Chapter Text
Princess Alia Targaryen awoke to a few small kisses on her shoulder and a deep voice in her ear.
“Good morning, love.” She turned to face Maekar Targaryen, her new husband. It was their first day as man and wife. He looked younger in the morning light and even more so for the delicate smile on his pale face. “Did you sleep well?”
“Better than I thought I would. It was quite the day.” A night of dancing and love making had exhausted her and she fell asleep in his arms not long after they had finished.
“It was a much better evening…”
“And you, your Grace?”
A deep groan came out as his face dropped back to the grumpy face she had found so intriguing. “I told you not to call me that. You're my wife, not some sycophantic lordling.”
“Oh I know! You're just so handsome when you're mad.”
“Then you shall have plenty of opportunities to find me han-”
Alia cut him off with a kiss to the tip of his nose and his smile returned.
“Mayhaps, we play Princeling and The Young Maid…”
With one arm around her waist, he pulled her closer. “Already with the games? I hoped it would take at least a year before you asked to play pretend.” She placed a dozen light kisses along his jaw.
“You've awoken a great beast. I have years of catching up to do. Every dirty Essosi book I've read, every whispered tale of debauchery-”
“You'll ruin me, Quentyn was right…” His eyes rolled in the back of his head but she felt him harden against her thigh. “Lucky then I informed the castle that we are not to be disturbed under penalty of flogging.” His rough hand trailed down her back and grabbed a handful of cheek.
“Flogging? Yes, I wanted to try that too.” Alia smiled so wide that her high cheeks turned her black eyes resembled chips of dragon glass. Maekar's face had twisted into a slightly horrified expression, yet she felt his cock twitch in excitement. She kissed him deeply, although he did not kiss back, she felt his small laugh on her lips.
“Fucking hells… You are filthy. I've known whores that were less enthusiastic.” He kissed her back now. She did not know if he could pull her any tighter. If he did, they might melt together as one. However, he was still not inside her yet and Alia's hips rocked against him, even as he insulted her. Still… she could not let him think he had it too easy. His words aroused her but they cut her slightly too. Did she go too far? Maekar might think less of her. Already she had shown too much of herself.
She ceased her grinding and pulled herself away so she was just out of reach should he wish to kiss her again. “Of course you have. Whores fuck hundreds of men. No one in the world knows men better than a whore. Sex is a transaction. A good whore can give a man any fantasy he can afford.” Her Dornish accent became a little thicker as she danced over her words. “I have only fucked you, and once at that, how do you expect me to compete with whores?” There was a hint of sarcasm in her voice and a pout on her lips but a hint of truth in her words. “I wish to love and to fuck only you. Perhaps you have other lovers but I can not. We are not in Dorne and the realm has had enough bastards for a century.”
He laughed but almost in confusion. “I did not marry you to fuck you. I thought I was too old to defrock maidens.”
Alia knew she was not hiding the conflicted feelings on her face. At first she thought she was too much for him. Now she wondered if she was too much. “Why did you marry me? Last night Baelor said you turned down every option brought to you.” Her voice was barely a whisper.
Maekar brushed her hair from her face, Alia caught his hand as it returned. It took both of hers to truly hold it. One hand on his palm, the other with his fingers. She wondered how something so large and calloused, how hands that have been bloodied by countless men, could feel so soft in hers.
His eyes pierced through the wall she had built of japes. “I did not want to remarry, but I married you. I sought comfort with other women after Dyanna but I did not find it.” His voice grew shaky when he said her name. He rarely spoke of his first wife and Alia knew better than to ask. Another dornish girl, beautiful by all accounts. Her hair fairer and her eyes matching the violet of her house's crest. Alia had her own beauty, of that she knew, but she stood out at Summerhall. The Santagar were Andal in origin but over the years had mixed with the many different people of Dorne, The Summer Isles, and The Free Cities. She was resistant to marrying into the royal family. Eyes would be on her and tongues would wag. All of Dorne knew that the other kingdoms could not stand them or their ways. Another ‘foreign’ princess just may tip them over the edge. Truly though, it wasn't the realm that made her halt. She had been scared of entering a marriage with a widower. How could she live up to the image of a dead woman? Especially one so dearly loved.
Maekar's voice became softer and as raw as chipped stone. “Baelor was the only one who did not remind me of my duty. His Jena… he understood. When my mother sent the letter that suggested you and I should meet, and I hope you forgive me for this, I threw it in the fire. It was only when a letter from Baelor arrived a week later. He sang your praises. He urged me to at least have supper with you one night at Valarr's nameday celebrations.”
“You never told me.” It was all she could say. The weight in his voice made her know she should listen very carefully. She had met the Queen and Prince Baelor at Saera and Quentyn's wedding at Sunspear. Maekar had not come. He had little love for weddings. She saw him excuse himself from their own and she instead danced with Maekar's children or Baelor for most of the night. Thinking on it now, she knew he did not want to return to the country of his late wife's birth. Nor would he wish to dance and drink in the name of love and union. How many reminders of her would be there? How many ghosts of Dyanna were at their own wedding? Summerhall must be full of small hauntings that plagued his mind.
“Why would I? I'm only telling you now because I want you to be sure of yourself. I am glad I met you. I have carried a large weight with me all these years and you made it feel lighter.” His honesty made her break eye contact. A shyness overtook her again. “My love for her won't leave me, but my heart still beats. You are interesting and witty and you do not treat me like some golden dragon. You were not frightened of me. On top of it all, you are unbelievably beautiful. You are a rarity, I can assure you. You're right about a whore, they can offer you anything money can buy. But coin can not buy what you have given me. I would not trade you for the most talented whore in all of Lys, nor for any maiden, or princess, or ale wife for that matter. Nor would I care if you were any of those things.”
