THE UNION OF THE PRINCE OF DORNE AND THE REALM'S JEWEL
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117 AC, King's Landing
"You are not making this journey and that's final," Valyria said firmly.
"Need I remind you that I am your King, Lyria," Viserys snapped at her. "You can't order me to do anything."
Sighing in annoyance - stubbornness truly was a trait shared by all Targaryens - she sat down on his bedside. Since the tragic wedding between Rhaenyra and Laenor that had ended with the King collapsing, he had been bedridden. His fragile health could not handle all the stress.
Now, a moon later, it was time for Valyria to travel to Dorne for her wedding with Prince Qoren and Viserys was insisting on coming along. Ridden with guilt for how he wasn't there for her when she married Lucian Lannister, he wanted to do better this time. When Valyria left for Casterly Rock she had been furious with him and he had not heard or seen from her in years - that was not something he wished to repeat.
"I won't abandon you again-"
"Viserys," Valyria took the hand that still held all his fingers between hers, "you are not abandoning me. I know that you wish to come with me - but you have to care for your own health right now. Do you remember how sick you became during the trip to Driftmark? You'd have to endure days of that before you reached Sunspear. I am a grown woman, I can give away myself a second time."
"You shouldn't have to," Viserys sighed tiredly. "Perhaps this alliance with Dorne was a bad idea. Otto was very adamant about it, after all."
"Otto was likely adamant about you accepting Qoren's proposal because he found it offensive when I attended the Small Council meetings. He wanted me shipped off to Dorne where I could force my opinions on somebody else," Valyria reasoned. "The alliance itself can be an important step in unifying Dorne under Targaryen rule. This far, we have only ever fought against them."
"You think Prince Qoren will bend the knee?" Viserys asked, surprised by her ambition.
"Judging by how he spoke when we met, no," Valyria confessed. "But I will be the Princess of Dorne and my influence will at least not worsen the chances that Dorne one day will be placed under Targaryen rule. From the day our first child is born, House Martell will have dragon-blood running through their veins."
"Shouldn't that be a cause for us to worry?" Viserys pointed out. "What gives us strength is that the ability to fly dragons - to bond with them - is kept within the family."
"Mayhaps we should change our words from Fire and Blood to 'Kept within the family'," Valyria joked. It might be her Stark blood coming into play, but Valyria had never understood her family's insistence to hold onto the incestious traditions of their ancestors. Daeron Targaryen, her father, had shared those views - she knew that. He had a total of seven sisters but chose to marry outside the family either way. Albeit, many of those sisters had not lived long enough to be candidates even.
Princess Daenerys was a year older than the deceased Prince of Dragonstone and according to stories the Darling of the Realm had been a delight to all who knew her. Queen Alysanne believed that Daenerys, as the eldest, should be the king's heir and first in line to the throne. King Jaehaerys, however, regarded Prince Daeron as his heir since the day he had been born. Queen Alysanne often voiced her displeasure to the king, reminding him that Daenerys was older and should therefore be queen, Jaehaerys would reply telling her that Daenerys would become queen after she married Daeron, and rule the kingdoms by his side.
Had the Shivers not struck Westeros, taking the life of Princess Daenerys, Valyria might never have been born. The plague took the life of the realm's beloved princess when she was only seven years old which left Daeron without a betrothed.
The same year Daenerys died, Princess Alyssa was born. As a baby, Alyssa resembled her deceased sister, however this resemblance faded with age. As the eldest daughter of the King, she was considered a suitable candidate to wed Prince Daeron. Only Queen Alysanne firmly refused such a match, claiming Alyssa was meant for Baelon. Had she not, Viserys and Daemon would not have been born either.
Princess Magelle was born only three years after Alyssa and could have been a suitable match had she not at the age of ten been promised to the Faith of the Seven. The remainder of Septa Magelle's life was spent in devotion to the Seven but came to the family's aid more than once by settling quarrels between her parents - the most common one being the line of succession. She died at the age of four-and-thirty when nursing children afflicted with greyscale.
