#Modern travelers

[useless-catalanfacts]

Roses decorating Casa Navàs (built 1901-1908) in Reus, Camp de Tarragona, Catalonia.

Photos by amiplim on Instagram.

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[yz]

Louise Bourgeois’ ‘The Couple’.

At Mass MOCA in North Adams, MA.

[k4marina]

— iii. Stormborn || Heart of the Dragon

synopsis: as plans to conqour westeros begin, daenerys and i are met with an unknown visitor

warnings: got cannon violence, war, battle nothing super graphic. this chapter follows the storylime of Stormborn (S7 Ep2) so spoiler warning ig

a/n: all dialogue italicized is in Valyrian & important note at the end!!

series masterlist || next part

4.9k word count

game of thrones x modern!fem!reader

[gif found on pinterest]

“Your Grace summons you to the Painted Table.” The servant had said after I had gotten back to my room from my morning training. Daenerys had gotten busier in the last few weeks as she planned ahead for the upcoming war. 

I found her standing by the fireplace with her back turned towards me and the table that was in the shape of the Seven Kingdoms. A few figurines of different houses of Westeros were laid out in their appropriate places. 

“You called?” 

She takes a moment to turn, collecting her thoughts. 

“In a few days Olenna Tyrell, Ellaria Sand, and Yara Greyjoy will be here to pledge their allegiance to me and further discuss our plans to take the Iron Throne.” She rounded the table, walking closer to me. “But before they arrive is there anything I must know?”

I furrowed my brows, thinking back or ahead in the future? Nonetheless, I wracked my brain for anything that would be useful. 

“Oh,” I remembered. “An ambush. There’s going to be an ambush.” 

A flash of concern comes across her face. “Who?” 

“Euron Greyjoy. After your meeting you ordered Yara to escort Ellaria and their troops to Sunspear. But along the way Euron ambushes them.” The whole ordeal was hard to read. Daenerys’ campaign was going so well until that point. 

“It was catastrophic. So many died and so many ships destroyed they were still finding wreckage when I was born.” I turned towards the map, thinking back to where we were told the ambush had taken place. 

 “Here. 50 miles north of Sharp Point in Blackwater Bay.” I pointed out. “That’s where they were ambushed.” 

“The damage?”

“Significant. Euron, Yara’s uncle, takes her and Ellaria Sand and her daughter as hostages for Cersie and imprisons them in King's Landing. And, his ships are equipped with Scorpions.” 

She takes in a deep breath, trying to keep her composure. Her eyes look down at where I’ve pointed just a moment ago, weighing her options and thinking of a new plan. 

“So what do we do?” 

I smile. “I have a plan.”

—

Rain had been pouring down for the past three days and it showed no signs of letting up all while the entire castle prepared for the arrival of Houses Greyjoy, Martel, and Tyrell. I sighed, walking away from the floor to ceiling windows of the library and back to the roundtable full of books. With the rain getting heavier Grey Worm had decided to postpone my lessons which left me in the library of the castle, hunched over a mountain of books.

“Not very fond of the rain?” Missandei asks from the table, peering over a book. “I am. Just not very fond of the dreariness of it.” I reply, sitting down across from her. “It’s interesting how something as simple as the weather can change a person's entire mood.” 

She nodded, setting the book aside. “In Essos it barely rained. Whenever it did, the sky would be clear and the temperature hot. Here, the rain is so…” 

“Heavy.” I finished off. “Whenever the weather gets like this all I want to do is sleep.” 

“It does, doesn’t it?” Missandei beams. “I just want to curl up under the hearth with a cup of tea and a good book.” 

I laughed, “after all the reading I’ve done, it’s the last thing I’d want to do when I’m relaxing.” 

We both shared a laugh before falling into a pregnant pause. I could tell that she was still apprehensive about me. When she came to me this morning, asking to join me in the library, I was shocked. Out of council meetings and occasionally bumping into each other we had barely talked. 

“You don’t trust me,” I said. 

She watched my expression as she replied. “Can you blame me?” 

I shook my head. “No, I’m glad that you are, though. I’d be more concerned if you’d blindly trust me. Especially with my.. sudden appearance.”

Out of everyone in Daenerys’ council I knew from the start that Missandei would be the hardest to build a relationship with. She’d been with Dany for years. She’d seen her at her lowest and highest. Which is why she would be one of my most important allies, other than Daenerys. 

“You also don’t trust us,” Missandei says. 

“Wrong,” I correct. “I trust Daenerys. You. Grey Worm, and Tyrion.” 

“Not Lord Varys?” She asks. 

“No. Varys is… different, in a lot of ways.” I needed to tread carefully. I couldn’t just outwardly say that he would betray Daenerys and be the reason why Misssandei would die. But, I could sew in the seeds of doubt. 

“He’s.. somewhat unpredictable.” I pursed my lips. “His origin and journey is admirable, don’t get me wrong. It’s just his methods and means and history that are a bit questionable.” 

Everyone knows that Varys has his “little birds” but they don’t know the truth behind them. Missandei didn’t say much after that, letting my words sit in her mind for the rest of the day. I knew what I had said had left her stumped and that she would tell Daenerys of our conversation. I just hoped that the seed had been planted deep enough. 

—

The storm had raged on into the night. I was getting ready to turn into the night when a servant informed me of a small council meeting at the Painted Table. Quickly, I made my way over, seeing that everyone else was already there. 

“I hope I’m not late.” I say to no one in particular. Missandei and Grey Worm give me a few nods while Tyrion and Varys watch Daenerys who had her back towards us, deep in thought. 

“On a night like this, you were born,” Tyrion remarks. 

“I remember that storm. All the dogs in King’s Landing howled through the night.” Varys adds.

“I wish I could remember it.” Daenerys says, finally turning around. Her face was somewhat stoic as she walked over to the table. “I always thought this would be a homecoming, this doesn't feel like home.”

She’s upset, I noted. Did Missandei and I’s conversation work?

“We won’t stay at Dragonstone for long.” Tyrion reassures. 

“Good.” She says, looking at the figurine on the table. “Not many lions.”

“Cersie controls fewer than half of the Seven Kingdoms. The lords of Westeros despise her. Even before your arrival, they plotted against her. Now…” Varys says. I don’t know why but the tone of his voice makes me want to jump into the sea.

“They cry out for their true queen? They drink secret toasts to my health?” Daenerys walks closer to Varys, almost as if she were sizing him up. “People used to tell my brother that sort of thing, and he was stupid enough to believe them.”

Everyone in the room watches carefully as she picks up a dragon figurine from the table. “If Viserys had three dragons and an army at his back he’d have invaded King’s Landing already.” 

“Conquering Westeros would be easy for you. But you’re not here to be the queen of the ashes.” Tyrion interjects. 

“No,” Daenerys puts down the dragon figure. 

“We can take the Seven Kingdoms without turning it into a slaughterhouse,” I say. “We already have three great houses supporting your claim.” 

“I agree,” Tyrion nods my way. “With the Tyrell army and the Dornish on our side, we have powerful allies in the south.” 

Daenerys looks at Varys. “I never properly thanked you for that.” Though, her voice lacked any bit of gratitude. 

“They joined our side, my queen, because they believe in you.” Vays says.

“You served my father, didn’t you, Lord Varys?”

“I did,” He replies. 

“And then you served the man who overthrew him?” Her tone shifted. 

“I had a choice, Your Grace– serve Robert Baratheon or face the headsman's axe.” Varys says defensively.

“But you didn’t serve him long. You turned against him.”

“Robert was an improvement on your father, to be sure. There have been few rulers in history as cruel as the Mad King. Robert was neither mad nor cruel. He simply had no interest in being king.” Varys countered. 

“So you took it upon yourself to find yourself a better one.” She pressed further. 

Tyrion, feeling the tension in the room, comes to Varys’ defense. “Your Grace,” Daenerys turns towards Tyrion. “When I was ready to drink myself into a small coffin, Lord Varys told me about a queen in the east who–” 

“Before I came to power,” Daenerys turned back to Varys, “you favored my brother. All your spies, your little birds, did they tell you Viserys was cruel, stupid, and weak? Would those qualities have made for a good king in your learned opinion?”

“Until your marriage to Khal Drogo, Your Grace. I knew nothing about you, save your existence and that you were said to be beautiful.” Varys deflects. Daenerys looks past and towards me. 

“Are you sure?” I hummed, catching everyone’s attention. Varys’ face hardened and he glared towards me. “Because from what I remember, you’ve always known about Daenerys.” 

I stepped forward, standing behind Daenerys. “Matter of fact, you were the one who planned Daenerys’ marriage to Khal Drogo with Illyrio.”

Varys opened his mouth to speak, but Daenerys beat him to it. 

“You and your friends traded me like a prized horse to the Dothraki.” 

“Which you turned to your advantage.” He was starting to panic. It was clear the Varys didn’t like to have his back against the wall. 

“Who gave the order to kill me?” 

“King Robert.” He replies quickly. 

“Who hired the assassins?” She steps closer to Varys. “Who sent word to Essos to murder Daenerys Targaryen?” 

“Your Grace,” you could hear panic set in his voice. “I did what had to be done–”

“To keep yourself alive.” Daenerys says firmly. 

“Lord Varys has proven himself a loyal servant.” Tyrion says, trying to calm the situation. 

“Proven himself loyal?” I scoffed. 

“Quite the opposite.” Daenerys, turned towards her hand. “If he dislikes one monarch. He conspires to crown the next one. What kind of a servant is that?”

