｡･:*:･ﾟ★ III. HE WAKES, HEAD ACHES, FUNNY TASTE TO HIS TEA - HE’S MY MAN
pairing.✦ ݁˖ Valarr Targaryen x fem!reader
word count .✦ ݁˖ 3k
masterlist | chapter 2 | chapter 4
The sound of horses cantering on the dirty tourney grounds and the cheering of commoners were the only things discernible. You and your sister could barely communicate without screaming even from the stands.
"Why do you have bags under your eyes, sister?! Just how long were you up for?", Rhea whisper-yelled.
You scrunched up your nose at the sound of a lance absolutely demolishing a shield.
The sun was now well above your heads. Steady on its way towards setting in the west.
"Just a bit past midnight. Nothing I don't usually do as well.", you grinned at her.
She shook her head in disapproval but couldn't help return your smile.
Your sister had made a one of a kind incense pouch for her betrothed as soon as she'd heard of the engagement. "It's the least I can do for the person who will take care of me for life." Carrying it around without a clue who to give it to.
The thought of her still looking out for a man who could end up her biggest nightmare made your heart ache for her even more. You bit down on your cheek and thought back at the previous night.
The Prince, Valarr, had stood up for you. Against his own unruly cousin no less. Your heart had involuntarily fluttered. A foreign feeling you weren't keen on naming.
'It's purely admiration and respect.', you pulled the soft wool over your eyes. Now you knew how terrifyingly convincing you could be.
The men had returned briefly after you'd begun sharing your day with Valarr and he'd knitted his brows for half a second before greeting his father respectfully. Had he wanted to hear more about your boring day?
Regardless you'd directed your full attention towards your father and his sheer parading of his daughter's abilities.
Prince Baelor had asked you quite a few questions about the family business. In a sense testing you, however you had been glad at his attempt at engaging you in conversation. Additionally easing the tension in the air left from Aerion.
Prince Maekar had even started talking to your father directly with his unmistakably royal presence.
His eldest son barely resembled him in terms of looks. Daeron's long waves stuck to his forehead and he combed them back with his hand every few minutes. An easy and at the same time sorrowful grin was plastered on his face.
"Rhea, don't worry yourself. It'll be alright." That'd been the first thing he'd whispered to her.
"Thank you." She'd said with an overly calm expression.
Daeron was swooning over your sister in his own way as if he'd known her for years. And Rhea had gratefully accepted his comfort.
They'd endlessly spared each other glances. In between your conversations with Valarr and Baelor you'd caught glimpses of your sister's evening.
It was safe to assume Valarr was Baelor's son. The same smile, same demeanor, same values, same different colored eyes, the dark hair it was all far too familiar.
"My father and I had planned on sending a few men to investigate a mountain area we came across. There are dozens of tales told about that place to scare kids." You had started sipping on your drink before your father picked up on the topic. "It would calm the villagers down. My daughter planned the routes herself."
"It's truly rare to come across someone this knowledgeable, don't you think so too Maekar?" Maekar on the other hand was shooting daggers at Aerion the whole night only relaxing once he'd been directly addressed by his older brother.
"I'd love to continue this conversation on the day our families become one." Prince Baelor had went on.
'Our families? As in him and Valarr...'
The prince had fundamentally blessed your worst nightmare into existence. You'd choked on your drink and were spiraling ever since.
Other than that however you'd had an uneventful evening and would very likely continue interacting with the targaryens in the near future. Even if you weren't all too keen on getting to know Aerion, the humane and down to earth nature of most of them had convinced you to trust them.
What Rhea didn't manage to accomplish was to ascertain who the groom was unlike you. The men had kept their words vague. Once she'd asked somewhat directly about the wedding and prince Maekar had shut it down with a mere "That's a discussion for another time".
You'd grown accustomed to the notions of this family now. Mysterious and ominous.
But was it true? Your sister and Valarr? You couldn't even believe the world could work in such cruel ways.
Yet it made the sense. Two of the most earnest people you knew spending the rest of their lives together.
"A part of me is somehow convinced most of them have planned nothing and forgotten the wedding altogether." Your sister had joked once you'd returned to your chambers.
"That's probably not too far off.", you'd tried to return the sentiment but had failed miserably.
Devoting your notice to the moment now before you, you found them just a row in front of you. Complete and utter respect had washed over you once again as you greeted the princes.
Regarding the games again you were slightly taken aback. Truly idiotic that grown men were fighting each other with the risk of dying just for entertainment purposes and a sense of honor. You thought how much more they could be doing with their time instead of rolling in the mud.
Nevertheless, no matter how hard it was to admit, you actually enjoyed the actual fights.
Not the ones with casualties of course. But the ones where you could sense the passion each knight had and their focus on the opponent's movements. As if they were in their natural habitat while jousting. Soaring the skies without a care, like a sort of dance.
