Chapter Text
Kiera of Tyrosh is more beautiful than you can imagine. Her perfect curls frame her face in a way which should be illegal.
Gods.
You forget that you are in your pajamas right now – and suddenly, those joke tshirts that Tansy bought you and Dunk weren’t that funny anymore, and those pj pants are less silly-comfy and just plain childish. Your coat barely does enough to cover the embarrassing graphics on your tshirt. You could only thank the gods that your bruise is gone, and that barely a faint glimpse of what once was a deep gash on your cheek exists.
She’s god-like, Kiera is, as she faces you. Cotton-candy hair, an expensive looking cream winter coat. Jeans with heels. Heels. In winter.
The kind of effortlessly beautiful person who wouldn’t think twice about walking in and out of your and Tansy’s boutique.
It’s some kind of saving grace that you’ve managed to put on a bit of makeup and have your hair done somewhat-presentably (well, you had been on your way to see Aerion Targaryen, of course, and you couldn’t just show up looking half-dead on your feet).
Speaking of the boy… your gaze drifts over to darling Aerion, and you immediately regret doing so.
He doesn’t look angry. He looks unbelievably hurt.
His eyes glisten with something wet and his jaw ticks, the coffee in his hands steaming up and chance of you getting back to him, to hash all of this out and explain, even when you yourself are so confused.
Your heartstrings pull towards him, almost reaching, when Valarr’s hand shifts on your back and you snap back into reality. Valarr, right next to you, is smiling uncomfortably at the silence and you jolt forward.
“Hey, Kiera, right?” You introduce yourself, stumbling over your words.
She looks at you. Something awful flickers across her face, something that says you? really? and you feel an ice-cold bucket of dread wash over you.
Gracefully, she plasters a smile across her perfect lips.
“Yes.” She shifts to face Valarr, and you exhale, turning back to Aerion, pleading.
He seems to gather himself, jaw ticking as his sunglasses find their way back down on his nose. You need to talk to him. Now, more than ever, mostly. So you attempt to excuse yourself.
“Uh, can you excuse me, please-”
“You moved on quickly, then.”
The words aren’t directed at you, obviously, but the tone in Kiera’s voice as she rips into Valarr feels like ice cubes sliding down your back.
The silence that ensues is awkward and uncomfortable. You briefly see a flash of discomfort pass across Valarr’s features; lips tightening, brow setting.
But Valarr has literally just kissed you, right when you’re combatting thoughts about Aerion, and confused about Daeron, and everything in you is just screaming to get a fucking grip.
“Took longer for me than you.” Valarr snaps at Kiera. His poorly-concealed feelings bubble to the surface, and you shift on your feet as it begins to snow. Little flakes of ice drift down from the sky, catching in Kiera’s pink curls, emphasizing her angelicality even more.
“That was a mistake.”
“How on earth was that-” Valarr closes his eyes in frustration, holding the bridge of his nose, before looking down at you. He smiles gently. “Can you find us a table inside, please?”
You just nod, silently, shooting a small smile at Kiera, who ignores it. Then, you proceed to traverse up the slippery steps to the cafe, and enter, met with a very welcoming wave of warmth.
Aerion. That’s who you need to find.
A quick conversation with the barista leads you to a cosy booth in the corner, spacious. You sit, anxiously tapping away on your phone, and navigate to instagram.
INSTAGRAM CHAT - PRIVATE MESSAGES
@ syraxbaby
I promise I can explain – where are you?
Seen
Aerion left you on seen.
Fuck.
Fuck fuck fuck.
As if on cue, Valarr sits down opposite you, sliding into the opposite side of the booth with an ease only those who grew up with a high end sort of comfort possess.
You stare at each other.
“I am so sorry.”
“What the fuck, Valarr.”
The entire situation is so ridiculous that you can’t help but laugh. Not a good laugh, however, which is how Valarr initially takes it.
Relief shines in his eyes as you cackle, and he smiles.
