#spearprince

Valarr thinks he's joking

The night of the day they break up Valarr walks in on Aerion in Baelor's bed

despedida

hammeranvil marrying young (Maekar fifteenish/sixteenish and Baelor in his early twenties) and having twins right out the gate: Daeron, the elder of the two, fussy and needing constant attention straight from the womb, and Valarr, who is both much smaller and much quieter than his twin. That seems to set the tone of Valarr’s life right from the start. He’s the ‘easy’ one, the one that doesn’t cry or whine, who can entertain himself while his many siblings clamor for attention. He’s Muña’s sweet helper, always eager to follow in Maekar’s footsteps and help with the littler ones. He’s Kepa’s smart boy, who attends all his lessons and answers every question correctly. He’s the one child they don’t have to worry about, and they love him for it. And Valarr knows it, and takes great pains that it stays that way. He wipes his own tears, solves his own problems, and gives them no reason to begin to worry when they never have had to before. He can’t help but notice that they seem relieved to not have to pay him much mind—that they seem to appreciate the steadily growing distance between them, giving him less and less attention as time goes on and he pulls away further.

(On the other, unseen, side: hammeranvil both having thoughts about their second-eldest as he grows older, which get worse when he presents as an omega at fourteen. He’s their sweet boy, their angel, with Baelor’s mismatched eyes (though his right is blue instead of his sire’s violet, but that only makes him more precious a sight) and wavy dark hair that holds that beautiful streak of silver, like a ray of moonlight on a stormy sea. They don’t know how to interact with him, their quiet, self-sufficient boy that they adore in a way far too heavy for mere parental love. It’s a relief and a sweet agony both, when he starts to distance himself from them. They love him—terribly, hungrily—but they don’t know how to love him in only the way they should, the same way they love their other children.)

On his fifteenth birthday, his grandfather announces that with his blooming into an omega, he will have a match made before year’s end. His grandmother already has a list prepared—and at the top is a name that Valarr has heard whispered more and more over the years: Manfred Dondarrion. ‘To settle the Marcher lords,’ his grandparents say with strained smiles, carefully not mentioning why said lords need settling now more than ever. But Valarr knows anyway, having heard a thousand times through Court gossip about how his Kepa had spurned Jena Dondarrion for his Muña. It’s been a decade and a half since, but the Dondarrions had never forgotten—and if they could not have an alpha prince, then an omega one would do.

He does not mind it the way he thought he would, this bargaining of his future. It satisfies him, in an empty sort of way—that even in this he will be the reasonable one. He knows it must be him, for who else would it be? Aerion, who would sooner rip out the Dondarrion knight’s throat than lay under him, and who is too young besides? Daella, who has not even bled, who weeps at dresses she has outgrown and her needlepoint mistakes and no lemon cakes after supper? No, it will be him, and he shall go to the altar with the same quiet that has carried him through the rest of his life thus far. He agrees, and will marry before the year’s end. He does not even think to tell his parents—for will they care, truly? He is already apart from them, chasms between them for all they live mere rooms away from each other, and surely they knew it to be coming either way. He is the same age his Muña was when he married, and he will marry for alliance that will bring the Crown peace—they will likely smile and nod and move on with their lives, content with his smart match and his quickly approaching absence.

(Meanwhile, when their father tells them of the match that has been arranged without their say-so, hammeranvil jointly blows a gasket. Maekar is far more overt with it, ranting at the top of his lungs and insisting every other breath that his baby will NOT be married off without his permission, not now and not ever—but Baelor is the one that their father is watching. The Hand of the King is ramrod straight in his chair, fingers so tight around the armrests that the wood is groaning. His eyes are shut and his jaw is set, and there is little of the calm he is so known for in the tenseness of his shoulders, in the slight bearing of his teeth behind pursed lips. Baelor says nothing. Baelor does nothing. But the darkness in those mismatched eyes when they open to face Daeron head on says more than a thousand screaming matches ever will. He stands, takes a suddenly quiet Maekar by the hand, and turns to leave—but not without a quiet word, the last word he will speak on the subject to them for years to come. ‘This will not turn out the way you intend,’ he says, voice near genial, if not for the utter lack of warmth in his eyes, ‘and when it does not, I expect that you will allow me to handle the aftermath as I see fit.’)

