Guided by the Fourteen Flames of Old Valyria, Valarr Targaryen, Bastard of the Blackwater, restores glory to a house that would rather forget his name.
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HOUSE OF THE DRAGON
SEASON 1
MALE OC X AEMOND TARGARYEN
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114 AC
Valarr's hair clung to his forehead. The sleeves of his shirt were pulled up to his elbows, and the skin that showed was covered in sweat and smudges of coal. Yet, he continued grinding the dagger in his hand against the whetstone. Beside him on the table lay the nine daggers he had already sharpened. In the bucket next to his knee lay a dozen more.
He could hear the loud clang of metal on metal in the Training Yard. A few steps away, a smith worked a large grindstone, restoring the training swords to a better condition. Lenn was born of the common folk — his father was a smith who worked on the Street of Steel. He learned what he could from his father, who learned from his father, and his father before that. There was always much pride when Lenn spoke about it. It was refreshing. Even better, Lenn didn't mind that he was a bastard. In truth, he didn't think that Lenn cared for much besides his work.
It made Valarr's work as a page go much smoother. After begging Viserys, his cousin finally relented and allowed him to shadow Ser Gideon with. He wasn't a squire; Viserys made that clear, but Valarr was determined to become one. In the meantime, he was given a handful of responsibilities. His least favourite had to be playing messenger — for obvious reasons. Most days, he would return to his chambers covered in dirt and grime, and the Queen would forbid him from seeing Aegon, Helaena and Aemond until he was clean. Valarr found it funny since Helaena never minded the dirt.
Aegon didn't either, as long as he still had time to play. The wooden Black Dread was still his favourite, and he refused to pass it down to Aemond.
Speaking of Aemond, Valarr was confident he was unlike himself and Helaena. It didn't make sense. The Flames took an interest in him when he was born. They even spoke about him as if he were more than a babe.
The Harbinger.
It puzzled him to no end. He was dubbed strange for his inability to speak, and Helaena was no different. Both of them were disregarded by most, being labelled as slow-minded, even if they weren't. To the residents of the Red Keep, they were naturally "other." Aemond wasn't "other." He was normal, or as normal as a boy of two could get.
The Flames still refused to say anything about it, so he learned to stop asking.
Finishing another dagger, Valarr tossed it onto the table. Out in front of him, he had a perfect view of Ser Gideon and another Kingsguard sparring. Without realizing it, he stopped to watch.
Ser Gideon had always been an imposing figure. Valarr never saw him as such until he witnessed him during the melee tourney held for Viserys' nameday. His sworn shield didn't plan on entering the lists, but Valarr made it happen. All he had to do was mimic his penmanship. To say Ser Gideon was mad was an understatement. Valarr was given a week's worth of laundry duty as punishment, which he had to endure because he would have looked insane trying to blame Vermax for helping him.
