You were so excited to have a daughter. When the babe was pulled from you and it began to wail, when the maesters declared her a healthy little girl, you wept from joy (and exhaustion of course). You held the pudgy little pink thing close when she had been cleaned and returned to your arms. You kissed her little head and waited excitedly to show Father.

When Baelor entered the room, he took a deep breath in at the sight of you. You were damp with sweat, your hair mussed and sticking up in an endearing way, but you were smiling happily and that was all he cared about. He kneeled down at your bedside as the maesters and septas turned away and pretended to busy themselves, and first pressed a long and warm kiss to your forehead.

"Meet little Marion," you told him softly, beaming up at him proudly. Baelor caressed your cheek, kissed you there, then looked properly down at the little bundle. He pressed a soft kiss to the babe's head, whispered her name close to her, and then wrapped the two of you up in his arms for a moment.

"Well done, my precious girl," he whispered to you, sighing as he bowed his forehead against yours and just stayed there for a moment.

The two of you lay together for a long time after you had been cleaned and cared for, watching your little babe with wide and wondrous eyes. The girl already enjoyed holding onto Baelor's finger tightly, her soft little fists staying clamped on just one of his large fingers. She was the most loved creature in the Red Keep, you knew it.

Over the next few weeks as you healed and recovered, Baelor took so much joy in your innocent happiness around your baby. Whenever he came to visit you in your bed, you would chatter on happily about how she blinked, how she snuffled, how she had looked at you properly that morning. In the evenings, when he came to lay beside you for rest, the two of you held the babe together and stared at her little features and pointed out all your discoveries to one another.

It was safe to say that both of you were immensely proud to have a daughter (even if she was proclaimed as Valarr's and not his...). Valarr too loved her in his own way, though he was immensely content to allow his own father to take charge of you and her.

Once you were healed and up and about around the Keep, you took your girl with you everywhere. You showed her all the places you loved to take refuge, all the spots where you annoyed Father and made him fall deeper in love with you. And unfortunately, that also meant going to all the places where whispers of your failed duty followed you.

"A girl for an heir... tut tut tut... I hope for their sake the next one is a boy and quick too."

"Did you see? It's a girl. I suppose that is good for the mother, but for the line of succession? Well, let's just be glad there are dragons no more."

"Rather a small babe is it not? Already a girl, and sickly now too? siiiigh"

The first time you heard it was in the gardens. Baelor was stuck in a long council meeting so you chose to take your Marion for a walk in the lovely sunlight. You wrapped her up well against any breezes off the bay, and then took her strolling.

The ladies having tea in the gazebo had not known you would be upon them as they discussed your shortcomings as a wife and mother. They did not see you clutch your bundle tighter to your chest, or the way your face fell and tears instantly began burning in your eyes. You gently kissed your babe's soft downy head and turned swiftly to head back to your chambers.

You laid her down in her bassinet, then sat in the rocking chair beside it and cried. You had been so excited to have your girl. You loved her and were so proud to have created her, and it felt like that excitement had been sucked out so quickly. Had you disappointed Father by having a girl? Was he disappointed that your first babe was Marion and not a boy?

You cried and cried, and when you had no more tears to cry, you went to your bed and quietly lay there until sleep finally claimed you.

For the next few days, you kept yourself in only the company of your babe. You cuddled her close and slept, or you took her to the windows or the balcony and back, but you did not leave her side. You did not want to risk going out of doors or venturing any places people might be discussing you and your failures.

Baelor noted your odd behaviour but did not think much of it at first. When he came to your chambers, you were already asleep, and he left too early in the morning for your state to be any different. You did not come to bother him during the day, whether on your lonesome or with your little darling in tow, but he simply assumed it was because you were too busy showing her off to everyone or monopolising her with your love. Though it was odd for you to not be throwing yourself at him (especially since you were now healed from the babe), he gave you the grace required for this new period.

Then one evening, when it had been four days of your absence in anything other than his bed, he decided to come find you early. He was determined to get you out of your chambers, to convince you to spend some time for yourself rather than being wrapped up in the babe (as he assumed you were) but everything was quickly derailed when he found you curled up on the floor at the foot of the bed, knees to your chest and hands pressed to your face as you sobbed.

