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lucidfairies · 10 days ago

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— m'lady [part one]

introduction

synopsis: your sister was in need of something, anything to reel her in, and a handsome new knight was just the one for the job.

pairing: sister's!knight!sevika x queen!reader

warnings: forbidden/off limits, slow burn ish, extreme sexual tension, pet names, heavy pronoun use in the middle (she/her), reader masturbation but in a fade to black way, SO MUCH FLIRTING, eventual smut (see: parts 4, 6, probably more)

wc: 3.5k

a/n: once again I must honor my amazing @sevsgiirl !!!!!! tossing around ideas with them is like therapy. she's the best ever so everyone go show them love!!!

“Sarah,” you said softly, with a gentle rasp at her door, “may I come in?” When you heard her ‘yes’ through the wood, you pushed the heavy material open with Sevika and the other knights at your toes. You had mentally prepared for this moment, expecting lots of glares and snotty comments, and to no surprise, that was exactly what you got. "Sarah, this is Steb, Loris, and Sevika. You have proven that this is the step we need to take to get you into place, and I’m acting on it. I expect respect.”

“All of you can see yourselves out.” She responded, not looking up from her spot at her desk. She was writing something, most likely a letter to another neighboring kingdom. “They’re not staying.” She followed up when the group didn’t leave.

“I don’t remember when you were appointed Queen.” You quipped. She let out a harsh breath and turned towards the four of you. “They will each have an eight hour shift, meaning you will have a knight on duty all day, every single day. It doesn’t have to remain this way if you can prove that you’ve gotten your life together, but you’re nowhere near that point.”

“This isn’t fair,” she gritted out, teeth clenched and jaw locked in anger.

“Life isn’t fair. Loris is your starting knight, as of ten minutes ago. You are the princess of Piltover, and I expect you to start acting like it.” With that, you, the knights, and Elora left the room, Loris taking station outside the door. “The schedule is posted on a script in the gym. While one of you is posted at her door, one of you will be training, and the other will be off the clock.” You spoke to Steb and Sevika as you walked throughout the halls. You had already given the three a formal tour, but you took them back to the training grounds regardless to present the schedule. “Knights will go in the order of Loris, Steb, Sevika, and you’ll go from knighthood to training. That’s all, and you’re free to go to your stations.”

You didn’t wait for a response from either of them, instead turning on your heel and walking back towards your writing chambers with Elora. You couldn’t help but let your mind wander to the way Sevika’s arms looked in her uniform, or the way she glanced over at you while you spoke.

Sevika would never tell you to your face that you were right. It had only been three weeks, and sometimes she wondered if it was three weeks too many, remembering her life before taking this godforsaken job. Chasing Sarah around was like trying to grab a bar of soap with wet hands - she was quick to slip away, and hard to hold onto when she was there. Trying to wrangle her in was a full time job in and of itself, let alone the addition of security, training, sleeping, and eating. She'd been working double, covering for the other guards as they weren't nearly as experienced as she was. And for you, it was almost torture.

You saw the woman everywhere, especially when she was off duty. It was like she followed you around, and showed up everywhere just to draw your attention away from the things that needed it. She would be in the same hallway as you, walking in the same direction, and happen to strike up a conversation that left you blushing. She was in the kitchen when you wanted a snack, making the whole room laugh, and in the stables helping the coachmen when you wanted a ride. She watched you mount and caught your eye as the horse carried you out of the stable. Everywhere you went, she was.

Though your mind argued, it wasn’t difficult to find yourself attracted to Sevika. Her high cheekbones, dark eyes, wide lips. It all drew you in. But nothing in the world could compel you to act on the attraction, because it was nothing more than that. But, you did enjoy the sight of the curve of muscle in her arm, and the way the material of her pants fit around her thighs.

However, nothing beat the way she looked in uniform.

“Sarah, this is all wrong,” you huffed angrily, watching your younger sister stumble and trip over her own feet as she attempted to ballroom dance with her partner. The boy wasn’t particularly fantastic either, but with a girl in stilettos stepping on your feet and on her own dress, you couldn’t imagine it was that easy to look good. “The ball is around the corner and you’re making your official debut. Whatever this is, it needs to be fixed by the next time I see you.”

It was not on your doc for today to sit through Sarah’s etiquette lessons. She had done them biweekly since she could walk, and there was no reason she needed a chaperone now. But, because you had put so much time and effort into planning this ball, Elora insisted that you saw the progress she was making. It was important that she wooed the crowd, seeing as she was your successor.

And, well, you used the word “progress” lightly.

Sarah seethed, stomping like a child having a tantrum. “If you’re so sure that I’m doing it wrong, why don’t you do it? Since apparently my sister is the best ballroom dancer on earth, let’s all watch her!” She was being sarcastic, and gestured around the room. The few people that were in there ducked their heads, as if not to embarrass her or you. Well, aside from Sevika. She was looking down and laughing, and you glared at her with daggers in your eyes. “Oh and look, dick rider Sevika is laughing too, why don’t you dance together? Match made in heaven, huh?” You shot up.

“Sarah, reign it in,” you spoke harshly, grabbing her forearm in a tight grip as she flailed. “I will show you how to do it once. After that I expect you to figure out how to do it.” You marched onto the ball floor, looking over at the boy Sarah was dancing with a grimacing.

Before you could join him in a dance, there was a tap at your shoulder. You spun around quickly, and you were immediately met with Sevika. She was smirking as she bowed before you, reaching out to take your hand. “May I?” You looked over at Sarah who encouraged you to take her hand, and to your dismay, you did.

Her hand was warm around yours as you took it, and you could feel each groove of her palm beneath your soft fingers. She tightened her grip around you as she stood, mechanical arm slipping around your waist. You were irrationally tense, so much so that it was almost difficult for you to pull your arm up and drape it over her shoulder.

Subtly, she pulled your body against her own as the music began. Chest to chest, her mouth fell just above your ear, and you listened to her breathing pick up. You spun delicately, trying your hardest to focus on your footing. This wasn't the time to embarrass yourself, especially after all the talk you made earlier.