Princess Daella was the eighth born child of King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne and the fourth daughter. She was a shy girl - even from a young age - and was not even considered a bride for Prince Daeron. Instead she was supposed to wed her older brother, Vaegon, but the two disliked each other greatly. After years of attempting to find a husband for the easily frightened princess, King Jaehaerys threatened to force her to become a silent sister since she could not follow Magelle's footsteps due to her inability to read prayers. Eventually she was wed to Rodrik Arryn but died less than three years later from the fevers that came after giving birth to their only child, Aemma Arryn.
As a complete contrast to the sweet and gentle Daella, the nextborn child, Princess Saera, was tempestuous, demanding, and disobedient even from a young age. She was without a doubt the most mischievous out of all her siblings - who liked or disliked her in different degrees - and her septa even considered her to be an evil child. For a while Saera too had been considered a match for Vaegon - but never Daeron - and in the end, the scandal she caused had led to a lifelong exile in Essos.
Princess Viserra was born sixteen years after Prince Daeron and was said to have been the most beautiful out of all the sisters but very vain and manipulative. Her greatest ambition was to become queen and therefore she had her eyes on her eldest brother who remained unmarried. Only Queen Alysanne was determined to stop that from happening and instead the young girl was betrothed to Theomore Manderly. According to some rumours that Valyria had heard, Viserra made an attempt to sway her older brother by slipping past his guards and climbing naked into his bed; but Prince Daeron sent the drunk girl away and before her marriage could take place she died from a broken neck after falling off her horse during a night out in the city.
The last daughter born of the Old King and Good Queen was Gael who never was considered a candidate for becoming the Prince of Dragonstone's wife. Gael died only a year before her mother and it was later revealed that she had been impregnated by a travelling singer and overwhelmed by grief she had drowned herself in Blackwater Bay.
Seven sisters and her father had not wedded any of them. For years he had managed to postpone every match King Jaehaerys suggested, reminding his father of how he had two younger brothers to succeed him, as he determinedly searched for the perfect match outside House Targaryen.
Valyria had no memories of her mother, Elara Stark, who passed shortly after giving birth to her. In blood, Valyria was as much Stark as she was Targaryen but in name she would always be a dragon. According to her northern relatives, Valyria had inherited her mother's cheekbones and the shape of her eyes, but other than that she was the epitome of a Valyrian beauty.
At times she believed people forgot who her mother had been. Until Valyria decided to live in Winterfell for a few years, she had spent almost her entire life in the south. First with her father, second with her grandfather and then Viserys had taken her under his wing.
"Although," Valyria smiled jokingly, "I do suppose it makes it easier to learn the family tree - since it's essentially a trunk without branches."
"I am trying to have a serious discussion with you, Lyria," Viserys half-scolded her. "How will it look if I let you travel to Dorne alone?"
"Who cares what it looks like. You are the King," Valyria told him. "Rhaenys could come with me - I am sure - to represent House Targaryen and Velaryon. I would suggest Lord Corlys too, only his recent fighting in the Stepstones will probably not sit right with the dornish."
"You don't want me to send word to Daemon to come with you?" Viserys asked dryly, his brother's name taking on a bitter tone. "As I commanded him during your last wedding."
"During that wedding his absence caused a ruckus, this time I think his presence would turn the wedding into a bloodbath," Valyria snorted, pursing her lips in annoyance; Viserys probably interpreted it as vexation directed towards Daemon for his existence, and not how she was irritated with herself for how the mere mention of his name affected her. "I have a feeling Daemon merely setting his foot in Dorne will be considered a declaration of war."
.•° ✿ °•.
Valyria Targaryen never really seemed to be completely at peace. Those who did not know her well probably thought the princess' life was near perfect. Not close enough to the throne to bear any responsibilities of being the heir but still close enough to reap the benefits of a royal life.
Few Targaryens ever mastered the ability to not keep their hearts on their sleeves. It was the dragonblood coursing through their veins that made it near impossible for many to hide their emotions - especially anger and displeasure.
