#DAEMON TARGARYEN | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aias-fxtns · 3 days ago

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Girl, when I say I set aside my laptop and immediately run to tumblr after finishing my final projects for this last sem, just so I can find and read the lastest chapters of this... god forbid a woman is just balancing her priorities.

You sigh into his shoulder as he secures you over him. You mumble against his skin, "I dream of waking to you often."

"As do I," he brushes his nose against you.

AHHHHHHH YAS, GOOD GOD!!!! THE CRUMBS🙌🙌🙌

Daemon shifts, sitting up so your head was no longer hovering. He pulls you against his chest, kissing your temple, "I am an awfully persistent presence. I will not fade, even if you insist upon it."

"I would never insist that you fade," you rub his cheek, "especially not for me."

Yes, the relationship is improving. The way they communicate now compare to the past, we know it's improving especially after the... mwehwheheh... I hope it will be consistent. (PLSSSS)

He shifts and looks down at you, taking your face to steal back your attention, "that was not a dream."

Finally! It's been cleared and known to y/n, good for her.

"You are no pawn," he wipes your cheeks, "you are my queen."

AH, DUH! AS WE SHOULD BE TREATED!!!

A deep chuckle passes his lips. "Do not flatter me so," he rubs his nose against yours, "I will not let out of this bed."

You kiss his neck, "you will not hear a complaint from me."

Daemon groans and hurtles himself into you, crushing you beneath him. You giggle as he kisses you, mouth hungry for yours. He finds the back of your knee on instinct, and is soon strapping your legs around him. His lips, tongue, and teeth take a moment on your skin.

YEEEESSSSSS!!! (Insert Dr. Falicier saying/singing "Yes", at some point to prince Naveen in "The Princess and The Frog".)

The sound of your name pulls you out of it. He kisses your jaw reassuringly, "None of me desires to gain children but lose my wife. I've already had a taste... it is too bitter to bear."

I love me some man who will not force me to bare a child if he knows I can't (physically, mentally, and emotionally). Good for him!

And knowing the wound they bare after losing the twins is somehow still there so it's really reasonable to stop pushing the idea of pregnancy, let both of you heal first and make sure to make yourselves somewhat stable, then that's when you guys need to reconsider it all out. The Gods will give it to you soon.

"You will regain your strength and then," he stresses, "then shall children come."

Your lips wobble, "a-and if I don't—"

He silences you with a kiss, mumbling, "you will get better."

He takes no other word from you save his name moaned in pleasure.

Take your time, momma. Let your body and soul heal first🥹🫂

He draws your love making until his hair is dripping in sweat and your skin is sticky with him. You're consumed wholly by him and he is consumed wholly by you. Once you're both coming down from your high, you latch yourself around him, unwanting him to pull away from you.

No comment, just this picture.

"I want you inside my ribcage."

I love it when writers do this stuff. Like they use cannibalism or any kind of insane metaphors to describe love or love-making scene, it's just tickle my braincells and shows how creative their mind is.

‎When you arrive, the pit is bustling. The first thing you both notice is Caraxes is feasting, feasting as if his life depended on it, as if he hadn't eaten in months, which he hasn't, not properly.

Good for you bud, get stronger even more!!

Daemon's throat tightens as you walk towards the boy, grunting as he jumps into your arms. Before his jealousy claws at him, Caraxes, with his new found strength, turns and hisses at the villain, the child in your embrace. Like master, like mount.

Like father, like son. No DNA needed.

"Caraxes," Daemon raises a hand in correction. He walks over to him and strokes his face. The dragon pushes into him, showing his displeasure. He hushes him, "Nyke gīmigon, Caraxes. Istiti gūrēñagon ityragon." I know, Caraxes, we must learn to share.

SUS😏

Caraxes makes a sound, as if knowing how incredibly stupid the notion was.

He knows bs when he hears/smells one🙌, LMAO

Caraxes in his human form after the bs coming from his father:

Aegon squeals in protest and Caraxes begins to react, earning Daemon's attention again. The older prince turns and raises a hand, commanding the dragon to stay back.

In the end, because the pair's emotional meltdown, they were both escorted back to their rooms, and you were left feeling terrible to see Aegon be carried away while he cried out for you.

This chaotic duo, I can't with this one😭

Your face twist, "you act as though you would not put up a fight if you were pried away from your dragon."

SHE CLOCKED HIM OUT WITH THIS ONE!!

Silver hair flutters across his eyes as Aemond lifts his gaze, "maybe we can take a break... ?"

I mean, me too bud, I ain't risking my cake for a battle I know I can't win. Good for you.

He does not even look at Aemond, instead, he sneaks an arm behind you, pulling you closer to him, "if you don't let me have lunch now, I'm I'm going to eat your aunt."

The double meaning I can't😭😭😭

Aemond gasps, immediately pulling your skirt away from him, "NO!!!!!"

Starting from this scene I can't stop laughing, I be Deamon irl, being a menace to my niece and nephews, making them scream and cry because they look fun to trigger.

Daemon eyes the frantic Aemond, circling an arm around you as he bites your shoulder.

"NOOOO!" Aemond squeals, trying his best to save you from attempted cannibalism.

Aemond locked in protecting his auntie, LMAO😭

"Daor," Daemon stands as well, eyeing Aemond, "I am a dragon. I gladly eat your aunt every nig—"

Not the double meaning again, we know you also meant it (ifykyk), Daemon😏.

He breaks into a laugh while Aemond breaks into a sob.

I be Daemon irl🙌😭

Aemond woefully looks at Daemon, lips trembling, "muña iksis va moriot ōdrikagon. nyke ȳdra daor jaelagon ao naejot ōdrikagon zirȳla." (Maternal) aunt is always hurt. I don't want you to hurt her.

Awe, protect this kid at all cost!!!

"AND SUNFYRE MANAGED TO DO CIRCLES IN THE SKY!" Aegon motioned with a fork from where he sat at the head of the table.

