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If I would be able to add another sin to the secret writings, I would add jealousy.
It was a feeling the gods did not create to make us happier or healthier, it surely came out of one of the seven hells. Perhaps there are seven demons who exist only to contradict the gods. I could swear this feeling was his most used resource, able to corrupt even the gentlest of hearts.
Mine now felt severed, tainted in black ink, totally overshadowed by the sensation of my skin burning, the water in my eyes blurring my vision. I tried so hard to push it back down.
No one can see me cry. Not about a stupid feeling like this.
Not when all of my life I ever felt a sensation like this, nor even being part of a line where I have so many brothers and sisters which can make a contrast at my side.
As the eldest daughter I never had a real contest with my little sisters, and I never wished to be a man, so I could learn what my father was teaching to my brothers. I always loved the comfort of being myself, the fact that I was too old to be compared to Rhae or Daella, my position as a princess allowing me to have a soft life, and Valarr.
I absolutely loved Valarr.
I came to the conclusion the gods sowed this burning devotion in my heart since I was a child. I cannot remember a day where I did not love my cousin, wishing for the day our fathers finally betrothed us to make a single line from our two families.
They were the favorite brother of the other, after all. Nor a bigger display of their fraternal love than combined their bloods and knowledge in a union.
A smile invades my face every time I remember that day when Daeron told me he dreamt I actually married Valarr when I became ten and six. After that day, I spent the sunny afternoons at Summerhall embroidering things that remind me of him, trying to be attentive to any news the servants could bring about him. He was four years older, so I was still a child when the rumours about who would marry him started flying around, making me beg to the gods every time we went to the septon that they change my age so I could marry him.
When I was fifteen, and my family went back to the capitol for my uncle's second wedding, I remember spending many hours getting ready so I could enchant him. I was also able to remember how much I punched the mattress with my pillows after I saw him dancing with a beautiful lady with pink hair.
Kiera of Tyrosh.
She had advanced territory with him, I have been told she spent already a year in the capitol with him. I didn't know why my uncle Baelor didn't betrothed them immediately when she arrived but the servants told me she was in the Keep with the main purpose of marrying him. I cried for almost a week, and refused to eat every dish my servants brought to my chamber alongside their pleas for me to taste something. I tortured myself, understanding he surely didn't even remember my name, or didn't really feel something about the childhood we shared.
After those depressive weeks, he started finding me on every corner of the castle. The more I tried to not cross paths with him, the more he ended up appearing.
Whispered conversations in the library quickly became long strolls in the gardens, until one day a walk became a forbidden kiss in the bushes next to the pond. That night he asked for my hand after supper and the king, our grandsire, happily agreed.
The Targaryen house needed alliances like the one they intended with the Tyrosh family? Yes, but:
They noticed Valarr's lack of interest in Kiera.
He was Baelor´s son, the heir of the most beloved son of the king. How can he deny his favorite grandson the wish of his heart? A convenient desire because, even in the great goodness of King Daeron, he didn't feel ready to accept the idea of a queen coming from the free cities and not one of the blood of the dragon.
And when the winter ends, a fortnight after my ten and six name day, we married at the Great Septon of Baelor, a wedding that lasted a week and was followed by 5 moons full of love and confidence, a blooming marriage.
He was the most charming prince in the court, the heir of the heir, honorable, intelligent, dutiful. And gods knew how dutiful he was as a husband.
It wasn't a morning where he did not wake me up with a soft kiss, or a night where he sent me to bed without first making me reach the heavens with hours and hours of passionate ministrations.
Everything was idyllic bliss until this afternoon, in the celebration of King Daeron twenty-three years of peaceful reign, where I was standing in the corner of the ballroom feeling lost.
The whole land was invited, alongside our new friends from the free cities, and her. I felt as if dragonfire was burning me from my insides when I saw him laughing with that perfect lady of pink hair. I knew it was part of the political play he had to do, but that beautiful smile was something I locked in my heart as mine. It was hard to explain, but he does not smile like that often, showing his dimples and with his eyes squirting, forming small wrinkles at the end of his eyelids.
Did this mean he had never been mine at all?
I truly never understood how we ended up together when he could have her. With her bright smiles, and her original pink curls shining at the candlelights like magical sparkles.