Valyria however, was a mystery to many. It was rare of her to show signs of anger to anyone other than Daemon. With everyone's eyes she always acted in the most diplomatic ways possible - never starting a conflict herself but successfully ending everyone else's. Few understood how important she truly was for the Seven Kingdoms.
None of them deserved her - especially not him.
The day before Valyria's departure from King's Landing, Daemon entered the Red Keep under the cover of the night. Using the secret passageways - that he a few weeks prior had used to smuggle his niece out of the Red Keep - he managed to slip past his brother's guards with ease.
Valyria's bedchamber was completely dark. Floor-length, black curtains covered the windows, blocking out any light the moon could offer. Without any candles and with the fireplace unlit, he could barely see where he was walking. Luckily, it was not his first time sneaking into the princess apartments.
When he neared the bed, he could make out the silhouette of a figure and as he got closer, a silver head of hair became visible. The young princess laid on her side, her silver-gold hair in a loose braid slung over her shoulder. Daemon had not seen her look so peaceful since she was a little girl not yet tainted by reality.
While Valyria wasn't the sort of woman that Daemon would dare to describe as innocent but for some reason he felt as if he was tainting her. The Realm's Jewel was beloved all over the Seven Kingdoms for her kindness and she deserved the very best. Daemon was well-aware he wasn't it; that he never would deserve to be with somebody like her.
Proof enough of that was that his twisted heart didn't even care that he wasn't good enough for her. A better man would not have tried to pursue her whilst married to another.
Take me to Dragonstone and make me your wife...
Those nine words had been repeated in his head over and over again since he departed from the tragic affair that Rhaenyra and Laenor's wedding had become. If she wanted him to take her, then who was he to argue? At that moment, he was prepared to do exactly that. He couldn't give a rat's arse about what other people would think.
If you think you can make me happy, then I am yours...
The question was if he truly could make her happy. If he could give her the life she deserved. He knew that Valyria wouldn't wish to spend the rest of her life in exile; she felt at home in the Red Keep where she could use her position on the Small Council to influence matters of the realm. Of course that would not be as easy after she married that cunt Qoren Martell but surely she would figure out a way to split her time between Dorne and King's Landing.
Daemon truly resented the mere existence of the dornish prince and he'd never be good enough for Valyria. Preventing Qoren Martell from ever even thinking he had a claim on the Realm's Jewel was reason enough to take her to Dragonstone and claim her as his. It was what Daemon did when he wanted something - he took it.
For the first time in his life, he now found himself thinking about somebody else - and not only Valyria.
Cyrenna and Elara had truly grown on him.
To claim that he liked children would be a blatant lie. Yet somehow, those two little lionesses had managed to worm their way into his cold heart. He had to think about them - what was best for their childhood. Should he marry Valyria, they would not get the stability they needed. One did not get to marry the princess without getting her daughters as well.
Daemon brushed a silver lock away from her face. Truth be told, he was a bit surprised that she had yet to wake up and punch him. The preparations for her departure combined with managing the Red Keep when the King was indisposed must have pushed her into exhaustion.
For a few seconds he stared at her peaceful face before he made his choice.
No one would ever dare to call Daemon Targaryen a coward - yet in that moment he couldn't take the risk of Valyria growing to resent him for real. Breaking this alliance with Dorne would send them both into exile and he feared he would lose her either way then.
Daemon rarely relied on hope - only fools did - but all he could wish for now was that Qoren Martell would treat her well. And if he ever heard anything to suggest otherwise - well, then the Prince of Dorne would find himself in Caraxes stomach.
Leaning down, Daemon pressed a gentle kiss against her forehead and whispered, "Goodbye, my menace."
.•° ✿ °•.
117 AC, Sunspear
Unlike the first time Valyria set foot in Dorne, her arrival was met with a grander welcome. Her personal preference would have been to travel on dragonback but it was better for her to arrive alongside her daughters and the rest of her entourage.