Another one, see! It's shows how amazing this kids turned out to be when they're surrounded with a good environment, people, and childhood. They're being molded in a proper way. The canon kids would love to experience this one🥹🥹

He would never admit it, but everyone knew, Aemond was his favorite. Holding him after his return from Essos, at a time he was so vulnerable, forged an profound partialness for the boy. He tried to convince himself he'd be just as wretched as his older brother, but he simply was not. Aemond was quiet, observant, obedient, and most importantly, he was not nearly as interested in you as his siblings. He was interested in Daemon, and Daemon adored it; he adored him.

The AU of this, love it! The duo we must have!!!

Daemon's face darkens. Rat.

You inspect Aemond, and Daemon no longer shields him. The boy wanted cake, let him face the consequences. Aemond turns to you, violet eyes innocent, mouth covered in frosting.

Aemond whines, crushing most in an attempt to continue eating it.

LMAO, not the father instinct kicking in—in Daemon when it comes to Aemond😭

He was definitely staring at Aegon like this across the table:

It was a mistake to look at you then. He is powerless beneath your gaze. He curses softly in High Valyrian then waves a hand, "one last game."

The children cheer.

Look at this family. We can end it here you know. No more drama. Yes, the end, guys. Thank you, everyone🙌😅. And they lived happily ever after.... The end.

You watch them play. Daemon is far gentler now which makes the game far more fun. Your heart tightens over how much joy you feel that you have to step out of the room to calm yourself down.

The improvement of their individuality and as well as a partner is very good, I hope it will be well for all of them consistently, even with a slight hint of angst😭😭 (Fuck I feel like I'm jinxing it... Am I?)

Your gaze lands on him. Your eyes are slightly beady, which is why your chuckle confuses him. "Silly boy," you reach for his cheek, "you are my home."

His heart rattles in his chest. He takes your wrist and kisses it.

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THEM.

I swear to God, this two screams yearning. Especially, Daemon. He is so Hozier coded😭😭😭. Everytime I read stories like this I tend to listen to one of Hozier music as I read them quietly🙌. This chapter is amazing as always! Love them, especially after a very long time of not using this app since of my busy schedule as a academic weapon. LMAO. I enjoy and love it as always!🩷

This chapter scream, "From Eden" by Hozier.

Tormented Spirit | 22

Part 1 [...] 20 21 22 23

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, emotional constipation, pregnancy, miscarriage, panic/anxiety attacks, suicidal ideation, attempted suicide, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: i just realized sunfyre didn't hatch for aegon and he had to claim him... anyway since I already wrote it like that, just roll with it ok?? ALSO PLEASE SPARE ME A COMMENT/REBLOG IF YOU LIKE THIS because it feels so aimless T_T anyway next part wont be... hopefully <3 | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat @prettybiching @astrogirl01

You find yourself awakening to the feel of hands brushing through your hair. You slowly open your eyes and curl inward, sensitive to the sunshine beaming in through the window. You are pulled in with a contented sigh.

You realize two things then, one, your head was upon Daemon's chest, and two, he was singing something under his breath. You slowly lift your head, finding his face. His eyes were closed, though he was still combing through your hair with a tune upon his lips. He was beautiful.

Your heart tightens as you reach for him.

Daemon stills when he feels your hand on his cheek and promptly opens his eyes.

Your own water as he takes your hand to press a kiss upon in.

"Sȳz ñāqes." Good morning.

Your lips tremble, "issi ao drējion?" Are you real?

His brows furrow as a tear runs down your cheek. He quickly shifts, wipes it away, and pulls you tightly into him, "kessa." You instantly seal your arms around him. He presses a kiss upon your head, "iksan kesīr, ñuha jorrāelagon." Yes. I am here, my love.

You sigh into his shoulder as he secures you over him. You mumble against his skin, "I dream of waking to you often."

"As do I," he brushes his nose against you.

He rubs your back as he feels wetness build on his collar. He holds you tighter, hoping his embrace will dam your tears. He whispers your name in an attempt to soothe you.

You pull away and examine his face.

Daemon frowns at how pinkish and puffy your eyes were already.

You gently swipe his pout and smooth the line between his brows. He seems to relax slightly as you continue to trace the rest of his features. You sniffle, "are your dreams vivid?"

He watches you— you, who seemed to be so enamored by him. He clenches his jaw and squeezes your hip, "sometimes I feel you in my arms."

You lock gazes.

"But then I find a pillow in my embrace when I rouse."

You frown slightly, "my dreams feel like memories that never were. They quickly fade when I open my eyes."

Daemon shifts, sitting up so your head was no longer hovering. He pulls you against his chest, kissing your temple, "I am an awfully persistent presence. I will not fade, even if you insist upon it."

You chuckle softly.

He smiles, squeezing your arm, as if urging that you bless him with the sound once more.

"I would never insist that you fade," you rub his cheek, "especially not for me."

He takes your wrist and kisses it.

"I do have one dream that I have not forgotten... one and only."

He hums in interest.

"I was praying in the temple, and you came to me."

Daemon's throat tightens.

"It was after the last dinner we had with the late queen Aemma, after all the ruckus from it."

He hums again, brows tightening at the memory.

"The next thing I know I was in bed and you were looking down at me," you brush your lips, "then I was kissing you, holding you, pulling you i—"

"Wait," he shakes his head, "this was the night before the tourney, was it not?"

You nod as you trace the burn scars across his chest. You frown and kiss him there.

He shifts and looks down at you, taking your face to steal back your attention, "that was not a dream."

You look up at him, "hmm?"

"I went to you in the temple," he shakes his head, silver hair falling to his face, "I knelt with you then carried you back to your chambers. You asked me to stay and I did."

Your brow furrows as you sit up, "y-you did?" You shake your head, "but I-" your eyes water, "I woke up alone, I-" your lips wobble.

Daemon feels dreadful. He almost mentions that he knows what you've prayed for all your life, but he does not want to speak it into existence if that was no longer the case. Instead, he says, "I had to rouse early for the games."

