THE LONG AWAITED PRINCE
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128 AC, Winterfell
After three pregnancies, Valyria liked to think she knew how her own body reacted while carrying a child. The fatigue, tender breasts and near constant discomfort for some reason did not come as a shock to her. What she hadn't expected was her gradually rising body temperature that she hadn't experienced with any of her previous children.
For while the discomfort at times had included her feeling warmer than usual at times, none of it could compare to how she felt at the verge of bursting into flames at any second by the time she reached the fourth moon of her pregnancy.
"You should wear a warmer cloak-"
Valyria interrupted her husband mid-sentence, "I already feel as if I'm in Dorne rather than the North. Unless you wish for me to be set ablaze, I won't be wearing any cloak." Already dressed in a dress of grey silk, the hemlines lined with white fur and the bodice embroidered with red in a pattern similar to the leaves on the Weirwood tree, Daemon had his reasons for being concerned about her being cold outside in the harsh northern winds.
Daemon sighed, gritting his teeth to not let his infamous temper get the best of him. "That might change once we go outside."
"If I freeze, I will keep it to myself so you don't have to suffer," Valyria retorted, looking at herself through the mirror. By now, her belly had visibly grown showing everyone that she was with child. Placing a hand against her growing stomach, she could have sworn the heat radiated from inside her. "Now I believe it's time for us to leave for the ceremony in the Godswood."
"Lyria-"
"Daemon, this babe makes me feel like I am about to burst into flames!" Valyria snapped, her patience completely disappearing. She blamed Daemon for putting a baby inside her that inherited his temper – if that was a thing. "Lying down naked in the snow does not seem like such a terrible idea at the moment so I repeat myself once again: I. Won't. Wear. A. Warmer. Cloak."
Gritting his teeth, Daemon realised the battle was lost. If she started to freeze, he'd just give his own cloak to her. "Let's visit the bride then," he said, linking his arm with hers. Ever since she told him she was with child, he'd become even more protective of her. It's like he was frightened she'd suddenly collapse if he wasn't there to catch her.
Serra and Cecily, who'd travelled all the way from Highgarden to the North just for the wedding, were inside Elara's temporary chambers – after today she'd be granted the bedchambers belonging to the Lady of Winterfell – helping the bride get ready alongside Cyrenna.
"I shall make sure the children are ready," Daemon said when they reached the room, kissing Valyria's cheek before disappearing down the corridor. Upon entering, Valyria was struck by the sight of her little girl in a wedding dress.
It was unlike the dresses any of them were used to wearing – but probably something Elara had to get used to now when she would live in the North – and beautiful in its own way. Clad in white silks – with an underskirt of wool – that were fitted at the top and flared out at the bottom, Elara looked every bit like a bride any man would die for.
The sleeves of her wedding dress were full and the neckline quite modest for Dorne but probably a little deeper than the high collars in the North. Her golden hair fell down to her waist in soft waves except for the locks that were braided into a crown around her head. In honour of her Lannister heritage golden lion furs covered her shoulders and then there was of course her maiden cloak.
More importantly, her relation to House Targaryen was shown by the red roses that had been put into the plaited crown around her head. Since northerners had a tendency to look down on too much gold and jewellery the flowers were a beautiful yet simple form of styling her hair compared to a ruby tiara.
"My little girl," Valyria smiled, tears stinging her eyes at the sight of her eldest daughter. "How did you grow up so fast? I still recall the first time we entered these walls together after Lucian died. And now you are to become the Lady of Winterfell."
"I am still your little girl," Elara said, wrapping her mother into a hug while Cyrenna joined as well, wearing a pale purple dress to match her own eyes.
"Of course, you will always be my little girl. Both of you," Valyria looked between the twins. Then she cast a glance over at her friends who both looked emotional by the scene. "I have permission to cry because my emotions are not stable enough at the moment, you two have to be the strong ones."
"Right," Cecily shook herself out of it, straightening up, "I will save my tears for the ceremony when your attention is elsewhere. Speaking of that, we should probably leave now." Cecily and Serra gave a few final words of encouragement before departing, leaving Valyria with her oldest children.
"I have something for you," Valyria said, holding up a necklace that had been wrapped around her fingers. It was a silver chain with a pedant formed into a beautiful direwolf's head and the eyes were two small rubies. Not exactly the most expensive or eye-catching piece of jewellery but the details on the direwolf showed that a lot of work had been put into it.
"It belonged to my mother, your namesake," Valyria said, clasping the necklace around her daughter's neck, "and now it belongs to you: The Lady of Winterfell."