Carriage rides were uncomfortable enough under normal circumstances. Add an unbearable heat to that and Valyria couldn't help but wonder if walking would have been more comfortable. The air inside the carriage was stuffy and hot. Not even the lighter fabrics she had changed into on the ship could prevent her from being affected by the heat.
"Mūna," Elara complained for the tenth time. "It's too warm here." Her forehead was glazed over with sweat, making her golden locks damp by the hairline.
"We will arrive at any moment now," Valyria promised, using a cloth to damp away the sweat from her forehead. Across from them, Cyrenna sat leaning against Rhaenys who had agreed to come with them.
"Is this where you were born, Serra?" Cyrenna asked curiously. Much like her twin - and everyone else for that matter - she was struggling with the heat, only Cyrenna would never bother anyone with her complaints.
"No, not quite," Serra chuckled, proudly supporting a beautiful yellow dress of dornish design. "I was born in my father's castle, Blackmont, in the western Red Mountains. But I am from Dorne."
The carriage slowed down, which hopefully meant that they were close. Cecily who sat beside the Valyria immediately began adjusting the princess's dress and hair to make her presentable for her future husband.
"Are you nervous?" Cecily wondered.
"No," Valyria responded. "I have already done all of this once, as you might recall."
When the carriage stopped completely, Valyria looked between her daughters, "Listen to Cecily and Serra now. And stay with them until I call for you." The twins nodded their heads in understanding. Despite their mischievous sides, the two always listened when it truly mattered.
Standing up, Valyria straightened her shoulders and prepared to meet the dornish court as their future Princess. "Remember that you are a dragon," Rhaenys told her.
"I always remember that," Valyria assured her. When the carriage door opened, she took the hand that was offered to her and allowed it to assist her in climbing down the steps. Momentarily blinded by the strong dornish sun, she could not see her betrothed until both her feet were on the ground.
"Princess Valyria of House Targaryen, the future Princess of Dorne!"
The greeting she received was underwhelming. In Dorne, being a Targaryen meant you were the enemy and whilst some applauded out of pure courtesy, the contempt on their faces did nothing to make her feel welcomed. All Valyria could do was her duty as Prince Qoren's wife; she'd do everything she could to serve Dorne and if that wasn't enough then it was their problem and not hers.
Ignoring everyone else for now, Valyria focused on her future husband once more. Once she stood in front of him, she lowered herself down into a smooth curtsy, "Prince Qoren, it's a pleasure to see you once more."
"I assure you, the pleasure is all mine, Princess Valyria," Qoren stepped forward, took her hand and pressed a kiss against her knuckles, lingering for a second longer than what would be deemed appropriate in court. "You are as beautiful as I remembered."
Then she noticed how his eyes lingered on something behind her, "And I see you have not come alone this time."
Turning around, Valyria found him watching Cyrenna and Elara who had stepped out of the carriage. With a discreet hand motion, she gestured for them to come forward and they did exactly that with all the grace two seven year olds could manage. Their golden hair was pulled into similar braids and while Cyrenna wore a light green dress, Elara wore a light blue one.
"May I introduce my daughters from my marriage to Lord Lucian of House Lannister," Valyria said, placing a hand on each of their shoulders in reassurance. "Lady Cyrenna and Lady Elara."
"Prince Qoren," the twins said, giving the prince a quick curtsy. Valyria waited for his reaction patiently and when a smile broke out on his face, she let out an internal sigh of relief.
"Welcome to Sunspear, my ladies," Qoren said. "I have very high hopes you will be very happy here."
.•° ✿ °•.
When Valyria married Lucian Lannister, she had still been a child of three-and-ten. By then, she had received her moonblood on a monthly basis for almost two years. She could remember people telling her how she was slowly becoming a woman; that while the childish roundness of her cheeks had yet to disappear she looked more like a woman for every day.
But despite everyone else's words, Valyria didn't feel like a woman. Just a frightened and lonely girl.
