the lonely hearts club

𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 three days had passed, and you were already ready to lock yourself in the deepest cell of the castle until your madness waned. Despite your greatest efforts at avoiding the areas you knew Valarr frequented, it seemed as if the Gods had taken it upon themselves to torture you. No matter the time of day, no matter the corner you turned, he was always there, and he was never alone. He was always accompanied by a lady and her septa, or by several ladies and theirs. They would always be smiling and quietly talking amongst one another, and you would be turning on your heels to escape them, regardless of what your original destination had been. 

“The Gods are mocking me, Aely,” You groaned as she fussed with your hair, early morning sunlight slipping through the breaks in your curtains to cast an effervescent glow in your chambers, “I am being punished. For what, I am not sure, but I know that I am.” 

“They are not mocking you, my lady. It is only part of the festivities,” She lightly assured, more than privy to the cause of your frustration. After all, she had been the one subjected to your incessant tirades from the moment you heard the horns blare with the arrival of the first house. 

“Well, I know that,” You frowned, and she instantly brought her hand around your head to push the pad of her finger on the wrinkle between your brows, “I just— I can not escape these festivities no matter where I go. Not even the Godswood has been safe.”

“Have you tried to participate,” She suggested with a gentle hum as if it were the obvious solution before she returned to her work, “You are in contention for the prince's hand, are you not?”

“Everyone is,” You huffed, distracting yourself from the tightening in your throat by picking at the loose thread on your chemise, “I do not see why that is important.”

“Because,” She drew out, eyes meeting yours in the polished steel, “You have done nothing but avoid the young prince, while the other ladies seek him out to better their chances. I am merely suggesting that maybe it is time you seek him out.”

“Why? To better my chances,” You wryly snorted with a roll of your eyes. 

“No, my lady,” She let out an airy laugh, “I believe your chances are not in the slightest jeopardy. I only believe it might put an end to your torture, and to his as well.”

“What torture has he endured,” You hastily turned around in your seat, your hair falling from her hands as you squinted up at her in confusion, “Too many ladies giving him compliments? Too much fussing about how well-dressed or attractive he is? Lords offering too much coin and land to secure the prince's hand?”

Aely’s brows rose at your outburst, a teasing smile toying on her face as she placed a steady hand on your shoulder, “Your silence is torture enough for Prince Valarr. Do you not remember the time he had misplaced your favorite book and you didn’t speak to him for nearly a fortnight? I still have yet to see the prince mope about the halls so pitifully. I believe they had to call upon the maester because Prince Valarr had worried himself so sick he was completely bedridden until you visited him.” 

Your shoulders slumped at her recollection, because yes, you do remember. You remember it quite well, actually. 

Valarr had prudently approached you one afternoon to tell you that he had lost the one book you had brought from home, and you had been utterly heartbroken. It was one of the few things in your possession you truly cared for, and knowing that it had been he who lost it upset you far more than if it had been anyone else. He, of all people, knew how important it had been to you. He had tried to speak to you several times. He had begged for your forgiveness, and he had sworn he would find it again, but you refused to even look at him. It wasn’t until Matarys had found you in the library one morning and had offhandedly mentioned that his older brother had fallen ill that you excused yourself to rush to his chambers. 

His guards had let you into his room without question, and you had stepped through the wooden doors to see the maester leaning over Valarr as his head hung off his bed and over a bucket. Maester Doran noticed you first and had firmly instructed you to leave, but the sound of him calling your name had been enough to pause the Gods-awful dry heaving coming from the prince long enough for him to find the strength to look at you.

At his request, you had carefully approached his bedside with your hands nervously wrung together in front of you. Valarr’s hair had been stuck to his forehead with sweat, his face horribly pale and sickly, and you had to tear your eyes away from him before the uncomfortable tightening in your chest became unbearable. You had shifted your gaze to Maester Doran and firmly asked what had happened. He had told you that it was a simple sickness, one that would remedy itself with time and plenty of water, but not even he could ignore the way color found its way back to Valarr’s face as he looked up at you. 

Apologies had tumbled from Valarr’s mouth so quickly that it made him heave again, and you had instinctively fallen onto the bed beside him to place a hand on his upper back. You had rubbed soothing, gentle circles between his shoulder blades until he finished, and you gave silent gratitude to the Gods that they had not made you faint of stomach. When he bashfully looked at you again, you had told him that, while you were still upset that the book had been lost, you would forgive him, but only if he would find you more to read. He had managed a groggy smile and a promise that he would never stop searching the Seven Kingdoms and beyond in search of any book you could ever want. 

The next day, Valarr had been able to get out of bed without getting sick all over the castle, and within the next week, he had found the lost book. 

“We were children then,” You shook the memory off, resettling back into the chair so Aely could finish your hair, “That is not relevant now that we are adults. He likely does not even remember that, and even so, he would not let such things affect him.” 

“If you believe so,” Aely lowly replied, and you could tell that she was anything but convinced, but she let the matter fade into nothing.

Once you had finished preparing for the day, you decided that a walk through the courtyard might benefit you. Perhaps the warmth of the sun and the smell of the tides might lift your spirits. When you stepped through the grand doorway, you carefully scanned the confines of the walls, and found that, fortunately for you, the Gods had granted you the absence of Valarr and his cohort of potential brides. Without their wavering and haunting presence, you would be able to peacefully stroll about the grounds and wander from one corner to another without worry.

You allowed yourself to observe some of the Kingsguard as they sparred with one another, to watch as people flurried about because they had something to do and somewhere to be, and to listen when your ears picked up on noteworthy gossip. You spoke to those who greeted you, held conversations with those you had seen at court before, but mostly, the only company you kept was that of your lady. Despite your role and status, you had never been one who enjoyed the social aspect of nobility, and you wanted to enjoy the small window of time you got to yourself. However, it wasn’t long before your good luck had seemingly run out, and the curtains to that window were drawn.

