THE GROWING FAMILY
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129 AC, Water Gardens
"If I did not know better, I'd think you are avoiding me."
The sound of her husband's voice broke Valyria out of her thoughts and she turned to find him walking towards her, hand resting against Dark Sister. Having discarded his doublet of summer silks, he now wore only his white undershirt and a pair of black breeches.
"When have you ever known better?" Valyria retorted over her shoulder before turning her back to him again, waiting for Daemon to walk over to her. He sat down right next to her on the bench overlooking one of the massive pools, not leaving any distance between them. She fixed him with a playful glare, "There is plenty of room without you nearly sitting down on my lap."
"You love it," Daemon smirked mischievously, nipping at the exposed skin of her neck. The princess laughed at her husband's antics, pushing his face away from her. "Why are you out here?" he asked instead.
"I simply wanted to take a nightly promenade in the gardens," Valyria told her husband, leaning her head against his shoulder when his arm circled around her waist, dragging her even closer to him. "There are few things that bring me more joy than seeing all the children play out here during the day, yet I cherish these moments of silence and – calmness."
"Do you want me to be quiet?" Daemon wondered, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing patterns against her forearm.
"Are you capable of being quiet?" Valyria teased. "That is when you're not brooding or trying to convey that you are cross with me in hopes that I will shatter under the absence of your voice and apologise."
With his free hand, Daemon squeezed her thigh warningly, "When did the Realm's Jewel go from being an innocent little princess to being such a menace?"
"It depends what you mean with innocent," Valyria smirked. "Mayhaps you were the one to corrupt me. To taint my innocence. I do recall this one time as a child when I called Septa Marlow a 'cunt' and grandfather forbade you from leaving your chambers for a fortnight." She laughed at the memory. "Everyone immediately knew you taught me that word."
"Yes, I do remember that," Daemon said with a little less amusement. "I was eight-and-ten at the time and that was one of the most tortuous fortnights of my life. I could not train, I wasn't allowed to drink, I could not —," he hesitated, "do anything amusing."
"You need not pretend with me," Valyria rolled her eyes, "you could not spend your nights fucking whores in a brothel with your low-life friends. I do sincerely apologise for robbing you of all those exciting nights."
"Uh, you make up for it as good as every night," Daemon assured her, a cocky grin taking over his handsome face. He kissed her shoulder, "And some mornings. And every now and then during the day."
"I have to cherish my husband before he becomes too old to enjoy it," Valyria teased, enjoying the scowl she received in return. "I have heard tales of what happens to men when their age advances. Who knows for how long you will be able to — keep up with me?"
"I assure you that any man half my age wouldn't bring you half as much pleasure," Daemon growled, burying his face in her neck, sucking the exposed skin of her throat.
"You are going to leave a mark," Valyria scolded him. The amount of times she'd have to endure Serra's smug looks because she failed to cover up those marks was not even fun. The dornish dresses didn't exactly help her attempts.
"That is my intention," Daemon mumbled, his voice muffled as his lips continued to trail down to her collarbones.
Valyria placed her hand against her husband's forehead, pushing him away from her long enough to escape his hold and stand up. "Since you seem intent on ruining my calm evening, I guess we just as well could return to our chambers so that I once again can repay you for the fortnight of misery I caused you nearly three decades ago."
"I do like the sound of that," Daemon told her.
Holding out her hand for him, she asked, "Do you need help standing?"
Daemon sent her another scowl as he stood up on his own. "Menace," he called her, reaching out to wrap his arms around her waist in order to pull her closer. Only Valyria was quicker and jumped back, a mischievous smile on her face as she cocked an eyebrow in a daring manner. He tried to catch her again only for Valyria to side-step him again.
Then she made a run for it. Valyria's laughter echoed across the gardens as her husband chased after her. It did not take him a long time to finally catch up with her. His strong arms encircled her waist from behind, successfully stopping her.
"Got you," Daemon whispered in her ear. "I win. Now I must claim my reward." Grabbing her chin between his thumb and index finger, he tilted her head backwards and leaned down to kiss her while his other hand remained resting against her stomach, holding her back flush against his front.
Valyria didn't hesitate to kiss him back with equal enthusiasm, raising a hand to tangle into his silver hair. Growing tired of the awkward angle, Daemon broke the kiss and spun her around. His lips pressed against hers again, deepening the kiss right away. It was a well-practised dance by now yet Valyria did not think she could ever grow tired of Daemon's kisses.
