#aegon ii targeryen x reader x aemond targaryen
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Can I please request a Aemond x reader x Aegon fic, where after the brothel scene in ep3, reader (who is Aegon’s wife) tries to repair the brother’s relationship with her pussy. Reader starts off the dominant one as she forces them to make up and gradually it switches and she becomes the one being dominated by them as they start to work together. Include whatever kinks or anything else you want, the main thing is that the brothers are as into each other as they are into reader. Thank you! 🧡
Hi nonnie! Thank you for sending this my way! I'm not sure if I managed to fulfill it perfectly but the muse grabbed my hand and took me down this road, I hope you'll enjoy this!
Warnings: angst, B&C has happened, loss of a child, reference of B&C threatening reader with rape, incest, a quick reference to Lucerys's death, a quick reference to the brothel scene, a quick reference to Jahaera's trauma after B&C, brothers fighting, guilt, mourning, reference to Aegon being unfaithful, Aegon's drunkenness, fear of death on the birthing bed, kissing, oral (f receiving), titty sucking, mommy kink, breastfeeding kink, p in v sex, anal sex, threesome, a bit of manipulation. A/N: reader is AFAB, when needed they/them pronouns used. Reader is referred to as "Wife".
You know it's late, the whole Red Keep asleep around you, yet you can't. You toss and turn in your bed, tired and wired up, your body begging for slumber, yet your brain still running, incapable of setting down.
A loud bang makes you jump with a scream locked behind your teeth. Your first instinct would be to hide under the covers like you used to do when you were a wee child, but that stopped being an option and everyone knows why.
You grab the heavier candlestick you can find and, with a beating heart, you pad to the day room that connects your chambers to the ones of your King husband; the source of the loud noises is there, barely muffled by the thick walls and the tapestries.
You can't hear anything over the mad beating of your heart and the whoosh of blood in your ears. There should be more security after the accident, you're safe, no harm shall befall you, nor your remaining children, then why is your hand shaking when you grab the knob?
With a mad scream you open the heavy door, ready to smash the head of whomever is here to attack you family again, and barely miss Aegon's head.
You can't stop the momentum and topple forward, Aemond's hands grabbing you the only reason you don't fall on the floor. Hastily you shrug his hold off your body and try to stand to regain your dignity, the candlestick held firmly against your heaving chest.
You're not sure of the expression you're wearing, but the smile on Aegon's face dies as soon as he meets your hardened stare.
He can barely stand, his hair an unkempt mop now, when they were nicely styled earlier in the night and Aemond, even though he looks prim and proper, has a strange light in his lonely eye, which doesn't meet yours as soon as you look at him.
"Why are you still awake, Wife?"
You can hear how hard Aegon tries not to slur his words, and that drives you even madder.
"I could ask you the same question, Lord Husband, but I already know the answer."
You advance towards the brothers and see Aegon trying to square his shoulders.
"The whole court knows where you've taken your Kingsguard to sully their sacred oath. You smell of alcohol, Lord Husband. I suppose a brothel is the best place where you can mourn, isn't it?"
Any remaining drunkenness leaves his body at your words, before he can answer, you turn towards your brother in law.
"The same goes for you Aemond, you reek of cheap perfume. At least you're sober, not that it changes anything." You spat, noticing how his whole composure hardens at your accusation.
"You should mind your words, Wife. You're talking to your king."
Your hands tighten around the candlestick at his words, the rage and the unspeakable pain simmering in your belly ever since that night seem to grow into a wildfire: all you've kept locked pushing to explode and destroy everything in its wake.
"My king? My king? Where was my king when those men came to my children's bedroom? My king was playing pretend on the throne with his imbecile friends, that's where he was, my king! Where was he when they cut his head off and threatened me with rape? Where was he when I mourned my child?"
You feel tears and bile well up, but you're not done, you rage is not satisfied, yet.
"I tell you where he was. Whoring around with his friends, promoting them to Kingsguards, destroying his father's scale model! That's where he was!"
You see the color drain from Aegon's face, he looks green as he takes a step behind, grabbing a chair to keep himself on his feet.
"And what about you, Aemond? Where was the man who swore to protect me and my children with his life? The good brother, the one I could trust when my husband failed me? In a brothel. You should have been here, keeping us safe!"
Aemond is different than Aegon, he doesn't show how he feels, yet you know you've hurt him, you can see in the way he stiffens up, his whole body turning into stone, and that's not enough, he's not suffering enough for his slights.
"My boy is dead, my Jahaerys is dead!" You shout. "Jahaera will only feel the coldness of his grave, not the gentle hold of his hand. Do you know, dear king, that she keeps saying that she's cold all the time? That she begs me to bundle her up more? You'd know if you had visited her at least once. And Maelor, my poor Maelor, now he has a target on his back, and no one to protect him."
You can feel wetness flow down your cheeks, on the inside you're hollow now, a void thing that can barely breath, strangled by pain, blinded by tears. Strength leaves your hand, forcing you to let go of the candlestick, the dull thud of it on the carpeted floor evades your ears, all you can hear is the mad sound of your temples beating a mad tattoo.
You don't care about the consequences of your words, what Aegon, what the king would do to you, you just want to be left alone to cry all the tears you haven't already wept.
Blindly you turn and head for your chambers, your hand slips on the doorknob and you don't even notice: you just want to lay on your bed, alone, and mourn.
"Wife..."
Aegon's hold is light on your upper arm, gently he turns you to look at him, all he receives are your fist banging on his chest, and your screams of pain.
"I wish I have never married you! I wished your whole family had perished with Old Valyria! I hate you so much Aegon! It should have been you! It should have been Aemond, not Jahaerys!"
You don't see his pained expression, he keeps you tight against his chest, letting you cry and scratch at his skin.
He knows he's been a lousy husband and a barely decent father. He's the mockery of a king and no good at taking care of the ones he loves; he can't give you Jahaerys back, if he could he would take his place immediately. To bore all your pain and anger is the meager offering he can give you.
"I wished that had happened. It would have saved you all this grief."
Aemond's words cut through your desperate crying. You were so focused on yourself you didn't notice he has followed you and Aegon in your bedchambers.
With light feet he approaches you, impossibly tall and does the unimaginable: he falls on his knees in front of you, head bent, like a penitent at the Sept's altar.
"I have deserted my post, forgotten my promise..."
He can't finish his sentence, Aegon's voice cutting through.
"All to suck on a whore's breasts."
You push Aegon's body away, only to take a few step backwards to distance yourself from both brothers.
You adjust the shawl you're wearing over your nightgown and assess the two of them with an hardened stare.
"Can't you see, Aegon? Even now you can't help but drive a hedge between you and Aemond, a hedge in our side! We need to be more united than ever, least Rhaenyra comes to kill us all, the way she did Jahaerys. Don't you understand that?"
"I didn't go for myself!" Your husband tries to justify his actions. "The young squire needed to know the ways of life before battle."
At that Aemond scoffs and stands up to his full height.
"What are you moaning about? You had your fun back in the day!"
"You didn't even ask if I had any!"
You look at the brothers fighting, again and again. There's a looming threat at Dragonstone, a very real one, that's already damaged the family once, and they're still at each other's throat.
"You might as well save Rhaenyra's time and open the city to her. That would save us the war and, maybe, she'll kill us all swiftly."
Your words cut through their fight, both brothers staring at you, confused.
"The more you work against one another, the easier it will be for her and the Rogue Prince to come and wipe us like an overused candle. You two need to work together, for our sake, for our children's sake!"
"We know how to work together!" Aegon answers, subconsciously looking around for a cup of wine
"Right now you two wouldn't know how to draw a circle using a glass, let alone conduct an army."
"We will never put our differences in the way of winning this war"
You stare at Aemond, trying to assess his words, the weight of trust you can put in them.
"Will you? Show me, then, how you two can work together."
Again the brothers look at you funnily.
"Come on, show me how you can be a team. I don't think you two are capable."
"I... I don't see how."
If the situation weren't this loaded you'd laugh at the dumbfounded expression on your husband's face: he's truly at loss here, and even his smart brother is grasping at straws.
Later, you'll tell yourself grief clouded your judgement. Praying at the Sept with the Queen Dowager you'd repeat that over and over again, right now you perfectly know what you're doing as you throw your shawl on the floor, closely followed by your nightgown.
In the pale candlelight you're naked, soft curves born out of two pregnancies in full display, your heart is hammering in your chest: Aegon hadn't seen you like this even since you two conceived Maelor, and he's always been your one and only, no other man had witnessed your body fully.
You're not willowy as you used to be, you're still breastfeeding therefore your breasts are larger, heavier. Having carried twins has left you with stretch marks on your thighs and bosom, you husband deserting your bed has put a huge dent in the way you look at yourself in the mirror. Yet you carry on, with a voice that desperately hides your anxiety: you have made your move, now it's up to them, and you can't go back.
"Seduce me. The bed is a good battlefield as any other."
You're not sure of their reaction. Aegon has preferred whores ever since Maelor was in utero, and you don't know if you have ever catch Aemond's interest. This can, potentially, go wrong in so many ways, but you're desperate, and desperate people make desperate decisions.
You can see the way both swallow, the pink raising on Aemond's cheeks, how Aegon's hand shakes as he takes yours: you know he desperately needs to drink, how scared he is. For all his boosting, you husband is still a young man, insecure even after whoring himself around Flea Bottom.
Aemond's lips are soft on the meat of your shoulder, he barely kisses you, as if afraid the Gods might strike him for his indiscretion; Aegon's eyes land on your breasts, his hands cup them with a sigh, and you wonder why he hasn't called for you, if he looks like he's missed their familiar weight.
You want to let yourself go in their warmth, feel their touch, so different, on your skin, yet they keep bickering. In between kisses and caresses, they never stop: they're with you in body, in spirit, they're still fighting at the brothel.
"This isn't working." You say, defeated, after they stopped kissing your skin to argue about what to do. "Nothing can truly help you work together."
Head bent you evade their dual embrace and try to locate your nightgown.
"Please close the door on your way out."
You don't see the glance they share, you can't know how the challenge you now pose tickles the blood of the dragon flowing in their veins.
Aegon's hands curl around your upper arms, his hold is firm but gentle: he doesn't want to hurt you, but now he wants to show you what he's capable of doing.
"Not yet, sweet Wife, not yet."
"Let go of me, Aegon."
Swift and silent, Aemond is kneeling at your feet again, this time not like a penitent, but like a crouched animal, ready to pounce.
"You don't challenge a dragon and then decide when to stop, sweet Wife."
"I'm not joking Aegon."
"Nor are we." Aemond's voice is soft, and final. "Say the word and this stops, but you wanted to see us work towards a shared goal. Let us show you we can."
You let yourself be lost in Aemond's lonely gaze. The purple hue of his eye is shifting in the candlelight, their shadows doing nothing to hide his hunger: you'd never imagined he'd look at you this way.
You let out a small gasp when Aegon rests his chin on your shoulder, pouting, like a child.
"Let us, sweet Wife."
You know you aren't capable of deny them when his large palms cup your breasts again. Gently he massages them, moaning at the weight and warmth, his nimble fingers pinch your nipples, so sensitive ever since your pregnancy, forcing a long whine out of your lips.
You grab Aemond's head one handed, the other clenches on Aegon's side as your hips cant faster and faster, following your husband's pinching of your nipples: you're so needy you might come like this, untouched and pressed between their bodies.
"What do we have here?"
Your husband's voice is huskier now that milk has stained his fingers. Ashamed you try to hide your face, but he doesn't let you; with a dark smile he smears the milk on both your lips and your pearl. In the distance you hear Aemond groan with want.
"I'm sorry." You try to say. "There's always so much."
"Don't be. I always wondered what it tastes like."
It's like a dam has broken, when his lips land on yours, hungry and possessive, your mouth is already slack to welcome his tongue with a snuffed moan of want, that morphs into a whine when Aemond's hands grab your hips to smother his face in your center, his long tongue seeking the sweet taste of milk in your cunt.
They both kiss you like they own you. Aegon's tongue playful against yours, Aemond's is sloppy against your pearl, where he writes his love poem to you; his hands don't block your movements, he helps you ride his face, moaning at your taste, foreign and sweet, the vibration traveling your body like lightning, your high so close, so close, the pleasure of Aegon's fingers on your breasts spurring you on. There! There! You're almost there!
You whine, pathetically when Aemond removes his face, wet with spit and your essence, he angles it to look at Aegon, who squeezes your breasts again, until more milk spills and he can drench his hands with it, to use it to paint your cunt, mixing it with your honey, until you're on edge again, ready to explode, only then Aemond attacks you again, sloppy and fast he licks you, seeking that taste as Aegon kisses you with his hands still on your breasts, he massages the soft globes rhythmically, following his brother's hungry pace, driving your body into a frenzy.
Your hips move desperately following Aemond's tongue on your pearl, puffy and pulsating with every stroke, your knees wobble with pleasure, Aegon's mouth swallows all your screams, as pleasure grows and grows yet again in your belly, until it explodes behind your closed eyes.
You're woozy, you're legs are trembling and it's the brother's dual hold that keeps you up on your feet: it has been so long since you felt such undiluted pleasure that your body feels drunk with it.
"Undress, now!"
You try to bark your order but you hear how slurred your voice is.
"You're in no position to give orders."
Aegon's voice is playful, which makes your blood boil again. On trembling feet you turn around and grab the lapels of his half opened jerkin.
"Take your clothes off one another, Husband, now!"
You feel Aemond's hands on your hips, his lips on the base of your spine leave a soft kiss.
"Hae ao jaelagon. As you wish." He murmurs.
On trembling legs you walk to your bed and lie there, with your head on the fluffy pillows.
The brothers stand at the end of the massive frame, they look unsure and excited at the same time; to spur them on your spread your legs, offering the sight of your drenched cunt to them.
"I always have to do the work myself."
You wish your voice was stronger, not needy and broken as it comes out, that doesn't stop you from letting your fingers wander down your body until they reach your wet center. You moan when your pads find your pearl, swollen and drenched, and start massaging it slowly.
"I'm so close already." You whimper. "You two better hurry up, if I reach my end before you're done, you will not be allowed in my bed, aah!"
You try to keep your eyes open to observe the men, who look at you, pleasuring yourself, transfixed.
There's always been this undercurrent between them, energy that even them couldn't truly decipher, you want to see if you were right, if there's something there that goes beyond their brotherly bond.
Aemond is the first to act. With his good eye on you he hastily removes his brother's jerkin and attacks the knots keeping his shirt closed. Aegon seems to awake from his reverie when he feels his clothes being roughly removed from his body, his own hands are fast and hungry as he disrobes his younger brother, his lower lip bitten raw the more he discovers Aemond's alabaster skin; he moans when he sees his erection spring free from the confinement of his leather breeches, his mind imagining how it would feel to submit to the intrusion, to let his brother own his body in such a way.
For a second you don't exist, the room, King's Landing, the budding war, all forgotten when the brothers are naked in front of one another. Aemond's eye softens as it observes Aegon's pink skin, his pebbled nipples and cock, thick and ready: he hasn't been alone in his forbidden needs, it seems, not when Aegon takes a step towards him, only to go to his tip toes to brush his reddened lips on Aemond's.
The dam breaks, Aemond's control and inhibitions annihilated by his brother's taste; hungry he grabs Aegon's face to push it backwards, open his mouth and conquer it with his tongue, following the phantom taste of your sweet milk and Aegon's own, mingled.
Aemond doesn't realize he's pushed his brother's body against one of the columnar foot post of the canopied frame, he whines when Aegon's hand finds their weeping erections to jerk them fast, hungry, their lips disconnecting, only for Aegon to bite Aemond's sweaty shoulder, until the latter whines in pleasure.
"Like what... oh Gods! You see, Wife?"
Aegon is so close, not even in his wildest dreams this could have ever happen: Aemond's cock warm and hard like steel against his, his hips kicking against the wet hold, your sobs of pleasure and your eyes, full of lust and approval for the sight they are offering you.
"Yes! Yes!" You're delirious in your own need, another orgasm so close your cunt hurts with the need to be filled to the brim. "Come for me! Now!"
You try to time your pleasure with theirs, needing to come with them, but your body has a different plan, the knot in your belly breaks and you come, arching your back, screaming and they follow you, Aegon with a shout, Aemond with a long moan, pained when Aegon's hold doesn't release his softening cock. He has to push his brother away, loathing how cold he feels now, his trembling legs abandoning him to fall on the plush mattress, beckoned to you by your wet fingers.
He groans when your taste hits his tongue again, ravenous he licks your finger and moans when you push them inside his hungry mouth as far as they can go.
"Not fair. I wanted a taste!"
Your husband whines; rolling your eyes you spread your legs for him again.
"Come and lick me clean then."
The bed bounces under Aegon's weight, he enthusiastically dives in your center, tongue and mouth so ravenous he has to push your hips to the bed, or you'll break his nose.
You moan, torso arching again, you're so sensitive now, after two orgasms, and your husband knows how to devour you, all the little tricks he needs to drive you high again, ready to explode for him.
Aemond's head finds refuge on your shoulder, hungry he looks at his brother pleasuring you and fleetingly wonders why he seeks whores when he has you, warm and enticing, ready to pleasure him. He doesn't even realize his hand has traveled on one of your breasts, his palm is squeezing the soft globe gently, unsure of how hard he can go, until droplets of milk adorn your nipple, and need takes control again.
"Drink from me, Aemond, come."
Your voice is soft and laced with desire, yet he looks at your face to see if he truly can, and all he can see his your open smile.
"Kirimvose. Thank you." He murmurs, before latching on your breast, hungry like he's never been before.