The focus of everyone around you shifted towards the entrance to the castle, their heads bowing and their conversations coming to an abrupt halt. You hoped, prayed, that your eyes were going to fall on His Grace the King, or even his lady wife, but of course, that was the wishful thinking of a fool. It was Valarr that traipsed through the castle doors, and he was accompanied by a young woman you easily recognized. 

Kiera of Tyrosh. She was as beautiful as she was vibrantly decorated, her people known for their indulgence of dyed fabrics and ornate headwear. The mere sight of them made envy claw at your skin, its jagged nails chipping away at the composure you had worked so hard to build because you were well aware of just how agreeable a union between the two would be. It would unite two prominent and formidable houses. It could, and likely would, undermine any lingering Blackfyre support that remained in Tyrosh. It was the perfect picture of the ideal political marriage with the benefits greatly outweighing anything else. 

The realization was nauseating. It made you want to bury yourself in your blankets while Aely refused to fill your cups, but it also reminded you what this entire ordeal was truly about. It was not the ordinary gathering of the noble houses you had been used to. It had little to do with anything other than finding Valarr a wife and securing a marriage that would benefit the kingdom. The crown was in search of an alliance, of political gain to strengthen their claim to the throne. They were in search of power, which your house had little of to offer the king in comparison to others, and it seems as if you had forgotten that that was better than any currency in the realm.

You swallowed thickly and blinked away the pinprick behind your eyes and found the courage to tear them away from the pair. You could feel the piercing gaze of your lady heavily pressing on the back of your skull, but you ignored her silent worries as you put one foot in front of the other and kept your head high. You knew what needed to be done. You simply needed to adjust the course you had previously set out on and take advantage of what was laid out before you. There were just as many unwed men as there were ladies in the Keep, and you could not afford to let such an opportunity go to waste. 

You observantly skimmed the yard, eyes flitting around from person to person until they settled on a man clad in sky blue and white. He stood at a table outside of the training circle where he picked up blades, maces, and axes, measuring the weights of them in his hand as if he were selecting his companion to battle. He appeared to be not otherwise be occupied, and, before you were able to talk yourself out of it, you made your way towards him and formed a rough idea of a plan in your head. 

Carefully settling yourself beside the unfamiliar man, you pretended to be interested in the assortment that was displayed on the table. You recognized most of the pieces, but some were unfamiliar to you and you fought the urge to ask Valarr about that crept into your mind. He had always answered your nonsensical questions, but it was not he who stood beside you, and it was not he you needed to be thinking of.

Not even a few moments had passed when you caught the still of the man’s hands as they hovered over the steel, and you bit the inside of your cheek to hide the brash smile that tugged at your mouth. You had gotten his attention, just as you had hoped.

“Hello,” You bashfully greeted with a shy smile, giving him a brief glance while your fingers danced over a leather bound hilt. 

“Hello,” He smoothly replied, inclining his head into a formally polite bow, “I am Ser Edwyn, of House Arryn, and you are the lady…”

You turned completely towards him to sweetly gave him your name, allowing him to tenderly take your hand and place a gentle kiss to your knuckles. When he let your arm fall, he slightly stepped to the right, and it gave you a near perfect view of Valarr as he hovered not far from where you stood. You had expected to see him engaged in his conversation with the Tyroshi lady to his left, but you were stunned to find that his gaze was fixed on you. He was watching you with closely measured curiosity, and, even with such distance between the two of you, you could still see the nearly imperceptible tension in his shoulders. 

“Is the lady interested in weaponry,” He playfully asked, bringing your attention back to him while he gestured to the table beside you.

“In truth, no,” You lightly laughed while your eyes subtly took him in. 

He was attractive, to put it plainly. He was tall with a sturdy enough build. He had sandy colored hair that brushed the tops of his ears and the nape of his neck. His eyes were the pale blue that his house was known for, and he had the same hooked nose, as well. His presence wasn’t commanding, it didn’t demand the kind of respect that Valarr’s had, but it was captivating all the same. He was most certainly the kind of man that had never experienced trouble with women, and the kind of man that women never struggled to find appealing. He was also without a wife, if your memory served you correctly. 

You shifted direction, relaxing your shoulders and burying any thought of Valarr in the depths of your mind so that you were able to focus entirely on the man before you. While marriage might be a bit of an overreach after a first meeting, you saw no harm in entertaining the second son at the very least. It wasn’t as if you had anything to lose, remaining unmatched unlike most of the ladies your age.

“I only came over in hopes that you would notice me,” You continued as you admired him, your tone coated in sugar and honey, “I hope that is not too forward, Ser.”

“It is not,” He shook his head as the corners of his mouth twitched upwards, “I am grateful you approached me. If I am to be honest, I noticed you from the moment my family arrived, and have not stopped since.”

Well, that was certainly not the response you had been expecting. Perhaps this might be easier than you had thought it would be. 

“Is that so,” You tilted your head with a coy smile, “What has prevented us from introduction before?”

“Truthfully, you are quite difficult to catch,” His confidence wavered as he nervously shifted on the balls of his feet, an act you found to be endearing, “You are elusive, and when you do grace a room with your presence, Prince Valarr happens to find your side quicker than anyone. If we hadn’t been invited to the castle knowing the prince searched for a wife, one might think he was already spoken for based on sight alone.”

His words hadn’t been malicious. They hadn’t been intended to have any effect on you at all, you’re almost certain of that. Yet they landed like a blow to your chest, leaving you dazed and scrambling to force air into your lungs. 

“Oh,” You slightly frowned, collecting your bearings that his comment had sent scattering to the dirt beneath your feet, “I can assure you the prince is not spoken for, nor am I. We are only friends.”

“That is good news,” Edwyn’s eyes sparked with hope, “Wil—”

The sound of someone shouting at him shattered the budding tension you had carefully curated, or maybe it had already been broken at the mention of Valarr, you could not tell. Your gaze was pulled to an older man who wore the same blue and white colors, and you instantly noted that his attention was already on the two of you. The man glanced at you a beat longer than necessary before giving Edwyn, who you assume is a son or nephew based on the features they shared, a discreet look of approval. Edwyn incoherently mumbled something under his breath at his summons, but he straightened his back and squared his shoulders when he returned his focus back to you.