“The kind the realm needs.” Varys says firmly. “Incompetence should not be rewarded with blind loyalty. As long as I have my eyes, I’ll use them. I wasn’t born into a great house. I come from nothing. I was sold as a slave and carved up as an offering. When I was a child, I lived in alleys, gutters, abandoned houses. You wish to know where my true loyalties lie? Not with any king or queen, but with the people. The people who suffer under despots and prosper under just rule. The people whose hearts you aim to win. If you demand blind allegiance, I respect your wishes. Grey Worm can behead me or your dragons can devour me. But if you let me live, I will serve you well. I will dedicate myself to seeing you on the Iron Throne because I choose you. Because I know the people have no better chance than you.”

Silence lingers in the air as Varys’ words settle into the room. The rest watched the three of us carefully, holding their breaths. 

“Swear this to me, Varys.” Daenerys’ voice is calm, and no longer holds any edge. “If you ever think I’m failing the people, you won’t conspire behind my back. You’ll look me in the eye as you have done today, and you’ll tell me how I’m failing them.” 

Feeling satisfied that he’s in the clear, Varys stands straight. “I swear it, my queen.” 

“And I swear this– if you even betray me, I’ll burn you alive.” She quickly warns. 

Varys smiles. “I would expect nothing less from the Mother of Dragons.” 

Amidst back and forth a servant had entered the room, informing Grey Worm of a visitor. 

“Forgive me, my queen. A red priestess from As’shai has some to see you.” 

––––

The doors to the throne room open, revealing a woman in red standing alone. She had red hair and dark red-ish eyes. Could this be?

The woman bows, her eyes linger on me before addressing Daenerys in Valyrian. “Queen Daeneys, I was a slave once, bought and sold, scourged and branded. It is an honor to meet the Breaker of Chains.” 

“The Red Priests helped bring peace to Meereen. You are very welcome here. What is your name?” Daenerys replies. 

“I am called Melisandre.” 

“She once served another who wanted the Iron Throne.” Varys says from behind us. “It didn’t end well for Stannis Baratheon, did it?”

“No, it didn’t” Melisandre replies with no emotions. 

Not only did it not end well for Stannis, but it also didn’t end well for his daughter who he burned alive under Melisandre’s orders, but if you ask her it was the “Lords” doing. 

“You chose an auspicious day to arrive at Dragonstone.” Daenerys turns to look at Varys. “We’ve decided to pardon those who served the wrong king.” 

Varys doesn’t reply and just bows his head, thankful that Daenerys hadn’t fed him to Drogon. 

Daenerys turns back to Melisandre. “The Lord of Light doesn’t have many followers in Westeros, does he?” 

“Not yet. But even those who don't worship the Lord can serve his cause.” 

“What does your Lord expect from me?” Daenerys questions. 

“The Long Night is coming. Only the prince who was promised can bring the dawn.”

I sucked in a breath through my nose. We were getting closer to Jon’s arrival and everything else that would follow suit. 

“The prince who was promised will bring the dawn.” Daenerys repeats. “I'm afraid I'm not a prince.”  

“Your Grace, forgive me, but your translation is not quite accurate.” Missandei corrects from the side. “That noun has no gender in High Valyrian, so the proper translation for that prophecy would be the prince or princess who was promised will bring the dawn.”

“Doesn’t really roll off the tongue, does it?” Tyrion comments. 

“No, but I like it better.” Daenerys turns back to Melisandre. “And you believe this prophecy refers to me?” 

“Prophecies are dangerous things. I believe you have a role to play, as does another. The King in the North, Jon Snow.” Melisandre explains.

“Jon Snow?” Tyrion says, shocked. “Ned Stark's bastard?” 

“You know him?” Daenerys asks. 

Tyrion nods. “I traveled with him to the Wall when he joined the Night's Watch.” 

“And why do you think the Lord of Light singled out this Jon Snow aside from the visions you’ve seen in the flames, that is?” Varys inquired. 

“As Lord Commander of the Night's Watch he allowed the Wildlings south of the Wall to protect them from great danger. As King in the North he has united those Wildlings with the northern houses so together they may face their common enemy.” 

Even after hundreds of years after the events of this time, Jon’s heroism is still marveled  upon. The North still remembers the King in the North.

“He sounds like quite a man.” I say.

“Summon Jon Snow. Let him stand before you and tell you things that have happened to him, the things that he has seen with his own eyes.” Melisandre urged Daenerys. 

Tyrion nodded, “I can’t speak to prophecies or visions in the flames, but I like Jon Snow and I trusted him, and I am an excellent judge of character.” 

“If he does rule the north, he would make a valuable ally. The Lannisters executed his father and conspired to murder his brother. Jon Snow has even more reason to hate Cersei than you do.” Tyrion added. 

She glanced up from Tyrion to me, asking if it were true. I gave her a subtle nod and she turned back to Tyrion, smiling. 

“Very well. Send a raven north.” She says. “Tell Jon Snow that his Queen invites him to come to Dragonstone… and bend the knee.”

–––

Our new allies arrived early in the morning, just as the sun rose over the horizon. I wore a black dress with a wool outer layer with silver clasps running from my collarbone to above my navel. The shoulders, forearms, and collar had a dragon scale pattern. It was simple, but still full of detail, but most importantly it kept me warm in this dreaded weather.The rain had stopped overnight, but the clouds had stayed, blocking any sunlight.

Everyone was gathered at the Painted Table, all ready and waiting for Daenerys to make her entrance. As I entered the room, conversation between our guests dulled down as they couldn’t look away. I didn’t have to look to know what they were thinking. 

Another Targaryen? 

The room was cold from the night's rain and the cold sea so I threw more wood into the hearth and stood by Missandei as we waited for Daenerys. I glanced around the room, watching as Yara, Ellaria, and Olenna talked but occasionally glanced towards me. 

“They seem to be interested in you.” Missandei comments. 

“I thought they’d have a bigger reaction,” I say. “Maybe a few jaw’s on the floor, or a few gasps of shock.” 

Missandei chuckled. “I’m afraid all you’ll get is a few stares and gossip.” 

“I guess I can take that.” I hummed. 

The doors swung open as Daenerys entered. Everyone stood at attention as she made her way to the front of the room. 

“I want to thank you all for making the journey to Dragonstone. Now, let us begin.” 

Yara was the first to speak. “If you want the Iron Throne, take it. We have an army, a fleet, and three dragons. We should hit King's Landing now. Hard. With everything we have. The city will fall within a day.”

“If we turn the dragons loose, tens of thousands will die in the firestorms.” Tyrion shook his head. 

Ellaria looked towards him with disgust, which was noticed by all. “It's called war. You don't have the stomach for it, scurry back into hiding.”

“I know how you wage war. We don't poison little girls here. Myrcella was innocent.” Tyrion bit back. 

Ellaria scoffed. “She was a Lannister. There are no innocent Lannisters. My greatest regret is that Oberyn died fighting for you.” 

“Oberyn was a grown man. He made his choice, no one can change that. Myrcella was a child, she didn’t do anything. I think we all here know that a child isn’t responsible for their fathers sins.” I said from the sidelines, giving her a pointed look. 

“That's enough. Tyrion is the Hand of the Queen. You will treat him with respect.” Daenerys reminded. Both Tyrion and Ellaria backed down, Ellaria giving me one last look. “I am not here to be the Queen of Ashes.” 

“That's very nice to hear.” Olenna said from across the table. “Of course, I can't remember a queen who was better loved than my granddaughter. The common people loved her, the nobles loved her. And what is left of her now? Ashes. Commoners, nobles, they're all just children really. They won't obey you unless they fear you.”

“I'm grateful to you, Lady Olenna, for your council. I'm grateful to all of you. But you have chosen to follow me. I will not attack King's Landing. We will not attack King's Landing.” Daenerys says, genuinely. 

“Then how do you mean to take the Iron Throne? By asking nicely?” Olenna asks. I smiled at the older womens sass. 

Daenerys looked towards me and I stepped forward. “We will lay siege to the capital, surrounding it on all sides. Cersei will have the Iron Throne, but no food for her army or the people.” 

“But we won’t use Dothraki and Unsullied.” Tyrion adds. He walks around the carved table, “Cersie will try to rally the lords of Westeros by appealing to their loyalty, their love for their country. If we besiege the city with foreigners, we prove her point. Our army should be Westerosi.” 

“And I suppose we’re providing the Westerosi?” Ellaria clarifies. 

“You are.” Tyrion reached down, picking up a figurine that resembled a Kraken in a longship. “Lady Greyjoy will escort you home to Sunspear and her Iron Fleet will ferry the Dornish army back up to King’s Landing.” He walked over to the south of the map and picked up a figurine that resembled a sun. Taking both figurines, Tyrion places them at King’s Landing. “The Dornish will lay siege to the capital alongside the Tyrell army. Two great kingdoms united against Cersie.”

“So your master plan is to use our armies? Forgive me for asking, but why did you bother to bring your own?” Olenna asks Daenerys. 

Tyrion reached down, picking up a figurine that looked like an Unsullied helmet. He walked around the map. “The Unsullied will have another objective. For decades House Lannister has been the true power in Westeros. And the seat of that power is Casterly Rock. Grey Worm and the Unsullied will sail for the Rock and take it.”

He stops in front of Casterly Rock, a lion figurine sitting on the Rock. Tyrion takes a moment before knocking over the lion with the Unsullied figurine to everyone's pleasure. 

A clam settles and Daenerys addresses the room. “There is another matter to discuss.” Everyone looks at her, caught off guard. “I’ve come to learn that there will be an ambush in Blackwater Bay led by Euron Greyjoy under Cerseis’ order.” 

“What?” Someone says. 

“Your Grace,” Varys steps forward. “Forgive me, but I’ve heard no such thing to take place.” He eyes me suspiciously. “Perhaps you’re mistaken.” 

