jewelry you were generously given, you had felt yourself at a loss for words as you examined you reflection in the mirror. Kiera stood off to the side with her bejeweled hands clasped happily to her mouth — looking equally as stunning in stunning hues of gold dipped into red and orange, embroidery of suns with a dragon’s outline flying across her waistline while her elegantly coiffed updo is framed by a spiky gold headdress that reflects the traveling light of the rays on the sun while sparkling gold flecks are dusted on her cheeks and eyelids.
“You look absolutely beautiful.”
“So do you,” You reach out to link arms with her as the two of you take a moment to revel at your reflections. “You did a wonderful job, Kiera. Thank you — truly.”
The noble woman beamed at you. “I just wanted to show you that true beauty shines no matter where you are from. And tonight, every highborn at the ball will turn their heads and never forget this.”
She was not wrong. As the two of you descended down the stares you felt whenever the both of you walked past were long and heavy. You weren’t sure if it was the hair or the costumes but you tried not to think on it.
Daeron and Valarr had decided to meet the two just outside the doors leading into a massive courtyard where the ball would be held, the latter politely offering himself as an escort so you would not have to enter alone with the married couple. Ever since the interaction with Boras earlier that week, and the son of Lord Tyrell taking most of your time to show you different parts of Highgarden, the Young Prince had seemed distant. Never impolite but definitely more internal and reserved than usual. He kept his conversations with you brief and he seemed like he had so much on his mind that when Boras materialized during gatherings in the garden or after breakfast fast to pull you away Valarr almost seemed relieved that you were leaving.
However, as the two of you approach them, the Heir’s heir is absolutely shocked at the sight of you: stunned beyond words as he simply freezes at the sight of all your rarity, glowing under the light in the warmly toned castle. Daeron seemed just as starstruck, taking in the sight of his wife as she walked over to him holding her skirts, beaming like the angel she was.
“By the Gods, My Love, just take me right here.”
Kiera reached out to swat his arm, though she seemed pleased by his response that reflected pure awe, while you to try, and fail, in holding back a laugh at the sight of the prince attempting to move away from her physical berating. Valarr broke from his stunned trance and cleared his throat. You turn to look at him as he finally said your name, soft and awestruck.
“You look simply radiant.”
You felt your cheeks flush at his sincere compliment, tipping your head as your internally chided yourself for acting so flabbergasted by the compliments of a prince so easily. Even if it was Valarr. “Thank you, My Prince. You are also a sight to behold before sore eyes.”
And he was. Foregoing his usual house colors for white and purple, the latter bringing out the mesmerizing color in his left eye, he had black dragons richly embroidered across his tunic while his cropped dark hair seemed to curl in waves under a bejeweled circlet that made him seem almost otherworldly. Paired with a velvet shoulder wrap of rich wine and polished boots that shined as if they were crafted just this morning, he was mesmerizing to look at alone. Yet a dazzling smile ghosted his lips as if he had never heard this before as he extended an arm out to you, which you accepted. The two of you followed an excited Kiera and amused Daeron outside, wondering what the night would hold.
Despite the sun having set hours ago, the air outside was warm and refreshing, a light breeze allowing. The courtyard among the maze of gardens outside Highgarden, which was decorated for the ball, was full of light and magic. Fireflies fluttered around in the air to fill the outside air with light along with the gleaming bronze braziers lining the edge of the large white cobblestone floor. A grand fountain stood in the middle of Ser Alester, the ancestor of House Tyrell, and from the top of his head across to the balcony’s edge that overlooked the main courtyard were beautiful streams of flowers, silken ribbon, and crafted work of all shapes and sizes.
Nobles milled about on the floor, dressed in colorful clothes with all kind of lavish adornments and ornaments. A band of musicians were playing a merry tune by the table of the biggest array of food you had ever seen in your life while the attendants of House Tyrell milled about to refill golden wine chalices with a mere gesture of hands. The sight was stunning and it took you a moment to stop reveling at the scenery before you and collect yourself with the proper sense of decorum that was always expected at Westeros.
The four of you had made your way to the food table, everyone turning to greet the members of the royal family with a sense of flattery you were used to hearing constantly. However, you all had barely eaten some sweets and gotten some fresh goblets of wine when you heard a clear voice calling your name.
Boras appeared by your side as he greeted everyone with the proper formalities, beaming and dressed in revelry of pale green that was embroidered with golden leaves that match the earrings glinting under the firelight buzzing a few mere feet above your heads. You foolishly fail to see the smile slip from Valarr’s lips as he stiffens at the sight of the Tyrell noble as you politely smile at him in greeting.