Despite Aegon's ravenous desire, the orgasm crests slowly, following Aemond's soft suckling and his moans at the taste. Blindly you grab both their heads, drunk on the pleasure they're giving you, deaf but to the sound of your own whines of pleasure, until you come again on Aegon's tongue, who moans against your center, the vibrations pure torture against your pearl.
You lay boneless on the bed, staring at the brothers who, now, look at one another, still hungry for your taste and for each other.
Aegon initiates the kiss this time, one hand in Aemond's long hair he smashed their lips together, seeking the sweet taste of your milk, moaning when Aemond's tongue licks his mouth, only to try to subjugate his.
"He likes to have his hole played with." You say, with a smug smile.
Aemond abandons his conquest to let his brother ravage his neck and shoulder again, a dark glint in his eye.
"Iksos bona sīr. Is that so."
His fingers find the squelching mess that's your center to wet them, only to start playing with Aegon's puckered hole, who whines in response, hips kicking against Aemond's; your word, your order and he'll let his younger brother take him for your viewing pleasure, mind turned to shreds by the need to be buried inside of you, and to let Aemond play with his body.
"Not yet, Aemond." He manages to groan. "I need to come in them."
The brothers stare at one another, a silent dialogue pass as you feel the energy in the room shift while you look at their bodies entwined and tiredness seeps in your bones.
Aegon stares at you, hungry and more in control now that Aemond's fingers have stopped playing with his hole. His cock is so hard again, leaking and almost straining for your cunt; he moans when Aemond hugs him from behind, big hands on his chest, head on his shoulder.
"You have neglected the other breast. Go and do your duty." Aegon orders.
Aemond smirks but Aegon can see how feeble his control is; whatever this night has unlocked, it changes everything between you three, something that was needed.
Aegon lays on you, the cradle of your hips home as he slips inside your warmth; he whines when he bottoms out, so hot and perfect you are, the only true scabbard for his sword, no other cunt has ever felt like yours.
"I missed this." He moans as he slowly pushes in and out of you, unsure that you're listening now that your face is the picture of sexual pleasure. "Why didn't..." You arch and curl under and around him, your words lost for a second. "... call for me? Oh Gods!"
Aegon can feel control slip through his fingers as your cunt strangles his cock after a harsh suck on your nipple, he can feel the tendrils of pleasure spreading through his body with every thrust, flashes of white exploding behind his closed eyes.
"Can't risk... can't risk to lose you." He groans and stills when you curl your legs around his hips. "On... Gods! The birthing bed. I can't!"
Tears fall from his eyes when your caress his back and let him hide his face in the curve of your shoulder: you'd never imagine the ghost of the late queen would haunt him this way, he's never said a word about it, you didn't know if he even knew about her destiny.
"I will not die there, I promise you. Look at me, Aegon." Unwilling he faces you again, his eyes are red rimmed and desperate. "I will never leave your side, I swear on our children, Aegon!"
The mention of your remaining heirs has him cry harder and grab his brother's head to push their forehead together; over you Aemond seems taken aback, he tries to dislodge himself and Aegon grabs his hair with a tighter grip.
"I didn't want to make fun of you, I wanted to hurt you, punch you, make you feel a ounce of what I do even since Jahaerys."
Something had happened in the brothel, something you aren't privy of, something that seems to shake Aemond to his very core; for a second the younger man seems to turn into stone, no expression on his handsome face, before an array of emotions play there. You've never seen him this animated, not even when you saw him after Jahaerys's death.
"I do. Every waking moment." Aemond answers with a strangled voice. "I would have killed them, I would have..."
Aemond chokes on his words and hide his face against your shoulder. You can't see the tears but can feel his bigger body quake with them, over you Aegon seems equally distressed, it comes natural to you to whisper to him to find refuge against you.
You're not sure for how long the brothers cry silently in your arms, you're weeping as well, for the pain past and for the grief ahead of you all.
"I make you cry, always." Aegon says against your skin. "It's good tears, my love. Needed."
Both brothers dry your cheeks, their dual touch gentle and soft. You do the same, paying extra attention to the scar on Aemond's face, unsure of how much pain he feels: he might have kick started the war, but a part of your heart, cold and black, can't seem to pity him for Lucerys early end.
Aemond lets you remove his eye patch, he even smiles when he hears your murmuring how beautiful the sapphire is; he has to fight tears again when you kiss the length of his scar, butterfly kisses his numb skin can barely feel. Against his face you beg Aegon to move, to start taking you again; Aemond seals your lips with a deep kiss when his brother's hips start canting, slowly, reaching deeply inside of you, owning your body after deserting it for many, too many moons.
You're delirious with pleasure, you burn with it, your whole body sings with it as your feel your orgasm crest and crest, until you crash, followed by Aegon, who slumps in your arms as his flaccid cock slips out of your hole. You delude yourself with thinking you can feel his seed seep out of your cunt, warm and sticky; brokenly you beg the brothers to use your body as the shrine where they swear loyalty to one another, until Aegon rolls off you to make space for Aemond.
Your brother in law hovers over your body, his weight carried by one arm, the other in Aegon's hair as he starts suckling on your breast with soft moans of pleasure. You can barely make out Aemond's lovely face through your own tears, yet you can see the insecurity there.
"Have me, Aemond. I'm yours to take."
He murmurs something in High Valyrian, before sliding his erection against your overused cunt to wet it with both your honey and Aegon's seed. He groans when he breaches you, your cunt is so warm and perfect, drenched with your need and it sucks him in when he tries to go slow, mindful of how sore you must feel, the pleasure you're giving him drives him mad with the need to stay rooted inside of you for the rest of his days, your muscles massage him, your lovely voice spurs him on to own you, to spill his seed inside of you. He moans when you lock your legs around his hips, stopping him from pulling away and coming on your soft tummy: he's not going to taint you with a bastard, he'll never do such a terrible thing to you.
"It's too early to take, Aemond. Come inside of me." You plea after his cock head finds that spongy part that has your toes curl in pleasure. "Aemond I'm begging you!"
He can't deny you anything, he'll spend his life making up to you in any way possible; his thoughts frazzle and die the closer you're tethering him to his end, the longer your cunt strangles his cock and he knows you're close, because he's right behind you. With a shout you come, your cunt a painful vise around his cock and he follows you, his seed sucked greedily by your hungry hole.
You order them not to clean you, you want to feel their spent on your skin as you drift into slumber.
Aegon is the first to succumb to sleep, he hugs you from behind with his hands cupping your breasts; you're close as well and make a displeased sound when Aemond tries to leave the bed.
"Your handmaidens will discover us." He tells you. "They know they have to knock before entering." You answer, kissing his wrist. "And if you close the canopy they will see nothing. Lay with me, with us, where you belong."
In the dying light of the fire you see that violent array of emotions on his face again, and wonder if he's ever had the warmth of a lover lull him into sleep.
Fast he closes the thick drapes around the bed and lays on the mattress, facing you. He looks so young, younger than his ears with his air down and his cheeks pink. Behind you Aegon snores and you have to choke on a giggle.
"This is the reason why we sleep in separate beds. He's very loud even when asleep." You smile.
Aemond doesn't speak for an heartbeat, then he has to muster all his courage to ask, almost shy
"Were you serious, before."
You take his hand in yours, letting your fingers entwine with his, so long and strong against your dainty ones.
"I am, Aemond. We can't let this family tear itself apart even more than it already did. I need you and Aegon to work together to keep us all safe. Look what the divide did to us." "If I knew, if I had an inkling..." "I know you would have made good to your promise. And you still can. We have so much to lose."
You know you're being manipulative, then again that part of yourself who died with your poor Jahaerys, that part that's so cold and dark, takes control, and you can't find in your heart to feel bad for what you're doing.
"I have a plan. Cole and I have one, no one knows about it." Aemond tells you after a spell of silence. "It's about Rook's Rest. It's a good plan, solid, it will help us on the long run." "Then talk to him about it before the next Council meeting. He will follow you if you give him the chance. He wants to do what is good by all of us, and he can't if he's left alone on the Throne. You two together can win this war and bring the Realm back to its glory! Not the Dowager Queen, nor your grandsire can do that, but you two, the true heirs of the Dragon."
Aemond stares at you, weighting your words against his torn heart, against all the pain Aegon has put him through: none of it matters if you are all dead and Rhaenyra sits on a throne that doesn't belong to her, warming it for her bastards who will lead the Realm into ruins.
"As you wish." He tells you, the hurt child in himself beaming at your smile. "Come now, you need to sleep."
You wake up in their arms, their erections poking at your holes, and it's only natural that Aegon slips inside of you, and begs Aemond to take him as he slowly fucks you again, long strokes against your battered walls. Aegon wails as Aemond pours oil on his hole and fucks him with his long fingers until the King his reduced into a babbling mess, only capable to grunt and keen when Aemond's bulbous cock head breaches his tight hole: it has been so long since he's let you fuck him, but that doesn't matter, not when he's pressed between you two, fucking and being fucked. Tears spill from his eyes when Aemond orders him to spear himself on his cock, he wails as the dual sensation of being sucked in and being open ravage his mind; he ruts like an animal inside of you, who lay there, canting your hips to take all of him, as he tries to bottom out on his brother's cock. He's a rag doll when Aemond takes control again, grabbing his hips to piston inside of him, and you, harsh and hungry. He bites Aegon's shoulder savagely and the latter drools in pain, and need, passing out when pleasure blanks his mind; Aemond doesn't stop fucking him, using his limp body as a proxy to take you, until you come for him, and he follows, slumping on the bed when it hurts to keep going.
By the end of the war, your husband and your brother in law wear the scars from their battles and you kiss them all. You hug Aemond tight when Vhagar seems unable to survive her clash against Daemon and Caraxes, you have a custom walking stick made for Aegon, whose left leg never healed properly after having slain Rhaenyra; most of all, you make sure your bedchamber is the actual Council, where your lovers can discuss the matters of the realm and find a united front against the Court. It's in your chambers that you three discuss the destiny of Aegon III and Viserys II and how those children can be used to unite the factions still reeling after the victory of the Green. Your lovers are not happy with your proposal, you three need to discuss for days before they can accept that those children can't be slain. They are not bastards, their deaths can be used by Rhaenyra's faction to start the war again, but if Aegon III and your beloved Jahaera will marry, it will bring unity to the realm and, if the child in your belly is a girl, her marriage to Viserys II will only straighten the family. You wish there was another way, but there isn't: those children will be raised at court, where they can learn the truth about the Dance, and how to love the family they have left. By the time they'll grow into men, they will be so entwined with you all, that they will not raise a hand against their wives, and the rest of you. With Maelor, they will lead the Realm into prosperity, along with the dragons, who will raise into numbers again, to make sure no one tries to attack you all. And, if the mad prophecy Viserys entrusted Rhaenyra with, babbled by her bastard son on his deathbed proves to be real, you all will need all the strength the Dragons can provide. And that's all it matters.
Ewanverse taglist: @vhagar-balerion-meraxes @zaldritzosrose
#aegon ii targeryen x reader x aemond targaryen#aegon ii targaryen x y/n x aemond targaryen#aegon ii targaryen x reader#aegon ii targaryen x y/n#aemond targaryen x reader#amond targaryen x y/n#aemond targaryen#aegon ii targaryen
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Happily Ever After
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──── ✧*・゚*✭˚・゚✧ ────
summary | How the Yandere!HOTD characters would react after being told by your father that they cannot marry you
warnings | Smut, mentions of pregnancy, yandere behavior, public sex, violence, mentions of death and sword fights
this fic is eighteen plus. minors please do not enter
divider by @princessbellecerise
Jacaerys Velaryon
Prince Jacaerys grows desperate upon being told he cannot marry you
The usual level-headed and reasonable Prince that people are used to seeing quickly goes out of the window and is replaced by a man desperate to do anything to have you
Not having you by his side was not part of his plan, and it’s simply not an option
Jace absolutely refuses to have anyone else as his partner, and he’ll be damned if you marry anyone but him
After being told no by your father, Jace begins to spiral
Anyone can see that the Prince is clearly not happy, and his behavior starts to become panicked and irrational
Rhaenyra tells him to let it go; to let you go but she doesn’t understand. How can Jace let you go when you’re everything he’s ever wanted?
He tells, no begs your father to reconsider, tells him that he can’t imagine spending his life with anyone else but you
Jace tries to get him to see just how in love the two of are, but unfortunately your father still tells him no. And it’s nothing against Jace, he reassures the prince, but it’s just that—much to everyone’s surprise—your father has already made arrangements to betroth you to someone else
You of course have absolutely no knowledge of this, and you’re stunned when your father apologizes to Jace but it’s still a big, fat no
He sends you both away and tells you not to ask again because everything is final. And even when you burst into tears, begging your mother to not let him do this, your father doesn’t budge
“This alliance is vital for our House, Y/N. I’m sorry, but you will not be marrying the Prince.”
That night, you go to bed absolutely devastated and of course, you want nothing more than for Jace to comfort you. You wish to sneak out and go to his chambers like you normally do, but your father is smarter than you anticipated
As if he knew exactly what you intended to do, he asks Rhaenyra to place a royal guard at your door
No one is allowed in and no one is allowed out, which makes your plan of seeing Jace impossible
You beg and you plead, but the guard does not budge. He simply tells you go back to bed and alas, you do not see Jacaerys that night. Or any night after that
It seems that your father is intentionally keeping you away from the prince, whisking you away every time he tries to approach or arranging your schedule so that you do not run into him
Additionally, there seems to be a guard present for every little thing you do, so sneaking away isn’t an option
If you do so happen to even see Jace, it’s only through fleeting glances and the lack of contact begins to drive you both insane
You can’t stand being away from one another and time is running out. The only reason your family is in King’s Landing is because your father was there for business, but soon he will be finished and you’ll have to go back to your homeland. Without Jace, to marry someone else
The sheer thought of it gives you anxiety, but you’ve exhausted your pleas and by now you know that your father won’t listen
There’s nothing you or Jace can do to change his mind—or at least, that’s what you think
Two days before you’re supposed to leave though, a sudden knock on the door shocks you. When you open it, you’re expecting it to be one of your family members, but nothing—absolutely nothing—prepares you to see Jace standing on the other side; the guard knocked out, Jace’s fist bloody, and a wild look in his brown eyes
When you ask him what the hell happened, Jace responds by telling you that he can’t live without you, and that he was willing to do whatever it took to make you his
He couldn’t let you leave without doing something, and so that night, the prince takes you in every position that he can think of. Missionary, doggy style, against the wall, on the balcony
Anything to breed your pretty little cunt, anything to make sure that his seed takes
Jace hates it, he hates breaking the rules and as heir he knows what he’s doing is wrong
He knows that impregnating you while not being married could potential ruin him, you, and his mother. He knows how the greens would react to a bastard having a bastard, but he’s so afraid of losing you that he doesn’t care
Jace risks everything that night just to make sure that you stay by his side; and it works
A few days later, you still end up leaving with your family but on the journey back home you pray to the Gods that your plan works
You pray that Jacaerys’ seed takes root in your womb and to your utter excitement, you prayers come true
A few short weeks after returning home, you notice that your moon blood hasn’t come and you start to get sick nearly every morning
You’re barely well enough to attend any meetings with your so-called ‘betrothed,’ and it doesn’t take long for someone to catch onto your symptoms
When your maids discover what’s going on, they immediately tell your mother, who in turn tells your furious father
When you finally break the news, you swear that you had never seen him get so angry before. Had your mother not been holding him back, you were sure that he would’ve strangled you where you stood
Alas though, as much as he wanted to wring your neck he knew that harming the future Queen of Westeros would not be a wise decision
After all, there were no doubts about who the father of your unborn child was, and as soon as the news broke your father had furiously written to Rhaenyra and informed her of the situation
As soon you arrived in King’s Landing, you were all but thrown into a wedding gown, modified to fit over your stomach of course
But either way, you and Jace get exactly what you want—the opportunity to spend forever together, and six moons later, a healthy, chunky baby that just so happens to be born three moons sooner than anyone expected
Aegon Targaryen
Aegon is angry when your father tells him no
And it’s not just because of the rejection, it’s also because he knows—Aegon knows that the only reason he says no is because your father doesn’t think he’s good enough for you
In fact, your father flat-out tells him this, and to make things even worse, your father declares that you’ll marry his brother instead—the responsible, honorable Aemond
Like hell Aegon would ever let that happen
You are the one thing Aegon has that Aemond doesn’t. Someone to love and genuinely care for him, and Aegon isn’t going to let that go so easily
He has half a mind to draw his sword and kill your father on the spot for even suggesting such a vile idea, but you beg him not to. Despite heavily disagreeing with your father’s decision, you tell Aegon that there’s other ways to get him to change his mind that doesn’t involve bloodshed
Surprisingly, Aegon listens to you but you should’ve known it was only because he had already thought of something worse
You didn’t know it, but when Aegon lures you into his chambers the next day, he’s come up with a plan
He knows exactly how to get your father to change his mind, and his plan starts the moment he has you naked
Unfortunately, it’s not the first time you and Aegon have fucked so bedsheets are no use to him. No, your lover has to get a bit more creative than that
Somehow, Aegon convinces you to try something new and you end up bent over the Prince’s balcony as he fucks you from behind, his cock driving in and out of your slick cunt
It’s the middle of the day and what you’re doing is beyond risky, not only because you’re not married, but also because literally anyone could look up and see the two of you
You see, the Prince’s balcony just so happened to overlook the training yard, and though it was empty at the moment, Aegon knew exactly when it got crowded
All he had to do was wait for his chance, fucking you so good that you didn’t even grasp the situation
You were none the wiser as to what was happening, eyes closed as you basked in the pleasure. You moaned his name and clenched around his cock, feeling a familiar pinch in your stomach
Just as you reached your peak, you began to hear shouting from below
Startled gasps and a few screams had your eyes flying open, Aegon smirking as you caught the attention of at least twenty people—one of whom was your father
He stood, horrified as the prince locked eyes with him. Seemingly taunting him as he rutted into you, moaning and still fucking you against the railing
Aegon swore that he had never came so hard in his life—expect maybe on your wedding night less two days later, the memory of your father’s face and the satisfaction of getting what he wanted fueling what he calls, “The best fuck of his goddamn life.”