“There have been no mistakes, Lord Varys.” Daenerys says. I moved to stand on Daenerys' side. 

“Euron will strike at night.” I explain. “His ships are equipped with Scorpions, they’re deadly and will tare your ships to shreads.” 

Yara’s face drops. “What the hell do we do? Our ships aren’t fully equipped to take on his.” Theon, behind her, is equally terrified. 

“We know,” I say, calmly. “That is why I’ll be escorting you.” 

“Forgive me, my dear, but what can you do?” Olenna asks. 

“I’ll be on dragonback. I’ll be flying high enough to go unnoticed, but close by to help when the attack happens. There will be casualties on our end, that's certain, but this is war.” The others look at Daenerys and I in shock as they try to find the words to speak.

“But you’ve never flown into battle.” Tyrion says. 

“So?” I shrug. “I’ll have to fight at one point, might as well start now.”

“My Lady, you’ve never flown out that far, you’ll be all alone.” Missandei says. 

“No I won’t. I’ll have my dragon and I’ll have our new allies besides me.” I say, nodding towards Yara and Ellaria. “When I bent the knee to Daenerys and promised to get her the Iron Throne, I meant it. This is what I have to do.”

Daenerys gives me a reassuring look. She turned towards the room. “Do I have your support?”

Yara glances between Daenerys and I. “You have mine.” 

“Dorne is with you, Your Grace.” Ellaria says. 

Lady Olenna nods her head in agreement. 

“Thank you all.” Daenerys says, somewhat relieved. “Lady Olenna, may I speak with you alone?” 

Everyone bows and leaves the room. Before leaving I turned towards Daenerys, “I’ll go get ready for my departure.” 

She nods. “Stay safe, sister.”

I smiled. “I will. When I’m back I’ll let you put a braid in my hair.” I say, leaving. 

I stepped out into the hall and down to where my room was where everything was already ready for me. When I first had my conversation with Daenerys about the ambush I had also asked for some armor to be made for me. And with the help of the servants I was able to get into it quickly. It was simple but protective and it allowed me to ride my dragon without hurting either of us. I took two daggers that I’d also had made and placed them into their places on my hip.

Afterwards I headed to where the ships were docked and where Viserion was waiting for me. I stepped outside and saw everyone getting ready to leave. I spotted Yara and Theon were still on the docks giving orders to their crew. 

“Is everything ready?” I ask. 

“It is, My Lady. We’ll be leaving shortly.” Yara says. 

“Good. You’ll leave first and I’ll be behind you not far off. We need to make it look like you’re alone and unsuspecting.” I explained. I glanced back at Theon who still hadn’t said anything, but had something on his mind. “Is something bothering you, My Lord?”

Theon looked taken aback, surprised that I was talking to him. “I’m not a lord.” 

“You’re not?” I repeat. “You are Balon Greyjoy’s son, are you?” 

He nods, not fully looking up at me. 

“That makes you Lady Yara Greyjoy's brother, yes?” 

He nods again, still not looking up. 

“Then that makes you a Greyjoy, an Ironborn. You are every bit of a lord you are now and when you were born on Pyke, do not forget that. What’s happened has happened, no one can change that. All we can do is move forward. We Do Not Sow, yes?”

He nods, finally looking up at me. 

––––

The ships had cleared out of the docks and were making their way into Blackwater Bay. I stood near the cliffs, ready to leave, when Tyrion came to stand beside me. 

“What you’re doing is heroic, My Lady.” He says. 

“I guess it is. I’ve never done anything like this.” I flexed my fingers. “My entire body’s buzzing. Was this what you felt before the Battle of the Blackwater and defeated Stannis’ army?” 

Tyrion nodded. “It did. I felt like throwing up and shitting the floor at the same time.” We both laughed. “I had to drink a few glasses of wine to calm myself down. Perhaps it would help you, My Lady.” 

I laughed, shaking my head. “No, I’m fine. I need a clear head. But, you can save me that glass for when I get back. Then we can talk about everything that needs to be talked about. Don’t you agree?” 

“I do.” 

––––

It was pitch black and cold. The heat from Viserion’s body was still keeping me warm, but the cold wind blowing past my face was getting to me. Even from up there I could hear the waves crashing down which meant that I’d be able to hear when Euron’s fleet attacked. 

“How you feeling, big guy? Good?” I asked Viserion. He let out a small purr, his entire body vibrating. I sighed, looking up at the sky above. The stars and the mood were my only light as we flew further out. 

“Okay,” I say out loud. “Let's go over our plan. When they attack our ships we fly down and torch them, but we have to be careful not to get too close or else we’ll be caught and we have to watch out for the Scorpions. One hit with that and we’ll be recreating Queen Rhaenys and Meraxes. And keep your eye out for Euron, we need him alive.” 

Viserion purrs again and I take that as a sign that he agrees with the plan. The last few weeks I’ve flown with him were good, we’d stay around Dragonstone, the furthest we’ve been was Driftmark, so this was a huge risk. 

When I had explained to Daenerys my plan she was apprehensive. It was clear that she didn’t want either Viserion or I to get hurt, but she knew that we also couldn’t risk our fleet and our army. 

A loud crash brought me out of my thoughts, and a glow erupted from below. The steady waves of the ocean now clashed against one another as Euron began his assault. 

This was it. 

“Now.” I command. 

In an instant Viserion flies down past the clouds and we’re met with Eurons fleet fighting against Yara’s. Almost instantaneously my body and mind knew what to do. Without a word Viserion flew down and prepared himself. 

“Dracarys.” 

Fire erupts out of his mouth and lights the enemy ships below us ablaze. He lets out a loud scratch, gathering everyone's attention below before striking again. It takes them a minute before they aim their Scorpions up towards us. The massive arrows fly past us as Viserion weaves between them while burning Eurons fleet. 

It doesn’t take long for the battle to die down, the air filled with the smell of burnt wood and flesh. Our fleet was damaged but Eurons was completely destroyed. Anyone who could have survived the dragonfire were either killed or taken hostage. Like planned, a Targaryen flag is flown under the Greyjoy’s on Yara’s ship, Black Wind.  

–––––

Once I’d landed back on Dragonstone I quickly said goodbye to Viserion, letting him rest, and made my way down to the docks where everyone, minus Grey Worm, would be waiting for me. 

Daenerys was first to see me, giving me a tight hug while the others nodded my way, smiling. 

“Well done, My Lady. You’ve done well.” Tyrion says. 

“Thank you, but we’ve still got work to do.” 

Right on que, a ship comes into the docks. The crew works quickly to anchor down and disembark. The Ironborn and a few Dornish step off before Theon and a few of his men step off. He’s a little bruised, and he’s got dirt and ash on his face, but overall well. He bow’s towards Daenerys and I, giving me a small smile before he steps aside and allows his men in front who are dragging a beaten up Euron Greyjoy. 

“We’ve got him, Your Grace.” Says Theon. 

“Good,” Daenerys’ eyes never left the unconscious Euron. “Bring him to the dungeons.” 

The men hull him off and everyone makes their way back into the castle. I turn over to Tyrion. 

“Let’s have that drink.”

@wotcherpeak @music-luver25 @your-favorite-god @radiantdanvers @cluelessteam @daenerys713 @ministark @laanswife @idohknow @jromanoff @bdudette @bitchyfestivalbouquet @glitteryobjecttaco @cantbecreative @lovelyteenagebeard @the0twst0shrimp0mc @sucker4seresin @marytargaryen @naneko31 @9tailedfoxfire @illsenewman @natblidaclexa @bluebirdseatblueberries

!! A/N: I will be going on a hiatus for a few months. I've got some personal stuff going on so I won't be updating any of my series including this one. I don't know when I'll be back, but when I am I'll get you guys a new chapter so hang on tight. Thank you for all the support you've given so far. I know thing are only just getting started story wise but I have a lot to do and I'll make it up to you all when I'm back.

[davidaltrath]

Wotrubakirche Photo: David Altrath

[tiredcowboyy]

The treasures of my future

I cant stop thinking ab the idea of merlin one day post s5, where they all survived, becoming really secretive and protective of his room and not telling anyone at all whats inside. Not even gaius. He even gets a lock installed and whenever anybody asks he brushes it off with jokes like “its to stop arthur from finding me” or smth.

he also unrelatedly really hates any talk of destiny, going to war, and anytime morgana mentions her fear of her magic turning her merlin slightly freaks out.

That is until one day gaius manages to catch merlin off guard while hes rushing between the main room and his bedroom and walks in.

Only to see a whole bunch of stuff that hes never seen before.

Merlin freaks out, tries to play it off as some weird experiments and stuff hes been collecting but gaius can feel it, somethings different about these items, not wrong but not right. Not really magic either.

It takes 3 weeks of gaius pestering him before merlin breaks and explains to him that he IS A TIME TRAVELER. after the battle of camlan as we know it that lead to arthurs death, merlin did wait, he really did, but in the year 2020 when arthur didnt return for yet another global crisis, merlin broke and did spell upon spell until he figured out how throw himself back in time.

And holy shit did it work well. He managed to come back just at the perfect time to change everything that needed to be done to assure that everyone lives happily and safely, and when he realises hes done it, he decides to stay in this time. See his friends and family grow old as they should have. See arthur rule as he should have. Live the life he has been craving to go back to for centuries now.

Until a month in he realises how old everything is. Sure merlin can survive without his phone and stuff but theres a few things he really misses. Like his slippers, his potato peeler, his favourite hoodie, and especially his favourite tea flavours.

So once in a while he allowed himself to go back to the modern day and bring one thing back. He started with a scented candle, because candles exist in camelot and having one here shouldn’t mess up time right? Then moved onto a herbal tea that he knows if he traveled past the boarders he may be able to find similar ingredients.

