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zephyrrr101 · 8 months ago

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Not like her

Pairing: Daemon x niece reader

Warning: Targcest/incest, DUBCON?, size kink and breeding kink light, mention of somnophilia, slight manipulation, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, first intercourse, sweet Daemon, Daemon being a soft uncle hubby.(Because I simp) All ASOIAF warnings. MINOR DNI (but do with hungry bitches care?) also not proof read. High Valyrian translation might or not be wrong.

You looked around the Throne Room which had now was filled with hoards of people, All the nobles have made there way to King’s Landing to attend your sider sister, Rhaenyra’s wedding to your cousin Ser Laenor Velaryon. It was a match made out of convenience, you had known that.

Father had not told you much, nor had your maids and lady companions, all having been sworn to silence by your father. But it didn’t take much for news to not get to your ears. Red Keep was never able to keep gossips.

Apparently, Rhaenyra had been seen beyond the walls of Rad Keep during hour of wolf with someone in unseemly situations. There were no proofs that anyone had, but it had been enough for your father to set this betrothal to push the rumours away.

They weren’t rumours.

It was your sister’s sworn shield who had been the man who Rheernyra had shared her bad with that night. She had spoke to you of this a week after, since you broth were always close, your mother’s death bringing you even closer. You did not mind. Several lords went around having bastards, women too laid with men before marriages, you knew of it, why must Rhaenyra be kept from something she wanted But your sombre mood was not for your sister’s situation. Rhaenyra was strong and she welcomed things in her life with courage, even this marriage. Your issue was that your father, after he had talked with Rhaenyra, had a conversation with you too. You will be wed by the next year to a man of your father’s choosing. He did not seem to want another one of his daughters going and finding trouble.

You had hoped your father would give you the same liberty of choosing your husband that was given to Rhaenyra. You would not had minded choosing, you weren’t picky. You were a second daughter, getting many in a good family was always supposed to be your job. But you would have rather preferred if you could have a little bit of choice in it.

Thank you, Rhaenyra, I love you. But you fucked it up for me, Fuck you.

“Something on your mind, sweet niece?” You turned to Daemon who sat on your right. You were given the seat beside the Queen Alicent, not your preferable place, things between you and Alicent were awkward. She was your sister’s friend turned step-mother. You didn’t talk much, it was weird.

You sighed, turning to your uncle, who had come back from his trip to Stepstones a few days back. He had proven is determination when it came to the barren land. He had won it and now with your father’s blessings looked after the protection of Westros from there, visiting the place some times. “Father is setting up my betrothal.”

Daemon frowned, you could tell he was not happy, Daemon had been a constant in your and Rhaenyra’s life even of he was banished half of the time, more to you. While Rhaenyra had your father, you had your uncle. “Who?”

“I cannot say,” You fiddled with your cup of wine, you had lost your focus, drifting off in solace of solitude. “Father has not told me. But he says I will be wed by this time next year.”

Daemon did not reply. And you turned your attention to middle of room, Rhaenyra and Laenor had started to dance. You tipped your cup up, finishing your wine in one go you did not notice anything after that.

You did not notice how Daemon’s hand clenched around his cup as he glared at anything he could see, how his lilac eyes would fall over you, locking at your distressed race, how he counted each line that marred your forehead, how your tongue had slipped out of your mouth to catch the stray drop of wine and how licked it, your red tinged tongue moving over your lips wetting them. And you certainly did not notice the way he gripped Dark Sister’s pommel when Ser Harwin had come to ask you for a dance and you had agreed, leaving with the large dark haired knight.

No you did not.

You danced with other lords but again found Your way to Ser Harwin, or he did to you.

He spoke something to you, learned down so only you could hear him, Daemon could only imagine how he would be taking in your scent of jasmines, such a calming fragrance.

You nod.

He could not hear you from the distance but he had been around you for a lot longer to imagine how sweet your laughter must be in Strong knight’s ears.

This was it.

Daemon slammed his cup on the table, gathering attention of a few people around him and walked away, his brother’s cautioned words, blurred in his ears.

Ser Harwin was telling you about his tales of City Watch, how he sometimes sees the most hilarious things. Your favourite being the one where a certain lord was hit and thrown out of a pleasure house by one the workers and Ser Harwin had found him crying drunk with a bruised cheek. You had not noticed Daemon’s presence until he asked Ser Harwin if he could have a dance with you.

Who was he to say no to a seasoned warrior and dragon rider who could burn him to ashes if declined what he wanted.

“Ziry issa?” Is it him? Daemon asked you, you had well spotted the frown on his face and anger that was flowing in his lilac eyes. Something you could not comprehend.

“Skoros?” What?

Daemon takes your hand his, you let him guide to where ever he wants to, which happens to the farthest part of the dancing area, lesser people are here and you understand that whatever it must be that he wants to speak of he doesn’t want other to hear.

“Harwin,” He looks away from you and you follow his eyes, finding them on your father. It takes a moment for you to realise what he is asking.

“gimin daor,” I don’t know. You sighed. “It doesn’t matter does it, kepus? I must trust Father in his choice.”

“Your father’s choice?” He whispered, you could feel his breath tickling on your neck. “Look at this choice of his. Laenor is a good man but he will bore your sister senseless. And let us not forget his tastes.”

“It’s not that I don’t wish to marry, kepus,” You mutter, you suddenly found his doublet more interesting than the music or the dance. “But...”

Daemon hummed, his hand softly drew circles on the small of you back, you felt a shiver going through you.

“I understand politics but... I’d rather not be used as a pawn for gain without my say. At least without me knowing who I will be tied to for my whole life. I love my father, I really do,” you sighed, your eyes fell on your father and Alicent sitting beside him in a green dress. This wedding looked more like a disaster. “Look how miserable Alicent is. I do not wish to be another Alicent, kepus.”

Daemon listened to every word that left your mouth keenly. He embedded all of them in his very soul. His niece, his sweet and young niece who had been nothing but kind to him despite everything he might have one that could have hurt her. Even when his brother had sent him away for giving a moniker to his dead nephew all those years before. She had come to say good bye to him. Told him how she did not care for a boy who she didn’t even knew and wished him a safe journey, His little doll who always came to him when she didn’t like the braids her maid would put in her hair and have him redo everything.

I do not wish to be another Alicent, kepus.

And he imagined you, sitting beside some very aged lord, with life span of no long than a few years, who didn’t seem to be caring about anything but the cup of wine in his hands, children standing beside you and one in your hands, all while you looked sullen.

No. He couldn’t let it happen, Not when he knew how marriages like that ended up being.

He smiled at you, one his hand grabbing yours and other one caressing the soft skin of your cheeks, He looked at you with such intensity, with such fondness that you couldn’t help but feet the heat crawling up your neck.

“You won’t end up like her.” He told you and you knew better than anyone that his words were not hollow. It was an unsaid promise.

The wedding did turn out to be a disaster. Rhaenyra’s sworn shield had murdered Ser Joffrey Lonmouth, an event which had led to a rushed marriage between Rhaenyra and Laenor. As soon as the chaos erupted, your uncle had pulled you away towards the doors of the hall since you both were closer to it than the royal table.

The stress had caused your father to collapse and another thing had come to light some disease was eating him alive and now he had lost his arm.

In all, the day had been a like riding a wild dragon.

From what you could tell it was past midnight. And you could think of nothing better than trying to put yourself to sleep. It hadn’t taken much too. As your head hit the pillow and darkness engulfed you.

You had been sleeping deeply and peacefully. The tiring and stressed moments of the wedding had lulled you like an infant after having drunk a tummy full of milk.

You could not understand what it was that had woken you up. You felt hot. Surely it wasn’t winter and days in King’s Landing were hot sometimes but not so much to cause her such bother. Though it was not enough to cause you to get out of your sleepy reverie.

You let out a whine when you felt something moving over you leg and your shoulder, making you pull your leg away and shake your shoulder to put whatever was causing you discomfort away. The point between your legs felt wet, making you a bit worried about your moon blood but you were too far gone in sleep to care.

It was the wine you had drank like water before going to sleep. Curse the fucking thing.

It was a sound, something like a chimes that hit each other when wind flowed, that made you snap out of our daze a little bit. You forced you eyes your to open as much as they could which wasn’t a lot. You were drunk and sleepy. But you could recognise that voice and figure even in your blurred sight.

“Kepus?”

Daemon smiles at you. There were very few people who had seen him really smile genuinely. You were one of them. But this smile was different. There was something different about it. You couldn’t comprehend it.

Daemon hushed you, his hand softly laying you back again, It was then when you slowly started to come to sense. He was hovering over you and you felt his other hand between your legs, right on your...

“Kepus, what are you doing?” You almost shrieked, understanding what was going on, “Kepus, what—"

“Be quiet, sweet girl,” Daemon whispered, and leaned down, his lips falling on your cheeks, so, so close to your lips. His fingers circling your cunny, a place that was not supposed to be bare to anyone but your husband. “You didn’t want to be a pawn, right?”

“But-but Daemon—” whatever you were thinking of saying was long forgotten when you felt his his finger entering you, your breath hitched at the foreign sensation. “We shouldn’t.” You whispered, you weren’t sure if you had spoken it or if it was in your mind only.

“And why?” His voice low, you felt as if you were speaking of some centuries old secret with him. “I promised you that I wouldn’t let you be married just like this. I will keep my promise, sweet niece.”

“Daemon,” you whispered, your denial was dying on your lips with him adding another finger in you, his thumb rolling around your nub and his lips on your neck. He hummed and those were the sweetest vibration you had ever felt on your skin, a shiver passing from the junction of your neck and shoulder to your core. Some cold wind had not caused this. This you know. It was him, your kepus who did this.

Your hands went to his shoulders, bare shoulders, he did not have his tunic on. Your skin touching his warm one. He was always warm. Like a dragon. “Please,” you gasped feeling his fingers go deep in you and you squeezed his shoulders.

His fingers moved faster in you, his teeth biting at your ear, “Is this what you are asking, sweetling?”

If only you knew what you wanted. Whatever it was, you didn’t want to let go of this feeling. “Yes-fuck-kepus!” You moaned feeling his fingers curl in you. And then another on being added.

“Don’t worry,” Daemon kissed your forehead, and you realised how really small you were in front of his tall stature. Even laying he could easily reach you forehead when his fingers were far down. “Kepus will take care of. Always.”

You knew he would. Mayhap, it was that fact that you had not called out for someone.

You felt your lower abdomen clenched, you weren’t sure it was. It felt as if someone was pulling at it but from inside. And somehow it felt good too. “Kepus, Kepus, there...”

“I know, sweet girl,” his fingers moved in you even more faster, and that was all you could feel. “Let go. Just let go.”

His thumb softly pressed on your nub and you gasped.

Something washed over you, something ecstatic. You felt free. Just like when you were on dragon back.

You panted, feeling as if you were knocked out of breath. Maybe you were. You look at Daemon, as he softly pulls his fingers out of you, putting them in his mouth, you couldn’t help the heat on your face when you remembered that it was your arousal that he was happily sucking off his fingers.

You looked at him in daze, everything seemed hazy for a few moments. Daemon leaned over you, his knuckles brushing your cheeks before his lips dropped on yours.

They were surprisingly soft, you had always imagined him having a hard touch but here he was, touching you as if you were made of glass, that you would break at the slight wrong caress. You felt his tongue on your lips, and you opened, letting his soft muscle of his mouth melt into yours.

You let him do what he wished to for some moments, unaware of what you were supposed to do but it didn’t take you long to catch up and you moved your tongue against his, you felt losing breath by every moment though nothing seemed to matter. It was heaven where Daemon was taking you. And you did not want to fall down from there.

“Fuck!” You heard Daemon curse as he parted from you, and his lips fell on your jaw and something hard rubbing your core. Your hips bucked up, unconsciously and you moaned. “Stop doing that, sweet girl,” Daemon spoke, his lips were moving down and down from your jaw to your neck, his hands pushing the sleeves of your slip down, his mouth leaving wet trails between your breast.

“kepus,” you were too lost. Your uncle looked like one of those Gods of Old Valyria. So beautiful, his burnt skin like stars on the dark sky. Your hands wrapped around his arms, feeling his full strong muscles, your finger traced the healed wounds, you felt your inside twist and turn. “kepus,”

Daemon pulled away, his eyes were dark, almost pitch black, he was sat between your legs. When did that happen you weren’t aware. You chest heaved as you took each breath greedily and watched his hands moving to his breeches’ laces, pulling them and he shed off them off. You eyes were on him, whole of him and your breath hitched.

So lost in the sight of him you didn’t know when he came back and kissed you, until his cock rubbed into you and you moaned. “Kepus,”

“Shh. It’s alright.” He whispered, his hips moved, you could feel him even when he wasn’t inside you. “Fucking hells, you are wet. You want this just much, don’t you?”

You didn’t get to answer him, feeling his head on your entrance, at this moment.

“This will hurt, sweetling.” Daemon kissed your forehead, his hands brushed your cheeks and hair just like when he wanted to comfort you at any peril of your. “but it will become better. I will make it all better.” And with that he pushed inside you, slowly, and you felt yourself stretching around him as he moved in slow, sucking in breath sharply and curses leaving his mouth, all faded to you.

He wasn’t lying when he said to would hurt. “kepus,” Your nails dug into his shoulders and he kissed your cheek with caressing your head all the while.

“Good girl, such a sweet girl, taking my cock so nicely.” You could hear his groans loud and clear even when he was speaking softly and slowly. “so tight, so firm. But you will take it, won’t you?”

You didn’t answer but hid your face in his neck, tightening your hold on him. You felt tore apart, yet you didn’t want to let go. “so big, kepus,” you whispered as he continued to bottom himself inside you and he kissed your neck saying words of praises.

It felt like hours when he stopped, Daemon by then had bit on your neck several times, you felt as if you’d had bled, but there was no worry about it. He won’t hurt you. You knew.

“Open your eyes, love,” He whispered and you did, he was just a hair width away from you and you could look at his eyes so clearly, his pools of lilac, light than that was your. You wished to have his eyes in your childhood.

He kissed you again and you kissed back. You couldn’t have enough of his mouth on yours, the taste of yourself and the wine mixed in both of your mouth was so sweet to you.

“Come to Dragonstone with me,” His forehead touched yours. Both of you were breathing each other in, “Take me to husband and I will take to you wife, in tradition of our house. You won’t be like her. Ever.”

You won’t be like her, he said. And you knew he was true to his words. He will be. He will not. Not like Alicent.

Not like her.

“Avy jorraelan, Kepus.” I love you, uncle.

Daemon smiled. It was the most beautiful sight you had ever seen in your life. “Avy jorraelan, donus rinus.” I love you, sweet girl.

Daemon moved in you, slow at first, so deep, you moaned at each stroke, every time his hips met yours, you couldn’t help but cry out first in discomfort and then in pleasure.

His lips descended upon your breast, taking your nubs in his mouth, he suckled at one like a babe hungry for their mother’s milk, his other hand playing with your other and his hips pushing into yours. You couldn’t hear anything but his grunt and groans and your moans and whimper.

Daemon held your legs, putting them around his waist. If you thought he was deep before, he was reaching way inside you.

“This cunt, your cunt was made for me, sweet girl. Look how good it take me. Even when you were asleep. Getting wet for me. It knows it’s mine. You know that too, don’t you?” you ought to feel humiliated and offended at such words. Being owned by some was not something you liked. But the way Daemon said it only made you clench harder around him making him groan, “fuck, yes. Yes, you do.”

“Yes. Yes, Kepus.” You whimpered at his fast pace inside you. Lost in the world of pleasure you were, you couldn’t hold your noises anymore. But of course you uncle would remedy it for you, putting his lips on yours, drinking every single sound in which left your mouth.

You clenched, your hands in his hair, pulling at them, feeling the tugging feeling as before in you. Daemon knew it all well.

“Going to give you my seed and you will swell with our child, sweet,” Daemon muttered in your ear. You felt yourself liking the prospect. Even imagining it in your head as your uncle rutted in you.

Our child.

“Yes”, you nodded, kissing his neck, “a babe, Kepus. With your eyes. I love your eyes.”

“Whatever, my sweet girl wants.” He grunted and you clenched on him again.

“Fuck, kepus.” You moaned, you were sure by now you had scratched his back bloody. “I... I feel it. It hurts.”

“I know, sweetling,” he muttered, “Let go. Just like before. Let it go.”

It wasn’t long you felt the same bliss wash over you and you felt warmth fill you in. Daemon’s seed, you knew it was as you both panted. Daemon stopped moving inside you after a few more strokes, but he did not pull out. He lowered himself to your bed and pulled you on him.

You rested your head on his chest, some silver hair, rubbing against your cheek, you took in the scent of his sweat, his skin glistening under the moonlight that fell in your room.

You felt him pull the sheet over the both of you, his hand running over your hair and exhaustion began to take over you. Your eyes drooped but you kept blinking the sleep away.

“Sleep,” Daemon kissed your head and you fell asleep just as quick as you had woken up, you hands wounded around his neck.