With all the blood leaving Daemon's brain to travel south, he did not notice the way Valyria subtly guided him backwards until it was too late. In one swift movement, Valyria pushed him backwards, sending Daemon tumbling into one of the pools. Water splattered up against her dress and she could not have cared less.
When Daemon emerged from underneath the water, he was seething with rage. Nostrils flared as he breathed slowly, like a dragon ready to set his enemies aflame. But did Valyria regret it? No, she did not. Despite being immature on a regular basis he didn't have a good touch with his inner child – instead he had a great touch with his inner young man – and he needed to let go sometimes.
"It seems I won, my darling husband," Valyria smiled innocently. "It was an even battle and I do admire your efforts."
Without saying a word, Daemon waddled through the water. His amethyst eyes were narrowed as he watched her, challenging her to make a run for it. Resting his hands on the edge of the pool, Daemon hoisted himself up to the dry land again. The white shirt he wore clung to his muscled abdomen as water dripped to the ground. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing the silver strands away from his face.
Then he slowly closed in on her. Valyria bit her lip in an attempt to hide her laughter. Anyone else that faced a seething Daemon Targaryen probably would have said a final prayer or begged for forgiveness.
"I thought you might enjoy a bath since you always complain about the unbearable sun," Valyria told him.
"You will pay for this, menace," Daemon threatened and in one swift movement, he threw her up on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
.•° ✿ °•.
129 AC, King's Landing
The two moons following Jae's birth, Valyria wasn't allowed to participate in any 'straining activities'.
Then there was about a fortnight without any time for such activities.
Four moons after the birth of Jaeron's birth, Valyria found out that she was nearly two moons along with her and Daemon's second child. The disapproving look she received from Dora when the older woman confirmed her suspicions made Valyria feel like an unruly child.
Valyria chose to keep it a secret for Daemon when she found out since she had a visit to King's Landing planned. Knowing her husband tended to be rather over-protective of her, it would spare everyone a lot of headaches if she waited until she returned.
These days, Valyria rarely denied any request from Viserys to visit the capital. His decreasing health made her fear every visit could be the last time she saw him. Not to mention how she truly missed Aegon and his siblings.
Entering Viserys' chambers, she found the King resting on his bed. Queen Alicent stood by his side as Maester Mellos tended to a few new scab wounds. Normally, the sight of his gaunt features and infected wounds did not faze her. She'd grown used to them. Now her stomach turned.
"Your Graces," she curtsied, forcing a smile, "it's time for me to depart now."
"You will be missed – as always – Princess Valyria," Alicent told her politely. "Although, I guess your absence won't be long."
"And we –," Viserys cleared his throat, "we are very happy for that." Then he smiled, showcasing his rotting teeth, "I have something for you. Mellos."
Grand Maester Mellos reached into a pocket of his dark robes and pulled out a scroll. "Your Highness," he bowed his head as he handed over the scroll. Valyria unrolled the parchment, sending a questioning glance towards the King.
By decree of Viserys I Targaryen, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm,
All of the children of Prince Daemon Targaryen and Princess Valyria Targaryen shall enjoy the style and title of Prince or Princess...
"You, you are giving my children royal titles?" Valyria asked once she finished reading the decree. She couldn't believe it. Her children with Daemon not being addressed as royalty didn't exactly bother her, yet she found Viserys's gesture to be heartwarming. And a part of her also liked the thought of her son – and the future babe – being offered the same courtesy as Rhaenyra's and Alicent's children. "Thank you, Viserys. Daemon and I are most grateful."
"'Tis nothing," Viserys told her. "Not after everything you've done for the realm. For me." Turning his head to his wife, he said, "May I have a moment alone to say goodbye to my cousin?"
"Of course, husband," Alicent obeyed, picking up her skirts as she exited. Maester Mellos begun preparing some herbs to treat the wounds – the scent forcing Valyria to breathe through her nose to not vomit – as she sat down at the edge of the bed.
"I assume everyone in the Small Council did not approve of this," Valyria teased, taking Viserys hand.
"No, but in the end I am still the King," Viserys pointed out. His eyelids dropped yet he forced himself to stay awake, fighting off his tiredness. "Do send my love to your children – and to my brother."
"I will," Valyria promised. "Now take care of yourself." Another wave of nausea hit her and Valyria brought a hand up to her mouth, closing her eyes until it passed.
"Is something wrong?" Viserys asked. "You should not travel if you are sick-"
"I am not sick," Valyria quickly said, not wanting him to work himself over her health when his own was so very fragile. "I assure you." Noticing his disbelieving expression, she realised that the best option was telling the truth. In their shared mother tongue, she then said, "I am with child."