Daemon Targaryen
Daemon is amused upon being told no
He’s amused and it’s because he never really asked for permission in the first place. It was more like…a courtesy warning, and he only did it because he knew you were too scared to tell your father yourself
After all, the Rouge Prince has a reputation and it’s not exactly squeaky clean. Daemon’s track record with his wives is why your father said no, but he should’ve known that no isn’t in Daemon Targaryen’s vocabulary
In fact, Daemon merely laughs in your father’s face, declaring that the two of you will be married in a fortnight, regardless of what your father says
Show up or don’t, Daemon doesn’t care—but you will be his wife
And of course, your father protests, appalled that the prince is so bold
He even goes as far as to complain to the King, but Viserys is old and weak. There’s seldom that he can do to fight Daemon anymore except threaten to exile him again, but Daemon isn’t afraid of punishment
He’ll gladly leave the hell hole that’s King’s Landing, but he makes it clear that if he does, Westeros will never see him or you again
He relays this threat to your father, and in his desperation to keep you away from the Prince, your father all but flees in the middle of the night. Making sure that no one except those loyal to your House know where he’s taking you
Despite your protests and your attempts to alert Daemon, you’re dragged on a boat and shipped off to a far away land, one where your father hopes the Prince will never find you
He even goes so far as to change your hair and make up a fake identity for you, but he was a fool to think that he could ever cross Daemon Targaryen
If the Prince wasn’t annoyed with your father before, then Daemon is most certainly furious when he learns that he’s all but kidnapped you
He sets to work on finding you almost immediately, and he swears once he does he’ll kill anyone that helped with this ridiculous scheme
He starts his search by fiercely questioning all of the guards and servants that were tending to you. And because he’s Daemon Targaryen, it doesn’t take long to get the answers he’s looking for
With one look at Caraxes, the so-called men that were loyal to your house end up folding pretty quickly. Daemon has them all but fighting each other to give up your location, though unfortunately their honesty isn’t enough to spare their lives
In his pursuit to get where you are, Daemon leaves a trail of bodies
He kills anyone that he suspects of helping your father, though his rage won’t be satisfied until he confronts the man himself
And what do you know—your father truly is a fool of a man because it turns out that he took you to Pentos. Pentos, the land where Daemon Targaryen lived for years
Why he thought that was a good idea, no one knows. Perhaps he thought that hiding you in plain sight would be enough to fool Daemon, but unfortunately the rouge Prince is much too smart for that
And due to all of the connections Daemon has in the city (and his dragon) it takes him less than a week to locate you
He finds you hiding just on the outskirts of the city, in some rundown village. You look miserable as you chat with some of the locals, hatching your own plans to escape and somehow get back to Daemon
Your father was asleep in the house that you shared, though the beat of Caraxes’ wings are enough to alert you both, your father waking up and running outside just as Daemon lands in front of you
The Prince wears a smirk of triumph as he dismounts his dragon, taking in your father’s horrified face and laughing
He enjoys the moment almost as much as he enjoys the way you immediately run to you, ignoring your father’s protests and shouts to come back
It’s obvious who you choose by the way you hang onto Daemon, hiding behind him while Caraxes roars
There’s a moment where everything seems to stand still, and Daemon drinks in his moment of victory before slowly gesturing you towards his dragon, helping you mount
As you climb onto the red beast, Daemon slipping in the saddle behind you, the last thing your father sees is the smirk that adorns Daemon’s face
Lilac eyes with with his own, and then, Prince’s lips utter a single word
“Dracarys.”
Lucerys Velaryon
Poor Luke is devastated when your father rejects his proposal
It took all he had to muster up the courage to even ask, and now he’s crushed that he won’t be able to marry the love his life
Not only that, Luke genuinely cannot see himself with anyone else. You’re it for him, and he’s determined to be with you no matter what
Call it young love or maybe just sheer stupidity, but one night Luke sneaks into your chambers and hatches a plan
He tells you that there’s a way for you to be together, a way for you to have your happy ending after all. All you have to do is come with him, and he’ll take you to a place where no one, including your father, can come between you two ever again
And that night, when you flee with the Prince on the back of Arrax, it almost feels like a fairytale. You’ve never felt more alive than you did as you watched the Red Keep disappear into the night
With your heart beating as fast as Arrax’s wings, you and Luke run away, neither of you thinking of the consequences, or caring
You’re just so happy to be together that everything else falls into the background. Caught up in your own bliss, you and Luke flee to Essos where the Prince has arranged for you to be married
Like he promised, no one is there to object or to stop you from becoming one. They’re all too busy in King’s Landing looking for you both, your mother distraught and your father wondering what happened to his youngest child
Likewise, Rhaneyra nearly collapses when she finds out that Luke is missing, but Daemon reassures her he’ll be back. He doesn’t know when, he tells her, but he has a sneaking suspicion that when he does you’ll be in tow
And what do you know—four moons go by and it turns out that Daemon was right. You and Luke return to King’s Landing after all, and upon arrival you’re greeted by your weeping mother and your
concerned father
They both have so many questions—where have you been, what happened, why did you run away?
And everyone is so focused on questioning you, so relieved that the Prince isn’t dead after all, that they almost miss the glaringly obvious bump that’s concealed behind your blue dress
Almost
You try to hide it as best as you can, but when your father pulls you in for a hug you know that he can feel it. The horrified expression he wears when he pulls away confirms this. And when you back away, placing a loving hand over your stomach and settling into Luke’s arms, that is when he also takes note of the matching Velaryon pins on your clothes
“We have something to announce,” Luke tells his mother excitedly
You both share a loving look, and Rhaneyra’s eyes are ready to pop out of her skull when Luke places a hand over your stomach and grins
“Y/N is with child.”
Aemond Targaryen
Aemond takes your father’s words as a challenge
Despite how irritated he is at being flat-out rejected, he decides not to lash out or show any emotion really
For Aemond, keeping a level head is important. It allows him to plan, to strategize like he’s always been taught and to be able to stay one step ahead
He supposes he’s just like his grandfather in a way, and it’s obvious that your father underestimates just how far Aemond is willing to go for you
The first man that your father agrees to betroth you to only lasts about five minutes in the duel Aemond challenges him to
The second fairs a little better, though not by much. By the third, your father is furious and it’s become a game for Aemond to see how fast his opponent can last before they ultimately meet their maker
He wears a smirk the entire time he’s fighting, easily ducking and dodging and occasionally striking which wounds the man heavily. It’s obvious that he’s going to win, again, and the sobs and screams from the Lord’s family are hard to miss
They sit next to you in the crowd that surrounds him and Aemond, and every time Aemond lands a blow your father flinches, muttering under his breath how it was a mistake to ever let you meet that man
You on the other are ecstatic, occasionally locking eyes with Aemond and sending him encouraging smiles
You pray after each duel that your father will finally change his mind and allow you to marry Aemond, but it’s not until after the fourth duel does he agree
After a particularly bloody and grueling fight, there are no more proposals. Every Lord that had ever considered asking for your hand is now too terrified to even speak to you, and with the lack of marriage offers your father has no choice but to admit defeat
He agrees to marry you to Aemond, and of course, Aemond feels victorious. He smugly thanks your father for his reconsideration, shaking his hand and promising that he won’t be regretting his decision
#hotd#house of the dragon#hotd x reader#house of the dragon smut#jacaerys velaryon#jacaerys velaryon x reader#jacaerys velaryon smut#aegon ii targaryen#aegon ii targaryen x reader#aegon ii targaryen smut#aegon targaryen x reader#aegon targaryen#daemon targaryen#daemon targeryen x reader#daemon targaryen smut#lucerys velaryon#lucerys velaryon x reader#lucerys velaryon smut#aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen smut#yandere#yandere!hotd#yandere house of the dragon
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saw that you're in your got era so perhaps jealousy headcanons for the got or hotd characters? 👀 literally anyone from these characters - robb, jaime, margaery, oberyn, theon, cersei or ramsay, I'd love to see your interpretation on any of them ! ( or aemond, alicent, aegon, gwayne, OTTO !!, larys, daemon or mysaria for hotd, again whichever era you feel like it !!) and just for future reference, do you write for asoiaf characters or mainly the shows?
'LOVE CAN KILL, [jealousy! hcs]
-GOT / HOTD CHARACTERS X READER-
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⋆ Characters ↬ Robb, Jaime, Margaery, Oberyn, Cersei, Joffrey, Ramsay, Tyrion, The Hound, Aemond, Aegon, Alicent, Gwayne, Daemon
⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; jealousy, and how some characters deal with it ;)
⋆ tags/warnings. GOT and HOTD!characters x female reader. SFW! But naturally, some of these characters get a bit suggestive! Possessive behavior, canon typical violence, etc. Please send in more GOT/HOTD requests! Apologies this took so long, this is more characters in a post than I've ever done lol. Unfortunately I'm not super familiar with Otto, Larys, Theon, or Mysaria, so I decided to pick some characters I'm more familiar with! (Joffrey is my #1 favorite of all time, my sincerest apologies.) Whew, 14 characters ! For right now I'm only writing for the TV shows! (i've only read book 1, lol)
𝑅��𝐵𝐵 𝑆𝑇𝐴𝑅𝐾
♫ “I wasn't thinking when I told you to stay.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella
With Robb, it's all about the body language. And boy, he's horrible at hiding it.
He can have a hard time placing the feeling as jealousy. He was raised to be honorable. But feelings of...neglect run deep with him. Oldest child syndrome, if you will.
Which is why his jealousy most likely manifests in subdued, quiet behavior. Part of him will recognize he's being ridiculous, while another part of him is silently fuming. Fists clenched, he'll send you an intense stare as he watches you converse with another lord.
His emotions leak through his expressions. When he catches you staring back, his gaze will flit down, and he'll wait patiently for you're time. Or...in most cases...he'll march right up, placing himself between you and the man. Maybe a small, "I'll take it from here." If the lord is offering to help you with something.
A subtle touch on the small of your back. It's a small claim, a subtle "back-off."
A lot of his jealousy also transforms into protectiveness more than anything. He'll offer to accompany reader to places he wouldn't normally be concerned about. He's close by, and he's reminding her wordlessly, he's watching over her and any threat.
Finally, when you two are alone, will he drop down that guard of his. Covering up that burning pit inside him with casual humor, you can sense the underlaying seriousness of his voice in his light teases.
"You’re quite popular these days. Should I be worried that I’m not your only admirer?"
He certainly beds you, having something to prove. And only afterwards when you are in his arms, sweaty and warm from the candlelight, wrapped in furs...will he calm down.
"It’s not that I don’t trust you… It’s them I don’t trust. Some men don’t know how to keep their place." He'll whisper, holding onto you firmly.
𝐽𝐴𝐼𝑀𝐸 𝐿𝐴𝑁𝑁𝐼𝑆𝑇𝐸𝑅
♫ “You don't know that you're in over your head.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella
Jaime's jealousy is burning. It's simply the way he was raised. And gods, you are his.
Numerous sarcastic remarks flow between the two of you and the man who he believes has essentially stolen your affections. His taunts are offhand, dry remarks, often directed towards his "opponent" or even you, if he's feeling bitter enough.
"I didn’t realize he was such a comedian. Maybe I should ask him for pointers." He'll say, with that sarcastic drawl. "If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to make me jealous. Not that it would work, of course." He chuckles, but his gaze is sharp.
Depending on the offense, Jaime's reactions differ. If you simply have an admirer, a few...well chosen words are directed towards them. His confidence allows him to not be too bothered. Maybe standing closer, clearly showing off to whatever poor soul thought they had a shot with you.
It's a different story if you are friends with the person involved, or entertain their advances even mildly or jokingly.
That's when the uncharacteristic tension comes out, full of small twitches in his jaw and curt, smug responses. His visible annoyance is uncontrolled.
We saw how he was with Loras when it came to Cersei. If he feels truly threatened, whether it's by another pretty boy, or just someone he feels could...hypothetically...have the upper hand...He'll corner them when you're off somewhere else. And give a small warning, from the Kingslayer himself.
"You seem to have forgotten who you're dealing with, so let me remind you." He leans in just close enough for his words to sink in. "Whatever you think you might be to her… you’re not. Let’s keep it that way, hm? I'd hate to see you make any...lasting mistakes."
𝑀𝐴𝑅𝐺𝐴𝐸𝑅𝑌 𝑇𝑌𝑅𝐸𝐿𝐿
♫ “It was just too hard to push you away.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella
Margaery is smart with her feelings. She knows how to play the game, and play it well. Instead of showing her jealousy openly, she's a touch more composed than most characters on this list.
She recognizes just how precious you are, and admires that. She doesn't necessarily blame others when they become...attached to you.
When jealousy arises, she views it more as a small problem in need of being handled. And she knows how to handle things.
She embraces the graceful competition, subtly outshining anyone who seems to get in the way of her goals. Her goal being you're affection, of course. You're already hers, and she sees no problem in working to keep it that way.
This appears in gestures of strategic sweetness to keep you close, perhaps wearing your favorite gowns on her, and offering that charming smirk. She doesn't shy away from manipulating you, just a teeny bit.
"They’re certainly captivated by you. I suppose I’ll have to work harder to keep your attention." She teases, "Besides, who could ever compare to us?"
Her words carry a playful undertone, but she makes her point clear. Laughing charmingly, threading her arm through yours.
Very rarely does she think she's in any serious danger. She prides herself on being yours and knowing how to keep you on a tight leash. Though...if she feels genuinely worried, she expresses her feelings quite clearly but still gently. She reminds her lover of their shared goals, and all that they've built together.
"My, you do attract admirers easily, don’t you? I’ll have to start guarding you more closely." She gives you a playful look, though her touch on your arm will linger just a bit longer than usual.
𝛰𝐵𝐸𝑅𝑌𝑁 𝑀𝐴𝑅𝑇𝐸𝐿𝐿
♫ “Let me go, but you won't let me go.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella
Oberyn doesn't feel insecure. How could he? He knows, deep down, that you're his. Jealousy isn't something he confines himself too, he views it as an ugly emotion, capable of getting rid of the true wonders love has to offer.
That being said...he is only a man. And he is fiercely protective. If anyone were to flirt with you and you were clearly uninterested, it would be a swift death, or at the very least, he'd make his point clear with a blow or two and a cutting edge remark. Especially if they are a Lannister. He enjoys you being admired, but only to a certain extent.
"Your efforts are wasted, they’re far too captivating for someone like you. I’d suggest you find someone more... suited to your charms." He begins, hand itching for his spear, "Consider this your first and last warning."
Yeah, he means business.
Most of the time, he spins the situation to show-off. Showcase his own passion and devotion to you. If it's simply a friend of yours, he may even offer them to join in. If not, he'll spend the entire night practically worshipping you, promising that he's the only one who could ever make you feel like this.
Similarly to Margaery, he teases you lightly.
"You have a lovely laugh. But I must admit, it’s much better when it’s for me alone."
Oberyn doesn't shy away from PDA either. It's that assertive reclaiming he seems to favor, pulling you close, whispering something that affirms your affections for each other. He'll revel when he watches the other mans face fall in dismay.
He might get cocky, and push it a bit far. By the time he's done, the 'competition' will be utterly humiliated and embarrassed. He'll be smirking at his own quips.
"I assure you, my friend, my lover favors...more substantial things." He motions to the poor mans crotch.
You're gonna have to give him a slap on the arm.
𝐶𝐸𝑅𝑆𝐸𝐼 𝐿𝐴𝑁𝑁𝐼𝑆𝑇𝐸𝑅
♫ “Consequence of loving me can be cruel.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella
Cersei's jealousy is intense and multifaceted, to say the least. It manifests in a mix of cold fury and harsh threats, channeling that anger into much more controlling behavior.
Deep down, she is terribly insecure. Once another man or woman as your attention, and she catches on, she's coolly lashing out. And she catches on quickly.
At first she may appear indifferent, but if you look close enough, you can see the subtly giveaways. The way her lip curls, her nostrils flare, and her knuckles go white gripping her wine chalice.
If you're the first one to confront her, and attempt to reassure her, you'll save yourself some trouble down the line. Guaranteed, she'll deny it, but still make a passive-aggressive remark here and there. But eventually she'll calm down, edges softening.
That rare moment of vulnerability that you're not sure is manipulation or not. She'll look towards the ground, running her thumb over you're hand on her cheek. She'll sit on the edge of her bed, jaw clenched.
Now, it's a whole different story if you don't catch on to the early signs. If you don't manage to reassure or call her out in time, that jealousy implodes.
She may confront you first, anger bleeding through her. She runs on it. She may even threaten you, oblivious to the potential consequences her words might have.
“You think you can charm your way into my affections by paying attention to that little fool?" She's standing up, loathing distorting her features. Her voice raises. "Perhaps I should throw a feast in her honor. Let’s see how charming she is when surrounded by my people."
It's threats and threats and more and more threats...which can be especially worrying if the person she's jealous of is a friend of yours.
Almost every scenario ends with you having to comfort her, treading carefully with the words you say.
Now, when it comes to confronting the competition, she makes it very clear. Though, these threats are often much more impulsive. A swig of wine, and she gracefully moves towards them when you're out of sight.