“A bit tense, aren't we, m'lady?” She whispered, lips grazing the shell of your ear as her head cocked to the side ever so slightly. Blush found your cheeks swiftly, and you were sure you got even more tense. “Relax, you're doing great.” You pushed her back ever so slightly, just enough to look at her.

“Cut it out,” you whispered through gritted teeth. The song sped up, and she quickly spun you out of her arms, pulling you back in so that her thick, muscled arm was wrapped around you and her mech hand was tight around your hip. Your back was pressed to her front, the strong muscle gracing you as her heart pounded against you.

“Cut what out?” she chuckled deeply. “For someone who insisted they were so good at dancing, I have to say you're very tight, my queen.” You forgot all of your steps as your brain replayed Sevika insisting that you were tight. “You're doing so good, sweetheart. Need you to breathe.” A chuckle chased her words.

The song ended and you pushed away from her, storming out of the room without even so much as glancing back. Elora was outside, and watched you as you slammed your back against the wall and practically panted. You placed a hand over your heart and a hand on the wall, doing what you could to find your breath again.

“My queen, are you okay? Did something happen?” Elora rushed to you. “Shall I ring the doctor?” You shook your head, unable to meet her eyes. It felt almost sinful, what you just allowed yourself to indulge in. Disgusting, even.

“No, no. I'm going to take the rest of the day for myself. I'll see you at dinner.” You made your way back to your chambers with haste, slamming the door behind you and falling onto your bed. You grabbed one of the numerous pillows and pulled it to your chest as you balled yourself up, screaming into it as your body relived the moments over and over again.

“I'm sorry about that,” Sarah said to Sevika, who was looking at the door as if her gaze would make you reappear. “She's not normally so… jumpy, but I guess you have that effect on her. I also don't think that she has danced with someone since her own etiquette lessons. You didn't do anything wrong.” Sarah laughed to herself and Sevika turned to face her.

“She's been courted, no? Wouldn't that give her a reason to dance?” Sarah's laughs thickened, leaving Sevika to confusion. Sevika scowled, rolling her eyes. “You can't just start a conversation and then laugh at me, princess.”

“I can do as I please,” she shrugged, “however, since you're so kind, I've found it in my heart to tell you that my sister doesn't let suitors court her. To my knowledge, no man or woman has laid hands on her since our father died. She's a prize, in the world of royalty. Kingdom after kingdom have sent suitors, and they all get rejected at the door.” Sevika spent a moment in silence, her mind putting together pieces that were previously lacking.

This was why the queen had no interest in her faux advances. Not only was she unaware of flirting, but she also refused to be courted. This opened something in Sevika, and she was determined to find out why you didn't allow for suitors.

“I see,” Sevika nodded, pensive. “What does she do when the kingdom hosts balls? It’s all she’s been talking about for weeks.” Sarah sighed, as if this topic was strenuous.

“She keeps herself busy. Makes conversation with heads of houses and other leaders. If, by some miracle, a list to dance develops, she sees herself out before she’s had an opportunity to dance with them. As I said, she doesn’t allow herself to be courted, and I doubt she ever will. She’ll die alone, and a virgin.” Sevika chuckled, imagining you at the royal ball approaching, turning down kingdom princes and princesses.

“Nobody with a face like hers dies alone, or a virgin.” Sevika glanced down at her hands, the same hands that held you against her just minutes ago. She didn’t like you, not romantically at least. You weren’t exactly kind to her, and she had been sleeping with a girl at the brothel for several weeks now. She just enjoyed the way it felt to have a body pressed against her own.

However -

The thought of courting you did wander through her mind. Jumping through hoops to impress you, prove to you that, contrary to your belief, she could handle a woman like you. Do anything you wanted, protect you with her life. In an ideal world, if she were to wind up with you, she would be the Queen’s Guard, and be with you all of the time. In true Sevika fashion, Sarah’s comment regarding your purity status had her mind spinning, but she pushed those thoughts away.

But it wasn’t like that, and it couldn’t be. It was easy to tell that you were going out of your way to avoid finding a suitor, and she was your sister’s knight. Therefore, all factors decimated that idea. And, of course, she doesn’t like you.

It took you the rest of the day to build up the confidence to apologize to Sevika. You paced your room intermittently (in between freaking out), planning how you would approach her and what you would say. Her training shift ended after dinner, and you decided to seek her out in the knights’ common room since she wouldn’t be busy. Though, the ‘what to say’ part was still up for discussion in your mind.

Dinner came and went, and you decided that dwelling on what to say wasn’t going to get you anywhere. Unfortunately, it would have to be an in-the-moment thing, or else the moment would pass, and you wouldn’t be able to apologize to her, and that was far worse than embarrassing yourself in front of her once (or twice, if you included every single interaction that happened between the both of you today).

Truth be told, you had never seen the knights’ common rooms. Your knight had no reason to bring you down here, and you had no reason to be driven to the rooms. There were several of them, organized into what knights guarded who. They were like burrows; your knights had a common room and sleeping areas, the princess’ knights had a common room and sleeping area, the grounds’ knights, etcetera.

The room was dim, making the knock upon Sevika’s chamber door even more intimidating. It was just you, insisting that your knight and Elora remain upstairs in the writing room. This needed to be you and her, so that she was sure you meant it.

There was a quick, “come in!” and you pushed the door open, closing it behind you before you had a chance to look up. When you did, the few words you had decided on died in your throat. Sevika was standing before you, back toward you, and you got a front row seat as she pulled her shirt over her head by the collar in one swift motion. Underneath she bared nothing but binding wrap, a usual for female knights.

She tossed the shirt to the side and turned to face you, face dropping into a toothy grin. Her tooth gap met your view, and you couldn’t help but marvel at how perfectly it fit her face. “My queen,” she said, her grin transforming to a smirk at the look on your face.

Your eyes were shot, trying to find a spot to look that was anything other than her, or her shirt on the ground. Your cheeks were most definitely redder than they had ever been, and you felt as if you were glowing with how warm they were. But, what intrigued Sevika the most was the part in your lips, and the way your chest rose and fell with belligerent haste. You were thinking of her and she could tell.