Not even after the countless hours spent getting ready for the ceremony could change that fact that Valyria was nowhere ready for what was about to come. Even years later, she could remember looking into the mirror when her dress was finally on and her hair had been styled.
No matter how hard the seamstresses worked for days to prepare a dress that would transform her into a desirable woman - all Valyria could see was a terrified girl. Her wedding dress had been white - a sign of her purity - with golden designs of lions. The neckline was lower than any dress she had worn before that day; still rather flat-chested due to her young age, the dress had clearly been designed to push up what they had to work with.
All through the day, Valyria recalled feeling like she couldn't breathe properly. One reason was probably that her corset was tightened to the point where it hurt to move or breathe. Ceira Lannister - her lovely good-mother - claimed it was because her hips had yet to grow and she would look more desirable for her husband if she didn't look like a stick.
Now - around eight years later - Valyria felt many things looking through the mirror yet none of them was fear.
Instead of white silks to symbolise her innocence, Valyria was dressed in red. The summer silk was a different shade than the red used on the three-headed dragon, a bit lighter, appearing like a dark shade of orange under some lights. The neckline plunged deep down to her mid-ribs, exposing much more skin than she was used to. Yet despite that, she felt much more comfortable than she had during her first wedding.
It had no sleeves and on her arms where she now wore golden bracelets. Her silver locks had been braided into bun at the nape of her neck and atop her head rested a golden diadem. However, not even the dornish dress and jewellery belonging to House Martell could hide the fact that there was no rhoynish blood running through her veins.
"You think it's too much, don't you?" Valyria asked, seeing Rhaenys look through the reflection. "Or rather too little."
"I think you look absolutely beautiful," Rhaenys assured her, stepping closer. "And while I think your father's and Viserys's hearts would have stopped had they seen you wearing such a – dornish dress - your husband is a very lucky man."
"I wouldn't be surprised if he had a thing or two to say about the," Serra motioned towards Valyria's upper body, "design choices."
"Lovely," Valyria smiled sarcastically. She looked back into the mirror, hand unintentionally reaching up to her neck, only for her fingers to graze the exposed skin of her collarbone.
That made her feel bare.
Not the revealing dress but how naked her neck and collarbones felt without the usual weight of her Valyrian steel necklace.
Take me to Dragonstone and make me your wife...
After the wedding, when Valyria got back to her chambers, Valyria couldn't believe herself. For a moment there she had completely allowed her own desires to cloud her better judgement. She forgot all her responsibilities and in a world and entertained the idea that she could be with Daemon.
In afterthought, it was stupid to even entertain the idea. Breaking the alliance with Dorne could have terrible consequences for all the Seven Kingdoms. She couldn't just think about herself.
Despite that, she couldn't deny the heartache she felt when Daemon didn't take her up on her offer. Unlike her, he did not think about the consequences of her actions. He took what he wanted but allowed her to leave.
"Cecily, could you fetch my necklace?" Valyria asked, grinding her teeth together, even annoyed by her own pathetic behaviour. Reasoning with herself, the necklace would be the only thing symbolising her heritage.
She didn't even have to specify what necklace she was speaking of, Cecily picked up the right one and hung it around her neck. Immediately she felt more comfortable. More confident. Even more like a dragon.
"Did you ever tell us how you got that necklace?" Serra asked curiously, squinting her eyes like she was trying to remember.
"Family heirloom. I got it when I came back to the Capital," Valyria explained simply and to save her from further questioning, Cyrenna and Elara entered. Valyria rarely dressed her daughters in the same colours - the two were already identical twins - but for the day, they both wore purple to match their eyes.
"You look so beautiful, mūna," Cyrenna complimented her.
"Thank you, sweetling," Valyria smiled. "You two look lovely as well. My own little winged lionesses."
"After the wedding, could Canni and Vermithor come to Sunspear?" Elara asked hopefully. "If we behave?"
"I will have to speak with Prince Qoren about it," Valyria promised. "I want Ānogara here as well, but it might take the dornish some time to get used to our dragons. Here, they fear the destruction our dragons might bring."