You whimper, "do you speak true?"

He clutches your cheeks and nods slowly, "I did not want to. I waited until the last moment to leave. I didn't have the heart to wake you."

You scratch your eyes, not wanting to cry, "I... that was why I could not bear to go to the games... I was so bitter that my dreams were so sweet and reality- .... reality—" you cannot withhold your sob.

Daemon pulls you against him, guilt rising up his neck as he recalls the cruelty he handed you once you do arrive. Jealousy soon replaces guilt when he thinks of Gwayne. He grits his teeth, "would you have still gone to your brother had you not believed our love making was a dream?"

You sniffle, "... what?"

He examines your once more dampened cheeks and hangs his head, "would you have been more partial to me had you known I actually stayed with you that night?"

Your heart throbs, "do you ask me if I would have cared less for my twin?"

"No," he looks away, "I ask if you would you have cared more for me."

"I do care for you," you reach for his cheek.

"More than your beloved Gwayne?" he turns back to you.

You frown, "now, yes."

He should be happy, but he bristles at the context. He chuckles dryly, "you loved him more then."

"It still hurt me to know you saw me as a pawn in your game," you simultaneously shrug and shake your head, "I do not mind it now, so long as you do not abandon me."

"You are no pawn," he wipes your cheeks, "you are my queen."

You purse your lips, "Aemma told me something similar... that pawns turn into queens."

"You are no pawn to me," he repeats firmly.

You lower your gaze, "be it as it may... a queen must provide her king an heir and..." you wipe your face, "I- I am not strong enough."

He speaks your name, gently shaking you.

You hide behind your palms.

He parts his mouth, but finds nothing to say.

For a moment, a moment far too long, you crumble into despair. Your affliction does not take control of you though as Daemon's touch keeps you grounded.

He desperate to soothe you, "I am second born."

You take deep breaths to steel your tears.

"Rhaenyra's been named successor..." his voice is soft, "I've no use for heirs."

Your pull your hands away, face falling, brows tightening at his words. You rapidly shake your head, "do not comfort me with lies."

"I don't need to," he mutters, "my words are true, I..." he shrugs, "... need no heirs."

"You would have me believe you do not want me to sire you sons or daughters?"

He places his hands on your belly, his large hand rubs warm circles, "... that is not what I said."

"Daemo-"

"There is nothing to inherit from me," he shrugs.

Your forehead curls. You shift beside him and rest your head on his shoulder, "you would not have them inherit your tenacity or your comeliness?"

His nostrils flare. He leans into you, "you find me comely, wife?"

"I find you beauteous."

A deep chuckle passes his lips. "Do not flatter me so," he rubs his nose against yours, "I will not let out of this bed."

You kiss his neck, "you will not hear a complaint from me."

You are dazed when he pulls away. His heart races at the sight of your swollen lips and glazed expression.

You comb through his hair, "your hair is longer."

"Mmm," he brushes your hair off your shoulder, "do you prefer it short?"

You shrug, "I prefer you how ever."

Daemon chuckles, hand coming to your cheek. He traces your lips with his thumb, "very well," he squeezes your thigh and bucks into you, "I shall bed you before breaking fast."

Your belly swirls. You close your eyes when he kisses your neck.

He licks your pulse, "I shall fill your belly with my seed-"

Your eyes open.

"-that you might feel my warmth inside you," he massages your waist.

"Daem-"

"Then you shall have your fill of moon tea."

You tense. Daemon continues to kiss you until he can no longer ignore the rigidness of your form. His eyes lock with yours as he examines you. He sees your trepidation. He tucks hair behind your ear.

I-need-no-heirs plays in your mind. Your throat tightens, not knowing what to think. Is he sick of you, sick of your inadequacies? He wants children but... not by you? He no longer wants to try—

The sound of your name pulls you out of it. He kisses your jaw reassuringly, "None of me desires to gain children but lose my wife. I've already had a taste... it is too bitter to bear."

You grip his shoulder, tight enough that his flesh punctures beneath your nails. You want to speak, but you know not what.

"You will regain your strength and then," he stresses, "then shall children come."

Your lips wobble, "a-and if I don't—"

He silences you with a kiss, mumbling, "you will get better."

He takes no other word from you save his name moaned in pleasure.

Daemon is gentle.

He does not rush.

He adores it, yet, the same moment, he finds he is, in fact, just a man and you were feminine divinity overwhelming him. "My love," Daemon grunts against your neck, "... let up."

"I want you inside my ribcage."

He both chuckles and whines against your jaw, "I am still inside you, lover."

"I want to eat you."

Daemon, overwhelmed still, but gravely besotted, nips at your ear, "later, I swear it."

You find yourself giggling at the sound of him.

"I admit..." Daemon whispers, "... I wish to rouse... I worry terribly for Caraxes."

You immediately loosen your grip on him.

Daemon whimpers, suddenly ungrateful at the release. He looks at you, brows furrowed in worry, "he must want to eat me as well... though unlike you."

You frown at his expression and shake your head, "he misses you. I've had my turn. You should go to him."

"I can be shared," he licks his lips, "come with me?"

You knit your brows and nod, "of course."

‎Daemon holds your hand tightly all the way to the pits. Part of you wants to tell him you're not going to vanish into thin air, but in truth, you enjoy the fervor of his hold.

Daemon squeezes your hand, and so do you, turning to him with a smile. His lips were slightly parted and his eyes were glassy. You reach for his arm and rub his bicep. He leans into you, scratching his eyes.

"You did it, he's better now," you mutter.

Daemon sniffles and sighs, looking back to Caraxes. He pulls you along with him as he walks towards one of the head keepers and has conversation with her.

As he does, you watch the blood wyrm scarf down food as if his life depended on it. He was crunching on beasts twice your size like apple. You vaguely hear something about him eating 10 cows before a loud, high pitched cry of your name rings across the space.

