remiel

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 :')

You were standing next to your father, and speaking to Prince Baelor. The older prince seemed kind, with gentle eyes and a kind touch when he'd shaken your hand. You hoped Valarr was like this. At home, your friends had spoken of their own arranged marriages with disdain. You didn't want to end up like that.

Valarr was beautiful.

You remembered seeing him for the first time, at a dinner held to celebrate your arrival to king's landing. If you'd met him anywhere else, you wouldn't have guessed that he was a Targaryen prince at all. Save for the streak of white hair going through a sea of brown, he looked.. almost normal, save for his otherworldly beauty.

He'd come to you with a polite smile. He took your hand, and pressed his lips to your knuckles. Your face was hot, and your chest was aching as you stared back up at him. He greeted you warmly. Your name sounded natural when it came off of his tongue.

His mismatched eyes stood out to you, but all they did was make him look even more handsome. You had no idea of what he looked like before, but you worried that he would be an ugly, cruel man. Instead, you were faced with the opposite.

Valarr sat next to you at the dinner, making small talk when he could. He'd asked you about where you grew up. The things you did for fun. Your family. He spoke little about your engagement, though you could only assume that it weighed on his mind just as much as it did yours.

He sat next to you then, and at every other gathering that followed. He'd always welcome you with a smile and a kiss to your hand. His lips were soft against your skin, but his gaze was even softer. He didn't look at you harshly. He'd never stared at you like you were something for him to claim. Whenever he looked at you, all you felt was warmth.

It scared you, at first. It wouldn't be surprising if he was polite and kind in front of a crowd, but how would he be when it was just the two of you alone? He seemed alright now, but you couldn't help the worry that seeped through your heart as your wedding day approached.

Valarr never changed in his behavior towards you.

You worried about appearing as immodest when he'd invited you for a walk through the red keep's gardens a few weeks after you'd arrived. A lady alone with her future husband.. It surely would not reflect well on you. He reassured you that it was alright, and that your walk would be just that. A walk. He'd looked at you so sweetly then, you found that it was hard to say no to him.

He kept a respectful distance from you, though sometimes his shoulder would brush against you as you walked together. It was simple, but wonderful.

"I wish to know you," he'd told you that night. "You are to be my wife, yes.. But I wish to know you."

He surprised you with those words. How many men wished to know their future wives? You remembered blinking back at him, speechless. He laughed, then. It was a beautiful sound. Light and real.

You watched as he glanced around, and only when he knew the two of you were truly alone did he take your hand into his. It was the first time he'd touched you so boldly. He assured you of his words being true, his thumb rubbing against the back of your hand. You believed him.

He remained just as kind through the next few weeks. Valarr continued to get to know you, though every time you'd sit together you swore he had inched just a bit closer than before. You didn't move away. You didn't think that you wanted to.

You'd been alone together plenty of times by now. Still in public places where anyone could see, but Valarr had not changed at all. He'd shown no signs of being evil at all. You thought that it was too good to be true, but it seemed real. How could you have gotten so lucky?

Your wedding came quicker than you expected, and before you knew it, you were standing in your dress.

Your father escorted you to Valarr. Your bride's cloak was heavy over your shoulders. Your heart pounded so loud you could hear it in your ears.

Valarr looked.. Regal, but still himself. Still handsome. He wore his house's colors. He looked at you with such warmth in his eyes that it nearly made you melt. He smiled at you, and you returned it with one of your own.

He removed your cloak, and draped another with his colors over your shoulders in its place.

"With this kiss, I pledge my love." Valarr said. His eyes did not stay from you, even for a moment.

"With this kiss, I pledge my love." you repeated after him. You did not wish to look away from him. You couldn't. You could hardly believe that this was real. You were marrying him.

You barely heard the septon over the sound of your own heart.

Valarr kissed you then. It was short, but tender. His hand came to caress your jaw, angling your head up slightly. His thumb ran across your skin, and you swore you could feel him smile against your lips. Valarr took your hand, and pulled you to his side.

"Finally," he murmured, just loud enough for only you to hear. "I don't have to hide."

You felt your cheeks heat up even further. Had he been looking forward to being affectionate with you? The mere thought of it flustered you. He'd always lingered close to you before the wedding, but he'd barely touched you. People could always see, and if they were to see, they would talk about it. Now, what could they say?

You squeezed his hand, a breath escaping from your lips.

You barely remembered the feast that followed. You remembered Prince Baelor taking your hands, congratulating you, and then hugging you. Valarr was much like his father. You remembered worrying about him being the opposite the day you'd met him.

The bedding was expected to take place that night. You returned to your bedchambers. It was an entirely new room to you. Far closer to the rest of Valarr's family. Your family now too, you supposed.

You were prepared for it. To do your duty as his wife. To give him an heir.

You weren't expecting for him to lay with you, hands gently caressing your sides, his face buried into your hair. "Could stay like this forever," Valarr muttered into your skin.

This was the first time you had ever truly been alone. Away from prying eyes.

"What about—?"

"About?"

"The.. bedding."

He opened his eyes, pulling his head back enough to look at you. "My wife.. we have all the time in the world." Valarr spoke softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your jaw.

You blinked. If he were any other man, you knew, he would be all over you. Your friends from home, and even some of the other ladies at court, had all told you that. Their husbands had barely waited for the door to close before they had began undressing their wives.

Though here he was, your husband, completely content with spending the night in your arms.

".. Alright." you replied after a long pause. You did have plenty of time. A child could come later. This night was entirely about the two of you.

Valarr was an attentive husband. No matter where you were, you were always his first priority. He would notice whenever you were hurting. Whenever you were uncomfortable. He'd offer to leave, and insist that his wife was more important than whatever he'd been doing before. You felt guilty, pulling him away from his responsibilities, but Valarr had always made it known that you were his first priority.

He was almost always touching you. His hand in your own. His hand against the small of your back. His arm wrapped around yours. His touches were always subtle, but they were there. In private, he became far more affectionate.

He enjoyed holding you. You'd be wrapped up in his arms, his fingers running through the strands of your hair as he breathed you in. Sometimes, you'd lay against his chest, and he'd just.. Admire you. How could he have gotten so lucky with a woman as wonderful as you?

This marriage was not made from love. Though he knew he loved you.

He would always make time for you. Though his duties as a prince and heir to the heir kept him busy, there was never a day where you didn't see him.

He loves kissing you. He's obsessed with it. He'll kiss every part of you that he can reach. In more public settings, he'll kiss your forehead. His hands would hold your face, and he'd press his lips to the crown of your head. He was always so gentle, and reluctant to let you go.

Sometimes, he'd sneak a kiss on your lips around the red keep or before a meeting. It would be quick, but Valarr would let himself linger for a few seconds before pulling away. He'd tuck your hair behind your ear and utter a cheesy compliment before he let you walk away, and then he would watch you leave. His wife was the most beautiful woman in all of the seven kingdoms— no, the world.

You'd come to be close with Matarys. His little brother would absolutely adore you, though he'd probably tease you about how clearly infatuated with Valarr you were. You'd also spend plenty of time with his father, Prince Baelor, who would quickly come to see you as a daughter. He'd look after you, too.. And would always smile whenever he saw you with his son. The sight of it would remind him of Jena and himself, when they were younger.

One day, Baelor would tell you that he was glad the two of you were so in love with each other. Before you came along, Valarr was never too excited about the prospect of getting married. He thought of it all as a reminder of the future. That, one day, he would be king. Baelor had told you that he seemed happier. That it seemed easier for him to accept, now that he had you.

You didn't know what to say back to him. Valarr had never been shy about his affections towards you, but he had not told you that he loved you— let alone that he was in love with you. It was a big step.. Even if you were technically married already. Love was different.

Valarr said it first. It came quietly, in a moment of peace where you were wrapped up in his arms after a long day of meetings and arrangements. He had his arms around your middle, holding you as close as he could. His buried his face into your neck, pressing gentle kisses across your skin there. "I love you," he whispered. He hadn't realized he'd said it at all.

You froze, your fingers running across his back faltering for a moment. You smiled, relaxing further into his touch and warm embrace. "I love you, too." You said back to him. You felt him grin against your skin, still kissing your neck.

From then on, he would say it every day. In the morning, when you'd first get up. At night, before you went to sleep. He'd tell you before going to see his father. Before Matarys dragged him off to do something. He would always find an opportunity to tell you he loved you.

Eventually, you did fall pregnant. You were always scared of childbirth. You knew of the dangers of it, but the thought of becoming a mother to a child with Valarr.. you felt happy. You hoped the little one would look like him. With his eyes, and his hair.

Somehow, he had become more attentive with you. As soon as he found out you were with child, it would be almost impossible to pull him from your side. Even in the early months of your pregnancy, when things mostly remained the same, he would worry about leaving you alone. You knew he was excited to become a father, and watching him only made you more eager for the day the babe would come.

As you moved further along, usually simple tasks became much harder for you. Your belly was far too large for you to do most things, and even walking was sometimes a chore. Valarr would keep next to you, holding onto your hand to steady you. Though you had plenty of servants to help you, it was usually him who got you everything you wanted. The chefs in the kitchen had quickly grown accustomed to seeing their prince.

When your labor began, you had never experienced such pain. You tried to reason that it would all be worth it when you heard the child cry after it was over, but you could hardly focus on it when every muscle felt like it was on fire. You were surrounded by ladies and midwives, trying to keep you calm and breathing, when your husband forced himself into your room. He'd joined you at your side. He let you squeeze his hand as tightly as you needed to as you pushed, and—

The child was beautiful. A son.

The midwives tried to get him to cry, but the noise never came. You could hardly hear them say it, but your heart dropped into your stomach as you looked at your son through blurry vision. A woman handed you the baby. He was a little thing, with brown hair to match his fathers. His eyes were closed, and you could not see their color. You hoped they matched Valarr's.

You could not cry. You didn't know if you were too exhausted to, or that perhaps you knew that it was coming. You felt him kick while he was in your stomach plenty of times. You'd made jokes that he was going to be a strong boy only a few weeks ago. How had your life changed so much? Every ounce of joy you felt— of excitement— faded away in an instant.

Next to you, Valarr sobbed. You could only let him hold his son. He kept the boy close to his chest, unable to pull his eyes away from him. You had never seen him so upset.

"I am sorry," you whispered, finally breaking the silence that should've never excited in the first place.

"What?"

"I.. have failed you. I should have.. been able to give you a son." You breathed out, your eyes finally welling up with tears you didn't think you were even able to cry.

"No," he spoke quickly, shaking his head. "You did not.. did not fail. We have a son." He told you, glancing back at the boy in his arms. You stared at the child. He looked like a complete copy of his father.

"He is.. he is not living." You forced out.

"But he is.. here. We have a son." Valarr insisted.

You sniffled. He climbed into your bed with you, pulling you against his side.

"You have not failed." He said again. You couldn't argue with him. Instead, all you could do was cry. Valarr held you in one arm, and your son in the other.

You vowed that you would give him a healthy child. Plenty of ladies give birth to children who don't live long, or at all. Others do not even make it to labor. It wasn't just you. It happened all the time. You tried to reassure yourself. It would be alright.

After that, Valarr remained closer to your side. It was hard to find you without him before, but now it was nearly impossible. He worried for your health if you were to have another pregnancy, and so he wished to wait until he thought that you were both ready. Even if that time never came. He didn't want to risk your life. He didn't ever want to remarry. If it meant being unable to have children to keep you at his side, that was what it would take.