Marion was sleeping soundly in the bassinet, and you were attempting to hush yourself, chewing on your lip as you dissolved into your cries, shaking violently. Baelor was quick to kneel down beside you, wrapping you up in his arms and hauling you into his lap.

He did not ask anything, did not begin an interrogation or any such thing, he simply kissed you on the top of your head and hushed you softly. "Hush, my girl, hush now."

You sobbed until your chest hurt and you could not make yourself cry any more. You clung tightly to Baelor, seeking his warmth and taking immense comfort in it. Being wrapped in Baelor's arms was everything you had wanted over the past week of your upset. Why had you denied yourself of it?

Baelor kissed the top of your head then simply placed his lips there. Your sobs softened into sniffles, and then you were clutching tight to his doublet and pulling your face back. Your eyes were red and puffy, your nose shiny as you made little cries. He frowned as he looked upon your face, gently wiping your cheeks with his thumbs, grazing them over your delicate undereyes as you caught your breath.

"What has upset you, dearest?" He finally asked, caressing your cheek back and forth with the pad of his thumb. You sniffled and looked down shamefully.

"People are talking about how disappointing it is for me to have had Marion," you finally sniffled out, lower lip trembling with the threat of more tears. You looked up at him with sparkling eyes full of pain and he gripped you a little tighter. "I heard some of the ladies talking, they said it was a shame that my first babe was a girl. She cannot inherit and there is no boy yet." You sniffled and your face began to crumple again as you said, "I was so proud of my girl, but I now fear I have disappointed you."

Baelor's face contorted with anguish as you began to cry again in earnest. He hushed you and brought your face back down to his chest. He ran his hand soothingly up and down your back as the other cupped the back of your head and kept you close to him.

"Do not listen to the vultures," he told you quietly, voice steely and serious. "A daughter is a joy. A daughter brings life and love to a house just by existing, there is no failing in Marion being a daughter." He kissed the top of your head as your cries calmed again, your eyes blinking quickly against his chest. "Though I love Valarr and Matarys beyond anything, I have always longed for a daughter. And to know that you, my darling, darling, girl provided me with such a sweet and beautiful one? It is more than any man can hope to achieve. You have made me immensely proud, my sweet girl."

You sniffled and pulled back, looking hopefully into Baelor's face. He was smiling sadly at you, watching your eyes begin to light up again as you haphazardly wiped at your face and leaned in close to him.

"You are proud of me, Father? Truly?" You asked, voice small and shaky, and he smiled as he nodded and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

"I could not be prouder," he whispered, kissing your other cheek, and you exhaled a long breath, smiling now too, though yours was watery and quivering. You leaned forward and delicately kissed his lips, the softest of presses.

"If you wish for more babes, to attempt for a son, then I would be loathe to deny you. I will give you as many as you wish," he added teasingly, and you giggled, nuzzling his cheek with your nose before hugging him fully and sighing by the side of his head.

"I want to have as many babes as there are rooms in this castle with you," you giggled by his ear, biting it lightly as he huffed out a chuckle before beginning to kiss down your neck. You shuddered at the feeling of his beard scraping your skin.

"A lofty goal," he murmured, and you simply hummed, cupping his face.

"Let's start now!" You told him excitedly, kissing him on the mouth as he smiled broadly.

+++

One Year Later

The Crown Prince carried a tubby toddler in his arms as he strolled through the gardens. The little princess was babbling happily, her small palms slapping against his bearded cheeks and feeling the hairs there as her mother often did. You strolled just behind them, waddling slowly as you accommodated the swelling of your belly. It was no surprise that you were pregnant once more.

The little princess was attempting to climb all over Baelor, wriggling in his arms to lift herself higher onto his shoulder, gripping at his hair or his nose, attempting to chew on his neck as she babbled happily.

"Spoilt for attention, just like her mother," Baelor mumbled, turning back to smirk at you as you gasped in offence (though you were smiling so brightly it held no bite).

It started quite suddenly in Valarr's mind. A rather normal night, slow and lazy, characterised by a cool breeze through King's Landing and halls flickering with firelight. The family was gathered for dinner, sitting around the table leisurely, utensils in hand as they dug into a roast or tore pieces of fresh warm bread.