and if I add dadson² and unclenephew/brothercest² fries to this????? Baelor taking Maekar in as a ward of sorts, seeing his mother and father's age when Maekar needed raising leaving him at a disadvantage.

his sour pup of a little brother needed a wiser, more focused hand. needed more attention. needed a sturdy alpha to raise him up. so he took Maekar in with his brood, a son of the same age and one slightly younger, when Maekar was about 7 or 8.

he taught him on horseback and sword, histories, politics, the like. and in the end, betrothed the omega to his alpha son, Valarr. to keep him close, of course. Baelor didn't want either of his sons to leave him, ever.

not his first born, not the boy born to him as a brother. he had a fodness for both boys that went beyond fatherly love. beyond brotherly love.

he found both boys beautiful. and both were so desperate for his attention, not even fighting for it. seeking kisses and the shelter of the crook of his arm, leaning into his touches and groping. but for one reason or another— perhaps he was happily married with Jena for now. or there were too many eyes on their marriage for him to take risks. perhaps he was attempting to be a good heir, and still had a grip on himself. maybe he didn't want to sully them as pups. something different all togehter —things never went much farther than that.

and for Maekar and Valarr themselves, they were happy to be brothers, attached at the hip since they were first made brothers by wardship. happy to share their father, knowing he loved them both, and sing that against him to get even more love and spoiling. and happily betrothed, it was puppy love, but love nonetheless.

Valarr could handle Maekar's sullen nature, and even urge a smile out of him. and he believed he was beautiful, scars and all. Maekar was smitten over it, and gives Valarr a place to confide in, to be "imperfect"- to whine and complain about things, or spar till they both bled, or a place to... misbehave... before they're officially wed.

taking to one another's chambers after dark, sharing their beds. their heats and ruts, with a steady flow of moon tea. Valarr had wanted a pup so bad, but insisted they wait, for Maekar's honor. people would speak of both of them, but he didn't want to hear an ill word about his mate. so he hushed Maekar's every argument to just let a pup take to his womb.

so when Valarr slips away to the sickness, both Baelor and Maekar are grieving the loss. grieving their sweet Valarr. a son, a brother, a nephew, a lover. Maekar is grieving a pup he will never get to carry because his foolish boy was too sweet for his own good.

but Maekar also had something that Baelor hadn't.

he had been bedded by Valarr, where Baelor never took the chance, like the fool he was. and now the man, widowed, heirless, has a chance to at least enjoy his sweet son, sullen brother. to love him as he deserved.

Baelor beds him. sometimes he asks Maekar how Valarr had fucked him, and repeats it, with greater skill. other times, he calls Maekar by Valarr's name, taking him how he'd imagined taking his son again and again over the years. and others, he just soothes his sweet brother, his sweet son. his boy, whose heart is aching with the loss of his betrothed, who Baelor has wanted, simply because it is in his blood to love his brother.

"you'll be mine now, sweet thing. I won't leave you."

they'll make plenty of heirs. while they attempt to mend the wounds in their hearts.

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I just think it would be rather nice if they became a tangled mess of incest. and think of the layers.

maybe Baelor seemed to favor his son over his brother and Maekar was jealous at times. maybe after being betrothed, both boys preferred each other, over their father, and Baelor was the jealous one.

either way, perhaps Maekar resents Baelor for bedding him, and is a sullen bride, even outside of his grief alone. because why did his big brother only want him, truly want him, now? was it really only because his precious son was dead? or was Maekar now resenting the love he once begged for, because he only wanted to be Valarr's now? or are they having requited grief sex and Valarr is smiling on from the heavens?