Fights with him were rare. Whenever you did argue, he would always apologize first. They were never about anything serious, and he would feel bad after you'd walk away. He'd chase after you and apologize practically immediately. He was good at communicating with you, and found it important.. especially since you didn't have any choice in getting married to each other. Even if he wouldn't change it.

Your marriage, though arranged, did become one of love. Valarr could never imagine being with anyone else.

For all of your fears about Valarr— about who he was behind closed doors— he proved himself to be kind. He was genuine and loving. Warm-hearted, thoughtful, and reassuring.. understanding. Everything you had ever wanted in a husband.

You still wondered how you managed to get so lucky.

notes: wc is around 3.1k words. a lot longer than i expected this to be, but i'm happy with it. i wasn't expecting to add any angst in this either, but i think the loss of children is pretty important to valarr's character.. and who doesn't love some angst?

if you're a commoner, though.. things would definitely be a little different. valarr would use the opportunity to ride on the same horse together. it'd be easier to sneak around that way, if he'd brought only his horse from the stables out into the city to meet you. he'd be completely enamored with you despite the difference in status, and if you'd ask, he would throw his position away if it meant your hand.

regardless, he would love every second spent out riding with you. if you didn't know how to ride very well on your own, expect him to at least attempt to teach you. if you do.. then expect a little race.

once you got out far enough, probably somewhere in the kingswood, you'd hitch up the horses and just sit together. you'd talk about anything and everything. valarr wouldn't care because he would be with you. you'd try to ignore the warmth rising in your face as his hand brushes against yours. he'd always notice it, but he'd say nothing of it.

he'd ride back with you and make sure you got back to your quarters safely. finally, he'd kiss the back of your hand and look into your eyes with that sweet smile of his, and promise you that you could do it all over again.

duncan is going to indulge you no matter what. if you're someone born of high status, it'd be more likely that he'd try to decline. he couldn't possibly risk your reputation or your future. being seen with him would be scandalous for someone like you, and he ultimately does want the best for you even if his heart is begging him to agree with whatever you say.

he would be convinced. it wouldn't take very long for you to do so. the only thing you'd have to do is look up at him with a smile on your lips, and he would fold under pressure.

if you're a commoner, it'd be far easier to get him to agree. he'd still be a bit too shy to propose something that, in his eyes, is rather bold.. but he would love to do it, especially if it meant he got to spend a day in your company.

he'd ride side by side with you, following you wherever you decided to go. it wouldn't matter to him at all, as long as he got to be with you. it sounded ridiculously cheesy for him to even think it, but he knew it was true. he'd watch you, his face tinted red the entire time. he'd wonder how he managed to get so lucky. he wasn't sure what the two of you were, and he never wanted to ask in case he was misreading the situation.. but he did know that he adored you.

you'd find somewhere to relax together, and you'd stare up at the clouds. you'd look over to him with that look in your eyes that he loved so much, and he knew that he was a goner.

similarly to valarr, he'd also ride back with you. he'd go as far as he could, if you're a noble, to hopefully help protect you from any kind of rumors. it'd take a moment to build enough courage to do it, but he'd take your hand in his own for even just a second and give it a little squeeze. he'd tell you to be careful.. and then he'd tell you that he would be back, whenever you came calling.

Sleep didn't come easily, but it did come. A few hours after you'd laid in bed and thought all of the things you could think about Valarr, your eyes closed and didn't open again until the morning.

The sound of birds outside woke you up easily. It was peaceful at this hour, which was something you were thankful for. Despite the relatively restful sleep you had the night before, your mind still filled with thoughts of the prince and his promises. You dressed yourself as quickly as you could. Your ladies helped you into your gown as they always did, but you hurried them along all the same. You didn't know why. A part of you doubted that Valarr would follow up. A part of you didn't know if you wanted him to.

Being so entwined with a Targaryen was dangerous. Let alone the heir to the heir, a future king of Westeros. If he were to be truly interested in you, it would mean many eyes on you. Many eyes on your house and on your family. You wondered how your father would react. Would he be pleased? Proud? He'd always insisted you needed to get married, but he had never once tried to propose you to the dragon house. You'd never wondered why he hadn't before, but you certainly had started to now.

You maneuvered through the Redwyne pavilion. It wasn't as huge as some of the other houses. Many of your family members had decided to stay home for the tourney, and so only a handful of servants and other staff had joined you and your father for the trip away. You didn't have far to go before you made it outside and—

"Where are you off to, my daughter?" Your father's voice cut you out of your thoughts and forcefully brought you back into reality. You turned your head, your lips pressed into a smile as you met his watchful gaze. He was a loving man, and you knew he cared for you. Though he'd always been a bit.. overprotective, at times like this. You knew it was only because he worried. A young noblewoman alone in the midst of a tourney was dangerous, you reasoned. Though it had always been something of an annoyance.

"I'd like a bout of fresh air." You replied simply.

He eyed you for a moment, but nodded his head. It wasn't a lie, you told yourself. You didn't plan on going far. Valarr had told you that he'd find you, after all. It would make the most sense to at least be close to your family's tent if he were to come looking.

"How did you sleep?" He asked. "Well, I'd hope? After your.. excursion?"

You chuckled. Of course he would find out about it. You weren't particularly concerned with his reaction. You were a woman grown, after all.

"Yes, very well."

"Where did you go last night?"

"To the Cockleswhent, father. To clear my head after the jousting was done."

He looked back at you, a breath escaping from his lips. His gaze was soft as he watched you. "You must be careful. You cannot dismiss your guards. What if something were to happen to you?" He replied quickly.

You offered him a smile, warmer than the one you'd put on when you first saw him. You crossed the room to stand in front of him, and you took both of his hands into your own. "I am alright." You told him.

His thumbs ran over the backs of your hands and he swallowed the lump in his throat. "You are lucky that you are. Very lucky."

"Father—"

"You are my only daughter." He interjected, turning his head to look at your face again. "I.. I know you are free to do as you please, but I worry for you. Humor an old man, my dear. Alright?"

You bit at the inside of your lip, but nodded your head in a wordless agreement.

"Thank you." He whispered back to you, lifting one of his hands to caress your cheek. "Go on, now. The jousting begins within the next few hours, so please be mindful of the time." He gave you a pointed look. You rolled your eyes in response, but you couldn't help the laughter that escaped from you. You gave his hand a squeeze before you let go and brought yourself outside.

The air was warm and pleasant as it hit your face. You squinted as your eyes adjusted to the bright morning light, and you lifted a hand to shield yourself from the sun for a moment or two. It had gotten busier since you'd first woken up, and people were beginning to mill about while they waited for the lists to begin.

You looked around, forcing yourself to stand just a little straighter as you tried to find Valarr. You still didn't know if you truly wanted him to come. Surely you did, if you were standing around trying to spot him in a crowd. You felt like a fool. You sighed, your arms crossed over your chest as you breathed. You'd begun to think he'd forgotten about what he told you entirely. You wouldn't be surprised.

It wasn't as though he'd owed you anything, you reasoned. Valarr was a prince of the realm and you were sure he had many duties to attend to in the morning before he would even be able to attempt to look for you. The thought was at least somewhat reassuring. He had to be busy. Still, you tried to not get your hopes up. You'd only met him once, after all. First meetings could always be deceiving. You still didn't know him.

You turned, moving back towards your tent. You knew that trying to pick him out amongst all of the people around you would prove difficult, so you decided to return and take a seat outside. There were a few chairs lingering about at the front of the tent, reserved for you and your lord father, so you made yourself comfortable.

You didn't want to go back inside. It was far too stuffy, and the thought of seeing your father again so soon put a pit in your stomach for reasons you couldn't quite explain. It wasn't as though you were being dishonest. You'd told him the truth. You did go to the Cockleswhent to clear your head after the jousts. You didn't have to tell him every little detail. You brushed it aside and leaned further back into the seat, still glancing around in an attempt to find the prince.

It couldn't have taken longer than a few minutes to spot him.

In the sweet light of the morning, he was easier to recognize. He wore the same armor as last night, the same beautiful black metal with the Targaryen three headed dragon on the breast plate. You could see the details a bit better now that it wasn't so dark, but you could hardly focus on his armor when his face was so clear.

The silver streak in his hair made him stand out. As he made his way through the crowd, other noble lords and ladies would bow to him and offer him pleasant looks. He'd return it all with a smile and a polite nod of his head, but it seemed like he was determined to make it somewhere. He hadn't stopped to talk to anyone else. You found yourself sitting just a bit straighter in your seat, your fingers combing through the ends of your hair as you watched him approach.

Finally, Valarr stopped in front of you.

You looked up at him from where you sat, biting back a smile.

"I kept my promise." He said.

"You made no promises."

"I intended it as one." He retorted, a playful look in his mismatched eyes. You could see the coloring much clearer now. A beautiful blue, and a sweet brown to match it. You found it more enchanting than the typical coloring of other members of his house.

The corners of your lips turned upwards. "What has brought you here, Prince Valarr?"

He laughed. You watched his tongue run across his teeth, and he turned his head to glance over his shoulder before he turned back to you. "I wished to see you again." He replied. His words were simple, but they were words you never would've expected from him. "And.. I must say, my lady.. you look beautiful." He continued after a pause. His gaze shifted across your face, and you felt suddenly.. vulnerable. Seen in a way you had never been seen before. It hardly made any sense to you.

"Thank you, my prince." You forced out, your voice so soft it was practically a whisper.

You could feel eyes on you. It didn't seem like Valarr cared about who saw him now. He could do as he pleased, after all. You supposed you could too. It was only strange for you to be speaking to a prince. He was the one who has searched for you, and you could hardly even believe that.

"Valarr." He corrected. "It's just the two of us."

"Hardly."

"It is." He insisted.

You looked around. Plenty of people were close to you. People who were watching and whispering and making up stories to spread to the rest of the tourney, you were sure. You looked back to him. He smiled.

"There are people here. We.. should not be so informal. We are practically strangers."

He pursed his lips and took in a breath, his eyes shifting to the ground. "I suppose we are." He nodded. He turned his focus back to you, watching you through his eyelashes. "We don't have to be."

You laughed, though the notion of being anything other than strangers with such an important person made your face flush and your cheeks heat up. "I'm serious!" Valarr insisted, chuckling. "I.. enjoyed our little outing, as unplanned as it was." He told you, his voice soft but evidently serious. He still had that smile on his lips. Warm and kind. Gentle. Reassuring.

Your jaw clenched, and you glanced away from him as you thought. What would it entail, being close with him? He hadn't said anything about his intentions. What would it mean for you? What would you be to him?

Before you could think too much, he spoke up again. "I'd like to know you." He continued. His fair cheeks were dusted in a coat of red. It had been humid at Ashford lately. You imagined it was uncomfortable in this weather in a suit of armor like the one he wore. "Lady Redwyne," he interrupted your thoughts, "I don't intend for this to stress you, and you are well within your rights to deny me. I promise my complete understanding."

"What would it mean?" You spoke up, your focus finally finding him again.

He paused. His gaze flickered back and forth between your eyes, and you watched his shoulders rise as he breathed. "Whatever you'd.. like." He said. He'd worded it like it was simple.

You raised your eyebrows, your head tilted to the side. "Whatever I'd like?" You repeated.

Valarr nodded. "I'm not going to ask you for your hand. Not right here, nor right now. It is hardly the most romantic of places." A short laughed escaped him. His face was a bit redder now. You knew your cheeks felt even hotter than before. "You deserve better than that. And.. you deserve to have a choice in the matter."