Baelor sat at one end of the table, slumped a little in his chair as he grasped his cup of wine, sipping from it occasionally as he listened to you chatter about something with a soft smile. Valarr sat at the other end, and you and Matarys took up either side between them. The heir to the heir mirrored his father, sat low in his seat and drinking from his own cup.

"Well, perhaps you should try a squirt of lemon in your hair and sit in the sun if you want to have a streak like your brother's. I heard that is how the one brunette Lannister used to colour her hair to be more like the lion," you advised the young prince, smirking a little as you took another forkful of food in your mouth.

Matarys furrowed his brow as he looked at you and your shining eyes before glancing back to his father who was smirking behind his goblet.

"Is that true, Father?" He asked, putting down his fork in his enthusiasm. "Was there a brunette Lannister who did that?"

Baelor just chuckled and shook his head, reaching over and ruffling Matarys's hair as you giggled and took a sip from your wine.

"She is teasing you, my boy," Baelor answered softly, watching Matarys frown angrily and turn back to you.

"Why would you lie? I am being serious about this! No one will think I am a Targaryen if I do not have any white hair to show for it," he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and slumping down in his chair in an identical picture to his father and brother. Baelor raised an eyebrow, opening his mouth ready to speak when you beat him to it.

"Do you think your father any less Targaryen because he does not have the white hair?" You asked, putting your cutlery down and lacing your fingers together before resting your chin on them. You chewed slowly, raising an eyebrow at the boy as you waited for him to answer.

He had the good sense to look sheepish, shaking his head.

"Right, then why would you feel any less Targaryen because you do not have it either? It does not matter what other people think or say. You know who you are, you know who your family is, leave it at that, you silly thing," you chastised, smiling kindly at the boy before leaning back and refocusing on your plate.

Matarys smiled too, sitting up and going back to eating quickly, reigniting the hunger of a growing boy. Baelor watched you with soft eyes, nudging your foot under the table with his and happily taking in the sight of the smile you offered him.

"And if you even think to respond with the fact that your father does have white hair now, it is only because he is getting old," you added cheekily, giggling maniacally as you attempted to take a sip of your wine and noticed Baelor's grimace.

Valarr snorted out a laugh, almost choking on his wine. He sat up, putting his cup down hurriedly and grabbing his napkin to dab away the dribbled wine along his mouth and chin. You looked towards him with shining eyes for a moment, a flicker of pride at having engaged his attention, before you returned to paying attention to Matarys.

Valarr stared at you silently as he settled back in his chair, as if his eyes had been taken out, cleaned, and put back in their place. You were glowing in the firelight, your skin shining along your cheekbones and forehead. Your eyes were like jewels, your lips pretty plush things that were always stretched in a smile.

You were thoughtful, and quite funny, not to mention beautiful. He had always known you were beautiful, but he had not known the other things. Was it his own fault? Perhaps. Did he care now? No.

That evening, Valarr found himself seeking out your chambers after dinner. He had bedded you before, on the wedding night and once a moon after, but it had not happened for a long while.

He knocked on your door, waiting for a response, but there was none. He tried again, calling your name through the doors in case you were having a bath and did not hear him, but there was no sound behind the doors and no response. When he tried the doors, they had been barred from the inside, and he wondered if you had truly gone to sleep so early.

He sighed in defeat and left, but inside, he was undeterred.

+++

"Wife," Valarr sighed happily, relief painting him when he finally came upon you in the library. You were humming as you stood just inside the entrance, perusing the shelf for something in particular it seemed.

"Yes?" You asked, raising an eyebrow as you turned to look at him for a second before returning your attention to the shelf.

"I have brought you something," he told you excitedly, hands clasped behind his back.

"Oh, how lovely," you mumbled, smiling distractedly as you continued your perusal.

"Do you not wish to know what it is?" He asked expectantly, rocking backwards and forwards on his heels. You let out an 'aha!' and picked out one of the books on the shelf before holding it to your chest and turning back to him.

"What is it?" You asked quickly, walking closer and glancing in the direction of the door. He smiled triumphantly and held out his hand, a beautiful gold chain dangling from his hold, a large ruby carefully set in a medallion down the middle.

"Oh, how lovely," you told him, lips pursed as you nodded then began treading forward, hoping you could inch around him to get to the door.