“Might I see you at the tourney on the morrow,” He asked, shifting closer to you the faintest bit. 

“You will,” You curtly nodded, ignoring the holes that a certain prince was burning into the side of your head.

Despite the shortness of your conversation, Valarr was being annoyingly persistent in reminding you that he was there merely a few steps away from you. He was known to be soft spoken, yet he had purposefully spoken at an octave loud enough for his voice to filter into your conversation. He ensured that he remained just within your line of sight, or that you remained within his, anytime that he moved about. Whatever it was he was trying to accomplish, you did not pay it any mind. You gave the man in front of you all of your attention, and you were content in keeping it that way until he took his leave. 

“Then I shall see you then,” He gave a smug smile as he rested his hand on the hilt of his sword and hinged his hips into a bow.

When he was rising back to his full height, he reached for your hand again. The skin of his palms were rough and worn from years of training, starkly differing from your own that had never seen such hardship. He kept your gaze as he brought your knuckles to his lips, and you didn’t bother to fend off the warmth that flooded your cheeks from the gesture. It was minutely intimate, and it was only when he let go that you found the strength to speak again. 

“I look forward to seeing you, Ser,” You breathlessly let out, inclining your head in farewell. 

With one more tempting look, he left for his father or uncle, whoever the older man was to him, and you pivoted on your heels to search for Aely. She remained only a few steps away from you with a delicate smile on her soft features, but there was something hidden in the depths of her gaze. Something that said I know what you’re doing without having to actually say the words, but you chose to act as if it wasn’t there at all. 

“I would say that meeting was a success,” You excitedly pointed out with a pleased grin. 

The image of his blue eyes peeking over your hand flashed in your mind, but they slowly morphed into a pair of eyes you had spent almost half your life dreaming of. Deep blue meshed with brown peered back at you as if they were reclaiming your thoughts, surplanting themselves at the forefront of your memories to not ever be forgotten. You tried to shake it off, to shove the memory of him away, but when one would leave, two more would take their place. 

“I would have to agree,” Aely interrupted your inner turmoil, her voice laced with light knowing, “Though, I must ask. What is it you were trying to accomplish? Gaining Ser Edwyn’s affection, or Prince Valarr’s attention?”

You gaped at her accusation, and, while it was light and playful, shame still filled your veins all the time. An endless pit of guilt opened in your stomach because you knew, in a way, there was some truth to her words. While you would like to believe you would have sought Edwyn out regardless, it was no use to deny that your displays had been amplified because of the heavy presence that clung to you like a second skin. Whether it had been unknowingly or not did not matter now that awareness had been brought to it.

“I— I do not know what you mean,” You weakly mumbled with sunken shoulders and downcast eyes.

“My lady,” Aely hurriedly started, taking a careful step towards you, “I only je— Good morrow, my prince.”

She cut herself off, formally greeting Valarr with a curtsy as he approached the two of you. When her head rose, she caught your gaze and tossed an almost apologetic look in your direction that made your brows furrow. As you turned to face him, you prepared yourself to see Kiera still at his side, but the only person that accompanied him was Walter, one of his sworn shields. It would be a lie if you said you hadn’t felt the tiniest bit of satisfaction seeing that he was without her company, but you didn’t let that show as you mimicked Aely’s movements. 

You straightened your back and folded your hands together at your waist, resisting the urge to bury your fingers in the fabric and grasp at the material. Your gaze fixed on Valarr as he stood a few feet away from you, the sun reflecting off the streak of silver hair that contrasted the chestnut brown and brightening the hue of his two-toned eyes. The deep red in the seams of his clothing nearly glowed under the light, and your fingers subconsciously traced at your own that lined your bodice. 

“Hello,” Valarr acknowledged the both of you by name, his eyes merely passing over Aely for a moment before they settled on you, and there was no mistaking the way they instantly softened, “Are the two of you enjoying the nice weather?”

“We are,” Your brow quirked at the simpleness of his question, “Is the weather up to your standards, my prince?”

“It is agreeable,” He curtly nodded, the edge of his mouth slightly turning upwards in poorly concealed amusement, “Would you like to take a walk with me, so that we may enjoy it together?”

“Me?”

The word tumbled out before you could catch it, and you swore you heard Aely muffle a giggle from beside you. You tossed a pointed glare over her shoulder, but you were only met with a crinkly eyed grin and a cheeky dip of her head. When you returned your attention to Valarr, you had to stifle a gasp from how far he had bridged the gap between you. He was within arms reach now, his presence shrouding you in a haze that disorientated you far more than you already were. 

“Yes, you,” He lightly chuckled with humor twinkling in his eyes, “It would be a great honor if you said yes. I’ve quite missed your company.” 

Valarr was gazing down at you so intensely that it was no longer the sun that beat down on you that caused the heat that crawled against your skin. It wasn’t the humidity or the temperature that made your pulse quicken, or made your palms grow clammy as they nervously pressed against your abdomen. That honor belonged to your longest friend, to the man you loved and couldn’t have, and to him it will always belong to. 

With a small shake of the head, you feebly cleared your throat and asked, “Where would you like to go?”

You ended up in the Godswood, which was not unusual for either of you. It was where the two of you spent a great deal of your time together, always under watchful eyes, and where you had always gone anytime you were in search of sanctuary. If it were any other day, it would be almost entirely empty, but with the castle bursting at its seams with people, there were a few who had found their way into the forest. Whether they had been in search of quiet or had set out to explore every inch of the Keep was unknown, but what you did know was that their stares had not stopped tracking the two of you from the moment your feet stepped onto the stone path. 