What was I next to this reincarnate nymph… but another silver-haired girl from a line full of them?
“My love” I didn't notice when he arrived at my side, his honeyed tone almost made me happy, but the thing with the jealousy is that once that it takes root in your heart, it follows you everywhere, and every time you try to fight it, it only grows stronger.
Like the flame of a candle that only burns stronger the more one tries to smother it.
One of his hands softly landed on my waist as he gave me one of his shining smiles. The same gesture he had some moments ago when he was with her. I felt the water covering my eyes again, threatening me with revealing my feelings to him.
“Valarr” My mouth reacted faster, I never called him by his name since we wed, his smile quickly was replaced with a marked frown.
“Is something wrong?” He was so perfect he didn't even dare to look angry, he just looked confused “You never call me by my name” He signaled with a hurt expression.
"It's nothing, dear” I said, and my eyes started searching for the exit of this ball. His hands on my waist held me a little tighter, as if he noticed I was searching for an escape door “I will wait for you in the bedchamber… I'm feeling indisposed"
“What is it? Tell me please. Do you need a maester?” I was feeling bad for leaving him so distressed, but when the laugh of Kiera and other gentleman arrived to my ear I decided this was unbearable to me.
“No… I just need to get out” I was unable to take my eyes off of her, and when I took a step back and his hands fell to his sides, I knew this would be a thing later. But I didn't care, I just wanted to be out here “have fun my love, the guests seem to be… entertained with your presence” I didn't want to sound too annoyed, or jealous, but maybe it was inevitable.
I turned around and started walking, quickly crossing half of the ballroom.
“Hey” I heard him following me when I was near the exit “Hey, what do you mean with that?” He asked, making me stop by holding my wrist softly, “If you don't talk to me, I cannot help”
“I don't need your help” I replied bluntly—an angry explosion, but not against him. Never against him. This was about me and my feelings making me perceive myself smaller every second I remain here. “What I need is to stop seeing you, can you please leave me alone?”.
I felt my jaw hurtfully tight as my teeth bit hard in an attempt to not cry yet.
And when he let me go with a look I will have nightmares about, every step on my way to the bedchamber my chin moved uncontrollably and my eyes left tears escaping them even against my will.
The guards that see me on the halls look to the floor respectfully, allowing me to keep crying without shame until I lock myself inside our chamber, where I finally allow myself to be free.
Like my childhood days, I punched a pillow against the mattress, and when I felt an asphyxiating sensation born inside me I messily undo the laces of my dress, almost tearing it off me.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck” I whisper as I layed my head against one of the walls, embracing my legs to my chest. He was mine and I was his, that is what we promised that sunny afternoon many months ago, but with a single hour in an event I totally lost my senses at the presence of his previous courtly subject.
“Wife?” I heard his voice agitated as he closed the door and started searching around the chamber until he noticed me on the floor “Gods, you okay?” It took him a few strands to come near me and kneel.
“Everything is good” It was the biggest lie I have ever told him, so evident that my face didn´t even try to force a smile.
“No, it is not” He said, his hand softly caressing my cheek “are you going to tell me now?”.
I didn't want to, he would think of me as an infant making a tantrum, and perhaps if I told him about my fears, honesty would lead him to confess things I didn't need to hear.
What if he loved her a lot? What if he wished to be with her instead of me?.
“I told you I wanted to be alone” I try to change the subject, looking elsewhere “Guests should be eager for you to come back…” I whisper and he sighs.
“I don´t care… I cared about my sweet princess crying on the floor of our bedchamber. He says, his hands sliding down to lift me up, scooping me into the couch “please, my love, tell me what on earth distresses you? I promise I will make it disappear”. He knelt between my knees, bringing his eyes level with mine and his hands caressing the skin of my arms softly.
He didn't deserve this shit but he deserved the truth.
“And if it's a lady? Will you make her disappear?”
His frown came back, and his caresses stopped, leaving only the warmth of his skin against mine since his fingers didn't leave the spot.
“Do not tell me this is about Kiera” I looked elsewhere as he mentioned her, perhaps I was hallucinating but, why does it have to sound so poetic her name on his lips?.
“Seven hells” I whisper and tears invade my sight again.
“Perhaps this is my fault” His comment seems more to himself than to me, his mismatched eyes looking down while he thinks “We never really talked about Kiera, and our year together, and..”