She allowed herself to tip against a poster of her bed, arms crossing over her chest. “Lucky you caught me, I was about to take off my arm,” she joked. “What can I do for you?” It took you a moment longer than it should’ve for your brain to click back into place.

“I, um,” you swallowed harshly. “I can come back another time if you’re busy,” your hands were sweating mercilessly. “Or if you want to take off your arm.” She snorted, laughing with a shake of her head.

“Now’s fine, pretty.” She was most definitely Pavlov-ing you somehow, with all of these little names, and the way she was saying them. The way she said it, made it feel like it was yours - there was no way to move on from that, or come back from the way it made you feel. Nobody else could call you pretty now that she had, or refer to you as their lady now that she had.

“Okay, well, I w-wanted to apologize for earlier. I shouldn’t have rushed out like that. I had to attend to- to some business.” She pushed off of the wall and took a few steps closer to you, making you step back until your back was pressed against the door.

“Business, of course,” she said with a smile. “Your sister says that that was the first time you’ve danced since your own lessons. I must say, you did a fantastic job, sweetheart.” You briefly scowled at the idea of Sarah spreading your private information to someone that was basically a stranger to you.

That idea made this entire thing worse. This woman was essentially a stranger, and yet her words and actions were taking an affect on you in a way that nobody else's ever had. No suitor, no man from the street, no woman at the brothel. And you hardly knew her. Your mother would have an aneurysm if she were here to see this.

“You’re not too bad yourself.” You said, weakly. She was so close now. You could practically reach out and stroke her cheek if you wanted to. But that would be terrible, gross even. All of this was terrible. You could be planning for the ball, and instead you were here, allowing this to happen. Indulging in it.

“Well my queen, if you don’t need anything else, then you should allow me to walk you to your chambers,” she reached around you, large body caging you in. “A pretty thing like you needs her beauty sleep.” You were surely suffocating between the door and her body. You looked up at her, and driven by something in your mind, you lifted up on your toes and-

The door clicked open, and shifted behind you. With deep embarrassment, you slipped through the cage of her arms and out into the common space, cool air hitting you and bringing your facial temperature down, thank god. The both of you made it back to your quarters quickly and silently, seeing as you were far too embarrassed to hold a conversation.

“If you find yourself without someone to dance with at your fancy little ball, you can always come and find me, m’lady. Sweet dreams.” She winked and strode off, making your head absolutely spiral.

There were things that needed to be done. The education budget needed to be finalized, and the caterers for the ball needed an official date. Not to mention you had been requested to a new elementary school’s opening, and asked to read a book.

But right now, right now. All that mattered was the way your skin burned where Sevika touched it hours ago, and the way her words felt as they were poured over you, like she wanted you. Like you were some sort of prize, exactly where she wanted you. No matter how terrible it was, no matter how much needed to be done, all that mattered right now was Sevika.

Laying back on your bed as your mind wandered miles, you couldn’t help but run your fingertips along your skin, grazing your nipple over your night dress. It was frustration, really. You would never get off to the thought of a stranger, especially someone on your staff, that was so close to you and your family. You had to wonder, though, what the cool metal of mech fingers would feel like against the burning skin of your nipple, or what her mouth would feel like replacing it.

And, well, the thoughts didn’t halt when your fingers slipped into your underwear, or when you came, messy and sinful all over your hand.

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queers-gambit · 2 years ago

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Daddy Takes Care

prompt: ( requested ) in comparison, your first pregnancy was a cakewalk. this time around? not so much. good thing Daemon's there to help where he can.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!reader -> no specified House or race

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 6.4k+

warnings: cursing, daughter named Visenya, angst 'cause pregnancy isn't all sunshine and glow and rainbows, hurt and comfort 'cause happy (but abrupt) ending, author has never been pregnant so please forgive inaccuracies, not edited.

"My Prince! My Prince! Prince Daemon!"

Daemon purposefully ignored the errand-boy, hoisting his daughter higher on his hip. "Easy, little dragon," he spoke in High Valyrian, "Caraxes is not known for his patience."

Visenya giggled, "Caraxes likes me, Daddy."

The dragon rumbled as if in agreement, blinking his eye as Visenya laid her head on his snout; half-way out of Daemon's arms, but still maintaining a vice grip. "My Prince, please," the servant pleaded, "i-it is your wife."

Daemon whipped around, Visenya being rightened in his arms when her father glared at the young man who panted from his sprinting. "What?" Daemon demanded.

"Sh-She is with the Maesters now, my Prince, and your brother, His Grace, and the Queen Alicent, too, The baby started - "

But the lad gasped when Caraxes gave a harrowing growl as Daemon charged forward; Visenya in his arms as his dragon's breath seemingly propelled his stride forward. Visenya whimpered when Caraxes stalked out of the Dragon Pit with Daemon, only stopping when he could go no further; but he thundered his displeasure and suspicion in a grumble that made the little girl wince into Daemon's chest. "It's okay, love," Daemon told her gently in their Mothers Tongue, approaching the Royal wheelhouse they used when traveling with Visenya. He spoke softly, "We're going to see Mummy, Caraxes is just worried."

"What's wrong with Mummy?" Visenya asked in the Common Speech when they boarded.

"Go! Do not stop until we get to the Keep!" Daemon barked at the coachmen before settling his daughter down. He saw the big tears swelling in his daughter's eyes and sighed, telling her softly, "I am sorry, my sweet dragon. Daddy doesn't know what's wrong with Mummy, that scares Daddy sometimes, and when Daddy's scared, he gets a little mean."

"That's okay, Daddy," she nodded at him, looking sheepish. "I get scared, too."

"It's okay to be afraid, fear is natural," Daemon told her softly, "but it's important we do not let it define us."

Her little legs swung, "Like Lord Larys."

Daemon snickered, "Oh, you naughty girl, I told you not to repeat that."

She grinned, looking far too innocent to be Daemon's spawn. "Mummy says we should be nice to Lord Larys."

"She does?"

"Mhm," Visenya nodded, "she said 'cause he knows too much."