“Boras.”
“My Lady,” He nearly gasps as he turns to loook at you, taking your right hand as he brings it up to his lips. “You are a marvelous sight to behold at this party.”
You shift awkwardly at his dramatic declaration, though you bow with a courteous manner while Kiera watches with a bemused expression, noticing Daeron gives Valarr a quick look over his shoulder. “Thank you. You are quite the picture yourself.”
“You flatter me,” He smiled charmingly, linking arms with you before looking at the other three. “Mind if I steal her for a dance?”
He stared down at Valarr in particular, an eyebrow raised. What the fuck.
The Targaryen prince does not cave into the chiding remark and look, although something shifts in his gaze. “That is of her choosing rather than mine.”
The son of Lord Tyrell gives you a pleading look, causing you to sigh.
“One dance.”
“You won’t regret it!”
As much as you didn’t mind his company you can’t help but find that you do, feeling a pair of eyes burn the back of your head once more.
┊ ➶ ｡˚ °
He ended up dancing with you for much longer than he promised.
The night is beautiful with the sense of music, trickling of water sparkling under the moonlight, and laughter filling the air as the benefits of remaining apart of the royal court truly began to shine on days like these.
Regardless of Boras’s hovering you were enjoying yourself, though you couldn’t help but feel relieved when a familiar figure appeared behind the Tyrell boy, tapping his shoulder smoothly as throngs of bodies dressed in the absolute finery swirled around you to the beat of a cheery tune full of laughter and smiles.
“I would like to dance with the lady, if it is all the same to you.”
A flash of irritation pricks Boras’s eyes but as bold as he is, he is also wise enough not to challenge a man of royal blood and the Heir’s heir at that. So he tips his head and steps back, allowing Valarr to assume his place. Your heart can’t help but flutter as the two of you assume the position, shivering lightly as his lightly calloused fingers ghost against the curve of your back, while his other hand is interlaced with your own.
Soon, the silence is broken by the Targaryen’s observation.
“He seems quite taken with you.”
You look up at Valarr as he moves you around to the beat of the music. “You think so?”
“I know a besotted man of little virtue when I see one.”
A smile curved your lips despite the even expression on the Young Prince’s face. “Little virtue? You must not like Ser Boras, My Prince.”
He seemed to pout slightly at your use of formalities for him, breaking his serious expression. “I thought I told you to call me Valarr.”
“I simply wanted to address you properly before your people.”
“We are talking in High Valyrian — no one can understand us.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Except your family.”
“Oh forget them,” The Heir’s heir exhaled rather dramatically, looking so charmingly boyish that it caused you to chuckle in spite of yourself. “Who cares?”
“You seem unlike yourself, Valarr. Almost like you are jealous at the attention every lady has been receiving from the third-born son of Lord Tyrell.”
“Not with every lady,” His beautiful two-toned eyes connect with you, the hand at your waist gripping the thin silken layers with a tighter grasp than usual. “Just one.”
┊ ➶ ｡˚ °
The night ended with Kiera getting drunk, funnily enough.
It took everything in you not to die laughing as you help her into Daeron’s arms, watching him grumble crankily about how he had touched not one drop of and yet she was too wasted to honor her end of the bargain.
“Now you know how it feels,” You found yourself teasing, the prince giving you a look as his wife wrapped her arms around him, face pressed against his neck as she tried (and failed) to stifle her giggles.
After you got to the point where the one they call the Drunken was waving you off, saying he would be fine taking care of Kiera from here, you decided to take a walk through the gardens once more as the ball begins to fade along with the firelight’s glow, well past the Hour of the Wolf.
A sudden desire is felt to feel the soft grass on your skin so in the shadows behind a tall, amassing bush that was elegantly cleaned and polished you stripped off your stockings and pulled off your shoes. You can’t help but exhale in relief at the cold feeling of the ground on your skin: it was such
As you walked quietly through the royal gardens, you found your mind traveling to the beautiful night. Especially the Young Prince’s subtle confession.
You remember how much it shocked you then, needing a moment to process before the tune changed and your interlocked gaze was interrupted by a noble lady from House Lannister asking if she could steal a dance from the prince. You forgot in moments like those how vied after he was — both politically and physically — since unlike Boras, Valarr did very little to play with the affections of ladies who sought after him, though he was never impolite.
Naturally, it only made him more attractive.
