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Gwin Ashford was hiding in her own home. Normally, the idea would be ridiculous, but with the royal family visiting Ashford Meadow for her nameday, she felt nervous around the Targaryen princes, in particular Valarr Targaryen, second in line to the Iron Throne. He had not given her more than a passing glance and formulaic niceties, yet Gwin blushed and smiled like Florian the Fool.
He was the perfect image of the word “prince,” his mismatched eyes and white streak – the only hint of his Valyrian heritage – gave him an otherworldly look. Maidens throughout the Seven Kingdoms sobbed when his betrothal to Lady Kiera of Tyrosh was announced. Gwin herself was embarrassed to admit she also had fanciful notions of marrying a Targaryen prince in her youth.
When she visited court two summers ago, the Young Prince remained as courteous as ever. Prince Valarr did not have a reputation for drinking, gambling, or whoring, unlike his cousins, which made him even more beloved among maidens and matrons alike. Not even whispers of a mistress, though Gwin knew many ladies would jump at the opportunity.
Perhaps the Young Prince and his father, Prince Baelor Breakspear, did not wish to repeat the mistakes of their forefathers. Bastards that rise higher than their station have only brought devastation to the realm.
Gwin allowed her thoughts to wander. It was a rare moment she could be idle. Although this Tourney at Ashford Meadow was designed for her nameday, she also suspected this was an opportunity for political theatre. She had been crowned the queen of love and beauty the day prior from Lord Hightower’s second son. Despite knowing she would be crowned, it was her nameday after all, Gwin still blushed like a maiden.
Technically, she was still a maiden, that honor of taking her maidenhead belonged to her future husband. But Gwin resented sometimes that a ‘maiden’ was synonymous with the word ‘girl-child.’ She wanted to be seen as a mature young lady; someone her lord father would gladly marry off to an educated and worldly lord. Perhaps her future husband would be handsome, even kind.
She had been daydreaming that she noticed a second too late the sounds of footsteps heading her way. Gwin immediately took refuge in the nearest room. It was another second too late before she realized that this room had been accommodated for one of the guests. The footsteps were coming closer now, heading towards the room Gwin took refuge in. Ashford Castle may be her home, but many rooms had been occupied by their royal guests. Her eyes moved frantically around the room.
A spot in one of the closets provided her much-needed refuge. She silently prayed that those footsteps would walk past, she prayed that she would be free to leave. Of course, the Gods remained silent to her prayers.
The door opened. The young Ashford girl braved a quick look and saw the Young Prince himself and his wife, Kiera of Tyrosh. Her bright pink hair always made her stand out like a peony in the wind. Gwin knew that the Tyroshi loved bright colors and were more flamboyant in their fashions compared to Westerosi women. She had only seen the prince’s wife once from a distance, when Lord Ashford took her and her mother to visit court two summers ago. Lady Kiera was much prettier up close, Gwin thought wistfully.
Gwin was taken by surprise. She did not know that the prince’s wife would also be in attendance. Lady Kiera was not present during the initial introductions, which must’ve meant that she was summoned right after the tourney began. She must have made the journey from King’s Landing almost as soon as the princes arrived, Gwin surmised.
Prince Valarr pulled Lady Kiera onto his lap the moment the door clicked shut, his arms locked around her waist, his face buried in her hair. They said nothing. The room was silent except for their breathing. Lady Kiera stroked the white streak in his hair, and Valarr mumbled something to her in a language Gwin could not understand.
“Do not leave me again,” the Young Prince spoke again in the common tongue. Lady Kiera made a noncommittal sound of amusement.
“I do not care if court etiquette demands you keep your distance.” he murmured though there was no real force behind it.
“A woman’s place is nowhere near a tourney field, as your people would say,” the young girl commented playfully. She had a slight accent, but her voice was as sweet as honeyed pears.
“Fuck the people they don’t know what they want from one day to the next,” the Young Prince’s sharp retort surprised Gwin. It took everything in her to not intake a sharp breath, which would give away her position.
Lady Kiera said nothing, one of her hands continued to run though his hair, the other tracing the dragon patterns among the prince’s doublets.
Prince Valarr was usually soft-spoken like his lord father. People said he took after Baelor Breakspear in character in all aspects. “Your place is by my side. It would give the smallfolk a sense of consistency and the court a subtle reminder of your role in the dynasty,” Valarr stated, as if it were the most reasonable thing to conclude. He made it seem like he was making a logical argument that had no room for pushback.
Gwin wanted to get out, but she couldn't without exposing herself. The prince would probably think her a little spy, his lady wife would probably be confused, and she didn’t want to embarrass herself on her own nameday.
Thankfully, a steward knocked on the door.
“Prince Baelor requests your presence, my prince.” A brief pause, “You are also requested, my lady.”
Prince Valarr raised his wife’s hand and gave it a quick kiss. It was so quick Gwin almost missed it. He murmured something to her again in that strange language. The pink-haired girl nodded.
“We will be there in a moment,” the Young Prince replied. His voice returned to calm and collected.
She waited until they were both gone to let out a breath she had been holding. So many thoughts were going through the young girl's mind. That was a close call. She made a mental note to avoid this wing of the castle during her nameday celebrations. She felt like an intruder in her own home.
Gwin Ashford returned to the festivities, her thoughts far, far away.