You prayed it not to be a dream.

#house of the dragon #asoiaf #hotd #targ reader #daemon targeryen x reader #daemon targeryan #daemon targareyn smut #rhaenyra targaryen #king viserys #alicent hightower #viserys i targaryen #house of the dragon fic #hotd fic

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goldensunflowe-r · 4 months ago

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You'll take one look at them and think that the love between them is unmatchable.

But then you see this and think, Does love even exist?

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aphroditelovesu · 11 months ago

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Yandere Viserys I Targaryen w/Second Wife!Reader Headcanons (Romantic)

❝ 🐉 — lady l: Happy New Year!!! First headcanons of the year and I hope you like it. I hope you have a great year, good things come to you and good reading! Forgive me for any mistakes ❤️✨️.

❝tw: unspecified age gap, overprotection, not compatible with canon and Reader is the mother of Aegon, Helaena, Daeron and Aemond.

❝🐉pairing: yandere!viserys i targaryen x female!reader.

Viserys never wanted to remarry after the death of his beloved Aemma. The idea of replacing her with another woman made him sick. He didn't want to get married again, but he was the King and he had his obligations to the Realm. To have a strong bloodline and strengthen the House Targaryen.

Although he didn't like the idea, Viserys after a period of time began looking for a potential bride. He received several powerful offers, such as the Velaryon and the Hightower, but he did not feel comfortable marrying Lady Laena or Lady Alicent.

So he kept looking and that's how he met you. An attractive young woman, but older than the last ones, and from a house powerful enough to provide strength to the Realm. Viserys was immediately attracted to you and knew he wanted to marry you.

The preparations were made quickly and well, Viserys was excited to be able to call you his wife, but in the days before the wedding, he spent time by your side, getting to know you better.

With that, Viserys found out as much as he could about you, about your childhood, your family, and your likes and dislikes. He was more than pleased, especially seeing that you were as interested in history as he was.

Rhaenyra also liked you, although she was apprehensive about the idea of a stepmother, about the possibility of you providing a male heir, she liked you. You were kind to her and assured her that even if you have a son, you will not try to replace her on the Throne.

When you became the second wife of Viserys, the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, he was already in love. Much faster than he would like to admit, Viserys was already in your domain and became yours even sooner than anticipated. At first, he felt guilty, guilty that he might be betraying Aemma's memory, but quickly, those thoughts went away. Aemma was dead and you were alive.

Viserys was more than happy to see that you and his daughter were getting along, it made him feel relieved inside. He couldn't wait to have children with you, to grow his family. When he learned of your first pregnancy, Viserys almost cried with happiness, but there was concern. What if you died during childbirth? He couldn't take another loss, couldn't lose you.

You were very much in love with each other, you had learned to love your husband and he was deeply in love with you. Your mannerisms, your personality, everything enchanted him. Your favorite moments together were when you talked about history, whether it was your House or House Targaryen. Viserys cherished every moment, every smile and look shared.

When you gave birth to a healthy son, Aegon, Viserys was very happy, not only because he had a son, but because you were alive and the birth was peaceful. The next pregnancies were no different, with Helaena, Daeron and Aemond.

You assured him, assure Rhaenyra, that you would not let Aegon usurp or anything like that happen when it was time for Rhaenyra to take the Throne. You adored your stepdaughter and she adored you too, seeing you as a second mother. Viserys would never admit it, but if you asked, he would name Aegon his heir if that was your wish. This shows how much he is in love with you.

You tried your best to fulfill your duties as Queen, mother and wife as best you could, discouraging any possible rivalry the children might have and reassuring your support for Viserys and your stepdaughter. Your main priority was to avoid a war. You presided over the Small Council, advising your husband as best you could.

You hold all power over Viserys, it soon became clear to everyone who really ruled the Seven Kingdoms. You could ask for anything, from the most insignificant to the most absurd thing, and Viserys would fulfill it instantly.

He is extremely overprotective, Viserys fears losing you more than anything and every time you have an entire armada comes out after you. When you are sick, he sends the best maesters to take care of you and will not leave your side until you get better.

If something were to happen to you or one of your children, may the gods be good. Viserys tries his best to avoid war and resolve any conflict with diplomacy, but all that changes when it comes to you. Any insult to you is like an insult to him and any way of hurting you will not be taken lightly.

No matter how peaceful he is, no matter how calm and rational, Viserys is still a Targaryen, a dragon and you should never mess with one of them if they don't want to get burn. Not only will you have your overprotective husband by your side, but also your children who love you deeply and will do anything for you.

You are not Aemma's replacement and Viserys doesn't think so. He thinks of you as yourself and loves you for it. He will always love Aemma, but he loves you in a different way. A more overprotective and possessive way. He can't lose you and he won't.

#hotd #yandere hotd #yandere house of the dragon #asoiaf #house of the dragon #a song of ice and fire #yandere asoiaf #asoiaf x reader #yandere Viserys I Targaryen #yandere Viserys I Targaryen x reader #yandere Viserys I Targaryen Headcanons #headcanons #yandere headcanons #viserys i targaryen x reader #Viserys targaryen x reader #yandere viserys targaryen #yandere Viserys targaryen x reader #yandere a song of ice and fire

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gulnarsultan · 4 months ago

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If it's ok can we have some Headcanon for father Viserys and Alicent daughter?

◇ The Princess was the second child and first daughter of King Viserys and his second wife Queen Alicent. She was a truly sweet and beautiful baby. She wasn't much of a crybaby. So both of her parents would check on her to make sure she was breathing.

◇ The Princess started walking and talking at an early age. She would often follow her father or mother around like a little duckling. The Princess would calmly watch her father while he was fixing the Valyrian model. King Viserys realized that he really enjoyed his daughter's company as time went by. Her calm, gentle and cheerful nature was like meditation for King Viserys.

◇ Queen Alicent was in a bad place emotionally after losing her most precious friend Princess Rhaenyran. However, the Princess would always listen to her mother attentively, and when her mother cried, she would wipe her tears with her tiny hands. She would hug her mother and kiss her. Alicent soon found solace in her sweet daughter. The Princess was truly his daughter and friend.

◇ The princess always prayed for her family. She would specially buy herbs and fruits that would be good for her father. She would talk to maesters, doctors and even healers. She would diligently work for her father's health. Viserys always felt lucky that his daughter was such a good daughter. The princess would always support her father emotionally. When Viserys could no longer work physically, Princess Valyria took on the task of finishing the model. Viserys was truly grateful to his daughter in this regard.

◇ In Alicent's eyes, her daughter was truly a savior angel. She was a good daughter and sister. She was truly grateful to the Gods for blessing her with such a beautiful daughter.

◇ Both of them tried to take care of the princess and spoil her as much as they could. The princess did not hesitate to spoil her parents. The princess was actually a safe haven for both of them.

◇ Neither of them wanted the princess to get married and leave them. Because even though they couldn't admit it out loud, their favorite was the Princess.

#hotd #hotd x reader #hotd x you #hotd x oc #house of the dragon #viserys i targaryen #viserys targaryen x reader #alicent hightower #alicent hotd #alicent hightower x reader #alicent hightower x you #princess reader

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princesssmars · 3 months ago

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thinking about princess reader and royal knight rhaenyra…

as the young princess of dorne, tourneys were nothing new to you. you’d never really cared for them, finding the blood and violence unnecessary and borderline barbaric. when you could you would beg your mother to come up with an excuse to your father to let you stay at the palace, citing sickness, weariness, anything.

but this time you had no choice. because as your family entered into the royal watching booth, politely greeting the members of your father court, your father stops before extending his hand to your guest - king viserys of westeros himself.

you’d heard many things about him, partially from overhearing your mothers gossip and from the workers talking a little too loudly when you’d sneak in the kitchens. you obviously knew he was a targaryen, his long silver gold hair and peculiar eyes telling anyone with a short distance of his heritage.

but more importantly you’d heard that he was a mostly kind and generous king, with a large portion of his people happy under his reign. there was no better option for your father to invite to his event.

you gracefully presented yourself to him, smiling when he kissed the back of your hand and gave you a polite compliment. he introduced his wife, the beautiful queen aemma, and his vibrant young son baelon who excitedly shook his hand at you and everyone else in the booth.

after the introductions everyone say down to let the people know the tourney could commence, cheers ringing as you settled into place in front of your father and next to rosalei, one of the fellow younger ladies in court who was your closest friend ever since she snuck some sugared treats to your room when the head cook had banned you from them for a week.

the even was like any other : knights got in their horses, they picked up giant sticks, then ran at each other on said horses with said sticks and tried to knock the other man down. yet again the event did nothing to entertain you, focusing on the small conversation you were keeping up with rosalei while paying attention to the ones around you. for now, your father and his guest had discovered their shared love for the histories and had veered to the animosity but occasional generosity between their people.

your father is close to getting on to the topic of a equally beneficial trade deal when whispers from the small folk take over the crowd, some standing up and pointing at a contender who had entered the fighting area. you bend over the edge of the booth to catch a look, ignoring your mother chastising your posture and manners.

it’s a knight everyone’s looking at, that’s true, but a knight unlike you’ve ever seen before. their armor is black and scarily imposing, a beautiful construction of steel with strong pleats and swoops. their horse is somehow darker than the armor, black as knight with a bright sun medallion around its neck. its only then you notice the flag in their hand, along with the dragon emblems on their armor.

"you have a competing knight, your grace?" you ask, turning your head around when you are only met with silence. the visiting kings face is red, smile so forced it looks like he’s going to quickly gain a cramp in his jaw. the queen is resting a hand on his shoulder, subtly trying to comfort him while they exchange hushed whispers.

“said…show strength…not what i meant-“

the queen tries to comfort him more before they look in your direction, along with every one else in your booth. your body goes rigid for a second before you realize they’re looking behind you, turning your body to see what was so intriguing.

the targaryen knight, poised right beneath the opening of the booth, helmeted head and joust sword tipped towards you. and even without being able to see their face you know their eyes are trained on you.

you can also tell that everyone is waiting for you to do something. so with all the farce you can muster you gently pick up your favor, raising it high enough for the people to see, and let it slide down onto the joust.

no further words are shared, the warrior staying in place for a few more seconds before goading their horse back into position. as you watch you plop back into your seat, breathing slightly stuttering at the encounter while your friend pokes and prods for an explanation for whatever that was.

even if you had the time you wouldn’t be able to say much, feeling like a warm thick jelly has suddenly made its home inside your throat. put of the corner of your you can see one of the kings guards looking at you, but before you can turn to look back at him the sudden roars of the crowd snap your attention to the game.

almost like a bolt of lighting does the warrior speed down the jousting lane, sword aimed steady at the burly man who had bested most of the other men in the contest. just when his sword is aimed inches away from the knight, then bend their body dangerously close to falling off of their horse before thrusting at just the right moment to knock the man down, the sound of galloping hooves and crunching metal all you can hear.

the cheers from the commoners is near deafening, but all you can focus on is the knight, who instead of basking in the success and praise is yet again looking in your direction. but looking back at the aghast king viserys, you can’t exactly tell who they are trying to impress.

after congratulating and thanking the people for coming and competing, and giving a personal thanks to the king for making his way down to your kingdom, your father dismisses everyone to enjoy the other tourney activities while the royal families go to prepare for later celebrations. after giving the royal family of westeros a quick goodbye, you grab rosealai’s hand and hurry out of the booth to grab a quick bite from one of the fair booths and to try to talk all you can about what just happened.

but right before you ca leave the booth you’re stopped in your tracks, no one other than the black knight standing in front of you. you blink up at them, waiting for them to speak before their hands raise to take off their helmet to reveal themselves . it’s almost in slow motion that you take in every part of their face - a soft angled jaw, pink lips, a broad nose, short silver hair -

“rhaenyra! finally, please show a bit of grace to our hosts and introduce yourself.” king viserys comes up beside you, gently scooting beside you to wrap an arm around the armored shoulders of the knight. “the last impression i’ll have my daughter making is that she’s yet another rude and british knight.”

neither of you move however, gazes locked and bodies still. only about a thousand thoughts are running through your head at the current moment.

the knight is a woman. the knight is an attractive woman. the knight is princess rhaenyra. princess rhaenyra who came up to your booth and quietly asked for your favor.

without a word spoken or breaking ye contact, the heavy hand of the princess grabs yours, physically strong but gently soft, bringing it up slowly before pressing a kiss to the back of your hand.

you’ve always been able to keep your composure in the face of extreme emotions, a necessary trait as a royal who had to make quick and harsh decisions. sadly that all seems to be going out the window as you feel your cheeks warm and your breathing get faster.

“it is an honor to meet you, princess. and even greater an honor to win a competition with your favor. i hope similar opportunities make themselves available in the future.”

her voice is melodic yet curt, no room for doubt or wrongful interpretation. you break her gaze to look down at her lips, looking back up to see her doing the same before a sly smile appears on her face.

clearly the moment goes on a little too long for comfort, the king further ushering his daughter to greet your father and mother after giving the two of you a worried look. when her body passes yours you can feel her hand discreetly brush against your side, shivering slightly at the cold of the steel even through the fabrics of your dress.

your father quickly motions for one of his guard to guide you back to the castle before turning to your guests with a welcoming but greedy smile. you can feel rosalei’s barey contained excitement as you rush out of the entryway, not before looking back one last time and seeing purple eyes already trained on your body.

maybe tourneys weren’t so boring after all.

can you tell i don’t really know shit about tourneys. sorry if some things are inaccurate i’m getting everything through hotd, asoiaf wiki, and tiktok’s 💔

#rhaenyra i got some place for you to put that joust #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd x reader #rhaenyra #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #ser rhaenyra targaryen #knight!rhaenyra #aemma and baelon are alive #so viserys can stfu and let rhae do what she wants #alicent is idk back at home reading <3

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idksmtms · 1 month ago

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no body, no crime (Daemon Targaryen x Niece!reader) - evermore series

evermore series

A/N: 2 fics in one day?? Am I trying to make up for the month I was away?? (yes, yes I am...)

I feel like I only write Niece!reader with Daemon because he is the perfect hot incesty uncle on HoTD and why would I want to change that??

Summary: When Rhea Royce is found dead in a riding accident in the Vale and Daemon returns to King's Landing, you wonder if it is all because of you…

Word count: ~3k

Trigger Warnings: 18+, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, kinda scary Daemon, creepy vibes, mentions of death, suspicion of murder, kinda stalker/obsessive Daemon, era typical marriage habits, slight spoilers for HoTD S1, (please let me know if I missed any)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters. I do not claim to own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so.

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

You had always known that Daemon was dangerous. No person that lived in King’s Landing should think otherwise, because the ones that did often ended up a consequence of his danger. He was reckless, ruthless, impulsive. He had killed and was always ready to kill again. You knew of the proverb the common folk often quoted, “Madness and greatness are two sides of the same coin. When a Targaryen is born, the gods toss a coin in the air, and the world holds its breath to see how it will land.” You often wonder which side the coin has landed on Daemon, whether it has even landed yet or you are merely witnessing a point in time when the face with madness is tilted up to the earth as it rotates through the air.

You had always been intrigued by your uncle, by his harsh manner and sultry tongue, by his ruthless quest for power and his weakness for women. As a second daughter, you had much more idle time than Rhaenyra ever did, and you often used it to skulk about the Red Keep and spy on the doings of others. You had grown an early infatuation with watching Daemon in the training yard, or simply following him as he made his way around the Keep.

Of course at that age you had thought yourself a master of secrets, one with the shadows, and you hadn’t noticed the little smile that always graced his lips when he noticed you following him, or that he took extra long, winding, paths to reach his destination.

Then Daemon had defied your father and gone to fight the war in the Stepstones, and that had been the end of that. In the long while Daemon had been gone, the realities of womanhood had raised you quickly. You were burdened by responsibilities, by the slowly growing urgency of finding you a suitor. You were so changed that when Daemon returned victorious and supplicant, he almost did not recognise the woman you had become.

It was now him who was found trailing you, watching you when he could and forcing his company onto you. It was now he who was infatuated with you, and while you would have enjoyed the attention once, would have revelled in it and preened girlishly, you had also become aware of the realities of men, and particularly Daemon in the time he had been gone. You had become aware of his violent tendencies, his gallivanting habits, and most of all, his marriage.

His hatred of Rhea Royce was famous throughout the land, he had made it clear to any passerby, but you still valued the sanctity of marriage and would not take any part in helping him defile it.

“Would you care to accompany me on a stroll through the gardens, darling niece?” He asked one day after finding you perusing scrolls on Targaryen history in the library. You had jumped at the sound of his voice, looking at him warily as he seemed to appear out of the shadows. His dark eyes scared you.

“Unchaperoned? That would not be wise uncle,” you had mumbled, turning back to the tome placed on the table before you.

“You are my niece, why would a chaperone be required?” He asked as if you had posed a ludicrous concern and you frowned at him again.

“Yes, but we are also Targaryens,” and while you had believed that to be the end of the conversation, Daemon had simply scoffed and forcibly threaded your arm through his and walked you out of the room.