You sighed, torn once more as you strayed from a path to walk towards a darkened veranda overlooking the endless farms and beautiful source of provisions House Tyrell profited so highly from. After spending so much time with these people, these wonderfully lovely people despite their high-rank and class that gave them every reason to be snobbish and rude, you felt like your calculative edge was slipping. It was hard to accept though you wouldn’t trade the memories for anything.
And then you see him.
Standing alone on an elegantly carved balcony overlooking the Reach, a wine goblet in hand as he sipped the sweet Arbor gold everyone praised constantly in Westeros. The air around him seemed melancholy, staring off in the distance as the loosened tunic he wore shined a soft purple.
His conveniently turned to face you while you were still there, staring at him, and just like that his face changed. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” You walked over to him as you found no use in turning away and hiding. “I thought you would be retired in your bedchambers after all the dancing.”
The Young Prince shrugged. “I was restless. I am not ready to sleep yet.”
You hummed in agreement, leaning foreward as you rested your hands on the cold marble, titling your head up to feel the night breeze ghost your face gently. “It’s nice isn’t it? Feels like a dream to live here.”
Valarr stiffened again. He keeps doing this what is going on with him? “I’m sure you can find ways to move to the Reach if you enjoy Highgarden so much.”
“What?” You looked dumbfounded, a tad hurt by his words. “Why would you say that?”
“Are you serious?” The Targaryen prince turns to look at you almost sourly, handsome face darkening slightly. “That Tyrell flirt has been peeled to your side since the moment you got here. If you negotiate through terms of marriage I’m sure you could find a place to be of use here.”
You scoffed. Unbelievable. “And here I thought you were a gentleman. Remind me never to trust the charming whims of a prince like yourself so easily.”
“I am a gentleman,” He turned toward you, eyes glinting under the fading moonlight. “That is why I am giving you an alternative. He seems fond of you and you would be happy here.”
You laughed incredulously. “You are unbelievable, My Prince. Just because I enjoy the Reach does not mean I want to live with a suffocating player.”
Now it’s his turn to look confused. “You dont share the same affections for him?”
“I am fond of him in terms of kinship and conversation,” You crossed your arms, annoyed and bathed in a beautiful light of silver with your dress from the ball glinting under the light. “He is actually interested in what I do as a member of The Sisterhood as opposed to immediately deeming me wicked and avoiding me like the plague.”
He hesitated briefly before speaking once more. “It’s just you have been avoiding me since we got here.”
You shrugged, eyes downcast even if you wanted to protest otherwise. Why should you even be ashamed? It’s not like you could refuse a man of high rank. Not in this world. “You seemed withdrawn: I didn’t want to bother you. Boras also seemed to want to interrupt every engagement where we were talking and I am in no place to question the motives of nobility, or so I am taught.”
The Heir’s heir was quiet to your confession, suddenly feeling foolish and immature. After a moment he sighed deeply. “Forgive me. I made a hasty judgement. It was unfair of me.”
“It was.”
Valarr sighed again, rubbing his face with his palm. “I am not like this. Unsensible, brash, impulsive. And yet you bring out this side of me: one that I think I am often incapable of, except in my own mind.”
You dipped your head. “Forgive me.”
“That is not what I meant.” He dropped his head dejectedly for a moment before angling it back at you. “You have an effect on me unlike anyone else. I should be careful and wary. And yet the more I know of you, the more I am drawn to you, utterly unable to let go.”
Suddenly the tension shifted, like a viper sliding in the shadows. You felt him move after a groan that sounded like a final resolve that was making its choice, taking steps until you were less than a few feet away from each other. You turn to look at him, suddenly feeling warm.
Very warm.
The heat is radiating off Valarr’s skin as his face lingers mere inches from yours with the hunger in his mismatched eyes being unpalatable, his perfect lips parted as his tongue flicked out to lick the skin subconsciously, smelling sweetly of fresh wine.
Then something activated and his confidence took over. The dragon blood in his veins, or so it seemed. Whatever it was, it could have had you tremble in fear but coming from Old Valyria, it just made you hot. Hotter than ever before, actually.
“Do you truly think I haven’t noticed this whole time?” He backed you against the nearest marble wall, hands lightly gripping your arms as he forced you to press your back against the smooth surface. “How you beckoned me like an enchanting siren only to pull away at the last moment and leaving me to resort to menial provide my own release?”
His words cause heat to flush to your cheeks once more. You tried to say something, anything, but what could you do? You were scared to him the real reason as to why “I didn’t know you wanted it.”