You stared back at him, eyes wide and unblinking.

"And.. I would like to know you. Whatever it may bring." He finished. You watched him for a moment. He wet his lips, and all you could do was watch him. He said nothing else, but he made no attempt to leave. He wanted to know you. He wanted to know you. Not just the Lady Redwyne. The Lady Redwyne who had been put on display for so many men over the years. He looked at you like you were a woman. A person. Not just something to show off. He looked at you like you were a truly beautiful woman. Though he didn't look at you like you were just a piece of meat available for the taking whenever he pleased, like the others did in the past.

"I.." you started, swallowing the sudden lump that had formed in your throat. "I would like to know you." You decided. You stood just a little straighter, and your voice was slightly firmer. You were confident in your choice, and it wasn't one you wanted to go back on. You knew that for certain when he'd smiled back at you.

"I'm very pleased to hear it, my lady."

You replied with your name.

"What?"

"For when we're alone. It seems only fair, doesn't it?"

He grinned, nodding his head. Valarr tested out your name. It somehow sounded more wonderful coming from his lips than it ever had before.

"I meant it when I said I'd ask for your favor." He told you, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

"Did you?"

"Of course. I meant it when I said you were beautiful. I meant it when I said I'd see you again before the lists." He teased. "And in this light, my lady.. you look even more lovely."

You forced yourself to look away, knowing that the flush on your face would make it obvious that his words had an effect on you. It was the second time in this one conversation alone that he'd told you such things.

"I thought it impossible." He continued. "Though it is true, and I've been proven wrong." He leaned in closer to you, trying to get a clear view of the face you'd shielded from him. He was clearly teasing you now.

"Oh, that's enough." You laughed, turning your attention back to him before he had the chance to embarrass you any further.

"I'm only honest," he whispered your name under his breath. Your gaze softened. He took your hand into his own again, just like he did the night before. His were armored, but his touch was kind. He pressed a kiss to your knuckles again. Your breath caught in your throat. He didn't drop your hand this time. He held onto it loosely, leaving you enough room to pull away should you wish to. You didn't.

"I'll ask for your favor." Valarr told you again.

"What about Lady Gwin?" You asked him once you'd returned to your senses. "You should ask for her favor. She's a young girl, and this tourney is for her name day. I'm sure it would mean much to her—"

"Lady Gwin has four other champions, Lady Redwyne." He reminded you.

"And it's not every day that one of her champions is a prince of House Targaryen, is it?"

"Are you trying to get me to feel bad?" He asked you after a pause, hand resting on the pommel of his sword as he bit back a smile.

"I'm.. only making sure that this is what you want. People will talk."

"Let them." He replied quickly. "It is you that has captured my attention. Lady Gwin will be alright. She had my favor during yesterdays jousts." He informed you.

"She did?"

"She did. I could hardly let the lady of the house go unanswered."

You looked back at him, your tongue pressed against the inside of your cheek. "Then you shall have my favor, Prince Valarr."

"I am very honored." He told you with a smile. "I shall see you at the lists, my lady."

He squeezed your hand, and then let it go.

You watched him leave again, just as you had done the night before. Your heart felt heavy and light at the same time. You knew that the ache in your chest was a new feeling.

You could feel eyes on you. For once, you didn't care.

The next hour passed relatively slowly. Valarr had left you and returned to his family, presumably to finish getting ready for the jousting, which gave you time to sit back down and think about what had truly just happened.

Valarr had expressed a real interest in you. It wasn't one born of an arranged match, but completely by coincidence. If you hadn't met him by the stream you doubted that you would have met him at all. He was a busy man, after all. He wouldn't have time to speak to every noble lord or lady that had shown up to the tourney. It was impossible. Though he did meet you. He met you in a private place, free of prying eyes and judgemental stares. By the stream, it was just you and him. You were glad for it.

You took your lord fathers arm as you made your way to the stands. He'd looked at you for a moment longer than usual when he noticed the smile on your lips. The previous day, you hadn't been in such a good mood when it came time for the jousting. He knew you never really enjoyed it. Not like he had. You tended to think of it as an unnecessary, violent activity. Though the Reach was known for their love of the sport, you'd never taken a fondness towards it. Until today, it seemed.

You arrived only slightly early. The clouds had covered up the sun since the morning hours, but it was still warm enough even with the lack of light. You spotted Valarr's tent, nestled next to the tents of a few of the other jousters that were competing. You could hardly focus on them. Not when your mind was so preoccupied with the prince. You spotted him from where you sat in the stands, holding his helm underneath his arm as he watched the audience move in to their seats. He seemed to be looking for someone, but you couldn't tell with the distance between the two of you. You wondered if he was looking for you.

The energy was filled with excitement. The second day of jousting was usually always more entertaining than the first, you'd heard people say. People were waiting eagerly, standing up to look over the heads of those sitting in front of them. Luckily you didn't have to deal with that part. House Redwyne was important enough to the Reach and to Lord Leo Tyrell that your family had been given some of the best seats in the stands. The best save for the royal box, which was reserved for Lord Ashford, his daughter and the royal family in attendance.

You saw Prince Baelor, Valarr's father, sitting next to Lord Ashford. You couldn't quite pinpoint the look on his face, but you did notice that his brother Maekar was gone from his seat. Another seat was empty, and you remembered Prince Aerion sitting there the previous night. You could only assume that he would joust. You found yourself hoping that he wouldn't be jousting Valarr. If the rumors were true.. you didn't want to think on it any further.

The event started rather quickly after everyone was seated. The common folk gathered around the wooden barriers next to the lists in the grass, while the lords and ladies of noble houses like yourself were all seated comfortably in the stands, looking down at the area from above.

You watched this time, though you would always flinch at the sight and sound of wood splintering against metal shields and armor. It was usually one match up at a time at tourneys like this, but Lord Ashford had taken a different approach and arranged five at once. It only amplified the sound. They all tended to meet in the middle at the same time.

You sat up straighter when you noticed Valarr, preparing to joust himself. His opponent was Lord Gawen Swann, if you remembered their houses sigil correctly. You felt a bit anxious, watching him approach the lists himself. He'd done wonderfully the night before, you knew. Still, you could feel your heart twist inside of your chest as he got closer to you.

You blinked, and he was in front of you. He still held his helm under his arm, and he looked up at you with those mismatched eyes that you couldn't stop thinking about. He had that sweet smile on his lips, the same one that he'd been wearing earlier. You swallowed, your throat feeling suddenly dry as you felt so much attention turn to you.

"My lady Redwyne," Valarr began. "I would like to ask for your favor."

You bit at the inside of your lip, trying to hold back a smile of your own.

"I believe I can win this tournament, with your blessing." He continued after a pause, his eyes watching your every move. You could feel your father's gaze upon you from where he sat next to you.

You wet your lips, and looked down to your lap. You'd brought it with you today in anticipation of this very moment. Your favor was a relatively simple item, but it held great importance to you. You'd made it with your mother some years ago when she told you that you needed one. She'd insisted that you were the most beautiful young woman in all of the realms, and that any knight who wasn't a fool would ask you for your favor.

Valarr held his lance up to you, and you stood from your seat. It was made of purple and blue fabrics, adorned with simple white flowers, tied together in a beautiful yet intricate knot. Your mother had done that part for you, and you remembered watching her with wide eyes. It felt like she knew how to do everything. Like she knew the answer to everything. You missed her.

"It would be my honor, my prince." You replied. You slid it onto the top of the lance, and followed it as it made its way down to the bottom. Valarr looked at it, his gaze soft. He lifted his hand, running his covered fingers across the material.

"Thank you, my lady. I won't let you down." He told you as he turned to look back to you. You smiled down at him. He looked to your father, giving him a respectful bow of his head. He lingered for a moment, his eyes finding yours, before he rode off to their starting positions.

You returned to your seat, your cheeks flushed in embarrassment. Your father sat next to you in silence, but you could tell he was still looking at you. In any other scenario, he would always be watching the jousting. For once, your positions were reversed. You were the one paying attention, and he was finding importance in something else.

"Prince Valarr?" He asked you softly, leaning in to make sure you heard him.

"What?"

"You heard me, daughter."

You blinked a few times, taking in a deep breath. You had hoped that you wouldn't have to have this conversation in the stands. "Yes, Prince Valarr."

"I wasn't aware you'd met him."

"We.. met briefly last night, and again this morning." You explained quickly.

"By the Cockleswhent?" He responded.

You nodded, your hands folded together in your lap. You watched Valarr, your eyes focused on your houses colors draped against the black of his lance. "Yes, father." You nodded.

He leaned back into his seat, his fingers held together loosely. He wasn't looking at you anymore, but Valarr. He wore his helm now. Lord Gawen readied up at the other end of the lists.

"He's.. he seems like a nice boy."

You held back a laugh at that, but you did manage a smile. "He has been." You told him quietly. "I would not have given him my favor if he were anything like his cousin."

He gave you a glare, and you cleared your throat.

"That's good." You heard him murmur under his breath. "It's good. You're interested in a man."

"That's.. a strong word, father."

"I just watched you give him your favor, daughter. You were blushing like a maiden on her wedding night." He chuckled, shaking his head.

"I.." you started, but you realized that you had no argument for his words. He was probably right. You could only hope that you'd looked calm and confident as you gave Valarr your favor, but you knew you were most likely obviously flustered. Wouldn't any woman be? The thought of that made you feel at least a bit better.

"It's good. It's wonderful, even." He told you. "My daughter.. the future Queen of all of the Seven Kingdoms." He grinned. He looked.. proud.

"I would not go that far." You replied.

"Oh, please. I know that look well," he nodded towards the prince. "It was the same look I gave your mother, I'm sure of it."

You glanced at your feet, playing with your fingers in your lap. "It's nothing so serious," you retorted. "He wishes to know me, that's all. Regardless of what it entails for us."

"Right." He laughed. "'Get to know you.' That's what all men say. It seems Targaryens are closer to men than we'd think."

Targaryens are closer to Gods than men.

You'd read that before, and you'd heard it said. Their beauty was revered, with beautiful silver hair and eyes the shade of shimmering violet. The mere ability to ride dragons made them seem closer to Gods than men ever could be. Even if dragons no longer brought their magic to the world, the Targaryens remained. Closer to Gods than men.

Valarr rode forward, the end of his lance meeting Gawen Swann's shield. It shattered at the contact, but his opponents lance did the same. His squire handed him another, and you watched with bated breath. They met once again in a clash of wood and metal, and you flinched at the sound. You opened your eyes as Valarr rode away. Lord Gawen had met the mud beneath them, pieces of his broken lance scattered around him on the ground.

You smiled, a relieved sigh escaping from your lips as you stood, applauding. The stands erupted into cheers as he took off his helm. He found you almost immediately, and he pointed at your favor, standing strong against the bottom of his lance. Even through his helm, you knew the look that he had on his face underneath it. You chuckled at the sight of it. He returned to his tent after a pause, and you once again sat back down.

Your father kept his concentration on you as he returned to his seat as well. He always seemed to know more than you did. You hated that.

The rest of the jousting was not nearly as interesting, and you only turned your focus back to it when Aerion Targaryen was announced to joust. He was given a choice of the champions, and you noticed how he'd immediately began to ride towards Valarr's tent.