"Come, come," he murmured, gently grasping you by the arms and steadying you in your place. "I'll put it on you," he said as he moved around you, shoving your hair over one shoulder and draping the necklace over your chest. You grimaced a little but allowed him to do it.

"Wow, thank you," you mumbled, attempting another smile. You touched it delicately, nodded, then began heading for the door once more. "I must be off."

"Where are you going?" He asked, brows furrowed and hands folding in front of him.

"I must get this to your father," you answered easily, shaking the book a little and smiling brighter than you had since the sordid conversation began. "Alright then!" You exclaimed, and then hurried out the door at a speed he did not know you were capable of.

You sighed a long sigh as you shut the door to Baelor's study behind you, leaning against it and shaking your head. He looked up and smiled a little, putting down his quill and leaning back in his seat as you pushed off and walked over to him. His eyes caught on the new (rather garish) jewellery hanging off your neck. You caught the look and shook your head, sitting sideways in his lap and tossing the book onto his desk.

"Don't even, Father," you huffed, wrapping an arm over his shoulders and pressing your face to his cheek. He chuckled, running a hand down your spine and draping the other arm over your lap to hold you tighter to him. "It is ugly and I hate it."

"I do not remember gifting you such a thing," he said, tone a little questioning. You sighed again, rubbed your nose against his beard, before pulling back and pouting as you looked him in the eyes.

"Your son just gifted it to me," you told him. One of Baelor's eyebrows raised, a shocked chuckle falling from his lips before he truly perceived that you were not in jest.

"Hm," he hummed, not saying anything else for a moment. Carefully, he reached up with the hand that had been traversing your spine and unclasped the necklace, dropping it onto his desk. "Perhaps he wishes to win your favour again," he teased, smirking a little.

You snorted, slapping him lightly on the chest and looking to him with a raised eyebrow.

"Hm, that will be the day," you responded sarcastically, rolling your eyes. "And anyway, I do not care for it. I have favour enough from those I want it from."

There was a proud, almost smug, glint to Baelor's eye when you said it, and he leaned in and kissed you firmly. You moaned a little against him, clutching at his collar happily and allowing him to lick into your mouth.

"Mmh," he pulled away from your lips, "you are far too distracting to have in my study," he sighed. But you just giggled, petting his beard and leaning in again.

"Mmm," you hummed happily, grazing his mouth with yours teasingly. "You love being distracted by me, Father." He did not say anything to agree or refute, but just kissed you again.

+++

"Will you come to watch me train in the yard this afternoon?" Valarr asked randomly one day over breakfast. His eyes were earnest as he watched you pick at your grapes and fiddle with the other fruit on your plate.

"Huh?" You asked distractedly, looking up from your plate.

Baelor watched the interaction carefully, face set in a stoic manner, betraying nothing. He picked up one of the grapes from his own plate and carefully brought it to his own mouth, chewing it slowly.

"Oh, yes, might as well," you answered before Valarr could repeat his question, your brain slowly catching up with you as you sipped from your cup of tea. "The day looks lovely," you added with a shrug, and Valarr smiled brightly, nodding and refocusing on his plate with a proud set to his shoulders.

You leaned back in your seat with a huff, crossing your arms over your chest, and then turned to face Baelor with a pout.

"I do not want to eat any more grapes, Father," you whined, reaching out with your foot under the table and placing it on his lap. Baelor sighed, taking your slipper off and dropping it to the floor before allowing you to rest your foot on his thigh. He had lectured you before about putting your shoes on his clothes but it seemed the lesson did not stick.

"You must eat properly," he ordered, looking down at your plate. "Finish the melons and the berries if nothing else." You pouted still but when he shot you a stern look you huffed and nodded, picking up a piece of melon with your fingers and quickly putting it in your mouth. Baelor smiled softly at you in thanks, and you practically melted in your seat, suddenly eager to finish the fruit.

You spent the rest of the morning meandering around the gardens and reading in the sunlight. You took your lunch in Baelor's study with him, curled up on one of the chairs across from his desk and lightly chewing on nuts and cured meats as you read a fascinating novel as he continued with his work.

