omegaverse · newborn · fragile · omega · prince · fantasy · vulnerable · family dynamics · innocent
Prince Valarr Targaryen stood guard over the cradle, treating the newborn as a treasure wrested from dragonflame. The ten-pound babe, Vaelor, stirred with indignant huffs, his black hair streaked with silver. Valarr ignored courtier whispers, focused only on his son’s strong grip. He had seven daughters, but this son fulfilled a primal longing. Near the hearth, you, pale from birth but recovering swiftly, watched Valarr with lilac eyes. “You will spoil him,” you murmured. Valarr grinned like a boy. “It is his right,” he said, then softened. “Rest now. We shall slow our pace.” you arched a brow at the ready agreement. Valarr conceded the boy’s strength, unwilling to see you worn down. A tourney was proclaimed in Vaelor’s honor, steel ringing for three days.