197 AC.

The sun had yet to rise, the chill of the morning barely beginning to dwindle off. It was quiet, for once, within the Red Keep, the halls left empty save for the night guards at their posts. A stillness had enveloped the castle, the quiet before the storm of the day.

Baelor had not felt so at ease in moons, feeling the soft weight of his wife against him as she slept. The sheets and furs offered warmth, but nothing could warm him quite like the fluttering in his chest whenever he looked upon her, sleep-weary eyes squinting in the darkness. She looked beautiful even as she slept, one cheek smushed against her silk pillowcase, and one delicate hand fisted into the fabric of his loose tunic even as she slumbered.

Baelor closed his eyes, his chest rising and falling with a steady breath. An arm was looped around her, firm and strong and steady, and he gently slid his wife closer. She stirred but did not wake. His lips found her forehead, soft and revered as he placed a kiss to her hairline and waited for sleep to take him again.

The pitter-patter of bare feet drew him from his hazy state.

They were quick, until they halted, hesitant, and then they began again. Baelor smiled to himself, but he did not open his eyes. He would feign sleep, holding his beloved woman close. The blankets shifted as a small hand gripped onto the edge of them, the fur on top sliding down his shoulder as it was tugged.

"Mama," a tiny, quiet voice came. "Mummy. Mama."

"Valarr," Baelor whispered then, blinking his eyes open. Those same eyes looked back at him from beside the bed - one lilac, one brown. His little boy, only three, gave a grin.

"Papa."

"Come," Baelor instructed, voice a gentle lull in the softened atmosphere of the bedchamber. He shifted, careful not to wake the woman next to him, and patted an empty spot by his side. "You must stay quiet. Your mother is trying to sleep."

"I will!" Valarr promised. Baelor quickly pressed a finger of his lips, a playful signal for the child to keep his voice down. The toddler looked bashful, realizing his mistake, and put a small hand over his own mouth. "Sorry..."

Baelor offered his hand, allowing Valarr to use his strength to climb up into bed with his mother and father. The boy nestled close to Baelor's side, shimmying underneath the warm blankets. It made his chest tighten, holding his little family close, and he used his free hand to tuck his son in. His hand gently brushed through his hair, thumb following the silver streak.

Baelor allowed himself to find comfort between his wife and his son, for there were no worries here. There were no rebellions or bastards that shared royal blood, there were no titles, no royal duties. There was only them, and that was more than enough. Here he was not a prince, but a husband and a father.