When the afternoon arrived, you remembered your promise to watch Valarr at training and made your way slowly out to the yard. He was already there, dressed more plainly than you had ever seen him in a simple tunic and trousers. He had his sleeves rolled up to expose his strong forearms and his hair was particularly mussed.

He was already shining lightly with sweat, but he moved smoothly as if he still had loads of energy to spare. He was wielding his sword smoothly, circling around in the pit of sand with one of his lordling friends, weapons raised as they smirked at one another.

When he noticed your arrival, he paused and ruffled a hand through his hair, smiling broadly in your direction. His opponent took the opportunity, lunging and hooking one foot behind Valarr's, sending him toppling to the ground with a harsh thud.

You gasped, eyes going wide as you slapped your hand to your mouth to stifle your shocked giggles. You heard Valarr groan, curse out the other man, then shove himself back up to standing. He went a little red in the face and glanced back at you, smiling a little bashfully when he noticed your wide grin and the laughs you were still breathing out.

"Your prince is alright!" He yelled to you, attempting bravado, but you just bent over in a fit of giggles again and he cleared his throat and shot a glare at his friend who smirked wickedly.

"I'm sure he is! You only fell in the sand," you called back, smirking. He just shook his head and refocused on his training as you spotted a group of ladies sat around tables in the shade with glasses of lemonade, beckoning you over with bright smiles and calls of your name.

Baelor could not focus in his study knowing that you were outside watching Valarr. There was something about it that rose an uncomfortable sensation in his chest. He was not jealous, for jealousy was only a thing for young men and those too stupid not to see the good in their women, but still...

Under the pretence of stretching his legs, Baelor made his way around the Keep and to the balcony that looked out over the training grounds. He assumed he would find Valarr practicing in the sand without a care in the world and you draped on one of the chairs, head back and bored out of your mind.

Instead what he found was Valarr smiling brightly, showing off silly tricks and manoeuvres with his sword, smiling brightly in your direction. And you, sitting among a gaggle of other young ladies, laughing brightly and sipping a drink, eyes wholly focused on your husband. Something dark twisted inside Baelor and he clenched his hands on the bannister, staring at the scene for a moment before turning swiftly and heading back to his study.

+++

The feast was lively, full of music and dancing and an abundance of food. You watched everything with a bright expression, clapping along when a dance became particularly lively or a song particularly vibrant. You were easily humorous with wine and did not question how odd it was that Valarr was choosing to sit by your side rather than go off with his friends.

Baelor was tense in his seat beside the King, gripping his cup of wine tightly and imbibing a bit more than he normally would. Usually Valarr would be gone now and you would sidle up into his seat, casually draping your arm on Baelor's armrest and begging him to dance with you. You always used the excuse of Valarr being gone to disguise it as proper, that no one would question a devoted father in law dancing with his son's lovely bride, but you did not need that now.

"Would you care to dance, wife?" Valarr asked, turning to you with shining eyes. You were surprised by the offer, your expression a little slack with it, and you nodded, smiling apprehensively.

"Um, yes, alright, husband," you answered hesitantly, standing quickly and accepting the hand he proffered. Valarr led you down into the fray, hands at your waist and swaying with you.

Baelor gulped harshly from his wine, fingers going white against the cup. You were giggling with Valarr, allowing him to slide his hand to a place on the edge of impropriety, twirling the way you did when you danced with Baelor.

You had accepted Valarr's hand so easily, had smiled at him, did all the things you had once scoffed at in the context of your husband. Why was it now happening before his eyes?

After two dances, the two of you came stumbling back to the table, hand in hand. You were shiny from exertion and chattering to Valarr about something or other, and he was actually listening. Just as you reached the table, one of his friends called him over, and he let you go, mumbling something about being back soon.

You caught Baelor's eyes as you stepped up, and you beamed at him. Rather than taking your seat from before, you stole Valarr's at Baelor's side, scooching it closer to his so you could press your knee against the side of his thigh under the table. You snatched Baelor's wine glass from his hand and took a big gulp from it, sighing happily then depositing it back in his hand.

"Would you dance with me in a few moments, Father?" You asked, "after I've caught my breath."

"You should enjoy the pleasure of it with your husband," he answered curtly, keeping his eyes on the hall rather than turning to face you. You noticed the clench to his jaw, the tense set to his shoulders, and you smirked a little, just a quirk at the corner of your mouth.

