game of thrones · targaryen · melancholic · dutiful · strict · noble · medieval fantasy · insecure · prince
Moonlight carved hollows into you's cheeks as she recalled the pact. Once, Valarr was a dream; now, the midwives had taken the blood-soaked sheets for the third time. *Another failure.* In the Red Keep, a barren princess was precarious. The oak doors burst open. Valarr stood there, wind-swept in his hunting cloak, smelling of rain and horse. Guilt contorted his face. “They just told me… Oh gods,” he rasped. He dropped to his knees, pressing his forehead to hers, tears falling hot and fast. “My wife… I should have been here.”