While the hairs on the back of your neck rose from their scrutinizing gaze and their faint whispers, Valarr was seemingly unfazed as he led you through the trees. He only came to a stop when you reached the very same alder tree he had found you crying under all those years ago, and he began to untie the thread of his silk cloak. As he made work of spreading the fabric out on the earth between the roots, your eyes searched for Aely and found her settled on one of the benches, her body angled just enough for her to see the two of you. Walter stood not far from her, shoulders squared, eyes wide and alert, hand readily on the pommel of his blade, but also engaged in hushed conversation with your lady. 

You had always wondered what the two of them discussed when they found the others company, but she would always brush you off when you would ask. On occasion, you would gingerly warn her away from any potential feelings she might harbor for him. You would remind her that he had taken an oath that was not to be broken, but she countlessly reassured you that was not a concern you needed to have. That, however, did not subdue your relentless curiosity, and you made a mental note to ask again when it was only the two of you later. 

Once Valarr was pleased enough with the way his cloak lay on the grass, he rose back to full stature and turned to you with an outstretched hand. He was softly smiling at you, and he was giving you the very same look he always did. He always looked at you as if you were the only person in the room, no matter how full it was. He would look at you as if your presence alone brought him far comfort that not even he knew he needed. His gaze would always soften in a way that you noticed was only ever given to you, and it always made the same dangerously warm feeling fester behind your rib cage. It made you want to cross the line you had drawn and let it bleed into territory that you believed was not yours to claim. 

You hurriedly cleared your thoughts before you slid your hand into his, a spark crackling against your palm, tingling across the skin all the way to where your heart lay beneath your chest. It made a sharp intake of breath catch in your throat, and you nearly yanked your arm back out of instinct, but you managed to make a quick recovery. You worked a gentle smile to your features, and while he didn’t mention your reaction, you knew that he noticed. He was irritatingly perceptive, especially so when it came to things you would like him to miss.

With his assistance, you settled onto the makeshift blanket, and he followed you shortly after, ensuring that there was a respectable distance between you. You could feel his gaze piercing the side of your face, but you avoided it and chose to focus on tucking your feet under your thighs and adjusting your dress so that your modesty remained intact. You ran your hands along the lavish fabric to give the appearance that you remained occupied, but, truthfully, you were simply buying yourself enough time to steady the heavy thrum of your heart. 

“I hope you know that I meant what I said,” He spoke first, voice steady and even.

Your eyes shift over to him, observing how carefree he looked as he used his palms to bear all his weight and leaned backwards with crossed one ankle over the other. You couldn’t help but admire the way the sunlight bent around his frame and made him look positively otherworldly. You knew that Targaryen’s were known for their divine features, everyone did, but you would swear to the old Gods and the new that Valarr was the most beautiful of them all. Even without their signet of silver hair and violet eyes, you believed that he would rival anyone in his lineage, and, to you, there would be little to debate on the matter. 

“Which time,” You tilted your head in curiosity, teeth gnawing on the inside of your cheek. 

“When I said that I have missed your company,” He shamelessly admitted, his gaze unwavering as he focused on nothing but you, “We have not spent much time together since everyone has arrived.”

Your eyes widened a fraction at his blatant honesty, but they quickly fell to your lap before you quietly murmured, “That is true. Though, I did not think you would notice, or mind, for that matter.”

“Of course I noticed,” He spoke as if you had offended him by implying differently, “And I mind a great deal. I know that we have spoken at the feasts, but it feels as if you have been ignoring me otherwise. Maester Doran has been worried that I might fall ill again.”

The corners of your lips twitched at the reminder of your conversation from mere hours ago, and when you peered up at him, you found that he was already knowingly smiling back at you. It appears you had been wrong in assuming that he had forgotten that stretch of time all those years ago, and that knowledge made your neck and face warm. You had always assumed that he deemed the moments the two of you had shared trivial in comparison to all else, that they were not worthy enough to be remembered by a man who had the privilege of endless experience at his fingertips. 

You could practically hear Aely’s playfully smug voice in the back of your mind. She would ask if you truly believed that the man who once had a tapestry woven with a near identical image of your favorite meadow would ever mark a memory with you as unworthy. Then, she’d pretend to believe you when you had come up with an excuse for that like you always did, and you would have to silently reassure yourself that you were right. That it was all happenstance and Valarr had not done those things for any certain reason. Though you couldn’t help but think…. What if you had been wrong? What if everything you had chalked up to coincidence was anything but, and you had missed what everyone else claimed to have seen?

You thought of the words Ser Edwyn had spoken to you earlier; about how one might have assumed that the prince was spoken for because of how often he sought you out. You thought of how certain lords would whisper that the presentation was a sham when it was clear as a summer's day that the young prince had already chosen a bride anytime that you would pass by. You thought of the way Valarr had rarely ever let you entertain the other boys at court, of how he would find excuses to pull you away when you would speak to them or of how they would suddenly avoid you at all cost the following days. 

The idea alone seemed unfathomable because, while Valarr might have a reputation of being mild mannered and reserved, he had never been one to shy away from the truth. Surely he would have said something if he had felt something for you, right? Unless… What if he had kept things to himself for the very same reason that you did? Certainly that had not been the case. It couldn’t have been. It didn’t make sense.

“My deepest apologies, my prince,” You swallowed thickly, reverting back to formality because, when you would get lost in yourself, it was all that you knew, “It shall not become habit, I swear it.”

“Valarr,” He softly corrected over the gentle rustle of leaves and distinct chatter, “You know that I prefer when you call me by name, instead of my title.”

“I’m sorry, Valarr,” Your lips shaped the letters of his name and something excitable gleamed in his eyes, “I won’t make that a habit, either.”

A comfortable silence fell over you, blanketing you in the kind of solace that very few had been able to bring you. While you knew that you had been in a cage of your own making the last few days, you had still missed his company and you felt like a piece of you had been rediscovered all over again now that he was right beside you. It was no use to deny that Valarr had become heavily intertwined with your life that, but, if you let yourself think about it for too long, it terrified you. 

