Chapter Text
It all started when Father married his own brother, not even half a moon after Mother died in the birthing bed.
Valarr just turned one and ten not that long ago, and Matarys was only four.
Valarr's own uncle, Maekar, was the last child of Grandsire and Grandmother; he was five and ten when he married Father, who was twice his age and twice as big.
Uncle Maekar was closer to Valarr's age rather than Father's, but Mother was dead, and Father was free to marry whomever he wished to, even if Grandsire objected.
The wedding was small, but Father was happy, and it was all that mattered.
Father's third son was born six moons after the wedding.
For the supposed premature babe, he seemed far healthier than Matarys, who was carried for nine moons.
Though the pregnancy itself was not kind to Uncle Maekar, he was bedbound because he was too weak after the birth, so much so that Father forbade him to train in the yard with Valarr.
The babe was named Daeron, after Grandsire. To placate him, it seemed. Valarr suspected that the babe was a girl, Father would name it Myriah.
Daeron was an ugly babe; he looked like a pruned fruit with his dirty blond hair.
"He's ugly," Valarr said when he visited the nursery with Father.
Instead of being angry, Father laughed heartily. "You looked the same when you were born."
Valarr doubted that. He was anything but ugly; people said he was the handsomer version of Father.
"How was Uncle?"
Father didn't reply to that one; instead, he kept rocking Daeron on his arms.
"Father?" Valarr pressed.
"He is well," Father said at last. "The maesters advised him to be bedbound for at least a year, but I say Maekar needed much more time than that,"
"Why, because some other lords might have taken a liking to Uncle?" Valarr asked, studying Father's face.
"Quite," Father smiled and put Daeron down in his cot.
It shouldn't come as a surprise to Valarr that Father lusted after his brother like that; Father had come to the training yard more often when Uncle was around, eyes gazing at Uncle's body like he wanted to eat him whole.
Valarr was not blind either to the gazes and touches and kisses of kin that Father gave Uncle whenever he thought no one was around; of how Uncle's flushed face and leaning body to the softness of lips traced on the temple.
Uncle was not the fairest, not even by Andals' and Targaryens' standards; sure, Uncle Maekar had a typical Targaryen look, but he had pox scars on his face and thin lips. Father still loved him so. It puzzled him. "Why do you love him so, Father?"
Father walked outside the nursery, and Valarr stayed two paces behind. The Kingsguards were ten paces behind to ensure no one would hear.
"One day, you would find someone you had to have no matter the consequences, Valarr," Father told him. His back was as straight as Valarr remembered. "You won't be able to breathe without them, and everything you do will lead back to them."
Father then stopped and looked at him. "All of my sons, you are the one who resembles me the most. You will get it given time."
Valarr knew Father meant more than their physical resemblance, but he could hardly see why it mattered.
Years passed, and Father had only one son with Uncle. Uncle was still sequestered in Father's quarters at Tower of Hand, and hardly left unless he took Daeron for a walk.
Valarr had grown, and he, too, finally took a wife.
Kiera was a charming girl, and her family had many soldiers at their disposal. Her dowry was enough to fill their coffers awhile.
Valarr didn't love her, but he didn't hate her either. She was agreeable enough, and Valarr did his duty.
Not long after their marriage, Kiera fell pregnant. Valarr thought having a babe in their marriage would make him feel something towards Kiera; it didn't. Even when she lost their babe, Valarr felt nothing.
Then, Uncle Maekar fell pregnant again when Valarr was twenty. Father had become protective of his brother-wife and would not let Uncle walk far.
The babe took longer than nine moons to be born, and Uncle was in labour for two whole days.
The sky was painted red when the babe first wailed throughout the Keep; the babe was tiny, pale and had a full head of silver-gold hair and amethyst eyes.
The babe was the most Targaryen-looking Valarr ever laid his eyes upon. Father and Uncle named the babe Aerion, and Valarr felt something stir in his heart.