"Thank you, mūna," Elara said, growing emotional herself.
Valyria wiped away her tears before they could fall, "Don't cry. Your little sibling is making it very hard for me to not cry when other people cry."
"Everything is going to change now," Elara said, looking between her mother and twin sister. "I'm going to miss you both so much." The twins had rarely ever been separated since they were born so this would most definitely be hard for both of them. "I know I have to marry Cregan – I won't find a better man – but it's so far away. I will never see you-"
"You will," Cyrenna told her older sister. "You won't get rid of us."
"Cyrenna is right," Valyria nodded. "We are just a dragon's ride away." Noticing that her daughter seemed a bit more at ease, she asked, "Do you have any questions before the ceremony? It's normal for brides to feel nervous before the wedding."
"I'm — a little nervous," Elara nodded. "The bedding-"
"There won't be a bedding ceremony," Valyria assured her daughter. She went through one her first wedding and it was traumatising. "I spoke with Cregan and we agreed that the two of you quietly will exit the feast when time is near."
"Will it hurt?" Elara asked, a little worried. Cyrenna also listened attentively, imagining this would be her one day.
Valyria sighed, "At first, it will hurt a bit. But Cregan is a good man and if he has any intention of staying alive, he'll do his best to make sure the pain is mild and temporary." She then added, "Being nervous for the bedding is normal but over time it will become far more – pleasurable."
"Mūna," the twins said with disgusted faces, both blushing.
"You asked," Valyria defended herself just as somebody knocked on the door. In came Daemon, hands clasped behind his back.
"Everyone else has left for the Godswood," he announced, having left his daughters and Valyria's youngest children with Serra and Cecily. "Unless you've decided the Stark boy is beneath you and wish to call off the wedding – something I support you for, Elara – it's time."
"Daemon," Valyria scolded her husband who rolled his eyes. She didn't know if his dislike for Cregan had genuine reasons or if they simply could be explained by him not thinking anyone was good enough for Elara. The latter – probably.
"Thank you, Daemon, but there will be a wedding," Elara cracked a smile despite her nerves.
"Worth a try," Daemon shrugged, smirking teasingly. "At least the Stark name will be minimally better than Lannister."
"We will leave you two then," Valyria kissed her daughter's cheek. "Don't worry too much, love. You are going to do great." Then she linked her arm with Cyrenna and the two made their way towards the Godswood.
Meanwhile, Daemon stayed behind with Elara since he'd be walking her down the aisle. "You won't let me trip or something, right?" she asked him nervously.
"Of course not," Daemon said, linking his arm with his step-daughter's.
Elara's gaze dropped to his arm and she noticed the red and black leather-braided bracelet around his wrist. "You still wear it," she smiled in memory of the gift she and Cyrenna gave him when he first left King's Landing after his first exile.
"It's difficult to take off," Daemon shrugged.
"I am happy you married my mother," Elara told him as the two exited the castle. "When you don't aggravate her, you make her really happy."
In the Godswood Valyria took her place at the bride's side. There was something so very magical about northern ceremonies where they still believed in the Old Gods of the Forest. The entire place had been lit up with lanterns creating such a serene feeling; nothing like a sept.
Cregan stood at the front, in front of the Weirwood tree, alongside his uncle Ethan Glover who would officiate the ceremony. Traditionally, the groom's father officiated the wedding but since that wasn't an option the duty fell onto another close male relative and that happened to be his mother's brother, the Lord of Deepwood Motte. She sent the young man a reassuring smile, praying to the Old Gods that he'd treat her daughter right. Or he might not live to regret it no matter the blood they shared.
Then everyone's attention turned to the entrance of the beautiful young bride. Valyria smiled reassuringly when her daughter passed her. Elara kept her head high and an easy smile on her face as she neared her future husband, not allowing any of the guests to see that she was indeed nervous.
"Who comes before the Old Gods this night?" Lord Glover asked loudly.
"Elara, of the Houses Targaryen and Lannister, comes here to be wed. A woman grown, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods," Daemon said, narrowing his eyes at the young man before him. "Who comes to claim her?"
Cregan stepped forward, "Cregan of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North." Much to his credit, he did not allow Daemon's intimidating glare to get to him. He stood his ground. "Who gives her?"
"Daemon, of the House Targaryen, who is her step-father," Daemon responded.
"Lady Elara, do you take this man?" Lord Glover asked her.
"I take this man," Elara said, her voice soft yet loud and clear for all to hear. Next Cregan took off her maiden cloak and handed it to Daemon who whispered a few less than pleasant words to the groom before stepping back, allowing Cregan to wrap Elara in the Stark cloak, once again solidifying the alliance between Ice and Fire.