Then he brings a new release of his favourite book series because he cant help it and realises small things like that dont change time.

And so thats what he’s been hiding away in his room, all of his modern day stuff. Ranging from trinkets hes collected over his life to his favourite scarf to his stuffed lion that he won at a fair in the 80s. He doesn’t go back often, only when his tea runs out or he really needs something, he tries to limit it he really does.

It takes gaius another 4 weeks to wrap his head around it all. Another 2 weeks after that to touch merlins stuffed lion thinking it may attack him at any moment.

He makes gaius promise to not tell a soul, offering him tea bags as payment. They have a nice system from then on, gaius would try a new flavour of tea everytime merlin returned, once in a while he would also bring a modern day snack (gaius yelled when he first tried salt and vinegar crisps).

A yell which led to leon finding out. And so a cycle began.

[hawklovesskippy]

Matt supporting Jonathan, commenting on Jonathan’s Instagram post | November 25, 2024

❤️❤️❤️

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 171

Danny would like everyone to know it was a complete accident. Look, normally he was really good at not altering the timeline! He was! 

But the dude was definitely not in the right Time, and he had to get his trust which took so long, like damn he thought he had anxiety. Seriously though, kevlar in the 1700s? Yeah that wasn’t right, and Peepaw always complained about the messes that the speedsters caused, so he was trying to prevent a mess by tugging the dude away and helping him out. 

Falling in love maybe a little, was not in the plan. But honestly the man had a worse sense of self preservation than he did as a teen and was also straight up adorable, in a wet cat  who could kill you sort of way. 

So maybe he helped the dude grab a child that was going to be drowned. It wasn’t like anyone else saw them! Even if similar situations might’ve happened a few different times. 

Still, no one saw them! 

So why is there now a small cult who worships the Shadowed one and Radiant one, aka his companion (who would not give his name save for B, which, fair, probably didn’t want to accidentally wreck the timeline either) and well, him?! At least they worship them as guardians of children, but uh. Should he maybe, perhaps, fix this…? 

[just-some-random-blogger]

Accidental Targ

Scene III: i told you to hold my hand! | Masterlist

Daemon Targaryen x Modern!Reader

Summary: After coming to terms with the fact you were in King's Landing some two thousand years before your birth, you get reunited with your friend and try to manifest your way back to the present. For the meantime, Harwin Strong is your bodyguard.

Word Count: 4k+

Warnings: fem!reader, time travel au, descriptions of reader's hair, incestuous gremlin!daemon, very sus and innappropriate boss-employee dynamics, low key sugar daddy!otto hightower vibes, crackfic, typos, etc.

A/N: GUYS I DID IT. I FINISHED IT 😫 Also, its come to my attention that perhaps the way i planned out everything geographically is ??? bad but no its not just roll with it AND!! remember yall voted for him ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i have a feeling you didnt read the prompt fully but whatever HAHAHAA i honestly have no idea where i meant to take this fic, so ???? enjoy?? HAHHAAH

Shoot me if I ever say it again, but for now: gods bless capitalism, specifically for it desecrating a national landmark.

Where once I was one of the people who protested against the building of the High Garden Centre, girl, was I thankful that the old ruins of the fucking Red Keep laid there as a little ol' artsy featurette.

"What's that sound?" Daemon asks as we stand from our spot.

I turn to my side, never before so relieved to hear and see, no more than two blocks away, a rave spilling out of a club, the very one Libby and I were at before we got into this shit show. "That, my prince, is called EDM."

I hurriedly run to Libby's side to pick her up, but Daemon does that himself. He get down and pulls the blue haired woman on his back, and I help him. At the same time, I feel a buzz from my satchel.

My phone!

Daemon watches me as I frantically claw for my device. The amount of texts and call notifications that pop up on my screen is overwhelming. I decide to just let it go off and grab Daemon's arm, "come on."

We walk down from the ruins, shifting through the shrubs and foliage around it. I catch the sight a mall cop and feel agitated when he looks over. He couldn't care less though, the site was open to the public after all, and with a literal club being right there, we were the least of his worries.

We pass the rusty chain fence surrounding it, and draw near Harrenhal (the club). Once we're there, a bunch of men hoot and holler at me. I ignore them as they say something about my 'Targaryen' hair and it dawns on me they were probably calling me princess and lady because I was still in a fucking Targaryen era dress.

Still, I ignore the stupid fucks as they ask to see my pretty skirt, opting to walk faster instead. I was horrified by how loud and violent Daemon's scream was.

He shouted so gutturally that I couldn't understand a lick of The High Valyrian flaming out of his mouth. The vein on his neck popped out and I literally had to hold him back from charging and dropping Libby.

"Daemon, please!" I whimper, heart racing, "Libby's still on you-"

"Grab her and I'll fucking ram steel down- COME OVER HERE AND SAY THAT AGAIN. SAY THAT-"

Steel? I look to his belt. Fucking seven hells, he brought Dark Sister?

I look back at him with wide eyes, feeling nauseous now that I've caught how maddened he looked.

In a panic, I gently pat his face while pulling his arm back, "Daemon, please."

He doesn't look at me.

My voice gets softer and my eyes water, "Daemon, I beg you."

He huffs and clenches his jaw, still not sparing me a glance.

"We don't have time for them," I whisper and keep my hand on his cheek, "I'm just going to connect to the club's wifi from here, then I'll can call us an Ubor."

Daemon does not tear his gaze from the men, who eventually waddle away to whatever sewer they came from, still hollering bullshit as they did.

"Kesan daor nārhēdegon naejot nyetodha aōha irosh," Daemon mutters. I will not forget to slit your throats.

The relief that washed over me was unparalleled when I booked an Ubor set to arrive in 3 minutes. I whimper and rub my eyes, "okay, not long now."

Daemon finally looks at me, still visibly pissed, and adjusts Libby on his back.

I wipe my face, "we're just going to get in the c-" Fuck... I should probably prepare him for the car.

"Okay," I raise my hands, "we're going to get in a metal..." I motion to the space, "... there's going to be a- a- carriage? But with no horse... but and when I get in, you just get in with me, okay?"

Daemon's expression is now one of confusion.

I sigh and place a hand on his shoulder, "it's going to be okay."

His lips curl, "... OK."

I screw my eyes shut and shake my head rapidly, "I mean alright. Alright! ALRIGHT!"

Daemon takes in my visible frustration and nods slowly, "OK."

To be honest, Daemon was a pretty good Ubor passenger, save for the fact his sword nearly cut me, Libby, him and the fucking car seats when he tried to sit without removing his scabbard first. We were lucky the driver seemed to be used to... ren fair people.

He also seemed to be used to driving people to the ER. I was too relieved to think realize how fucked up that kinda is in the moment. Needless to say, I gave him 5 stars and an extra tip.

With Dark Sister in my grip and Libby in Daemon's arms, we finally made it to Lannister Medical Center.

The moment we get there, I run inside the ER and break down at the first nurse I see. I infodump everything, how Libby got attacked, how Harwin lost her, how some maesters tried to help us, how she lost a lot of blood, how I'm afraid she's going to die, how Daemon ended up carrying her, and I just keep going up until I saw Libby's blue hair scattered on a stretcher and the nurse told me to sit down.

I didn't have much fight in me left to argue, so I sit myself down on the bench. But then I see the nurse speaking to Daemon, who, seemed to be explaining what had happened, and I panic all over again.

Before I could stand though, another nurse was there to accommodate me. He did a checkup on me, asked me how I was feeling, and asked if I needed anything to calm down.

I told him I was fine and proceeded to answer his other questions. Daemon eventually came to my side and eyed him.

The nurse gives me a nod and offers a smile, "you seem to be physically well. Just let yourself relax. The doctors have your friend; they'll do their best to help her."

"Thank you."

The nurse nods again. He gives me and Daemon one last look before walking off.

I grab Daemon's hand once it's just the two of us. I look up and shudder, "we did it."

He looks down at me, violet eyes solemn. He brings a hand to my cheek and swipes at my cheek, "ȳdra daor limagon."

"I don't know what that means," I mumble.

"I said don't cry, pretty girl," he kneels in front of me, "worrying will not save your friend."

I stare at him, feeling my heart race and belly roll because of the look he had. He brushes my silver hair back behind my shoulders, only intensifying the flurry in my stomach. Just as I opened my mouth to speak, suddenly, my stomach growls. Oh.

Daemon turns his eyes to my belly as I clutch it.

"You want something to eat... prince?"

Daemon reaches a hand out, "lead the way."

I take his hand, grab Dark Sister, and hand it to him. He fastens his scabbard as we exit the ER and I go through my satchel, fishing for my wallet. Just before I get it, I remember that I blew most of my money on the Ubor.

"Fuck," I curse and turn to Daemon, "I don't have enough money."

Daemon rests his hand on his sword and simply stairs.

"I don't have coin," I clarify. I look around the road and figure our chances of riding a bus at this hour was nonexistent. I give him a look, "do you mind walking home with me?"

Daemon raises a brow, "as opposed to swimming home with you?"

I raise my brows and sigh, "Daemon-"

"Lead the way," he nods and points, "I am not one to tire easily."

I nod and slice through air to drive a point, "okay. No matter what happens," I reach out to him, "you have to hold my hand, okay?"

He looks at my hand then my face, his violet eyes sparkle with amusement. He chuckles but he links his fingers between mine (overkill if you ask me). I'm glad goosebumps don't form.

Daemon smiles softly, "you take me for a child, riña?"

"This child knows how to cross the street," I squeeze his hand harder than necessary and begin to walk off, "I'm not sure you do, kekepa." Grandfather.