The way Viserys' entire face lit up warmed her heart. Lowering her voice she said, "You are the first to know."
"Daemon-?"
"I will tell him when I return," Valyria said.
"Bless you," Viserys told her warmly. "This makes me so very happy."
"I am glad. Now rest, Your Grace," Valyria stood up and kissed his temple. After giving him a final curtsy, she retreated. Stepping out of the King's chambers, Valyria found the Queen, Hand and Aegon waiting outside. "Lord Hand, Queen Alicent," Valyria said courteously, "are you waiting to wave me off?" She knew perfectly well they were waiting for her to leave the King to fall back into their clutches. With Viserys's weakening state, the Hightowers slowly got more power that diminished whenever she set foot in the Red Keep.
"No," Otto Hightower said, "but we wish you a safe journey, Princess Valyria."
"Thank you," Valyria said. "Aegon, darling, will you escort me to the Dragonpit?"
"Of course, Lyria," Aegon said, linking his arm with hers. Just as they were about to leave, Valyria turned back to the Queen and Hand, "Oh, before I forget," she smiled sweetly, "in celebration of Viserys nameday House Martell has the best weavers, dyers and tailors making new tapestries for the Red Keep. With all this green, one could almost forget that we are in the House of the Dragon."
With that, she turned back around and walked with Aegon away from his mother and grandfather. Once they disappeared from view, Valyria looked at Aegon and both burst out laughing.
.•° ✿ °•.
129 AC, Sunspear
Valyria's return to Sunspear was cloaked by nightfall. She only just managed to arrive in time to bid goodnight to the children before they retired for the evening. While she bathed – getting rid of the dragon's stench – the servants prepared some food for her to eat. Upon finally entering the bedchamber she shared with her husband, he gave her a 'proper welcome home'.
The two laid entangled on their King's sized bed when Valyria said, "I should leave more often if this is the welcome I receive."
Daemon snorted and pinched her side, "When you speak that way, some may think I don't keep you satisfied which we both know is a terrible lie."
"I stand by my previous statement that you are an excellent bed-warmer, dear husband," Valyria grinned, rolling over so that she could look at him properly. Her breasts pressed against his chest and she knew that she only had a short time before Daemon would coax her into another round.
As expected, Daemon's hand that rested against her lower back travelled south. Valyria grabbed his wrist before he could do anything, "We have to talk."
"Talking is for the day," Daemon said dismissively. Rolling them over, he kissed her deeply, stifling any possible reply from Valyria. Quickly, she melted into the kiss, returning it with an equal fervour. Only when she felt him hard against her stomach did Valyria's head clear enough for her to break the kiss. Daemon took that as an opportunity to kiss down her neck.
"Daemon," Valyria gasped. "We have to talk — Viserys-"
Daemon grunted in displeasure, "If you ever say my brother's name when I'm about to fuck you-"
"The King," she said instead, "has given us a most generous gift." Muttering something incoherent under his breath, Daemon lifted his head, abandoning his ministrations. Eyebrows drawn together and lips pursed into a scowl, Daemon waited for her to talk so that he could continue. "Viserys issued a royal decree that gives any child of ours the title of prince or princess."
For a few seconds, Daemon's face did not change as he processed the news. "Jaeron is-"
"Prince Jaeron of House Targaryen," Valyria finished. "And-" she could not tell him the other part of the news before he brought her into another passionate kiss. Valyria couldn't help but laugh at his excitement – she knew this would mean a lot to him – and said, "I am not the one granting them royal titles. You should thank your brother instead – only not in the same way."
"I can not do that now," Daemon pointed out. "May I fuck my darling little wife now?"
"No, not yet," Valyria interrupted him again when she felt his rings grazed against her inner thigh. Daemon groaned, leaning his head against her shoulder. Deciding to put him out of his misery, she said, "I thought you would show a little more merriment about me being with child."
Amethyst eyes snapped up to her face, widening at the news and Valyria couldn't help but laugh. She reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, pulling it away from his face, "Did the cat take your tongue?"
"You're with child," Daemon muttered, breathing out a chuckle. Moving back, he leaned down and pressed a kiss against her bare stomach, hands gripping her hips. "My child."
"No, the gardener's child," Valyria scoffed. Her husband practically growled against her skin, squeezing her hips warningly. "Not one for jests right now, I see. Please do not murder the gardener."