You couldn’t deny that the walk had been pleasant. He could be funny when he wanted, and he was immensely clever despite his impatience and brutish behaviour, and you had found your hands gripping him voluntarily, found yourself enjoying the feeling of his firm muscles under your fingertips. But you also couldn’t deny that there was something that always had you on edge. There was an underlying violence, a darkness that always lingered around him, and you knew that you could never trust that you were fully safe in his company despite no obvious threat.

More walks were posed in the coming days that you happily agreed to, and enjoyed all the more. You could physically feel his charms working, at the gentle way he caressed the back of your hand when he was lost in thought while listening to you speak. Or the way he gazed directly into your eyes when he spoke, his gaze never once wavering. And he had a certain affinity for presenting you with gifts. The first was still your most cherished, a necklace with a pendant of Valyrian steel shaped in the sigil of house Targaryen. You often felt equal parts scared, excited, and happy in his presence.

When it was decided that Rhaenyra was to tour the realm to find a suitor, your father decided that it would be best for you to accompany her and try to find a suitor of your own. Of course Rhaenyra would have first pick, but you could choose from the others and it would be best to be done with the complications for both princesses all together. While you weren’t particularly looking forward to the prospect, you were content in the knowledge that you would be allowed to pick your own husband, a luxury you were highly aware few were afforded in the realm.

A fortnight before you were due to leave, in the late evening when the Keep was lit only by torches and candles, Daemon cornered you in the library. Your space was lit only by a few candles scattered around the table you were sitting at, and when you noticed him lingering at the edges of the light, you jumped out of your seat, ready to scream for help. Your heart beat out of your chest, your entire body was clenched and you wanted to run, but then he stepped into the light and you felt yourself unfurl in your seat. Relief was like a wash of cold water and you began to giggle, hand pressed to your chest as you gulped air in like you had never tasted it before.

“It’s just you,” you breathed out, closing your eyes for a moment before opening them and refocusing your gaze on Daemon now that he had stepped closer to you. He walked over and kneeled down in front of your seat.

“Do not leave on this tour,” he said it firmly, almost desperately, but you could only frown at him in confusion.

“I- what do you mean, kepus?” You clasped your hands in your lap, fidgeting a little with your index finger. He quickly wrapped his own hands around them, gripping them tightly as he looked at you.

“I mean that you should abandon this worthless search for a suitor, and marry me instead.” You let out an incredulous laugh but found nothing funny about the situation. You pried your hands out of his grip and quickly stood up, stepping back from where he stayed kneeling in front of you. Not for the first time did you realise how tall and strong his body was that you were not much of an intimidating presence even while he kneeled at your feet.

“You cannot be serious, kepus,” you mumbled.

“What makes you think I am in jest?” He asked, and you could see no humour in any part of him. He looked hewn from stone.

“Because you are married, Daemon! By the gods, how do you forget this each and every day of your life?!” Your body felt like it was overflowing with panic and hysteria. “You are married, and have been married for a long while. Just because you leave Rhea Royce in the Vale does not change that fact. It is sacrilege for you to even suggest marrying me while she lives happily and healthily.” The sudden pin prick of tears caught you by surprise, and you wiped at your cheek before they had even fallen.

Daemon stood from where he had kneeled and stepped closer to you. When you began to back away, he followed, and only when your back was pressed to the wall and you could move no further did he stop. He refrained from pressing his entire body to yours but his face was so close that your noses brushed and his eyes had blurred into a slash of black.

“Is my sham of a marriage the only reason you deny me?” He asked, low and whispery, his voice a snake slithering up your arms and legs. You gulped, the urge to run like a raging storm inside of you. “Answer me.”

“Yes.” You said it so quickly you weren’t sure you spoke it for a second, but once it left your mouth, you knew it to be true. If he was not married you would say yes. If he was not married you could actually see yourself loving him. But it was simply not to be.

He stood there and stared at you so long that you wondered if this was your end. Were you about to die at the hands of your uncle? You began closing your eyes, readying yourself for the inevitable when he pressed his lips to your cheek in a chaste kiss then pulled away and walked out of the library. You opened your eyes and nothing was amiss. It was almost as if he hadn’t ever been there and you had stood from the chair and pressed yourself to the wall of your own volition.

You stood there for a few minutes more, just waiting for something to happen, for Daemon to return or the Stranger to come and guide you to the next life. But the world had returned to the stillness it inhabited in the hour of the ghosts.

The tour had been unsuccessful for Rhaenyra, but ultimately it had been unsuccessful for you too. You could not marry before Rhaenyra, but after meeting the men on the tour, you didn’t want to marry any of them anyway. They were all either young, immature, boys who didn’t know their right from their left, or men as old as your father, backs already curling over their walking sticks and servants already wiping dribbled wine from their chins.

In the days after your return to King's Landing, you had discovered Daemon’s sudden disappearance with Caraxes and it had left you in a certain dowerness. You had already spent so long at sea with little to no entertaining company, and you had looked forward to returning to your walks with your uncle. It seemed not to be.

But soon enough you were whisked away to Driftmark to secure Rhaenyra’s betrothal, and despite being rather annoyed that you were forced to join this journey, you ended up glad for it. Laena Velaryon, close to you in age, swiftly became a favoured companion of yours. She was strong but kind, fun but sensible, and you found yourself excitedly seeking her company in the time you spent at Driftmark before the betrothal was finalised and you all began making your way back to King’s Landing.

While you were happy for Rhaenyra, happy that she found someone she could spend the rest of her life with in Laenor, you began to worry once more for your own prospects. Who would you choose? Or worse, who would be chosen for you? But all these worries were put to the side upon discovering the news that awaited you on your return to the Red Keep.

Rhea Royce was dead. Mourning bells had rung through the Vale upon the discovery of her crushed body under her horse. But all you could think about was the determination in Daemon’s eyes that evening in the library. All you could think of was the question he had asked, the harsh whisper and the quick exit. Where was he?

With each day that passed, your nerves grew. Your mind was plagued with the thoughts that this was all Daemon’s doing, a desperate attempt to end his marriage so he would be free to love you openly. And with every day that he did not return, your heart grew more fearful that your suspicion was correct.

There had only been one letter from him, sent from some unknown location, claiming a grief over the tragic accident that befell his wife, and nothing more…

On the day of Rhaenyra’s wedding, you had almost spilled your goblet of wine down your dress when he had entered the hall. He looked clean and fresh, as put together as ever, and something inside you turned cold at the smirk he wore as he sauntered down the aisle and waited for a chair to be placed for him at the table just to your right.

Laena, blessed Laena, sitting directly to your right was your rock. You had requested that she have her place at the head table with you, and now you were more thankful than ever that you had requested the placement.

“So,” she whispered right in your ear, “what killed her then?” You jumped, turning to Laena with wide eyes and shaking hands.

“What? What do you mean?” If others didn’t know any better, it would surely be assumed that you were somehow guilty for the death.

“Well, you said so yourself, Daemon is claiming he simply heard the news of her death and that he believes it was a tragic accident, but the Royces believe he had something to do with it, that Rhea was too good a rider for it to have happened the way it looked. What do you believe?”

You said nothing, let Laena get bored of your silence and move on to other topics and judgements of the people in the hall. But when she stood from her seat to go greet her family members on one of the lower tables, it took everything within you not to cling to her skirts like a child and beg her to take you with her.

As soon as she left you sitting there, your eyes were pulled to Daemon like some magical force controlled your actions. You couldn’t stop watching him, lips almost shaking, and he watched you in return, jovial to an almost sadistic degree. Just as he was about to reach for your hand on the table, a man walked up and stood just in front of him, glaring so viciously that you bristled. Daemon didn’t even bother glancing in his direction until he cleared his throat aggressively.

“Yes?” He asked, frowning in confusion and annoyance in the man’s direction. “Who are you?”

“Sir Gerold.” When Daemon continued to look at him like he was some random fool, you could almost see the smoke pouring from the man’s ears. “I am Sir Gerold Royce. I am cousin to your late lady wife.” Your eyes widened as you looked upon the man, pressing yourself back into the seat warily as Daemon seemed to relax further into his, leaning back, palms pressed to the table, and a look of clarity dawning across his face.

“Aah, yes, terrible thing, I’m positively bereft, such a tragic accident.” His lack of expression was almost comical. If you hadn’t been so terrified of the situation you were sure you would have laughed uproariously at the fake grief Daemon so easily wove to further antagonise the Royce man. The man’s jaw looked close to cracking at how harshly he clenched his teeth together.

“You know better than anyone it was no accident.”

“Are you confessing some guilt, Sir Gerold?” He asked, and you could see that Daemon was enjoying the interaction immensely. He had that mischievous glint in his eye, that subtle quirk to his lip that gave him such a self-superior air and made him ten times more dislikable than he already was.

“I am making an accusation.” And there it was, out in the open now for all to see, the uncomfortable suspicion that had bounced around everyone’s mind since the news of Rhea Royce’s tragic passing had spread.

Daemon said nothing, simply continued staring at Gerold Royce with those black eyes of his that made the world feel small and harsh. Ser Lyonel was listening on your left, and you wanted to melt into the wood of your chair, never to be seen again. The air was thick and painful and watching Daemon quickly deposit the man with no thought to the grief he was going through, you leapt out of your chair and scurried out of the hall, ignoring the footsteps that chased after you.��

You weren’t quite sure where you were going, just that you had to leave that situation and were now fruitlessly attempting to outrun the thoughts that chased you so relentlessly. Your breaths were shallow and painful, your hands felt full of blood, heavy and swollen, and you couldn’t quite see where you were going through the panic.

Your trusty feet led you to the library and you only stopped once you were inside and at the table you usually chose to sit at. As the breath began to return to you, so did the awareness that you were not alone. You whirled around to find Daemon turning the corner with his long strides. He paused just at the edge of the little area you occupied and watched you with a calculating gaze.

“Did you do it, Daemon? Did you kill your wife for this?” You asked hurriedly, voice hushed and lips stumbling over one another as you spoke. Your pulse was thrumming in your ears, and while you were all fidgeting and pacing, Daemon stood still and stoic, as immovable as a wall. When you paused to look at him, chewing on your lip as you frowned the longer he made you wait for an answer, he stood to his full height before leaning down so his face was pressed as close to yours without actually kissing you.

“I would do anything for us,” and his voice was a dark whisper, a promise…

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j-k-writes · 25 days ago

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The Bronze Targaryen - 5

Summary - Two and a half moons after (Y/N)'s arrival in Kingslanding he must grapple with his new title as a dragonlord, wedding festivites, his grandsire's sudden illness, and his relationship with his father. The prince tries to balance all of this as the royal wedding looms over him.

Warnings - minor injuries, general HOTD warnings, drinking, canon character death, consummation scene (its minor and a fade to black)

I have decided to mold the lore to my own desires because there is almost next to nothing on House Royce during this time period. Also was going to break this into two parts because its so long but wanted all the wedding festvites to take place during one chapter.

(Y/N) winced as the maester prodded at his nose, the maester made humming noises as he examined the prince’s injuries. He applied a few plaster’s to (Y/N)’s nose, before wrapping it in soaked wool.

“His nose shall heal fine, my prince.”

Daemon nodded, “Thank you, you may go.”

The maester bowed to the two princes, gathering his supplies and leaving (Y/N) alone with his father. Daemon watched as the man left the room, and waited until the doors were shut before turning on his son. He crossed his arms leaning back against a chair, and (Y/N) braced himself for a lecture.

“How are you feeling?”

(Y/N) blinked, “What?”

Daemon pushed himself off the chair, making his way over toward (Y/N). He slowly reache

d his hand out, gently tracing the scratches and bruises on (Y/N)’s face, and (Y/N) was too shocked at his father’s actions to react. “Are you in pain?”

“I’m fine,” (Y/N) said, looking up at his father. “I’ve had worse.”

Daemon frowned, and (Y/N) wondered how much his mother had told him of his childhood mishaps. “What were you doing so far off Rosby Road?”

(Y/N) flushed, “I- uh, snuck out.”

“You snuck out?” His father’s face lit up, and he took a step back laughing and shaking his head. “How did your uncle react?”

“Well he doubled my guard for one.” (Y/N) said, remembering his Uncle’s fury when (Y/N) showed up the next morning, face covered in blood and dirt. He had some choice words for the young heir, and (Y/N) was confident Daemon had heard his brother’s opinion on the matter as soon as he stepped foot into the keep. “But he was more interested in the dragon than my misbehavior.”

“Ah,” Daemon smirked. “Yes, it must have been quite a shock.”

(Y/N) rolled his eyes at his father, “I know you did something.”

“What did I do, (Y/N)?” Daemon asked, raising an eyebrow at his son. “I did not drag Vermithor to you, or you to him for that matter. Vermithor made his choice.”

“And it’s just a coincidence that as soon as you leave for Dragonstone, Vermithor leaves and seeks me out randomly.”

“Perhaps it was fate.” Daemon shrugged.

“You don’t expect me to believe that.”

Daemon approached (Y/N), placed his hands on his shoulders. “It does not matter what you believe, all that matters are the facts. And the facts are that you have claimed Vermithor, you should be proud.”

“I did not wish to claim a dragon, I never have.” (Y/N) said, and his father’s face hardened.

“You are my son.” Daemon said, and (Y/N) hissed as his grip on his shoulder tightened. “You are a dragon, you cannot escape that.”

His father’s face softened at (Y/N)’s expression. He released the boy, and seemed to hesitate before smoothing his hair back out of his face, “You should rest, you have had quite the number of shocks these past few days.”

(Y/N) watched as father turned on his heel, and exited the chambers gently shutting the doors behind him.

“Lykirī.” (Y/N) smiled, as Vermithor pushed his snout into his chest. He pet the dragon with a gloved hand, laughing as the dragon continued to push him. “You must relax if you wish to fly.”

(Y/N) had spent almost a week avoiding Vermithor after the dragon chased him down in the woods. Hoping that if he ignored him long enough the dragon would take the hint and leave, but eventually the Dragonkeepers sought him out, telling him that Vermithor had been untamable since he’d arrived in the Dragonpit. So (Y/N) resigned himself to the life of a dragonrider. He’d spent every day since then with the dragon, slowly but surely adjusting to his presence, and Vermithor had calmed drastically with (Y/N)’s visits.

(Y/N) had taken to flying easily, much to his father’s delight and, as much as he hid it, his own. Although he had felt sick at the idea of claiming a dragon at first, he had come to find pride in the quick developments in his relationship with Vermithor.

Rhaenyra too found delight in her betrothed’s new life.

Anytime (Y/N) was free Rhaenyra was dragging him to the dragonpit, insisting Vermithor and Syrax go flying together. Viserys, at first happy to have another dragon in the family, soon grew inpatient with the two teens. Irritated at their constant absence from court, but (Y/N) paid him little mind. (Y/N) had no real place in his court, and he had not yet raised Rhaenyra, his heir, from the role of cupbearer.

(Y/N) saddled Vermithor, leaning down to whisper to the dragon, “Sōvēs”

The wind was cool against his face, blowing the strands of hair that had escaped his bun around in his face. (Y/N) had been wishing for clean and open air since he’d arrived in Kingslanding, this just isn’t how he expected to find it. Vermithor rumbled under him, and he laughed, leaning down so that he could rub the dragon’s neck.

“I know,” (Y/N) spoke, almost shouting to be heard against the wind. “I am sorry I was late.”

He’d been stuck in court all day, listening to his father and uncle bicker over details of the upcoming royal wedding. His uncle, ever the peacekeeper, had wanted Rhaenyra and (Y/N) to be married in the faith of the seven, as he was to Aemma and later Alicent, his father had other ideas however.

“I do not worship the New Gods, uncle.” (Y/N) pointed out.

“It is the tradition of the royal family.” The Grand Maester spoke up, as the other lords of the chamber had gone silent as soon as the tensions started to rise, seemingly fearful of angering any member of the royal family. Not that (Y/N) could blame them, he’d heard stories of his father’s infamous fits of anger.

“(Y/N) follows the Old Gods like his mother,” His father looked pained to speak the words, but (Y/N) gave him an appreciative nod all the same. “And I have not known Rhaenyra to spend her days in the sept. We are Targaryens, they should marry in the tradition of Old Valyria.”

“The faith-”

“Fuck the faith.” Daemon spat. “I will not ask my son to forsake his gods so that some fat septon is comfortable, and we cannot bring a weirwood here so this is the only equitable compromise I see.”

His uncle and the members of his council had grumbled at the idea, but eventually they conceded knowing this was an argument they could not win without insulting someone. His uncle dismissed them all, brows pinched in frustration. (Y/N) had caught his father’s arm on the way out, stopping him from walking away.

“Thank you.” He did not meet his father’s eyes. “I know faith is not important to you, but it is to me so- just- thank you.”

His father gently cupped his cheek, bringing (Y/N)’s eyes up to meet his. His father smiled at him, “You do not have to thank me. It is no secret that I hold no love for your mother’s house, but you do, and you are my blood. I will always defend you.”