Daemon laughs, full-on throwing his head back, "how hard is it to cross? You jus-"

His words go dry when an empty school bus passes us. He was so stunned by the yellow contraption, I had to tug his arm to continue walking.

Just then, a Megatron looking-ass truck drives down the street. I hiss and curse the 14 wheeler for emitting such horrible smoke, eyeing it as it drives away.

Meanwhile, I catch the prince's stunned reaction and almost feel bad for finding it funny. Almost.

We arrive at my apartment about 20 minutes later.

I press the elevator button and turn to Daemon, "don't put your arm between the door, okay?"

Daemon gives me a look.

The elevator opens and we step inside. Daemon gives me a look, "we have lifts you know."

I pull my head back, "you do?"

"At the wall," Daemon retorts as the elevator door closes.

"The wall?" I think for a moment, "ahh. You're right."

A beat.

I knit my brows, "wait, you've been to the wall?"

"Of course I've been to the wall."

The moment we get to my place, relief washes over me. I take my shoes off and scoop my hair in front, "fucking rip this dress off me."

Without a single thought between his brows, Daemon's reaches out to undo the ties at the back of my dress.

Just before he does this, I hear him walk in with his boots and nearly have a heart attack when he passes my threshold.

"OH, ABSOLUTELY NOT!" I turn and shove him back, "take your crusty boots off now!"

Daemon looks at me in bewilderment but walks back and doesn't protest as he removes his shoes. He places his shoes on the rack along with mine.

Not wasting time, he catches my arm and yanks me towards him. He spins me around and immediately undoes the back of my dress. I hastily begin to tug my dress down once I can.

He chuckles, "eager girl."

I rather literally jump out of my dress when I can. Pent-up rage overcomes me. I turn around and start kicking the dress away, releasing all my frustration and anger out on the thing. I curse 8th century Westeros and the Red Keep in particular and assault the object until I'm out of breath.

I proceed to jump onto my sofa and allow exhaustion to finally take over my being.

A second later, I catch Daemon's expression and realize, he probably thought he was going to get lucky when I asked him to basically strip me naked.

"Ahh," I get back on my feet, "sorry about," I point to the dress, "that."

Daemon says nothing as he steps closer. He reaches out for my hip and I swat his hand away. I shake my head, "this is my house."

He chuckles as I evade him on my way to the kitchen, which was not nearly as far as it should have been. The prince eyes the space, "yes. An impressive little room you've got." He follows after me, "I'd love to see the rest of it."

I look at him as I reach my fridge and open the door.

Daemon squints at the light that radiates on me. I cuss at the fact I only had cereal (no milk) and some vegetables that have gone bad. I grab the paper box and hand it to him. He blankly stares at it as I discard the vegetables.

Daemon's brows contort at he box, "it's cold."

I wash my hands, "yeah, refrigerators do that."

"Gra'-nola," he reads.

"Granola," I correct as I dry my hands on my shift.

I'm suddenly struck with the realization his grubby has have never seen antibacterial soap. I snatch the box from him and motion to the sink, "wash your hands."

Daemon turns to the sink and purses his lips.

For a second, I debate if he'd melt if he uses something antiseptic, but then figure I should still take my chances.

I prop the cereal on the counter and exemplify him how to wash his hands. Daemon, with slight reluctance, pumps some hand wash on his palm, opens the sink, and rinses.

I excitedly applaud him once he was done.

"A hand towel," he raises his dripping hands.

I look around even though I didn't have a hand towel. I shrug, "I usually just use my pants."

Daemon shakes his hands by the sink, "your pants?"

"Yeah. They're like clothes that you put on your-"

He grabs my shift and pulls me closer. He wipes his hands on it, "I know what pants are, princess."

I push him off and smirks as he dodges. I make a face, "well, I do so beg your pardon, your majesty."

The prince lets out a low laugh, "don't get too brazen, or I'll have you begging till you weep."

I quickly change the subject, "get that damned sword off your hip." I shoo him and rummage through my kitchen cabinets.

Daemon watches this and chuckles again. He tilts his head as he eyes my legs. He undoes his scabbard, sets it on my dining table, and pulls out a chair. He sits down just as I find a can of Sbam. Huzzah!

I grab a chopping board and open the can. A small smile spreads on the prince's lips as stares. But then, his expression drops when I shake, or try to shake, the processed meat out of the can.

I huff once I've succeeded, and I begin to cut the Sbam chunk, "you know this was in created during the war," I slice a piece, "it saved a lot of people from starvation."

"Which war?"

I freeze when he says this. I open my mouth then close it, unsure if recounting the details of world wars to him was a good idea, "you know what, never mind that."

Once I was done with the Sbam, I got a pan and heat it up. I get a plate and a loaf of bread, then place it on the table.

I click my tongue at the sight of his sword, "off the table!"

Daemon watches as I take Dark Sister and replace it with the plate and bread. I place the sword by the shoes and he takes the plastic wrapped bread. He feels the material and opens it, "what is this?"

"Bread," I retort, going back to my pan.

"No, I know that, but what's it wrapped with?"

I give him a quick look, "oh, plastic," I begin to cook the Sbam, "it's made of carbon... I think- I dunno- don't quote me on that."

Daemon opens the bag and takes a slice of bread. He pulls his had back, "it's sliced."

I beam and jump excitedly, "it is! It's sliced bread! Betty White is older than sliced bread! And so are you!"

Daemon ignores this as he sniffs the piece in his hand. He takes a bite then and makes a face, "why does it taste like that?"

"Like what?"

His brows knit and his eyes narrow, "like a pretender."

I burst into a laugh. I flip over the Sbam with a spatula, "imitation bread?"

"It wants so earnest to be bread," he pushes the loaf away and shakes his head, "but it clearly isn't."

I laugh even harder.

He snorts at my reaction. He smiles as leans back on his chair. A few moments later, he grows serious, "you ought to dismiss your royal baker."

Oh. My lips twitch and I chuckle under my breath, "ah, yes. My royal baker. Yes, I will dismiss my royal baker for making horrible sliced bread. Yes."

The Sbam was now cooked. I present it to him on a plate, "bon app-- ... I hope you like it."

Daemon leans forward to scrutinize the dish.

I press my lips into a line as I sit down next to him. I take a slice of imitation bread and fold in a slice of Sbam. I realize just how hungry I was after taking a bite. Through half-full mouth, I mutter, "it's good."

Daemon watches me and follows suit. He takes some bread and Sbam, then chomps.

I stop chewing. Wait, what if he gets an instant heart attack because his living fossil-self can't handle processed food?

He licks his lips and chews. I begin to grow more agitated as he makes a face.

"It's delicious," Daemon says, going in for another bite.

My agitation turns into shock, "really?!"

"Well, it's no roasted pork, but it'll suffice," he mutter between chews.

I let out a soft laugh and nod, "I'm glad it's enough for the prince."

"I'm honored the princess herself made it for me."

Aw, fuck. Who's gonna tell him?

There is a knock on my door. At the same time, my phone rings.

Daemon is alerted by the sound and I dash away to finally answer my phone.

"What is that?" the prince asks.

"It's my phone. Remember? You can call people with it."

Daemon narrows his eyes as I rummage my bag for my device. The knocking on the door gets louder.

I turn to the door, "just a minute."

I find my phone and feel my stomach drop at the caller ID. The banging on the door persists.

I answer the phone and head for the door, "hello?"

"Fucking hells!" the voice is worn and apparently worried, "where the fuck have you bee-"

"It's not you outside, is it?" I cut him off as I head for the door.

"What?! No! I'm in the fucking North, dammit! Your friends have been calling me nonstop, since fucking Sunday! -"

I open the door and my face falls. Standing before me is a man in a dark teal suit; his tie was loose, his stubble was thick, and he held what looked like a dozen bags in his hands.

"- You and Libby have been fucking missing for days! Where-"

"Mr. Hightower," I lower my phone as the man on the other end continues to chastise me.

Otto Hightower looks me up and down, then sighs, "out of the way."

Without another thought, I step back to let him in. He expertly slips out of his leather shoes then heads towards my sofa. He places all the bags on the coffee table. I follow after him.

I hear my name being shouted from my phone. I close the door and follow after Otto.

I listen in on the call again and I hiss when the voice pierces my ear drum, "Jon, calm down."

"CALM DOWN!? HOW CAN I BE CALM WHEN YOU WON'T TELL ME ANYTHING!?"

I begin to panic when Daemon walks over.

"Who is that?" Otto asks me. He notices Daemon, then makes a face, "who are you?"

I look at Otto, then Daemon, and dash over to the prince, grabbing his hand. I watch in real time the recognition and disbelief that floods the Targaryen's features as he watches the other slowly remove his tie.

"Libby and I got stuck in the ren-fair!" I reply to my phone.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU FUCKING CALL?!"

"MY PHONE DIED, JON!" I shout back a lie.

Otto's brow raises. He looks at me and mouths, "Jon?"

I ignore that and groan "LOOK! I'm fine! Libby's-- ... Libby's," I whisper softly, "in the ER-"

"THE ER-"

"I'M TAKING CARE OF HER!"

"WHY THE FUCK IS SHE IN THE ER?!"

"Libby's in the ER?" Otto mutters.

I raise a finger to answer my phone, "Jon, please. I'll explain everything tomorrow."

He screams my name and I have to rip my phone away from my ear again. I vaguely hear him rant about how I should explain why his sister is in the fucking ER.

"Jon, Jon, I love you but I have to go," I quip and immediately end the call. I turn on airplane mode and throw my phone on to the couch.

I release a breath and find myself pulling a smile as the man in the suit eyes me. He's about to speak, but Daemon beats him to it.