“I thought you would be angry.” He breathes, leaning back into his seat. “I didn’t think-”
“Oh, I’m furious.”
Valarr’s face drops.
“Shit.” He mumbles.
“What were you even thinking dude-”
“I wasn’t! I saw Kiera and I panicked, and you were right there so I just…”
You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest.
“Kissed me? That’s your logic when you see your ex?”
Valarr shrugs – but he does look devastated.
“I was here to meet Aerion.” You say shortly, and Valarr’s head snaps up to see you, see the flush soaking your cheeks, the way your voice and mouth and eyes soften at the very idea of the blond boy. “And he saw that. Us.”
It only takes Valarr maybe two, three seconds before understanding blooms across his face, and his eyes go wide and his jaw slackens and his hand comes up to cover his mouth.
“Oh my gods – you like Aerion– mmph–”
You scramble over the table to slap your palm against his mouth, shooting daggers at Valarr.
He's saying words you haven’t even said to yourself.
You don’t know what to do. Aerion must be feeling all kinds of weird things right now, you assume, because your entire thing with Aerion is just weird in general. And now you’re all wrapped up in Valarr’s weird thing he has with Kiera, and judging by Daeron’s phone call from earlier it isn’t much better between you and him as well.
In short – you’re fucked.
“Are you going to be quiet?” You hiss. Valarr nods.
Leaning back – voice small, arms wrapping around to hold yourself – you take a deep breath.
“What do we do, Valarr?”
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Turns out Valarr has no idea what to do.
His suggestions consisted of two very extreme, very bad ideas. A) fake dating Valarr, then fake a breakup so that you both can go off to your respective partners (as in, the pathetic puppy-dog loyalty that soaks into your gaze when you so much as see a photo of Aerion; and Valarr pining over his ex-girlfriend), or B) moving to Essos.
Moving costs too much money.
“What if I fake my death?” You jest lightly, emptying a third cup of hot chocolate and pushing it over to the ever-growing pile of mugs that you and Valarr are creating. “I could, I dunno, pretend to get in a car accident. Move to a different city. Dye my hair turquoise blue.”
Valarr groans where his head is slumped on the table, hands fisted in his hair. The white streak glints in the ambient lighting of the cafe. “This is awful. I’ve fucked up so bad.”
You shake your head, shrugging. If you get all moody, then the both of you will just get depressed, and that helps absolutely noone, so you have to be the light to this dark, dark day.
“It’s okay. It’s not that bad. Just a misunderstanding.” You reassure him, and yourself in the process. “I’m sure Aerion will understand-”
“I’ve just gone and lost any chance of regaining normalcy now.” Valarr chokes.
Fuck. Is he crying?
You press your lips together. Then, it dawns on you. “Just… why don’t you tell them the truth? Your cousins. Say, ‘hey, I didn’t want my ex to think I’m sad and lonely, so I kissed that bartender girl.’ They’ll understand-”
Valarr lifts his head, blankly looking at you.
“That’s genius.”
You blink. Yeah, duh.
“How didn’t we think of that before?” Valarr groans, before pulling out his phone. His face pales at a notification, and you lean to peer over at it but he stands abruptly.
“I, uh, I gotta go. I’ll text you, okay? And I’ll tell them.” Valarr rushes out, paying for the drinks as you sit there, shocked.
Oh-kay.
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groupchat – drinking dragons
valarr
We need to talk, guys.
daeron
ok???
valarr
Where's Aerion?
aerion
i have nothing to say to u
valarr
Come on, Aerion. I can explain.
Look. Kiera was walking up to me,
and I didn’t want to look like a complete
loser, and the bartender was just
walking past, and I didn’t think. And it
wasn’t anything. I promise.
daeron
yo i feel super out of the loop rn
aerion
valarr kissed her
daeron
who?
oh my god
VALARR
WTF
valarr
Have you READ my text???
aerion
yeh
like i believe ts
valarr
We aren’t even compatible!