You'd wanted to try holding a lance for yourself.
Speaking of lances you wondered for what reason you were not sought after.
Over and over again since the break of dawn when the tournament started countless knights had asked for the blessings of lady Ashford and your sister. You however were seemingly invisible.
"Sister do I have something on my face?" You'd asked truly confused.
"Oh, Y/N these men are just intimidated by your beauty. Pay it no mind." But even Rhea was unsure.
Once they came to the stands they all looked terrified of you. Nervously glancing at the tents before asking another lady for a favor or none at all.
How odd.
"Valarr Targaryen!", the Herald called at the top of his voice. And the called upon knight rode into view.
Valarr nodded at his father and Baelor returned the gesture. The Prince in the recognizable dark grey armor scanned the crowd. He looked around with a hopeful expression threatening to change into despair until his gaze landed on you.
A smile crept onto his lips.
Then he rode to the stands. Never breaking the eye contact.
"My Lady," your eyes widened at his sudden forwardness. "may I have the honor of receiving your favor?"
As much as you'd played this situation in your head you couldn't contain the displeasure of the first receiver being Valarr in the slightest.
He should be asking his future wife. Not you.
Your mouth formed a fine line by the time you stood up abruptly and made your way to the front. Holding the railing for dear life.
You curled your lips halfheartedly. "I doubt you, my prince, would need my measly blessing." Putting on a humble act was difficult. "The others faired well without my help."
Especially as you desperately wanted to give everything to this man. Including a slap.
"I shall be the most fortunate man in all of Westeros with a simple word from you. Please, Y/N." He lowered his voice on the last plea so only you could hear it.
Looking back at your sister she enthusiastically nodded at you. 'This is not a sign of romance. Not romance.'
"I cannot deny that of a prince. You're right." You declared after sighing heavily and rummaged through your pouch to which he gave a pleasantly surprised expression.
The gaze of almost every spectator was on you yet in that moment there could've been an earthquake and it wouldn't have broken the air between the two of you.
You took out the handkerchief and dropped it. He picked it up in a swift motion before it could hit the ground and admired your work.
"Good luck, my prince."
"You never cease to astonish me, my lady." Valarr kissed the fabric and tied it around his upper arm. Your stomach churned.
The match started quickly after he'd chosen a fellow contestant.
He won.
Again.
And again?
You truly felt horrible for his opponents. One after the other got strategically hit by Valarr's lance and lost balance.
Of course you'd cheered for Valarr as did most of the viewers. However you thought about throwing vegetables at him instead. The common folk were onto something. It could be a great means for stress relief.
Valarr wasn't the type to heavily injure his adversaries. Instead opting on using their weaknesses to his gain. And eventually helping the enemies up after a loss.
One knight had been foolish enough to repeatedly lean towards the left while attacking. Valarr noticed this almost instantly and attacked his weaker shoulder, sending him flying.
The wind made the cloth wrapped around in a neat knot on his tricep sway like ripples in the water as he rode. The dragon flew alongside its smaller companion.
His eyes caught yours across the arena after every successful move despite his helmet covering most of features.
After each and every fight won, the prince had a triumphant smile plastered on his face. But in spite of his sensational victories you could tell his reactions weren't in the victories' graces. They were in yours.
During the third round he'd grown quite tired or rather bored of the fights. He was second to none from what you could tell.
An (adorable) pout visible on his face every single time a shield was shattered. He calculated exactly where to strike next and how to evade the enemy.
Why did he have to be such a true knight? He'd make a great king someday. Alongside Rhea.
Once the last match had ended and the crowd of people slowly evaporated you made your way to the tents.
Perhaps you could meet Ser Duncan again and ask him about his future match. But that was just wishful thinking. You only had one reason to be here. And there he was.
Valarr stood next to his horse. Softly caressing it. As he saw you walk by he gave his horse a tap and fully took you in.
"I've never seen someone so talented in the arts of evasion. Your riding was incredible.", involuntary enthusiasm was evident on your face.
He smiled and avoided your gaze. If you looked closely, which you always did when it came to Valarr, you could see a faint rosy tint on his cheeks. His tender appearance was dampening your spirits.
"All thanks to your favor that I could compete so well, kasta hontes."
That damned nickname. Your gaze dropped to his upper arm at the mention of your favor.
He'd taken off your handkerchief.
It didn't matter of course. Nothing but an observation.
You scoffed.
"You jest. If that were the sole reason for success why would no other desire it except for you?"
Valarr winced slightly at your harsh tone. But before you could apologize he explained.
"It was only mine to take."
His claim hung in the air. His voice so calm that you weren't able to even question it.
Your mouth hung slightly open. What did he even mean?
Heaps of wind blew through the sky and your hair swayed along with them.
If Valarr didn't notice your change of demeanor his horse sure did. It nudged at you with full determination. Sniffing at you in an attempt to either see if you were made of sorrows or apples.