His father’s words still hung over his head by the time (Y/N) and Vermithor had returned to the Dragonpit.

Rhaenyra was waiting for him as he dismounted, accompanied by a slew of Kingsguard and a royal carriage. The Kingsguard watched Vermithor warily as he grumbled, huffing as though he could sense (Y/N)’s apprehension at the sight laid out before him.

“Lykirī.” (Y/N) whispered, urging the bronze beast to return to the Dragonpit. Vermithor huffed one last time at the men, causing (Y/N) to chuckle, before returning. (Y/N) walked over to Rhaenyra, untying his hair and letting it tumble down to his shoulders. “That is quite the party, Nyra.”

She sighed, “Our presence is required at the keep. We must be readied to greet the lords arriving at the court.”

A Kingsguard opened the door of the carriage, and (Y/N) offered his hand for Rhaenyra to take. She took his hand, using it as leverage to step into the carriage and (Y/N) followed suit, taking the seat across from her.

“What troubles you?”

Rhaenyra blinked at (Y/N), “I am not troubled.”

“Rhaenyra,” (Y/N) said, smiling slightly, “I can tell something is troubling you. Is it tonight?”

“No,” She shook her head, leaning forward and placing her hand on (Y/N)’s knee. “No, it’s not tonight, it is this morning. My father is still blind to the schemes of some of those present in his court, they seek to undermine our family in favor of the Hightower children.”

“Your father will not claim Aegon over you. You are his heir, you will be Queen and no scheming lord can change that.”

Rhaenyra smiled, squeezing his knee slightly before releasing him and sitting back. (Y/N) turned to look out of the carriage, leaning back into the cushions and closing his eyes. He heard Rhaenyra chuckle softly, before the exhaustion of the day overtook him and he slipped away to sleep.

“You seem nervous.” (Y/N) turned, coming face to face with his cousin. He gave his best attempt at a smile, he fiddled with the collar of his shirt, and Gerold stepped forward. He adjusted the leather jerkin, allowing (Y/N) to breathe easier. “It is odd to see you in such formal attire.”

(Y/N) laughed, “At least they don’t have dragons on them.”

“No? I have heard a rumor that you’ve become quite the dragonlord in your absence.”

(Y/N) reddened, ducking his head slightly, “It was an accident.”

His cousin laughed, patting him on the shoulder, “There is no need to be nervous, cousin.”

His cousin smiled at him one last time before joining his other cousin in the precession line. (Y/N) frowned at the sight of Gunthor, he’d been informed when his family and their court had arrived that his grandsire had fallen ill not long after (Y/N) departed, and in his heirs absence his cousin Gunthor, second in line, had taken his place as regent. His grandsire had been too ill to make the journey to Kingslanding, sending (Y/N) his well wishes and Gunthor in his place.

A sudden hand on his shoulder startled him out of his thoughts. He turned his head to catch his father smiling, he squeezed his shoulder. “The tailors did well, you look like a prince.”

“I am a prince.” (Y/N) said, and his father’s smile widened.

“Yes, you are. Remember that, as there are those that would hope you forget.” His father nodded in the direction of Gunthor, and (Y/N)’s expression soured.

“I do not trust him, I cannot say why but-” (Y/N) frowned, staring at his cousin’s interactions with the Valemen around him. “He did not write to me to tell me of my grandsire’s illness. I am the heir, I should be regent, not him, and yet in my absence he swooped in.”

His father nodded, “Good. You must recognize the snakes before they strike.”

His father stepped in front of him, blocking his view of the Valemen. “I am aware that we do not have the best relationship-”

(Y/N) snorted, and Daemon laughed rolling his eyes. “Yes I know, but you are my son, my blood. And I would like to be not just your sire, but your father as well. I was not there in your youth, let me be there now.”

(Y/N) frowned, hesitating. He swallowed before finally speaking, “May we speak of this after the feast?”

“Of course,” His father lightly touched his cheek, “Come we should join the others.”

He and his father took their places at the front of the party, Gunthor to (Y/N)’s left and Daemon to his right. (Y/N) took a deep breath as the doors opened, keeping his gaze on the two banners bearing the sigils of House Targaryen and House Royce hung in the back of the Great Hall as his family entered.

“Ser Gunthor of House Royce. Acting Lord of Runestone, Keeper of the Gates of the Moon. And Prince Daemon Targaryen. And his son and heir to Runestone Prince (Y/N) Targaryen the future King Consort.”

The guests of the hall stood, clapping as they walked down to the high table. The amount of eyes on him made (Y/N) uneasy, but he kept his head high, posture exuding the confidence expected of one of his station. (Y/N) made eye contact with Rhaenyra at the end of the hall who offered him a comforting smile, he nodded to her.

They paused at the beginning of the steps, bowing to the King, before Rhaenyra stepped around the table making her way toward the crowd. (Y/N) stepped forward, meeting her halfway, he took her hand as his father had instructed him when going over the etiquette required of him at the feast.

“You must act every bit the king you will one day be, no matter how unused to these events you may be.” His father had told him. (Y/N) scoffed at the advice, he was raised to be the Lord of Runestone, he knew how to act at a feast.

As (Y/N) pressed a chaste kiss to Rhaenyra’s hand, and claps echoed around the hall, he cursed himself for not taking his father’s advice seriously. He had never known a feast quite like this, hosting the most important lords of the whole of Westeros. Lords he’d never met before like the Lannisters, Hightowers, and Velaryons. He took his place by Rhaenyra’s side at the table, his father and cousin taking the seats by his left.

He let out a breath as he sat down, scanning the crowd as his uncle started to speak. Rhaenyra grabbed his hand under the table, squeezing it in reassurance, it was only then that he allowed himself to relax, if only slightly.

"Be welcome,” His uncle smiled out at the crowd, “As we join together in celebration. Tonight is only its beginning. We honor one of Westeros' oldest houses, and a fierce ally to the crown, House Royce. Just as House Targaryen reaches back to the blood of Old Valyria, House Royce reaches back to the blood of the first men. With House Targaryen and H-"

Viserys paused, and everyone averted their gaze to where his lingered. (Y/N) tensed once more as Queen Alicent Hightower made her entrance into the hall. The color of her dress a clear statement to anyone who knew any of the histories. Reluctantly (Y/N) made his way to his feet with the rest of the guests, he shot an amused glance to his side where his father still sat, eyes narrowed at the young queen.

Alicent addressed Rhaenyra, “Congratulations, step-daughter. What a blessing this is for you.”

Rhaenyra gave no indication of thanks, and Alicent kissed Viserys on the cheek before taking her seat beside him.

He’d not yet had any real interactions with the young queen, only knowing things told to him by Rhaenyra and Daemon. He had taken them with a grain of salt, wanting to make his own judgment of the girl, but with the blatant display she’d just shown to the lord’s of Westeros, (Y/N) decided that maybe Rhaenyra and Daemon had been right in their worries. Perhaps the Hightowers did have their own intentions with the crown.

“Please be seated.”

(Y/N) traced the rim of his empty goblet as his uncle stood silently, only picking his eyes up from the table when he started to speak.

"With House Targaryen and House Royce united, once again, I hope to herald in a second Age of Dawn and Dragons in Westeros.” Viserys spoke, and the hall erupted into applause.

“And after tonight’s small affair,” Laughter sounded through the halls, and (Y/N) had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “Seven days of tournament and feasting! And at the end of it all, a royal wedding. Between my daughter, my heir, your future queen. And Prince (Y/N) Targaryen, heir to Runestone.”

As Viserys sat, and everyone else followed suit, Rhaenyra and (Y/N) rose from theirs. They approached the middle of the aisle, and began their dance. (Y/N) had never been much of a dancer, and suffered through the lessons given to both he and Rhaenyra.

“I feel like a fool.” (Y/N) whispered as Rhaenyra and he side stepped each other.

“You are doing wonderfully.” Rhaenyra whispered back, taking her place back to back with him. “Ignore everyone, pretend it is just you and me.”

When they finished, bowing to one another the halls once again erupted in applause. (Y/N) took Rhaenyra’s hands in his, kissing them softly as she gave him a knowing smile. As the rest of the courtiers took their places on the dance floor, (Y/N) tried to escape back to the high table, longing for a cup of wine. He was stopped before he could reach the table much to his dismay.

“My Prince.” The lady, who (Y/N) did not recognize, blushed, bowing to him. “May I have this dance?”

(Y/N) gaped at her, before remembering who and where he was. “Yes, yes of course Lady-”

“Reyne.”

“Lady Reyne. (Y/N) smiled, mourning his cup of wine. He gestured toward the lords and lady’s dancing, “Lead the way.”

He had to dance with five young ladies before he finally found his escape. He flopped, very unprince-like into his seat, immediately grabbing the cup of wine laid out in front of him. His father laughed, waving over a servant to refill the cup once (Y/N) had finished.

“Not a fan of dancing?” Daemon smirked, “Or is it the ladies asking you to dance you are not fond of?”

“Both.” (Y/N) spoke over the rim of his cup, “They only wish to dance with me because I am to marry Rhaenyra, if I were just the heir to Runestone they’d pay me little mind.”

“I don’t know about that,” Daemon said, “You are a comely young man.”

(Y/N) smirked, “Ladies don’t wish to dance with comely young men.”

“Neither do lords.” His father raised his eyebrows, humor sparkling in his eyes.

(Y/N) shrugged, smiling at his father’s tone, “You have been talking to Rhaenyra.”

Daemon leaned close, patting his son on the leg, “I am just glad you two have made this match work for the both of you.”

“We are not married yet, father.” (Y/N) reminded, “Things may yet just fall apart.”

Before his father could speak, another lady made her way to the table. She bowed to both (Y/N) and Daemon. “Prince (Y/N), may I have this dance?”

Daemon snickered, taking (Y/N)’s cup out of his hand. “Well go on, dance.”

His father had disappeared from the table when (Y/N) had finished, and his cousins were wrapped up in conversation with a lord (Y/N) did not recognize. He made his way to the sidelines, stealing a full cup of wine, and pressing his back against the wall to avoid being spotted.

He spied his father in the middle of the dancing, twirling Laena Velayron around, and (Y/N) frowned. His father’s wife, (Y/N)’s own mother, had died only three moons ago, and as far as (Y/N) knew Laena Velayron was engaged to some Brasvosi.

“You would never know this feast was in your honor the way you frown.”

(Y/N) turned to face the owner of the voice, smiling as Ser Harwin took a place next to him. “Ser Harwin.”

“Are you not enjoying the feast, my prince?” Harwin smiled, leaning closer to the prince.

“I am enjoying the wine, some of the company less so.” (Y/N) said, and Harwin laughed.

“I understand the sentiment.”

(Y/N) brought the cup up to his lips, smiling around its rim. Harwin grabbed an empty cup, flagging down a servant who filled both of their cups. (Y/N) watched as his father continued to dance with Laena, and Rhaenyra moved through the crowd, followed closely by Ser Laenor.

Harwin raised his cup up, and (Y/N) followed suit, “To your marriage.”

“My marriage.” (Y/N) and Harwin laughed as their cups met.

(Y/N) spent the rest of the feast by Harwin’s side. Harwin had stopped drinking by his fourth cup, watching in amusement as the prince got drunker and drunker with each cup of wine. As the feast died down, and the lords and ladies took their leave, Harwin had found (Y/N) a seat, and was watching him ramble fondly.

“I do not care for this court, Harwin.” (Y/N) sighed, leaning his head back. “It was simpler on Runestone, but here, here there are too many lords I do not know. I do not trust them.”

Harwin laughed, patting the prince’s leg, “Perhaps a hall filled with those lords is not the place to have this conversation, my prince.”

“(Y/N).” (Y/N) said, straightening. He looked Harwin in the eye, placing his hand on top of the knights. “Please call me (Y/N).”

Harwin’s eyes softened, “Of course, (Y/N).”

(Y/N) smiled at the knight, keeping his hand where it was before two twin coughs behind him startled him. (Y/N) jumped, spilling his cup of wine onto himself. Harwin laughed as (Y/N) turned to look at the people behind him. Daemon and Rhaenyra stood above him, both with twin amused smiles on their faces. They had never looked more related, (Y/N) mused.

“Having fun?” Rhaenyra asked.

“I was informed that this feast was for me, and that I should try to have some fun.”

Daemon laughed at his son's words, grabbing his shoulders and pushing him up out of the seat. “I think it’s time you take your leave.”

Harwin stood, grabbing (Y/N) to help Daemon keep the prince upright. Rhaenyra sighed, a smile still gracing her face.

“I am glad you enjoyed yourself, (Y/N).” Rhaenyra said. “But perhaps next time you can entertain yourself with less wine.”

(Y/N) stepped forward, stumbling slightly and both Harwin and Daemon’s eyes widened as he moved. Freeing himself from the men’s grasps, (Y/N) approached Rhaenyra pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“I am sorry that I left you on your lonesome.” (Y/N) said, letting his hand rest on her arm. Rhaenyra smiled, at his words or his drunkenness (Y/N) could not tell.

She pressed her palm to his cheek, “You are fine. I enjoyed myself plenty.”

(Y/N) nodded. “Good, because this is for both of us. So we should both enjoy ourselves.”

“(Y/N),” Rhaenyra laughed, shaking her head. “Let us get you to your chambers.”

Daemon and Harwin grabbed one of his arms, ignoring (Y/N)’s protests that he could walk by himself. Rhaenyra followed the three men, laughing at (Y/N)’s attempts to break free from the two men, and his drunken rambles to all three of the people accompanying him. When they finally reached the room, with some incident much to Harwin and Daemon’s dismay and Rhaenyra’s delight, Daemon turned to Harwin.

“I have him from here, Ser Harwin will you please make sure the princess makes it back to her room.”

Harwin nodded, and Rhaenyra pressed a kiss to (Y/N)’s cheek. “I will see you tomorrow at the tourney.”

“Goodnight, (Y/N), Prince Daemon.”

(Y/N) and Daemon bid the both of them goodnight, before the guards at (Y/N)’s door open the doors to his chamber and Daemon practically dragged his son into the room. Daemon instructe (Y/N) to lift his arms, and when he did he undid the jerkin and brought the tunic over his head, tossing it to the side.

“Undo your boots.”

(Y/N) complied, and when he was done Daemon led him toward the bed. When (Y/N) was seated on the bed, Daemon turned to leave, but (Y/N) grabbed his arm and stopped him in his tracks. “We have not had our conversation.”

Daemon smiled, “Rest, we will have it tomorrow I promise.”

(Y/N) nodded, “Alright.”

Daemon pressed him down into the bed slowly, pushing the blankets back so that (Y/N) could get underneath them. He brushed (Y/N)’s sweaty hair out of his face, smoothing it down not unlike his mother used to do when he was ill. (Y/N) leaned into the touch, and Daemon smiled.

“Sleep.”

(Y/N) closed his eyes, slipping quickly into rest. But not before he felt the ghost of lips pressed against his forehead.

(Y/N) hated himself the next morning.

He closed his eyes as he bathed, letting the warm water alleviate some of his migraine. He dressed slowly, groaning as a loud knock sounded throughout the room.

“Come in.”

Daemon strolled into the room, taking a look at his son’s appearance before chuckling. “How are you feeling?” (Y/N) just glared at him, causing Daemon to laugh again. He held his hands up in mock surrender. “Sorry.”

Daemon placed a small vile in front of him, and (Y/N) raised an eyebrow.

“It’s watered down dreamwine,” Daemon said, “For your head.”

“Oh,” (Y/N) took the vial, opened it and sniffed it a bit before downing it. “Thank you.”

Daemon nodded, turning to leave.

“Are you not here to continue our conversation?” (Y/N) called out, and Daemon turned back to face him.

“I just wanted to see if you were well.”

“I am.” (Y/N) smiled, “I just have a headache, I will live.”

Daemon nodded, taking a seat across from (Y/N). He looked nervous at the thought of continuing their conversation from before the feast, it endeared (Y/N) to see his father’s usual tough exterior come crumbling down at the idea of a conversation.

Giving his father some respite, (Y/N) changed the topic of conversation, “I saw you dancing with Laena Velayron last night. Is she not already betrothed?”

“A man cannot dance with a lady?” Daemon asked, although his expression gave him away.

“Not when that man is you, father.” (Y/N) said. “Do you wish to get remarried? You have no real need for any more heirs.”

Daemon shrugged, “Perhaps I wish for company.”

“You are lonely?” (Y/N) almost laughed at the thought. He could not imagine the so-called Lord of Flea Bottom wanting for the comforts of a lady.

“Well my only son prefers to spend his time at Runestone pretending I don’t exist.”

(Y/N)’s mood soured, and he frowned. He turned away from his father, crossing his arms like he wasn’t a man of seven and ten and instead a boy of nine. “You did not give me a choice. I was just saving myself from the pain I would feel when you inevitably wouldn’t arrive.”

“I know.” Daemon ran his hand down his face. “I did not mean that I apologize.”

“You know you have missed my last ten name days.” (Y/N) whispered.