His head cocked, "Little Dragon, has Lord Larys ever approached Mummy? Spoken to her?"

"He tries," Visenya nodded, "but Mummy walks away, she doesn't like him." The little girl lowered her voice, telling Daemon a secret, "Mummy said his breath smells like poo."

Daemon smirked, whispering back, "I know."

When they arrived at the Red Keep, the wheelhouse was barely slowed before Daemon was scooping Visenya into his arms and getting ready to disembark. When they stopped, he didn't wait for anyone to open his doors, announce his name; he just surged out, charging for where he knew the Maester's chambers were.

However, Otto Hightower was waiting for him in the foyer, greeting, "Prince Daemon, Princess Visenya."

"Hi," Visenya waved, holding onto her father's neck shyly.

"Where is she? Where's my wife?" Daemon demanded.

"Resting in your chambers, my Prince," Otto answered, not being offended when Daemon turned heel to change direction and left him in the dust.

Nobody intercepted Daemon, but it wasn't like any tried. He didn't look at anyone, they never met his eyes; but most took note of the way he all but galloped to get to his chambers. When the shoulder that wasn't holding his daughter barged through the door, he didn't slow, just demanded, "What is this? What has happened?"

"Daemon," Viserys sighed in reprimand.

"What is the matter?" He charged forward to reach the bed. "Give Daddy a second with Mummy," he told his daughter in Valyrian as he set the little girl down and took the spot beside you instantly. You had a knowing smirk on your lips, hand taken by both of his, not even blinking when he barked, "Well? What has happened!?"

"When you take a breath, we will tell you," You told him softly, squeezing his hand and smiling with closed lips. "The Maester's have only just left, you did not miss much."

He shook his head, "I should've been here none the less."

"And deprive our little dragon rider the opportunity to bond with her favorite mate?" You teased, looking to Visenya and opening your arm (after pulling yours from Daemon's clutches), "C'mere, little one. Come to Mummy."

She was careful and slow in her movements, curling up beside you; shimmying under the covers to cuddle into your side. She pet your belly, "Does it hurt?"

"No, not right now," you answered honestly, never wanting to lie to her. It would do no good in the long run, being truthful and honest were traits you can teach (not always) and you and Daemon took it very seriously.

This was a cruel world, why sugarcoat it? So your daughter would depend on some man - some man like Larys Strong? Nope. Not on your watches. She'd be the belle of the ball with the meanest right hook in the Seven Kingdoms.

"Daemon," Viserys spoke with a calm tone, earning the attention of the room, "you must know, these sort of things can happen at anytime."

"Is it The Curse? I-Is it The Curse? Does it prevail?" He asked in desperation, looking distraught.

"No," you assured, taking your only free hand to lay one of his on your swollen belly.

"No...? No?" He repeated, then scoffed, "So, why is it I was - "

"False labor," Alicent cut him off, making his jaw steel as he glared at her. "It can occur, the mind tricks the body into thinking and reacting that it's time to deliver the babe."

"But it's too soon," he pointed out, "she's still, what? Two, maybe three months left?"

"It can happen," Alicent nodded.

He frowned, glancing at his brother, then to you. "I was with the Queen when I got this terrible pain," you explained to Daemon. "There was fluid and some blood under my skirt, we thought it couldn't be right, so, she brought me to the Maesters and sent for you."

Daemon looked vaguely surprised, leaning down to press his lips to your belly. With a sigh, his forehead rested on your bump, lifting to peck another kiss, then righten his spine, asking, "And now?"

"All was clear, I was brought back here, and your brother did not wish to leave me alone - but nothing else was able to be said before you arrived," you chuckled, caressing his cheek.

"Thank you," he told Viserys, sniffling as his eyes lifted to Alicent, "both of you, truly, thank you."

"We are family," Viserys assured, "we would not want to be elsewhere."

"There's a whole Realm to - "

"Sometimes, politics can wait and family cannot," the King spoke wisely. "We are simply relieved the Lady is feeling better and all is well. The babe will stay in her womb until the end, should she remain in bed."

"Oh, Gods, Viserys," you groaned, "we agreed not to tell him that!"

"You agreed, I did not," he shot back at you.

"What do you mean, brother?"

The King answered, "She is to remain in bed until the end of her term - with natural limitations."

"Which means?"

"She may move around the room, but not much farther; she may use the privy, keep her blood circulating, but she is to remain down for most of the time as it will help keep the babe in place."

He nodded rapidly, "Of course."

"We'll let you rest," Alicent told you both softly. "I'm sure you want time with your family."

"Actually," you sighed, "might I ask for one more favor?"

"Anything, name it," Viserys agreed.

"Take Visenya for an hour? Daemon and I need to speak privately."

"Of course," Alicent nodded, stepping up to the bed. She waited as you and Daemon promised Visenya you'd be with her soon, that you needed an adult conversation, and after giving you both a kiss on the cheek, she marched off the bed to take Alicent's hand. Viserys hobbled out after them, and when the doors shut, Daemon deflated.

"Oh, Seven fucking Hells," he muttered in a muffle against your belly. He let your hands rake into his long strands of hair, pulling any knots, just soothing him with the scrape of your nails. "I was so worried," he admitted quietly, "I just - I did not think. I have feared this possibility so much, I think I tricked myself into thinking it was reality."

"What's that, my love?"

"The Curse... The Targaryen Curse."

"Daemon - "

"We were so lucky with Visenya," his tearful eyes lifted to meet yours, "and half of the pregnancy was wasted on our worry that something would go wrong. I might've created this reality."

"You did nothing," you promised. "Neither of us caused this, it's just what happens."

"But you've suffered for months," he whispered, eyes reddening by the second. "You had endless nausea, you threw up daily, my love, you developed night terrors, and you cannot say it was anything but ideal."

"Perhaps not ideal, but so perfectly us," you answered, watching him stand with a frown. "Daemon - where are you - "

"I only mean to change," he promised, already shedding his clothing and boots and weapons belt. When he joined you in bed again, he laid off your legs but beside them, head on your belly to hold and letting your hands rake through his platinum white locks again. It was quiet for minutes longer, just enjoying the other, but he whispered, "I should've been here."