Aerion was rumored to be cruel without his father's presence. You turned to look back at the box. Prince Maekar was still missing from his seat. Anxiety filled your chest, and you sat up straighter to get a better view. Most were completely silent— from nobles to common folk below— awaiting his decision.

Valarr eyed him from his seat, his head tilting as his cousin approached on horseback. From your seat, you couldn't hear what was being said, nor see the expression on Aerion's face. Valarr stood, eyes narrowed. It didn't seem like he was one to back out of a challenge. "Not to worry. I won't embarrass you today." You heard him say, loud enough for the entire tourney to hear. You felt relief as he left, riding his horse to the next tent over.

Ser Humfrey Hardyng, you recognized. He was a known skilled tourney knight, and he had yet to be unhorsed in the two days of jousting he'd faced so far. "Come out, come out, little knight. It's time you faced the dragon." The prince called out to him. Ser Humfrey exited his tent, still clad in his armor save for his helm. He climbed onto his horse quickly, and rode out onto the tourney grounds. A pit formed in your stomach.

The wind whipped through your hair, and you heard the crackle of thunder off in the distance.

The first tilt was hardly a tilt at all. Ser Humfrey had tried to knock the prince from his horse, leaning out even further than usual to reach him on the other side of the wooden barrier, but he had avoided his lance on purpose. People were less than pleased by it, yelling and jeering.

The second was nigh unbelievable.

You gasped as Aerion's lance pierced the neck of Ser Humfrey's horse. You gasped, a hand covering your mouth as you watched the animal writhe helplessly. It's whines and whinnies filled your ears. You watched as the small folk climbed over fences in an attempt to reach the prince, tossing rocks at his armored body in protest. The Kingsguard filed out in their white armor to protect him. Ser Humfrey groaned in pain, his lower body completely crushed under the weight of his horse. Aerion found you in the stands, a cocky look on his face. You forced yourself to look away. You couldn't stomach the sight of it at all, and it seemed like your father couldn't either.

"Come, daughter. We should return to our tent at once."

You nodded. You rose from your chair and followed him down the stairs onto the dirt.

notes: wc is about 5.1k words. this was.. a lot longer than i had originally anticipated, and i contemplated splitting it down the middle, but i ultimately decided not to. hopefully this is easy to read and as good as part one, though! thank you for all of your nice comments and kind words, and the support in general on it. i'm proud of how these two turned out, and i'm already thinking about a third part if people are interested. perhaps.. aerion shows a bit of interest in our dear lady redwyne.. just to rile valarr up. we'll see!

you'd probably get paint all over yourself in the process.. but she'd be happy to help clean it off. she'd get a wet rag and wipe some of it off of your face, her eyes flickering between your own and your lips that are somehow much closer than she'd originally anticipated.

she'd thank you for your help, and secretly hope that you'd be back again. you'd show up, of course, ever eager to see her. tanselle would love to do something you enjoy too, whatever it may be. even if it's just walking around and enjoying nature together. she enjoys being around you, and is happy to do anything with you.

it's very obvious the two of you like each other. you're always together. you'll sometimes stand too close, your hand brushing against your own as you watch the water go by in the stream closest to wherever their troupe might've stopped.

you'd come by often to 'help' with the puppets. so much so that the rest of her troupe often refers to you as one of their own. you're not the best at making the actual puppets themselves, and your painting skills could always use some work, but the help and company is always appreciated by tanselle.

besides, she loves seeing that focused look on your face whenever you're trying really hard not to mess something up. she'll always notice how your nose crinkles and your brows furrow. you'd bite your lip, and then let out a breath once you were done with your task. she loves it.

she'd become fond of you quickly. she shows her love and affection through quality time and gift giving, so expect her to paint you something special and give it to you after a little while.

she'd always love it whenever you came around. she'd find herself smiling more often than usual. her heart would beat just a little quicker. she would watch you leave, and she'd be excited for what tomorrow might bring with you at her side.

He'd looked for you in the crowd. You knew that much for certain. A pit had formed in your stomach at the mere thought of him. The only explanation for his sudden interest had to have been Valarr. They were cousins— their fathers were brothers— and you knew they were not particularly close. Aerion was everything Valarr was not. He was vain and cruel. Valarr was generous and kind. You at least felt some relief at the thought of the Iron Throne being in the safe hands of Baelor's line.

You'd heard nothing but good things about the heir, Baelor Breakspear. Some were upset by his look. He had dark hair and dark eyes that matched those of his mother, the Dornish princess Myriah Martell. People were too blinded by his lack of traditional Valyrian features to realize that he was exactly the kind of king Westeros needed. Someone capable of warmth and understanding. Baelor was said to be honorable, and a noble man.

You made it back to your tent with little issue. The few Redwyne guards your father had brought from the Arbor had managed a relatively clear path through the common folk after a bit of time. They weren't mad at you, or any of the other nobles in the stands. Their anger remained with the prince, and his dishonorable actions.

The clouds blocked the sunlight from the grass, which left the meadow in a bit of a chilly state. You'd slipped on a simple jacket your father insisted you bring just in case of this weather, and took a seat outside again in the same place you'd spoken to Valarr that morning.

You could only imagine how hectic it must be for his family. You didn't know any Targaryen well. You wouldn't say you knew Valarr, either. You'd only spoken to him a few times, but you knew him better than any of the others. You wondered if Maekar had returned. You heard a few mention how his oldest and youngest sons had yet to arrive at Ashford. Prince Daeron was set to joust with his brother Aegon as his squire, it seemed. People were saying they had perished on the road. Maekar had apparently went out looking for them himself. How would he react to what Aerion had done? You couldn't pretend to have even a semblance of an idea.

You pulled the fabric of your clothing closer to yourself as you stared off into the clouds. Your father had told you where he was going but you could hardly remember what he had said. Your mind had been too focused on the look Aerion had given you. A smirk on his lips.. something devilish in his eyes. You shoved the thought of it aside, and focused your eyes on—

"Prince Valarr?"

He held his hands together in front of him. He'd changed out of his armor into something more comfortable. He wore a cloak over his shoulders. It looked much like the cape he wore at the lists, but it was more suitable for the weather. Underneath it, he wore black velvet doublet with red Targaryen accents embroidered into it. His lips were pursed together in a thin line, his gaze on the floor.

You rose to your feet, your brow furrowed as you watched him. Hesitantly, you reached a hand out to him. You rested it on his shoulder, and he turned to look at you at the contact. He swallowed, and the corners of his lips just barely turned upward.

"I wished to see you after the.. chaos that my cousin caused." Valarr told you after a moment. His gaze shifted to your hand, and he lifted his own to take yours into his grasp. He ran his thumb over your skin, eyes moving back to your face. This was the first time you'd ever truly felt his flesh against your own. Every other time he'd touched you, he had armor on. This was new. Different.

"I'm alright." You murmured. You gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

"I saw how he looked at you. It.. made me uneasy."

You took in a breath, biting at the inside of your lip. You'd noticed it. You hoped that perhaps you were just seeing things. You hoped he was looking at someone else.

"I should not have asked for your favor." He continued, glancing over his shoulder. He seemed almost paranoid.

"What?"

"It's.. it's put a target on your back. Aerion is.. he is cruel, my lady. He will go to great lengths to hurt someone. I worry that I've.." he trailed off, turning his head to look towards the sky.

"I'm not afraid of him, Valarr."

He focused back in on you now, his eyes shifting back and forth between your own. You found yourself entirely mesmerized by his eyes every time he looked at you. There was something so special about them. You wet your lips, and offered a reassuring smile.

"You are strong.. and brave." He whispered back to you.

"I'll be alright. I promise."

"If he tries anything—" He started.

"I will ignore him."

"Ignoring him tends to make him worse." Valarr chuckled, lifting his free hand to run through his hair. You laid your eyes on the silver streak in his hair. It was the only thing that visibly marked him as a Targaryen, save for the dragons he wore across his clothing. It was beautiful. Unique.

"Then.. I will be boring." You proposed with a shrug of your shoulders. it managed to get a smile from him, which warmed your heart and eased your mind a bit.

"Boring.. I have a hard time imagining you as boring." He retorted.

"I can pretend."

"You're multi-talented. A woman after my own heart." He hummed, lifting your hand to his lips. He pressed a kiss to your knuckles, and he lingered there for a few moments longer than he would ever need to.

He pulled away. His other hand dug into the pocket of his jacket.. and he pulled out something that looked awfully familiar.

Your favor.

You stared back at it, eyebrows knitted together. "I wished to see if you'd like it back." Valarr told you softly, extending it out to you. You looked at it, unmoving and unblinking. The purples and blues of the fabric, the beautiful white of the flowers.. all of it remained in perfect condition. It seemed that he'd taken good care of it. "I'd understand if you.. wished for me to return it to you."

"I—" you started. You shook your head. You lifted your own free hand, and gently pushed your favor back towards his chest. "No. No, I gave it to you. I wished for you to have it then, and I wish for you to have it now. Nothing could change that. I would not undo it." You told him firmly.

He watched you with wide, unblinking eyes and parted lips. He looked almost surprised. A breath escaped from him. He kept his focus on you for a few moments more, making sure you weren't going to change your mind. "Even with the.. less than savory attention?" He asked you after a long pause.

"I would not change it, even so." You muttered.

He hesitated briefly. His hand shook as he pocketed your favor once again.

"If Aerion comes around—"

"Valarr, I'll be alright."

"I.. don't doubt it, my lady." He whispered, taking a step closer towards you. Your face could only be a few inches away from his own. "I only worry for you. I'm quite fond of you."

"Oh, are you?" You replied, head tilted to the side.

"You heard me." He laughed. "It's hard not to be. You're beautiful.. kind. Courageous. Unwavering."

You couldn't help but to roll your eyes at his slew of compliments, though his tone was completely serious. Your cheeks heated up at his words as they always did, but you managed to keep your composure in the face of embarrassment.

"You hardly know me."

"I know enough." He responded without missing a beat.

You pressed your lips together. "If your cousin comes knocking, I'll play nice."

He nodded. It didn't seem like the weight had been lifted from his shoulders, but all you could do was reassure him. He couldn't possibly know what his cousin would do. You could only hope that he would leave you alone.

Somehow, you had a feeling that he wouldn't.

Valarr squeezed your hand again, and gently returned it to your side. "Be safe, my lady." He murmured.

"You worry too much." You whispered back.

He laughed. "I'm serious."

"I know you are." You breathed out. "I will be careful, my prince."

He bit at the inside of his lip, but said nothing else. He turned on his heel, and disappeared into the crowd. You watched him for as long as you could, a heavy weight on your chest.

The night was quiet, all things considered.

The chaos at the lists was certainly still being spoken of. You'd hear whispers from the common folk as they walked by the Redwyne pavilion. You had heard from them that Ser Humfrey Hardyng had survived with only a broken leg. It was nothing short of a miracle. You thanked the Mother for her mercy. You did not pray for Aerion, but perhaps you should've. His soul certainly needed some sort of salvation. Somehow, you doubted that he would accept such prayers.

You'd enjoyed a meal with your father inside of the Redwyne tent. You did not speak much. You could only assume that his mind lingered on the sights that had happened earlier in the day, and you did not want to speak of that any further. It was hard to think of anything else when it was all people talked about.

He had brought up Valarr over dinner.

"Has he been good to you?" He had asked you, looking away from his plate to meet your gaze.

You felt awkward. You didn't particularly enjoy talking about such topics with your father, but you knew he was only attempting to look out for you. You pursed your lips together and nodded, your hands resting in your lap.