“I know.” Daemon said. “I sent you presents but I know that does not make up for my absence.”

“I never received any gifts.”

Daemon looked up in confusion, his expression contorted before he let out a bitter laugh. “No, of course you didn’t. Your mother probably never gave them to you. She never held any love for me.”

“I remember you did not hold much for her either.” (Y/N) spat. “She told me that you fled Runestone the night after I was born, and did not return until my first name day only to flee that night as well.”

“I was a boy, no older than you are now.”

“That is no excuse!”

“No it’s not and I have regretted my decisions every day! I was scared, (Y/N)!” Daemon stood. “When I found out your mother was pregnant I was terrified. We held no love toward each other, and I feared that our hatred toward each other would impact you. I was an idiot boy so I fled. Then you were born, and I was still just this boy, and you were so pure and I could not corrupt that with my hatred so I feld again. I fled again and again, because I was scared I could not be a good father to you, as I could not be a good husband to your mother and she could not be a good wife to me. When I finally realized what an imbecile I had been it was too late, you had no idea who I was.”

(Y/N) remembered the day of his fourth name day vaguely.

“(Y/N),” His mother gestured to a skinny man with pale hair and eyes like (Y/N). “Your father is here to see you.”

The man approached him, and (Y/N) stepped back, placing his mother between him and this stranger. The man’s face fell, and he stumbled back.

“Perhaps it would be best if I left.”

“Daemon-”

“It’s fine.” The man handed a wrapped package to his mother. “Give this to him.”

"You're running? Again?"

"Look at him Rhea-"

"No, run. Like you always do."

The man opened his mouth to speak, but he seemed to think better of it. He turned on his heel and left, and (Y/N)'s mother scoffed.

He had seen his father only a few times after that day, and their meetings had always been brief and curt. His mother had certainly not helped (Y/N)’s view of his father, only ever nodding and staying silent when (Y/N) would complain. He had once asked her why Daemon did not stay for more than a night, and his mother had replied that his father hated the Vale and many of those who resided there. It had crushed (Y/N) to hear, but after learning of the gifts his father had sent that he had not received he could only wonder how much of his own hatred for his father was just what he learned to feel from his mother.

“I am sorry for my absence.” Daemon said. “I can never make up those lost years, and I know my youth and stubbornness is no excuse but-”

His father took a deep breath, “(Y/N), I wish- if you would allow, for us to start again. I know I cannot ask you to forget the years I was not there for you, but allow me to start again.”

“I understand.” (Y/N) said, “I cannot forgive-”

“-I wouldn’t ask you to-”

“-but I understand. I understand more than I did at the very least.” (Y/N) said, and the tension in his father’s shoulders eased. (Y/N) smiled, it was probably a bit pained, (Y/N)’s head throbbing even more with the revelations of the morning. “We can try to start again. I make no promises, but we can try.”

His father smiled, a genuine smile that (Y/N) had never seen across his father’s face before. “Thank you.”

“You are not participating, (Y/N)?”

(Y/N) looked at the queen from where he was seated next to Rhaenyra, shaking his head politely. “I am not a knight, Queen Alicent.”

Alicent looked him up and down, the motion making him squirm a bit. She did not respond but she nodded, turning her gaze back to the tourney fields.

His father was not participating in the tourney either, instead taking a seat in the stands. Ser Harwin was participating though, much to Rhaenyra’s delight. (Y/N) did not find much delight in tourney’s, bloodshed was not a game to be played.

In all honesty, (Y/N) was bored watching the tourney. Ser Criston had won, wearing Alicent’s favor which (Y/N) could tell irritated Rhaenyra. By the time the melee rolled around the next day (Y/N) was dreading spending the hot day in the stands of the tourney grounds.

“May I have your favor, princess.”

Rhaenyra laughed, giving Harwin a small piece of cloth. He tucked it into his armor, turning to (Y/N) who smiled.

“I don’t have a favor,” (Y/N) said, and Harwin smiled, cheeks reddening slightly. “But I wish you luck.”

“Thank you, (Y/N).”

Their luck and favors did Harwin no favors in the melee. Rhaenyra had shrieked when Cristion’s morningstar made contact with Harwin’s collarbone, shattering it and his elbow. But the worst injury of the day had been to Ser Joffrey, and (Y/N) could not get Laenor’s cries out of his mind even as he fell asleep that night.

There were no more tourney’s after that as a solemn mood had fallen over the royal court. Ser Harwin would live (Y/N) and Rhaenyra discovered, but Ser Joffrey was not likely to. And as it happened six days later, Joffrey passed, and Ser Laenor was inconsolable. Rhaenyra and (Y/N) both tried, even if (Y/N) was not as close with his cousin as Rhaenyra was, but in the end the knight took his leave back to Driftmark before the wedding even happened.

(Y/N) spent the night before the wedding with his father. His father told him the story of his wedding with (Y/N)’s mother, describing how (Y/N)’s grandfather, Baelon, had to drag Daemon to Runestone.

“If it is any comfort,” (Y/N) mused. “You had to drag me to Kingslanding.”

Daemon laughed, “I did. But you will have a much happier marriage than your mother and I.”

(Y/N) lifted his cup, “One can hope.”

The wedding itself snuck up on (Y/N), the events of the week leading up to it not allowing him to worry about the ceremony. It was only now that he was dressed in red and gold Valyrian robes, standing atop Rhaenys’ hill, surrounded by the lords and ladies of Westeros, that the nerves started to reach him.

He could hear the distant roars of the dragon’s in the dragon pit as the priest spoke. (Y/N) lifted the dragonglass blade, handed to him by the priest. He made quick eye contact with his father, who only nodded, before slicing Rhaenyra’s bottom lip. He gathered the blood from the cut, dragging his thumb down her forehead. Rhaenyra took her own blade, repeating the action on (Y/N) before slicing her palm.(Y/N) dragged the blade against his palm, taking Rhaenyra’s hand in his. They joined their blood as the priest spoke.

(Y/N) took the cup handed to him, drinking from it, before handing it to Rhaenyra who did the same. The priest finished his rites, and (Y/N) cupped Rhaenyra’s cheek, he could taste the blood as he brought her lips to meet his. (Y/N) rested his forehead against Rhaenyra’s as cheers were sounded around them. When they pulled away and faced the crowd, he could see his father and uncle smiling.

Their hands were wrapped by the priest, covering the open wounds, and they descended down the hill. Rhaenyra did not let go of his hand as they went, smiling at him as he helped her into the carriage waiting for them. “Thank you, valzȳrys.”

Both he and Rhaenyra were dressed in their small clothes separately. He’d been offered food and wine before he was brought over to Rhaenyra’s chambers, but he turned them down. He did not wish to spend his wedding night addled by wine.

Viserys had insisted on a bedding ceremony, and Daemon had no qualms with the idea. But both (Y/N) and Rhaenyra protested. The meeting had ended unsuccessfully, but (Y/N) suspected Rhaenyra had private words with her father, as by the next meeting the topic had been dropped completely and it was agreed there would be no such ceremony.

The doors to Rhaenyra’s chambers were opened by the guards, and (Y/N) stepped into the room. Rhaenyra was sitting by the vanity, brushing her hair in a velvet dress that hung loosely from her body. (Y/N) felt like a hedge knight in his plain cloth clothing.

She smiled at him, placing the brush down on the vanity. She glided across the room, coming to stand in front of him. “Valzȳrys.”

“Ābrazȳrys”

Rhaenyra gently grasped the laces of his tunic, undoing them slowly. She kept eye contact with (Y/N) as she did so, letting his tongue wet her lower lip as the laces were fully loosened. (Y/N) grabbed the bottom of his tunic, bringing it up over his head, and placing it on a chair next to him.

Rhaenyra took a deep breath as she watched (Y/N), she brought her hand up and gingerly traced the contours of his abdomen. (Y/N) took her hand in his, bringing it up to his mouth and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

“Turn around.” (Y/N) said, and Rhaenyra complied.

He stepped forward, brushing her hair to her front so that he could see the back of her dress. She shivered as his breath touched the back of her neck. He undid the laces of her dress with careful precision, causing her to laugh and joke.

“Done this before?”

Instead of responding, (Y/N) let the dress fall down her shoulders, leaving her bare. She stiffened as he pressed a kiss to her shoulder, before relaxing as he moved his mouth up her neck. She turned around and (Y/N)’s mouth went dry at the sight of her bare in front of him. She grabbed his neck, leaning up and connecting their lips. She grasped the laces of his trousers, undoing them in haste and shoving them down his legs. (Y/N) stepped out of them, groaning into Rhaenyra’s lip as she grasped him. He could feel her smile against his lips, and he pulled away bringing his mouth to her chest, eliciting a gasp from the princess.

“(Y/N),” She gasped, and he kissed up her chest to her collarbone and back up to her lips, swallowing her next words.

He pulled her close to him, lifting her so that she could wrap her legs around his waist and carried her to the bed. He gently set her down, and she smiled up at him. He returned the smile, before reconnecting their lips. Rhaenyra gasped as (Y/N) pulled away to mouth at her neck, she tangled her fingers in his hair pulling him up from where there would inevitably be a mark on her skin the next morning.

“Stop teasing.”

“Hen rhinka, ñuha ābrazȳrys.”

---

Translations -

Lykirī - be calm

Sōvēs - fly

Valzȳrys - husband

Ābrazȳrys - wife

Hen rhinka, ñuha ābrazȳrys - of course, my wife

#house of the dragon #house of the dragon x male reader #x male reader #daemon targaryen #house of the dragon x y/n #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen x male reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #x reader #x y/n #Going with a mix of show and book canon because I think it makes the most sense #if Laenor and Rhaenyra weren't getting married the whole Joffery and Criston brawl at the wedding wouldn't have happened like in the show #ALSO not trying to make either Daemon for Rhea the bad guy they just have a complex fucked up relationship and I think if they had a kid #The kid would have suffered through their intolerance for each other as well #also i don't really like that scene but it was important and I reworked it like fifty times so I just gave up #Daemon just felt OOC but idk he's a mysterious guy and we only ever see a bit of his sweet side with Nyra and Viserys but even then he's #Mostly silent so what he would say in those moments is up in the air #I'm ranting but yeah

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arabellasleopardcoat · 10 months ago

Text

The dragon has three heads (Viserys x Reader x Daemon)

Summary: It's Viserys first day as King. You and your twin see him off.

A/N: We interrupt my scheduled hate of Viserys to bring you this. I thought it out when writing another request.

Warnings: Daemon x sister!Reader x Viserys to fulfill double penetration. So oral sex and vaginal sex plus Targcest.

Your limbs felt heavy. Your mind was sluggish and soft, still submerged in the waters of sleep. In and out you drifted, cradled gently in someone's arms. There was noise around you, movement. But your eyes remained closed because you knew you were safe.

A ticklish sensation on the sole of your feet made you pull it up, kneeing your pillow. The pillow made a hurt noise, and you scrunched up your face. You were not ready to wake up yet.

Your pillow shook. You looked up, blinking wearily. Daemon's eyes stared down at you. He was fighting laughter. The light inside your shared chambers was hitting him from behind, making his silver hair shine like a halo.

There was another tickle to your soles. You squirmed, and tried to hide under the sheets. You did not want to get up just yet.

“Come on. Up, sleepyheads.” Your brother's hand curled around your ankle, tugging. You whined more, clinging to your twin. “Won't the two of you see me off today?”

Daemon groaned. Now that Viserys was including him in his plans, he did not seem as amused by your plight. You echoed his noise. Viserys remained as cheerful as ever.

“Is that the way to address your King?” He teased, tickling the arch of your foot. You yipped and kicked the sheets away, letting you as naked as the day you were born.

“Thank the Gods that you are cute.” Viserys said, unbearably fond. Daemon stretched as well, fishing for his own compliments. He, too, was naked. “Both of you.”

You finally turned to face Viserys, finding him already dressed for the day. He even had his crown on. The reminder of your triumph made you smile. Though cousin Rhaenys had a stronger claim to the throne, Viserys was a man. A King always trumped a Queen. And you were the lucky woman who was married to him.

“Morning, brother.” You beamed at Viserys. He beamed right back.

Daemon pulled you closer, pressing his erection to your back.

“And what of your twin? Or are measly Princes no longer enough for you?” He asked, kissing your shoulder. Despite his playful words, you could feel Daemon's hesitation. It was Viserys first day as a King, and your first as his Queen. He probably wondered where he fitted in all of that.

During your whole childhood, the three of you had been together. Where Viserys went, Daemon and you followed. He had been the best older brother that anyone could ask for, always looking out for you.

It had been Viserys who had discovered Daemon and you, all those years ago. When the two of you were nothing more than a young girl and boy, fascinated by the differences in your bodies. Viserys had been the one to teach both of you the pleasures you could pull from it.

The three of you had married under the traditions of your house as soon as Daemon and you reached the majority. Three heads for the dragon, just as your banner, and just as Aegon and his two sisters wives.

It was not unheard of, for Targaryens to wed sister and brother. But what was unheard of was for a woman to marry two men. And so, Viserys and you had married under the Faith of the Seven to prevent a scandal. In the eyes of the realm, you were his, and it was only more cemented by your position as his queen.

It must have upset Daemon, but you knew it was the best course of action as to not attract unwanted attention. It had also been your grandfather's condition. The wounds from Maegor's reign were still too fresh in his memory.

To you, of course, it meant nothing. The bond you had with Daemon was even stronger. You were twins. Two halves of the same soul, separated into two bodies. You were never apart, not even when physically separated, for you were the same being.

Viserys gave you a look. You nodded, and turned to kiss Daemon. If he was in need of reassurances, you were going to give them to him.

You gave Daemon a slow, passionate kiss. You made sure to leave no corner of his mouth unexplored, no inch unkissed. Viserys quietly seated himself on the bed next to your twin, back propped against a pillow, legs stretched. When his hands reached for your back, you finally stopped making out with your twin and laid down, head between his thighs.

Daemon pouted.

“What are you doing?”

Viserys remained fully dressed, in what must have been a confusing sight to Daemon. Your twin and you enjoyed playing different games than this. When you were with Viserys, he liked to play husband and wife. Daemon and you had never fully evolved from the childhood games of slipping a finger in, taking something inside your mouth, raking nails across each other's ribs. While he had taken you as a man was meant to take his woman, it was a rare occasion.

You knew he had fucked other women, common whores and nobles alike. But he always came back to you, and never dared take you in such a way unless you begged for it. He didn't want to defile you, perhaps. Didn't want to lump you in with them. You were still his little sister, his hāedus. Precious, pure, Valyrian. Made by the gods to his image and likeness.

“Come on.” Viserys said, smoothing your hair back. “Doesn't she look good, brother?”

“She does. She always does.” Daemon spoke, as if caught in a trance.

“Will you get me ready for you?” You asked him, pouting. Daemon looked at Viserys. Whatever that he saw, it seemed to please him, for he leaned in over you. The wet, smacking sounds over you, told you that they had started to make out. You took your chance to run your hand over Daemon's stomach, gently scratching with your nails.

He shivered, just as you thought he would. With a gentle hand, you took his member and started to tease him. Daemon gasped.

Viserys’ hands started to pull at your nipples, making you arch from the bed. You felt yourself become slick with want already, arousal pooling in your belly and making you whine wantonly.

Your noises made your brothers pull apart. Viserys chuckled, his caresses turning more insistent now that Daemon wasn't distracting him with a kiss.

“Sweet little whore.” Daemon whispered, brushing your cheek with almost reverence. You pulled him on top of you, rubbing yourself against his thigh without an ounce of shame.

“I want you inside me, dārilaros.” You licked the shell of his ear, playfully. Daemon groaned.

“In your..?” He asked, softly. You never knew him to be so hesitant.

“My cunt, Daemon.” You rolled your eyes. You were his twin, after all.

“But Viserys…”

“I will have her mouth.” Viserys ordered, and finally took off his crown. He set it aside, and opened his breeches. You leaned your head on his thigh, watching him loom over you.

Viserys was the decision maker of the three of you. When faced with dilemmas, he took rash, decisive action. Daemon was mercurial, and prone to sudden mood swings, which often meant that he second guessed himself. You, like Viserys, were stubborn as they came.

A hand on your thigh startled you. It was Daemon, gently making room for himself. You let your thighs fall apart, showing him your slick cunt. He hummed appreciatively, and slowly started rutting against you, without entering. He dragged his tip against your entrance, teasing the both of you, before tapping it against your pearl and starting all over again.

You tried focusing on Viserys, taking him inside your mouth. He was as impatient as Daemon, though, so his hands found immediate purchase on your hair.

“Show me how good of a Queen you are, my love.” His thumb brushed over the slope of your nose, careful. You twisted yourself as good as you could, knowing that when Daemon entered, you would have a hard time doing more than using Viserys’ lap as a pillow.

His manhood was heavy on your tongue, the taste salty and musky. You looked up at him, mischievously. Viserys groaned, and urged you to take him deeper.