.•° ✿ °•.
128 AC, Sunspear
Valyria woke up in the middle of the night, feeling cramps in her belly that grew more intense and subdued like a tidal wave. Daemon slept peacefully beside her on his stomach beside her. While Valyria always slept better in her husband's arms, she'd been so warm during these last moons of pregnancy that she couldn't bear his body heat as well. Not wishing to bother Daemon, she tried to keep her breathing calm as she soldiered through half the night.
It was when her water broke that she realised she had to wake Daemon. Gently, she nudged his shoulder and Daemon practically flew up already wide awake, "Is something wrong?"
"Aye, I think the babe is coming," Valyria told him calmly. "So if you could fetch Dora and a miiiiiiiid," another cramp hit her, "wife, that would be perfect."
Within seconds, Daemon was barking orders at the guards standing outside their chambers. A few hours later, Valyria remained in the same place, her cries of pain echoing across Sunspear. Outside her chambers, Daemon paced back and forth. The Rogue Prince rarely showed any emotion that could be associated with weakness yet at the moment it was clear that he flinched every time he heard a new cry from his wife.
Half a day passed with Daemon growing more and more agitated to the point where no one dared to say anything in his presence, fearing that he'd unsheath Dark Sister and cut their heads off. When an especially loud cry cut through the air, he had enough and burst into the chambers, "What the fuck is wrong?"
On the bed, he found his wife drenched in sweat looking weaker than he'd ever seen him. Valyria never looked anything but composed – with the exception of when she was writhing beneath him – and he hated seeing her like this.
"The babe is not facing right," Dora explained, sending him a dirty look for bursting into the birthing chamber like that. "And you stressing her with your yelling is no help."
Daemon glared menacingly at the healer. He'd probably be able to kill the elderly woman easily and he might have done it had Valyria not let out a sob that made his heart clench in his chest. Ignoring everyone else's protests, he pushed past the midwives and the healer to get to his wife. His menace.
Images of Laena in a similar position flashed through his mind, filling him with a sense of dread. The entire pregnancy, he'd been dreading this day. The only thing keeping him from losing his mind during those moons was how calm and confident Valyria appeared, reassuring him that her last births went by without much of a hitch.
"Lyria," Daemon murmured, sitting down at the edge of the bed. However, her eyes remained closed and he guessed she'd not even heard his loud entrance in her near lucid state. Seeing his little wife like this hurt more than any cut by a sword or burn wound ever could.
Gently, he cupped her cheeks and Valyria's eyes opened at once, "Daemon," she gasped in shock, blinking repeatedly like she wanted to know if he was an illusion. His fingers tenderly traced Valyria's cheekbones, snapping her out of her daze. "What are you doing here?" she asked, trying to push herself into a seated position. "You don't have to be in here. You don't have to see me like this-" another wave of pain hit her, making Valyria cry out again, one of her hands coming up to clutch his forearm tightly. "Sīr nākostōbā."
"Riñītsos, you are many things," Daemon soothed. "Weak is not one of them."
"I am not your 'little girl', arse," Valyria snapped at what she considered a degrading nickname.
"Agree to disagree," Daemon smirked, despite the situation. If she was strong enough to argue with him, then there was still hope. Leaning down he kissed her quickly, not giving a damn about the women surrounding them. "Now we will get through this – together."
For the remainder of her labours, Daemon refused to leave her side. He continued whispering words of encouragement to her, allowing Valyria to clutch his hand to the point where he feared it would break. When the cry of a babe finally rang through the room, Daemon felt like he could breathe again.
"A boy, princess, very good job. Congratulations," Dora praised her, completely ignoring Daemon's presence.
A breathtakingly beautiful smile graced Valyria's lips, one that made it impossible for Daemon not to smile as well. Leaning down, he brought her into a deep kiss, attempting to express all the emotions he could not express in words. That was until Dora backhanded the back of his head harshly, "None of that now. Leave the poor girl alone," the older woman scolded him.
Daemon gritted his teeth together, seconds away from killing the healer a second time when Valyria called his name, "Daemon," she said softly as the child was handed to her. The sight of his lovely wife holding their newborn son was enough to make all that anger disappear.
A son. He had a son.
"Jaeron," Valyria said, looking at Daemon to see if he agreed. "For my father and our grandfather."
"I like it," Daemon nodded. "Our Jae." He gave her another kiss and found himself receiving another hit from the Essosi woman.
"None of that until she is healed," Dora looked between the two of them like she was scolding a pair of children. "Two moons – at least."