He had nodded back to you in response. He seemed pleased. Happy, even. You could see a bit of a smile on his face as he continued eating. A smile from him was rare these days. There wasn't much that your father seemed to enjoy.

You'd returned outside after dinner, the cool evening air nipping at your skin. It wasn't too cold that it made you wish to return inside, at the very least. So you sat down once again, and looked up at the stars.

You had almost hoped to see Valarr again before bed, but you weren't particularly surprised when he didn't return. You could only imagine how busy a man of his status must be. You knew it was far from personal. With everything that had occurred.. you were sure he was busier than usual. The Targaryen image had been tainted based on the actions of one prince. The others would have to clean up after him.

You adjusted yourself in your seat, your lips parting as you took in a deep breath.

You rose to your feet, brushing your palms against the fabrics of your dress. Even with chill, your hands were sweating. You supposed you were nervous enough to warrant it. You were confident in your ability to thwart Aerion, should he come looking for you. Though the mere thought of Valarr had started to make you nervous. His interest in you was still surprising. You'd half expected him to forget your name come the morrow, but he had asked for your favor in front of the entire tourney. You smiled to yourself as you walked from the tent and down towards the Cockleswhent once more.

You weren't worried about any of your guards following you. At this hour, it was likely for them to be partying and enjoying themselves inside with glasses of wine and ale. You figured that they deserved it after their work clearing the way after the jousting was through. They'd managed to keep you and your father safe with minimal effort. You glanced over your shoulder as the Redwyne pavilion grew further away. None came with you. You doubted they'd notice you were gone, and you didn't plan on being away for too long.

For a woman who hated sailing, you did always enjoy the water.

You lifted a hand and pushed away a few branches as you made your way down the hill and towards the stream. This was the exact place you had met Valarr last night. It felt like it had happened a long time ago. It felt like you had known him forever. It was a bit silly to think, but.. you felt better with him in the span of a day than you had ever felt with any other man. Especially any of your suitors.

You let out a sigh as you stood next to the water, watching it flow downstream as you had done the previous night. You felt better here than you did in the midst of all of the chaos of the tourney, you realized. Your chest felt lighter. It felt easier to breathe.

You jumped at the sound of rustling leaves, and you turned to face the noise, your dress balled up in your hands.

You had wished it was Valarr.

You assumed wrong.

His hair was short, but a beautiful Valyrian silver. He wasn't wearing the armor he'd been wearing at the joust. He wore black velvet with red accents, almost similar to the outfit you saw Valarr wearing earlier in the day. Aerion's was different. More subtle. It suited him in the sense that he was the second son of the fourth son of the king. His claim to the throne was weak. Valarr would be king one day.

You swallowed, and turned your head away from him, hoping he'd ignore you.

"Lady Redwyne, wasn't it?" His voice rang out. He couldn't be too far away from you. You clenched your jaw together, and put on a smile.

"You'd be right, Prince Aerion." You forced out, your hands clasped together in front of you.

You could see the violet in his eyes now. While they were stunning, the man who had them was far from kind. You pictured Valarr's mismatched eyes in your head instead. They were unique. Warm. All you could see in them was kindness.

The grin on his face was less than kind, but he made no move to reach out to you. "You are quite beautiful. I see why my cousin asked for your favor." He murmured. His gaze trailed over your face.. and then down, further, across your bodice and down towards your feet. You felt uncomfortable and exposed underneath his eyes, and you found yourself taking a step back from him.

"Thank you. That's.. kind of you to say." You replied, bobbing your head respectfully. Be boring. You repeated those words to yourself over and over again. The words you had told Valarr earlier. Don't ignore him. Make him uninterested.

"It's.. unfortunate that I was too late to ask you for it myself." He whispered back to you. His eyes found your face again. His lips were parted.

"Well, that's.. a sweet gesture, Prince Aerion. You flatter me."

He tilted his head. "Are you not bored of him?"

"What?"

"You heard me." Aerion replied quickly, brows narrowed as he watched you. "My cousin. Does he not bore you?"

Your throat felt suddenly dry. Your tongue wet your lips. You tried to keep your attention on him. Don't ignore him. Make him uninterested. "I.. I do not know him very well yet. I could not say." You settled on. It wasn't exactly a lie, but it wasn't the complete truth. You doubted that you could ever be bored around Valarr. Even if you were merely sitting in silence with him.

"Too bad." He stepped closer. Aerion lifted his hand, and took a strand of your hair in between his fingers. He twirled it around, his eyes meeting yours. "I know I would not bore you."

"My prince—"

"I could give you all you wished for. Wouldn't you like that?"

"I'm.. I'm very happy with.. where I am now."

His movements paused. You watched as his jaw clenched together, his grip on your hair tightening only slightly. "Well," he whispered, "if you were to change your mind.." he continued. He leaned forward, his lips barely grazing over the skin of your jawline. "You'll come find me, won't you?"

You blinked a few times, frozen in place. He tucked your hair behind your ear, a smirk on his face as he pulled back from you. You nodded. He seemed pleased enough with your response. His tongue ran over his teeth, his smile only widening. You didn't know what you saw in his eyes, but you knew that you didn't like it.

Just like last night, you found yourself standing by the water of the Cockleswhent, watching a Targaryen prince disappear into the woods.

Only this time, the aching in your heart left a pit in your stomach. Not warmth.

notes: wc is 3k. this is actually my first time ever really writing anything for aerion.. and it wasn't particularly planned to include him here at all when i first started writing this little series either. so yeah! like i said at the beginning, he's not a main focus of this series. in my head, he's only trying anything with her because valarr has publicly shown an interest in her.

anyway, sorry this part was delayed. i had a lot of stuff come up in my life involving my family and things are only just now sorta calming down enough for me to write again. thank you all for being so patient and understanding with me!

if people enjoy this part.. i might make a part four. we'll see! i need to come up with a way to continue it. i might diverge from canon going forward (without the trial of seven to focus more on character relationships.. but who knows. it might be interesting for it to happen and for baelor to die..) let me know your thoughts!! i'm super interested to hear what you guys think.

You forced your eyes closed, but sleep could not come easy with the weight of that realization on your chest.

Perhaps you should avoid the Cockleswhent. It was a thought that felt foolish to entertain, but if you hadn't been at the stream.. you wouldn't have met Valarr. If you hadn't met him, he wouldn't have wished to ask for your favor. If he hadn't, Aerion wouldn't have cornered you. A part of you doubted that it would have stopped him. A prince would always get what he wanted, even if what he wanted was someone else.

You turned in bed for what felt like days. It could not have been more than an hour or two, but your mind could not seem to slow for even a moment. You were still glad to have met Valarr, you thought. Even if it meant all of this business with Aerion. Valarr was good. That was what mattered. Little men like his cousin wanted only attention. He would get it.. but not from you, you decided. You would remain cordial, but you refused to give in to him.

You heard rustling from outside of your quarters.. and then talking. The words were muffled through the fabric of the tent, but it was still loud enough to keep you awake. You were almost grateful to hear something. Something to distract you from your own thoughts. Even if it came at the expense of precious hours of sleep before the jousting resumed in the morning.

You groaned as you sat up in bed, rubbing the exhaustion from your eyes as you rose onto your feet. You'd changed into a comfortable nightgown. Thin and breathable, but still modest enough for a lady of your status. You peeked out of your quarters and into the main, private section of the Redwyne tent. Your fathers sleeping space was close to your own. A guard remained posted at the entrance to your room, but he did not even turn to look at you.

The young man's gaze was focused on something else. You followed it, and your eyes landed on a young boy. Bald.. he could not be older than nine or ten. He sat across from your father, his hands folded over his lap as he sat in a chair far too big for him. You squinted. The colors on his doublet.. red and black. The colors of the dragon house. You nearly sighed at even the sight of it. What could have possibly happened now?

You tried to lean closer in an attempt to listen to their conversation. Your fathers arms rested on the table, his jaw clenched together.

"There will be a Trial of Seven." The boy— the prince— said.

"A Trial of Seven?" Your father repeated.

The little prince's head bobbed. He looked nervous. Scared. "My brother, Aerion. He attacked an innocent puppeteer earlier this evening. He broke her finger." He explained.

Your father's eyes narrowed, and he shifted in his seat. You searched through your memory for information on the Trial of Seven. It was an old practice. You knew that from your studies. Though the specific details of it were lost on you. You thought one had happened over a hundred years ago, but you could not remember the participants. You supposed it wouldn't be very helpful.

"Ser Duncan the Tall— he protected the innocent, as every true knight should. He punched Aerion, and then kicked him. He is injured, but his injuries are not so severe." He told your father.

"Who?" Your father asked, brows furrowed.

You couldn't recall the name of the knight either.

"He is a noble hedge knight." He offered simply.

Your father blinked. "He.. what?"

"Ser Duncan needs six other men to fight with him in the trial against my brother and his six." The prince continued, completely brushing over your father's words. He sat just a little straighter in the chair. "I.. have come to ask if you would fight for him."

"Me?"

The prince nodded again.

Your father chuckled, shaking his head. "I stopped fighting a long time ago, little one." He breathed out.

"You were a great knight. A great jouster."

"I was." He agreed.

"But you won't fight for him?"

He sighed. His hand pressed into his knee, his thumb rubbing circles against the fabric of his pants. "A Trial of Seven.. that means fight until death or surrender."

"It does." The prince confirmed.

Your father wet his lips, staring off at the ceiling above him. "How many do you have?" He asked.

".. One."

He turned his head to look back at him. "One?" He repeated.

"Two.. if you join us. I have others to ask, I.. haven't gotten to them yet."

"Seven help us," your father whispered under his breath.

A pit formed in your stomach. Your father was a talented knight in his time. Though it had long passed. He hadn't even jousted anymore, for your mothers fear was too great. How would she feel if she could see him now? It didn't matter, you thought grimly. She has been dead for years.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. He was honorable, and kind. He was just.

"Please." The prince said softly. "Ser Duncan.. he should not lose his life because he did what was right."

Your father stared back at him, unmoving. The boy held his breath. You glanced at the guard who stood next to you. He could not seem to tear his attention away. You couldn't blame him for it.

He sighed, pressing his lips together. "I brought my armor." He breathed out. The prince's shoulders relaxed. Yours tensed. "I did not know why. I have not worn it in years." He chuckled. "I suppose I knew. I would need it." He paused. "I will fight for your.. Ser Duncan the Tall, Prince Aegon. You have my word." He murmured.

You watched the young boy. He wore a smile, clearly relieved. "It begins upon the morrow, at the tourney field." He told him.

"I will be there." Your father replied.

You couldn't listen to any more of their conversation.

You slipped back into your room, your breathing heavy and your heart even heavier. Your father had agreed to fight. A little prince had come to him, out of all of the other men at the tourney. Your father was not a particularly young man anymore. The Gods were cruel, you thought. The old and the new. What sort of God would let this happen? Perhaps it made you selfish. You could not find it within yourself to care about that at all. Not now— not when your father's life would be in danger.

You could not sleep, no matter how hard you tried to. Your mind raced with thoughts of the future. Of Aerion. Of Valarr. Of your own father.

You wished you had never come to Ashford.

The morning came slowly.

It had come up upon you quietly. The air was different. People were quieter as they walked by. The cheer of the previous day had completely diminished, and it had been replaced with something much heavier.