The thought made your stomach twist and your chest tighten because you knew that, sooner rather than later, he would be wed. More importantly, you knew that even if Valarr shared the same feelings as you, people like him didn’t have the honor of marrying for pleasure or love. They married for duty, to strengthen alliances and solidify power. He would ultimately be the husband to some high born lady and they would be thrust into the chasms of courtly duties with the friendship the two of you shared to be long forgotten. 

“What is it you discussed with Ser Edwyn,” He slowly questioned as he tapped a finger against his cloak, and you swore you detected the faintest hint of jealousy in his tone.

Your eyes flickered to him, brows raised in slight confusion as he attempted to appear unbothered. It might have fooled you if you had been anyone else, and if you hadn’t spent the better part of your days learning even his faintest tells. There was a nearly minute clench to his jaw, and an unnerving stillness in his gaze that made your heart race.  

“Nothing of importance,” You revealed with a passive shrug, fingers working into the roots of the grass to distract yourself, “It was only an introduction, and he asked if I will be at the lists on the morrow.”

“I am certain he means to ask for your favor,” He dryly scoffed before his voice lowered and he cast a discreetly nervous glance in your direction, “Wou– Would you grant him with it?”

“Perhaps,” You nodded after a brief pause, eyes shifting across his face in search of unspoken meaning, “Unless you believe I should not?”

As the words left your mouth, an over enthusiastic breeze rushed towards you and tossed the loose strands of your hair in your face. You thoughtlessly brought your hand up to push everything back in place, but it seemed as if a few pieces were purposely evading you. No matter how many times your fingers would brush them, they would slip from your grasp. You heard Valarr let out a quiet chuckle, and you had every intention of throwing a pointed glare in his direction, but the sight of him leaning forward halted your movements, and everything around you suddenly went very still.

He shifted his body weight onto his left hand as he closed most of the space between, bringing his free hand up to your face as your breath catches in your throat. Your eyes stay trained on his face as the pads of his fingers brushed against your forehead and along your temple to tuck the wisps behind your ear. A shiver ran down your spine as he pressed his thumb against the soft part of your cheek, the skin beneath it sparking alive with a fire so wild that you were not sure it could ever be contained now that it had caught. 

He doesn’t conceal the way his eyes dropped to your lips, nor did he bother to remove the palm that cradled the side of your head, and it made your head spin. He was closer to you than he had ever been to you before. Close enough that you could feel the warm air that passed through his lips fan across your chin. Close enough that you could practically count each individual freckle that dusted across his nose. Before you knew what was happening, you swore that Valarr had leaned in the slightest bit, or maybe it had been you, but the moment came to a prompt end as the echo of someone loudly clearing their throat snapped the two of you from your daze. 

Valarr pulled his hand back to his side and air finally found its way into your lungs again, the skin that had been previously covered by his touch left cold in its absence. You absently blinked at the silk under you as your heart pounded in your chest, your thoughts turning cloudy as you tried to pinpoint just exactly what had just happened. Not even you and your affinity to ignore what was right in front of you could pretend like that had been naught. 

𝐘𝐎𝐔 had known Valarr ever since you were merely seven years old and your father left you under the care of King Daeron and his wife, Queen Myriah. He had been the one to find you tucked beneath an alder tree as you wept for the family that left you, and he had been the one to offer you patience and companionship in a time when you felt overwhelmed and all alone. Over time, he had become someone you would consider to be your most loyal advocate, your most trusted listening ear, and your sturdiest shoulder to lean on. He had, in short, become your closest friend. 

However, as you grew older and remained within the vast walls of the Red Keep and childhood faded away, the way you felt for Valarr began to shape into something… Different. Moments between the two of you had become charged with something bright and fiery, always leaving you with flushed cheeks and a racing heart. Should your skin accidentally brush against his, it would make your spine tingle with a warmth that was, at the time, unfamiliar to you. He had already plagued your every waking thought plenty enough, but it wasn't long until you could not escape him even in your slumber.

You began to dream of him more often than not. You would dream of his laughter, of the curve of his mouth when he smiled, of the softness of his multicolored eyes when they gazed down at you. You would dream of his lips and what they might feel like on your own, of how his hands might feel against parts of you that only you had yet to touch. You would wake up covered in a sheen of sweat, breathless and dazed as you tried to compose yourself before your handmaidens would come to ready you for the day. 

The more frequently these dreams occurred, the harder it got to ignore the way you felt for what it truly was, but as everything did, the truth reared its ugly head and made it impossible for you to deny. The acceptance had not come softly. Not in the slightest. It washed over you with the scorching heat of dragonfire, fierce and undeniably ironclad. It left you burning with desire for something that you knew you could not have. It left you with the earth tilting realization that, throughout all of the years you spent by his side, you had undoubtedly fallen for Valarr Targaryen somewhere along the way.

In truth, it was hard not to fall for him in some capacity. He was kind, gentle, and charming in many ways the other boys at court were not. He was thoughtful in subtle, quiet aspects that would typically go unnoticed, but meant everything to you. He would wordlessly sit with you under the alder tree in the Godswood on the days when you missed your family. He would provide you with distractions on the days that he knew that silence would swallow you whole if you let it. He would plead with his grandsire and father to let you join him on trips under the guise of expanding your knowledge of other courts, when in truth, it was only because he thought your company made traveling far more bearable.

So, yes. It was quite difficult not to fall for Valarr when he treated you like you belonged rather than an outsider one was forced to be kind to. When he acted as if your presence was a blessing, and not a hindrance. Even so, you were wise enough to keep the nature of your feelings to yourself because, at the end of the day, you knew who he was.

The heir to the heir. Second in line to the Iron Throne.

He and everyone who knew him understood what position he was to take when the time came, and with that came its own designation of duties. Duties that had been determined for him long before he ever drew his first breath. Duties that would ensure he was fit to rule the Seven Kingdoms when that day would come. Duties that left little up to choice, and most up to obligation. Valarr had always accepted it all without complaint. He had gracefully withstood it all as he was taught because he knew that’s what a great leader was to do, but there was one duty in particular he had yet to fulfill. 