Momentarily you forgot or rather avoided his sentence. You looked at Valarr with hopeful eyes asking for permission to interact and he nodded as if it were self-evident.
"What's its name?" You'd asked while stroking the horse's mane.
"I named him R'hllor after the God of Light. I'd love to take you with me on horseback someday."
Your head spun in his direction.
"Really, don't you have far too many duties to attend to?"
Like taking your fiancée horse riding.
"I can always make time for you. I don't see a reason as to why not."
You absentmindedly hummed a thank you. He was sublime. The horse.
A black coat with deep brown eyes. A mirror of its owner. Only a silver streak of hair was missing.
You giggled.
"What's made you so giddy." You contemplated whether telling him would get you beheaded or not.
"You look quite alike. You and R'hllor." Now it was no use trying to contain your laugh.
The look both the horse and Valarr gave you, that of pure confusion, made you crack up even more.
"...thank you?" He was now laughing quietly alongside you, baffled. He'd taken off his armor before you'd arrived. Resting infront of his preparation tent with a fitted linen shirt.
"Of course I consider R'hllor as the reason for your victory."
"It's no use. In my egotism I now consider myself as mighty as a warhorse."
"Oh, you claim to be as ferocious as this honorable gentleman?" You playfully smiled at R'hllor while ignoring Valarr. The horse headbutted you in approval.
You stayed there in comfortable tranquility for a moment before the prince broke the silence.
"I want to give you something.", he spoke in a way as if he'd been anticipating this exchange. You nodded eagerly trying to forget the moment but also tattoo it onto your skin as a reminder of your faults.
Moving towards the tent the flap was opened casually by him. He carried the weight of battle yet was still fleet-footed.
Making sure you were comfortable he held a deliberate distance. Inviting you inside only if you wanted to be invited.
You were half sure this was the moment that would either kill you or make you kill someone. But you still walked inside.
The tent was modest. Containing only the necessities. But it somehow still yelled Valarr.
The all too familiar aroma, the organized clothing pieces, towels and the armor surely placed neatly by him and not by an attendant. Did he even have something like a squire?
"I'm unsure of the appropriation of this but I've never felt the need to do this before so please be patient with me." You'd never heard his voice being so uncertain. You were entertaining the idea of finding out more about him.
"Of course, your highness." His eyes flickered with dismay at the name yet he carried on, walking further into the tent. He urged you to sit down on a stool.
Curiosity killed the cat but if you were the cat you'd jump into your murderer's arms in that moment.
"When I was younger my mother would tell me of a tradition. It was one of the ways my father had... won her over.", he chose his words carefully and fidgeted slightly.
Then he picked up a crown. Not one of gold or silver but one of petals. Beautiful and wild spring flora carefully arranged into a fragile thing. Most of it containing a shade of blue and purple with specks of white.
You imagined the warrior tenderly arranging the flower crown with his calloused hands after he'd gone out to collect the flowers himself. No, that couldn't possibly be...
"It's a laurel." You'd stated completely stunned.
"That it is." He smiled nervously. "As a sort of thank you for the handkerchief." But it was clear he'd made this before. Did your heart just stop? Yes? No? Maybe? You couldn't tell.
His eyes shimmered in the now dim sunlight passing into the room. He moved closer at a snails pace. Afraid you'd spin on your heel and run away. But you didn't move. You didn't move when he was a foot away from you and you certainly didn't move when your breathes mingled.
The warmth his body was radiating dulled all your senses for anything else. Only training them to react to him, you'd find out later.
A laurel. A gift given to name the queen of love and beauty in a tournament by its winner.
"Valarr, I cannot possibly accept this. Besides the tourney is for lady Ashford and my sister would be far more-" He gently grabbed your hand shushing your babbling in the process. Your heart skipped yet another beat.
"I believe you are worthy of far more than a hundred of these crowns." Then he slowly dropped his grasp on your hand and returned it to the flowers. Gently placing the crown on your head.
He then sunk to his knees next to you, his gaze depicting nothing but appreciation. Appreciation for your beauty, for your presence.
"Gevie." He breathed out as he brushed back a strand of your hair.
Beautiful.
You didn't need a translation for his muttering this time.
The world felt as though you were underwater. Your body too heavy, sinking into his depths. You were drowning and still longed to touch the ocean floor.
This is so fucking wrong. A voice of reason yelled at you to just move.
"Your highness, I have to go." You barely managed to utter the words.
And you didn't wait for his response. Just sprinted out of the tent. You clutched the crown in your hand. Careful enough not to do any damage to it but firm enough to be able to run away.
Leaving the dragon who had poured its heart out to you all alone.
a/n. Heyy, damn why don't u just ask Valarr yourself if he's going to marry your sister, Y/N? Bro probably cried himself to sleep that night.
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