You turn and find Aegon, already running up to you with a kingsguard running after him. The child was too lithe and the guard's armor too heavy for the prince to be caught. You gasp and pull away from Daemon, immediately alerting him.

Caraxes makes a sound, as if knowing how incredibly stupid the notion was.

You bend down, allowing Aegon to take your cheeks and kiss you, "muña, I'm going to ride Sunfyre." (Maternal) aunt.

Daemon watches. When his throat tightens, he thinks of the boy's brother, Aemond, and how he felt holding him last night. It calms him down enough that he can offer his mount affection.

You raise your brows apprehensively at the boy, "you are?"

"Yes! Yes! I'm a big boy!"

You hear clanking and find the kingsguard now behind prince. You stand and raise a brow at him, "the prince says he will be riding today."

Daemon turns back.

"Will you be able to take responsibility of him?" you ask the guard.

The knight huffs, looking down at the prince.

You purse your lips at that and lean back towards your nephew, "has the dragon keepers said that you can?"

Aegon hums and looks away.

You sigh, "Aegon—"

"But I want to!" Aegon stomps his foot, turning to back to you, "skoro syt gaomagon eman rȳbagon se urnerys?!" Why do I have to listen to the keepers?!

"Ae-"

"Ao ȳdra daor," a deep voice speaks from behind you. You don't.

Aegon looks up at Daemon, eyes watery in frustration.

His uncle crosses his arms, feeling no sympathy for weepy looks of the child, "yn lo gaomā daor, pār ao daor limagon lo ao jiōragon ōdrikagon." But if you do not, then you cannot cry if you get hurt.

You turn as well, straightening up, "Daemon."

"Emā naejot rȳbagon naejot aōha muña," he raises a finger, "va moriot." You have to listen to your (maternal) aunt. Always.

"Daor," Aegon grumbles. No.

Daemon's upper lip curls. He steps forward, "eminna ao toliot ñuha ybon." I will have you over my knee.

"Daemon," you press a hand on his chest.

Daemon grits his teeth.

You take his cheek and make him look at you. The tension on his shoulders quickly melt away. You offer him a smile but quickly turn back to Aegon when he begins to stomp around in defiance.

He shrieks, "I WANT TO FLY!"

"Aegon!" you try to take his arm, but he wrangles out of your grip.

Aegon squeals in protest and Caraxes begins to react, earning Daemon's attention again. The older prince turns and raises a hand, commanding the dragon to stay back.

Your grip is weak, thus why your nephew slips out of your grasp. When he spots Sunfyre being ushered out the pits, he immediately tries to run to him, but his guard snatches his arm before he can. The golden dragon reacts in like with his rider's tantrum.

In the end, because the pair's emotional meltdown, they were both escorted back to their rooms, and you were left feeling terrible to see Aegon be carried away while he cried out for you.

Daemon is satisfied that you stayed with him. He rubs Caraxes's snout, continuing to calm him. He calls out your name and reaches a hand to you.

You take his hand, sighing as your husband pulls you into his chest. He kisses your temple and places your palm upon his dragon's scales. You are glad to feel that Caraxes warm again.

He cannot help himself, as jealousy lingers in his mouth, "spoiled fucking brat."

You raise a brow at him, "Aegon a child."

"No child of mine," Daemon scoffs, "how terrible to think there now is three."

Your face twist, "you act as though you would not put up a fight if you were pried away from your dragon."

You notice his jaw clench. You place your hand on his shoulder, silently demanding that he look at you.

Daemon huffs, "... fine."

You watch him give you a look.

"Let us pray your sister does not birth another brat."

She doesn't, she births a darling babe named Daeron four years later. Of course, in Daemon's eyes, he was a fussy nuisance, and he despised that his wails were audible in your chambers some nights. He was, in fact, a brat. A demanding one at that.

The boy demanded so much attention that apparently Alicent was not enough. Daeron did not sleep if he was not being held, and your bleeding heart was ever so weak for your sister and her spawn.

This was why you presently held the youngest prince in your arms; he needed to sleep and the queen had much else to attend to.

The sun shines upon your form in the training square. Daemon watches as you rock the child in your arms, tucking dark hair behind your ear as a gust of wind blows it into your face. He grunts when his sparring partner hits his hip.

"Got you!"

Daemon eyes the boy, and deflects with his wooden sword when he tries to hit him again, "didn't I tell you to take a break?"

"I'm not tired, kepus!"

The tiny prince tries to go at him again but Daemon pushes him back with no effort, "nice try."

You look up from Daeron when you hear tiny skidding feet. You adjust the babe in your arm and cup the side of your mouth, "be nice, darling."

Daemon looks out to you, finding your raised brow, then turns back to the boy, "hear that. Your aunt told you to be nice and listen to your uncle."

None the wiser, the boy whips back at you then nods at Daemon, "okay, uncle."

He chuckles as his opponent gets back into fighting stance. He sighs, equally impressed and exasperated by the boy's spirit, "fine," he tilts his head, "let us make a deal. If you defeat me, I'll let you have my cakes at lunch time."

He gasps.

"But-" Daemon raises a finger, "-if I win, you have to give me all your cakes."

The boy freezes.

Daemon's lips curl in to a devious smirk.

He can only stare in silence after hearing the conditions.

"Well?" he raises his brow, "what say you, Aemond?"

Aemond turns to his feet. He lowers his practice sword, "... maybe ..."

"Maybe?" Daemon repeats.

Silver hair flutters across his eyes as Aemond lifts his gaze, "maybe we can take a break... ?"

Daemon laughs, reaching a hand out to the boy, "good choice."

Aemond gratefully takes his uncle's hand and the two walk towards you.

You smile at them and reach for your nephew's face when he's near, "done training, my love?"

"We're taking a brea-"

"We are," Daemon corrects as he sits. He rests his chin on your shoulder, "I'm tired."

You turn to him.

Aemond whines in protest, "you said we're taking a break."

"Yes, well," Daemon pushes your hair to the side and kisses your neck, "I'm starving."