"We did not know."

"Still," he frowned, kissing your bump tenderly, whispering, "I'm so sorry, I wasn't here, but do not take it out on Mummy. She's so brave," another kiss, "so very brave to take the time and give you the most perfect place to live for now. We can't take it out on her. Not Mummy, anyone else, but not Mummy."

You felt yourself dozing off, humming in contentment when Daemon took note and started a conversation with the babe - just simply detailing his day. He said there was soon to be another clutch of dragon eggs and their sister would choose the most perfect egg for them; being all Visenya's spoken of for weeks. He told the babe how excited they all were to meet them, but when he noticed you were asleep, he hated himself for getting out of bed.

It was only to pull a dressing robe on and locate his daughter; being easy as she was in Alicent's arms two halls over - both admiring the tapestries. "Daddy said this was a big fight," Visenya was heard, pointing at the drape.

"He's right," Alicent nodded, "this depicts Aegon's Conquest."

"Big dragons," she sighed dreamily, looking at the stitching. "That's Balerion, Vhagar, and Meraxes. Cousin Laena rides Vhagar now."

"Very good, sweetheart," Alicent praised.

"My Queen," Daemon called, approaching almost stiffly.

"Daddy!"

"C'mere," he grunted, accepting his daughter as she lunged for his embrace. "Thank you," he told Alicent.

"Is everything all right?"

"She's resting," Daemon nodded, trying to hide his fear from his voice but Alicent saw it in his eyes.

"The Maester's know how to help, my Prince," she assured softly. "She might fight against the limitations, but it's for everyone's health. She'll be okay, Daemon," her hand reached out to gently touch his forearm, "her body just needs time to adjust."

With her words thrumming in his mind, Daemon spent the next several weeks at your bedside. He was everything and more: he got you water, tea, anything to eat; always making sure you ate even a little SOMETHING three times a day. He made sure you took your medicine, wiped your flushed skin with cold cloths, braided your hair to keep it off your flesh. He read to you, rubbed your ankles and feet to help any circulation of clots, held your trembling form when you threw up. Daemon remained strong where you felt weak, doing whatever he could to assure you that your predicament wasn't a burden to him.

"You're not listening!"

"All I do is listen!"

"Daemon!" You snapped, "For weeks now, you've been at my every beck and call - catering to my whims. You are not canceling flying with Visenya, she'll be crushed."

"But you're closer to your birthing," He pointed out sharply.

"And I have not moved from this bed in days," you snapped back. "I will endure another day of this if it means you go take Caraxes out, I hear he's been a right menace."

Daemon shook his head, but something in his posture fell from defense. It made you sit up a little and beckon to him, his hand reaching for yours as he dropped to the place beside you; leaning against your mountain of pillows. "I do not know how to do this," he whispered, leaning his head to the crook of your neck in a vulnerable show of emotion. "And I know we are learning together, but I feel pulled apart - that I will disappoint one of you while catering to the other."

"My sweet husband," you whispered against the crown of his head. "You worry for nought."

"I worry for all," he whispered. "Visenya needs me, Viserys needs me, Caraxes needs me, the bloody White Cloaks need me, you need me - "

"Do not stress yourself further about this," you insisted. "Viserys has other advisors. Visenya has her aunts, uncles, cousins, anyone she could play with. Caraxes does need you, yes," you chuckled, "but he's also violently independent so I would not worry about him. And I am under the care of the Maesters, so I'd argue only the White Cloaks need you - you are their Lord Commander, after all."

"No," he refused, "I am a husband and father first, brother second, Prince of the City third, and Lord Commander fourth. I will be where I am needed, I just do not have enough hours in the day to do it all."

"You do not need to do it all," you whispered.

"You all need me."

"Visenya and I, yes," you agreed, "your job is important, too... Fuck the rest. 'S just noise."

He chuckled, you felt the pull of his lips on your neck. He hummed into your flesh, licking gently before pulling back to mutter, "I wish you could come with us."

"I do, too," you smiled softly. "But I'll be right here for you both to come back to - tell me all about it."

Daemon chuckled, "Surely."

Speak of the Devil, and He will appear.

"MUMMY!"

"Vizzy!" You half-scolded, laughing when the door burst open to reveal your daughter in her dragon-riding gear. Not a moment later, your usual handmaid, Carlee, appeared out of breath, sighing with relief when she located Visenya. "I'm so sorry, Carlee, she's just like her father and avoids all authority," you laughed when the little girl climbed onto her father's lap.

"No, I apologize, Lady," Carlee panted, "I-I tried - but she - she's very fast."

"I've got her," Daemon dismissed stiffly, your glare doing nothing to him.

"Thank you, Carlee, we've got it from here," you amended to the kind, portly woman with greying red hair. She bowed out as you reached over to tickle Visenya, "And you, my little monster! Didn't I tell you to stop giving the nice ladies a hard time. Hmm? Yes?"

She laughed happily, squirming in Daemon's arms. He 'saved' her by snuggling his nose in her neck; the squealing continuing as she shouted, "He's tickling me, Mummy! Mummy! Mummy! Help me, Mummy!"

"Mummy can't help you," Daemon playfully growl, gnawing into her neck as she flailed in his grip.

"Daddy! Stop it!"

He sighed dramatically, "Oh, I suppose I could... If a certain princess promises to behave from now on."

"Of course, Daddy, it's riding day!" She exclaimed, settling more in his lap now that he stopped tickling her. Because it wasn't often that Daemon took her riding, she was usually always on her best behavior to ensure her favorite day actually occurred - but that didn't mean it was an exact science.

"Visenya, be good for Daddy, yes?" You directed, puckering your lips for her. She pecked them quickly, promising to be good, and then rushing away when Daemon told her to go get her gloves and boots. When alone again, he looked at you almost sadly.

"One day, we'll fly as a family," he promised, forehead to your own. "Do you need anything, love?"

"I'm good, thank you, though," you whispered. Then, your hands caressed your belly, sighing, "Not long now, huh?"