"I will consider sparing him," Daemon crawled back up her body, "but only because you are carrying my babe."
"How thoughtful of you," Valyria playfully pinched his cheek - much to Daemon's displeasure. Then she switched their positions — a well-practised move by now — and sunk down on him.
Daemon threw his head back in pleasure. Then he sat up, palms resting on her hips as he brought Valyria into a loving kiss. Never one to express his feelings with words, actions spoke much louder with Daemon. When the need for oxygen became too much, he pulled back and rested his forehead against hers. For a moment, neither of them moved; they simply sat there cherishing the moment.
Eventually, Valyria rolled her hips and kissed down his cheek until she reached the scarred skin of his neck. Daemon tensed at once. Gripping her neck — just tight enough to not risk strangling her — he crashed his lips to hers in a hungry kiss.
Most of the time, she ignored how he'd always try to distract her whenever she showed any attention to any of his old battle wounds. But not this time. Pushing Daemon back, she asked, "Why do you always do that?"
"What?" Daemon mumbled, hand still encircling her neck as he leaned forward to kiss her again.
Valyria reached up, taking his chin between her thumb and index finger, holding it in place, "You hide yourself from me."
"I assure you, wife, I have nothing to hide," Daemon released her and laid back down on the bed, arms behind his head which caused the muscles of his stomach to contract. "Feel free to look at and do whatever ever you wish, darling wife."
The not so subtle challenge in his smirk irked her. Daemon Targaryen was incapable of ever admitting to anything that could be considered a weakness. To prove her own point, Valyria leaned forward and placed a feather-like kiss against the burn mark on his neck.
Instinctively, he tensed and Valyria smiled softly, "It's nothing to be ashamed of." Her finger trailed against a cut on his ribcage, "I quite like them." Then she softly kissed another healed wound on his shoulder, "They mean my husband is brave – and foolish. And for every scar there is a battle that you've won."
Knowing her husband wasn't particularly fond of these soft moments – especially not when he was the one receiving it – she surprised him by raising up on her knees rocking her hips swiftly against his, taking him in fully again, eliciting a moan from her husband.
"You may fuck me now," Valyria told him and in less than a second she laid on her back.
"With pleasure, princess."
.•° ✿ °•.
A stubborn, impudent woman.
Of all the women – and probably men too – in the realm, Daemon was certain he married the one possessing the greatest stubbornness. Her obstinate determination to always do everything on her own and never listen to anyone happened to be one thing that allured Daemon the most. Seeing his wife put others in their place – Otto Hightower was his favourite – ignited something within him. When that stubbornness affected him, however, Daemon almost – almost – wished for a more obedient wife.
"This is ridiculous. I have matters to attend-" Valyria said, sitting up in bed, ready to stand up. Daemon, who stood by her bedside, gently pushed her back down to rest against the pillows.
"You fainted," Daemon scowled at her. Not for fainting, but for showing so little care for her own health and the health of their child.
"I did not faint," Valyria told him. "I felt faint. It's very warm outside today-"
"It's warm everyday, mūna," Cassian pointed out. "We live in Dorne."
"You are not helping me, love," Valyria told her son who stood by the foot of the bed. Then she turned her gaze to Daemon, "I really don't have time for this."
Silently, Daemon cursed every lord, lady and human in Westeros for pushing his darling wife under so much pressure. Valyria would rather push herself into an early grave in order to please everyone else. It always bothered him and his concern only grew now when she carried his child. Sometimes he wondered if she realised that her body couldn't handle the same stress now; he certainly did since he'd been present the numerous times Dora explained it to the constantly moving princess.
"You do," Daemon said firmly. "Lewyn will handle your duties for the rest of the day."
"No-"
"This is not up for negotiations, Lyria!" Daemon snapped, his patience now gone.
Valyria visibly gritted her teeth as she glared at her husband. Turning her gaze to Cassian, her entire demeanour softened, "Cas, you should join your Uncle Lewyn instead," she told him, holding up her arms in a request for him to give her a hug.
The young boy immediately obeyed, rounding the bed. Cassian placed a knee on the bed and hugged his mother closely. The poor young boy had been very concerned when she nearly collapsed in front of him. Valyria kissed Cassian's cheek, muttering a few words of reassurance to him.
When the boy turned to Daemon, he placed a hand on his step-son's shoulder, "You did well, Cas," he praised him. Instead of panicking, Cassian had calmly assisted his mother to a seat and then called for a healer.
"He did," Valyria agreed. "Although, you did not need to fetch Daemon."