"I have already," you answered, putting on a pout. "Though he is a marvellous dancer, I want to dance with you now." He grimaced a little, jaw going a little tighter, but he did not say anything. You huffed, placing your hand casually on top of his. "Please, Father?"

"Do not whine," was all he responded with, but you just frowned deeply, leaning over the arm of your chair and into his space until he was forced to look at you.

"Pleaseeee," you whined in response, and you gave him the eyes that told him you were prepared for a long battle of pouting and whining and toeing the edge of propriety in a way that set him on edge more than it did you.

"Alright, my girl, alright," he sighed, draining the last of his wine before calling for his cup to be refilled. You smiled triumphantly and after a moment, stood up and waited for him to offer you his hand.

He took you down to the dance floor, smiling politely at people in greeting before turning to face you. You were beaming, pressing yourself close to him as the music began.

"You know, Father," you began softly, "that I favour you most of all." He looked you right in the eyes, his gaze unreadable. "Out of everyone in Westeros and beyond." You said it so innocently, as if it was a simple truth but a truth nonetheless.

Baelor's expression did not change, but at the next change in the music, he leaned down close to your ear and said, "if you are attempting to charm me into being particularly giving in bed this evening, consider yourself successful."

You giggled sharply, lips parting for a moment before you clamped your mouth shut and looked at him with sparkling eyes.

+++

And suddenly, it was like your life had become a bit of a whirlwind between Valarr and Baelor.

"Come to dinner with my friends and I," Valarr would suggest, stroking the back of your hand on top of the lunch table. Before you could respond, Baelor would chime in from the other end of the table.

"She cannot," he would say politely (if a little curt), "your wife has become indispensable in aiding me with my correspondence and we have much to work through this evening."

You would grimace and nod, shrugging apologetically in Valarr's direction, then turn your head and smirk with shiny eyes at Baelor. (The correspondence would surely be shoved off his desk in a hurry and replaced by you!)

Valarr would suggest you come to watch him in training again, citing how you enjoyed it so the last time. But lo and behold, suddenly Crown Prince Baelor has appeared, citing that he does not want to lose his skills of combat, wielding his sword like an expert and outshining all others on the training grounds.

Valarr would frown and attempt to focus on his own training, and every time he would glance in your direction, you would be too busy chewing on your lip and watching his father.

Baelor knew the mind of men. He was one after all, so he knew the sorts of dark and depraved things that plagued men, especially when it came to pretty young things like you. And it was this exact knowledge, this experience, that had him fuming when he walked out of the small council chamber and found you laughing happily with one of the newer members of the King's Guard.

You were the heir to the heir's wife, which meant you of course had your own King's Guard following you around. But you were kind and young and forgiving, so it was far easier to assign the newer members of the force to you, the young men who had eagerly joined and taken their vows and now needed the proper experience required of them.

This new boy was exactly that, a boy. Though perhaps he was closer in age to you than Baelor himself, Baelor knew this meant an unbidden confidence and recklessness that could only be tapered with age and experience. And he was witnessing this now as he stepped out of the small council chamber, and found you facing the knight, a bright smile on the boy's face as he said things to you that made you laugh like anything.

And yes, you were Valarr's wife, yes, you were his daughter-in-law, but truly, you were Baelor's, and he was not a man prone to sharing. So, as he walked through the doors and his eyes landed on the boy's smirk and the way he leaned in closer to you than was strictly appropriate, Baelor truly felt what it meant to have the blood of the dragon.

His hands tightened where he grasped them together behind his back, and the natural easiness of his face slipped away, a firm set to his lips and a steely look in his eyes that belied the change in him. He strolled steadily over to you, taking his time to observe the way you looked at the boy, the way the boy so obviously ogled you.

When you finally noticed him, he took a singular pleasure in the way the boy's presence was utterly forgotten to you. You beamed, whipping fully around to face Baelor and you hopped over to him. You were careful not to throw yourself at him the way you were often wont to do, aware of the eyes, and stopped yourself just in front of him, still toeing the line of propriety.