But you were a Targaryen and a Queen. You took orders from no one. Instead, you twirled your tongue around him, licking him sloppily. You knew there would be time for deep thrusts into your throat later on. Viserys’ thighs shook under you, throwing off your rhythm.

Daemon got down on his stomach, and sucked your pearl inside his mouth. There was no finesse to the way he was touching you, just pure desperation. It made you jolt and choke a moan around Viserys’ cock.

Daemon needed you wet and open, fast. His own desperation was showing in the way he gripped at you, almost cruel. He pressed a finger inside you and growled.

“You are soaked, little sister.”

You would have given him a snide reply, but you were too busy sucking Viserys' cock. Thank the gods the three of you had stayed up celebrating last night, or otherwise it would have been too much and too fast.

You thanked the gods that the three of you had stayed up last night celebrating, and not gone straight to bed. Otherwise, your body could not take it.

Noticing your distress, Viserys starts rubbing your breasts, softly kneading.

“You are doing so good, my Queen.”

“Our Queen.” Daemon pulls away from your cunt, annoyed.

“Treat her like it, then.”

Daemon grumbles a little, but complies. The desperate fingering of your poor hole slows down to a more manageable pace. Your moans around Viserys lost their pained edge, and you were able to go back to focusing on pleasing him.

Your twin gets more dedicated with his kisses. He slows down, licking your sex from top to bottom until you are squirming and unable to focus on anything else but the way he is kissing you.

You let go of Viserys cock, resting your head on his thigh. Your face scrunches up, jaw already a little sore. You moan, loud and high.

Your older brother gives you a kind look and pets your hair, pushing it back from your face. He seems as mesmerized by the sight of your twin lapping up the nectar between your thighs as you are.

“Be quiet.” He chides. “Or I will take your mouth until you are too sore to cry out.”

The thought, coupled with the way Daemon is starting to push his tongue inside you, makes you kneen. One of your hands timidly goes to his silver hair, encouraging him to go deeper. Your other hand reaches for Viserys, who gives you his outstretched hand to hold.

“Quiet, hāedus.” Viserys squeezes your hand.

Daemon stops his ministrations. He looks up at you, face wet with your slick, and chuckles.

“Give her your cock back, Viserys, if you are that bothered by the noise.”

“I am waiting for the two of you.”

“Afraid I will bite your cock once Daemon presses…” You tease, but before you can finish your sentence, Daemon gives your ankles a mighty tug and buries himself to the hilt inside you. “Ah. Brother…” And you are not even sure which one of them you are pleading to anymore. You have forgotten whatever smug comment you were going to say to Viserys, mouth falling open with surprise and pleasure.

Daemon feels right inside you. Warm, thick and reaching just the place where you need him to. Just the place that makes your smug comments and piling on Viserys fall away, mind gone blank with nothing but the need to give the two of them perfect Valyrian babes. Twins, like you and Daemon, or at least, a litter of siblings that can marry each other and keep your bloodline pure.

“Brat.” Daemon says, fondly. “Stop being mean to Viserys. You need to apologize. Relax your jaw for him.”

So you do. You open your mouth, letting it hang open, and give Viserys your best puppy eyed look. He snorts, very undignified for a King, and places the tip of his cock against your mouth. You whine.

“Spoiled little thing, isn't she?” Viserys pulls his hips away, and you do your best to give chase, whining more. Daemon tuts, and grips you firmly by the waist. Viserys look at him, and they exchange a glance, communicating without a word needing to be said. “Did that look like an apology to you, Daemon?”

“Not at all, brother.” He pulls out of you as well, making you whine more.

“That is so unfair!” You complain. “The two of you are teaming up against me.”

“Like you were trying to do before with me, huh?” Daemon asks, meanly pinching your thigh. You shriek and kick at him a little. “You were being mean to Viserys.”

“Oh, like you aren't!” You squirm away from him, turning on to your belly so he can’t pinch at you. You crawl towards Viserys, hoping he will protect you. Instead, he only tugs at your wrists, keeping them pinned down so you can't move.

You are trying so hard to get free of Viserys’ grip that you make a fatal mistake. You don't notice Daemon at your back, getting ready to strike. And strike he does. He smacks your arse, making you wince and fall forward into Viserys. Daemon smacks your arse again. And again. It's edging into picking of you, rather than just teasing. It's making you unbelievably wet.

“Viserys!” You scream. “Do something!”

“You are a little brat. But so is he. Enough.” Your older brother orders, letting go of your wrists. He gives Daemon a warning look. “Both of you.”

You give Daemon a superior sneer over your shoulder. You stick your tongue out. He snarls, and tugs at your hair.

“You are the Queen and Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. Behave as it befits your station.” Viserys says. “Daemon, inside. You, open your mouth.”

Daemon laughs. You do so as well. Viserys pouts.

“It's an order from your King.” He repeats, pompously.

“Alright, alright. If the King orders it.” You say, and open up your mouth. You make your best effort to let your jaw go loose, and welcome him inside. He is considerate enough to not start thrusting right away, but you know soon that patience will be tested. Viserys is as much of a dragon as Daemon and you are, and he is not one to deny himself of his pleasure. He can take you over and over on his good days, fuck you until you cry, and remain unbothered by your tears. In a sense, Daemon and him are the same.

You feel Daemon's hands on your back, warning you that he is soon to move. You widen your stance, knees falling even more apart. He slides inside carefully enough, but the stretch still hurts. You wince, and Viserys is quick to smooth down your frown with a thumb, very gentle.

Both of your brothers are very tuned in to your reactions. Consequence of being a twin, for Daemon. Consequence of being the eldest, for Viserys. They are cautious about your discomfort. You wonder what would they be like if you were not a Targaryen.

You have heard Daemon could be quite cruel with whores. He had a taste for Valyrian girls, of pouty mouths and tight little bodies, barely out of childhood. Viserys had wandering eyes, and mistook every kindness for flirting. He only read you right because he had known you all your life. They respected your strength and power too much to do anything else.

Daemon hands goes to your pearl, rubbing quick little circles in the hope of making you relax. You force your body to accept his intrusion, and go lax in between them, trusting them to not let you fall.

Viserys starts thrusting into your mouth, shallowly at first. He works on opening up your throat for him, and you try to focus on breathing to your nose. Gagging happens regardless. Daemon jolts you too much once he starts moving not to.

“Seven Hells. Do that again.” He mutters to Viserys, after a particularly vicious thrust on your throat. “She flutters delightfully when she chokes.”

You garble out an indignant reply at their lack of consideration, but you are quickly soothed by Daemon's fingers rubbing your pearl. He keeps his strokes long, making sure to drag against your walls in the most pleasurable way.

Viserys soon starts to praise you under his breath. He is the one who has been teased longer, so it makes sense that he would be the first of the three of you to let go.

“You are so good. Your mouth, sister…”

You grin around his member. You double your efforts, sucking at him and bobbing your head with enthusiasm. Your focus is so much on him that your peak takes you by surprise, and with one last thrust of Daemon's hips, you are screaming around Viserys. The vibrations against him prove to be too much, and he too goes over the edge with a muffled curse. He barely manages to pull out of you, painting your chest white.

Daemon is spurred on by the sounds and sights around him, and he snaps his hips once, twice, thrice, before he is screaming his release. You feel it coat your thighs, and it's only then that you allow yourself to collapse into Viserys.

“I was already dressed for the day.” He complains. “Can't walk into the council covered in my own seed.”

“Change later.” Daemon says, plopping on top of you and by extension, Viserys. Your older brother groans. “You are not going yet.”

“They will come looking for me.” Viserys tries to wiggle out of the cuddle pile, but the weight of your twin, and you combined is too much to do anything.

“Let them come.”

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earenwen-leafwhisper · 3 months ago

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The handmaid and the dragons

Pairing: Child Daemon Targaryen x servant mother nature fem reader, Baelon Targaryen x servant reader, Child Viserys x servant reader, Alyssa Targaryen x servant reader (All platonic)

Summary: Life at the castle can be most enjoyable as a servant when you can take care of two young dragon princes.

Author’s note: Viserys and Daemon are 4 years apart. Daemon was born in 81 and Viserys in 77

Reader are not describe, in my mind she is chubby/plus size, but she can be of all shapes.

English is not my native language, i'm sorry if mistakes were made. I will correct as soon as possible.

After a few months without writing fully, here is the first written of a multitude of ideas that I have in mind for some time. This One-shot could be continued in the form of headcannon or other One-chot, or multiple chapters.

---

The life of a servant was not easy, apart from early morning wakes and short nights due to requests from some residents and guests, not always very understandable and sometimes almost impossible to accomplish (as this noble woman, who wanted to enter one of the princes' chambers in order to try to seduce and marry the man she desired; it was as if that had ended with the dismissal of the said noble woman) did not allow you to have a good quality sleep.

But this life of servant, you would not have exchanged it for any other, because beyond the rebukes of some older servants and lords and lady, who could be haughty. You were in the service of the Targaryens, and although some nobles and peasants did not carry the members of this house in their hearts. You were not treated badly, on the contrary, you were considered better than servants of other smaller houses.

Since your early childhood you remembered having met people with Valeryan blood. Your parents had served under the late reign of Maegor and survived him because of their good labours. They then served Jaehaerys. You had followed their ways, as was customary for the people. You had become multi-tasker, allowing you to be better paid, and help your parents who were beginning to get old to serve the Targaryen house as well. You could go from kitchen to floor scrubbing, from washing clothes to helping princesses dress or hairdressing.

But more than that. More than this work. There were in that castle two small heads with silver hair, for which you had taken affection.

A few years ago, you had become a servant of Princess Alyssa when she was pregnant for the second time. You were one of many servants, but you always did your best to allow the princess to have everything she needed, in order to make it easier for her to wait for the birth of her second child. Being a hectic life, the rest offered and almost ordered by the masters, bored her to the utmost point, towards the end of her pregnancy, she could no longer ride on Meleys and was irritated for nothing, whether it be on the servants, her ladys in waittig. But when she calmed down, unlike other nobles, Alyssa apologized, knowing that she would not have reacted in this way if she was not pregnant.

But even in those moments, you loved the princess, not that you envied her, no, you loved her because she always behaved with respect.

---

When you seen the baby Daemon, you had taken a liking to him, how many times did you manage to give him gifts, however humble? You hadn’t counted, all you liked was to see Daemon play, or eat the cakes that you had prepared in the kitchens during your working hours. Just seeing him smile and recognize you made your heart warm. You didn’t forget the princess or Viserys when you made the cakes, but your favorite was always Daemon.

You always had a maternal nature, to care about others, but that nature is just manifesting more greatly towards Daemon. You never disrespected Alyssa, on the contrary, you worried about her, even though she was your age, you sometimes nursed her slightly, just out of concern for her health, like the day when she took baby Daemon to fly on Meleys’s back, you were worried.

“Princess Alyssa... are you sure you want to do this?...” The masters have advised against your health...”

Would you be afraid that Meleys would face evil against Daemon? Or would you not trust me?

“I have faith in you, princess... I know that you did the same thing with Prince Viserys.... It’s just that...”

“Fear not, Meleys will do nothing against Daemon, it’s only a little theft after all. It won’t hurt me.”

It is the close heart that you watched the princess go towards the dragonpit.

During the whole morning of labor, your mind was not focused on your spots. Every moment you could forget about Alyssa’s flight, something made you think of her or the children. Some servants with whom you shared your time of work, found your behavior strange, not understanding why you showed so much kindness and devotion to the royal family, that family which did not spank attention to the servants and people of the people, At least according to them.

All your stress went away when you saw Alyssa and baby Daemon return, it is with a sincere smile that you welcomed the princess, taking care of her and Daemon with the other servants.

Although you were a simple and humble servant, you had become close to Alyssa over the days, months and years, even when travelling for tournaments or festivities in other parts of Westeros. Alyssa ordered you to accompany her, the other servants did not see this in a good way, nor even the nobles who found it unnoble approach on the part of the princess. For they thought the nobles should stay among them, the others were nothing but nothing.

---

You saw the children grow, the first steps of Daemon towards Alyssa even gave you a small tear in your eye, so proud of Daemon’s progress. Not forgetting the progress of Viserys, He was 4 years old when you met him and now from his future 7 years, he loved playing with you, loving his wooden dragons by lending one only when it was sure to get it back later. He was a rather easy child, even more so because of his attraction for food, asking for cupcakes, the masters had more than once ordered you not to give any more to the young prince, but behind their backs, you gave one or two to please him.

You were not in direct contact with other members of the royal family, except Baelon, whom you saw radiating to the coast of Alyssa, as well as to her sons.

When the news of the new pregnancy of the princess. Everyone was happy, it took three years, but all hoped that the future event would be happy.

Oh... Alyssa...

---

You were awakened in the middle of the night, guards had come to fetch the princess’s servants. The corridors of the castle were dark to the limit of gloom, although they are illuminated by torches. To the right and left you could see servants, midwifes, guards and masters running through all the censes.

You felt a cold sweat through your back, a wind of panic engulfed you. Midwifes, was a sign that the princess was in full labor and about to give birth. But the presence of the masters, was bad omens, they came only when the birth was complicated to see serious. Alyssa was the only known person in the castle who was pregnant and about to give birth.

You passed in the corridor of the princess' apartments, horrible screams pierced ears, spanking you stop at the door, heart pounding, fear to sell, guards took you by the arms to force you to continue walking. You were assigned to the supervision of children while other servants were assigned to take over the orders of masters.

When you arrived, Daemon and Viserys were sleeping, unaware of who was going on in the castle. You sit on one of the chairs, watching the children, while trying to calm your breath, reassuring you as much as you could, praying to the gods, for the survival of Alyssa and the baby (whether you are a believer or not).

It was only in the morning, when you helped the children to prepare (make sure that Viserys does not wear his tunic upside down, tie their shoes), that Baelon entered. His hair was glued to his forehead by the sweat, his breath saccader. You turned your head to look at him before getting up from the ground on which you were kneeling, in order to bow down as required by protocol. But before you got up, Baelon raised his hand to stop you and walked towards the boys.

"My prince..." Your heart was beating, the anticipation of the news was great.

"The work was hard..." Baelon knelt before Viserys and Daemon, before taking them in his arms.

"Work?" Viserys looked at his father with questions.

"Your mother giving birth to a little brother..."

"Little brother?" Viserys’s eyes lit up, while Daemon seemed to be a bit soft.

"Yes, you will soon."

Baelon was happy and reassuring, he gave them each a kiss in the hair before raising his head towards you.

"Alyssa will need you, for now she needs to rest."

"Of course, my prince..."

"I know you’ll look after her."

You shook your head gently, your head was full of questions, all revolved around the princess and the newborn baby, the cries remained in your memory.

You only saw the princess when she was awakened after several hours of being unconscious. She was so full of life, she looked like a living dead, almost diaphanous. Her simple vision gave you a terrible desire to cry. Alyssa, seeing you, smiles softly, feverishly. You walked towards her before sitting down to lean out of her bed and gently take her hand, holding her company, explaining that Viserys and Daemon were happy to see her soon and have a little brother.

Alas, Alyssa’s health did not improve much, after almost a year the princess was very weak.

---

One morning, the nannies who took care of Daemon and Viserys had not been available, between one who was falling ill and the second who had to return to King’s Landing for family business, Baelon, whom you saw rarely, He ordered one of his servants to find you, so that you could look after the children. It was now days that the masters watched Alyssa, who slept more and more, ate less and less. Worrying everyone in the castle.

You decided to please the children, to make them stretch their legs in the company of guards, in the gardens of the castle.

The sun was shining, the light breeze of wind was refreshing, and you had placed yourself at the side of one of the fountains, watching the boys running in the garden gates gave you a smile, temporarily preventing you from thinking of Alyssa, and allowing you to live a little in carelessness. When Daemon fell to the ground after having tripped, he started to cry slightly before watching Viserys continue to run, he watched you with his eyes. You smile gently, before he gets up and walks towards you with tears in his eyes, he showed you his hands, covered with dirt and gravel.

“Y/nickname! Its hurt!”

“It’s all right, my little dragon, I’ll look.”

You gently took his hands, leaning gently to observe his hands, before taking a cloth, for the soaked in water to gently clean Daemon’s hands, he sniffed softly after moaning on contact with the cloth.

"That’s right, my little dragon, you are brave, like a proud warrior.” The tone of your voice was sweet and comforting to the young Daemon.

Daemon looked at you, then looked at his hands red with rubbing against his palms. When you laid a kiss on each of his palms, his eyes lit up, all forms of pain and sadness had withdrawn from his face. After all, soft drops on the little bobos are always miraculous remedies for children.

“Do you want to continue playing?”

Daemon shook his head, a big smile on his face, he went back to join Viserys, laughing as he pursued him.

You only came back at the time of dinner which could not be taken outside, the children in the company of members of the house Targaryen present at the castle, except Alyssa and Baelon, who was at his bedside. As for you, you were eating in haste in the room dedicated to the servants, talking with your friends, discussing the latest news while walking through the dark corridors.

The servants' dinners were often more courtly and of lesser quality than those of the nobles, but it was enough to give energy for all the day’s work.