It was purely platonic!!!
aerion
YOU KISSED HER
KNOWING HOW I FELT
daeron
wait wait wait
u like her????
aerion?????
valarr
Aerion I promise I didn’t know. And I
apologised profusely to her. She
feels so bad about what happened.
And I feel worse. This is all my fault.
daeron
aerion u like her too?????
aerion
tf u mean too
daeron
…o shit
₊✩‧౨ৎ₊˚
The bite of the ice surrounding the shakers is a cool welcome to your currently clouded mind. Aerion still hasn’t responded to your texts, so you’ve left your phone in the office just in case he texts back and you spiral completely.
It’s a relatively early night, slow. Your manager gives you a nod. “9:30 you’re off. It’s not gonna get much busier.” She raises her brows at you. You nod and finish garnishing the cocktail before taking it to the customer.
Fifteen minutes pass and you’re sitting at the bar, taking a sip of wine. Tansy is next to you, the girl who you haven’t seen in what feels like years chatting about her all-consuming crush on a certain tall blonde boy called Duncan.
“And he just asked to go out for coffee. What am I supposed to wear?” She twists a lock of her hair in between her fingers, and you stare at the wine glass.
“I mean, did he say what kind of coffee?” You wiggle your eyebrows at her. “Is it just coffee, or is it coffee and a walk, or coffee and a kiss and a movie?”
Tanselle groans and slumps, before her phone buzzes. She looks down at it and yelps.
“He’s asking if I want to come over!”
You push her arm gently, cackling. “Go get him, tiger!”
She presses a smooch to your cheek. “I’m so sorry to dash like this, love. I just-”
“Girl. Don’t worry. I get it. Ugh, my two favourite people, dating, could I ask for anything more?!” You cut her off, grinning.
An understanding smile flickers from your face as Tansy opens the door, and she squeals and waves before she ducks out.
You sit, smiling at the door, before it opens back up almost immediately and a white-streaked brunet stumbles through the door, his mismatched eyes scanning the room until they lock on you. His voice cracks.
“There you are. I need to talk to you.”
Without warning, Valarr bursts into tears.
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“A brain tumor? By the mother, Valarr. That's awful, I’m so sorry.”
It’s hard to comfort a crying Targaryen when they keep downing shots of tequila, but through the hiccups and coughs you manage to decipher the blubbers.
“He- his surgery is next Thursday at eight. And, well. They said it’s minimally invasive.”
“That’s good, buddy. They’re gonna help him.” You rub his back.
His face shifts to look at you, and through the red-rimmed eyes and flushed cheeks you do understand why Kiera of Tyrosh was with Valarr Targaryen. Until she wasn’t. But, that’s irrelevant.
His hair is falling into his purple and brown eyes, and the solid jaw ticks as he swipes at the tears streaking down his cheeks. His lips are parted, and you would be lying if you said your gaze didn’t drift down to them before snapping back up to his eyes.
“Why don’t we talk somewhere quieter?” You ask gently.
The music blares louder as if confirming your comment, and Valarr winces before nodding, hands shaking.
“Hey. It’s gonna be okay.” You reassure.
The two of you meander around the surrounding streets, the quiet of midnight encompassing you as you chat. Somehow, you find your way to the park, the lanterns dotting the pathways casting circles of yellow onto the ground. There’s a sort of comfort, walking next to Valarr, as you talk about his father, about Valarr’s fears, about your own.
“Y’know, I’ve never talked to anyone about this stuff before.” Valarr slurs, resting against the stump of a nearby tree. The buzz of the drinks you had at the bar surges through you, warm and all-encompassing, and you settle next to him.
“Whynot?” You ask, blinking slowly as you watch someone jog past with their dog.
“Dunno. Seemed stupid. Still does.”
“Well, it’s not stupid.” You turn your head to him, but he’s closed his eyes. He grunts an agreeable noise, and you laugh slightly.
It is pretty comfortable leaning against this tree.
The last thing you see before you slip into sleep is the clouds resting above your heads, grey things filled with thoughts of yesterday and tomorrow.