A faux compliment or two, before she whispers, close.
“You’ll find that my guards are quite loyal to me. A simple command, and they’ll ensure you never breathe the same air as her again.”
It only makes her feel a bit better. But, regardless, she's smiling smugly, feeling proud of herself when the offenders face turns white.
𝐽𝛰𝐹𝐹𝑅𝐸𝑌 𝐵𝐴𝑅𝐴𝑇𝐻𝐸𝛰��
♫ “Too much love can kill.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella
Oh, Joffrey. I'm obsessed with him.
Yeah. He has the worst jealousy issues out of everyone on this list. It's baaaaad. It's a cocktail of insecurity, possessiveness, and entitlement. As someone who has been raised to believe he is above others, and has been coddled his entire life...it infuriates him.
It's the same feeling you get as a child, when someone steals one of your toys. You belong to him. He never grew out of that mentality, or that feeling.
Be prepared for plentiful outbursts of anger. He's a tantrum personified, especially if he feels disrespected. Insecurity grips him tight and refuses to let up until he's either been heavily reassured...or the other person is... taken care of.
And even then, after reassuring him for hours, it may not be enough. You know how he hired a knight to take out Tyrion in the Battle of Blackwater? Yeah. That person will be paid a little 'visit.'
When reassuring him, similar to Cersei, you really have to be careful what you say, or it might make the situation even worse. At that point, he's seeing red.
"I’m the king! You should be grateful for my attention, not chasing after scraps!" He's huffing, pointing to himself as his breathing increases. He'll look at you with an ice cold glare, nose wrinkled in distaste.
He might even force his hand around your face, harshly grabbing you. He looks dead into your eyes, voice clear and low. "You're mine. You belong to me." He's seething.
If he notices you simply looking at anyone else too long, he'll feel beyond threatened in both his masculinity and position as king. Especially if you laugh at another mans jokes, or simply attempt to be friendly with a commoner or lord.
"What’s so amusing? You’d think you’d find better entertainment than that fool." He mutters under his breath harshly, bad habit of picking at his fingers. He'll shuffle uncomfortably. He'll look to you expecting agreeance. It's 100% that mentality of 'Friends? You don't need friends. You have me.'
Yeah, he keeps the very blunt insults coming. Petulant name calling is not above him. Includes, but is not limited too, "Degenerates, Idiots, Commoners, Peasants, or Cretins" which he may describe as being "Stupid, Disgusting, Repellent, Sickening, or Revolting." He's got a LOT of those angry remarks in the bank.
While he may not directly confront the offender, (he doesn't have time for idle threats.) He has his own ways of dealing with them. And that is a public humiliation ritual, making a mockery of any rival. And if they disobey ANY whim of his, they're gone. That one scene with Tyrion at his wedding? That "Kneel!"? He's commanding the same of any man unlucky enough to have threatened his claim on you. Oh, and they're going to be his cupbearer.
Even if they do as he asks, by now his anger will have transformed into that renewed sense of cruelty. "You're fingers or your tongue?...Or I could just cut your throat."
𝑅𝐴𝑀𝑆𝐴𝑌 𝐵𝛰𝐿𝑇𝛰𝑁
♫ “You're gonna suffer now, whatever you do.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella
His jealousy may not be as overtly intense as Joffrey's, but it certainly is the scariest.
In his own words, he prefers being an only child. That same kind of mentality certainly carries over to his relationship with you. He prefers to be the only one you see that way.
He loves a good game, and that's what this is. If anything, it's quite exhilarating for him. Though, he is a huge hypocrite. For a man who thinks jealousy is boring coming from you, he feels it quite freely.
Sees it as a means of asserting dominance, whether that be through intimidation or overt manipulation. He doesn't deny it like most characters on this list. When he's feeling jealous, he says it. It's a small warning for you not to go any farther, lest worse things occur for you or the perceived threat.
He'll go up to whoever you are talking too, saccharine and honorable smile on his face. He'll casually interrupt, introducing himself as Lord Bolton's successor. Despite his calm demeanor, there is a tightness in his face, and a wicked look in his eyes, that only you can recognize. It will make you shiver.
If the rival persists, he'll find it all too amusing.
"You're bold, I'll give you that." He says with a boisterous laugh, and you already know the mans fate is sealed.
Looks like his hounds will be having another meal tonight. He'll have his men go out looking for the man, and he'll question him more...privately, when you aren't there to witness his tortuous taunts.
But for now, his focus is on you, and your loyalty to him. When he excuses the both of you, his hand is gripping yours painfully tight.
By the time you're in his chamber, he's on you, ripping your clothes off with a harsh intensity and pushing you to the wall. His nose is twitching in barely kept anger, forcing you to look at him.
We all saw that scene between him and Myranda when she threatens to marry someone else, and it was not pretty. His eyes are borderline bloodshot, and he can't keep his hands off you or your throat.
"You're mine." He leans forward, through gritted teeth. It's better you don't put up a fight, because he'll be having you and your attention one way or another.
Que the numerous kisses and bite marks soon to follow. And he is not gentle when he's inside you.
You'll never hear from the flirtatious lord again...and if you do, it's only in the prayers of his grieving family.
𝑇𝑌𝑅𝐼𝛰𝑁 𝐿𝐴𝑁𝑁𝐼𝑆𝑇𝐸𝑅
♫ “My love, you are not safe with me.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella
Now, Tyrion's jealousy is more subdued and introspective versus some characters on this list. He has a good sense of self-awareness, and he's intelligent to figure out what he's feeling quite quickly.
At first he'll dismiss it as nothing more than an annoying feeling of insecurity he attempts to cover up. But...it doesn't last long. Especially when someone else makes you laugh. Or when Bronn makes a taunt with a half smirk, that some other fancy lord has taken a keen interest in his lady. (Bronn, you instigator!)
As such, Tyrion resorts to his usual humor to deflect any unpleasant feelings he may have when he's jealous. Similar to his brother, these witty remarks are are subtle intimidation technique, meant to dryly convey his displeasure.
"Ah, the sound of laughter. How quaint. I suppose I’ll have to work harder to earn your amusement." He forces a smile, masking his discomfort. "I didn’t realize I was competing for the title of Court Jester."
These feelings of inadequacy manifest in more self-deprecating ways for Tyrion, given his anger is more controlled. He might opt to drown his sorrows, so don't be surprised if you catch him drunkenly waving his chalice around, doing poor impressions of the so-called-lord that had your attention.
This doesn't mean he won't confront the rival, though. Quite the opposite. While he won't seek the man out, (For his sake, he isn't privy to seeing the tall handsome lord in person. He's not a masochist.) If he happens to come across him flirting with you first hand, or sees him during a feast, he'll make sure to throw one or two gibes out there.
"Desperation looks unflattering on you, my friend. Perhaps you should tone it down a notch." He speaks carefully, nodding to Bronn as a subtle warning. "Or at least the best you can manage..?"
If the rival flirts with you blatantly and in front of him, I can 100% imagine him putting them down. After a flirtatious remark directed towards you, he'll make a dry comment, "Flattery is wasted on me, but do go on; I’m always entertained by those who think they can win my affection." As if it was directed towards him. Probably shuts the man up for a moment.
When the two of you are alone, he'd be very grateful if you could just hold him. Give him that reassurance he craves when his carefree facade breaks. That moment of vulnerability means the world to him.
𝑆𝐴𝑁𝐷𝛰𝑅 "𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐻𝛰𝑈𝑁𝐷" 𝐶𝐿𝐸𝐺𝐴𝑁𝐸
♫ “I need you to go, don't fight me.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella
Listen up, Sandor doesn't take shit.
Jealousy isn't an emotion Sandor is particularly used too. In fact, he didn't think he'd find anyone to love in his lifetime, so the feeling is foreign and unpleasant. And, like a mean dog, Sandor's first reaction is to growl.
He doesn't like it. Says it's constricting, and it pisses him off. Not just the pretty boy lord flirting with you, but the whole situation in general. Makes him feel vulnerable, and weak.
Naturally, his first reaction is to distance himself. He may avoid you, grumbling, spitting out vile and vulgar comments to get you to run with your tail between your legs. It's better for the both of you that way.
"You think they’re worth your time? Just a pretty smile to distract you?" He scoffs, shaking his head. "You could do better. But then again, you always choose to suffer." He motions at himself, and it's a glimpse of that self-depreciation he buries.
But you love him for a reason, and you know that won't end well. Best way to handle him when he's jealous is to be gentle, and to listen.
He doesn't want empty reassurances. He's complicated that way, even if they are genuine. He isn't one for flowery words or overt displays of emotion, so the best way to comfort him would be to give him some space, but continue to take care of him.
It will still frustrate him, but eventually he'll cave. He'll rejoin you, silently, eventually. Won't offer any apologies, but maybe a gruff nod, and you two will commence whatever it is you two have.
In future instances, he becomes much more brutally honest with how he feels. Doesn't sugarcoat it. If he doesn't like someone, even if they are a friend, he expects them gone- or he'll take care of them regardless. That kind of possessive behavior is just something you'll have to work through.
I can imagine him silently brooding if he witnesses someone flirting with you first hand. Typically his size and reputation is enough to scare whoever away. He's looming over them, eyes dark, and ready to defend what's his.
When you take your leave, he'll confront the person with a very explicit threat or two.
"If you don’t back off, I’ll find a nice dark corner to stuff you in- preferably with a pile of shit." Or, "Get any closer, and I’ll rip your tongue out and shove it down your throat."
𝐴𝐸𝑀𝛰𝑁𝐷 𝑇𝐴𝑅𝐺𝐴𝑅𝑌𝐸𝑁
♫ “Get swallowed by the weight.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella
Aemond has the most...complex jealousy out of everyone on this list. It's layered, and the outcome may be unpredictable. It's an emotional and volatile nature that's been building up for years since he was a child.
He often had feelings of jealousy for his brother, his nephews, etc. That trauma is deeply rooted in him, and it's hard to let go of old habits, given it's been present all his life.
You'll watch his head bow in distaste when you make small conversation with other lords. How his eye will gaze at you, almost warningly. His jaw will be clenched tight, and he'll avoid eye contact, looking off to the side in anger. He doesn't want to watch.
If it's a friend of yours, he can be a bit mean, questioning your loyalty a bit harshly.
"Friendship? Is that what you call it?" He speaks, angrily. A thinly veiled threat is directed to you, "It seems more like a prelude to betrayal."
He'll brood in the corner, silently waiting. That is, unless, he deems the man goes too far.
In the scene where he gets his eye put out by Lucerys, the conversation that starts before it happens pretty much sums his jealousy up. He's firm with his claim to Vaghar, and the same goes for you.
When Rhaena states that Vaghar was hers to claim, Aemond responds in kind, "Then you should've claimed her." And puts up a hell of a fight to prove his point. That same possessiveness carries over to his relationship with you. He doesn't back down. You're his.
He has no problems getting in between you and the man he feels threatened of. He offers a blunt threat.
"I could have you torn apart, limb by limb, and I’d sleep soundly at night. Be certain of that."
Guaranteed, mixed feelings of insecurity will rise to the surface. When you two are alone, he'll continue to brood silently, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, and body language tight.
Please do reassure him. He needs it. His eye will soften, and he'll place his hand over yours, leaning into your touch. With a soft huff of an air, a final warning slips past his lips.
"Don’t make me remind you why I’m the only one worthy of you."
𝐴𝐸𝐺𝛰𝑁 𝑇𝐴𝑅𝐺𝐴𝑅𝑌𝐸𝑁
♫ “I wanna hold on tightly.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella
Aegon handles jealousy poorly, much like he seems to handle everything else.
It's like throwing gasoline on a fire. Once that feeling in his chest flares up, it's shown through erratic behavior, sarcasm, and attempts to assert his claim in juvenile, insecure ways. Unlike his brother, he lacks the restraint to simply brood.
No, be prepared for plenty of mocking comments directed towards the man he's threatened of, and showy displays to prove he's the better choice.
Everyone knows he is unpredictable and reckless, and possessiveness drives him to act out. He certainly overindulges to cope with his insecurity, (getting shitfaced) and will gladly push your boundaries to get your attention back on him.
Not to mention the belittling comments he'll make.
"Oh, is that who you’ve chosen to entertain now? I didn’t realize your taste had grown so dull."
Prone to acting overtly clingy, almost like a restless cat. He will attempt to slide over into the conversation, resting an arm around you, or even pulling you away. He doesn't care if it's 'improper.' He probably brings up his status, his bloodline, acting over-the-top.
He's also no stranger to outbursts. His temper may make him lash out impulsively, whether that be towards you or the man whose got your attention. If he's in a particular mood, be ready to deal with a screaming Aegon, threatening to slaughter and burn said rival. His fist will come down hard on the council table.
He also doesn't care if he's making a show of it in front of the council members. Que Alicent or Otto attempting to placate him. He needs to have a cooler head if he's going to be ruling the Seven Kingdoms, and this type of behavior isn't very becoming.
He definitely thinks he's owed some make-up sex, if only to quell the insecure storm raging inside him.
"You think they could satisfy you? Truly?" He says, firmly, as he steps closer. Anger is burning in his words, volume raising. "They wouldn’t even know where to begin."
And he plans to show you that he's right.
𝐴𝐿𝐼𝐶𝐸𝑁𝑇 𝐻𝐼𝐺𝐻𝑇𝛰𝑊𝐸𝑅
♫ “I'm afraid I'll pull you over the edge.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella
Alicent experiences jealousy complexly, just like Aemond. It gnaws on her until she's at her breaking point. Rather than overt displays or confrontations, she attempts to employ more strategic distance...but it always ends up resorting in icy politeness.
She's making her displeasure known through restrained, pointed remarks. Out of duty and pride, she'll attempt to avoid direct confrontation, but she wears her jealousy on her sleeve.
I imagine her withdrawing from the situation at first, if not for anything but her own sake. Her gut reaction, out of insecurity, is to escape the situation. It honestly makes her feel sick.
Unless she's forced to stay...then she'll begrudgingly offer a tight smile. Her responses are carefully measured, and she slips into that role of "queen" rather than a lover.
A part of it stems from passive aggressiveness, and another part of it is purely subconscious.
Speaking of passive aggressiveness, she'll make some pretty cutting remarks, either questioning your loyalty or purposely feigning ignorance to the situation.
"Perhaps I’m mistaken. But I know loyalty when I see it. Or when I don’t."
It's an all bark, no bite threat towards you. But it serves as an aggressive reminder of your connection with her, and that you are now apart of her duties.
If she does interfere beforehand, she'll make indirect remarks about the person causing her jealousy, but will most likely frame it as merely her own curiosity.
Maybe just a touch of self-depreciation, unintentional manipulation. Years of Otto's techniques have rubbed off on her.
"It’s of little consequence, truly. I simply thought I was the one you preferred to spend your time with. I may have misjudged."
𝐺𝑊𝐴𝑌𝑁𝐸 𝐻𝐼𝐺𝐻𝑇𝛰𝑊𝐸𝑅
♫ “Hurts to say it over, over again.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella
In contrast to Alicent, Gwayne has no problem when he feels threatened to step in. He's a member of a powerful house, and a knight no less. Those two things have taught him to be prideful and honorable.
He will defend your honor whenever he deems in necessary, and there are no exceptions. He certainly has a flash of a temper, but he believes he's much more restrained than others, given his training.
If he thinks someone is crossing a line, he'll interfere. He'll position himself quite closely to you, making his presence known.
He offers the man a silent warning, offering a cool, assessing look. It would be enough to communicate his disapproval.
And if the man persists...well...they'll end up with the end of a sword pointed at them.
Similar to Robb, Gwayne's jealousy appears more in his heightened protectiveness. He insists on staying close for your safety.
"Do they need to be reminded that you’re already spoken for?"
Obviously, his noble pride carries on. If he gets pushed, his jealousy will show more openly, taking the man aside, and telling them that he is more worthy of her time and attention. Might throw in a comment about his noble standing.
He'll take you aside when everything is said and done, reminding her his intentions are honorable. Everyone else is just...unworthy.
"You may not see it, but I know men like him. If he truly respected you, he wouldn’t need to linger around someone else’s beloved."
𝐷𝐴𝐸𝑀𝛰𝑁 𝑇𝐴𝑅𝐺𝐴𝑅𝑌𝐸𝑁
♫ "No matter how you feel." Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella
Oh boy, you'll have to keep this man on a tight leash when his jealousy flares up. It's as intense as he is, and he shows it openly.
He'll deny it, or embrace it, depending on the severity of the perceived offense. It's closely tied to that desire for power within him he can't seem to shake. Any affront to your loyalty is an affront to his own standing.
He switches from possessive protectiveness to outright hostility. There's really no in between. It's a raw and unfiltered fury that makes his hand shake and his eye twitch.
He doesn't tolerate rivals, and he's very upfront that he's the only one fit to be by your side. This comes through when he has you all to himself on his bed...
He'll confront the person whether you want him to or not.
"If they value their limbs, they’d remember you’re mine." He mutters casually, pacing around the room.
He carries that hard glint in his eyes. He may even mildly appreciate the sheer balls of the man stupid enough to attempt to flirt with you, but he'll shut it down quicker than anyone on this list.
"You’ve got a bold tongue. I wonder if I should cut it out..?" He'll look to you for permission. It's up to you if you wanna let the dragon loose!