"What was that?" the prince asks, pulling me by the arm to face him.

I turn to him and make a face. It's Otto that answers for me, "her ex boyfriend."

I turn to Otto as he tilts his head and raises a brow, as if daring me to correct him.

I do, "my best friend's brother."

Daemon eyes Otto; the latter makes a face, "who used to your lover," he crosses his arms, "I'm offended you take his calls but not mine."

"And who are you?" Daemon hisses, stepping towards him.

Without missing a beat, Otto meets his gaze and scoffs, "who are you?"

Daemon's pulls his chin back and chuckles dryly. His expression screamed FUCK AROUND AND FIND OUT.

I jump in front of him, my back presses his chest. I give a nervous laugh, "Mr. High- Director- Mr. Director- sir. This is Daemon."

Otto watches as I grip Daemon's hands behind me.

"And Daemon," I barely look at him over my shoulder, "this is... my... employe-"

"Otto Hightower," he cuts me off, bringing his hand into his breast pocket, "Director and CFO of King's Landing Holdings."

I wince, fuck.

"King's Landing?!" Daemon laughs out loud.

Otto produces a business card.

"It's a company!" I turn around and wave my hands, "it's a company! An establishment!"

Daemon does not tear his eyes away from him.

"He's my employer!" I explain.

Otto offers a piece of paper between his fingers.

The prince looks at it and slightly pushes me away, "what's he doing here then?"

"That's hardly any of your business," Otto retorts, tucking his business card back into his pocket.

Daemon laughs and finally turns to me. He mutters something in High Valyrian along the lines of 'let me do something' and 'stabbing'. I frantically shake my hand and push him back.

He thankfully relents and I sit him back down on my dining table.

My relief is fleeting when I realize the only reason Daemon didn't refute was because Otto was trailing right after me. My stomach drops when I feel a hand on my back.

Otto is right behind me. He places a few of the paper bags he brought on the table. He opens them, "I bought you dinner."

I turn to him, intent to tell him he shouldn't have.

"Amongst other things," he adds.

Daemon barks, "we have dinner."

"How did you even know I was home?" I say at the same time.

Otto's eyes flick to him, to the plate of Sbam on the table. His face is blank as looks back to me. He decides to remove his coat jacket, "I suppose you'd-" eyes Daemon, "-also think a candle equal to a campfire."

"Mister Hightower," I helplessly mutter.

He hangs his jacket on the backrest. He turns to me, "and you were missing--"

My expression sours.

"-- what did you expect me to do? I obviously utilized my connections. I'm offended you'd ask me such a thing."

Daemon mutters something in High Valyrian again.

"Of course, I had come see you myself," he looks at me through his lashes as rolls up his sleeves. My eyes dart to his sleeve tattoos and arm veins. When I begin to scrutinize the hairs on his skin, I realize I've stared to long.

In a panicked frenzy, I begin to unpack one of the paper bags. He, himself, brings out a stack of food containers and places them on the table.

The smell alone makes my stomach grumble.

Otto steps away and comes back with plates and cutlery. He places one plate in front of me, and has a prolonged stare at Daemon before placing the other in front of Daemon. He says, "I would hate for prince Daemon to be reduced to eating Sbam for dinner."

My expression drops. Daemon does not move an inch.

Otto turns to me and pulls out the chair. I take a moment before sitting down, because, really, did I have any other choice?

Otto opens the containers one by one and my mouth waters as I see lobster, lamb, and lemon cakes. He serves me meat and veggies, "I would assume you're not hurt like your friend."

I watch as he places food on my plate. I gulp before responding, "I'm just... tired."

"Then, I would also assume you'll not be attending work tomorrow," he takes my hand, putting the utensils in them. He scrapes a chair to my side and sits down next to me, urging me to eat with a motion.

I look at Mr. Hightower, "oh no- I will! I will-"

"You won't," he raises a hand, "see to it you're well rested."

I turn to my plate, feeling a flurry in my stomach over his words.

"Are you not going to serve your prince?" Daemon cuts in, raising his brows.

The lamb I was about to eat drops back to my plate.

The two glare, as if willing the other to spontaneously combust.

Before anything else could happen, I stand and reach out to Daemon's plate. I squeak when both grab me by the wrist.

My throat tightens.

My heart races when Daemon stands, "release her."

Otto raises his brows and tilts his head, "sit back down."

I rip my wrists out of their grips. Thankfully, neither put up a fight.

They stare at each other for what felt like ages. My agitation rockets when I see my boss begin to fidget with his hands the way he did when he was annoyed and ready to do something drastic.

I give Daemon a panicked look and grab his wrist, "kostilus." Please.

Daemon clenches his fist.

I continue to beg him until he sits.

I squeak when he grabs my chair by the seat and pulls me towards him. He mutters, "kesan daor emagon ao va bona run." I will not have you near that thing.

I turn to Director Hightower; I could see his annoyance building.

Fuck.

"Miste-" "Enjoy your meal then," he speaks as he stands. He grabs his coat and points, "I've bought some first aid things. I'm sure your friend can help you put that away."

I move to stand but Daemon stops me. He looks up at Otto in disgust, "do mind the steel contraptions on your way out."

I snap at Daemon, eyeing him hotly. He places a hand over my legs, ensuring I do not evade him. I watch as Mr. Hightower heads for the door, and in a split second decision, I turn to the prince and kiss him on the lips.

He is evidently taken aback, but it only takes him another second to get into it. Once he's put his guard down, I rip away from him and chase after my boss just as he exits my apartment.

"MR. HIGHTOWER!"

Otto turns around. I huff as I meet him just outside my door, "I'm really sorry about him. He's... he's just like that."

"You're not responsible for the actions of others," he retorts, nonchalant.

"I know. But still-"

"You are responsible for the company you keep," he adds.

I brush my silver hair back, "and you're not responsible for my well-being."

He snorts and shakes his head, "I'm your superior."

I press my lips into a thin line, deciding not to get into this conversation right now, "that, you are, Director."

We stare at each other for a moment. I examine his well-ironed suit, noticing how he didn't bother to fix his tie or buttons any more.

"I'll-"

"Is he not-" Daemon kicks the door open.

My eyes widen, "DAEMON-"

"-fucking gone yet?!" he points Dark Sister in an offensive stance. I yelp when he swings his weapon and scratches the door.

Otto's fight or flight instincts kick in and he takes flight down the hall.

"DAEMON-" I scream. I duck down and grab him by the torso, "STOP IT!"

Daemon screams out in High Valyrian. He laughs and lowers his sword, "yeah, you better run."

[nobeerreviews]

Architecture is the very mirror of life. You only have to cast your eyes on buildings to feel the presence of the past, the spirit of a place; they are the reflection of society.

-- I. M. Pei

(Warszawa, Poland)

[photos-of-everyday-life]

Bald.

Glasgow, 2024.

[useless-catalanfacts]

Casa Coll i Regàs, a house built in the Catalan Modernist style in Mataró (Barcelona Metropolitan Ambit, Catalonia). It was designed by the Catalan architect Josep Puig i Cadafalch and built in 1898.

Photo by nurigari on Instagram, Visit Mataró, and Casa Coll i Regàs on Facebook.

[k4marina]

— Prologue: Dragonstone|| Heart of the Dragon

synopsis: a trip to Dragonstone goes a little wrong, or does it?

game of thrones x modern!reader

4.5k+ word count

sereis masterlist || next part

"Why are we doing this during the hottest day of the year, again?" Daeron mutters, using the brochure that was given to us at the beginning of the tour as a fan.

If I could, I would've replied, but the heat was also getting to me, draining away my energy. And, on top of the scorching heat, I'd just finished the last of my water. I pursed my lips together, the line wasn’t that long and I’m sure I can buy another overpriced water bottle after we visited the caves.

The group tour guide turned back to us, just as exhausted, and somewhat bashful. He said something, but I couldn't be bothered with it as I was too focused to not tip over from the heat. It was probably something like “only a few more minutes and we’ll be outta the heat, folks,” with an awkward smile or something.

The line to the caves under the castles was stupidly long, but it's no surprise. So much history was in those caves and so many mysteries had come full circle there. And, the deeper they dug, the more they uncovered the history of the Targaryens that lived there from when Aenar Targaryen moved his entire family to Dragonstone after his daughter, Daenys “the Dreamer” dreamed of the Doom of Valyria. 

"Who's idea was it to come here for our research trip?" I didn't bother looking over at him, knowing that I'd be blinded by the sun that shone directly behind his big head.

“Shut up. Your voice is giving me a headache.” I quipped. “Besides, almost everything on this island is connected to the Targaryens. It might come useful when we have to write our research paper.”

The line moved up until our group was at the front of the line. A small group of students, along with Daeron and I, were on Dragonstone for our research projects. Some of the other students had decided to stay in Kings Landing or go to other parts of Westeros for their research.

Everyone was to spend a week in their respective areas and gather all the information they needed before heading back to Kings Landing to write and then later present their topics. Some chose to do it themselves whilst others, like us, decided to go with someone else.

Today was the first day of our stay on Dragonstone. Daeron and I had decided to check out the caves and the island's beaches before we would explore the labyrinth-like castle.

I rubbed the side of my head, feeling a headache approaching. My hand reached up to my necklace that rested on my chest. The chain was long enough for it to hang in the dip of my breast.

Not only did I come here for my project, but also for me. The necklace around my neck has been in my family for generations, but no one knows from where. It’s made entirely of Valyrian Steel, which was rare back in the day, and even rarer now.

As a child, I didn’t think much of it. It wasn’t until I grew older and more curious that I started asking questions. First to my family, but all I got was even more confusing answers that led me nowhere. Then I turned towards the internet, scouring for hours until I had found it.

