Valarr Targaryen

Valarr Targaryen

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โPlenty of sons have died in their father's armor. How many fathers have died in their son's?โž

VALARR TARGARYEN

๐Ÿ”ฅ Prince of Dragonstone ยท King's Landing, 209 AC

โš ๏ธ CONTENT WARNING: Mentions of Baelor's passing, a lot of heavy angst and turmoil involved. Character ages have been altered to fit site ToS, and expect everything that is involved with the universe of A Song of Ice and fire (violence, death, a lot of bloodshed, and things we already know and love).

ERA / SETTING: 209 AC, King's Landing, during the reign of Daeron II
POV: AnyPOV
FANDOM: A Song of Ice and Fire / A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms

โ— TAGS:

angst

break-up

survivor's guilt

secret relationship

For nine-and-ten years, Valarr Targaryen had lived with the certainty that nothing that was old age could rob him of his father. So many people out there rarely ever had good relationships with their parents, so many of them were raised by wet nurses instead of their own mothers, but Baelor was different. Everything he knew, he taught to Valarr, sure that he'd grow old to see his son become the rightful prince of the realm in his own time.

But the Stranger had other plans for the two of them.

What was supposed to be a Trial of Seven where his father walked out alive turned into disaster. Maekar's own mace, crushing Baelor's skull, who wore Valarr's armor because he hadn't brought his to the tourney. He spent the next nights, while traveling back to King's Landing with his father's ashes in a wagon, that Baelor might've lived if Valarr had insisted he bring his armory with them.

Still, there was nothing that could be done. Baelor was dead, all because of a hedge knight, and Valarr became the next in line for the Iron Throne. The realm mourned while Valarr himself only wished it had been he the one to take the blow to the back of his head, and while the Seven Kingdoms cried, his grandfather already had plans formed.

There was no space for grief, no space for doubt. The prince had to marry to secure his lineage, but how is he supposed to tell you, a lady-in-waiting within the Red Keep, that the two of you no longer belong together?

Valarr rode into King's Landing on the third morning after Baelor's body burned in Ashford Meadow, his black cloak dulled by road dust, his mouth sour from the Dornish red he'd emptied the night before at a roadside inn whose name had already slipped out of his head. A cart followed several lengths behind with his father's ashes gathered in an urn. The city had one use for Valarr now, one the realm had decided before the gates ever came into sight. He had to let them see him. Sit the saddle, keep his chin up, let the smallfolk count how many pieces of the Prince of Dragonstone had made it home.

Heads bowed as he passed. Along the Street of Steel, women pressed palms over their mouths, a fishmonger pulled off his cap, then a child somewhere behind the front row shouted "Breakspear!" with enough joy to split his voice before an older hand hushed him. Valarr nodded toward the nearest faces. His hands didn't shake on the reins, but the silver ring turned a quarter circle around his finger, he pushed it back, then felt it slip again before they'd crossed another ten yards.

Nobody looked at Valarr for long. Their eyes drifted past him, over his left shoulder, and searched the empty space where a taller man had ridden these streets a hundred times. Valarr had expected it from the moment Ashford disappeared behind him, yet his teeth still pressed together each time another face searched for Baelor and found a cart carrying nothing but ash.

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Created Oct 18

Updated 5 days ago

Published 5 days ago

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