"Canni wouldn't hurt anyone," Elara said surely, purple eyes wide and innocent.
Valyria shared a quick look with Rhaenys, neither knowing how to explain to Elara that while the wild dragon behaved like a kitten with her, he was called the Cannibal for a reason.
"You don't have to convince me. Just Prince Qoren," Valyria told her daughter. "And make sure to make it look like you are going to cry if he says no, that usually worked for me when I was your age."
"But that will have to wait," Rhaenys said pointedly. "I believe it's time for us to leave now."
Valyria bent down to give her daughters a hug and receive a few last good lucks from her ladies-in-waiting before they escorted out, leaving the bride and Rhaenys. She kissed both of Valyria's cheeks, "Never forget-"
"I am a Princess of House Targaryen," Valyria finished taking both her cousin's hands. "Thank you for being here."
"I wouldn't miss it for the world. Uncle Daeron would have been so very proud of you, I hope you know that," Rhaenys told her sincerely. The older princess found it unfair that she got to spend so much longer time with her uncle than Valyria was allowed with her father. "He always believed in good relations with the dornish - you have accomplished his dream of uniting the Seven Kingdoms."
"It's just a marriage," Valyria said modestly. "Prince Qoren has not exactly bent the knee."
"All will happen in due time," Rhaenys told her. "You will be his wife and considering the influence you have managed to gather in Viserys's court without using your – advantages of being a beautiful woman – you will have Dorne wrapped around your finger in no time. Especially when you are the mother to the future ruling Prince or Princess of Dorne."
"I will first have to survive my wedding night without getting poisoned by snakes," Valyria pointed out.
.•° ✿ °•.
"I am his, and he is mine. From this day until the end of my days," Valyria said, looking into her husband's onyx eyes. The intensity of his gaze might have caused her to look away had she not been too stubborn and proud to ever allow anyone to think they could intimidate her.
That being said, Valyria was still human – a woman – and was not completely immune. When she first saw him as she walked down the aisle, she couldn't deny that her future husband was handsome. With wavy, shoulder-length hair that under the strong sun looked more dark brown than black, he was a darkly handsome and still young man. He had grown a short stubble of beard that suited him well.
While he wasn't especially burly, Prince Qoren was a tall and slender man that still had a muscular build. Having faced him in a swordfight once taught her that he was built like a warrior and relied both on strength and speed when fighting.
"With this kiss, I pledge my love and take you as my lady wife," Prince Qoren announced loudly for all to hear, even though his focus was solely on her.
Placing a hand on her cheek, Qoren closed the gap between them, bringing her into a quick kiss. It was much more gentle than the one she shared with Daemon and Valyria cursed herself for how her thoughts drifted to him. When Qoren pulled away, smiling kindly at her, Valyria couldn't help but do the same, forcing all thoughts of Daemon out of her head.
The ceremony had taken place inside the Great Hall but the feast was held outside in the gardens. By the time it started, the sun was slowly setting, making it more bearable to be outside. Sunspear's garden was very different from the ones in the Red Keep, or any other castle north of the Red Mountains.
Tables were filled with several dozens of dishes Valyria had never seen before. She tried a few, enjoying the foreign spices that brought more flavour to the dried meats and flatbreads. Although, she stayed clear of the rattlesnake in spicy sauce.
Elara and Cyrenna, who had been a bit sceptical to begin with, greatly enjoyed the lemon flavoured duck and found a new favourite in blood oranges. Through the night, she got little opportunity to speak with her husband since he was busy receiving the good wishes of his - their - subjects.
The feast continued long after the sun disappeared completely. Torches were lit, illuminating the gardens where the dornish nobles danced, ate and sang. It reminded Valyria of the atmosphere at Rhaenyra's wedding - but with less blood.
Rhaenys eventually offered to take the twins to bed, claiming that she wished to retire as well anyways. After saying goodnight to their mother, the girls disappeared, exhausted after a long and eventful day.