“Apparently, Prince Baelon refuses to leave his wife’s bedside...” One of the king’s servants had just spoken.

Yes, her health is in perpetual decline, the masters fear that she will not pass on the next moons. One of the servants who had been looking after Alyssa had just answered her.

You listened to the exchange with attraction, trying to get information that had not yet been disclosed. But their discussions stopped when they noticed you. All knew of your closeness with the princess and children, taking care not to tell you about the royal family, lest you speak about it with the princess. You shrugged before looking at your friends and talking to them. It would have pleased the servants who did not like you, to show them that their behavior touched him. It was only when you were called to serve the young princes that you went out into the corridors, arriving near the dining room, Daemon ran in your direction, followed by Viserys. You took them in your arms before walking, a hand in the small hand of Viserys, while Daemon clung to your neck, while you carried it. The guards would follow you, ensuring the safety of the children.

Once in the children’s shared room, Viserys settled into a pillow that covered part of the floor in one of the corners of the room near one of the windows.

You settled down beside him, Daemon sitting on your legs in the direction of Viserys. It was a sweet evening, punctuated by the preparation of their bath, and some childish quarrels.

It was only when the guards opened the doors, and you looked in their direction. that you had a cold sweat.

The queen herself entered, she seemed paler then before, she almost wore a sick complexion. Your heart began to beat, your intuition told you that something serious had happened and how much you would have wished to have been wrong.

---

Tag list : @avalyaaa

#daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #Daemon Targaryen x chubby reader #Daemon x chubby reader #Baelon Targaryen x reader #Alyssa Targaryen x reader #Viserys I targaryen x reader #Servant reader #chubby reader

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ophelieverse · 5 months ago

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all i want to see in this scene is aegon bringing out a baseball bat and destroy that fuckass lego toy table that his father had spent more time making that being with him instead

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l-uminescent · 4 months ago

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━━━━MASTERLIST!

˚⁀➷｡˚ JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY ━━━ JACAERYS VELARYON X FEM! READER

synopsis: you, a daughter of a smaller lord, are invited to lucerys velaryon's ten and eighth nameday. however, all does not go to plan when a certain one eyed prince’s attention sparks jealousy within jacaerys velaryon.

˚⁀➷｡˚ THE GREAT WAR ━━━ JACAERYS VELARYON X FEM! READER

synopsis: inspired by taylor swift's 'the great war’, the reader finds herself making a sacrifice in order to ensure peace across the realm. jacaerys velaryon is more than enraged when he finds out what the reader has done to avoid the dance of the dragons.

˚⁀➷｡˚ HE'S SO PRETTY ━━━ LUCERYS VELARYON X FEM! READER

synopsis: the reader encounters lucerys velaryon after years apart and wonder if he will recognise her.

˚⁀➷｡˚GOD OF OLD VALYRIA ━━━ DAERON TARGARYEN X FEM! READER

synopsis: cregan stark's sister (reader) is sent to king's landing in order to find a suitable marriage arrangement. after a year however, you start to lose hope at finding a betrothed. that is, until the king announces the arrival of his youngest son daeron targaryen.

˚⁀➷｡˚ KINSLAYER ━━━ AEMOND TARGARYEN X FEM! READER

part two.

synopsis: rhaenyra’s daughter seeks revenge for the death of her beloved younger brother lucerys velaryon. and what better way to gain it, than from the man she was once betrothed to.

˚⁀➷｡˚ FISHERMAN ━━━ LUCERYS VELARYON X FEM! READER

synopsis: after the events of storm's end, the seven kingdoms of westeros believe lucerys velaryon to be dead. brutally murdered at the hands of aemond targaryen, the dance of the dragon inevitability follows. however, what the targaryen's don't realise is that luke washed up on the shores of tarth. alive. no memory other than his first name and a love of the ocean, he becomes a fisherman, falling in love with you in the process.

˚⁀➷｡˚ THE EYES OF A DRAGON ━━━ DAERON TARGARYEN X FEM! READER & JACAERYS VELARYON X FEM! READER

synopsis: the dreary weather of dragonstone results in you recalling the events of the past year. your escape from your first love, daeron targaryen leaves you with a new life as a dragon keeper where you eventually learn to love again, much to jacaerys velaryon's delight. with the calling of the dragon seeds you are needed to protect the crowd against the fury of vermithor's wrath. surprisingly however, you find yourself with a new companion, one in which the green's are keen to acquire. as daeron writes requesting to talk to you again after finding out this news, your loyalty to jacaerys velaryon will evidently be tested with the return of your old lover.

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evilgirljesus · 2 months ago

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Christ I want that evil mother fucker

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aphroditelovesu · 11 months ago

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Winter Solstice | Yan!HOTD

❝ 🐉 — lady l: Merry Christmas, my dear readers! I wish you a great day and a prosperous New Year! I hope you enjoy this Christmas special with our yandere family from HOTD! Good reading, forgive me for any mistakes and once again, have a great holiday to you ❤️🎄.

❝warnings: yandere themes, mention of death and obsessive and possessive behavior.

❝🐉word count: 1,941.

A long, long time ago, when the Earth was young and the days were short, people looked up to the sky with wonder and awe. They watched the Sun rise and fall over the horizon, its heat bringing life to the earth and its dark nights bringing a deep sleep to the world.

In the ancient realm of the seasons, each cycle marked the eternal dance between light and dark. As winter approached, a whisper spread through nature. Leaves fell from the trees, animals sought shelter and the nights extended, enveloping the world in a blanket of darkness and cold.

It was the time of the Winter Solstice, a magical moment when the Earth seemed suspended between extremes. People gathered around campfires, telling stories of times gone by, sharing warmth and hope amid the impending darkness.

On the eve of the longest night of the year, eyes turned to the sky, waiting for the miracle. Slowly, the Sun began its journey towards the horizon, fighting the darkness with its golden light. The stars twinkled above, bearing witness to the celestial spectacle.

And then, in the most sublime moment, the Sun began to rise, rising majestically into the sky. The colors of dawn painted the landscape, and people celebrated the rebirth of the Sun, knowing that light and warmth would return to the world. It was a symbol of renewal, hope and the continuous cycle of life.

On the Winter Solstice, people came together to celebrate the courage of the light that faces the darkness, remembering that even in the darkest moments, there is always the promise of rebirth and the light that returns to warm the hearts and illuminate the souls ways.

It had always been your favorite time of year, you loved how the snow fell from the sky and painted everything white, the food, the exchange of gifts and most importantly, it was when your whole family was together. You appreciated more than anything the few moments of peace that your family spent during that date, all happy and together. Like a big, loving family.

Having them all together was what you loved most as you grew up. All the disputes, the fights seemed to disappear during this time of year. Your heart and mind were at peace.

The green of the forest and the fiery red of love and passion. Its fabric was as soft as a spring breeze, a harmonious blend of silk and cotton that moved like leaves dancing in the wind. The predominant green was reminiscent of treetops, its hue varying from a lush emerald green to softer nuances, like newborn buds. The waist was accentuated by a deep red belt, as if it were the blush of the petals of a passionate rose. The intense tone stood out, creating a magnificent contrast with the lush greenery, and a decorative bow added a touch of elegance.

Something beautiful and elegant, with both of your family colors. Of the Targaryens and the Hightowers. There was some small, discreet blue embroidery that symbolized the Velaryon, subtle but standing out in its own way.

You turned to your maid who was looking at you with affection, you smiled at her, ''What do you think, Diane?''

She smiled widely, ''You looked incredible, my princess/prince. A suitable choice for a dinner with your family.'' There was a hint of worry in her tone, but you just held her hands and squeezed them gently.

''Don't worry, Diane. Everything will be fine.''

She nodded, ''Yes... Do you want me to accompany you to where the banquet will be held?''

You politely denied, ''No, but thank you.''

A hint of disappointment flashed in her brown eyes, but she just smiled and after a simple bow, she left the room. You took a deep breath and looked at the ring that adorned your finger, a gift from your grandfather, Viserys. He was sick and you swore to yourself that you would do everything to make this dinner enjoyable for him. He deserved it.

Just as you expected, everything was impeccable and your family was already waiting for you. A majestic dining room, adorned with golden chandeliers that hung from the vaulted ceiling, casting soft light on long solid wood tables.

The walls were covered with richly embroidered tapestries, depicting scenes from Targaryen history and grand festivities. The polished stone floor gleamed in the light of the torches that adorned the walls, reflecting the grandeur of the space.

In the center of the room, a long table stretched out, covered in an immaculate linen tablecloth and decorated with wildflower arrangements and heraldry of noble families. Silver candelabras exuded a soft glow, while golden goblets glittered in the dancing light of the flames.

Music filled the atmosphere as skilled musicians played lutes, flutes and harps, entertaining guests with happy melodies and lively dances.

''(Y/N)!'' Your mother's excited voice called out to you and you smiled at Rhaenyra, who quickly hugged you, placing her head against the crook of your neck, ''You look great, sweetheart.''

''Thanks, mom. You look great too.'' And indeed, she did. Rhaenyra wore a dark red dress decorated with gold that fit her perfectly. She pulled back a little and smiled at you.

''(Y/N)! We're here.'' On one side of the table, your younger brothers sat. You looked at Jacaerys, Lucerys, and little Joffrey, who were smiling at you. You kissed Rhaenyra's cheek and went to sit next to your brothers. Or you tried, for that matter.

For you were quickly pulled to the side as Aegon grabbed you and pulled you closer to him, Aemond, and Helaena. You smiled at your aunt and uncles and greeted them.

''Sit with us.'' Aegon asked and pointed to an empty chair next to Helaena who was smiling sweetly at you. You looked nervously at your brothers, who were staring at Aegon with disdain.

Aemond frowned and placed a hand over your shoulder, ''Come, stay with us.'' His tone said there was no room for argument.

Luckily for you, the doors opened and revealed Viserys along with Alicent, both smiling when they saw you. You apologized to your aunt and uncles and quickly walked over to your grandparents, helping Viserys sit down.

''Ah, (Y/N)... You look great!'' Viserys praised you, as soon as he sat down. You smiled at him and kissed his cheek in thanks.

Alicent pulled you into a tight hug, ''My husband is right, you look great. This shade of green suits you very well.'' She murmured and walked away hesitantly, adjusting your clothes. You kissed your face.

''Thanks. You look amazing too.'' She smiled in response and held your hands, squeezing them gently.

After a few minutes of talking to your grandparents, you walked over to your father and uncle, who were sitting next to each other. Laenor smiled widely and pulled you into a tight hug, not wanting to let go. He only let go when Daemon cleared his throat, irritated.

Laenor rolled his eyes and let go of you, staring at Daemon with an iron gaze. Daemon returned the same look and you acted quickly before they fought.

''Happy Solstice to you both.'' You said, twiddling your fingers nervously. Daemon smiled and patted you on the shoulder twice, pulling you into a hug. You hugged him back.

''Happy Solstice, my child.'' Laenor said after you and Daemon parted ways.

''Happy Solstice, (Y/N).'' Daemon said, looking at you softly. You thanked them and apologized as you left them, wanting to greet your other family members. You spotted Baela and Rhaena sitting near your brothers and quickly walked over to them.

''Finally. I thought you would never come and talk to us.'' Baela complained and got up from the chair and hugged you tightly, ''I missed you, cousin.''

You returned the hug tightly, smiling at her words, ''I missed you too, cousin.''

Rhaena cleared her throat and stood up, hugging you as you and Baela separated.

You smiled at the squeeze and said, ''I missed you too, Rhaena.''

Joffrey got out of his chair and jumped into your arms, laughing loudly when you caught him in a tight hug.

''You're getting too big for me to keep doing this.'' You laughed and rolled him over, placing him on the floor. Russing his dark hair, you smiled when he laughed. You hugged Luke, who seemed especially clingy today. Jace also hugged you tightly and wished you a Happy Solstice.

After talking for a while with your brothers and cousins, you went to greet your paternal grandparents. Rhaenys and Corlys were sitting next to Otto, oddly enough, and the three of them looked at you with affection.

''Grandmother.'' You kissed Rhaenys's cheek who kissed yours back.

''Grandpa.'' You hugged Corlys and he hugged you back and complimented the blue details on your outfit.

''Otto.'' You greeted your great-grandfather, who smiled warmly at you. He seemed relaxed and calm, more so than he normally was.

''Shall we have dinner in honor of this happy day?'' Viserys's loud voice sounded in the room and everyone focused on the King. There was a bit of tension about where you should sit, but you chose next to Viserys and Rhaenyra, who shook your hand under the table.

Servants brought silver trays loaded with delicious delicacies. Large roasts of meat browned on skewers, exuding a tantalizing aroma of exotic spices. Tables were adorned with fresh fruit, from crimson apples to juicy grapes, and freshly baked bread that looked like it had come straight from the oven.

Plenty of wine circulated among everyone and soon everyone was laughing and talking. Your heart felt lighter when you saw your entire family happy, getting along for the first time in a long time.

After the banquet, you all went to one of the rooms of the castle, where the gifts were. The exchange went well, you received gifts from everyone individually and you presented them with what you carefully chose. Ser Criston was present and you gave him a gift too, under the watchful eye of your family, a pure Valyrian steel sword. He smiled in thanks and said he would give you a gift later.

When it seemed like the exchange of gifts was over, Otto said, ''We have a special gift for you, (Y/N). From all of us.'' He gestured to your entire family, who looked on expectantly. You took the gift from his hand, a wooden box with gold details, which was well packaged.

As soon as you opened it, all the color in your face disappeared. It was a head, a human head. You felt like you were going to throw up when you recognized the head. Diane, your servant.

''W-What is this?!'' You groaned, the words stuck in your throat as you held the box, your legs shaking as terror invaded your body. Everyone seemed calm, even Viserys.

''This is our gift to you, my child.'' Rhaenyra said and approached you, placing a hand on your shoulder, ''To remind you not to approach anyone.''

''They can't be trusted,'' Alicent began to say, ''Diane couldn't be trusted. Criston was the one who cut off her head and Rhaenyra, Helaena and I cradled her. The choice of the box was Daemon's.''

They looked at you expectantly, as if they hoped you really liked the gift. Your hands were shaking so much that the box fell to the floor, Diane's severed head falling to the floor.

A perfect ending to a loving Winter Solstice with your family, from their perspective.

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missglaskin · 2 years ago

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Perv!Yan Targaryen Men (Maegor, Jaehaerys I, Daemon, Baelon, Viserys III, Rhaegar, Aemond, Young Griff) with sister!Darling

Note-To be inclusive the reader is adopted, but has targaryen/velaryon blood. Also please do not report this

Tags: Filthy smut, somnophilia, spanking, choking, period sex (Daemon), teasing, masturbation, oral (f&m receiving), fingering, possessive/obssessive behavior, jealousy

Maegor

Maegor loved you. And you loved him. He was your brother. And if the years with him forced you to see the truth. Is that no matter how deeply and intimately you loved him. It’s not enough to stop him from inflicting harm on all those around you. Not even your brother Aenys was safe from his wrath. And finally, you understood why your father shielded you from him. As for all the ‘love’ Maegor held for you, it wasn’t enough to keep him from giving into his desires.

You consumed his every thought. Turning him into an almost state of madness. Depriving himself from you each second adds fuel to the already burning flame within him. It doesn’t matter if any of his wives bore a resemblance to you, if all the women he brought from the street of silk wore your face. If their mouth opens and your voice is heard. If the body they displayed was sculpted like yours. It didn’t matter. Because in the end nothing satisfies him, nothing will bring him to ease only his sweet sister could.

It was he who stole your first kiss. And if he wasn’t, you wouldn’t dare to tell him. As for Maegor, it didn’t matter who it was even if it was one of your lady friends fulfilling your curiosities. The first few kisses were as innocent as Maegor would have them be. But as time goes, the kisses become more and more passionate. Feeling his hands starting to roam and tug roughly on the fabric.

Many times you found yourself over his lap or on some table. Your ass left sore and bruised from the hand that strikes the skin over and over. His jealousy was not to be taken lightly. Daring to giggle at another’s jape, to enjoy yourself in their company, to even glance at them too long for his liking. Is all the reasons Maegor needs to remind you of your place. There’s an eagerness in punishing you, loving to hear your whimpers and pleadings.

His broad hands have become a sort of necklace. Often wrapped around your throat as a warning for disobeying him, the grip loose yet firm. But hearing your gasps for air, the hazy look in your eyes. The sight comes to arouse him. Tightening his grip, listening to your soft whines and groans. He does let go eventually.

It is when the full moon is shining in the night sky that he usually gives in to his desires. Awakened by the force of his thrusts as he snapped his hips against your ass in loud claps. Shivers run down your bare spine as the cold air blows. At the realization of your awakened state, a hand reaches for the nape of your neck and pulls your head upward. Forcing you to keep your eyes open on him.

If you are caught pleasing yourself in any way, you will be met with a harsh punishment. He is so possessive of your body that even giving yourself ecstasy will anger him. It results in you on your knees and hands, forced to endure the slaps against your pussy. You must remain still or the punishment will never end. But it’s not long before you feel his cock slide through your folds.

