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Valarr Targaryen was not a man who lost himself to anger lightly. So when his footsteps barged through the halls of the Ashford keep with unmatched ferocity, servants ducking out of the way so as to not acquire the stormy gaze of the Prince, whispers quickly spread throughout the household.
For his part, Valarr hadn't wanted to upset anyone. Even if he wasn't acutely aware of how precarious the Targaryen reputation was at this present stage, he did not enjoy intimidating the smallfolk, or making people feel uncomfortable. But in this moment, his heart racing with a mixture of worry and frustration, he didn't care what people said. They were already speaking anyway, about Aerions cruelty to the puppeteer, and how a random hedge knight had laid hands upon him. The puppeteers name was Tanselle, a Dornish woman who was apparently quite skilled in her craft, and her defender was Ser Duncan, a knight trained by Ser Arlan of Pennytree.
Their crimes?
Tanselle had dared to depict a dragon being slain.
Ser Duncan flew to her defense after Aerion snapped Tanselles fingers in front of a packed tent.
As he honed in on Aerions quarters, Valarr's mind raced from one scenario to another. The smallfolk were not particularly fond of the Targaryens at the best of times, and for someone who was bringing them joy to be so viciously harmed by the blood of the Dragon, it could only result in further degradation of their opinion. Add onto that a knight taking it upon himself to show that the Targaryens could be so easily set upon and struck... the report had been that it had taken four men to hold Ser Duncan back. Impressive though that may be, it was not something they needed circulating beyond Ashford. The Crown must always be viewed as untouchable, insurmountable and beyond that, honorable.
Aerion had done more damage than he would be willing to acknowledge.
Upon reaching the door to Aerions chambers, Valarr threw it open with such vigour that it completed a full rotation, slamming against the stone wall. The guard placed outside hadn't attempted to stop him, whether out of acknowledgement of his station, or not wanting to get in the way of what was surely an incensed royal. Aerion was standing before a roaring fire, cropped platinum hair illuminated by the glow of the flames. His face was hidden from the Prince, back facing him, not even deigning to turn to greet him. Brow furrowing, Valarr stepped inside, grasping for the door and slamming it shut behind him with a resounding thump.
"Are you proud of yourself?" Even in anger, Valarr was softspoken, though his voice did shake with barely contained vexation.
Aerion still did not acknowledge him, staring into the blaze before him. This only served to frustrate Valarr more, his fists clenching at his sides as he stepped further into the room.
"A puppeteer? Seriously?" Valarr reached the center of the room. "You realize what you've done, don't you? What people will say about us thanks to your unfounded cruelty?"
"She thought herself capable of insulting the House of the Dragon without repercussion." Aerion finally spoke, glancing over his shoulder as he did, his eyes gleaming as they reflected against the fire. "An example had to be made."
"An example?" Valarr crossed the distance between them so quickly Aerion didn't have time to turn to face him fully, the Prince gripping his cousins shoulder and roughly completing the rotation for him. Valarr glared up at him, catching the amusement in Aerion's gaze. "She was an innocent and you brutalized her in front of the smallfolk."
"Innocent..." One of Aerions eyebrows rose marginally, a smirk playing on his lips. "I suppose that's a matter of perspective, hm?"
Valarr's grip tightened on the other mans shoulder, and Aerion made no attempt to stop it. Despite himself, despite his anger at Aerions stupidity, Valarr found himself being overcome by other emotions. He could see one of Aerion's teeth were chipped, bruising and other markings marring his usually carefully maintained features. Slowly, concern won out over frustration and his hold on Aerion's shoulder loosened, one of the other mans hand's darting upwards to keep it maintained when his own threatened to slip away. The silence shifted from tense to uncertain, and Valarr's stare broke away from Aerion's eyes, dipping to their hands where the taller mans thumb was gently brushing against the back of his hand in a infuriatingly calming motion.
"He could have killed you." Valarr muttered.
"He didn't." Aerion breathed, his other hand shifting to fall upon Valarrs hip. It tugged at him, and Valarr allowed himself to be pulled closer. "He couldn't."
Valarrs eyes shifted back to lock with Aerions, his gaze softening at the fondness in the other mans expression. The inferno within Valarrs chest almost was entirely diminished at this point. Aerion's forehead gently knocked against his own, settling there as a low hum droned from the white haired mans throat. Valarr wanted to pull away, wanted to berate him more intensely for his reckless stupidity, tell him about how much the display had harmed their families already degrading reputation. But instead, his gaze locked with Aerion's and the entire world slipped away until it was just them. It always was.
Valarr grasped for the back of Aerions neck, pulling him into a kiss that was far more tender than that they usually shared. Aerion commonly sought to dominate, yet this time he allowed Valarr to dictate the proceedings, the Prince opting to separate after a few seconds, though he did not draw away. His fingers found their way up to Aerions hair, tangling themselves in the longer strands down the back of his head. Aerion's hands meanwhile ran up and down his back, trailing in a motion that calmed him, as if to reassure him that he was fine and wasn't going anywhere. Valarr leaned up, their lips crashing against each other again in a desperate encore. Aerion pulled him against his body fully now, claiming what was his, fingers digging into his back so harshly that the future may see bruises there and Valarr let out a sudden gasp, a sound of contentment.
"I'm yours." Aerion murmured gently when their lips separated, forehead resting against Valarrs once more. "You're mine."
"From this day, until the end of my days." Valarr whispered back. They had said the vows before, but this time worry marred the affection in his response. He could feal tears beginning to well in his eyes as his mind began to consider the repercussions of Aerions actions. Ser Duncan could ask for a trial by combat, and since he was capable of holding back four guards, how would Aerion fare? "You can't leave me."
Aerion's brows furrowed slightly, his thumb rising to brush against Valarrs cheek as one of the tears overflowed.
"I wouldn't abandon you to this world."
A tiny smile broke through Valarrs worry and he wrapped his arms around Aerion, pressing his head hard against his chest. Aerion's hand immediately found its way to the back of his head, other hand continuing its dance across his back. His concerns, the logical proceedings of the world and what was to come, Valarr no longer wanted to think of them. All he cared about was that the man he loved more than anything else was here, now.
They were both safe.
And nothing, not even the cruel grasp of death itself nor the anxiety of the coming dawn, could tear them apart.