"Princess," Lewyn Sand approached Valyria where she stood, speaking with Serra's mother, Lady Blackmont. Out of all the dornish nobles, they were the only ones that welcomed Valyria with open arms. "Lady Blackmont," he acknowledged the older lady. "My brother sent me to fetch you."
With a knowing expression, Lady Blackmont excused herself. When Lewyn began escorting her in opposite direction of where Qoren was, she asked, "I might not know your brother as well as you do, but I could have sworn I saw him over by the fountain."
"Oh, he is, but he asked me to get you away from the feast before anyone got the idea of asking for a bedding ceremony," Lewyn explained, walking over to where Serra and Cecily were waiting for them. "I am to escort you to his chambers where he shall join you shortly."
The walk to Prince Qoren's apartments was fairly short and made in silence. Her ladies remained a few paces behind them the entire walk. "We are here," Lewyn announced, stopping in front of double doors ornate with gold. He opened one of the doors for her, "My brother will be with you soon."
"Thank you," Valyria said politely.
"I know my opinion might not mean much to you," Lewyn said, "but I am glad you married my brother. You will be good for him."
"Since you are the only family Qoren has, it does mean a lot," Valyria said truthfully. "Now, will you promise me to make sure Serra and Cecily have some fun now when they no longer feel the need to attend to me."
"As my princess commands," Lewyn bowed dramatically. He linked his arms with the ladies, "Do not fret, they are in good hands. Now have fun."
"And remember what I told you," Serra winked.
"I desperately try to forget, actually," Valyria retorted before she closed the doors as the trio walked away. Serra had happily shared her knowledge of the dornish culture with Valyria, deciding that she needed some advice after being celibate for half a decade.
Valyria did not undress, instead she explored the chambers belonging to her husband. Everything in Dorne was so very different from what she was used to. On the walls hung spears and shields accompanied by tapestries from the Free Cities. The drapes covering the windows were bright orange and yellow, a contrast to the black ones she had back home.
Only a few minutes later did the doors open and her husband entered, "I see you have made yourself comfortable," he said sarcastically, seeing her standing in the middle of the room.
"If you are referring to how I am still dressed, I am afraid I have no idea how to take this off myself," Valyria told him. "While I of course am grateful the bedding ceremony did not take place tonight, I can't help but wonder why you would want to break tradition."
With his hands behind his back, Qoren stepped further into the room, "I may not know my wife very well, but the little I have learned of you made me fear that you'd murder half of the men in my court if they tried to undress you. After hearing the news of what happened during Princess Rhaenyra's wedding, I thought it best to make sure ours had less blood."
"That is very thoughtful of you," Valyria told him dryly. "Is it fear that I would murder you too that made you think it was better to avoid me for days? You were more inclined to spend time together before we were betrothed." That statement prompted her to ask another question, "Why is it that you asked for my hand?"
Ignoring her question, Qoren walked over to the table and poured himself some wine. He looked over at her, asking her if she wanted some and Valyria gave him a small nod in response. After handing her a goblet, he took a swing from his own, "Do you want the truth?"
"I would not have asked if I didn't," Valyria told him.
"I needed to marry to continue the Martell name," Qoren shrugged. "I have met many beautiful ladies over the years, but they all paled after meeting you." Noticing her eye roll, he continued, "All women are special in their own way, but your beauty captivated me like no one had before."
"And here I thought it was my sharp wit and wonderful personality," Valyria said dryly, taking sip of the Dornish red; she couldn't claim to be an avid wine drinker but Serra had been correct when claiming that it would be sourer than the wine they usually served at home.
"Of course your charm might have influenced my decision a bit," Qoren told her. "Although, I am well aware that the last time you visited, you wanted something from me; while your beauty is true, I could not know if you were simply putting on a mask to entice me into leaving the Stepstones."
"Yet you took the risk of me being a - not so old - hag?"
"What is life without taking a risk or two?" Qoren winked leaning against the table. "Don't you agree?"
"It depends on the risk," Valyria shrugged, crossing her arms. "Have I been worth the risk this far?"