#x reader#game of thrones#got#house of the dragon#hotd#hotd x reader#hotd season 2#game of thrones x reader#robb stark x reader#jaime lannister x reader#margaery tyrell x reader#oberyn martell x reader#cersei lannister x reader#joffrey baratheon x reader#ramsay bolton x reader#tyrion lannister x reader#the hound x reader#sandor clegane x reader#aemond one eye#aemond x reader#aemond targaryen x reader#aegon ii targaryen#aegon targaryen x reader#alicent hightower x reader#gwayne hightower x reader#daemon targeryen x reader
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A brother's duty. // Husband!Aegon ii Targaryen x Wife!Reader x Aemond Targaryen
Summary: Aegon seemed to have noticed how much his younger brother, Aemond, fancies you, as a self proclaimed caring older brother, he decides to fulfill that role by giving Aemond what he wants, which is you.
WARNINGS: afab!fem!reader, dubious consent, threesome, m/m/f, dacryphilia, rough sex, manhandling, slight humiliation, degrading, double penetration, mentions of infidelity (aegon visiting brothels), slight misogyny, breeding kink, tiddy sucking, oral (f. receiving, m. receiving), pussy drunk aemond, lactation kink, cum eating, anal sex, lmk if I missed any! + not proofread.
WC: 4.7k
A brother's betrayal. - can be read as p2
A/N: the anal sex in this isn't "realistic" aka no prior preparation so please don't come at me and go ''that isn't how anal sex works 😡😡😡 you have to do blah blah blah'' ik but this is just a work of fiction so pls just enjoy it // divider credits: @cafekitsune
“Aemond, do you perhaps fancy my wife?” Aegon tilts his head to the side, questioning his brother as they sit together in the library, quietly reading, of course, until the short pale haired man decided to break the silence.
“Brother, this is no place for such discussions.” Aemond tries dodging the question, but Aegon simply rolls his eyes grunting loudly in displeasure, “Just answer the question.” Aegon says annoyed and Aemond pursues his lip, lost deep in thought.
“What if I say ‘yes’?” Aemond asks, “Then I'd have your head for that.” Aegon smiles which makes Aemond shift uncomfortably in his seat, “Come on! I was kidding, do you really think I'd kill my own blood-related brother over a woman?” Aegon laughs loudly and Aemond sighs but he furrows his brows, “She is your wife.” Aemond states sternly, but Aegon shrugs, “And you are my brother.” He replies.
Aemond lets out another heavy sigh, hoping that he'd escape this situation he'd somehow gotten into, “So?” Aegon pushes further, poking at Aemond to answer the question and Aemond hums in irritance before being fed up and answering Aegon's question. “Yes, I do fancy your wife.” He admits, slightly ashamed.
Aemond was a man of the faith, believing in the faith of the seven, and according to the scripture, desiring a woman is a carnal sin, diabolical if she's a married woman, abysmal if she's your own brother's wife.
But Aemond couldn't help it, it's as if though the gods were testing him, not only were you pleasant on the eye but you were also very polite and had the same interests as him, and most probably the only woman — besides his sister — who was not disgusted after seeing his injury.
He knew he had to stop developing an interest towards you once he found out that you were being married to Aegon, but for some inexplicable reason; that only made him want you more, perhaps it was the label of you being ‘forbidden’ that enticed him further, making him yearn to get the taste of the forbidden fruit more than ever.
How he had wished that it was him instead, the one getting married to you, he wished it was he who fucked you, he wished it was him who got you pregnant, he wished it was his babe you waddled all around the red keep with, he wished it was his child that you had given birth to.
But those were nothing more than just wishes, wishes that would never come true, unless a miracle happens.
“That wasn't hard now was it?” Aegon's voice snaps Aemond out of his train of thoughts and Aemond simply hums, “Why did you ask such a question?” Aemond inquires curiously and Aegon smirks at him, “I may not be sober most of the time but the way you stare at her doesn't go unnoticed, your desire burns deep for her doesn't it? I've especially taken note of it when she was pregnant with my child, your eye never left her womb.” He answers and Aemond rolls his eye.
The atmosphere is filled with silence once again as Aemond continues to silently read his book.
“I would've let you fuck her if you had asked me to.” that statement which left Aegon's mouth made Aemond choke on his spit as he stared at him wide eyed, shocked at what he had just said, “Pardon?” Aemond gazes at Aegon confusedly, and Aegon gets a thrill out of this, watching his brother be flustered.
“I said what I said, you could've just told me so, you're my brother Aemond, how do you think I will ever turn any of your requests down?” Aegon says it so casually, as if he was giving an item that belonged to him which Aemond had always wanted so badly, except you weren't an item or an object.
Aemond remains silent, unable to talk because of how baffled he was, but Aegon pressed on, “Don't you wanna feel her cunt around your cock?” This makes Aemond slam his book down and get up, and Aegon raises his hands in surrender, “It was merely an offer, I wouldn't mind sharing her with you, we've shared whores before.” Aegon tries justifying his reasoning and Aemond scoffs, “But she is no whore, she is your wife, you should treat her with respect.” he replies agitated.
“Enough with the sterness, reply plainly, do you want to fuck her or no? I won't ever bring it up ever again if you say no, we'll pretend we never had this conversation.” Aegon sighs before raising his eyebrow.
Aemond swallows thickly, should he take this chance? He always yearned for you so badly, it's like the opportunity presented itself; he could seize it, but he was in a dilemma, not wanting you to face such disrespect, your self respect will be obliterated to pieces, you'd be drowning in self shame.
You were a very dignified lady, a woman who carried herself confidently no matter what, this is why you weren't even affected when Aegon still visited the brothels. As long as the word didn't get out, you were fine with it. You simply did your duty as a wife and a mother. He couldn't imagine you allowing him to fuck you and ruin your honour.
“Decide fast brother, I have to leave soon, it's been a while since I laid with my wife, the maesters had told me to give her a break for a minimum of six weeks, yet eight weeks have passed, my cock craves her cunt so desperately.” Aegon speaks explicitly, and Aemond's breath hitches in his throat, imagining what your cunt would be like. “Then why do you visit the brothels if you seem to like her so much?” He questions, trying to change topics, “That's cause she can't satiate my depravities, otherwise I wouldn't even be visiting those wenches anymore.” Aegon talks as though it was a minor inconvenience.
“Either way, decide quickly.” Aegon urges and Aemond swallows.
He opens his mouths to reject it, but for some odd reasons his mind forms a explicit thought of burying his cock inside your cunt which causes his cock to stir slightly, the blood flowing to it at the mere thought of fucking you.
‘No Aemond, she is your sister in law, your brother's wife, you cannot let this desire succumb you.’
‘But didn't you want this for a long time? Imagine how her cunt would weep when you'd shove your cock into it hm? Her breasts bouncing up and down while you thrust into her.’
He swallows thickly, those internal arguments happening in the span of seconds before he has had enough and made up his mind.
“Yes, I want to fuck her.”
The babe in your arms cooed as you rocked him gently — caressing his chubby cheeks with your thumb as he slowly fell asleep due to your movements, “He's cute isn't he?” You ask the servant that was in charge of him and she nodded, smiling at you.
“Yes princess, the more he grows, the more he resembles his father, Prince Aegon.” She gives her commentary and you give her a small smile and slightly nod your head. The babe finally closes its eyes, going into slumber and you chuckle at his cuteness, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead, just then, the door the nursery opens which reveals ser criston cole.
You were confused as to why the kingsguard was here himself, “Prince Aegon has sent me in search for you, he is calling you to his chambers.” Those words were enough to clarify the situation. He wanted to lay with you, “I'll be there in a minute.” you reply and he nods, you give the babe to the servant before smoothening your dress, and leaving the nursery.
You reach your martial chambers quickly, you turn around to thank Cole and dismiss him, you then open the door to the chambers and shut them just as quickly, taking a deep breath before turning around and venturing deeper into the room.
You spot Aegon sitting in his chair, but what was odd was that he was accompanied by Aemond, who you've meet occasionally and had nothing but a positive opinion on about, you were confused on what he was doing here.
Maybe Aegon did not want to lay with you? Maybe Aegon was trying to get closer to his brother for having a bond of a family? You knew how strongly bonded these brothers are, especially since after whatever happened at driftmark, so it wouldn't be weird to assume that Aegon is trying to get you and Aemond to become good friends.
“Ah, wife.” Aegon gets up from his chair, coming over to hug you, and you return it awkwardly, knowing that Aemond is in the same room, Aegon chuckles at your awkwardness. He quickly gets behind you, pushing you forward until you're right in front of Aemond who stares at you from below, all the while Aegon nuzzles his face into your neck.
You're confused not knowing what's happening, “Brother, undo her front laces.” Aegon commands and you furrow your brows immediately, baffled at how Aegon was behaving, perhaps he had drunk too much? You felt bad for Aemond, probably stuck in this unwanted situation, you try to give him an escape route but you are surprised when his warm knuckles graze against your collarbones as his fingers hook underneath your laces, beginning to pull them apart.
You were perplexed by his actions, not knowing what to do, you grip his arm from further undoing the laces but Aegon forcefully pulls your hands back, holding both of them behind you as Aemond pulls off the corset.
You were wearing a dress with no sleeves, but that did not mean you went completely shoulderless, your shift and chemise beneath you acted as the sleeve’s replacement, so when Aemond undoes the laces that were holding your long gown up, it immediately plummets to the floor, leaving you in your chemise.
Aegon nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck from behind, taking in your scent while placing small kisses on your shoulder, still not letting go of your hands, “Darling, I hope you don't mind Aemond joining us today, he had admitted to me that he fancies you, and as his older brother, it is in my responsibility that i take care of my brothers needs.” Aegon coos into your ear and you bite your lip, you are about to respond but you are interrupted by your own gasp when you feel Aemond caress your breasts, squeezing the flesh and playing with them.
“I'm afraid— I don't understand?.” You reply confusedly, staring at Aemond play with the mounds of your breasts, and Aegon chuckles into your ear pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear, “I'm simply allowing him to wet his dick inside your cunt.” Aegon puts it plainly, making you bite your lip in shame; all the while Aemond's hand slowly travels up your thigh, underneath your chemise, before it disappears inside; reaching your core.
You squeal when you feel him pinch your clit before he stroked small circles onto it.
“W-why?” You question, trying to free your hands from Aegon's grip but he doesn't budge, but instead watches with amusement as his brother's hand brings out such reactions from you, you whimper as Aemond's finger travels down your slit and to your opening.
“It's my duty as his older brother.” Aegon replies nonchalantly, Aegon loosens his grip momentarily, changing his grip so he can hold both of your hands in one of his. His free hand lifts your chemise up, as he peeks from over your shoulder to see what his brother's hand was doing to your cunt, he chuckles mockingly when he sees your juices dripping from in between your legs.
“Look at her leaking yeah? Her cunt is literally weeping.” Aegon comments and you clench your eyes shut because of the humiliation you are feeling, your husband is parading you out like a whore for his younger brother, and Aemond— whom you've thought of so highly— is letting this happen while participating in the act.
You gasp when you feel one of Aemond's finger enter you, your walls tightly clamping around his finger which makes him grunt, “Fuck you're squeezing my fingers.” He breathlessly says. Aemond suckles on your neck, biting your sensitive spot which makes you whimper. Aegon finally lets go of your hands and then holds you by your waist before rubbing his cock against your ass.
Aemond's finger trail over the spongy spot inside of you, that makes you let out a moan and he takes note of this and presses against that area that causes you to tremble in pleasure, your hands fly up to his shoulders to balance yourself, though you knew you wouldn't fall, Aegon was holding from behind after all.
You were trapped between these two men, both of them peppering kisses on the opposite sides of your neck making you feel dizzy so you rest your head on Aegon’s shoulder, revealing more of your neck for the men to claim.
Aemond adds another finger inside you, stretching you out whilst providing you pleasure, his fingers skillfully grazing your spongy spot, constantly hitting it with precision.
You didn't even feel your peak approaching; it was ripped out of you so suddenly, you let out a loud moan of Aemond's name, clenching onto his shoulders extremely tightly, tears streaming down your cheeks at the intensity of your peak. Aegon's warm tongue glides over your face, collecting your tears on his tongue and licking at them.
You feel Aemond pull his fingers out of you, and you watch with hooded eyes as he puts them in his mouth, licking your essence up before he hums in delight, before pressing a kiss to your lips, making you taste yourself.
You are surprised when you are pulled away from him by Aegon, he lifts you up hurriedly and carries you over to the bed before harshly throwing you on it, he is quick to undress, taking off his breeches and undergarments, getting completely naked and harshly grabs your ankle, pulling you to the edge of the bed.
His hands rip apart your chemise in a hurry, before he forcefully spreads apart your legs and positions himself in between, he gives you no warning before roughly shoving himself inside you, that make you slightly shriek in pain but eventually the pain fades, he moves in and out of you fast paced, ramming into your hole with such an intensity that it has you seeing stars.
“Are you jealous?” Aemond taunts Aegon and Aegon rolls his eyes, “No, I just couldn't hold back anymore, I've missed her cunt so much.” He replies to the taunt and Aemond chuckles, undoing his own breeches, freeing his cock from its confines. “Can I use her mouth?” He asks Aegon and Aegon grunts, “Do whatever the fuck you want with her.” he thrusts brutally into you.
You feel the space next to your head sink and you look over slightly only to be face to face with Aemond's cock, it forms a shadow over your face under the candle lights, you gasp when you see it physically throb. You've never seen that before.
He uses that slight opening as a chance, hooking his thumb in your mouth and spreading your mouth open before pushing his cock inside your mouth, you are taken aback by this and try to pull away but Aemond holds your head in place before shoving himself inside your mouth further, his tip caresses the back of your throat, which makes you gag on his cock, but that only further provides additional pleasure as he groans.
“Seven hells—” Aemond grumbles, his hand hold your hand as he thrusts into your mouth, thumb caressing the outline of his cock that forms in your throat when he pushes as the way, your eyes well up with tears and soon you're panting for air that makes you involuntarily suck on his cock, Aegon's thrusts from downwards make your body jolt upwards, taking more of Aemond's cock.
Aemond suddenly pulls out which makes you suck a sharp breath automatically, “Easy there sweetheart.” Aemond coos and you pant heavily staring at him with doe eyes, “I'll shove it once again alright? Breathe— through your nose— fuckkk.” Aemond instructs as he shoves his dick inside your mouth again, but this time you're prepared so you follow his instructions.
You hollow your cheeks which makes him grunt in satisfaction, “Good girl.” Aemond compliments you, which causes your cunt to clench around Aegon's cock, to which he responds by a chuckle, “Guess she liked that brother, she's squeezing the fuck out of me.” Aegon talks to his brother and Aemond hums in response, Aegon's thrusts speed up, that constantly hit your sweet spot, he bends forwards and takes one of your breast in your mouth, suckling on the nipple and soon– beads of white droplets begin to come out, directly into his mouth that makes him suck more harshly, enjoying the taste of your sweet milk.
“She's lactating? Fuck I wanna have a taste.” Aemond moans, noticing how the milk started to drip from the sides of Aegon's mouth.
Aegon's tip constantly caresses your spongy part, which causes something to tighten in your stomach before it eventually snaps, causing you to cry out in ecstasy and choke on Aemond's dick.
The sensation of your throat tightening around his cock makes Aemond finish as well, he shoots his load down your throat which you have no option but to swallow, and soon— Aegon is finishing inside, painting your inner walls white.
He pulls out immediately after, falling forward onto you and positioning you in such a way that he is able to suckle more, Aemond joins him soon after; shuffling and turning down to take your free breast into his mouth.
You couldn't help but whine as the two brothers suckled on each of your breasts, your recent high made you even more susceptible to sensitivity, yet you couldn't help but caress their heads gently, Aemond clamped his teeth down on to your nipple hardly which made you wince; but he later soothed the area with the wetness of his tongue. Aegon on the other hand was more careful to not graze his teeth against your sensitive buds, only using his tongue and swirling it around your swollen bud.
Aemond let's go with a wet pop, cleaning up the milk and sat up straight before tugging you, this displeased Aegon who wasn't done yet, but he had to let go, Aegon watches as Aemond settles in between your legs before he crawls down, by then Aegon had already caught on to what he was doing, and assisted him by holding you against his chest, your back pressed against him tightly, meanwhile you on the other hand; had no idea what Aemond was about to do.
“Aemond what are you— huh? Ahhh!—” You ended up squealing in surprise when you felt him place his wet tongue on your clit— you tried to shut your legs from the embarrassment but Aegon held them open— so you could only watch helplessly as Aemond gave kitten licks to your clit, which undoubtedly made you feel pleasure.
He licked a long stripe from your hole to your clit before fully engulfing it in his mouth, sucking on the flesh as if he's starving, Aegon's cock is already beginning to harden again as he witnessed such a depraved act.
Aemond groaned when he felt Aegon's seed in his mouth — which he sucked out of you — but he didn't let it stop from devouring you, his tongue licked through your folds before he sucked on your clit and let go of it with a pop before repeating the motion all over again, you unknowingly pushed his face further into your cunt, which made him moan knowing how desperate you were for him, the moan caused additional vibrations which sent pleasure through your body in waves.
You rested your head on Aegon's shoulder as you watched Aemond continue his ministrations, Aegon turned your head slightly before he connected his lips with yours and you moaned into the kiss.
The familiar feeling of the tightness began to form in your stomach again and you break the kiss with Aegon and start to hump Aemond's face involuntarily; trying to just desperately reach your high.
“You're such a fucking whore do you know that? You look so desperate humping your face against his face.” Aegon coos meanly into your ear and you whine, staring at him with teary eyes and he smirks meanly, pulling your hair harshly, “Whore.” He degrades you and your bottom lips tremble as you are about to start crying, but you aren't able to when your peak hits you at the same moment, making you moan in pleasure instead.
