Jealousy is new to him. With seven kingdoms at his feet, his elders respect, his youngest admiration, wisdom for his age, kindness of a future king— he is the perfect prince.

He thought it'd been a fever. Blood boiling, no, chirping the second he had seen the way the gods had been cruel to give you to his drunken cousin. A muscle jumping in his jaw the entire ceremony and the followed feast. Mismatched eyes alike wildfire every time you smiled at the fool of your husband that was busy nursing wine to spare you a proper glare.

The loudly laughter of the room died as soon as your hopeful, adorable eyes found his. Delicate cheeks flushing a bright red before you force to dart your eyes aside. He saw it. Half a second or less, doesn't matter. May you be the only sin he makes before The Stranger takes him.

An interesting feeling amongst the desire to just crack slightly. To slip from his pristine and oh so perfect self just to pound at you. Dragon teeth baring before spitting fire.

It had been quick, considering you'd be soon torn apart. He couldn't have you wasting away in SumerHall while he pins for you at Dragonstone. While Daeron’s wobbly legs drag him to a pleasure house every night, Valarr’s firm steps leads him to your bed.

There you lay. A vision to drive men to war. Silk gown clinging to all the right places, hair cascading down the plush pillows, the thin moonlight seeping by the cracked windows.

"My princess." A feral growl bubbling from his chest, shutting the door behind him with a silent thud. Pulse jumping on his neck, finding himself above you in a second.

His kisses the perfect mix between adoration, need, gentleness— a possessiveness that stole the air from your lungs. Forehead pressing into yours, pupils blown wide. "I promise myself not to come to you tonight. It's wrong."

He's only half sorry. Chest pressing down against your own, relying in every little noise you make. "So, so wrong." He shifts slightly, nose brushing down your throat. "What would your husband think, huh? Seeing you so desperate for my touch instead of his."

Tongue darting out to lick, nibble, and kiss all the way down. Taking his place in between spread thighs, eyes up your face. He's not doing anything yet you're trembling. "A naughty princess begging for her husband's cousin mouth on her."