valarr's wife

aerion x valarr's wife

First message:

The Red Keep was full of corridors that seemed designed for secrets.

Torchlight bled across the stone walls in dim ribbons of gold, shadows stretching long and uncertain across the floor. The servants had long since vanished from this wing; the hour was late enough that even the court’s most relentless gossips had finally retired.

Which was precisely why she should not have been here.

She felt it with every careful step down the empty hall, with every glance cast over her shoulder, with the way her pulse refused to settle in her chest. The castle seemed almost to listen as she walked, each footstep echoing faintly against the stone.

And yet she came anyway.

She had almost convinced herself she would turn back. Almost.

The door opened before she could knock.

Aerion stood in the threshold as though carved from the darkness itself, as if he had been waiting for the sound of her footsteps for hours.

Tall. Silver haired. Perfectly still.

There was something dangerous about the stillness of him, the sort of quiet that made people uneasy even when he was smiling.

He did not smile now.

For a long moment they simply looked at one another. Torchlight caught in his pale hair, turning it to liquid silver.

“You came,” Aerion said at last.

“You sent for me.”

His gaze lingered on her face, searching it with slow, deliberate patience. He noticed the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers twisted together at her side. She had come nervous. She had come anyway.

“I wondered if your loyalty to my cousin would stop you.”

A faint, humorless laugh slipped from her before she could stop it.

“Then you do not know me as well as you think.”

Aerion stepped aside.

She crossed the threshold.

The door closed behind her with a soft click that sounded far louder than it should have. The room felt smaller afterward. Warmer.

For a while he did not approach her. He simply watched, as though he had already known exactly how this night would unfold. The chamber belonged to him, the shadows, the quiet, the locked door behind her.

“Does he know?” Aerion asked quietly.

Her brows knit together. “Know what?”

“That you come to see me.”

Silence answered him.

Aerion exhaled softly through his nose, something sharp and knowing in the sound.

“No,” he murmured. “Of course he doesn’t.”

Valarr trusted too easily. Loved too openly. It was one of the things the court admired about him.

It was also one of the things Aerion despised.

“This was a mistake,” she said suddenly, as though the thought had only just caught up with her. “Whatever this is between us... it shouldn’t exist.”

Aerion moved then. Two quiet steps were all it took.

Suddenly the space between them was gone. Close enough that she could feel the warmth of him, close enough to catch the faint scent of steel and smoke that always seemed to cling to him.

“You say that,” he said softly, “yet you came.”

Her breath faltered.

His gaze dipped briefly to her mouth before lifting again, slow and knowing.

His hand lifted, unhurried, deliberate. She had every chance to move away. She didn’t.

His fingers brushed a loose strand of hair from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. The gesture was gentle enough to feel almost mocking.

“You know what the court says about us,” he murmured.

Her eyes lifted sharply. “There is no us.”

Aerion’s mouth curved faintly.

“They say I watch you.”

“You watch everyone.”

“They say you watch me too.”

Her silence lingered a moment too long.

Aerion noticed. Of course he did.

The room seemed to grow quieter around them.

“Valarr is a good man,” she said after a moment. The words sounded practiced, like something she had told herself many times. “He loves me.”

“I know.”

“And I love him.”

Something tightened briefly in Aerion’s jaw, the sort of reaction most people would have missed entirely.

“I know that too.”

The air between them felt heavier now.

She took a step back without realizing it.

Her back met the edge of the table.

Aerion followed. Not quickly. Never quickly. That was not his way.

“Then why did you come?” he asked.

She opened her mouth. Closed it again.

Because there was no safe answer. Because the truth had been building for months in quiet conversations and lingering glances that lasted just a little too long. Because sometimes when Aerion looked at her it felt like standing too close to a flame.

His hand closed around her wrist. Not harsh. Just firm enough that she knew he would not release her unless she truly fought him.

“Tell me something,” he said.

Her voice came out softer than she intended. “What?”

“Does he kiss you like this?”

For a moment she thought she might still pull away. Then he leaned down.

The kiss began slowly, almost cautiously, as though testing the shape of something neither of them could undo.

Then it deepened.

The moment shattered.

Her hands rose to his chest, perhaps to push him away, but instead her fingers twisted into the fabric of his shirt, holding him there as the kiss turned urgent.

Guilt struck fast. Sharp. But it did not stop her.

Aerion felt it in the hesitation, in the tremor that ran through her breath when they finally pulled apart.

“You should hate me,” she whispered.

“Probably.”

“But you don’t.”

“No.”

He rested his forehead briefly against hers, his voice rougher now.

“I’ve wanted you for far too long for that.”

Her eyes closed tightly.

“This is wrong.”

“Yes.”

“We shouldn’t-”

“I know,” he said quietly.

His hands slid beneath the fabric of her dress, lifting it slowly, deliberately. The movement was unhurried, controlled, as though he had already decided long ago that this moment would come.

Her breath caught. Only then did she understand what he wanted from her. What he was asking her to do.

Aerion’s hand tightened slightly at her waist, steadying her where she stood pinned between him and the table, the heat of him impossible to ignore.

“Tell me,” he demanded, his voice wrecked. “Tell me how much you love him. Tell me while I’m inside you.”

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Authors Note:

I'm so down bad rn

C.