On the official Dragonstone website, I found pictures of the caves under the castle and possibly under the entire island. On one of the walls was a crude hand drawing of my necklace. Two dragons around a sword with a ruby in the middle –though, the ruby was replaced with a red dot. Regardless, the cave painting matched. 

The line moved up and Daeron gently pushed me up while I was lost in my thoughts. “You good?” He asks. I nod, “Yeah. The heat’s just a lot.” He gives an understanding look. Once the tour guide is given the green light, he begins to lead up to the entrance of the cave.

"Ready?" Daeron asks. I nodded and we begin walking. Once we entered the cave, my jaw was on the floor. I had seen pictures of the caves, but seeing it in real life was far more beautiful.

The deeper we got we could see the cave paintings done by the Children of the Forest which Daenerys and Jon had found. As the guide droned on about the cave paintings, I could feel my headache intensify. Why was it so hot in here? 

The deeper and deeper we went into the caves, the worse it got. My chest started to feel heavy. I struggled to put one foot in front of the other. The back of my throat burned and I felt like throwing up, but I pushed forward. 

My eyes raked the the cave walls, Where was it? Finally, I was able to see it. The markings were next to a few unknown ones. A sign with some information was hung up next to it. Despite my head pounding I was still able to read the bold words. 

Unknown markings made by who researchers believe are the Targaryens. The paint used seemed to be as old as when Aenar Targaryen moved his family to Dragonstone.

By the time I finished reading, I could feel my head pounding so loudly in my ear. It felt like an ice pick was being hammered into the side of my head. I could hear muffled voices call out, but to who I didn’t know. The room started to spin and a ringing sound filled my ears.

A hand, most likely Derons, reached out and turned me around. I could see his mouth moving, but no words coming out. My chest felt like it was overheating while my head continued to throb. Everything turned blurry and then it went black.

When I woke up, I was still in the cave. The cold stone floor had helped with bringing my body temperature down. And, my head didn't hurt anymore. After getting up, I looked around the cave. It was darker, and quiet.

Where was everyone?

Carefully, I made my way out of the cave. It was harder to walk out of the cave and the spotlights that were on the walls weren’t on. Once I was outside I was met with the night sky.

All the tents and other buildings around the beach were gone, as if they'd never been there.

Okay, this is weird.

"Hello?" My voice came out horse like I hadn’t spoken in a long time. "Hello? Is anyone there? Daeron?" 

My feet moved on their own and I tried to find someone, anyone. But there was no one. How could a populated area with tents and buildings disappear within hours?

Retracing my steps, I found the stairs that would lead me back to the Help Center that were posted around for lost tourists, but like the beach, there was nothing. Matter a fact, even the lamppost that were posted into the ground, the banners, the signs –everything was gone.

"What the actual fuck?" Panic creeped up and I could feel my heart thumping in my ears. "Gods, If this is some kinda sick fucking joke..."

At this point, I was running towards the castle. For what? I didn't know, but surely there had to be something there. The grand doors seemed to be closed so I tried to find another way in. I guess you could say I found something like a side door that took a little force to open. 

The inside of the castle was grand. High walls, banners held high, candles and lamps lit all around. Truly, it was amazing. As I was gawking at the architecture I failed to notice unknown voices walking towards me. 

“Halt!” Two unknown men dressed in what looked like armor cornered me, pointing their spears at me. “State your name! Who are you?” 

I stuttered out my name, raising my hands up so they could see I wasn’t a threat. “I’m not going to do anything, I swear.” 

The two men shared a look and a few hushed words before one of them walked over to me, grabbing my arm roughly and pulling me along. 

“Ow!” I tried to pull back, but his grip was too strong. “What the fuck dude. I said I wasn’t a threat.”

“Khaleesi will decide if you are or are not a threat.” The man who wasn’t holding onto me said. 

Khaleesi? What Khaleesi?

“Oh please don’t tell me I just walked into those real-life roleplaying things.” I groaned, earning side eyes from both of the men. 

They led me down a series of hall ways, each one intricate as the other until we stood outside of a set of polished stone double doors. Another pair of men dressed just like the cosplayers that brought me here stood in front of the doors. Without having to say any words they opened the grand doors. 

Slowly, I could see the inside being revealed. 

There, on the elevated platform stood the Throne of Dragonstone, where all the Targaryen heirs of the Iron Throne sat as they took the title “Prince of Dragonstone.” A light push brought me back as I was dragged closer to the throne. 

“Khaleesi,” the guard called out. Before I could ask who they were speaking to, an unknown voice answered. 

“What is it?” 

Light footsteps were heard from behind a wall and a woman emerged from behind it. Except it wasn’t just any woman. Even a child would know who she was. Everyone around the world knows her. 

She was Daenerys Targaryen. 

Mother of Dragons. 

The Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea.

The Unburnt.

The Breaker of Chains. 

I could feel time slow down as I watched her walk over to the throne and sit down. My blood turned cold as she sat in front of me. 

No.

No.

She’s dead.

This can’t be happening.

It’s not possible.

It’s not. I have better chances of reviving dragons than traveling back in time-

“What is this?” Daenerys eyed me, confused at my appearance and why I was even here before looking at the two men. 

“We found this unknown woman wandering around the castle, Your Grace.” 

She eyed me, as if wanting me to plead my case, but the words died in my throat. Why wouldn’t they when Daenerys fucking Targaryen was right in front of me. A million thoughts ran through my head, but I couldn’t rack my brain to find one answer. 

Daenerys squinted before speaking again, this time directly towards me. “Who are you?” The High Valyrian rolled easily off of her tongue like a true Targaryen. Those three words held so much power and conviction, like a true Queen.

“Y/n Vellarys!…” I rushed to reply in Valyrian. 

“You speak good Valyrian.” She praises, but it's quickly pushed away. “But that doesn’t explain what you are doing here.”

What should I do? I bit my bottom lip as nervousness filled my body. 

Knowing that if I lie, I’ll be fileted, I took a deep breath before responding. “I don't know. I.. I,” I paused, not knowing if I should continue. If this was real then I only wanted her to know, “Can we be alone.. please?” 

The two men besides me visibly tense up, but don’t speak up. Daenerys looks down at us, seemingly in thought before she nodded. The two men bow before turning around to leave. The double doors closed with a loud thud. 

“We’re alone now, you may continue.” 

I nervously swallowed. Here we go. “This might sound weird, but.. I don’t know how I got here. I.. I woke up in the caves under the castle… alone.”

Daenerys’ face stayed neutral as I relayed the information. She seemed to take some time to process what I had just said. “Do you think I’m a fool?” 

I could feel my heart fall all the way down. Fuck.

“You woke up in the caves alone?” She repeats. “Not even a child would come up with such a stupid story like this.”

“N-n-no, Daener- I mean, Your Grace. I swear to the Gods that I’m telling the truth. I have no reason to lie to you. Especially when you could get rid of me with your dragons in a second.”

She seemed to mull over my words, as if weighing her options. “Alright, let's say you’re telling the truth. Your story still doesn’t make sense. How do you just “wake up” in a cave?” 

Now or never, I guess. 

“Actually,” I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. “I’m not from here. I come from-” The future. Fucking hell, how cliché. “-I come from a different… time.” 

Daenerys squinted and I could see the clogs in her brain moving. “You mean you’re from the future?” 

Jeez. Ripped the bandage right off. 

“Well –uh, yes,” I say. “I was touring the caves and then I –I fell unconscious or something, I still don’t know, I just know that when I woke up I ended up here.” 

I let out a frustrated sigh. What if this was just a dream and that all of this is just my imagination running wild. 

“That necklace.” 

Huh? What is she talking about? 

 I looked up, confused. “What?” 

She pointed towards my chest. I looked down and I could see my necklace was out. “What about it?” I asked.

“Where did you get it?” 

“It’s mine.” I replied. “It’s been in my family for generations. Why?” 

Now it was Daenerys’ turn to look a little nervous. 

“I’ve seen it in my dream.”

“Your dream? Like, one of those Dragon Dreams?” I ask. She gives a nod, “While we were sailing to Dragonstone I had a dream of a woman with silver hair and that necklace. Because I couldn’t see her face, I thought it was me. I’ve turned the treasury over looking for them; however, it seems that I dreamt of you.”

Ho-ly Fuck. Daenerys’ dreamt about me. What the hell. I’m about to throw up. 

“What?” Now it was my time to be skeptical of what was being said. “You dreamt about me and my necklace?”

She nodded. “It seems odd, but a Dragon Dream has never been wrong.”

“Ture, but that still leaves a lot of blanks.” My hand subconsciously went up to hold my necklace while I tried to think back. 

The deeper I walked into the cave the more my head started to hurt, but that was most likely because of dehydration… probably. But then there was a burning feeling on my chest when I looked at the symbol on the wall that matched my necklace and the burning feeling got even more intense and it felt like it was about to burn my skin-

“Fuck.” I groaned, letting go of the necklace. The outburst made Daenerys frown, “Are you alright?”

I looked down at my hands and at my necklace before looking into her eyes. “I think my necklace tried to burn me, like last time.” 

“Last time?” She frowned. “How can a necklace burn someone?”

“I don’t know. It happened before I passed out in the cave.” I let out a sigh. “Gods, what is going on.” 

“It seems that this was the God's doing,” Daenerys says, as if it was a fact. “They’ve brought you here.” 

“The Gods?” I repeat. Sure, in some sense they did bring me here. “But why?” 

“That may be something for you to find out.” Daenerys stood from the throne, walking down the steps until she was right in front of me. “I was lost once, but then the Gods gifted me my children to show me my true purpose.” 