You felt nothing but dread as you forced yourself out of bed. Your father was not even aware of your presence last night, you were sure.. and the conversation that you anticipated was not one you looked forward to. You wondered if he would try to soften the blow, as he used to do when you were a girl. He had left thirteen years ago to fight in the Blackfyre rebellion. You were not sure what it all meant at the time. You knew only that he would be gone, and that there was a chance that he would never return.

Your ladies helped to dress you again. There was no chatter from them, and they looked up at you with sad eyes as if they already knew what was to happen. You couldn't stomach looking at them, so you kept your gaze focused on the fabric of the tent that surrounded you, your expression entirely blank.

You walked out of your quarters, your hands held together in front of you. You wore a beautiful purple gown— the color representative of the grapes of your houses sigil— and matching thin gloves that went up to your mid arm. You could not bare the idea of even seeing your father. You knew that you needed to. The conversation that was to come would be an important one.. and you could not afford to have regrets, should something go awry in the trial. You had half the mind to try to convince him to back out. You knew him better than that, though. Once he had set his mind to something, there was no changing it.

Your father wore his armor already.

He was fixing his vambraces when he set his eyes on you, and he stared at you with a small smile. You couldn't return it. You stood there wordlessly watching him. You couldn't move, and you could not think of anything to say. You didn't know what to say. You weren't supposed to know what was happening at all, but you knew your father already that you were aware of it all.

"How much did you hear, daughter?" He finally spoke, voice breaking through the silence.

"Enough." You murmured, your lips pressed together. You pulled at the end of your glove with a thumb, biting at the inside of your cheek.

He nodded. He sucked at his teeth for a moment, then moved to sit. "Come." He told you, gesturing to the chair across from him. You couldn't argue, and so you did as you were told and joined him at the table. You sat in the same seat the little prince had been in last night.

"Then you know what is to happen?"

"Why are you doing this?" You asked him, your brows knitted together. "This is hardly your problem to solve, father."

"Perhaps not, but the boy was right. The hedge knight did what all sworn knights are supposed to do."

You rubbed your forehead, squeezing your eyes closed as you leaned into the table. "This has nothing to do with you—" you argued.

"It has everything to do with me." He retorted quickly. "If I do not fight, who will? Who will stand up for what is right?" He asked you, his expression mirroring your own. You looked up at him through a gap in your fingers.

"I would hope someone else." You replied.

"You are not so naive, my daughter." He whispered sadly.

"No." You admitted after a long moment of silence. "This is not fair."

Your father chuckled, a reassuring grin on his lips. "Life is not fair." He told you. He'd told you the same sentence a long time ago back home on the island of the Arbor. Life was not fair, but it was surely much simpler then.

"I.. are you sure about doing this? I am sure they would understand if you were to decide against it."

"I am sure." He said firmly. His tone left no room for argument, and you slumped into your seat. You felt like a little girl again.

"You told me only yesterday that I was your only daughter. You said that you worry for me, and—"

"This is different."

"Is it?" You replied, eyes narrowed as you watched him. "Just as I am your only daughter, you are my only father. The only one I have ever known— the only one I will ever have. Just as you worry for me, I worry for you. It has been years since you have even picked up a sword, and now you.. you go charging off to face House Targaryen in a trial that does not end until surrender or death."

Your father said nothing.

"It has been years, father. Where does this come from?"

He pressed his lips together, and took in a breath. It was clear that he did not expect you to question him so intently.

"It is the right thing to do. That's all there is. Does there have to be more?" He asked you quietly, eyes finding your own once again.

"It feels like there should be." You admitted. You knew in your heart that there was nothing else. No ulterior motive. No reason for him to join in an attempt to gain something. It was possible he could lose his life in this battle. Your father was not the type to fight for glory. But for honor.. you turned your gaze down.

"It will be all right." He murmured. You heard him stand, but you could see nothing through your blurry vision. Your eyes had begun to well up with tears. Tears that you hadn't even noticed at all when they had started to form. You felt his hand take your own from your lap, but you could not feel the warmth of his skin through his armor. You sniffled. He used his other hand to lift your chin.

"Look at me, daughter." He said, forcing a smile. You moved your head up to find his face through your emotions. "I promise you.. it will be all right."

You nodded, lifting your free hand to attempt to wipe your cheeks dry.

You knew that promises were empty. They could never truly be kept, even if the one making the promise intended to do so. Life was unfair, you thought again, and the Gods were cruel.

"Smile." He chuckled, tucking a hair behind your ear. "It will give this old man the courage he needs to face his foes." He joked. You managed a smile at that comment. He would always find a way to cheer you up, even in the most impossible of scenarios.

"You have the courage, father. You need nothing from me."

"I'd like to see my girl smile." He replied, his gaze softening as he set it upon your face. He looked at you for a long moment— almost like he was memorizing your features before it was too late. You pushed that thought aside. He would see you again. The Gods would smile upon him.

"Come with me to the tourney field. See me off. But don't stay to watch." He spoke again. "I'm sure the sights will not be pretty." He chuckled dryly.

"You'd prefer I leave you?"

"You should not have to see fourteen men beat each other bloody." He stated simply. "You are a lady, and—"

"A grown one, father. I will do as I please."

He nodded. "I expected nothing less. You're a lot like your mother, in that sense."

"And a lot like you, I'm afraid."

"That's enough." He laughed, rolling his eyes. He knew you were right. He was always a stubborn man, and he'd only proved it even further with his refusal to even think about backing out of the trial. You pressed your lips into a small smile, hoping it was enough to quell his worries. You knew it wasn't enough to help yours.

You stepped out of the tent and into the grass outside. The air was still warm, but the atmosphere was different. Ever since last night, it seemed that everything had changed. You supposed it would be more surprising if nothing had changed at all. The first Trial of Seven was being held in the last one hundred years. This moment would be in history books. The name of your father would be there. You could only hope that his name was not accompanied with a sentence describing how he died in the fighting.

You walked with your father towards the tourney field, your arm wrapped around his own. You let yourself wish for a moment that he would change his mind on the way there, but he remained entirely silent. His armor fit him a bit tighter than it used to, you noticed. You swallowed the lump in your throat and turned away.

A crowd had already gathered. Noble lords and ladies filled the stands once again. Small folk littered the grasses around the mud. The jousting lanes had been completely removed, and all you could see was a flat, empty field. A few other figures gathered together. You saw the antlered helm of Lyonel Baratheon even from where you stood. Was he fighting for this hedge knight? If the young prince had managed to find skilled knights to help.. perhaps everything would turn out fine.

Your father glanced at you. "Are you sure you wish to stay?"

You could not respond. You didn't wish to watch anyone get hurt. Especially your father.

He lifted an armored hand to your face, and rubbed your cheek as gently as he could. "My daughter.. I will see you after this has ended." He smiled. "You should return to the tent." He told you softly. You could only bring yourself to nod.

"May.. may the Warrior watch over you, father."

"Thank you." He murmured. He lingered for a moment, but he did manage to turn on his heel and walk towards the others in the distance. Your jaw clenched, and you sniffled. You were left completely alone, now. You stood there, watching him leave. You felt a weight in your chest. You tried your best to push it aside.

You did not want to be in the stands, surrounded by strangers. It was one thing to be there with your father, but you could not bare to see them treat him like a spectacle. Your feet remained anchored in place.

Aerion must have assaulted that puppeteer almost immediately after he'd left you by the stream. You wondered why he had done it. The prince had left out what had led up to it. You doubted that it would matter. Aerion was vain and cruel. He needed no real reason to attack someone. He had most likely decided to do it because he was bored. Perhaps he wanted to take his anger out on someone. A commoner— because you were a noble woman. You felt guilty.

You forced yourself to move. The walk back to the Redwyne pavilion was long and quiet. Most had gone to watch the carnage of the trial, and you had almost turned back once you were halfway there. Your father would not wish for you to see it, and you didn't want to make him worry about you when he should be worrying about himself. You told yourself that you returned to the tent for his sake, but deep down, you knew it was mostly for your own.

You sat down outside, tossing your gloves onto the nearest table. The bench you rested on had become familiar to you over the past few days. You sighed and leaned back into the wood behind you. All you could think about was the trial. Your chest felt tight as you tried to force your muscles to relax, but no matter how hard you thought about it, it did not come.

"My lady?"

Your eyes opened quickly, and you returned to a formal posture befitting of a lady.

Valarr.

He stared back at you with beautiful mismatched eyes. He was not wearing his armor. You blinked.

"I.. my prince." You whispered back to him. "What are you doing here?"

"The same as you, I suppose." He replied. His shoulders were not as straight as they usually were. His shoulders slouched. His gaze was not as warm as it was yesterday. Something was wrong. "I wished to.. escape the trial." He chuckled dryly.

"I had assumed you would fight for your cousin." You admitted. Valarr shook his head. He bit at the inside of his cheek, and moved a bit closer to you. You shifted in your seat, giving him enough room to join you on the bench. He joined you without hesitation. His shoulder brushed against yours.

"My uncle wished for it, I'm sure. But Aerion has his six without me." He told you softly. He hadn't turned to look at you. His attention remained on the trees in the distance.

"You.. do not want to watch?"

"I do not."

"I understand." You breathed out, turning your eyes to the ground. You picked at the skin around your nails anxiously, your thoughts lingering back to your father.

"My father fights for Ser Duncan." Valarr admitted.

You looked up at him. "What?"

"I tried to convince him otherwise. He did not wish to hear of it. He asked for my armor. I let him have it." He continued, his voice only getting quieter the more he talked. He almost looked ashamed. "I should have offered to fight in his place."

"Valarr," you whispered his name. You rested your hand on top of his own. Only then did he turn to face you. You did not know how he managed to get more handsome with every time you saw him. You had never seen him this close, either.

Freckles. He had freckles.

You paused, your lips parting as your eyes trailed over his features. You finally came to your senses. Your face hot under his gaze.

"My father.. he fights for the hedge knight as well." You said. "I tried to do the same. But.. he is as stubborn as they come. He was set on it."

"It seems.. both of our fathers are fools, then."

"They are good men." You whispered instead.

Valarr sniffled, but nodded. You knew it was something he was aware of already. You said nothing else. The birds were eerily quiet, and the only thing you could hear was the sound of the wind blowing through the trees.

"I should have volunteered myself. I should have insisted I fight." He broke through the silence after a long few moments. "I should not have let my father.."

"Valarr.. I cannot pretend to know your father." You started, your thumb rubbing the back of his hand. "Though if he is anything like mine.. he would not have let you. Men are.. set in their ways. And they are protective of their sons." You whispered.

You watched him chew at the inside of his lip. You couldn't tell what he was thinking. You couldn't pretend to even have the faintest idea of what was going on in his head.

"You are probably right." He admitted after a pause. He smiled suddenly, laughter escaping from his lips. "My jousts.. the opponents I face— they are never men of great renown. They are all old. Knights who have long passed their prime." Valarr muttered, a sigh escaping from him. "I have never known why. I have wished to be paired against true fighters for as long as I have been able to hold a lance, let alone compete in a tourney. But it has never happened. I have always wondered if my father was behind it."

You watched him silently, wordlessly. You comforted him through touch alone, your skin against his. His hand was shaking. You grasped it just a bit tighter.

"My father is a great knight himself. He is a war veteran. He fought at the Redgrass field. And what has his son done? Defeated old men in a game they barely qualify for?" He wondered aloud. "What could I have done in this trial?" He whispered to himself. "I have no real experience. I would have made myself look like a fool."