My head denied violently and the hem of my fingers landed on his mouth softly.
“Please no” I stopped him, soft sobs escaped my mouth before I could continue “I do not wish to hear of it, of what you have lived with her… I knew when I arrived here you two were almost betrothed…”
He took my hand and kissed it.
“The way you speak about it tells me you know nothing of it” Instead of feeling hope of being wronged, I felt that passionate anger back inside my guts.
“Yeah, I know nothing of what you two had, but I knew what you two felt.” His confusion did not make me stop myself, I was so full of emotions I couldn´t stop, I was unable to let him explain to me “The way you smile at her? You only smile like that with me, and you were the one who went to her, you think I`m blind?” My fingers caressed his cheeks, the beautiful face that was mine, that I adored, totally morphed by a strange look. “Why didn't you choose her, huh? Or you aren't with her cause she didn't choose you and I was the best second option?”
“You know nothing of what you are saying…” His voice was quieter now. Not angry—wounded. His tone felt disarmed. Misunderstood.
I stood and left him kneeled there, starting to walk around the room. My hands caress my hair frenetically, a way to bear the uncontrollable pain in my heart.
“You look good with her, Valarr. You should have married her, perhaps she would have gave you kids faster, or kept you happier on bed, or-”
I stopped when he hugged me hard from behind, his hands catching mine, pulling them gently away from my hair. Then I noticed that perhaps I was touching my scalp too roughly and I was starting to feel pain.
“I married the right woman, wife” his frustrated tone produced me goosebumps “I married you because I wanted you since we were children. I do not wish for any other at my side. And I will not allow you to think otherwise—not even out of mercy for your jealousy will I let you erase my truth, how you have haunted my dreams and taken possession of my heart since I was a boy”. His forehead landed on my shoulder and my body started to get relaxed again. “This is all my fault” He cried out, my hands holding his arms around me, responding to his hug “I thought I have done everything great, I left no room for you to ever feel unloved. I see now my love was not enough to shield you from this”
“It´s not your fault” If his love was not able to soften my anger, his sadness surely did. Every bad thing I feel now is being replaced with the need of fixing this.
After his confession I finally understood he loved me like I loved him. We waited for each other all this time. Now it made sense she spent almost a year in the capital without becoming his betrothed, when it took him only a month to choose me "It's my fault, it was your foolish wife and her foolish feelings”
He held me tighter.
"Don't you dare speak that way about the woman I love” He said and I couldn't resist a smile “This is no one's fault, jealousy is a human feeling, my love…” His whispers were accompanied with soft movements of his fingers on my skin, my breath went back to normal and my eyes dried, his love had the power capable of calming my distressed heart every time.
“Not for you, you are always so composed…” I point and I sense his smile against the skin of my back.
“You sound very sure… are you?” He asked me, and his tone made something low in my body tighten. Without warning, his lips found my neck—slow, deliberate, as if testing how easily I would melt for him.
My body softened against him almost instantly, my head falling back to rest on his shoulder. “You think I do not feel jealous over you, then?” He whispers in my ear.
I denied and he chuckled. But it wasn´t the fresh sound his laughter usually were, this felt as if he was teasing me.
“No?” he murmured, his voice low, almost amused. His teeth grazed my ear just enough to pull a gasp from me. “I have felt it more times than I have ever allowed you to see… But since you are so sure… answer me this-who was I watching the entire evening?” His hands slid down slowly until they found my hips, holding me there—firm, grounding. “Every time you laugh with someone else… every time another man looks at you as if he has the right…,” his voice dropped further, “the difference is… I trust you.”
“I trust you” I said too quickly, and tried to look into his eyes, but he had hidden his face against my shoulder, “It´s different, you were supposed to marry her!”.
He guided me a few steps toward the bed… making me sit.
“You don´t know how many times I heard as a boy Aerion saying he will claim you” He says, and his eyes glowing with emotion tell me more about this story than what his words were describing “He used to tell me that, when you all came back here, he will marry you… I wanted to kill him”.
In my whole life, I had never heard Valarr speak of wanting to kill anyone—not once.