“The Iron Throne.” I thought back to my history classes where I learned that for the fight for the Iron Throne, Daenerys lost her life as she fell into what historians said was “Targaryen Madness,” but I’ve always felt that there’s more to it. 

“It’s late, I’ll have the servants bring you to a spare room for you to rest in for the night.” As if on cue, the guards from before stepped up to us. “We can talk further tomorrow morning.”

Daenerys turned to leave from where she came from. The guards bowed as she left. Once she was gone they brought me to a spare room somewhere in the castle, this time without having to pull me around. 

The hallways were nearly empty, meaning there weren’t a lot of people living here or servants working in the castle. The most I’d seen was guards posted around. Once we were in front of two thick double doors the guards stepped back waiting for me to open them. 

It took a little force to open the door, but once I was inside, my jaw was on the floor. Despite everything being made of stone, the walls were covered in rich tapestry. There was a giant bed with lavish looking furs laid atop the bed and maroon bed sheets. 

Behind me, a servant walked in with a few sets of clothes and laid them on the bed. “We’ve prepared you some clothes,” she said. “Would you like to change now or take a bath?” 

As if on cue, I could feel how dirty I was since I was practically on the cave floors for Gods knows how long. 

“A bath would be fine, thank you,” I replied. It honestly felt weird watching servants work. Not that it was bad, just the fact that in the modern day you don’t have them. Sure maybe someone who cleans your home or makes you food, but servants?

Once they had pulled out the massive tub and manually poured in the hot water they led me to the tub. One of their hands went up to my shirt's edge and the other to my pants. 

“W-wait!” They all looked at me confused. 

“Is everything alright, My Lady?” One of the servants asked. 

No it’s not. You’re taking my clothes off. And sure, it’s your job to do practically everything for a highborn, but that ain’t me. 

“Uh, there’s no need for… all of this. I can do it myself.” 

“Are you sure?” Another girl asked. “It’s our duty to serve you.” 

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure.” I replied awkwardly. “Just not really used to all of… this. Um, anyways I can take it from here. You guys can go…” 

I internally cringed at my words. Gods, I sounded like an idiot, but could you blame me? 

The girls reluctantly agreed, leaving me alone in the room. Once they were gone I let out a sigh and began to undress myself. The water was hot, but it was fine since I practically liked showering in lava every morning. 

Settling into the tub I finally relaxed. This entire thing was just so… bizarre. At first, I thought it was some sort of dream, but that searing pain I felt wasn’t something I could just imagine. 

My necklace burned me. 

And it burned me when I first saw the markings on the cave walls. I looked down at my chest and hand, but saw nothing. 

Okay, weird. 

That aside, why was I even brought here? Why me? What do I have that made me so special that I had to be flung into this era of time?

“Think, y/n, think,” I muttered to myself. The dream. Daenerys’ dream about the necklace. But wait, no history books said anything about her having a dragon dream. Could this maybe be connected?  

For the next hour, I mulled over my options while I soaked in the tub that had turned lukewarm. Having enough, I got up and grabbed the towels that the servants had thankfully set close for me. 

The clothes that they had laid out for me were a bunch of nightgowns. Thankfully, they were my size. I decided to wear a simple white nightgown. 

Laying under the mountain of covers and blankets, I finally let myself completely relax, falling asleep. Hopefully tomorrow’s discussions can help this situation get better or at least easier. 

I woke up to the sun glaring down into my face. Groaning, I turned to my side, hoping to get some more sleep. But the damage was done. 

I could hear light shuffling in the room and things being moved around. When I opened my eyes, I was nearly flash-banged. All the windows (that are floor to ceiling length) were opened and the curtains were drawn back. 

A few servants from last night and a few new faces worked around the room. I sat up in bed, rubbing my eyes, catching the attention of one of the girls. 

“Good morning, My Lady. Did you sleep well?” 

“Morning,” my voice came out a little low and rough. “What’s going on?” 

“We’re getting you ready for the day,” the girl replies, matter of factly. “You will be having your morning meal with the Queen. We’ve already drawn you a fresh new bath and arranged a new set of clothes.” 

I looked at where the tub was last night, nothing that was gone, along with my clothes. 

“Where are my clothes?” I asked. 

“We’ve sent them to get washed,” the servant replied. “My Lady, if i may…” 

I nodded for her to go on. “We’ve never seen such clothes like yours before. They remind us of what the men wear however, yours are a bit more.. different.” 

“Oh, that. They’re just something that I made.” I lied. Thinking back to last night, I’m confused I didn’t get as many weird looks as I should have wearing my jeans and shirt. It's not really the typical Westerosi fashion for this time. 

“The bath is ready.” Another girl says. 

Reluctantly, I got out of bed, following them to another room adjacent to this one. The room was a massive bathroom that could function as a bathhouse. 

There was a massive tub nestled into the floor. The windows were also huge but a little higher up, letting in some natural light. I could tell the water was hot just by how much it was steaming. 

Carefully, the servants began to undress me. They led me into the water and began adding what I can only assume are oils and salts. Truthfully, it felt like I was at some fancy spa with how they washed my body and hair. 

Once that was done, they helped me into a beautiful white dress with a dark teal and gold design. I felt like a model wearing such a beautiful dress. I let my hair down, not wanting it in any style (or knowing any styles of this period). 

A servant walked me to the dining room where Daenerys was waiting for me. She wore a light blue dress with her hair braided and her three headed dragon pin.  

“Good Morning,” she greeted. 

“Morning uh, Your grace.”  I replied. “Sorry, I’ve never called anyone “your grace” before.” 

She brushed it off, motioning for me to take a seat next to her at the table where the food was already prepared. 

“How did you sleep?” She asks, beginning to eat. 

“Fine, surprisingly.” I reached down to grab a fork for my food. “How about you?” 

Was I really making small talk with Daenerys Targaryen? 

“Mine as well,” she smiled. “I was hoping we could talk a little before I had to go meet my small council.” 

“Okay, what did you want to talk about?” I wanted to smack myself. Every time I spoke it was full of nerves and anxiety. 

“Let’s start with you. Your name and where you’re from.” Daenerys says confidently. “Judging by your looks, you’re of Valyrian descent.” She says, eyeing my silver hair. 

“Yes,” I nodded. “My family moved from Volantis to the Eyrie. My family is known to be of the Old Blood in Volantis.” 

“The Old Blood?” Daenerys says, surprised. 

The Old Blood are a group of people in Volantis that have proven to be the last remaining families of Valyria. They live in a perched area of the city that only they can walk. All the families in that area still continue their Valyrian traditions and practices, just minus the dragons. 

I nodded, “My father is the youngest of four sons, so he thought ‘why not move to westeros and start something there?’ knowing that he wouldn’t have to really carry on the family name.” 

“And your family name is Vellarys?” She recalled from last night. 

“Yes. We’re known for our jewelry making in Volantis. That’s why my father moved to Westeros, to open a shop there without having to take over the business and stress like his older brother.

“As for myself, I have two older brothers. One is working to be a doctor,” Daenerys frowned at that, confused, “uh, it’s like a Maester. The other is helping my father run the shop.” 

“And what about yourself?” 

“I’m in school. I go to the University of Kings Landing.” 

“The.. University of… Kings Landing?” 

“Well, after the monarchy was sorta let go, they turned certain parts of the Red Keep and other castles into Universites -places to go for higher studies, like the.. Citadel for example.” 

Daenerys nods, understanding some of it. 

“I study the era of The Game of Thrones as well as Targaryen History.” 

“The Game of Thrones?” She repeats. “What is that?” 

“It’s, uh, what we call this time period. It ranged from the death of King Robert to,” the death of Daenerys Targaryen, “to now, and a little later. We look into how the events after Robert’s death played out and how people fought for the Iron Throne.” 

“Like a game.” She says. 

I nodded. “Yes, like a game. There’s this quote that Cersie Lannister said to Ned Stark that summed it up, “When you play the game of thrones, You win or you die,”.”

“I see,” Daenerys looks down at her plate in thought. “And what about me?” 

Oh fuck. 

“What about you?” I say, acting innocent. 

“What happened to me?” 

I purse my lips together. Should I say it? I mean, it’s a good segway to what I want to really say… if this part goes well. 

“You…” I nervously swallowed. “You die… before you could even claim the throne.” 

The fork in her hand hits the ceramic plate with a loud clunk. 

“What?” 

Nervously, I looked into her. “You were killed… after you burned Kings Landing to ashes.” 

She frowned. “You're lying. I would never do such a thing. Me? Burning down Kings Landing? 

And the Red Keep, but I’ll keep that to myself. 

“I’m not lying, Daenerys. After you died, Drogon picked you up and flew you away. We still haven’t found your or his body.” 

Daenerys' hands started to shake at the information I had just thrown at her. Carefully, I placed mine over hers. 

“Daenerys,” I said softly. “Breath. You’re fine, nothing has happened so far.” 

Slowly, I could feel her hands stop shaking and her breathing seemed to steady. 

“What do you mean so far?” 

I gave her hand an encouraging squeeze although, I can’t tell if it was for me or her. 

“Meaning, I can help you.” 

She looks at me, puzzled. 

“Daenerys, I can help you take the Iron Throne.” 

okayyyy so it's finally here after many rewrites. let me know if you guys liked the first person POV. its my first time writing it like this, typically i do second POV. more to come in later chapters. also, i will be changing a few things, nothing major. one personal head cannon that i have is that jon isn't really named aegon, but jaehaerys. makes a lil more sense in my brain. also, i'll maybe be using some info from the books. and if you guys have any suggestions with y/n's character and other stuff please feel free to let me know. don't worry there will be more story and character development in the coming chapters.

[davidaltrath]

Concrete Villa Photo: David Altrath