.•° ✿ °•.
The moons following the birth of Jaeron Targaryen were hectic for Valyria. Balancing the birth of a new babe with taking care of her other children at the same time as she returned to her duties as ruling Princess of Dorne proved to take a lot of time. Sadly, all her additional duties and visits to other dornish lords proved to be quite straining on her marriage.
After the short bedrest following the birth, Valyria rarely ever saw her husband other than during the dinners she managed to attend. Valyria's attendance had been expected at two weddings – one at Starfall and one at Blackmont within the first two moons, meaning that herself and Cassian left Sunspear while the others stayed behind. Then Viserys' health had taken another hit, forcing her to return to King's Landing for a fortnight – once again leaving her husband and children behind.
The little spare time she had, she tried to spend with her children since they needed her the most. Daemon never said anything. He didn't voice his displeasure and somehow that was worse than him expressing the frustrations building up inside him. Her husband was hot-tempered enough as it was.
Instead of challenging his anger into murder or creating havoc, Daemon proved himself to be quite a wonderful father. Not that she expected him to be terrible, she simply didn't expect him to be so doting. Most men didn't spare their children much attention when they were young – others never did – yet Daemon divided his time between riding Caraxes, training and playing with all of their children.
Most nights when she returned to their shared chambers, Daemon was already fast asleep on his side of the bed. That was enough proof of what state their marriage was in because even as the two moons following the birth passed, they had done nothing other than sleep on the bed.
"Look who's decided to join me," Daemon drawled from his place over by the fireplace. He sat slumped in his chair, legs stretched out in front of him, a goblet of wine dangling in his hand. "My darling wife."
Valyria sighed, "Viserys-"
"Needed your help. I know," Daemon said, taking a final gulp of his wine, emptying the goblet. "My brother always does. Give him my regards next time you hear from him." He stood up, placing the goblet on the nearest table. "I bid you goodnight then. I assume you will be gone when I wake up. Mayhaps I will see you in another fortnight."
"Daemon," Valyria said, running a hand through her hair, dragging even more strands out of the loose braid. "I apologise if it's been a lot lately. It's only temporary-"
"It's not temporary if it happens all the time," Daemon scoffed. "Lately, I see more of Lewyn than I do my own wife!"
"I am sorry-"
"What am I supposed to do here all day?" Daemon asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "Sit around all day and wait for you while you're Princessing?"
"Princessing?" Valyria repeated, amusement lacing her words despite the seriousness of the conversation.
"Yes, Princessing," Daemon said, stepping closer. "From dusk until dawn you are somewhere else, spending time with everyone but me!"
"I am the ruling Princess of Dorne – my son's regent," Valyria reminded him, not cowering when he tried to use his taller stance to intimidate her. She understood where his frustrations came from, but at the same time he knew what he married into. "I have duties-"
"No, what you have is a purpose here. I don't," Daemon argued, letting out a sarcastic laugh. "In King's Landing I was at least given the City Watch or something to do but here I am nothing but your bed-warmer and a glorified nursemaid for our children."
Valyria pursed her lips to hide the involuntary smile forming on her face. When noticing her poorly concealed amusement, Daemon's irritation grew, "Does this amuse you, ābrazȳrys?"
"No, it's simply that your description is akin to how the purpose of many noble ladies is characterised," Valyria clarified. Unfortunately, explaining her amusement in his misery did not serve to make Daemon feel better.
"Great," Daemon sneered. "I'm glad my misery amuses you." Pushing past her, he headed for the door.
"Jorrāeliarzy," Valyria said, grabbing ahold of his arm to prevent him from leaving. An angry Daemon strolling around Sunspear did not bode well for anyone. And she could admit that she hadn't really handled his clear frustration about the current situation in the best way so far.
"I am leaving-"
"No, you are not," Valyria refused to let him go even when he tried to shrug her off. "All your life, you've handled your anger by fucking whores or murderering anyone that dares to slight you. Now you will try my way of talking about what's bothering you."
"I did. You laughed," Daemon said between gritted teeth. "And then you insulted me by assuming that my intentions when wanting to leave is finding the first woman to fuck. Because you always assume the worst of me."
Instead of arguing back at once, Valyria silently led Daemon back over to the armchair by the fire. Surprisingly, he did not put up a fight nor protest. She then pushed him to sit down, "I apologise for not taking it seriously and for insinuating that you had less than honourable intentions by wanting to leave after I compared your purpose in life to that of a woman."