Marriage.

Though it was not for lack of trying. King Daeron and his eldest son had received proposals from the moment Valarr had been born, but the rebellion had further complicated that matter. Intentions and needs had shifted due to the quiet unrest that lingered even years after the end of Daemon Blackfyre’s uprising. But Valarr was of age and had been so for some time, and the king and his hand knew they had little time left to waste. They sent word to all corners of Westeros, and some of Essos, that when the moon had turned thrice, they were to hold a presentation at court for all available ladies of the realm to attend. It would allow them to be presented before the crown and be considered for betrothal to Valarr Targaryen.

The mere idea of the spectacle made your stomach turn. It made your chest burn with an envy so hideous that you would frequently find yourself kneeling at the altar to beg for forgiveness. Your bitterness was unjust and undeserved. You knew that, but that never prevented the scowl that etched its way on your face when you heard the whispers. Whispers of who was attending, whispers of who they thought might end up by the prince’s side, whispers of the kind of rumors that made you want to hurl. They were everywhere. On every breath, around every corner, under every stone. They were impossible to escape. 

“My lady,” Aely announced herself as she stepped into your chambers with a piece of parchment in her hands, the corners of her lips twitching as she fought off a smile, “There has been word from your house! Your mother and father will be making way for the reception.”

“Really,” You squealed, rushing towards her to take the letter from her hands.

Your fingers brushed over the ink, excitement melting into confusion as your eyes gliding over their words over and over to ensure that you had not misread them. To ensure that you were understanding your father's scribe correctly, and that you had not failed to miss something. Surely, certainly, you had skimmed over an important detail by accident. You read the letter four more times over, but the outcome remained the same. There was no mistaking what had been written. 

“Wait,” You let out, face twisted in confusion as you gaped at the paper, “They mean to present me to the King? As an option for Prince Valarr?”

“Yes, my lady,” Aely confirmed as she took a few delicate steps towards your stunned figure, “Are you truly surprised?” 

Her question struck you in a quiet way. It wasn’t crass or accusatory. It was plain and honest. Are you surprised that your father is latching on to the potential of you marrying a future king? Is it truly so shocking that they are eager to get you wed at all?

“No, I suppose I am not,” You dropped your arms to your side and let out a deep breath, “I do believe finding me a suitable husband had been part of my arrangement here, but I never… I did not think they would proposition me to a member of the royal house.”

Aely let a heavy pause fall between you before she placed a hand on your elbow, bringing your attention to her as she asked, “Do you not wish for it to be so?”

“You know what I wish,” You murmured, your cheeks warming before your shoulders fell and a solemn look passed over your face, “But I fear I can not compete with the other ladies of the realm. Not in this manner. I have been of age for a time and have had no luck yet in finding a husband. I have been a ward of the Targarayen’s longer than not, they have known I am unwed. Vala— They clearly do not think me suitable for the young prince. What luck do I have that would change that now?”

Her eyes softened at your glistening ones, and her voice was earnest as she said, “You may not yet see what I see, but I do not believe that you need luck, my lady.”

It was not long before nobles from all across the map began to fill the courtyards and common areas of the Red Keep. No corner or hall was left unoccupied, every inch of the castle alive with movement or gossip. When given the chance, most of the lords trailed after King Daeron or Prince Baelor while their daughters busied themselves with attempts at catching the eye of Valarr, and it was only the first night of festivities. If you had to endure an entire fortnight of this, you are certain you would find yourself locked in your chambers by the third day because you had gone absolutely mad. 

Aely and a few of the handmaids had just finished readying you for the first night's feast when your door was pushed open by a guard. He modestly stepped into the room, ensuring that his eyes stayed trained on the wall opposite where you stood, and he announced the arrival of your mother. You quickly shared an excited look with the girls while you beckoned him to let her in, and they inclined their necks in a polite bow before they took their leave.

“Mother,” You happily greeted as she waltzed through the wooden doors, and you surged towards her with a bright smile on your face.

“Hello, my little sweetling,” She softly addressed, wrapping her arms around you in a warm and secure embrace, “I’m so happy to see you. It has been far too long.”

You hugged her tightly, and tears burned your eyes as you melted into her. Having lived in the Red Keep longer than your own family’s home, you had always felt a lingering sense of loss of identity. You often wondered if you would have turned out the same if you were raised amongst your house, and you would think about the moments and traditions you never got to be a part of. The feeling has gotten easier to manage over the years, but the weight of it truly falls when you reunite with them again. 

“It has,” You agreed, stepping out of her old to gently wipe at your cheeks, “I’m so happy you are here. Where is father?”

“Oh, he has gone to hunt down his Grace the King and Prince Baelor,” She chuckled as she placed her hand on your cheek, her eyes descending down to your dress, “I see there has been some influence to your dress since the last time we visited.”

You followed her line of sight down to the subtle weaves of black and red that seamlessly blended with the colors of your own house, and your face flushed in mortification. Your hands moved to cover the stitchings, but it was no use. Not only because she had already seen, but because they were all over. 

“I apologize, mother,” You sputtered as embarrassment crawled up your neck, “I– I hadn–”

“Sweetling,” She interrupted with a hint of amusement in her voice, her grip on your jaw carefully tightening, “It is quite alright. You have been here for over half your life, I am not surprised they have had such an impact on you. Even so, I suspect it is not long until their colors take over your entire wardrobe.”

You walked through the halls with your mother by your side, and you felt a great deal lighter than you had felt when you woke this morning. While you learned to appreciate the blessing it was to live in the Keep with the royal house, you ached for these kinds of moments. Moments shared between mother and daughter were not something that could be replicated, no matter how much you had grown to care for your septa on her good days, or had grown to love the Princess Jena, may the Gods keep her. 