"But kepus!" the boy whines, "it's not lunch time yet!"

He does not even look at Aemond, instead, he sneaks an arm behind you, pulling you closer to him, "if you don't let me have lunch now, I'm I'm going to eat your aunt."

Aemond gasps, immediately pulling your skirt away from him, "NO!!!!!"

You chuckle but click your tongue, "Aemond, I might drop your brother."

Daemon eyes the frantic Aemond, circling an arm around you as he bites your shoulder.

"NOOOO!" Aemond squeals, trying his best to save you from attempted cannibalism.

When you spot the boy's watery gaze, you shrug Daemon off and slowly come to a stand, "ȳdra daor limagon, ñuha jorrāelagon, aōha uncle tymagon lēda ao." Don't cry, my love, your uncle plays with you.

You secure Daeron in your arm before stroking a gentle finger across the boy's cheek.

"Daor," Daemon stands as well, eyeing Aemond, "I am a dragon. I gladly eat your aunt every nig—"

"Daemon!"

He breaks into a laugh while Aemond breaks into a sob.

You disapprovingly call out Daemon again, and he immediately picks the boy up, though he continuing to laugh. Aemond scratches his eyes as his uncle easily holds him in one arm, brushing his silver hair off his face

You glare at him, "it's not funny."

Daemon, enamored by the boy, kisses Aemond on the cheek, "little bit."

You continue to give him a withering glare.

When he finally catches it, his smile fades slightly. He sighs, "māzigon sir," he rubs Aemond's back, "mēre hae kostōba hae istia daor limagon." Come now. One as strong as you must not cry.

Your face falls, "oh, my love."

This promptly wipes Daemon's grin away. He sighs and strokes the boy's arm, "Kessa, kessa... shijetra ñuha tēmire." Yes, yes... forgive my cruelty.

Aemond sniffles, embracing Daemon as he drops his head on his broad shoulder.

Daemon rubs the boy's back. Aemond's empathy begets guilt into to him. It only flares at the sight of your disappointed expression.

"All is well, my love," you pat Aemond's head, "we shall eat cakes now."

Aemond perks, quickly turning to you.

Daemon's eyes crinkle his simpleness.

"Shall we wait for your siblings in the solar?" you smile.

Aemond nods eagerly.

Daemon chuckles softly, bouncing him in his arm.

You send off Daeron to his wetnurse while you, your husband, and your sister's children eat in the solar. Aegon and Helaena had returned from dragonback, and the former was excitedly telling you about the experience, much to the annoyance of Daemon.

Now eight, Aegon was an energetic and audacious thing. He was more so Daemon's villain now than he was then. He and the boy were competing constantly for your attention, and he did not like it one bit.

"AND SUNFYRE MANAGED TO DO CIRCLES IN THE SKY!" Aegon motioned with a fork from where he sat at the head of the table.

You immediately raise a hand but it is Daemon that sharply snaps, "do not play with your fork."

The boy obeys, but does not acknowledge his uncle at all, eyes still fixed upon you, "Helaena and Dreamfyre could barely keep up with us."

You turn to your niece, who sat beside you, quietly eating her food. You brush her hair back, "if that is so, you must slow down for her."

"NOOOO!" Aegon groans, leaning back into her chair, "that's no funnnnn!"

Daemon, who was on your other side, turns to the second born, "is your brother horrid with you, girl?"

"AM NOT!" Aegon protests.

Helaena turns to her uncle, glimmering eyes telling that she left her head in the clouds after riding through them, "Aegon is only Aegon."

She was capable of speaking only like this, like a dreamer. It once fascinated Daemon to see the gift manifest in her, but he quickly realized he had no patience for it, not in listening, much less deciphering. You, however, had eternal patience and lent your ear to every nonsensical word she spoke, even the ones of bugs. Unlike the jealousy her older brother inspired from coveting his wife, he could not find fault in Helaena; she was a gentle thing.

Your brows slightly furrow at Helaena's words, knowing that Aegon has grown to be rather stubborn and expedient.

Daemon sees it as a clear opportunity to villainize him, "so you were being horrid."

"WAS NOT!" Aegon whines, pulling at his hair in frustration.

"Hush," you raise a hand, glaring at Daemon before offering Aegon a sympathetic look, "you weren't. But you, yourself, said you didn't wait for Helaena-"

"BECAUSE SHE'S FUCKING SLOW!"

"Aegon!" you quip, "watch your tongue!"

Daemon chuckles to himself, reveling in how the boy exemplified his horridness. Just as Daemon takes a bite of his food, Aemond, who sat beside him, tugs at his sleeve, pointing to the cake in the middle of the table.

Aemond's plate was not even half finished, and he and Daemon both knew it would greatly displease you if the boy had dessert already. Yet, your husband steals a glance at you amidst your attempt to calm your bratty nephew and casually reaches for a cakes, quickly handing it to Aemond.

The young prince gratefully curls into his chair and smiles at his uncle, "thank you, kepus."

Daemon hums and shifts, turning his body that you might not catch the child eating dessert already.

Once Aegon was calm, he continued finishing his meal. Unlike from your vantage point, Aegon could clearly see Aemond snacking on cakes, and so he purses his lips and takes one for himself.

You immediately react, "finish your food first."

"BUT AEMOND IS EATING CAKE!" Aegon points.

Daemon's face darkens. Rat.

You inspect Aemond, and Daemon no longer shields him. The boy wanted cake, let him face the consequences.

"Aemond!"

Aemond turns to you, violet eyes innocent, mouth covered in frosting.

"You haven't finish your vegetables!" you reach for the cake in his hand.

Aemond whines, crushing most in an attempt to continue eating it.

You click your tongue at the mess and elbow Daemon while you're at it. You brush your nephew off while muttering sharply, "you know better than to feed the boy sweets."

Daemon raises his hands, "I did-"

You silence him with a glare.

He tenses, finding it pointless to feign innocence.