“Of course I wanted it,” He moved to grip your chin, firm but not overpowering, as he tilted your head to the side to run the bridge of his nose against your neck. “I want you. I desire you.”
Heat pooled at your belly with such a declaration, your eyes following the beautiful and haunting side profile as he inhaled the sweet perfume Kiera insisted you dappled on every inch of your exposed skin. “Are you sure, My Prince? What if I bring you pain and suffering with the burdens I bear?”
He falters, drawing back to look at you with a gaze that is sweet once more, though the heat and lust never quite fades away. “Let me decide that.”
“But I’m not—”
“I don’t care.” His voice almost sounds bitter and angry, although deep down you know it’s not at you. “Let those stupid nobles try to come between us and try to seize my father’s throne. By the gods, let my father or even my grandsire try to separate us. I would rather die than not have you.”
It was a bold declaration wrapped in a wave of desire. But it didn’t matter anymore: such a confession made you realize that you wanted him, plain and simple. And you weren’t going to sit here and wait while you process such a thing — not anymore. No, you were going to seize the opportunity and take what you truly wanted.
You hook your arms behind Valarr’s neck and bring his lips to your own.
The Young Prince responds greedily, his hands moving instantly to cradle your cheeks. Moans echo from both of you as the kiss becomes hungry and passionate, chins dipping to explore inch of both of your mouths at every angle. Your hands move from the back of his neck to hold onto the collar of his beautiful tunic, gripping so tightly that your knuckles go white.
“Take me please,” You mumble in High Valyrian the moment the kiss breaks in heavy pants. “Take me right here. Spread my legs and fill me up with your cock so no one ever claims me again. Be the dragon I know you are.”
That seemed to activate a primal side of him that was absolutely feral. A dark look glittered in his eyes as he scooped you up, which threw you off entirely, causing you to yelp in surprise.
“What are you doing?”
“We are going to fuck among nature as the gods have intended,” He declared almost proudly, holding you close as you instinctively hook your legs around his strong waist. “I’m going to have my moon princess under the stars and no one, not even my grandsire the king, is going to stop me.”
┊ ➶ ｡˚ °
You laid against the soft grass under the gleaming moonlight, a blanket, as Valarr thrusted into you with a sense of pleasure unlike anything you had ever felt before.
Beautiful silks were kept on, bunched down to your waist to reveal your breasts to be fondled and licked to the Young Prince’s content while you fumbled with the lacing of his breeches to pull them down to well past his knees. His lips traveled against every inch of your skin, hands that were not pinching your nipple coming to lace with yours against the soft ground of nature in the garden.
Just like the dreams you had woken to.
He whispered praises under his lips in High Valyrian, nearly shuddering every time the two of you communicated in the language during the heat of the moment, his nose brushing against yours as he stole a kiss between every roll of his hips against your sweaty skin.
“I got you, My Love,” he whispered as he felt the whine slipping from your lips at the feeling of the pressure building, the peak creeping closer by every moment. “Let go for me.”
So you do. Your orgasm hits you in a wave of emotions: you scream his name and he follows not too long after, with a grunt.
You think it is the end until Valarr starts kissing down your stomach.
“Valarr?”
“I must have a taste,” He confesses, eyes full of desire as he kisses your left inner thigh. “I need that beautiful cunt in my mouth.”
A lick against your folds cause you to moan and hunch your back, one hand thrashing out to grip whatever strand of grass you can hold while the other moves to hold Valarr’s head so you can roll your hips against his face. His tongue makes quick work of exploration, flicking your clit with a sense of expertise that makes your eyes roll to the bad of your head.
“Fuck, don’t stop.”
He doesn’t. Instead he works harder, gripping your thighs as they wrap around his head while he laps your sweet juices that only seemed to pool out. The wave of your second orgasm is quicker than your first and while you all but scream loudly in ecstasy, your left fingers comb through his silver streak, tugging on it accidentally. It elicits a shudder through his body as he lifts his head up to look at you with a hooded gaze, your release still coating his chin as he licked his lips eagerly.
Oh.
In moments Valarr ends on his back, now the one looking confused as you swung your other leg over to straddle his lap, though his arms eagerly wrapped around you, leaning foreword to press hot kisses against your collarbones.
“What is this?”
You look down at him, a light in your eyes dancing wickedly. “The dragon has claimed me. It is only right that I ride him properly.”
┊ ➶ ｡˚ °