You could not come up with anything to say. Your eyes found his. His gaze softened as he looked back at you.

"You are right. He would not have let me fight." He concluded.

You were entirely unaware of everything he had told you. You would not have known that his jousts were played up if he had not admitted it to you. It was clear it was something he hated. Fathers would go to great lengths to protect their children. Just as yours had done for you.

"Did Aerion.." He broke the silence once again. "Did he do anything to you?"

You should have seen this coming. "He.. paid me a visit by the Cockleswhent last night." You told him. You did not want to worry him any further. You knew he carried a heavy weight today. Though you doubted that he would wish for you to hide anything from him. Even if it was done for good a good reason.

"What happened?"

"He.. asked me if I was bored of you." You told him truthfully.

He nodded. He said nothing in response. You didn't know if it was because he had nothing to say, or because he did not know what to say at all. It was still clear he was upset by the look on his face.

"I am not bored of you." You confessed to him, your voice barely louder than a whisper. "If I was, I would not be sitting here with you now."

"What else?" Valarr asked you quietly.

You looked towards the sky. It was gray and cloudy. Not an ounce of sunlight slipped through. The air was still warm, but a chill nipped at your skin regardless. "He told me that he would not bore me. That he could give me whatever I wished for." You paused.

"Did he touch you?" He whispered. He sounded worried. Fearful. Almost afraid to hear your answer.

"No." You shook your head. "He.. touched my hair. His lips barely felt my skin."

Valarr watched you, a sadness in his eyes. You adored his eyes. You could not stand to see him looking so upset.

"He has touched you." He concluded. "I am sorry." He breathed out, wetting his lips. "It was a risk— asking you for your favor. I should have known that it would attract his attention. He has never been fond of me. I.. should have expected for him to stoop so low."

"This is not your fault." You said, your voice soft but still firm.

"If I had not—"

"I would not change it." You told him. "I would give you my favor again. Even if it meant dealing with Aerion a million times over. I would do it all over again."

He let out an unsteady breath, but his eyes did not leave yours. "What have I done to deserve that?" He asked you.

You chuckled. "You have been yourself."

He stared back at you. You felt exposed under his focus too, but Valarr did not make you uncomfortable like Aerion had. He never did. He made you feel like a blushing young girl instead of the grown woman you were. No one else had ever managed to make you feel so flustered by merely a look.

"Stay with me, Valarr." You found yourself saying. He looked at you, expression unreadable. "Stay.. until we know our fathers are well."

He said nothing for a long moment.

His shoulder bumped against yours.

"Stay." He repeated. "I think I can do that."

You smiled up at him. He returned it.

In spite of it all, you knew that this one was genuine.

notes: this part is about 4.8k words! i had a lot of fun with this one. i'm still not sure what i want to do about baelor's fate. i think it could still be interesting for him to die, but i don't want to take away from anything else either. let me know your thoughts!

like i said in the author's note at the beginning of this chapter, life lately has been so hectic i haven't really had the time to write. i hate leaving you all hanging, but i do appreciate all of the kind words and reassurances. i don't like taking forever to update things i know people are looking forward to, but life sometimes has other plans. thank you all for your love and support both for my writing, and for me as a person. i see all of your comments and they all mean the world to me.

You took in a breath. The air out here was wonderful. You've traveled all over the Seven Kingdoms in your years, performing and dancing wherever you could. From the sands of Dorne to the snow of the North, you'd seen it all. Nothing could compare to the sweetness of the Reach. Bigger cities, while more profitable, were often crawling with vermin. The most evil of men lurked in the corners of King's Landing and Lannisport, and so you wished to stay away from them. Travel made living comfortably hard, but you wished to keep your peace of mind. It was nicer to not have to look over your shoulder no matter where you went.

The morning was slow. The jousting didn't start until nightfall on the first night of the tourney, you remembered hearing someone say, and so it was awfully quiet until the sun reached its peak in the sky. People would mingle. Lords and ladies passed you by, and none would say a word. You were happy with it that way. You didn't owe them anything, this time. All you had to do was perform well, and Lord Lyonel would pay you for it. He never said how much, but given his status.. you could only assume it would be well worth your time.

Besides, it was nice to finally sleep in a real tent. You'd become more familiar with the grass and mud over the last few moons. If it were to rain, you wouldn't be soaked. It was almost as if you were dreaming.

You dressed yourself quickly for the celebration. A loose fitting, beautiful golden dress was provided to you, which made you match the colors of House Baratheon. It was breathable and comfortable, but not too inviting. You were glad for it. While on the road, you'd gotten used to wearing whatever you could find, even if it was.. more revealing than you'd hope for. You wished you could keep it. You doubted you'd be sticking around to do so, though.

Lord Lyonel's tent was already filled with party goers when you arrived. They were mostly other nobles, but you could spot the occasional commoner amongst the crowd. People tended to care less about status when they were in places like this. Everyone was the same in the eyes of a drunk man, you noticed.

You slipped by with ease. Though you were an experienced dancer, this was the first time a noble lord had essentially hired you to perform for them and their guests in an event like this one. The Baratheon lord was laughing and smiling, wearing a beautiful antlered crown atop his head. He seemed content with letting you do as you pleased, and you didn't think interrupting him would be a good idea.. so you decided to do what you do best.

A few of the other ladies were within the tent too. Each of them had the attention of a few others scattered about. You spotted a few golden dragons in the hand of one of the men. You could survive off of the money from this for a long time. You took in a breath. You put on your warmest, most welcoming smile and began to dance through the crowd.

You could never remember doing it.

It was exhilarating and wonderful and exciting, but you could never remember the actual dancing. You knew that you loved it, and that people loved it, and that was all that you needed.

You involved a few members of the crowd, taking their hands into your own and twirling them around the tent with you, completely enveloped in laughter. You let go of the young woman you'd been dancing with, letting her return to her friends that you'd stolen her from. You offered her a playful wink as she left, and she returned it with a grin of her own. You'd never get tired of it.

You turned on your heel.

Coming through the front flaps of the tent was the largest man you'd ever seen. He had to be taller than Lord Lyonel, and the man was as much of a giant as you could imagine. He had brown hair, and pretty blue eyes that pierced through the light. You didn't hesitate in your decision to meet him. You knew you wanted to, and you saw no reason as to why you shouldn't.

You continued to dance through the crowd, making your way towards the tall stranger as he entered the tent. You reached him quickly, though you'd have to admit you pushed your way through a few people to get to him. You came to a stop in front of him, a smile on your lips as you craned your head to look up at him. You extended a hand out to him, and he stared back at it.

"Dance with me, ser." You said warmly.

He blinked, his lips parting as he watched you. His eyes shifted across your face, then to your hand, and back to your face. "I.. I don't dance, m'lady.." He insisted. His voice was low, but soft. It wasn't so much of a total refusal as it was an attempt at avoidance.

"Oh, come on. Everyone dances."

"I'll.. I'm not a dancer. I'll step on your toes."

"You wouldn't be the first. Let this be a welcome to Lord Lyonel's tent. Just a moment, and then I'll leave you alone, ser." You retorted quickly, a sweet look in your eyes that he seemed to have trouble saying no to. You watched as he swallowed, his chest rising and falling with the breath he took. "I won't bite," you chuckled.

"I.. of course not, miss."

"So?"

"So—"

"Dance with me." You replied before he could say anything else.

The stranger kept his eyes focused on your hand. ".. Alright. I'm.. really not the best at dancing." He said again.

"I'm sure I've seen worse." But not taller, you thought. "Come."

His expression told you that he doubted those words, but he didn't argue. You took his hand into your own. His skin was rough from what had to be years of hard work and sword wielding. You took him to be a knight. He certainly seemed like the sort.. but he also seemed much kinder than many of the knights you'd met. You supposed this tournament was filled with surprises.

The knight hadn't lied to you. He wasn't a great dancer. It was clear he wasn't used to it. He was probably more familiar with a shield than a dance, but you couldn't help the wide smile on your lips. He stared at you as you spun, awkwardly trying to keep himself from stepping on your feet. He'd done a good job of it so far. Many other men were often so drunk or so careless that it didn't matter to them. This one had put in the effort.. and it meant something to you, at the very least.

By the time you'd finished the dance, you were breathless and completely flushed. The stranger seemed to feel the same, the palm of his large hand pressed against his even larger chest as he looked down at you. Somehow, you'd managed to have more fun with him than with anyone else at the tourney.

"You aren't too bad." You told him, a playful glint in your eye.

"What?"

"You heard me, ser."

"I.." he glanced away from you, but you could still see the smile on his lips. Small, but there all the same. "Thank you, m'lady. I.. didn't want to disappoint."

"I would've been disappointed if you'd said no. Not if you were a horrible dancer." You chuckled, hands resting comfortably on your hips. You could tell he was looking at your dress, but his gaze didn't linger for long. You pursed your lips and tilted your head. "What's your name, ser?" You finally asked.

He froze up for a moment, hesitating. "Dun.. Ser Duncan the Tall." He stood up just a bit straighter once he'd said his name, making him look even more massive than he already was.

"The Tall, hm?" You replied, nodding as you looked him up and down. "It's an accurate description."

"I—"

"But it's a good thing. To embrace it." You finished.

"Is it?"

"Why wouldn't it be? It's a part of you, isn't it? It's.. not like it's something that can be hidden."

"Ha.. no, you're right." He chuckled dryly, his tongue wetting his lips as he turned his head to the floor. For a man so imposing, he certainly seemed to lack confidence. You could only imagine why. You were certain that he was a spectacle in every room he entered. You noticed him quickly, and you knew everyone else did too.

"Well.. Ser Duncan the Tall," you hummed, "I'm glad to have met you."

"And I you, m'lady."

You smiled. "I should get back to it." You gestured back to the crowd. No one seemed to have noticed that you'd stopped dancing to talk, but you didn't know if you'd be paid if you kept doing it.

"Right.. yeah, me too." He nodded.

You turned, but you didn't make it even a step before he stopped you.

"I.. will you be here again on the morrow?" He asked.

"Every day, until the tourney ends."

"Alright." He said.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Ser Duncan." You teased.

He watched you walk away, the sound of his own aching heart beating against his ribcage filling his eardrums.

It wasn't as though you were ever interested in finding one. The idea of being married off to a stranger wasn't incredibly pleasant to you, but you let your father do as he pleased. Every now and then, he would attempt to slyly bring up the name of a young knight with a suitable amount of land in some other region in hopes you would agree to meet them. You were never the most receptive to his ideas, but you would always agree to avoid breaking his heart. Some knights would look at you with wide, terrified eyes and shaking hands. You'd offer a smile, but they would always end up dismissed before the night was through, much to your father's dismay. They were few and far between. More commonly, other men would spend their time with you boasting about themselves and their feats in an attempt to impress you. It did nothing of the sort, and only made disguist rise within you.

The day was long already, but the night was filled with jousting. The sound of cheering and the splintering of wood filling your ears would be present long after the night was done and well into the next morning, you imagined. You sat next to your father in the stands, hoping and praying to the Mother that no injury would befall any of the knights or lords in front of you. Jousting was a dangerous, violent thing. Even if rules were in place, you knew accidents could happen to anyone.

You watched Lord Lyonel Baratheon unhorse Ser Robert Ashford. You'd seen him before, the Laughing Storm. You understood where the moniker came from, and you swore the man never stopped laughing.. even when the end of Ser Robert's lance broke violently against his shield. He finally unhorsed the younger Ashford son after ten tilts, which your father noted was a most impressive feat. Lord Lyonel was a massive man, built sturdier than a wall and taller than anyone you'd ever met. Anyone who lasted so long against him was certainly skilled in their own right.