It doesn’t matter where the two of you are or when it is. There is no end to Maegor's lust. Whether he’s on the throne, having you on your knees. Whether it’s after coming after a battle, bloodied and wounded, seeking your comfort. Whether it’s in the company of his wives. Or the company of servants and knights, but Maegor will behead them afterwards as they dared to look at what was his.

Jaehaerys

Your brother was always told to be wise beyond his years. A man destined to rule from the day he emerged from his mother's womb. Fair-spoken, open-handed, as brave as he was chivalrous. Who could ask for a more ideal man? But even in the strongest of men, how could they hold against the worst threat of all; the yearning, the desire, the lust. If it was a lady or a servant, it would be much simpler. Exiled and never seen again, but what would one do if it was their own sister?

There was not a day where he didn’t feel such shame. He avoided you. Refusing to speak or look you in the eye. You thought your brother hated you. What other excuse would there be. But there was another reason for it. As Jaehaerys found his eyes wandering to any skin that was bare to him. A burning gaze mostly focused on your cleavage, only to forcefully tear his said gaze away.

Jaehaerys is often in denial at how he feels about you. There is an attempt to ease his guilt in thinking of you purposely teasing him, trying to seduce him. Perhaps for political gain. Why else would you visit him late at night, bend down to pick something up for him, to stare at him with those coy eyes of yours. No matter how many times he pushes you away, he never seems to stray away from your side.

There was once an incident. One that no matter how many times he tells himself, Jaehaerys cannot justify. His eye catching the white cloth that remained on the ground of your chambers. Your nightgown. His mind resisted the temptation, but his body caved into it. Through his fingers, the material was felt. Taking it with him. Finding it difficult to converse with you after without letting his thoughts wander to what he has taken.

Your scent is a drug to him. The moment you decide to switch perfumes, he's the first to notice. Whatever fragrance you wear, he has a servant bring it to him. Your scent permeated every nook and cranny of his chambers. Jaehaerys believed that doing this would subdue his urges, but all it has done is intensify his desire for you.

When Jaehaerys is unable to sleep, he knows that he can no longer resist. Not only have you consumed all his thoughts, but his every dream. Imagining you in the most compromising positions. He could just send you to dragonstone and put up with the suffering. But this is all becoming too much.

For one night. Just one night he indulges in his whims. His beard tickles your skin as his mouth is on yours. The length of his cock pushing up into your cunt, spreading out your thigh wide for him. He has fully lost himself in the feeling. After so many restless nights, Jaehaerys can rest, bare body on yours. He does not feel shame until the sun rises.

He tells you it's the last time. No longer should he long after you. Yet he repeats those words again and again. Till he no longer does because he no longer believes it. Finding himself joining your bed that his chambers have been hardly used. Jaehaerys thinks of you as a witch at times. Who casted a spell on him. A spell he's unable to break from.

Daemon

His possessiveness over you was nowhere endearing. Not when he stood over another lord’s son, bloodied fists colliding with the boy’s face over and over because he tried to ‘kiss you’. Not when he locked you in your chambers so you wouldn’t meet your possible betrothal. Not when he was covered in blood all to crown you the maiden of love and beauty at every tourney. Love was believed to make a better man, but not yours, as it made Daemon nearly a beast filled with lust and ferocity.

There was no one who loved to tease you more than Daemon. Chuckling when you grow frustrated at his constant badgering. Some of his jokes are far from appropriate, and the sight of you becoming flustered is all the more enjoyment. Daemon imagines seeing that expression on your face when he finally bends you over. His dick hard under the material just at the thought.

He behaves like a dog in heat. Pressing against you as he whispers all sorts of filth things to your ears. It appears to be a game to him. To see how far he reaches your limits. Having his hands squeeze your chest above the fabric or having them slid under the dress to go between your legs.

Daemon loves it when you scold him. When you smack his hand away. Push him away. Slap his face even. It makes the so-called "game" even more entertaining and, most definitely, turns him on. He adores your fire, and it's the closest you'll ever come to receiving Daemon's heart eyes. Further, your brother knows of your desire for him as well.

Daemon loved to dress you in tight and revealing dresses. For all his possessiveness, there’s a satisfaction in seeing a man's eye with lust, knowing they will never have you. But shall any other man try to approach you, they will come to face him. As well leading to you being bent down over his lap while you are forced to count every strike against your skin until it’s swollen, knowing damn well he put you in this situation.

Through the secret passages of the castle. Daemon is found in your chambers late at night. Where you are groped as his cock slams in and out of your gushing hole. This is all his. He murmurs to your ears. No one should touch you like this. To pin you down. To fuck you like the little greedy whore you are. Only your brother. Only him.

At your time of month. Daemon insists you didn’t need all the maester’s teas and medicines. He was your cure. Head buried between your legs since the pleasure helps ease the pain. His tongue soon replaces his cock. And soon every month, he has you come to him. But Daemon does offer a better solution, one where you never have to worry about such pain. To have his child instead.

There's not a part of you that Daemon doesn't wish to corrupt. He strives to make you want him as much as he wants you. To share his lust. Have you plead for the feeling of his tongue and fingers. Have you drunk on his cock as he's drunk on your pussy.

Baelon

Everyone assumed as the younger, you will be the one to follow Baelon wherever he went, but it was he who trailed behind you. As children, Baelon didn't like anyone interfering with your shared playtime, even Aemon got beaten with a stick for trying. To those nearby, it was all an adorable display. But as now the two of you are of age, Baelon’s possessiveness persisted more than ever. Any innocence that was once shared has been tainted by the desire at play.

Baelon loved to tease you, but it was only him who could do so. Your possessions are taken by him as he swings his arms around, forcing you to leap and lunge to regain them. You are at his mercy if you are ticklish. Pleading and whines escaping your lips. Presenting him your puppy eyes and pouty lips. A sight you didn’t know aroused him. Briefly pausing before quickly regaining his composure.

You didn’t wear a dress more than once. Not out of sheer wealth, but rather you are unable to find them afterwards. Your nightgowns in particular. Baelon felt guilty sneaking into your chambers. And as much as he wants to return them. It’s not much of an option with them mostly covered in cum stains from how roughly he jerked off with them.

Your brother kisses you often on the cheek as a greeting or to bid you goodbye. Though on some occasions his lips ‘accidentally’ brush against yours. The blame being that you moved suddenly. But it becomes harder to pin the blame, as after the first time. Baelon has it happen again and again. That you no longer blink. Even when you are napping and feel lips on yours-you are yet to react.

There is also no reaction to the hand that’s on your thigh. At first, it was subtle and brief. Baelon and you laying in the open fields, jesting and speaking with one another. Until you feel the hand reach under your dress, it rests near your feet only to go higher and higher. Violet eyes on yours as he watches your expressions.

On your name day, Baelon promised you a gift. You weren't given your gift until the evening. Instructed to sit on the table as Baelon moves with his upper body hidden under your dress. Hands reaching to grab into anything as you throw your head back from the pleasure. Certain that the halls resounded to your moans. There won't be much guilt if you come to want him as well.

As keen as he was to please you. Baelon too had his own urges. Your hand able to feel the hardness through the material. Don't you wish to help him. To ease him. Is all the convincing you need. Your brother knows how eager you are to please him. Baelon has you sock his cock many mornings to bring him luck, while stroking your cheek and praising you.

This is wrong and you know it. He always has a way with words that makes you forget about all the repercussions that will follow. And the sensation of his cock buried deep inside of you leaves your mind numb. Your brother knows he has ruined you. Ruined you for any other lord. Not even a knight will have you in this condition. But it's what he intends. How else will you be truly his.

Viserys III

There is no guilt in Viserys' lust for you. You belong to him. Already claimed. After all, you would have been wed in the traditions of your house. Even when only a few of you remain, even when the two of you are a continent away from your ‘home’. Viserys will still uphold his duties. So when his thoughts go to what your bodies will do for the other, why should he feel shame.

Your brother has seen you bare perhaps more than yourself. He hated anyone looking at it. The servants are commanded to turn their gaze unless they wish for their eyes to be plucked out. As he would undress you or take you for a bath, Viserys would examine your body to ensure it was ‘healthy’. Making passing remarks that it will only be truly healthy if your belly was swollen with child and if your tits had milk in them.

Your place was in his lap. Viserys detested you sitting anywhere else. While it was outside in the gardens, during dinners, or you in his chambers. Your back was pressed against his chest, straddling his thigh. Usually with a book in your hand, but it doesn’t last long before your brother throws it across the room because it distracts you from him. But perhaps that distraction was needed, feeling the hands that rest on your thighs and stomach dangerously close to your intimate areas.

Viserys even enjoyed feeding you fruits. Having Illyrio bring in many of your favorites. But with everything else, your brother has no good intentions. Loving the feeling of your tongue on his fingers as you open your mouth to take whatever he gives you. It makes him picture you doing the same to his cock, eagerly taking in your mouth as you do now.

The duty of cleaning him at his daily baths falls to you. Your brother ensures that every inch of his skin has been scrubbed clean. As soon as your hand reaches between Viserys' legs, his hips begin to move to your touch. Keeping your hand there as it’s not ‘clean’ yet.

It’s not long before your brother has you on your knees with his cock in your mouth. His hand on the back of your head forcing you to take all of him. You wish to please your brother don’t you. To make him happy, to make him proud of you. One day, he will become your husband and it is your duty to satisfy his every need. He’s just preparing you for it.

Every night, Viserys shares your bed. It started with touches. Hands resting on your stomach dangerously close to your intimate area. Then there were the hands squeezing your tits, rubbing his bulge against your behind. And then Viserys began to sleep bare. Soon, you came to follow. Waking up with your nipples sore and your body exposed to the chilly air.

When Viserys finally has you. He will seek you again and again. Saying that he has finally made a ‘woman’ out of you. Your back resting on a pillow as your brother breeds you roughly. He forces you to remain like this with the mix of both of your arousal leaking into the sheets behind you.

Rhaegar

Lonely Rhaegar was as a child, nose buried in a book, no interest in friends. Only you, his sweet, sweet sister was his company. And it remained such as that for the years to come. A man like your brother was believed to be valiant, honorable, noble. In spite of the customs of your house looming over you, the relationship you shared was considered admirable and ‘harmless’. Yet no one has ever peeked inside the head of the crown prince where his thoughts are nothing but pure.

For as sweet as your brother was to you, he was an opportunist at heart. For instance, when you are reaching to peck him on the cheek, only for him to turn just enough for your lips to brush his. Amusedly watching as you get all worked up before his hands are on your cheek, closing the gap.

With your mother often confined and your father the way he is. There was no one else to turn to other than Rhaegar. Hiding behind the covers, where an arm instinctively pulls you toward him. Singing you sweet lullabies, wiping away your tears. Your face covered in gentle kisses from your brow to your lips. And you feel his mouth on your neck to your shoulder. But he forces himself to stop as much as he wants to otherwise.

It’s easy to go to Rhaegar in any time of need. Flashing you a sweet smile as he offers his help. Tying the strings at the back of your dress. Tending to your bruised knee. Teaching you how to dance. And you either do not notice or not mind the lingering touches and how his eyes roam your body.

Once, wine was accidentally spilled all over your white dress at a feast. As he always does, Rhaegar moves quickly to assist you, removing you from the room. Protecting you from the prying eyes as he presses you against his chest. And when you are alone, he undresses your dress all while reassuring you that it's fine. Your body begins to feel warm as you watch him savor the scene before him.

As mentioned, you and Rhaegar often shared a bed. He would have you lie with him every night if it weren't such a scrutiny. Your scent was all that remained when you were to depart. When the sheets were removed by the servants, it secretly frustrates him. Helping him picture you underneath as he does unsavory things to your body.

Alone in his chambers, only for his eyes to see. Rhaegar urges to dress in his clothes. The sight of you wearing his shirt, thighs exposed and nipples poking through the fabric causes an uncomfortable strain in his pants. Pulling you to straddle one of his thighs. His hand on your revealed skin and face in your covered chest.

You are used to the roaming hands that rests on all places, your hips, chest, thighs. A new sensation hits you however when the hands move in between your legs. Long slick-covered fingers pressed into your cunt. All to prepare you for what's about to come. He has been patient for so long hasn’t he. Rhaegar has every intention of breeding you, seeing your belly swollen. In bounding you to him.

Aemond

The truth is, you don't know why your brother behaves the way he does. All you know is that despite his refusal to admit it. He was terrified of losing you. Either it will be to his brother, his nephew, some lord, or that knight that you once gushed over. Aemond made himself your ‘protector’. Too focused on shielding you from anyone would take you away from him, when he should be shielding you from himself.

Whether at court or dinner, Aemond is your shadow, following you wherever you must go. Even if you cannot sense him, Aemond is close by. Your every move is under his watch, as he believes it is his duty to make sure you are safe and well. Even as he watches you undress and bathe.

In the hidden corners of the library, you are seated on your brother’s lap. Either sharing a book or having one of your own. If Aemond feels your attention straying, a slap is given to your inner thigh each time you do so. Even when your attention returns to the book, the hand is still on your thigh. His fingers gripping the skin as a warning.

Aemond has a habit of his fingers reaching for your mouth. Either to wipe away the remaining food or to stop your habit of biting your lip. These touches are not purely out of looking out for you. The thoughts that appear in the back of his head cause him to squint with lust. As he pulls down your lower lip with a light touch of his thumb. Resisting the ever needing urge to push his thumb between your lips.

He breathed into your scent. Whenever he would embrace you, he would press his face against your hair or neck. Everything that smelled like you-your clothes-your perfume was taken. It is a dishonorable, repulsive habit he will never admit to. Throwing the things into the fire once they no longer smell like you.

Your mother tried to stop you and Aemond from sleeping together in the same bed, and for a while, she believes she succeeded—had it not been for Aemond finding the hidden passages. Watching you sleep while slipping under the covers. The feelings of his overwhelming love and intense lust entwined. In his desire to kiss every inch of your skin and in his desire to bury his fingers between your legs.

He needed to fulfill his curiosities. Pulling the nightgown down enough to show him tits or pulling it up to show him your cunt. If only he could be satisfied by the sight. If only Aemond was a patient man. Drowning himself in your taste. Your eyes open. Feeling the twitching of your legs the and pressure in the pit of your stomach.

This makes something inside Aemond snap. Even if you were already fully aware of his desire before. All of the frustration that he has been building up suddenly surfaces to meet you. In how little you are left unable to walk. In all the marks scattered variously on your body. In how he stuffs your cunt to the brim with his seed.

Young Griff AKA Aegon

There was no one who loved you any more than your brother. Aegon so thoughtful, gentle, loving, and protective. All things a brother should be. Yet your brother harbors a flame of jealousy and possessiveness that he shows only to those he deems a ‘threat’. There was no forgetting of the such thoughts that roamed your brother’s mind. Leaving him feeling ashamed and guilty.

Everything was done together. Only when the need arose did you rarely separate from one another. At night, the two of you further shared a bed. A practice that Jon himself frowned upon. Where underneath the sheets Aegon clutches you tightly to him. Limbs entwined, his face buried in your neck. Where a devil sits on his shoulder whispering to him to commit the most sinful of sins.

Your brother would kiss you anytime and anywhere. Addicted to the feeling of your lips on his. It was such an intimate act, but Aegon told you it was alright for brothers and sisters to do such things. Even when his tongue stroked yours, even when the kiss lasts more than seconds, minutes even.

He loved leaning into your body. At the open fields, found resting his head on your lap. But he loved nothing more than resting his head on your chest. Cheek pressed to the fabric covering your skin. He hopes you don’t notice the way his face and hands inch closer to your tits. Or his constant movements brought on by the discomfort of his tightening trousers.

You two like to wrestle‌. Though it’s all in good fun, with Aegon making sure to be careful as possible. Laughs are heard as you roll around the ground. But it quickly becomes intimate. When he feels you pressed against him, straddling his waist. Aegon swallows, taking the risk by lightly rubbing his hips against yours all while looking you in the eye.

A quiet moan escapes your lips from the movement. And it gives him the encouragement to further continue, low moans also escaping him. He's all the more reassuring when you tell him how strange this makes you feel. Hands-on your waists to move your hips as well. When the two of you reach your high, the embarrassment slowly seeps in, feeling the mess in his trousers.

You really make it all the harder for him. Watching as you take off your clothes, exposing yourself to him, then beckoning for him to follow as you sprint off to the lake. Aegon does, never wanting to turn you down. It surprises you when he swims up to you and wraps his arms around you before giving you a passionate kiss that nearly took your breath. Unable to contain himself any longer, your brother confesses his sinful desires.

Aegon is tucked between your legs with his face buried in your neck as you have your back against the stone ground near the lakes. He repeatedly professes his love. All of this must be a dream. Finally having you under him. Having you be his, body and soul. He withheld himself from you long enough. Taking a bite of the forbidden fruit, forever addicted to the taste of it.

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