Aegon mockingly smiles at you, “Here I thought that you were a prim and proper lady, hell— you don't even let me do these things to you, but maybe my judgement was wrong, maybe you're a whore from the silk street disguised as a lady.” He accuses you meanly, you shake your head no at his accusation while trying to calm down from your high.
Aemond doesn't say anything to that, but simply sits up, and shifts positions once again, pulling you off Aegon and onto his lap instead, you cry onto his shoulders and he simply coos at you, he caresses your hair to calm you down, “Goodness brother, you've made her cry.” Aemond sneers at Aegon who just shrugs his shoulders. “I've only stated what I've observed.” He replies and you whimper.
“All of that aside— do you think she can take us both? In one hole.” Aegon speaks before Aemond could come up with a response and you furrow your brows, and Aemond is lost deep in thought, “We'll have to test it out.” Aemond responds and you push back, immediately staring at him wide eyes but Aemond just pecks your lips.
He lays down, taking you along with him, one hand holding you against him while the other is grabbing your hips and sinking you down on his boner, you bite your lip at the delicious stretch, you're in a position where Aegon can clearly see your pussy stretching around Aemond's cock. Aegon straddles Aemond's knees and lines his cock against your entrance and you turn your head back to see what he was doing, his cock bumped with Aemond's before he found a slight opening to shove his cock into the same hole. “Ah—!” You let out a squeal from pain as you feel his tip intruding and stretching you far than you're capable of taking.
Aegon grows frustrated, not being able to enter his cock fully inside you as your walls clamp down, resisting furthermore intrudence, however that only makes Aemond's pleasure elevate as your walls squeeze him tightly.
“Fuck this, I'm taking her from the rear.” Aegon gives up pushing his cock inside you, you gasp when you feel his thumb poking and pushing inside your puckered hole on your behind. You cover your face with your hands ashamed but Aemond pulls them away before crunching upwards to kiss you on the lips.
Aegon collects your wetness that's dripping from your cunt and smears it on your slightly stretched out hole before doing the same with his cock and lining the tip with the entrance and slowly pushing it inside.
“Ahh— Aegon— wait– I don't think— hgh!” You squeal once his fully settles inside you, and you couldn't help but tremble from the burn of the stretch as he slowly started to move, tears streamed down your face when you felt Aemond move too.
You were feeling highly humiliated, how your dignity has now been sullied, though this encounter wouldn't get out; you knew you wouldn't be able to see Aemond in the same light again, you'd always think about this day whenever you'd encounter him, a dirty little secret you'll have to keep hidden from the realm.
You are pulled from your thoughts with a sharp thrust from both of them penetrating you, you couldn't stop it but moans slipped from your mouth like prayers, you gasped and choked while calling out their names, the position; the act; the pleasure and humiliation you were feeling all combined made you feel hot, and to your horror, the pain began to subside leading you to enjoy this act.
You clinged onto Aemond as the brothers both rammed into you at such a fast pace that made you see stars, you clenched your eyes shut at the new sensations they were making you feel, and soon you're moving in rhythm along with them.
“Fuck fuck fuck I'm gonna cum.” Aegon grunts, his thrusts eventually becoming sloppy, “Me too.” You tell him and Aemond takes that as a cue to thrust faster into you, his hips ramming against you, the sound of flesh slapping rapidly fills the room.
Once again, you're blinded by the pleasure that was ripped from you, you came with a loud moan just as simultaneously as Aegon did, he pulled out and came on your back, he couldn't help but watch in awe as his seed dripped down onto your ass cheeks.
Aemond's pace became slow and messy, indicating that he was near too, “I'm gonna cum inside you, get you pregnant alright? This time you'll carry my child, not Aegon's. I'll make sure of it.” He grunts out mindlessly, pressing you down tightly to his chest, and Aegon just snickers. “Only time will tell, Brother.” Aegon replies snarky.
And with that, Aemond finishes inside you, shooting his seed far up into your walls, and you just nod silently, processing his words, his grip loosens after he finishes you fall off him and onto the bed, and soon Aegon collapses tiredly as well.
You hoped silently, that this would be the last of it, and that you'll not have to do this again, though it was enjoyable— it was humiliating, you were not that kind of lady that indulges in such depravity, maybe you'll be able to forget this and move on as if it never happened.
You prayed to the gods desperately.
But the gods are cruel.
Such encounters became frequent, Aegon and Aemond were enjoying it too much to stop, and soon you eventually got used to the routine, yet you couldn't help but feel guilty when you'd go to the sept with Alicent, when she prays that Aemond can find a good match, when she talks about the proposals that came for Aemond to you, unbeknownst to the fact that her son was constantly fucking you and was way too obsessed with you to let go of you and marry another woman.
He'd began fuck you without Aegon being involved and when you told Aegon about it, he simply shrugged furthermore simply allowing him to do so, telling you that it was his duty as a brother to let Aemond have the things he wants, the very same excuse he used during the first time.
“So, what do you think about Floris Baratheon? Do you think she's a good match for you?” Alicents voice snaps you out of your thoughts and you stare at her, who is addressing Aemond, who seemed to be as disinterested as ever.
“She's decent.” He replies shortly before he turns his gaze to you, and you immediately avoid it, staring at Alicent instead who sighs in annoyance, soon; the feeling of stickiness between your legs—which you've tried to ignore— becomes more imminent the longer he stares at you.
And guilt overwhelms you, you didn't know why you were even joining this meeting with Alicent, you –infact– hated it, knowing that moments prior to this, you were fucking Aemond in the secret hallways of the keep.
And that his seed was currently dripping out of you.
— ! ݈݇- thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed it <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated greatly ♡
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Haven Of Harmony - Daemon Targaryen x Wife!Reader.
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/7805da3a7c17ebd40325da2c7ce0cfc6/ab421915bed2b73d-a1/s540x810/7edd47d04fc8db49b4d5c06d501fdad21e3bc44a.jpg)
Summary : Your marriage with Daemon became more harmonious after the birth of your twin sons, Daemon also decided to bring his family to move to Dragonstone and settle there. Your happiness increases when you share the happy news.
You sat on a carved stone bench overlooking the vast expanse of Dragonstone, the cool breeze carrying with it the sound of roaring dragons and the laughter of your children. Your silver hair shimmered in the sunlight as you watched your five children soar through the skies on their dragons, their figures cutting against the blue heavens.
Your eldest, Maegon, led the group with his fierce determination, his bond with his dragon, Verathor, evident in every dive and turn. Vaelya followed close behind, her graceful dragon, Nyserion, matching her fiery spirit with elegant precision. Aerion, as daring as ever, performed daring maneuvers on his dragon, Aurion, his laughter echoing through the sky.
Below them flew Aelor and Vaegon, the youngest of the brood, though no less skilled. Their dragons, Elyrax and Thalaxion, moved in perfect harmony as they joined their older siblings in an impromptu mock battle against Daemon, who flew on Caraxes.
You couldn’t help but laugh as you saw your husband struggling to keep up with the coordinated attacks of his children. Caraxes let out an annoyed roar when Vaelya and Nyserion swooped low and nipped at his tail, causing Daemon to grumble in irritation.
“Is this how you treat your father, you little wretches?!” Daemon bellowed, though his voice carried no real anger.
Maegon grinned triumphantly from atop Verathor, pointing his blade toward Daemon in mock challenge. “You taught us too well, Father!”
Aerion joined in the teasing, circling Caraxes with a wide grin. “Looks like you’re getting old, Father! Maybe it’s time you retired to the ground!”
Daemon’s face twisted into a comically exaggerated scowl, making you laugh even harder. “Insolent brats,” he muttered, though his smirk betrayed his pride.
Just then, Vaelya swooped low beside Caraxes, her long silver braid whipping in the wind. “Leave Father alone!” she called to her brothers, her voice indignant. “He’s still the best dragonrider!”
Her brothers groaned in playful annoyance, teasing her for being their father’s favorite. “Of course, she’d say that,” Aerion quipped, rolling his eyes dramatically.
As you watched the exchange, your heart swelled with pride. Your children were not only strong and fearless but deeply bonded to one another. Despite their teasing, their love and respect for Daemon — and for each other — were undeniable.
When the battle ended and the dragons began their descent, your children landed one by one, their faces flushed with excitement. Daemon was the last to dismount, shaking his head as he approached you. “They’re insufferable,” he muttered, though his smirk revealed his amusement.
You chuckled, reaching out to smooth his windswept hair. “They’re just like you,” you said, smiling fondly.
Daemon grunted, pulling you closer as your children ran toward you, their laughter filling the air. Vaelya threw her arms around Daemon, while Maegon and Aerion excitedly recounted their victory. Aelor and Vaegon tugged at your sleeves, eager to tell you about their dragons’ latest feats.
Surrounded by your family, you felt a deep sense of contentment. These were the moments you cherished most — the laughter, the love, and the unbreakable bond that tied you all together.
You gazed at your family seated around the long, grand table in the hall of Dragonstone, the warm glow of the torches casting flickering light upon their faces. Daemon sat at the head of the table, his silver hair catching the firelight as he leaned back in his chair, laughing at something Maegon had said.
Maegon, ever the confident eldest, was recounting his latest dragonriding exploits, his hands gesturing animatedly as he described how Verathor had outmaneuvered Caraxes in the skies. Vaelya, seated beside him, rolled her eyes playfully, a smirk on her lips as she cut into her roasted lamb.
“You only won because Father let you,” she quipped, her silver braid swinging as she turned to Daemon for confirmation.
Daemon chuckled, raising his goblet. “I’d never let any of you win. If Maegon bested me, it’s because I trained him too well,” he said, winking at his eldest son.
Aerion, sitting next to Vaelya, grinned mischievously. “Maybe next time we’ll team up, Vaelya. Even Caraxes wouldn’t stand a chance against the two of us.”
Vaelya narrowed her eyes at him. “You’d just slow me down, Aerion.”
Across the table, Aelor and Vaegon were engrossed in their own conversation, their young faces alight with excitement as they talked about their dragons. Elyrax and Thalaxion were already developing distinct personalities, and their bond with the youngest twins was clear.
You watched them all with a soft smile, your hands resting on your belly. The babe within you kicked gently, as if sensing the joy in the room. Daemon caught your eye and raised his goblet toward you, his expression softening.
“To the Lady of Dragonstone,” he said, his voice warm and full of affection. “The one who holds us all together.”
The children joined in the toast, their voices overlapping as they cheered. You smiled, feeling a deep warmth in your chest as you looked around the table at the family you and Daemon had built together.
This was your sanctuary, your joy. The laughter, the teasing, the love—it was all you had ever hoped for. And as you listened to the lively chatter and felt the gentle movements of the babe you carried, you knew the future would hold even more of these cherished moments.
As the lively chatter at the table quieted, you cleared your throat softly, drawing everyone’s attention. All eyes turned toward you, and you suddenly felt the weight of your unspoken news. Daemon, seated beside you, tilted his head in curiosity, his sharp gaze locking onto yours.
“What is it, my love?” he asked, his voice laced with concern and intrigue.
The children, scattered along the grand table, paused their conversations. Vaelya arched an eyebrow, Maegon leaned forward slightly, and Aerion exchanged a curious glance with the twins, Aelor and Vaegon.
You hesitated, your hands instinctively moving to rest on your stomach, hidden beneath the soft fabric of your gown. The secret you had kept for months felt heavier now that you were about to speak it aloud. But the love and trust of your family gave you strength.
“I have something important to share with all of you,” you began, your voice steady but soft. You glanced briefly at Daemon, who was now watching you intently, his expression unreadable. “It’s news I’ve kept to myself for a little while, but I think it’s time you all know.”
The children exchanged glances, their curiosity growing.
“What is it, Mother?” Vaelya asked, her tone eager yet calm.
Taking a deep breath, you finally said the words. “I’m expecting another child.”
For a moment, silence filled the hall as your words settled over them. Daemon blinked, his eyes widening in shock. “Another… child?” he repeated, his voice almost a whisper, as if trying to confirm what he had just heard.
“Yes,” you said with a small, nervous smile. “We’re going to have another baby.”
The children erupted into cheers and exclamations.
“A new sibling!” Aerion grinned. “That’s incredible!”
“We’ll have to prepare the nursery again!” Maegon added, his initial shock giving way to excitement. Even the twins, usually more reserved, looked genuinely thrilled, their identical smiles lighting up the room.
Vaelya leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with a teasing smile. “If it’s another brother, I’ll have to teach him some manners. I’m already outnumbered as it is.”
Daemon, however, remained quiet for a moment, his gaze fixed on you. Then, without a word, he rose from his seat and crossed the distance between you. Gently, he cupped your face in his hands, his eyes searching yours before a wide grin spread across his lips. “You kept this from me?” he asked, his tone half-amused, half-incredulous.
“I wanted to surprise you,” you admitted sheepishly.
He laughed, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “You’ve certainly done that, my love.”
As the children continued to celebrate, Daemon pulled you into a warm embrace, his hand resting protectively over your stomach. The warmth and joy that filled the hall were palpable, and for the first time in months, you felt completely at ease. This was your family, your strength, and your greatest happiness.
You stood by the window of your chamber, gazing out at the vast, dark sea stretching endlessly before you. The soft whisper of the waves blended with the cool night breeze, brushing gently against your face. The moonlight bathed the room in a silvery glow, casting shadows that danced across the walls.
Lost in thought, you barely noticed the sound of footsteps behind you until a familiar warmth enveloped you. Daemon’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you gently against him. His hand rested lightly on your growing belly, his touch both tender and protective.
He pressed a soft kiss to the crown of your head, his breath warm against your hair. “You shouldn’t be standing so long,” he murmured, his voice low and full of quiet affection.
You leaned back against his chest, finding solace in his steady presence. “I couldn’t sleep,” you admitted, your voice soft. “The sea… it calms me.”
He chuckled lightly, the vibration of his laugh rumbling in his chest. “And here I thought you might be admiring something else,” he teased, his tone playful but his embrace tightening ever so slightly.
A small smile tugged at your lips. “Perhaps I was,” you replied, tilting your head to glance up at him. His silver hair gleamed in the moonlight, and his sharp features softened as he looked down at you with a rare, unguarded expression.
Daemon leaned down, his lips brushing your temple as his hand gently caressed the curve of your belly. “Our child grows strong,” he whispered, pride evident in his voice. “And you—you’re remarkable, carrying them.”
You closed your eyes, letting the moment sink in. The weight of his words, the warmth of his touch, and the rhythmic sound of the waves all melded into a perfect harmony. For a fleeting moment, it was just the two of you and the life you were bringing into the world, wrapped in the quiet serenity of the night.
You walked slowly through the garden, your hand resting gently on your growing belly. The warm sunlight bathed the blooming flowers around you, and the gentle breeze carried the scent of jasmine and roses.
Above, the thunderous roars of dragons echoed through the sky, mingling with the bright laughter of your five children. You stopped for a moment, tilting your head back to take in the breathtaking sight.
Their dragons darted through the clouds, weaving intricate patterns as they chased one another. Maegon led the playful pursuit, his determined shouts urging the others to keep up. Vaelya, ever the fierce competitor, followed closely, her dragon’s wings cutting through the air with precision. Aerion, with his clever tactics, swooped around to intercept them, his laughter carrying down to you.
Your youngest twins, on their slightly smaller dragons, joined the game with enthusiastic squeals, their dragons roaring proudly despite their size.
A soft smile spread across your face as you watched them, your heart swelling with pride and joy. They were so free, so full of life, their bond with their dragons and each other unbreakable.
Your hand moved gently over your belly, feeling the faint but certain movements of the new life within you. “They’ll be waiting for you,” you murmured softly. “And I’m sure you’ll join them up there one day.”
Lost in the moment, you barely noticed Daemon approaching until you felt his arm slide around your waist. He followed your gaze to the sky, his lips curving into a smirk.
“They’re a pack of wildlings,” he teased, though his voice was full of affection.
“And you love it,” you replied, leaning into him.
He chuckled, placing a protective hand over yours on your belly. “Maybe one day, there’ll be even more dragons up there.”
You smiled at the thought, your gaze still fixed on your children as their laughter and the roars of dragons filled the sky. It was a moment of pure peace, a reminder of everything you had built together.
You walked alongside Daemon toward the lair where Caraxes rested. The sound of your footsteps echoed softly against the stone path as the faint roar of dragons filled the air.
When Caraxes saw you approach, the great red dragon lifted his elongated neck and moved forward with surprising gentleness. His sharp, intelligent eyes locked onto you, and instead of focusing on Daemon, he lowered his head and began to sniff curiously at your belly.
You couldn’t help but smile as Caraxes let out a low, rumbling growl of recognition, as if he understood the new life growing within you.
Daemon crossed his arms and let out an exaggerated huff. “Traitor,” he muttered, narrowing his eyes at his dragon.
You laughed softly, reaching out to pat Caraxes’ snout. “It seems he knows before anyone else, my love,” you teased, your hand brushing over your belly. “Perhaps he’s just more in tune with me than you are.”
Caraxes nudged you gently, a surprising act of care for such a fearsome creature, and you giggled at his affectionate gesture.
Daemon rolled his eyes, though the corners of his lips twitched with amusement. “I’m the one who rides him, feeds him, and yet here he is, fawning over you.”
You turned to him with a playful smile. “Perhaps he’s simply acknowledging the mother of your children—and his future rider’s parent.”
Daemon smirked and stepped closer to you, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Or perhaps he’s just testing my patience,” he quipped, though his voice was filled with warmth.
Caraxes let out a low, satisfied rumble as though he had won some unspoken contest. Daemon shook his head but pulled you closer, his protective gaze shifting between you and his loyal dragon.
