"You are the bane of my existence and the object of all my desires."
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The tale of the Prince Aegon Targaryen and his marriage to Princess Valeria Martell.
Aegon Targaryen FF
HOTD
18+
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The feast for the wedding was a dull affair-at least, by the standards to Valeria. Her captors had called it a celebration, yet she dubbed it as the start of her imprisonment in this foreign land she found herself in.
Her family-the Martells-made no journey to attend her wedding. And so, she sat at the table the entire feast in silence while watching her husband, Prince Aegon, ignore her and instead fondle and pinch at the servant that continuously passed him to refill his cups and smile at him.
She heard her name, but really she did not care to remember. For all she could think about was what happened after the feast.
The consummation was such an outdated tradition.
Back in Dorne, the newly weds did not bed each other until the first full moon in the first month of their marriage, where the gods would then bless them as they made love under the moon light. The woman would be prepared with a bath and scented oils, while the man waited for her and then, the act itself was done on a bed of the finest silks so that the woman could be comfortable enough as she prepared her womb for her husband's seed.
Valeria learned rather quickly that there would be no preparation or special moonlight to gaze upon them.
As right after the feast, she and her Prince husband were guided into his chambers and the doors shut on them both. That was it-it was so barbaric that Valeria was half-expected the King and his Council to bloody watch the act itself like they did back in the old days.
Still, as Valeria stood there in the Valyrian garbs that she had been adorned in, she kept herself on one side of the bed-refusing to move a muscle as her new tormentor stood across the other side. They were glaring at each other with such disdain and prejudice.
How was she expected to bed the man that forced her father to bend the knee?
Aegon sneered at the look she was giving him instead of undressing herself, before he rolled his eyes. His patience wearing paper-thin since the feast. "Oh just do it already, will you?" He gestured with his fingers. "Come here."
Valeria scowled. "No," She answered, and even with that single word her Dornish accent reigned thick.
"Ah, so you do speak the common tongue. I was beginning to think you were mute." He glared at her harder.
She would have scoffed, but she did not know him well enough to do such a thing. As far as she had heard and knew of him, he wasn't the most pleasant person.
She couldn't believe her father agreed to this marriage.
"You clearly do not want to touch me, nor I you. Allow us to keep our distance until we are both released from this blasted chamber," She said sternly.