After lunch, you and Daemon bring the kids back to their rooms, the latter is eager to have you all to yourself now. As you were about to leave, Alicent arrives. She constantly look troubled as of late, now that Viserys health went on a visible decline.

"Sister," she sighs, coming to you in haste.

Daemon's expression sours when he hears the queen ask if you could spare her a moment. He grits his teeth when you, in all your kindness, readily agree, and immediately get pulled out the room.

He sighs. He watches Aegon and Aemond play with blocks and wooden dragons for a moment and quickly decides to terrorize them while waiting for your chat to end.

When you walk back in, Daemon had roped in Helaena as a fellow antagonist. Though his intentions were truly meanspirited, the children saw only amusement in their uncle as he fashioned himself as the Black Dread, kicking down the castles they were building while Helaena clung on his back, pretending to be The Conqueror.

The sight pinches your heart tightly.

Aegon squeals, trying to push his uncle away as Aemond scrams to rebuild a tower. The older boy yells, "HURRY!"

"I'M TRYING!" Aemond trembles in his haste.

Daemon sees you, sighing through a faint grin, "thank the gods."

The sound of Helaena's laughter as she's put down to your feet should have made you want to laugh with her, but it made you want to cry instead.

"No wait," Aegon cries out, "not yet! We're not finished!"

Daemon shakes his head, not budging as the boy pulls at his arm. He walks over to you, slipping out of Aegon's grasp, "I'm exhausted, boy."

Aegon whines, "but uncle!"

Soon, Aemond is begging Daemon to stay as well. Your heart continues to ache for the kids, but clearly your husband is unmoved. He eyes the boys expressionless, but then notices that even Helaena is hovering. His resolve slightly chips, "enough. I should like a nap, as should you lot."

The boys whine.

You frown.

It was a mistake to look at you then. He is powerless beneath your gaze. He curses softly in High Valyrian then waves a hand, "one last game."

The children cheer.

You watch them play. Daemon is far gentler now which makes the game far more fun. Your heart tightens over how much joy you feel that you have to step out of the room to calm yourself down.

The game is truly over then.

Daemon is quick to your side, egregiously worried at how you were clutching your chest.

You tell him you're alright, but you were so out of breath he does not understand it. He frantically mutters High Valyrian in an attempt to calm you as he rubs your back and keeps you upright.

Again, you say, "I'm alright," and he finally understands you, though he obviously cannot believe it is true.

"Shall we go for a swim?" Daemon mutters softly, so not give himself away to his panic.

You shake your head as you the tightness in your lungs slowly wanes. You lean into his chest, lulling yourself at the sound of his heart beat.

He never knows if he should wrap his arms around you during these times. He waits until you hold him for him to return the affection.

You were soft beneath his touch, no more the shell of what you were when he had first left you for the Stepstones. You were stronger now, more than even how you were when he first met you, brighter too; you had been so sad then. He revels in knowing it was because of him.

"I want to lay down," you mutter against his doublet.

Daemon nods. The lines in his forehead do not fade, for you look exhausted.

Yes, you were stronger, but it seemed even your affliction was. It didn't happen as much, and he was glad of it, but when it did, it was too much.

He rubs your arm as you slowly head back to your chambers. In an attempt to distract you, Daemon asks, "what did your sister say?"

When you look at him, it seems this was not the best choice of conversation.

He immediately shakes his head, "did I already tell you about how Caraxe-"

"It's Daeron."

He purses his lips, already knowing whatever it is will not be good.

"She cannot care for him and manage the king's health and all her duties at once. He'll be sent 45to ward in Oldtown."

Daemon's brows furrow.

"She asked me if I wanted to go with him—"

"What?" he stops you both in your tracks.

"— or if Gwayne should come here to-"

"Get the fucking cunt to crawl here. Why should you have to fucking travel to that hellhole?"

"..."

"... I-" Daemon sighs and shakes his head in frustration. He squeezes your hand, "I jus-"

"I was not going to go."

Daemon gulps.

"I am not foolish enough to believe my strength would last a day if we are apart."

Your words make him relax, and yet your soft smile makes his lips curl into a guilty frown.

"My sister too is well aware of this," you squeeze his hand back, "she asked with the intention that you'd come with me."

Daemon tenses. He does not like the sound of it.

Clearly to you and your gentle heart, you believed your sister urges such things to your betterment, and perhaps it was so, but he was not gentle. His gut screamed that the Hand had something to do with this, that it was he that planted this idea in the Queen's head. He does not speak it for your sake.

You lick your lips and take a breath, "the last time I was able to take my pregnancy to term was when I went back to Oldtown."

He tenses and knits his brows. He reaches for your cheek and shakes his head, "we've only started trying."

You look off aimlessly before turning back to him, "we started trying when Aemond was two. He is four now, and Daeron is due his first nameday."

"Do not measure yourself against your sister," Daemon's expression hardens, "she's not known a fraction of your suffering."

You do not respond. When you look away again, you do not look back.

He sighs in frustration. He does not mean to break your spirit. He slowly calls out your name.

"You're right," you shake your head, "I just-"

"Want to go to home," he whispers, scared to say it too loud.

Your gaze lands on him. Your eyes are slightly beady, which is why your chuckle confuses him. "Silly boy," you reach for his cheek, "you are my home."

His heart rattles in his chest. He takes your wrist and kisses it.

You smile, "I do however... want to go to Oldtown."

Wistfulness captures your expression, causing him to frown. He squeezes your hand gently.

"The air is different there," you shrug, "kinder, I think."

"Kinder?" he cannot control his laugh, "the land wherein your father was molded is kind?"

You do not respond.

He regrets it, as your eyes are downcast yet again. He gulps and decides to simple tell you, "it might be he that put such notions in Alicent's head."

"My father?"

"Who else?" Daemon raises a brow, "he wants me far from my brother, that he may poison him further." He adds, as if you didn't already know, "he requires a cane to walk now."

You nod, "I know."

"I know you know, I just-"

"It's fine," you raise a hand, "like I said, I was not going to go."