Ser Tybolt Lannister unhorsed the older of the Ashford sons, Androw. Both he and his brother were named champions for his sister, Gwin. It was too bad they were both defeated, but they'd lasted longer against the older men than most would.

Among the other champions was Lord Leo Tyrell, nicknamed 'Longthorn' for his skill as a jouster. Many believed him one of the best in Westeros, and you knew no one who would argue. Ser Humfrey Hardyng was another of Gwin Ashford's champions, and a tourney knight of incredible renown. In a melee the year before, you recalled him unhorsing a member of King Daeron's Kingsguard, Ser Donnel of Duskendale. It was a great feat, no one could deny it.

The final champion was Prince Valarr Targaryen, second in line to the Iron Throne and son of Baelor. You knew little about him, in truth. You knew that he was to be king one day. You supposed hearing less about him was probably a good thing. You knew more of his cousins— Prince Maekar's sons— who seemed.. less than savory. Prince Aerion was rumored to be cruel whenever he was away from his fathers watchful eye. Valarr was unknown to you, and you liked it that way.

The first knight of jousting was mostly uneventful. There were no injuries, much to your pleasure. Your father watched the jousts eagerly, with a smile on his lips. You often wondered if he missed jousting. In his age, he'd stopped doing it himself some time ago. Your mother was like you in insisting that it was dangerous, and she didn't want him meeting an early end. So, he reluctantly agreed, and he hadn't picked up a lance since. You were sure he missed it. There was always a sparkle in his eye when he watched it. You wouldn't have been surprised if he'd went down to the jousting lanes himself, picked up a lance, and challenged the nearest man.

Your father stopped to speak to Lord Leo Tyrell as you were leaving the stands, which left you to wander back through the mud to your tent. A few guards trailed after you, watching over your shoulder with every step you took. Their presence was heavy, and it had always been annoying. You understood that sometimes it was necessary, but you doubted it was here. You were hardly the focus of the evening, and so you were confident in your own navigation skills.

"Leave me, sers." You turned on your heel after a few minutes. You didn't want to go to bed immediately. After a night filled with so much adrenaline, you doubted that you'd be able to sleep even if you wanted to. The knights looked at each other, and then back at you. They were young, you knew. Perhaps your age. You raised a brow, and gestured for them to leave again. "Should something happen, you will be the first to know of it. I shall scream." You said, if only to make them feel a bit better about leaving their post.

".. Very well, Lady Redwyne." The taller of the two responded with a hesitant nod. He walked off after a pause, and the other followed in his footsteps.

A sigh escaped your lips, and a weight lifted from your chest as you watched their armored backs disappear into the crowd. You managed a smile. You were finally alone for the first time since arriving at Ashford, and you were thankful for it. It didn't seem like your mind was really able to clear in all of the chaos of the tourney, but things were finally beginning to calm down and many had started the trek back to their respective tents after the jousting had ended for the night.

You picked up the end of your dress, beginning to walk through the various tents. You had no set destination in mind. You only knew that you wanted to wander. It wasn't perhaps the smartest idea for a lady of your standing, but the thought of it was far from your mind as you passed through crowds of lords and common folk alike. It was a pleasant sight. Nothing brought the realm together quite like a tournament.

Your feet carried you through the various gatherings and down towards the river. The Cockleswhent, if you remembered correctly. It was more of a stream than a river and you knew that you would reach the Mander if you were to follow it long enough. You might not have enjoyed the journey to Ashford itself, but you did enjoy being near the water. Being on it was an entirely different story. Even if you'd grown accustomed to it. As a Lady of House Redwyne, you had to travel away from the Arbor and across the whole of Westeros many times through the years. You loved seeing just how different every region was. It was perhaps your favorite part of the traveling.

You were sure the ends of your dress were becoming covered in mud by the time you'd reached the shore. You didn't have the energy to care, and you knew that the material could always be washed. If not completely cleaned, then replaced. It was a luxury, and you knew it. Many could not afford a dress like the one you wore. Many could not afford a dress at all.

You blew your hair from your face, and stared off at the water. The sound of the stream rushing by was a reassuring once. The tourney would be over within the next week, at most. Your father would find a few more potential suitors for you, you would brush them aside, and then you would return home. It would be the same as it always was.

You could still hear some chatter in the distance. You hadn't wandered too far from the tourney grounds, and it would be easy for you to find your way back towards your family's tent when your mind was thoroughly cleared.

A branch cracked in the woods behind you, and you jumped onto your feet.

You hadn't realized how easy it would be for someone else to find you, though.

You blinked, your breath caught in your throat. The moon did little to light the space in front of you— the leaves of the trees overhead were simply far too dense for it to pierce— and you froze in place. Should you say something? Or hide?

"My lady?"

The voice was an unfamiliar one. You swallowed, suddenly being pulled back into the reality of the moment.

The stranger wore armor. Dark and detailed, clearly well loved but also well taken care of. The darkness didn't do much to help you to make out his features or any recognizable crests.. not at this distance, anyway.

"Ser." You greeted after a pause and a respectful bow of your head.

"You're alone?" He responded, taking a few steps closer towards you.

"I'm.. afraid so, ser."

"That's awfully dangerous." He replied. Even in the dark, you could hear the smile on his lips.

"Well, I.. I've been all right so far." You informed. You saw him nod, and watched his head turn to the side, watching the flow of the stream that ran beside where you stood. He looked back to you after only a moment or two.

"Lady.. Redwyne, isn't it?"

"I.. am, yes."

"Forgive my manners." He started after a pause. "Prince Valarr Targaryen."

He stepped forward again, and your heart fell into your chest.

Valarr. The Targaryen prince you knew absolutely nothing about. You weren't sure if the lack of information about him was a good thing or not, but if he was anything like his cousin.. you weren't sure you wanted to stick around and find out.

In this new angle, he was much clearer. He had brown hair, much like his father, with a singular streak of white that you cursed yourself for not noticing in the dark. The Targaryen three headed dragon was emblazoned on his breast plate. You looked up at him as he took your hand. He lifted it to his lips, and pressed a chaste kiss to your knuckles. You watched him wordlessly, and his gaze met yours. His eyes were beautiful, you noticed. Not the traditional Valyrian violet, but equally as fascinating. Blue and brown.

"My.. prince." You forced out. His hand lingered in yours for a moment too long before he let it return to your side.

"My lady." He replied. "I'm pleased to finally meet you."

"Finally?" You asked before you could stop yourself. He chuckled, his hand resting against the pommel of the sword at his belt.

"Finally." He repeated. "I've heard much about you."

"I hope it.. has been nothing distasteful."

"Nothing of the sort." Prince Valarr reassured with a smile to match his words. "I've heard of your beauty. The tales do not do you justice. You're far more beautiful in person."

Your breath hitched, and it was your turn to laugh. Many men had said similar things in an attempt to win your hand in the past. The men your father had offered you as suitors were some examples. They never focused on you, and instead they had treated you as some prize to be won. Something about the way he said it felt.. different, somehow. You shoved the thought aside, tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear as you desperately attempted to ignore the heat rising to your face.

"That's.. you're very kind to say so, my prince." You told him.

"I'm only being honest." He said without missing a beat. You wanted to believe him. You found yourself doing exactly that, if only for a moment.

"Thank you."

"Of course." He replied with that same pretty smile. You've seen plenty of fake smiles over the years, and the one he wore didn't look anything like those. This seemed.. genuine. "If I may.." he continued, his soft voice breaking through the silence, "why are you out here alone, my lady? Where are your guards?"

"I.." you began, taking in a breath as you glanced away from him. You clasped your hands together in front of you, picking at the skin by your fingernails. The prince's gaze shifted to your hands as you did so, and his head tilted as he watched you. "I wished to be alone. Even for just a few minutes." You admitted, finding yourself unable to tell him anything but the truth.

His eyebrows raised. "I don't mean to interrupt."

"No, no. I'm grateful for your company, my prince. I'm honored." You spoke quickly, not wanting to give him the wrong impression. Even if you were perfectly content with not knowing him.. he didn't seem to be anything like his cousin, so far. Besides, it would be rude to turn down conversation with royalty. Let alone the future king of Westeros.

Prince Valarr laughed, his smile widening. You turned your head to meet his gaze and you saw nothing but kindness in his eyes. No malicious intent. No judgment. Nothing. "Don't worry," he said, "I don't mean to tease you. I understand wishing to be alone better than most, I'd imagine."

You hadn't thought of that. He'd spent the entire day and most of the night in the spotlight. As one of Lady Gwin Ashford's champions and a prince of the realm, you knew he would be getting plenty of attention. It must be overwhelming.

"I'm.. happy to be alone with you, then." You offered.

You watched as the corners of his lips turned upward, and a comfortable stillness fell over you. You'd never pictured your night going this way. You never would've guessed that you would be standing at the water's edge with a Targaryen prince, enveloped in a strangely pleasant moment.

You didn't know how long you stood there, but you knew it was he who spoke first.

"Thank you, my lady. Your company has been.. wonderful."

You chuckled. "Any time, my prince."

"Valarr, please."

Your throat felt dry, and your brow knitted together. "I couldn't."

"Please." He repeated, his eyes finding yours in the moonlight.

You couldn't say no to him.

"Valarr." You said. It felt unnatural to be so casual with him, but the look on his face was one of warmth and contentment.

"I'll find you again. On the morrow, before the lists."

"Wait, I—" You tried to interrupt.

"I'll be sure to ask for your favor, my lady." The prince finished. He grinned and pressed a kiss to the back of your hand. You watched him walk away, every attempt at speech falling flat. Your skin tingled. You could feel the ghost of his lips against your hand. You stared after him long after he was gone, your heart pounding in your chest.

You didn't know how long you stood there.

You only knew that jousting suddenly seemed much more exciting.

“A SONG OF ICE AND FIRE”

House Targaryen, “Fire and Blood”:

Prince Baelon Targaryen, "the Brave"

Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, "the Black Queen"

Queen Helaena Targaryen, "the Mad Queen"

Prince Jacaerys Velaryon

Prince Aegon Targaryen, "Egg"

Queen Daenerys Targaryen, "the Mother of Dragons"

House Hightower, “We Light the Way”:

Ser Otto Hightower

Queen Alicent Hightower, "the Green Queen"

Ser Gwayne Hightower

House Stark, “Winter is Coming”:

King Robb Stark, "the Young Wolf"

Lady Sansa Stark, "Little Bird"

Lord Commander Jon Snow, "the White Wolf"

House Martell, “Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken”:

Princess Elia Martell

House Tyrell, “Growing Strong”:

Ser Garlan Tyrell

House Lannister, “Hear Me Roar”:

Ser Jaime Lannister, "Kingslayer"

House Greyjoy, “We Do Not Sow”:

Theon Greyjoy

House Dayne

Ser Arthur Dayne, "the Sword of the Morning"

“Not All Men Were Meant to Dance with Dragons”:

Caraxes, "the Blood Wyrm"

The Cannibal, "Cain"

Sunfyre, "the Golden"

Misc:

Caracalla Waters, "the Smiling Knight"

Lord Petyr Baelish, "Littlefinger"

Brienne of Tarth

“LORD OF THE RINGS”

Elrond

Aragorn

Thorin Oakenshield

Smaug