"It's both the longest and shortest time of my life," he laughed lightly. "But soon, we'll pray for the quiet of your womb again."

You laughed, bringing him in for a kiss. He reciprocated before you pulled back, insisting, "Go, before she burns the Keep down. You know Caraxes would do it, too, that beastie would do anything she says."

"So would we," he winced.

"We might wanna work on that..."

"In time," he teased, kissing you again. "Stay put."

"Yes, sir." He gave you a look, making you amend, "Yes, Daddy."

He chuckled, kissed you a final time, and then rose. Just as he was exiting the door, you heard him yelp your daughters name before a small bang - making you think Visenya had run full sprint at him and knocked him back a step or two.

Another few days dragged by. You were agitated, you were stir crazy, you were on the shortest fuse known to man. Visenya liked reading to you, working on her writing skills with you in bed; she even got to practice her hair braiding skills. When you snapped at servants and maids, Visenya was always chiding, "Mummy, that's mean."

She kept you level-headed.

Daemon was a wreck, however.

He was only one person and the fact that he needed to be several was far too stressful than he was ever willing to admit. "Daemon, my love," you called sternly, "stop your pacing and come here. Lay with me, please."

"I do not get that luxury - "

"It is not a luxury to nurture your seed in my body," you deflected. "Now, come here. Now."

Daemon glared, "Do not think you command me, woman."

"The vows we took certainly think I do. Armor off, boots off, hair down, get the fuck over here - now, Daemon."

He sighed and grumbled, grunting as he did what you told but made it known he wasn't happy about it. When he was dressed in nothing but linen trousers, he laid beside you. "Now what?" He snapped.

"Now hold your wife and child and just fucking breathe," you shot back, readjusting so you cuddled into him. "You reek tonight."

"Your list of demands did not include bathing, excuse me, Princess," he sneered in a condescending tone.

"Daemon, I just want you to take a pause," you bit. "You've been runnin' 'round with your head chopped off since finding out about this... This complication."

"I have much to do."

"I know, and that is why it's important to just slow down and simply breathe. Please, just breathe with me, Daemon, I need us both to be as okay as we can be for when this babe finally comes."

"There's no time - "

"We make our time,' you insisted. "Please, just pause."

He did, Daemon actually paused to just take a deep breath. After one, he took another... Then another, and another until he was doing it with ease and confidence. "I'm sorry," he whispered against your forehead, bringing you in closer. "I do not mean to take it out on you, pet, I am just... Well, you know."

"I know you're worried," you sighed. "Which is why we need this. Tell me of your day, today?"

Daemon didn't want to at first, but then relented and started on a snowball tangent that explained his foul mood. You listened, ear pressed to his pectoral; hands tracing absent patterns on the contours of his abdomen. Daemon usually tried his best to restrain himself with you, but you actively encouraged him and the more he talked, the more words that spewed from his mouth in a messy jumble. One arm remained wrapped around you, keeping you close, and his free one moved about in exaggeration.

"And to top the day off, you know what the bloody Septa told me? The one Alicent insisted was worth utilizing?"

"Septa Amelia?"

"Whatever," he huffed.

"What'd she say to you, my Prince?"

He sighed at the endearing tone you used for his title, knowing it wasn't a reference to his real station but instead, a pet name you had for him. Daemon sighed, "That Visenya might need shipped off to Dorne to attend that grueling, military school."

"She's only just turned five - "

"I am aware," Daemon cut you off. "I cursed at her before taking Visenya."

"Good, then I shall know who to yell at, too," your voice hardened. "Why do they complain about her so? 'S all I bloody hear, how our daughter's wild and untamed - saying we are unfit parents by the looks of her."

"She's fire in her blood because she is the Dragon's Seed, just as this one is, too," His hand laid over your belly. "And yet, I cannot understand why others voice their opinions on our family, which they are not entitled to an opinion on. Visenya grows within the Red Keep, she is not some wild animal, but perhaps, she lacks stimuli."

"How could we remedy that?"

"A tutor... Or a few, perhaps. From across the Narrow Sea," he told you, already sounding like he wasn't as angry as before. "Find us proper tutors who will take her on as a student to guide her where we cannot - and where others give up. What kind of a man would I be to ignore what someone blatantly needs that I can easily provide?"

You offered a small smirk, taking a fond note, "This isn't just 'someone', Daemon, you speak of our daughter. You're so good at this, you know... Taking care of us. Daddy takes care."

He tightened his hold, "I always will, my sweet."

It was quiet again, your stomach churning with discomfort; questioning, "Though I am wondering what she did today to prompt such a comment?"

He scoffed, "So, she set fire to some curtains, who bloody cares - "

You gasped shrilly as you sat bolt upright, "Visenya did what!?"

"No, hey, no," he reached for you, "no stress, no - "

But you were hobbling out of the bed before he could stop you, grumbling the entire time; yet the moment your feet hit the floor, you paused to heave for breath, stood, and felt the trickle of fluids from between your legs. "What?" You gasped, realizing what just happened, begging, "What? No, no, no, no, not now, little one, please, stay in there!"

Daemon vaulted himself over the bed and was at your side in an instant, guiding you to sit once more and promising, "I will get the Maesters. Just ease yourself, no stress, no worries, I'll get help - I'll get the Maester's." He meant to move away.

"No," you insisted, reaching for his tunic's collar to grip, yank, and hold him close, "I need you with me. We all do, please, do not leave me to do this life alone. D-Daemon, please, I'm so scared, do not leave me, I can't do this without you."

"I'm not going anywhere," he promised, taking your hand to hold, "but I need to get you help. Please, my love, you need the help."

You whimpered and got back on the bed by yourself as Daemon raced for the chamber door. He only took half a step, then shouted, "YOU! HEY, YOU! GET THE BLOODY MAESTERS! NOW! YOUR PRINCE DEMANDS IT!"

Ignoring whatever else he shouted, you got comfortable as the cramps began to twist in your lower gut - shooting pains down your legs, up your back, even tingling into your fingers. Sweat took hold of you like a bad fever, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew something couldn't be completely right. This sensation was strange, it wasn't at all a feeling you had when pregnant with Visenya.