Daemon feels ill to see you like this, but he does not say a word as you go back to your chambers.

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calmingmelody96 · 5 days ago

Text

The Dragon's Niece

Chapter 19 - The Dragon's Regret

Warnings: medival sexism, forced marriage, uncle-niece incest, kidnapping, holding captive, dirty talk, possessiveness

Masterlist

The fire crackled low in Daemon’s solar, casting flickering shadows along the stone walls. He stood by the hearth, hands clasped behind his back, as the young maid was ushered in. Thalia curtsied deeply, eyes lowered.

He didn’t turn to face her right away.

“So. It was you.”

His voice was calm and cold, slicing through the quiet like a drawn blade.

“The moon tea. You brought it to me.”

Thalia lifted her chin only slightly, her voice steady. “Yes, my prince. I thought you should know… I only wish to serve your house faithfully.”

Daemon turned then, his expression unreadable. There was no amusement in his eyes now, only weariness.

“And serve, you shall.”

He walked toward her, slowly, and dropped a small velvet pouch into her hand.

“A reward. For your loyalty.”

Her fingers curled around the pouch, lips parting in surprise.

“From now on,” he said, “you will serve in my wife’s chambers. Quietly. Without drawing suspicion. Her previous maid’s loyalties wavered. I trust yours won’t.”

Thalia's breath hitched in her throat as he stepped closer, his tone sharpening.

“Make her believe you are on her side. Tend to her gowns. Prepare her favorite meals. Braid her hair. Watch everything. Hear everything. And report to me directly.”

Thalia swallowed, then nodded.

“Yes, my prince.”

He met her gaze.

“You did well, Thalia. I don’t like being lied to. Especially by my wife.”

“I understand, of course” she said softly.

“Keep close to her,” Daemon went on, gaze turning hard. “If she sends for tea again... I want to know before the cup touches her lips.”

Thalia nodded. “I’ll keep watching.”

He gave a short nod. “Good. You may go.”

The chamber was silent but for the occasional crackle of the hearth. Maeliora sat curled on the velvet-cushioned window seat, knees drawn to her chest, chin resting on them as she gazed out into the mist-veiled sky above the Dragonmont. Her eyes were dry, but her heart beat heavy with confusion, sorrow, and the ache of something she couldn’t name.

Daemon had not returned ever since. The door had closed behind him with finality, and the silence that followed had grown louder by the hour.

She touched her throat absently, remembering his voice... not the sharp, commanding tone of earlier, but the gentler one that used to be reserved just for her.

“You’re so beautiful, sweet girl,” he had once whispered when he took her for the very first time, all those years ago, brushing her hair away from her face as she lay trembling in his arms. “So brave. So obedient. You did well, Melly... I’m proud of you, little one.”

The memory came unbidden… warm and delicate, like silk brushing against her skin. She had been nervous that first time, not of him, never of him, but of the unknown, of herself. Afraid of what was right and what was forbidden, of the laws of the realm, of faith, of her father’s judgment… of disappointing him. But Daemon had guided her with such tenderness. Every touch was reverent. Every kiss a quiet promise meant to soothe.

He had stroked her hair as she trembled beneath him, praising her softly. Afterwards, he hadn’t just turned away. He had fetched a cloth and cleaned her with care, then tucked her against him, arm wrapped around her shoulders, lips brushing her ear.

“You’re mine now, sweetling. You’ve made me the happiest man in the realm.”

That night, she had fallen asleep to the sound of his heartbeat, wrapped in warmth and safety. If only she could have stayed in that moment forever. If only morning had never come, if only that foolish maid hadn’t burst into her chambers and found her cradled in her uncle’s arms. If only her father hadn’t found out… hadn’t exiled him. If only she hadn’t been forced to marry Gwayne Hightower. She might have had Daemon’s warmth forever.

And now?

Now the warmth was gone.

She curled tighter against herself, unable to stop the thoughts from flooding her mind. Is it my fault? she wondered bitterly. Did I drive him to this?

Daemon's anger had scorched her. His words still echoed in her ears. Not the soft ones, not the ones she cherished... but cold commands, sharp reprimands, and looks that held judgment instead of adoration.

She hated it when he was angry with her. Hated how distant he became, how his eyes, once filled with such pride, now looked at her like a misbehaving child.

But worse than his anger was the absence of the man who once cradled her so tenderly. She missed him — her uncle, her husband, her protector, the man who had once chosen her above all others and sworn to make her feel loved.

She blinked rapidly, trying to swallow the knot forming in her throat. She couldn’t let herself cry. Not now. Not when she had to appear strong.

Still, a whisper in the back of her mind asked, What if I’ve lost him? What if his lips never call me ‘sweetling’ again?

The ache settled low and deep, familiar now. She closed her eyes and leaned against the window stone, letting the quiet suffocate her guilt. Outside, the sea roared faintly against Dragonstone’s cliffs, but inside her chambers, the silence was too loud.

The door creaked open.

She turned slightly, expecting Lyra’s soft shuffle and mumbled apologies. But it wasn’t Lyra who entered.

A girl stepped in — young, with dark curls, a calm expression on her face. She curtsied low and smoothly.

“Princess,” the girl said, voice measured. “Prince Daemon has asked that I be added to your service. I’m Thalia.”

Maeliora blinked, thrown off. “Where is Lyra?”

There was a pause. A small one.

“Reassigned, my Princess,” Thalia said gently. “His Highness was… displeased.”

Maeliora’s stomach twisted. So he had found out that Lyra was the one that helped her. And acted accordingly.

“Displeased,” she echoed quietly.

Thalia nodded once. “I will try my best to fill her space for you, Princess. I’ve worked in the kitchens, mostly, but I’ve tended to chambers before.” Thalia replied, her tone gentle. “Who knows, you might find me helpful, Princess. I am quiet and hardworking. I promise I won't disappoint you.”

“Very well,” Maeliora said, sitting straighter. “You may begin.”