"I found you telling me not to fetch him proof that I should do just that," Cassian retorted, earning a chuckle from Daemon.
"Good lad," Daemon told him, patting his shoulder. Cassian then departed, leaving the two Targaryens alone. The second the door closed, Daemon turned to his wife, "I do not care if I have important matters to attend. I will lock you into these chambers if that is what it takes to make sure you stay in bed for the rest of the day and do nothing."
"I can't let everyone down-"
"Yes, you bloody can," Daemon snapped. "Fuck all of them. Anyone who makes you feel like you owe them anything is a cunt and I'd gladly feed them all to Caraxes."
That's when he noticed Valyria's resolve slowly morphing into one of sadness rather than anger. Sitting down beside her on the bed, he gently wiped away the single tear rolling down her cheek. "I -," Valyria looked down, "I don't want anyone to be disappointed with me."
Daemon couldn't help but wonder if it was the babe who prompted this vulnerability she was showing him. However, he did not complain. With two fingers beneath her chin, Daemon tilted her head up, "No one who is worthy of your attention should feel disappointed by you taking one day to rest whilst carrying a babe."
Taking her hand, he placed Valyria's palm against her growing belly and his own hand over hers, enveloping it completely, "That is our babe in there. You need to care for both of you." For once, she did not argue. Valyria simply offered a slight nod.
Daemon sat with his wife until she'd fallen asleep. While he wanted to stay with her for the rest of the day, Daemon realised that there were other things he could do to lessen his wife's burden. Kissing her cheek, he studied her beautiful, peaceful features for a moment before leaving.
Knowing he'd probably just do more damage than good if he tried to perform Valyria's duties as regent, he asked Lewyn if there was anything he could do. The list happened to be fairly short. Instead the two men agreed Daemon would train the palace guards - something Lewyn usually did - giving the dornishman time to attend the meeting Valyria missed.
On his way back from training — which in his opinion went splendidly and only resulted in a few guards requiring a healer — Daemon spotted a flash of silver hair in the garden.
Then he could have sworn he heard sniffles and his conscience got the best of him. Following the sound Daemon soon located the youngest Martell seated by a fountain in a scheduled part of the garden.
Crying children had never been his forte yet he couldn't bring himself to walk away. Slowly he approached the seven name days old princess who other than her nearly black eyes and olive skin reminded him of Valyria at that age.
"Do you septa know you are here, little dragon?" Daemon asked, announcing his presence.
Aelia's eyes snapped up, red from crying, "Daemon - uh - I - yes, she does."
"I hate to tell you this, Aelia, but your mother was much more skilled in the art of lying at your age," Daemon said as he sat down next to her.
"I am not lying," Aelia said firmly, narrowing her dark eyes at him.
"That is more like your mother," Daemon smirked.
Aelia smiled slightly only to frown a second later, "Is mūna sick?"
"No, of course not," Daemon told her. "She is with child and a bit tired because of it. That is all."
"I heard my septa talk about the babe making her ill," Aelia said quietly. "That's why Dora had to see her today."
Daemon inwardly groaned, not knowing how to explain a pregnancy to a seven namedays old girl. "Your mother — she just needs a bit of rest and then once your brother or sister is born she will be less tired."
"What if she dies?" Aelia muttered, so quietly that Daemon nearly missed it. "Baela and Rhaena's mother died that way? Right?"
That question felt like being dunked in cold water. It truly was one of his worst fears. Losing Laena in the birthing chamber was hard, yet it did not compare to the pain of even imagining Valyria following the same fate.
"She did," Daemon nodded, "but I've known your mother for many, many years. She is strong-"
"My father was strong," Aelia pointed out, lip trembling. "He died anyway."
Aelia's fears became much clearer when Daemon recalled how the little princess lost her father at such a young age. After losing one parent, the fear of losing the other became stronger.
"I won't promise you something I know I have little power over," Daemon told her — he hated when adults lied to him as a child, "but I can promise that your mother will do everything within her own power to keep herself alive. And I know she is not done torturing me, so she won't let herself die until she has driven me into my fucking grave."
Aelia cracked a small smile at that. "Mūna says you are not allowed to curse in front of us children."
"What Lyria doesn't know won't hurt her," Daemon said. "It will be our secret — or your mother might kill me. And that we do not want."
Daemon was caught by surprise when Aelia hugged him, "Thank you, Daemon. You are really nice."
Getting over his shock he hugged the little girl back and asked, "Any chance you can tell your mother that, little sun?"