Hours drug by as if sap dripping from a tree.

Your pain increased; sweating, grunting, moaning, groaning with displeasure. Daemon was stoic and quiet, just watching you writhe in pain as his heart cemented in his chest to sink into his feet and anchor him there. Visenya wasn't anything like this; he'd been present for that birth, too, and remember thinking how easy it appeared since the baby practically fell out of you.

This was much different.

"My Prince," the Maester approached him with a deep frown, "a word?"

"What?" He snapped, watching the Maester step to the side. Daemon sighed and followed, glaring, arms crossing as he demanded, "What is it?"

"My Prince, the babe will not come. I do not wish to beat around this bush, so I will tell you plainly. Sometimes, when the fetus is in a compromising position, a decision must be made: either the babe is cut from the womb and it survives or they both die or only the babe dies - there was a way to remove the baby surgically if that's the case. But you need to choose."

"Why do I have to choose? It's her decision - her body, her life, her choice."

"She is delirious with pain," the Maester deflected, "and if the babe is a boy, wouldn't you rather know and have him?"

"And lose my wife?" Daemon growled. "I think the fuck not. You will not put this decision on me, it is for her to decide."

He pushed past everyone to take the spot beside you and instantly pick up your hand. "Daemon," you sobbed, "for fuck's sake, please, please, just let this be over. Get the babe out."

"You're almost there, sweetheart."

But one of the Septas assisting the Maesters squeaked in mild alarm, and when Daemon looked, there was a significant amount of blood blooming under you. "She's bleeding, could be a hemorrhage," the Maester rushed, lifting your thin gown to judge the birthing canal.

"What's wrong?" You asked in a half-slur.

"Nothing, you're okay," Daemon assured softly, kissing your hand.

Your screams through labor echoed through empty stone halls. Your pain was tangible, your fear paramount. "What's wrong!?" You begged the room, "Why aren't they coming? Why won't our baby come?"

"We're trying, Princess," A Septa spoke softly.

You only cried until your exhaustion outweighed your consciousness; your mind going blank, eyes rolling back, and slipping into the weighted darkness from the blood loss. Daemon frantically shook your shoulder, begging, "My love, please! Wake up! Wake up now! What's going on!?"

"There's too much blood!"

"I told you to choose!" The Maester snapped at Daemon. "Now they will both lose their lives!"

Daemon felt his chest hallow - figuring the words were true enough. He couldn't decide, he refused to, and now you suffered and the possibility of losing your child was larger than before. "My Prince," a Septa approached, "you need to wait outside."

"No - "

"They need to operate, you cannot linger here," she insisted. "You will be called for."

He steeled his jaw, pointing a warning finger at the Maester, "Don't make the cut else your loved ones will only see you on a spike around the Red Keep."

Prince Daemon waited outside for another few hours. He paced, he refused food and drink, he simply wanted to be in there with you but had to begrudgingly put faith into the medical team working on you. He smirked when he saw his daughter, Visenya, round the distant corner and sprint up to him - Carlee chasing her.

"Are you skipping lessons, again, Little Dragon?" Daemon grunted as he caught his daughter - swinging her onto his hip by using the momentum from catching her.

"Where's Mummy and the baby?" She demanded.

Daemon sighed, "The baby doesn't want to come out, yet, love, so we can't see them yet."

"But it's been a day, Daddy!" She whined.

"I know, pet," he sighed with a frown, glancing at the closed door. "It's all right," he told the maid, "she can remain here with us."

"My Prince, she'd miss - "

"Lessons? You dare try to say lessons are more important?" He snapped.

"Daemon," Viserys frowned from his wheelchair. "Your anger is misplaced."

He hummed, readjusting his daughter on his hip as Alicent dismissed Carlee; letting Daemon begin to pace again. When the door opened, he whipped around, but only an in-training Maester slipped out of the room - giving no time to peer inside. "Well?" Daemon demanded.

"We are still working, My Prince, but I am to fetch more material," he answered, nodding once, then dashing away. It did nothing to settle his nerves, in fact, they tripled when the lad returned with a procession of aids - all carrying different material. They reentered the room, and Daemon felt his heart snap.

"Stay with Uncle, Little Dragon," Daemon told his daughter, approaching Viserys, offering him the child to which he accepted. "Stay here, do not move, Daddy has to check on Mummy. Yes?"

"Is she sick?" Visenya frowned.

"I'll check, my love."

"I can go, too, Daddy."

Daemon sighed through his nose, his daughter making him melt into a pile of nothingness - but reminded himself to stay firm. "No, love, you just stay here and Daddy will check," he assured softly as Viserys lifted his hands to keep hold of the young girl and ensuring she did not follow Daemon when he nodded, turned, and shoved through the door into the birthing chamber.

"My Prince!"

But Daemon couldn't move.

There was blood everywhere. Soiled linens, a drenched nightgown, scattered puddles of splattered life source across the floor. You looked delirious, confused; not fully present in your mind, and when he noted the Milk of the Poppy, he understood your pain was trying to be managed. Blood painted up and down your thighs; blood pooling under your cunt, but there was a baby's head visible.

Startled, he rushed for your side and knelt to take your hand. "My love," he breathed, "can you hear me? Are you with me? Please. Please, sweet wife, open your eyes and look at me."

When you did, he could tell you were unfocused and unsure who he was before realization dawned over your facial expression. "Daemon," you whispered, squeezing his hand slightly.

"I'm here, love," he promised. "Right here - I'm with you."

"The baby?"

"Almost," he promised, watching your eyes flutter.

"She needs to push, my Prince," the birthing maester instructed. "C'mon, c'mon, now's the time - push! Push, Princess, push!"

"C'mon, love!" Daemon encouraged, watching sweat glisten over every exposed surface of skin; jaw clenching, bearing down and pushing with might.