You turned your head toward a dark cave not far from where Caraxes rested. A strange feeling prickled at the back of your neck, and you tilted your head slightly, as though straining to catch a faint sound.
Daemon frowned, his brows furrowing as he noticed your sudden distraction. “What is it?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern.
You hesitated for a moment, your eyes scanning the mouth of the cave. “I… I thought I heard something,” you murmured, your hand unconsciously moving to your belly. “Like someone calling my name.”
Daemon’s gaze followed yours to the cave, his expression turning skeptical. “There’s no one there,” he said firmly, stepping protectively closer to you. “Are you certain it wasn’t just the wind?”
You shook your head slowly, unsure. “It didn’t sound like the wind. It was…” You paused, struggling to find the words. “It was faint, but… familiar.”
Caraxes let out a low growl, his head snapping toward the cave, as though he, too, sensed something.
Daemon’s hand moved to the hilt of his sword instinctively. “Stay here,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.
“No, Daemon,” you said quickly, grabbing his arm. “If it’s nothing, there’s no need for you to risk yourself.”
He hesitated, glancing back at you, then toward the cave. “You’ve been restless of late,” he said softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Perhaps it’s just your mind playing tricks on you.”
You nodded reluctantly, though you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling creeping through you. Daemon led you away from the cave, his arm wrapped protectively around you, but your gaze lingered on the dark entrance, wondering what—or who—you might have heard.
You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. The quiet, soft whisper calling your name seemed to grow louder, more insistent, despite the absence of any visible source. You turned back towards the cave, your heart pounding in your chest. It was as if the very air around you had thickened, filled with a sense of foreboding that you couldn’t ignore. The wind had shifted, but it wasn’t the change in temperature or breeze that unsettled you. It was the call.
Daemon, still standing by your side, noticed the subtle shift in your demeanor. His sharp eyes followed your gaze towards the cave, then back at you, reading the unease in your posture. He knew you too well, and he could sense that something wasn’t right. But when he glanced back at the entrance to the cave, he saw nothing that could explain the anxiety that seemed to settle in your bones. “What is it?” he asked again, his voice tinged with concern but still a hint of uncertainty. “What’s wrong?”
You swallowed hard, trying to push the mounting anxiety down, but it was no use. “Daemon,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly, “do you hear it? The calling… it’s still there.”
Daemon furrowed his brow, shaking his head. “I don’t hear anything. It’s just the wind.”
But as you spoke, Caraxes, the great dragon, shifted his position. His massive body, usually so relaxed and calm, became tense, his eyes narrowing, his nostrils flaring. The dragon, a creature so in tune with his surroundings, seemed to sense something you couldn’t. The silence that hung in the air grew thicker, almost oppressive, and Caraxes let out a low, guttural growl, his massive head turning toward the cave, his wings flexing in readiness.
You instinctively took a step closer to Daemon, your breath shallow. “Caraxes… he’s acting strange,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, but there was no mistaking the concern in your tone. The dragon had never acted like this before, his movements sharp and watchful, his attention fixed on the cave, as though waiting for something to emerge.
Daemon turned back to the dragon, his expression hardening. He was no stranger to the instincts of his dragon, but this felt different, more urgent. He glanced at you, eyes searching your face, trying to read the fear that had crept into your expression. “We should go back to the castle,” Daemon said firmly, his hand reaching out to guide you. There was no hesitation in his voice, no argument. He had seen enough to know that something was wrong. He didn’t need to be convinced.
“I don’t like this, Daemon,” you muttered, still unable to shake the unease in your chest. You could feel your heart racing, the thumping echoing in your ears, the voice still faintly calling your name, but growing more distant with every passing second. It felt like something was waiting, something watching from the depths of the cave.
Daemon’s grip on your arm tightened, pulling you back towards the path leading away from the cave. He wasn’t taking any chances. “We’ll deal with it later, if necessary. Let’s go back now, before anything happens,” he said, his tone firm, almost protective.
You didn’t argue. The last thing you wanted was to be close to that cave any longer. You felt the presence of something lurking, something ancient, that you couldn’t fully understand, and it was pulling at your very soul. Daemon’s protective instincts had already kicked in, and you couldn’t deny that you felt safer with him by your side.
As you turned to leave, you glanced one last time at Caraxes, still poised and alert, his eyes watching the cave as if he too were waiting for something, or someone. The dragon’s unease mirrored your own, and it made your pulse quicken. What was it that lingered in the shadows of that cave?
But Daemon urged you forward, guiding you back towards the castle. The call faded with each step, the heavy presence lifting from the air, though the feeling of something unresolved still weighed on you. You weren’t sure what had just happened, or if it would come to anything, but you knew that something was out there. You could feel it deep in your bones.
As you returned to the safety of the castle, you could only hope that the strange pull from the cave was nothing more than a fleeting moment. But in the back of your mind, something told you that this wouldn’t be the last time you heard the whisper.
You sat with your daughter, Vaelya, in her room, gently brushing and braiding her silver hair. The soft glow of the afternoon light filtered through the windows, casting a warm hue over the room. She sat quietly, her hands resting on her lap, but her eyes sparkled with excitement as she handed you a small piece of fabric.
“I finished this today,” she said proudly, showing off her neat stitching. The design was simple, but her careful work and attention to detail were evident.
You smiled warmly, running your fingers over the stitches. “This is beautiful, Vaelya. You’ve done such a wonderful job.”
Her cheeks flushed at the compliment, but she beamed with pride. “I want to learn how to make clothes,” she said, turning to look at you with a determined expression. “So I can sew something for the new baby when they arrive.”
Your heart swelled at her words, and you placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head. “That’s very thoughtful of you, sweet girl. I’m sure your new sibling will cherish anything you make for them. And I’ll help you, if you’d like."
Vaelya nodded enthusiastically, her small hands gripping the fabric tightly. “I want it to be perfect. Something they can wear when they’re little and keep forever.”
You couldn’t help but smile, pride and love filling your chest as you looked at your daughter. She was growing up to be such a kind and caring soul, and moments like this reminded you of just how special she was. “It will be perfect, Vaelya, because it will be made with love.”
Vaelya looked up at you with her big, earnest eyes, her fingers toying with the edge of her fabric. “I hope the baby is a girl,” she said softly, almost shyly. “Sometimes, I feel lonely when my brothers go off to train with Father. They’re always together, and… it’s just me.”
You paused for a moment, your heart aching for your little girl. Setting down the comb, you leaned forward and cupped her face gently in your hands. “Oh, sweet one,” you said tenderly, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “I know it’s hard sometimes, but your brothers love you so much. And they’re never too far away.”
Vaelya nodded, her gaze dropping to her lap. “I know. But it would be nice to have someone to stay with me—someone like me.”
You smiled warmly and pulled her into a comforting embrace, stroking her hair as you whispered, “Perhaps the gods will hear your wish, my love. If they will it, then you may just get the sister you dream of. But even if the baby is another brother, he’ll still be a part of our family and love you just as much.”
She rested her head against your shoulder, her small arms wrapping around you. “I’ll love them either way,” she murmured, her voice muffled. “But I hope the gods are listening.”
You chuckled softly, kissing the top of her head. “We’ll have to wait and see. But no matter what, you’ll never be alone, Vaelya. You have a family that loves you more than anything, and that will never change.”
You leaned back slightly, looking into Vaelya’s eyes with a playful smile. “You know, my sweet girl, there’s something special about being the only daughter in this family.”
She tilted her head, curiosity lighting up her silver eyes. “What’s that, Mother?”
You brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear and said with a grin, “It means you’re the one who gets spoiled the most. Your father can never say no to you, can he? And your brothers? They’d move mountains just to see you smile.”
Vaelya giggled, her mood lifting. “That’s true! Father always lets me ride with him on Caraxes, even when my brothers have to wait.”
“Exactly,” you said, laughing along with her. “And when you want something, who’s the first to come running? It’s always your brothers, trying to outdo each other to make you happy. Don’t tell them, but I think you’ve got all of them wrapped around your little finger.”
She beamed, a spark of pride in her expression. “Maybe being the only girl isn’t so bad after all.”
You kissed her cheek and added, “It’s not bad at all. You’re their princess, Vaelya, and they’ll always treat you as such. No matter what, you’re cherished and loved beyond measure.”
Vaelya hugged you tightly, her arms wrapping around your waist. “Thank you, Mother. I feel much better now.”
You stroked her hair and whispered, “Good. Never forget how special you are, my darling. You’re the heart of this family, and nothing will ever change that.”
You jolted awake, your breaths coming in uneven gasps. The room was bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the window, casting long shadows on the walls. You instinctively turned to your side, finding Daemon still deep in slumber, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. He looked so peaceful, oblivious to the torment that plagued your mind.
You ran a trembling hand over your face, trying to steady your breathing. The voice—no, the thing—had followed you even into your dreams. This time, it wasn’t just the echo of your name whispered in a way that sent chills down your spine. No, this time, it was accompanied by the piercing gaze of two glowing yellow eyes, their stare burning into you as if they saw through every layer of your being.
Your hand instinctively moved to your belly, seeking the comfort of the life growing within you. The faint fluttering movements of your unborn child eased you slightly but did little to dispel the unease that had taken root.
You exhaled slowly, trying not to wake Daemon as you swung your legs over the edge of the bed. The cold stone floor against your bare feet sent a jolt through your body, grounding you momentarily. You paced quietly, your mind racing. Was this a warning? A sign? Or simply your imagination conjuring something from the depths of your fear?
Your gaze flicked to the window, the same one you had stared through earlier that day. The ocean beyond looked endless, and for a moment, you thought you saw something moving just beneath the surface of the moonlit waves. You shook your head, dismissing it as a trick of your exhausted mind.
A soft sound from the bed startled you, and you turned to see Daemon stirring. His hand reached out, searching for you in his sleep. His brow furrowed when he found the space beside him empty.
“Love?” he mumbled groggily, his voice thick with sleep. He sat up slightly, rubbing his eyes before his gaze found you standing near the window. “What are you doing? Come back to bed.”
You hesitated, debating whether to tell him what you had seen—what you had felt. But the weight of it was too much to carry alone. Slowly, you crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, your back to him.
“The voice,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “It was in my dreams tonight. But this time, it wasn’t just a voice. There were eyes��yellow eyes—staring at me. Watching me.”
Daemon sat up fully now, his concern evident in the way he placed a firm hand on your shoulder. “Yellow eyes?” he repeated, his tone sharpening. “What else?”
You shook your head, clutching his hand for strength. “That’s all. But it felt so… real, Daemon. I can still feel them, as if they’re watching me even now.”
Daemon’s grip tightened protectively. “Whatever it is, I won’t let it come near you or our children,” he said firmly, his voice laced with determination. “I’ll find out what’s behind this, I swear it.”
You nodded, leaning into his embrace. Yet, even as his arms wrapped around you, shielding you from the world, the memory of those yellow eyes lingered, a haunting reminder that something—or someone—was waiting in the shadows.
You woke up to the warmth of sunlight streaming into your chamber, bathing the room in golden hues. Your hand instinctively reached out to the space beside you, only to find it empty. Daemon’s absence was unusual. You turned your gaze to the window, noting that the sun was already high in the sky—a clear sign you had slept in later than usual.
Quickly, you rose from the bed, your movements a little slower due to the weight of your pregnancy. After a moment of washing and dressing with the help of your maidservants, you made your way toward the Great Hall, curious as to where your husband might be.
As you approached, the lively chatter of your children reached your ears, bringing a small smile to your face. Entering the hall, you saw all five of them gathered together, their silver hair gleaming in the sunlight as they talked animatedly. Each of them was full of life, their bond as siblings evident in their laughter and shared smiles.
“Good morning, my darlings,” you greeted, your voice warm. They all turned toward you, their faces lighting up at the sight of you. Vaelya was the first to rush over, wrapping her small arms around you as she glanced at your growing belly.
“Good morning, Mother,” she said sweetly. “We were just talking about dragons.”
“Of course you were,” you replied with a chuckle, brushing her hair back affectionately. The boys approached next, all of them brimming with energy as they greeted you.
Despite the joy of seeing your children, your eyes scanned the hall for Daemon. “And where is your father this morning?” you asked.
The children exchanged glances before Maegon, the eldest of your triplets, answered, “He left early. He said he had something to handle with Caraxes.”
“Something important,” Vaelya added, frowning slightly. “But he wouldn’t tell us what.”
You nodded, trying to hide your concern. It wasn’t unusual for Daemon to disappear for a time, especially when it came to matters involving Caraxes, but his absence felt different today. Something about it unsettled you.
“Did he say when he’d return?” you pressed gently.
Aerion shrugged. “No, but he told us to take care of you.”
Your heart warmed at their father’s thoughtfulness. “Well, I suppose we’ll see him when he returns,” you said, smoothing over your worry with a smile. “Now, tell me more about these dragons you’ve been discussing.”
For the moment, you decided to focus on your children, listening as they excitedly shared their thoughts on dragon lore and their dreams of flying. But in the back of your mind, the question lingered: where had Daemon gone, and why hadn’t he told you?
You watching your older triplets—Maegon, Vaelya, and Aerion—engaged in their Valyrian lessons. Their voices rose and fell rhythmically, perfectly mimicking the fluid cadence of the ancient tongue. They had taken to the language naturally, their silver-haired heads bent over their scrolls as they recited lines of poetry and prose with pride and precision. You couldn’t help but smile, a deep sense of pride swelling within you.
Not far away, your two youngest children sat on a soft rug, their giggles and cheerful chatter filling the room. They weren’t yet old enough for formal lessons like their elder siblings, but their curiosity had already begun to bloom. The maester patiently read to them from a large tome, recounting tales of your family’s storied history, while they listened with wide, fascinated eyes. Occasionally, their little hands darted out to point at the illustrations, followed by an excited string of questions.
You leaned against the wall, your hand instinctively resting on your growing belly. The faint movements within reminded you of the life you were nurturing, the next addition to your family. Your children, your legacy, were everything to you. Watching them thrive—both in their studies and their play—filled you with an overwhelming sense of fulfillment.
A soft knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts. Turning, you found one of your trusted handmaidens waiting. “My lady, everything is ready for your midday meal,” she said with a bow.
You nodded, glancing back at your children one last time before you stepped into the room. “Come now, my little dragons,” you said warmly, your voice drawing their attention. “It’s time to eat.”
Your older children exchanged a quick look before closing their scrolls, standing to join you with polite smiles. The younger two bounded toward you, their excitement spilling into laughter as they took your hands. The maester rose as well, bowing respectfully before excusing himself.
As you walked with your children, you felt a deep sense of contentment. Whatever challenges lay ahead, you knew you had built something truly special—a family bound not only by blood but by love, trust, and the indomitable strength of your shared lineage.
You sat at the head of the table, your five children surrounding you, their laughter and lively chatter filling the room. Maegon, as usual, was up to his tricks, teasing Aerion by slipping a piece of fruit onto his plate when he wasn’t looking. Aerion caught on quickly, retaliating with a playful shove that almost knocked over a goblet.
“Careful, boys,” you said with a laugh, shaking your head. Vaelya rolled her eyes dramatically at her brothers, muttering something about how they were always so loud during meals, which only made the twins laugh harder. The younger two watched with wide, amused eyes, their small hands clutching at their cups as they giggled at their older siblings’ antics.
Despite the warmth and joy around you, your eyes kept drifting toward the door. Daemon had been gone since early morning, and his absence weighed heavily on you. He was rarely away from meals, especially when the whole family was gathered. A seed of worry had taken root in your chest, and no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, the feeling lingered.
“Mother, are you all right?” Vaelya’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. Her sharp, observant gaze was fixed on you, her silver brows slightly furrowed in concern.
You smiled softly and reached out to squeeze her hand. “I’m fine, my love. Just a little distracted.”
Maegon leaned back in his chair, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. “Father’s probably off somewhere brooding over his sword. Or maybe Caraxes is keeping him company.”
Aerion snorted, but it was Vaelya who scolded her brother. “You shouldn’t say such things. Father will be here soon.”
Her words, though confident, didn’t entirely reassure you. You forced yourself to smile again, hoping it was enough to ease their concerns. “I’m sure he’ll join us shortly,” you said, though you weren’t entirely convinced yourself.
As the meal continued, you did your best to focus on your children, laughing at their jokes and encouraging their conversations. But every so often, your gaze would flicker back to the door, your heart silently willing Daemon to walk through it and ease the growing unease within you.
The soft crunch of gravel beneath your feet echoed through the serene garden, the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze offering a soothing accompaniment. Yet, despite the tranquil surroundings, your thoughts were anything but calm. Daemon’s prolonged absence gnawed at your mind, an unwelcome companion to the unease that had lingered since the strange dream.
You stopped by the edge of the fountain, its crystal-clear water reflecting the late afternoon sun. Your hand instinctively rested on your growing belly, seeking comfort in the steady rhythm of life stirring within you. The memory of those piercing yellow eyes from your dream resurfaced, sending a shiver down your spine.
Was it just a dream? Or something more?
You tried to push the thought aside, telling yourself it was nothing more than your imagination playing tricks on you. Yet, the way Caraxes had reacted near the caves, the whispers you’d heard… it all felt too coincidental.
The garden, usually a place of peace and joy, now felt slightly different—like the air itself was heavier, the shadows longer. You glanced around, your sharp instincts picking up on the faintest rustling in the bushes nearby.
“Daemon,” you murmured under your breath, your voice filled with a mixture of longing and worry.
But no one answered.
You continued to walk, your hands tracing the blooms of the roses you passed, their soft petals grounding you for the moment. Yet, your mind remained restless, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on you. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was coming, something just beyond your understanding.