She wished to ask if he would trade her for Dyanna but she knew that was a cruel thing to ask. Instead, she smiled softly. It was so rare for him to speak like this. In their meetings and letters, he was curt. They made each other smile and laugh. They spoke of their lives, their values, their opinions. Their first supper devolved into a great argument about the tactics of Aegon's Conquest. Never had such tenderness been the subject of conversation. She had been ready to take him once more only moments before. Now their souls were as naked as their bodies. Alia felt a small tear trickle past her ear and into the feather pillow below it.
“I too am glad we met. I had my own misgivings about finding a husband. I don't think the Gods brought us together so much as they broke in too stubborn horses.” An asymmetrical smile lit up Maekar's face. “We both want this to work. I believe it will, so long as we remember that. We chose this. I want to spend every morning with you… like this. You and I both wear armour, let us try to remove it when we are together.”
“You are wise too.”
“I can be many things: a wife, a whore, The Hand of The Prince…”
“Oh fuck off.” The two laughed. Alia moreso but that was because her laugh carried on longer than his short chortle. “Just be you. I will be myself, as horrid as that sounds.” They kissed once again. Their breath became one. Neither cared that the wine of last night still lingered, rancid sweet on each other's tongues. The bed stunk of perfumed oil, sweat and the dark wood of the frame. They snuggled into each other once more. She rubbed her nose into his white purred chest. He took in a deep breath of the ebony curls that spiraled from the top of her head.
“So what is the schedule for today? Where do I have to be?” Alia asked as her finger drew circles on his skin.
“Nowhere you don't wish to be. I really did tell everyone not to disturb us. There is nothing either of us must do until supper tonight. We have one more evening before our families depart tomorrow morning. Well… not my children. You're stuck with them I'm afraid.”
“You won't ship them off to The Wall for me? You brute!” She bit lightly at the skin of his chest before stretching and turning to face him more clearly. “No… they are part of you and if I am to love you, I will love them too and expect nothing in return.” The boys had been chivalrous on their first meeting but the wedding, the reality of it, had put ice in their veins. Rhae was the only one who did not remember their mother and Daeron was the only one who understood that Alia would not be replacing her. It would take time but Alia only hoped that one day they would come to love her, in their own way. “I will miss my family but it will be better when they leave us. It will feel more real. I know I'm not losing my family, only gaining more.”
“Your patience with my children is admirable but know that they will test it. The true mystery is why you accepted my proposal.” He spoke as if it exhausted him. Maekar had asked her if she was sure when she had first arrived at Summerhall. Alia had wanted a large family. She had a few cousins but no true siblings. Alia's own mother suffered long after her birth and the maesters advised against another. She was sure that Maekar and his family was what she wanted. There would be no questioning of her fertility and no pressure to produce a male heir. The realm may thank her if she did not produce more heirs to the throne.
She looked into his eyes. “I enjoy your company. You make me laugh even when you don't mean to.” Truly, she married him because she found him deeply attractive. It pained her to admit that she was so shallow. A handful of men had attempted to court Alia Santagar. Some were pretty and delicate, others rough and strong, but no man had looked so charming with a scowl on his face. He was weary and scarred; yet he looked like a statue to her. Every mark and wrinkle on him looked purposeful. He was familiar and new all at once. “I find myself looking for you even in a room full of many others. You are very handsome-” Alia was interrupted by a small chuckle from her husband. Whether it was of pride or disbelief, she was unsure.
“You have been nothing but honest and clear with your intentions.” Alia had been named the heir to Spottswood but Maekar was far from a landed knight attempting to ‘achieve’ a lordship. She had little fear of him, yet she saw men's backs grow straight when he entered a room. Everyone saw the power he wielded but Alia saw the man inside. The small cracks in The Anvil had intrigued her like nothing before. “I see a riddle in you. Not one that seeks to confuse me, but a depth beneath the man. There is a richness within you that I wish to see.”
Alia was truly a rarity… she had made the great Prince Maekar blush. The faint pink of his cheekbones broke up the silver sea of his face. Maekar's brow furrowed as he desperately attempted to rid his face of any colour. “Come here.” Alia lifted her head to his. A tender kiss, a wordless thanks. She placed her head back on his chest. His heartbeat was slightly quicker upon her return.
“You know…” Maekar broke the silence once Alia's laugh ceased. “I made a vow to you, not in the sept, in my head as you slept.”
“Go on.”
“I pledged to kiss every freckle on your skin.”
He took her hand and brought it to his lips. There he placed a small kiss on her knuckle. It was as if it was a rose he did not wish to bruise. There was indeed a tiny, easy to miss freckle.
“You'll be kissing for days...”
“Years, I hope.” His kisses were now moving slowly up her arm. She fell back so that they were side by side. His mouth danced and flew to each tiny spot where the sun had also kissed her. His beard tickled her arm. She giggled in pleasure. He had made it to her shoulder now, the skin even softer there. A triad of blemishes sat just below her right collarbone, there he placed three little pecks. Maekar looked up at his smiling bride. He put his lips to the small mole on her chin. “Enough for now. I will get through all of them though. I may have to kiss a few again, and again, just to make sure I cherish every one.”
“I will take great pleasure in telling you where to kiss me.”
“I made another vow too but I thought it inappropriate while we were having a moment.”
“After it all started with a rant about whores? Please!”
“I vow to keep a record of every time I make you come.” His head rose so that he was above her. His face was merely a hair away from her own. “So we should start ticking off that list of yours.”
“You should never have told me that. Now all I want is for you to run out of fingers by the morrow.”