The screams echoed through the Keep, only drowned out when a storm rolled in that evening. The thunder masked the profanities shouted, lightning accompanied by each scream of pain as birth split you in half. Daemon did not leave your side, encouraging you through the entire ordeal, his trousers saturating with your blood as more dripped to the floor as you pushed, pushed, pushed, and pushed with all the strength you had.

"You gotta keep goin', love," Daemon would tell you, "gotta keep fightin' for this - don't stop now. I need you with us, our children will need us, this is not something I can do alone. Please," he begged, "do not make me say goodbye. Not until we're fat and old, remember? Huh? My precious love, you're almost done, but you have to keep fighting. It'll be worth it, soon. Just keep going!"

By the following morning, a babe was being pulled from your cunt with a gushing wave of fluid and blood - reminding the Maester very briefly of cattle birth. However, while relief colored your system, the medical attendants felt panic flood theirs - muttering, hushing, consulting the baby to the side as the Maester saw you through the afterbirth. "W-Wait," you slurred, "wh-where are they? Where? Daemon, wh-what is it? Girl or boy?"

He frowned, Septas, Silent Sisters, and other maids all huddled together without your child in sight. "I-I do not know, yet, sweetheart, but remain calm. The worst is over..." But when he looked down at you, he noticed how still you laid and felt his panic skyrocket. He begged your name several times, demanding you wake up, but you remained silent and still - skin even turning clammy as sweat dried. Daemon was actually pulled out of the way, two Maesters attending to your side, and he felt impossibly in the middle.

To his left, his child. To his right, his wife. Both of whom appear in distress, both of whom hold his worry. "She's clots again," he heard from the Maesters. "Not breathing," he heard from the Septas.

So, this is what Hell was like...

A shrill cry pierced the air, adrenaline draining from Daemon's blood as he realized this only meant the babe was okay. When he was approached with the bundle, he worried, "She should be the first to hold them."

"It's all right, my Prince," the Septa spoke softly, "you may hold her now, and later, you can lay her on your wife's chest."

Daemon nodded, taking the baby. He blinked, "Did you say, 'she'?"

"A girl, my Prince, healthy, strong, full-term."

"What's wrong with her?" He demanded. "Why does my wife not wake?"

"The blood loss," a Maester muttered, "'s gotta be the blood loss."

He couldn't move or breathe. His daughter screamed, still, but he was terrified by the sight of the Maesters flocking over your still-body. Daemon protested, but once more, he was asked to leave the chamber and had to be escorted - but he wanted to remain. He wanted to linger, to watch you, to ensure you were taken care of... Yet the bundle in his arms wriggled and sobbed, reminding him that he had a responsibility to his daughter that needed his attention.

"Daemon," Alicent perked up when the door opened, eyes widening at the sight of the Targaryen swaddle.

"Brother?" Viserys worried, eyes glistening as he assumed the worst.

"She's... She's not waking up," He spoke without emotion, "the Maesters are still working."

Viserys nodded, holding a sleeping Visenya on his lap still. "You need rest," he recommended.

"No, I think I will stay," Daemon refused.

"You can't function this way," Alicent tacked on. "The Maesters will still be at work, and even after, she will not be awake for hours. Milk of the Poppy is potent, and with her exhaustion, it's sure to be an intense combination."

He nodded slowly, "I want to be here."

So, Daemon remained.

He let Visenya sit with him on the stone bench outside the birthing chamber; his brother remaining to offer moral support alongside his wife until royal obligation can calling. He remained stoic, holding his daughter and only passing her off to the wet nurse when a feeding or cleaning needed attended to. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but when the doors opened, Daemon shot to his feet; leaving his infant daughter in Visenya's lap.

"She's asking for you," the Maester told Daemon, smirking slightly when the Prince charged for the room. He looked around at the disarray and how dwarfed you appeared in the bed; sheets still saturated with blood.

Never before had he felt such relief, dropping to his knees as if in prayer at your bedside; tearfully picking up your hand to kiss the back of it. "You're alive," he whispered in shock, "oh, bless the Seven, you're alive - you're still here with me. With us."

You could only manage a tired, half-smile, "Can't be rid of me that easy."

He snorted his amusement, "Thought I lost you for a moment there..."

"Sorry to scare you," you whispered, "but 's not easy pushing a baby from your cunt, huh?"

"No, definitely not. Especially a Targaryen, born of Fire and Blood," he looked close to tears, "they are known for their harsh entrance into this world."

"I'd endure all of it for our children," you mumbled, taking a long breath. "I'm tired, Daemon."

He looked to a lingering Maester, the one in training, asking, "Can she move back to our chambers?"

"She might not want to walk, yet," the lad advised, "but yes. Perhaps a familiar environment will help the healing process."

Daemon had a Maester carrying his infant daughter and escort Visenya to your living quarters while he brought you. He laid you in bed, ensuring your comfort before taking his daughter back in his arms, dismissing the staff, and telling Visenya to change into her loungewear. They were going to take a nap with Mummy...

"Daemon?" You mumbled.

"I'm here, love," he rushed to your side, "you all right? What do you need?"

"It's hurting," you frowned.

Daemon laid your daughter beside you in bed, furthest into the mattress, so he could prepare your next dose of Milk of the Poppy. Visenya, changed for the lazy day, jumped into bed with you, smiling at her new sister as Daemon changed himself. When he joined you in bed, he kept the baby between the two of you as Visenya deflated on Daemon's chest. She all but instantly fell asleep, both parents allowing for several long minutes to pass; ensuring their slumbering state.

"Did you pick a name?" You asked, tracing your fingertip along your baby's belly in soft, ticklish motions.

"Not yet," he answered. "Thought that should be a decision we agree on."

"I have no preference," you told him softly, "I'm just relieved she's here."

"You and me both," he whispered, leaning over to kiss your forehead. "You did such a good job, sweetheart, to endure this Targaryen Curse for our family - such a good job."

You smiled at him, catching his lips in a full kiss as the poppy released into your bloodstream. "I love you," you promised him.

"I love you," he echoed; the serenity surrounding you both in a warm embrace. Unable to help himself, Daemon teased, "So, when do you want our third child?"

You both had to suppress your humor to protect your sleeping daughters from being rudely woken.

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