"Hello, Father!" You greeted happily, hands clasped behind your back as you twisted a little side to side at the waist. "How was council?" You asked, petting at your own hair to ensure it sat prettily over your shoulders.

He smiled down at you then, reaching up and gently petting your hair as well, smoothing it out a little and simply caressing you through that. You smiled wider, shivering a little, and he could see how your eyes shined. Oh, you would be insatiable now.

Then you looked down at yourself, smoothed a hand down your bodice then your skirts, shifting again so the fabric moved while his eyes were on it.

"Do you like my new dress? I know you are a fan of blue," and you said it with such a heaviness behind your words, such suggestion, looking up at him from under your eyelashes. Yes, he was a fan of blue, but he was especially a fan of blue when you wore it.

He too now resisted an urge, forcing his hand to stay at his side rather than to caress you over the breasts and ribs and to grip your skirt in his hands if only to feel the material of it.

"You look beautiful, darling," he said, eyes shining as he offered you a small smile, and you preened at the praise, batting your eyes and holding your hands together tightly. Oh how you wished to kiss him all over just for that small compliment.

Then Baelor raised his eyes from you to the boy-knight, to the awkward way he stood just behind you, eyes to the floor, suddenly rigid where he had once been so easy in your presence. Baelor took great satisfaction in this.

He did not say anything for a moment, just stared at him, then he turned to you again and gently took you by the shoulders, offering you a smile once more.

"Will you have wine prepared for me in my chambers? I will join you shortly," and when you nodded happily, he leaned down and pressed a firm kiss to the top of her head. Fatherly to some, not so much to you...

Then you skipped off, and as the knight went to follow you, Baelor held up his hand and stopped him instantly in his tracks.

"Your grace," the boy was practically trembling, staring up at Baelor with wide eyes. Baelor would have felt bad for him if he was not so irritated with the boy's behaviour. It had been a frustrating day of governance, and it had not helped his mood to see someone attempting to flirt and perhaps insinuate impropriety with his girl.

"I will say this once, and once only," Baelor told him, waiting for the boy to nod with understanding before continuing. "Keep your sword away from my sheath, Ser, unless you wish to find yourself guarding the walls of Castle Black with only gruel to eat and other men to keep you warm."

Baelor nudged his chin in the direction you had hopped off, staring right into the eyes of the knight as he spoke. The poor boy was shaking in his boots, eyes wide and horrified as he looked up at the heir-apparent. Baelor could practically hear where his armour clacked against itself.

"I- yes, of course, your grace, of course, I-"

"Good." Baelor cut off the incessant rambling, raising his eyebrows once at the boy before turning on his heel and making to follow after you.

He had not realised how much he truly burned with the rage of it. His hands hurt from how harshly he gripped them together, and he was practically shaking from his restrained ire. His heart raced and his cheeks felt flush, and however much he tried, he could not quite rid himself of the thought of knocking the knight down.

Baelor walked swiftly back to his chambers where you eagerly awaited. When he opened the door, you were already sprawled on his bed, slippers kicked off as you burrowed yourself in his pillows and sheets, hugging one to your body. You peeked your head up when he entered, smiling softly when you saw him.

"Your wine is on the table, Father," you informed him, pointing to the jug and cup that you had prepared. "Your bed simply looked too inviting to be ignored though," you added cheekily, shifting yourself up so you were leaning back against the headboard a little. You raised one knee, pointing your foot and teasingly moving it about on the bed. He could only see the movements over the dress, but even that made him wish to grip you and devour.

Baelor walked over to the little table and poured himself a cup of wine. He raised it to his mouth and drank, but his eyes remained on you. You did not say anything further, but you watched him as he watched you, eyes trailing all over him with a heat that only spurred on the fire in him. You bit your lip, caressing the pillow you clutched teasingly, your belly filling with heat as he drank the wine in big gulps and stared at you where you posed on his bed.

He finally put the cup down, sighing a deep breath, and you sat up fully, scooting down a little and reaching behind you. You pursed your lips a little as you struggled to catch the end of the laces, but when you finally managed the task, you quickly unlaced your dress and pushed the bodice off.

Baelor did not move from his spot by the wine, pouring himself another cup as he watched you. You slid the dress over your hips then out from under you, the pretty pale blue fabric matching his eyes. He would have smirked any other time at the realisation.