The great hall was full of life, as it always was when the highborn people of Westeros filled it to the brim, yet your eyes were instantly pulled towards the one person you could pick out in a room so crowded. Even if it weren’t for their lavish black and red clothing or the fact that he stood near the King’s high table, you would still be able to find him, just as he had always been able to find you. One might say it was a skill acquired after years of searching one another out, but those who knew you both knew it had been something that was not learned. It was an act that had always come to you and Valarr as easily as breathing. 

The second Valarr’s gaze collided with your own, you bowed your head in acknowledgment, and he did the same in return. The corners of your lips tugged upwards into a smile that was polite and courteous, all too aware of the watchful eyes that followed. It seemed as Valarr didn’t care for their perceptive gazes as he gave you the same bright smile he always had. A spell of silence fell over the room as they glanced between you, but chatter quickly filled the space all over again as if it had never gotten quiet to begin with.

Your steadiness didn’t falter at the snobbish glares that burned holes in your back, or at their unfavorable murmurs as you passed by them. You kept your spine steeled and your head high, only looking in front of you as you were guided to one of the long tables. There was a gentle pressure on your elbow that startled you, your eyes flashing to your left, only to find that it was your mother who still stood beside you.

“The two of you are still close,” She surveyed. However, her words were more of a statement rather than a question.

“Yes,” You nodded, fighting off the flush that crawled to your cheeks, “We are.” 

She said nothing in response, but the look on her face said more than any of her words could.

As you approached, you quickly greeted those who surrounded the table with well-mannered grins and courteous ‘hello’s. They all made the same remarks about how much you had matured since the last time you had seen them, about how you had grown into your formerly awkward features, and you uncomfortably laughed until your father swooped in to save the day. You stepped into his outstretched arms, and he placed a small kiss on your temple. He gave you a once over and asked how you had been, but he was quick to reveal that he had just finished speaking to the King about the potential of betrothing you to his grandson.

He bragged about the advantage he thought you had, being the Targaryen’s ward and friend to the prince, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him that you didn’t believe it to be the upper hand he thought it to be. If that had any influence on their decision, why would they feel the need to host such an extravagant event? Why would they insist on the noble men and women of the Known Lands making the long journey if they had any intention of selecting you at all? Instead, you happily listened to him go on because at least you were hearing his words, and not reading them on a page. 

When the food had been brought out and people began to fill their plates, you couldn’t help but glance to where the King and his family sat in front of the iron throne. On any other given day, you would have been sitting with them, but it was agreed that it would not be fair if you were to continue doing so. Not while so many houses had traveled days, or even weeks, for their daughters, sisters, and nieces to be considered for Valarr’s hand. Prince Baelor had said, while your absence will weigh heavily on them, he did not want the others to feel as if they were intentionally favoring you, and discourage them from the reason they were all there.

“We are intentionally favoring her,” Valarr had mumbled under his breath. 

Once people had their fill of feasting and many cups of wine, they had pushed all of the tables aside to make room for dancing, but you were not in the dancing mood. Not after having to listen to so many men argue about who was going to return home a victor, or who would be leaving with a direct line to the crown. They spoke of Valarr like he was some sort of prize, a favor to be won, and not a person who had carried the weight of his future on his shoulders as soon as he was old enough to understand just how heavy it was. It had been hard enough to bite your tongue at the table, and with your patience already worn thin, you knew better than to let the drunken sea of them surround you completely.

You found yourself tucked behind one of the large pillars in the hall as your gaze flickered about the swarm of people. Your eyes bounced from person to person, watching as they mingled, as they drifted amongst one another with sottish grins, but there was one particular interaction that snagged your attention. Valarr stood at the bottom of the stairs beneath the high table with his hands folded behind his back speaking to whom you believe to be the middle daughter of Lord Lannister. Celia, you think her name was.

She was standing a little closer than what you would consider to be honorable, and she wore the kind of shrewd grin that her house was known for as they twisted conversations and conditions in their favor. He was peering down at her with a smile that you knew was one he reserved for formalities and courtly meetings, but it made your skin burn, and your chest tighten all the same. You found it impossible to look away, seemingly content with inflicting your own torment and self ruin, but then Valarr’s focus shifted towards you.

He watched you as you hastily slipped your attention back to the crowd in hopes that he hadn’t noticed you staring, no doubt. But, he had. He had known you were watching from the moment your gaze had settled on him, and now that he had managed to get your attention, he was not ready to give it up so easily. Without one last civil glance at the lady before him, Valarr respectfully excused himself and made his way to where you pretended not to notice his approaching figure.

“My lady,” Valarr’s smooth, polished voice greeted once he was only a few paces from you, “I have yet to receive the honor of your presence all day. I am beginning to think you are avoiding me.”

“Avoiding you,” You parroted, a certain edge to your tone that made his brow twitch in curiosity, “My apologies, my prince. I am not avoiding you. It is only that you seem otherwise occupied.”

Valarr’s head canted as he observed you, noting the tautness to your shoulders and the impossible veil of passiveness you had cast over your face. To most, you would appear as a lady disinterested in revelry, but to Valarr, you were the picture of utter discontentment, and it amused him greatly. Not because he enjoyed seeing you so frazzled at his expense, but because it was not often that you shirked your cloak of poise and composure. Even when it was only the two of you, it was rare for him to see you anything other than placid, especially as you had grown older and blossomed into a lady. 

“That is true,” He hummed as he folded his hands behind his perfectly postured back, the ever flawless image of steadiness and regality, “I must admit, I do quite enjoy the flattery I have been receiving all day.”

The way your jaw tightened was fleeting, gone almost as quickly as it arrived, but it was unmistakable to him. He had seen it, and he was relishing in it. It made his eyes glow with a light that would only ever spark for you, and it made him smile in a way he had not smiled all day. This one was real, not calculated or rehearsed for the ladies who doted on him, and it made some of the weight he had been carrying all day roll off his shoulders. Being around you always had that effect on him.

You pulled a breath into your lungs, giving him a pointed glare that wasn’t as sharp as you’d like it to be. He was intentionally goading you, searching for a reaction that you would not willingly give to him. He had thought it a game, that his attempts to rile you up were merely fun and lighthearted jests, when to you it was anything but. When he would playfully mock you, it felt as if he was toying with your heart, and so you refused to let yourself fall victim to his attempts. Or, at least, you tried to. You were not perfect, after all.

