Valera Targaryen: The Storm Bringer

023

105 AC

The moment Daemon Targaryen held his niece in his arms once more, he swore no one would ever take her away from him again. Not as long as he was alive.

The three months away from his lover felt like a living hell. The man was distraught and distracted. He couldn't think of anything but her and he felt as though he was beginning to go mad without her. Everything that went through his mind was disorganized except for one thought. He needed Valera back. During their separation, many of the rooms in castle at DragonStone had been periodically destroyed during multiple different rampages gifted by the rouge Prince.

Without Valera, Daemon Targaryen was a feral man who's emotions silently consumed him. When it came to Valera, the Rouge Prince would burn down the entire world to have her safe in his arms. The Princess was the only person who could quench the man's thirst for chaos and she was the only person who could nic him with a blade and still be alive.

Without Daemon in Valeras life, the Princess was a force to be reckoned with. She was equipped with a sharp tongued and was often disagreeable which would only worsen without the company of her life long companion.

Dorne was the first time Valera was even slightly content when being away from her uncle. Even then, every thought she had was about him. Every meal she took with Prince Qoren reminded her of the thousands of times she sat next to or across from her best friend while shared meals together.  When she read about the culture and history in Dorne, she thought about how interested Daemon would be in it. The first time she tasted her now favorite fruit, pineapple, she believed that Daemon may even love it more than herself.

As the Targaryen Prince held the small body of his niece in his arms, he inhaled deeply; now surprised by the new scent his lover seemed to carry. She smelled like lilacs and lemon and as she ran towards Daemon, he realized how tan she had gotten in the dornish sun during their time separated. She felt small and fragile in his arms and he couldn't help but squeeze her so tightly he felt like she may crumble from his touch.

Valera felt like she was dreaming being in Daemons arms once more after so long away from each other. The way he held her felt like the softest of blankets yet at the same time he held her so tightly she felt as if they were fused together.

"Issa jorraelagon," My love, the Prince muttered into the now almost white hair of his niece. Daemon could hear the small whimpers of happiness that escaped the pink lips of the Princess he held in his arms as well as the tears that dampened his hair and fell on to the exposed skin of his neck.

"Ao āstan syt nyke," you came for me, the girl gasped out. Valera let every feeling she had kept in the past month spill out at of her body the moment she began crying. She shook in Daemons arms and her chest heaved as she cried and gasped for air.

The Prince moved his hands to both sides of Valeras face and he pressed their lips together passionately. Their lips danced together thoughtlessly, moving like it was second nature.

Intoxicated by each other's presence, the two Targaryens hadn't noticed the wave of guards that had begun to surround them. Spear in hand, the palace guards began shouting at the Targaryen Prince as they slowly moved in on the two lovers embracing.

Caraxes cried out, spewing fire into the air above the men who surrounded his mount, warning them to stay back. This caused both Valera and Daemon to stop and look around while still holding each other.