"Then all is well," Daemon said dryly, not even the slightest impressed by her apology. He tried to stand up but she gently pushed him down again by the shoulders. Then she surprised Daemon by gracefully lowering herself down to her knees. Leaning forward, she rested her arms against his upper-legs.
Moments earlier she'd been the one looking down at him, now the roles were reversed. Valyria rarely allowed her husband to enjoy the dominant stand without putting up a fight – something she knew he liked – but it was clear for her that Daemon was insecure even though he'd never admit it. Therefore, she decided to throw him a bone.
Unlike nearly every other man in the realm, Daemon had less power than her. He lived in his wife's castle where he had little purpose except for being her husband. Allowing him to take charge every now and then probably wasn't the worst thing in the world.
"I understand it must be difficult for you in Dorne," Valyria said sympathetically. "During my first years here, I felt like an outsider too and I was the Prince of Dorne's wife. Truth be told, I am still somewhat of an outsider. Had it been within my power, I would not hesitate to give you a role here in court. But I fear many would look unfavourably on House Targaryen gaining more footing in Dorne, and I can't in good conscience risk Cassian's position."
Daemon said nothing. He simply stared down at her intently, prompting her to continue. "You need to know that you serve our family in a way no one else sees. I spend my entire days feeling the pressure of both Dorne and the Iron Throne trying to crush me but when I am with you, I forget all of that. I love the children unconditionally but even with them I have a lot of responsibilities and as a mother I am always worried about something. Despite how you can be the most difficult man in Westeros, being with you is so easy and — I fear I've taken you for granted."
Taking both his hands, she played with his rings as she said, "I've dragged you far away from your home and forced you into a life you never wished for. For that I am truly sorry."
Daemon hummed, freeing one hand so that he could run it through her hair, forcing Valyria to look up at him, "Tell me, dear wife, are you kneeling in front of me because you think I need to feel more like a man."
"Is it working?" Valyria asked slyly. Resting one hand on his thigh, she slowly slid it up until Daemon grabbed her wrist. Holding eye contact, he hoisted her up to stand in front of him.
"Strip," Daemon commanded.
Valyria laughed, "Pardon?"
"If I am to be matronised, I want to get some pleasure out of it," Daemon leaned back in his chair, making himself comfortable. "So take off your clothes, princess."
While she usually wasn't one to do what her husband said, Valyria did like seeing him act more like himself. Therefore, she rolled her eyes but began following his request by taking off her sandals. Feeling the need to torture him a little bit, Valyria took out the pins holding up her hair and begun releasing it from the braid, just to drag out the time.
Then she made a quick work of loosening the laces on her dornish dress. One arm at a time she peeled down the straps holding it up and then peeled it down her body, allowing it to pool down on the floor. Daemon's darkening eyes followed her every moment silently.
Finally, her shift joined the rest of her clothes on the floor, leaving Valyria naked for her husband to observe. She remained confident — her arms hanging by her sides instead of wrapping around herself to cover her stomach — yet she felt unusually insecure under his gaze since it hadn't been too long since she'd given birth.
"Come here," he patted his lap. Valyria cocked an eyebrow as she stepped closer to him, lowering herself down to sit on his lap, one knee on each side of his thighs; the rough material of his breeches brushed against her bare skin, making a shiver run down her spine.
"Do you feel more like a man now, husband?" Valyria taunted, reaching up to release the part of his hair that was pulled back from his face. Daemon hummed, twirling a silver lock around his finger.
His calloused fingers then traced down her spine until they cupped her arse, using his firm hold to force her to stand on her knees so that her breasts were at the same level as his mouth.
Getting his revenge, Daemon fought his urge to take one of her nipples into his mouth. Instead his nose trailed up the valley of her breast, past her throat and she craned her neck to give him better access.
An involuntary scream rang through the chamber when Daemon stood up with ease and carried her across the room, her legs wrapped around his waist. Then he tossed her on the bed rather unceremoniously.
Lying on her back — resting back against her elbows — she was at her appreciatively as her husband undressed in front of her. When his clothes lay discarded on the floor he finally joined her on the bed, his body hovering above her own.
"Now this is where I really like you, my menace," Daemon smirked. "Completely at my mercy."
"Is that what I am?" Valyria asked, reconsidering her decision to feed his enormous ego. Her nails raked down his muscled chest yet before they could reach their destination Daemon's hands encircled her wrists and pushed them against the mattress on each side of her head.
"Mhm," Daemon tried to kiss her cheek but she turned her head in order to capture his lips.
Then she pulled back, forehead leaning against his to prevent him from kissing her again, "I will make sure to find you something else to do here but in the meantime — you are an excellent bedwarmer."