“He tortured me, you know?” His hands slid down my body with practiced ease, finding the slick heat between my legs. Two fingers stroked me open, and a broken moan tore from my throat before I could stop it. His smile got wider. “He told me you loved him. That the two of you had carried on a secret affair for years at Summerhall. The only reason you weren’t already wed was because your father was waiting for you to be ten and six” The fabric of my tunic pooled at my waist. My head fell back against the mattress as his mouth replaced his fingers, hot and relentless. “How do you think that made me feel?” His breath ghosted over my folds, sending a fresh shudder through me.
No matter how many nights he had done this, I could never stay quiet. Never stay still. His tongue moved over my most sensitive spot with devastating precision, making my thighs tremble and my head went numb. Two fingers pushed inside me again, stroking that perfect place until the ache in my belly turned molten.
“Jealous?” I gasped, pleasure coiling tighter.
His answer was replacing his moves with a hard sucking, denying without needing to use words. The sudden spike of sensation ripped a cry from me; my fingers tangled on his hair, holding him there as my hips jerked against his mouth.
“Feral?” I murmured, that was the only word I could think about. The only thought my mind was able to create.
Then he stopped, pulling back just enough to smile and licked his glistening fingers clean. Before I could protest the loss, he kissed me slowly but deep, full of love.
“Forgive me, my love,” he whispered against my lips, “but I want you to come around me.”
He guided me to the vanity, turning me so I faced the mirror. My hands braced against the polished wood as he shoved my skirts higher. I watched in the glass as he freed himself and quickly lined up at my entrance.
“What—” The word barely left my mouth before he thrust in with one smooth, powerful stroke.
A strangled moan escaped me. His hand caught my chin, gentle but firm, forcing my gaze back to the mirror.
“I want you to see her, the woman I love.” He pulled out almost to the tip and drove back in, harder. “I love you.” Another thrust, deeper. “And I want you to watch me make love to the only woman I have ever loved.”
He set a brutal rhythm—nothing like our usual slow, worshipful nights. This was raw, desperate. As if he was trying to thrust his truth inside me. The vanity creaked under every snap of his hips and my combs scattered across the floor.
In the mirror I saw everything about me: my disheveled braids, strands of silver hair falling down the top of my head, how my breasts spilled free from the loosened tunic, bouncing with each thrust; my mouth slightly open and a light blush covering my flesh.
“See how beautiful you are,” he growled, fingers digging into my hips. His voice was half-moan, half-prayer. “You have never looked more beautiful”
“I love you,” I sobbed, pleasure growing fast inside me.
He felt it, felt me clench around him, and groaned. His pace faltered, growing uneven, desperate. We got lost in time as our skin slapped, feeling every fiber in our bodies, both doing everything we can to chase the edge together.
“You are mine,” he rasped, forehead pressed between my shoulder blades. “Fuck, you’re mine and I’m only yours.”
The words tipped me over. I came hard, crying out his name, walls pulsing around him. He followed with a broken shout, burying himself to the hilt as he spilled inside me, hips stuttering, arms locked around my waist as though I might vanish if he let go.
Only when the last tremor faded did he press a soft, lingering kiss to the back of my neck, breathing hard against my skin.
“Gods…” I felt my throat dry as I forced myself to say something, not only I felt exhausted, but calmer. Safe now that I knew his truth.
“You are always amazing…” He whispers, pulling off me and helping me straight, holding my arms as I incorporate and helping me turn to see him. He hugs my waist and smiles “I will tell you everything in another moment, now I need to rest” We both chuckled, my hands landing on his chest, feeling him under clothes “I will just tell you it was a year full of me, telling her how much I missed you”.
“You do?” I was surprised at the fact he explicitly mentions me with her, I thought his longing was just stored on his heart and that at least he tried to look courteous.
“I was the definition of a lovesick fool, we became friends when she noticed she cannot replace you in my heart” A nostalgic smile appeared on his lips, as if reminding that times felt distant now that we were together. He helped me reach the bed and we quickly found our usual pose, my head under his arm as he hugged me by the waist. “Perhaps I lied about we both being poisoned by this morning's meal, so rest my love”.
My eyes started to squint, but before I got to sleep I needed to repeat myself one more time.
“Forgive me for being jealous, gods know I believe in you more than in anyone in this world, I don't know what happened to me”
He kissed me softly, and finally my eyes got closed.
“Nothing to forgive, my love. Now rest”.