Thalia stepped smoothly into place, eyes already noting where hairbrushes were laid, where linens had been folded. Her presence was soft-footed, efficient.

“Would you like your hair brushed, Princess?” she asked, her voice pleasant. “Or shall I prepare something for your bath?”

Maeliora didn’t answer at first. Her gaze lingered on the silver brush Lyra used to wield every evening. She missed her. But she also knew better than to protest.

“Brush it,” she said finally.

As Thalia came behind her and began to untangle the strands with practiced hands, Maeliora stared into the mirror, into her own eyes.

He replaced her, she thought. Just like that.

The air in the Red Keep’s solar was thick with incense and dust motes. King Viserys sat slouched upon a cushioned chair, his back aching from the strain of age and throne. He held the parchment in a trembling hand, his expression unreadable as he read it for his ever so loyal Hand — Otto Hightower.

To Prince Daemon Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone,

Your sudden and unannounced union with Princess Maeliora has reached my ears, and though I have long grown used to your defiance, this matter touches the throne more deeply than you realize — unlike your previous affairs, which did not involve a clandestine ceremony and your self-serving whims.

The realm is watching us, Daemon. I urge you to return to King’s Landing, with your wife and son, so that this union may be properly recognized and addressed. I would have words with both of you.

King Viserys Targaryen, First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men.

He sealed the scroll with wax and pressed the dragon stamp deep into its center. Then, he handed it to the steward without looking up.

Otto stood nearby, hands clasped behind his back, watching the king carefully.

“When Daemon reads this,” Viserys said softly, “he will do the opposite of what I ask.”

Otto spoke carefully, “Shall we prepare for their arrival regardless?”

Viserys gave him a sidelong glance. “Prepare? No. Wait.”

The heavy door opened with a low groan, stirring the quiet like a blade through silk.

Maeliora looked up from the chaise where she sat curled in silence, wrapped in a deep plum shawl. The fire in the hearth had burned low, casting flickering shadows across the carved stone walls. Her gaze flicked to the doorway — Daemon.

He entered without a word, his violet gaze sharp but unreadable as it swept over the room. He didn't stop to greet her. Instead, he unbuckled his sword belt with a practiced flick and tossed it onto the chair beside the bed. His silence was heavier than steel.

“Uncle,” she said softly, testing the water.

He said nothing, just shrugged off his black cloak and began unfastening the silver clasps of his doublet. His face was hard, his mouth drawn in a line she knew too well. Not cold, not cruel, but guarded. Wounded pride wrapped in armor.

She stood, hesitantly.

“I... wasn’t sure if you would come,” she offered, voice low.

“I live here,” he said flatly, not looking at her.

She tried again, voice light. “I can help you with that—”

“No need. I’ll manage.” he cut in, sharp and dismissive.

Maeliora shifted in her place, fingers brushing against the embroidered edge of her sleeve. She hated the silence. It coiled around them like smoke.

After a beat, she offered, “Do you want me to braid your hair before bed? It will tangle otherwise.”

He paused mid-motion. A long, heavy pause.

“No. Leave it.” he said at last.

Still, she approached him slowly, carefully, as he sat at the edge of the bed, his back to her, pulling off his boots. She didn’t touch him, not yet. Just stood beside him in the quiet.

“You’re still angry with me,” she said softly.

“I am,” he replied without looking at her.

A long pause.

She stepped a little closer, voice soft. “Are you going to keep punishing me in silence?”

His jaw flexed, but he didn’t answer.

She stepped behind him, her hand hovering before settling lightly on his shoulder.

“Uncle please... I was scared. Angry. Lost,” she whispered. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Then you should have come to me,” he said, meeting her gaze over his shoulder. “Not lied. Not gone behind my back like some petty court girl playing at rebellion.”

That struck deeper than she expected. Her lip trembled before she bit it back.

“I never meant to lie. I regret it now. But I couldn't just forgive you. Couldn't let go of my grudge... I wanted to hurt you. To cause you pain. To make you regret ever abandoning me and Daeron back then.”

He didn’t move. But he didn’t pull away either.

“I did not leave you by choice. You were there, in that damned throne room when your father exiled me. I was prepared to wed you. I fought for it, fought for you... I tried everything to make it happen,” he said after a moment, “But I came back for you. Came back to claim what was mine. Did I hold grudges against you for marrying my enemy, or hiding my son from me, sweetling?”

Her throat tightened. Tears shimmered behind her lashes.

“I miss you, Uncle… I miss how you used to be with me. All these years, every time I looked at Daeron’s face, I saw you. I never stopped thinking of you.” she swallowed, her voice trembling, “I hate it when you're angry with me, please don't be angry with me anymore.”

He was quiet for a beat, then nodded once, just barely.

“Me too, sweet girl. When I was bleeding in the Stepstones, it was the thought of you that kept me going.” he said. “But no more secrets. No more moon tea. No more defiance. I’m going to take care of you and you’re going to let me.”

She nodded, voice barely audible. “I promise.”

Another long pause.

He stood slowly, stepping closer. For a heartbeat, he just looked at her. Then his hand reached up, fingers brushing a tear from her cheek.

“Come here,” he murmured.

She stepped into his arms, burying her face against his chest. He held her, firm and warm, his chin resting atop her head.

They stood like that for a long moment, letting the fire warm what cold words had strained.

At last, he pulled back slightly, eyes on hers.

“Let us get some rest now,” he said quietly. “We'll talk more tomorrow.”

She slid beneath the covers beside him, the space between them once heavy with unspoken words now softening, their bodies drawn together by the quiet aftermath of the storm. As they lay there, side by side, the silence between them filled with a gentle knowing, their closeness needing no words, only the steady rhythm of shared breath.

♥️❥♡❦♥️❦♡❥♥️♥️❥♡❦♥️❦♡❥♥️♥️❥♡❦♥️❦♡❥♥️♥️❥♡❦♥️❦

Taglist: @aoi-targaryen, @claud012, @aleemendoza2425-blog

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