His eyes trailed down her body appreciatively, "I would say that. Despite many's clear hatred for your family, I don't believe there was a single man in attendance today that wasn't at least a little jealous of me today."
Snorting in a very unladylike manner, Valyria said, "I'm glad to have pleased you this far, husband."
"You were much more convincing in the sight of all our guests," Qoren said, amusement clear in his voice.
"Aye, that might be because I actually tried to sound convincing," Valyria retorted.
"That is a strange word, 'aye'," Qoren said. "You are the only one that I've ever heard saying it."
"Have you ever met a northerner?" Valyria asked him. "When I returned from Winterfell, many commented on my accent having changed a little bit. Most of it faded away with time, but some stuck around."
"Your mother, she was a Stark, am I correct?" Qoren wondered.
"Aye," Valyria said. Then she asked, "Do you truly want to spend our wedding night talking about my family tree?"
"No, not really," Qoren confessed. "I suppose this is an advantage of a wife that has been married before," he teased. "A maiden would have been more nervous and less aggressive."
"I am not aggressive," Valyria said, narrowing her eyes at him.
"Of course not," Qoren said, not bothering to hide his smirk. "I didn't expect anything less from a dragon."
Smiling sarcastically, Valyria reached up behind her head and started removing the pins that kept her hair together. "Is there anything I need to know now that we are married," she asked, focusing on her own reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall instead of him.
"What do you mean?" Qoren asked.
"Any paramours or bastards that I should be aware of?" Valyria clarified.
"No bastards to my knowledge and no paramours," Qoren informed her.
"I am not naive enough to think that you won't visit any brothels or take any mistresses during our marriage, but unless you wish for me to make your life a misery I suggest you do it with discretion. I do not want to be humiliated or pitied," Valyria told him, not even sparing a glance in his direction. "Oh, and after your – escapades – you will take a bath before daring to climb into my bed."
"Is it because I am dornish you think so lowly of me?" Qoren wondered.
"It's because you are a man," Valyria corrected him and once her hair was loose, she bent forward and straightened up quickly, running her hands through the silver locks to free them. When she looked through the mirror again, it was to find her husband standing behind her.
"Do I need to set up similar rules for you?" he teased, standing so close behind her that she only needed to step back an inch for them to be touching. "Are there any lovers I need to worry about?"
"No," Valyria answered, "none to worry about."
"I don't believe that," Qoren said, carefully moving all of her hair over one shoulder. "You have been a widow for over half a decade now. Surely many men - some of them handsome - must have dreamed of spending a night with you."
"Aye, but I - unlike some other people - was born with something called restraint," Valyria retorted. "I have two daughters and a family to think about. Taking a lover would not only bring shame over me, but them as well. I will be loyal to you - even if you don't return the favour."
"Who said I won't?" Qoren asked, his fingers running up the exposed skin of her back, keeping eye contact with her through the mirror as he did. Then they brushed against the back of her neck, reaching for the clasps on her necklace. Valyria couldn't help but be reminded of Daemon doing a similar thing when he first gave the necklace to her.
Before she knew it, the necklace was off, "Valyrian steel?" Qoren wondered.
"Aye," Valyria murmured, reaching up to touch her collarbone. With the necklace off, turning around to face him properly felt easier. He truly looked nothing like Daemon and in the moment, Valyria was happy about it. Qoren was handsome in a way that never could remind her of him, making it difficult to compare the two.
Seeing the way his gaze flickered down to her lips, Valyria took the initiative to kiss him. Unlike the one they shared during the ceremony, Qoren immediately deepened this kiss, his arms circling her waist to pull her flush against him.
He tasted like the wine he had been drinking – Dornish red and not Arbour gold.
His hair was thick and wavy when she ran her fingers through it - not straight.
The union between the Sun Prince and the Dragon Princess would mark the beginning of the unification of Westeros. It would change the faith of the Seven Kingdoms and be crucial years later in preventing the death of dragons.