“I was unaware that you needed your ego stroked so loudly, my prince,” You flatly replied, shifting your gaze back to the hoard of people behind him. 

“I am but a man, after all, my lady,” He listlessly shrugged. Though his eyes were bright with satisfaction and gaiety. 

“That you are, my prince,” You fought off the scowl that threatened your feigned neutrality, your voice lowering to a whisper so quiet that you barely heard yourself, “A truth I have been endlessly reminded of today.”

The conversation lulled, and the sounds of laughter, music, and distinct chatter filled the space between you. You could feel the press of his stare on the side of your face, but you chose to busy yourself with watching people dance as a distraction. In truth, you had always quite liked dancing. You found the fluidity and intimacy of it to be one of the purest forms of art. The way bodies fell in sync with the music, or with their partner before them; it was captivatingly beautiful. If you hadn’t been in such a sour mood, you would have happily been amongst them. 

“I loathe your insistence on formalities sometimes,” He spoke again, playfully shaking his head as dimples indented his cheeks, “There is no one close enough to hear if you call me by my name.”

You gingerly tilt your head as if you were considering the underlying suggestion in his words before your gaze flickered back to him. His face was illuminated by the torches that lined the wall behind you, the fire casting enough light to showcase the freckles dusted across his cheeks and nose. His two-toned eyes smoothly danced across your face, and, for a moment, the world around you melted away until there was only the two of you left. Chords of music and laughter faded away into nothing, only the echo of your heart thrumming in your ears remained. You didn’t let it stay that way for too long. 

KEY: ♯Angst / ⚠︎ Suggestive/18+ / 𝜗𝜚 Fluff

[ ONE SHOTS ]

𝓥𝓪𝓵𝓪𝓻𝓻 𝓣𝓪𝓻𝓰𝓪𝓻𝔂𝓮𝓷 Nothing here now.

𝓐𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓣𝓪𝓻𝓰𝓪𝓻𝔂𝓮𝓷 001. Who I Thought You Were. ♯ 𝜗𝜚

⌇Modern!Aerion coming soon…

𝓒𝓻𝓮𝓰𝓪𝓷 𝓢𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓴 Nothing here now.

[ SERIES ]

𝓥𝓪𝓵𝓪𝓻𝓻 𝓣𝓪𝓻𝓰𝓪𝓻𝔂𝓮𝓷 001. I Do Not Burn, Yet I Fall ♯ 𝜗𝜚 ⚠︎ ⌇ He was the future of the realm, he was bound by duty and honor. You were only a lady whose highest honor was being the Targaryen's ward. You were not an even match, you were not one worthy enough of marrying a prince, and that was a fact you had always known. When King Daeron decides it’s time to find a wife for his grandson, what you thought you had always known changes, and you’re not entirely sure it’s for the better. One overheard conversation and a less than honorable confrontation later, things become a lot clearer than ever before.

𝓐𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓣𝓪𝓻𝓰𝓪𝓻𝔂𝓮𝓷 Nothing here now.

𝓒𝓻𝓮𝓰𝓪𝓷 𝓢𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓴 Nothing here now.

[ BLURBS ]

𝓥𝓪𝓵𝓪𝓻𝓻 𝓣𝓪𝓻𝓰𝓪𝓻𝔂𝓮𝓷 Nothing here now.

𝓐𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓣𝓪𝓻𝓰𝓪𝓻𝔂𝓮𝓷 Nothing here now.

𝓒𝓻𝓮𝓰𝓪𝓷 𝓢𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓴 Nothing here now.

KEY: ♯Angst / ⚠︎ Suggestive/18+ / 𝜗𝜚 Fluff

[ ONE SHOTS ]

𝓐𝔃𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓵 001. Interwoven ♯ ⌇You had given up hope that you would find your mate, and you never let yourself think it would ever be the one person you wanted it to be. You should know better than to question fate.

[ SERIES ]

𝓐𝔃𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓵 001. No One Knows ♯ ⚠︎ 𝜗𝜚 ⌇coming soon… or at least, eventually. (Will ACOTAR 6 come out first or will this fic???)

[ BLURBS ]

Nothing here now.

KEY: ♯Angst / ⚠︎ Suggestive/18+ / 𝜗𝜚 Fluff

[ ONE SHOTS ]

𝓒𝓵𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓚𝓮𝓷𝓽 Nothing here now.

𝓓𝓲𝓬𝓴 𝓖𝓻𝓪𝔂𝓼𝓸𝓷 Nothing here now.

𝓙𝓪𝓼𝓸𝓷 𝓣𝓸𝓭𝓭 Nothing here now.

𝓙𝓲𝓶𝓶𝔂 𝓞𝓵𝓼𝓮𝓷 Nothing here now.

[ SERIES ]

𝓒𝓵𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓚𝓮𝓷𝓽 Nothing here now.

𝓓𝓲𝓬𝓴 𝓖𝓻𝓪𝔂𝓼𝓸𝓷 Nothing here now.

𝓙𝓪𝓼𝓸𝓷 𝓣𝓸𝓭𝓭 Nothing here now.

𝓙𝓲𝓶𝓶𝔂 𝓞𝓵𝓼𝓮𝓷 Nothing here now.

[ BLURBS ]

𝓒𝓵𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓚𝓮𝓷𝓽 001. Does this mean you'll delete tinder? 𝜗𝜚

𝓓𝓲𝓬𝓴 𝓖𝓻𝓪𝔂𝓼𝓸𝓷 001. Why are you back? ♯ 𝜗𝜚 coming soon…

𝓙𝓪𝓼𝓸𝓷 𝓣𝓸𝓭𝓭 Nothing here now.

𝓙𝓲𝓶𝓶𝔂 𝓞𝓵𝓼𝓮𝓷 001. Where's your jacket? 𝜗𝜚