You were now only in your thin shift, the little straps of it holding on for dear life at your shoulders. You were panting a little from the effort of removing your dress, and you leaned back onto your hands as you waited for him. You knew he would ravish you, it was just a matter of when.

Baelor sipped slower from this cup of wine. He had hit about halfway through and he could tell you were getting huffy, and it was only then that he put the cup down and moved swiftly to you, climbing over you and kissing you hot and hard on the mouth.

Baelor spent a long time ravishing you then, shirking his other duties to spend the afternoon and evening in bed with you. He took you on your back and on your front, on all fours and on top of him as well. He pressed his head between your thighs and made you see stars. He did everything and more until you were both so spent and tired that getting up to go to dinner was out of the question.

Baelor only left the bed to bring the jug of wine and cup to the table beside the bed, not wishing to keep standing for a drink. When he settled again, leaning casually against the headboard, cup in hand, he looked down at you in the bed.

You were fully naked, curled up and sleeping soundly. The sheets draped gently over you, and he could see the lines of your curves, the gentle swell of your arse and the dip of your spine. Your hair was a knotted mess around your head and your lips pouted even as you slept. He took a deep breath, caressed your arm and shoulder gently, and drank long and slow from his wine.

You truly brought out a side of Baelor he had not accessed before, or at least not often. You made him possessive, harsh, mad... He felt possessed by some demon sent from the seven hells at the thought of you wasting even one moment of your soft-sweetness on a man that was not him.

Baelor put the cup down on his nightstand, then slid down into the bed. He curled over you, sighing against the top of your head as you snuggled up to him even in your sleep. He kissed you on the forehead, then closed his own eyes.

"You're very mean," she huffs, rubbing her face into his neck.

"Of course I am," he answers softly, smirking and trying not to chuckle.

"You're horrible to me," she whines quietly, now beginning to mouth at his neck. Again, Baelor nods.

"Yes, I truly am," he kisses the top of her head and rubs her back and she just grabs his hands and begins to bring them under her dress and obvi he has to tease her so he's like, "will this soothe you? Hm? Will you be a good girl again when you have finished on my fingers?" and she just shivers and nods.

AAAAAA I want to be a brat for Baelor 🥵

On the other hand, Maekar with a gentler DIL might actually make the man spontaneously combust. He could not handle it because instead of being a nuisance, you are so sweet and devoted and helpful.

Like yes, you do complain to him about random shit, but you also just smile and happily tell him stories about yourself and your life and do little things that make his life easier where you can.

Like, you cleaned up his desk once because it looked too cluttered, you always made sure to fill up his plate or keep his wine glass full, and there were so many times where he just sat there and stared at you in shock because wtf, why were you being so gentle and sweet and spinning his world around???

This also means that he is literal putty for you. You want to come sit in his lap? He will not get up until you decide to. He just wraps his arm around your waist, rests his head on yours, and hugs you close because you're just so warm and soft...

You want to go walking around in the gardens but don't want to go alone? The idiot lord can wait for his meeting, Maekar has to go watch his DIL sniff the flowers and giggle and skip around him, let her hold his hand and kiss his cheeks in thanks.

You want a new dress for the feast? Have two made. You want new jewellery to go with the dresses? You don't need to ask, there are already pieces being made. You want those lemony Dornish candies that you can only get in Sunspear? An errand boy has already been sent.

But when you do get a little bratty? You're bored and restless, don't really want to do anything but also want to do something and have decided that annoying Maekar is your task? The man has you over his knee before you can whine more than two sentences. Or he just fucks you over the edge of the desk, makes sure you're too tired to be whiny, and then leaves you on the chaise by the fire so he can get back to work.

"Father!"

"No, I will not take whining and pouting from my sweet girl, remember yourself," he grumbles as he holds you down over his lap. He just pats your behind at first, threatening punishment, but you just whine again.

"Ugh! You're being mean, Father!" You huff, hitting his thighs a little with your fists, and he just grunts, flips your skirt up and starts spanking like no tomorrow.

"You are always my good girl, always sweet and kind," he mumbles as he does it, "but you are spoilt rotten by my hand and forget your place."

You're back to being a very nice sweety the next day, and he's back to being at your absolute beck and call.