For now, all you could do was wait—and hope that Daemon returned soon to ease the storm inside your heart.
The dim light of the late afternoon barely penetrated the entrance of the cave as you stood there, frozen in a mix of awe and apprehension. The cool, damp air from the cave brushed against your skin, carrying with it the unmistakable scent of earth and something more—something ancient, something powerful.
Your heartbeat quickened, a steady drum in your chest, as your eyes adjusted to the darkness. You took a tentative step forward, then another, the sound of your soft footfalls echoing faintly against the stone walls.
And then, you saw them.
Two glowing yellow eyes pierced the shadows, the very same eyes that had haunted your dreams. They watched you, unblinking, radiating an intelligence and intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.
A low, rumbling growl filled the cavern, deep and resonant, reverberating through your bones. It wasn’t a sound of anger, but one of acknowledgement—a call, an answer, a connection.
As you stepped closer, the massive form of the dragon began to take shape in the dim light. Its scales were a deep shade of black, glistening faintly like polished obsidian, with streaks of gold running along its massive body. Its wings were folded close to its sides, but even so, you could sense the sheer power they held.
This was the creature that had been calling you. The voice you’d heard in your dreams, the presence you’d felt lingering in your thoughts—it was this dragon.
You took another step forward, your hand instinctively resting on your belly as if to shield the life growing within you. The dragon’s eyes shifted briefly to your hand, and you could feel a strange, almost protective energy emanating from it.
It lowered its massive head, bringing its snout closer to you, and let out a soft huff of warm air. The gesture felt like a test, as if it were gauging your courage, your resolve.
You reached out with trembling fingers, your heart pounding in your chest. As your hand made contact with the dragon’s scaled snout, a surge of warmth and energy coursed through you. It wasn’t just the touch of a dragon—it was a bond forming, a connection being forged.
This dragon had been waiting for you.
You took a deep breath, steadying yourself as you whispered softly, “You’ve been calling me, haven’t you?”
The dragon let out a low rumble in response, its eyes closing briefly as if in agreement. This was no ordinary creature—it was a dragon of destiny, one that had chosen you, not just as its rider, but as its equal.
For the first time in days, the unease that had plagued you lifted. In its place was a sense of purpose, a sense of belonging. Whatever challenges lay ahead, you knew you wouldn’t face them alone.
You stepped out of the dark cave, the sunlight momentarily blinding you as the dragon followed closely behind. The ground beneath you vibrated faintly with each heavy step the massive creature took. Its obsidian scales glinted in the light, making it appear both menacing and magnificent.
As you lifted your gaze, your eyes met Daemon’s. He stood a short distance away, his sword still sheathed, his chest rising and falling as though he’d run to find you. His expression was a mixture of shock, concern, and something else—awe.
His sharp eyes left yours and shifted to the beast that loomed behind you, its golden eyes meeting his for a moment before it let out a low, rumbling growl that reverberated through the air. Caraxes, perched on a ridge not far away, responded with a hiss, his long neck stretching out as if to assert his dominance.
“Gods,” Daemon finally breathed, his voice rough with emotion. He took a step toward you, his eyes darting between you and the dragon. “You’ve bonded with it.”
You nodded, your hand instinctively moving to rest on your swollen belly. “It has been calling me, Daemon,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions. “In my dreams, in my thoughts. It was waiting for me.”
Daemon’s gaze flicked to the dragon again, his jaw tightening. “You entered the cave alone?” His voice held a hint of reproach, but it was overshadowed by the amazement in his tone.
“I had to,” you replied firmly. “This bond… it was meant to be.”
The dragon behind you lowered its massive head, releasing a deep, resonating growl as if to agree. Daemon’s lips parted slightly, and he shook his head in disbelief. He took another step closer, now standing directly in front of you.
“You never cease to surprise me,” he murmured, his hand brushing your cheek briefly before sliding down to rest on your belly. His other hand gestured toward the dragon. “What do you plan to name this beast?”
You turned, looking back at the dragon whose glowing golden eyes still watched you intently. A name formed in your mind, as if it had been waiting there all along.
“Aryx,” you said softly, the name feeling like a perfect match for the creature’s power and grace.
Daemon tilted his head, considering the name before nodding approvingly. “Aryx,” he echoed. “Fitting for one as formidable as this.”
You smiled faintly and looked back at him. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”
Daemon smirked faintly, his usual arrogance returning to his expression. “Worry me? You’ll be the death of me one day, woman.” His tone was teasing, but the way his hand lingered on you spoke volumes of his relief.
With one last glance at Aryx, Daemon turned back to you. “Come. You’ll have to explain all of this to the children. And I suppose you’ll want them to meet your new companion.”
You chuckled softly, feeling the weight of his arm wrap protectively around your shoulders as he led you back toward the keep. Behind you, Aryx released a mighty roar, the sound echoing across the cliffs, declaring its presence to the world.
As you walked alongside Daemon toward the training grounds, you could already hear the excited chatter of your children and the occasional roars of their dragons. The sight before you warmed your heart: Maegon, Vaelya, Aerion, and the twins were bustling around, preparing their saddles and checking their dragons. The bond they shared with their mighty companions was unbreakable, and it showed in every gesture and movement.
Daemon glanced at you with a knowing smirk. “They’ve grown so much,” he said, pride lacing his tone. “Soon they’ll rival even the best riders in the Seven Kingdoms.”
You nodded, your gaze never leaving your children. “They are remarkable,” you said softly. “But that is no surprise—they take after their father."
Daemon chuckled, his arm brushing against yours. “And their mother, who seems determined to keep surprising me.”
As the children mounted their dragons, Daemon turned to you with a playful glint in his eyes. “Come, let us join them. You shouldn’t just watch from the ground.”
You shook your head with a smile, placing a hand on his arm. “Not yet. Go with them, Daemon. I’ll follow soon enough.”
He raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued, but he didn’t press further. “As you wish,” he said with a shrug, leaning in to kiss your temple before walking toward Caraxes.
You watched as your family took to the skies, their dragons soaring into the clouds with powerful wingbeats. Their laughter and cheers echoed down to you, filling the air with a sense of joy and freedom.
Once they were high above, you turned back toward the path leading to Aryx’s cave. The dragon waited for you, his golden eyes watching your every move. With steady determination, you approached and climbed onto his back, feeling the surge of power beneath you as he rose to his full height.
“Let’s give them a surprise,” you murmured to Aryx, and with a mighty roar, he took off.
The wind rushed past you, and the exhilaration of flying filled your chest. As you ascended higher, you spotted your family in the distance. Your children were the first to notice, their astonished faces turning toward you. Vaelya’s delighted laugh rang out, and Maegon pointed, shouting something to Aerion.
Daemon turned, his eyes widening in disbelief as Aryx flew closer. His smirk grew into a full grin as he shook his head, clearly impressed.
You and Aryx joined the formation, gliding gracefully alongside your family. The children circled you, cheering and calling out to Aryx, who responded with a roar of his own. Daemon guided Caraxes closer, his voice carrying over the wind.
“You’ve outdone yourself this time, my love!” he shouted, his grin unrelenting.
You laughed, your heart swelling with pride and happiness. For a moment, as you soared through the skies with your family, all was perfect, and the world felt entirely yours.
As the wind rushed past your face, you couldn’t help but feel a familiar exhilaration coursing through your veins. This wasn’t your first time in the skies; you had flown before, though on Caraxes, with Daemon close behind to guide you. Those moments had been thrilling but restrained, as you were a guest on his dragon, not its rider.
But this—this was different. Sitting atop Aryx, feeling the immense power beneath you, was a completely new sensation. His every movement responded to your unspoken commands, the bond between you forming as if it had always been there.
You recalled Daemon’s words from years ago, the first time you’d mounted Caraxes. “You have the blood of the dragon in your veins,” he’d said, his voice steady with confidence. “It’s time you learned what that means.”
At the time, you’d been nervous but determined. Riding Caraxes had been a test, one that you had passed. Even then, you had felt the connection, the sense of belonging that came with being a Targaryen, a child of fire and blood. But riding another’s dragon, no matter how trusted, was nothing like this.
Aryx was yours. His golden eyes mirrored the fire that burned within you, and his roars seemed to echo the strength you had always carried. It was as if he had been waiting for you all along, waiting for the right moment to be claimed.
Now, as you soared alongside your family, you understood what it truly meant to be a dragonrider. Your mother’s legacy, the Targaryen blood that coursed through your veins, had made this moment possible.
Your children’s cheers and laughter brought you back to the present. Vaelya waved enthusiastically, her silver hair whipping in the wind. “Mother, you look magnificent!” she called out, her voice brimming with excitement.
Daemon, ever the watchful husband, guided Caraxes closer. His eyes gleamed with pride as he glanced at Aryx, then back at you. “I should have known you wouldn’t settle for anything less than your own dragon,” he teased, his voice warm.
You smirked, feeling more confident than ever. “I am a Targaryen, after all,” you replied, your tone playful but resolute.
The skies were alive with the sound of dragons and laughter, and for the first time in a long while, you felt utterly complete. This was your family, your legacy, and your destiny. The dragon within you had awakened, and there was no turning back.
As your feet touched the ground, the adrenaline of the flight still coursing through you, your children came running toward you with wide smiles and eyes alight with excitement.
“Mother, you were incredible!” Maegon exclaimed, his face flushed with admiration. Vaelya nodded vigorously, her silver hair shimmering in the sunlight. “You looked so powerful, flying alongside us!”
Aerion smirked, crossing his arms. “I think Aryx suits you better than Caraxes ever did,” he teased, earning a chuckle from his siblings.
You smiled warmly at them, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “It seems I’ve made the right choice,” you said, glancing back at Aryx, who settled on the ground behind you with a proud huff.
Daemon approached you then, his expression softer than usual, though his eyes still carried that glint of mischief. He placed a hand gently on your stomach, his touch warm and familiar. “The blood of the dragon runs strong in you,” he murmured, his voice laced with pride.
You chuckled softly, resting your hand over his. “And in them too,” you replied, glancing at your children, who were now animatedly talking about your flight.
Daemon leaned closer, his voice low so only you could hear. “You continue to surprise me, my love. First, you claim a dragon, and now you carry another part of our legacy.”
You met his gaze, your smile softening. “This is only the beginning, Daemon,” you whispered, a sense of quiet determination in your tone.
The moment was filled with the warmth of family, the strength of your bond, and the unyielding pride of being part of the Targaryen legacy. Together, as the dragons roared softly in the background, you felt unstoppable.
Time seemed to move swiftly, and now you were in the final months of your pregnancy. Your growing belly made every movement more deliberate, yet you couldn’t help but feel restless under the watchful eyes of Daemon, Maegon, and Aerion.
They had practically barricaded you in your chambers, determined to ensure you rested properly. “Mother, you need to think of the babies,” Maegon would say, his tone a perfect echo of Daemon’s sternness. Aerion, equally protective, would add, “You promised to stay in bed. Don’t make us get Father involved.”
Even Vaelya, your usually gentle daughter, seemed to side with her brothers, albeit with a softer touch. “It’s only a few more weeks, Mother,” she’d plead, her silver hair cascading over her shoulders as she helped adjust your pillows. “You’ll see your dragon again soon.”
The restriction stung most when you thought of Aryx. The bond you had formed with your dragon was unlike anything else, and the thought of not visiting him made your heart ache. Yet every time you mentioned it, Daemon would shoot you a look that left no room for argument.
“I’ll not risk you or our children,” he declared one evening as he sat beside you, his hand resting protectively on your swollen belly. “Aryx will wait, but these little dragons need you here.”
You sighed, leaning back against the pillows. “I’m surrounded by dragons,” you teased lightly, though the frustration lingered in your voice.
Daemon smirked, leaning closer. “Indeed, and they all take after me,” he replied, brushing a strand of hair from your face.
Despite their protectiveness, you couldn’t deny the love and care surrounding you. Even if it meant enduring the confinement for a while longer, you knew it was born of their devotion to you and the new life growing inside you.
Despite the strict orders from Daemon and your sons, you rarely followed them to the letter. You valued your moments of freedom, however small, and the garden became your secret escape.
Whenever Daemon and the children flew together with their dragons, you took the opportunity to slip away from your chambers. With the help of your most trusted handmaidens and guards, you ensured no word of your little excursions ever reached your overprotective family.
Clad in a simple cloak to conceal yourself, you carefully made your way to the garden. The fresh air and the vibrant colors of the flowers felt like a reprieve from the monotony of your confinement. You would sit beneath the shade of a tree, your hand gently resting on your swollen belly as you gazed up at the sky.
Above, the sight of your children soaring through the air on their dragons filled you with pride and joy. You could hear their laughter echoing through the clouds as they raced one another or practiced aerial maneuvers. Aryx’s occasional roar would mix with the sounds of the other dragons, a reminder of the bond you had with him, even if you couldn’t be by his side.
You often whispered to the babies in your belly, “One day, you’ll fly too. Your siblings will teach you everything.”
When their flights ended and they descended back to the ground, you made sure to return to your chambers before anyone noticed your absence. The guards and servants who had kept your secret offered you subtle smiles, understanding the importance of these small moments of peace.
But you knew it was only a matter of time before Daemon or one of your children caught on to your little rebellion. And when that day came, you were sure there would be a lecture—likely from all of them. Until then, you relished these fleeting moments of freedom under the open sky.
As you sat beneath your favorite tree, the soothing breeze ruffling your hair, a familiar voice broke the peaceful silence.
“Mother!” Maegon’s voice echoed through the garden, firm and laced with disapproval. “Why are you not in bed?”
You flinched slightly and turned to see your eldest son striding toward you, his silver hair shining under the sunlight. Aerion followed close behind, his arms crossed, wearing an expression that mirrored his brother’s irritation. Vaelya trailed behind them, her lips pressed into a thin line, clearly torn between supporting her brothers and sympathizing with you.
“I needed some fresh air,” you replied, trying to sound casual as you adjusted your position under the tree. “I promise I’m being careful.”
“That’s not the point, Mother,” Aerion said, his tone exasperated. “You’re supposed to be resting. Father specifically said—”
“Oh, your father,” you interrupted with a soft laugh. “He’ll scold me enough when he finds out. Do you really have to add to it?”
Vaelya stepped forward, her expression softening as she knelt beside you. “Mother, we’re just worried. You’re in your last months, and we don’t want anything to happen to you or the babies.”
Her gentle words tugged at your heart, and you reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “I know, my darling. But I promise I’m not doing anything reckless.”
Maegon knelt in front of you, his hands resting on his knees. “At least let us bring you back to your chambers,” he insisted, his voice softer now but still firm.
“And what of your flight practice?” you asked, tilting your head playfully.
Aerion shook his head. “We’ll return to it after we make sure you’re safely back where you belong.”
You sighed, knowing there was no arguing with them. “Fine,” you relented with a small smile. “But you’ll have to help me up. Your little siblings are making it quite difficult for me to move around these days.”
All three of them immediately moved to assist you, their concern evident in their careful movements. As Maegon and Aerion supported you on either side, Vaelya stayed close, keeping an eye on you as if to ensure you didn’t try to escape their watchful care again.
As you walked back toward the castle, you chuckled softly to yourself. “You’re all so much like your father,” you murmured, earning a collective groan from your children.
“Someone has to be,” Maegon replied with a smirk, and you couldn’t help but laugh.
As you walked back to your chambers with Maegon, Aerion, and Vaelya, you felt the sharp pangs of contraction intensify. Your hand instinctively went to your swollen belly, your breathing becoming shallow as you tried to hide the pain from your children.
“Mother, are you alright?” Vaelya asked, her brows furrowing in concern as she stayed close to you.
“I’m fine, sweet girl,” you replied, offering her a reassuring smile despite the discomfort. “Just help me get to my chambers.”
Once inside, you eased yourself onto the bed, your breaths coming heavier. “Maegon, Aerion,” you said, your voice calm but firm. “Go find your father and bring him here. Tell him it’s urgent.”
Both boys nodded, though worry was evident in their expressions. “We’ll bring him right away,” Maegon assured you before he and Aerion quickly left the room.
Vaelya stayed by your side, her small hands reaching out to hold yours. “Is it time, Mother?” she asked softly, her voice a mix of excitement and nervousness.
“It seems so,” you said, stroking her silver hair to calm her. “But don’t worry, my darling. Everything will be alright.”
She nodded, though her grip on your hand tightened as another contraction hit you. You closed your eyes, taking deep breaths to steady yourself.
“Shall I fetch the maester?” Vaelya offered, her tone eager to help.
“Not yet,” you said, squeezing her hand gently. “Stay with me for a moment. Your brothers and father will be back soon.”
The two of you sat together, the room filled with a quiet tension as you braced yourself for what was to come. Despite the pain, you found comfort in Vaelya’s presence, her strength reminding you of how much she was growing into her own.
You exhaled shakily, gripping Vaelya’s hand as another wave of contractions rippled through you. “Vaelya,” you said softly but firmly, “go now and fetch the maester—”
Before she could respond, the door swung open. Daemon strode in, his expression a mix of worry and urgency, followed closely by Maegon, Aerion, and your younger sons, each looking equally anxious. Behind them came the maester and a group of midwives, already prepared for what lay ahead.
Daemon’s violet eyes locked onto you immediately as he crossed the room in quick strides. “I told you to rest,” he said, though his tone was less scolding and more laced with concern. He knelt beside the bed, gently taking your free hand. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” you managed, though your voice wavered. “It’s time, Daemon.”
Vaelya stepped aside as the maester and midwives moved to your side, their practiced hands beginning preparations. Your sons stood awkwardly by the door, unsure whether to stay or leave, until Daemon turned to them with a commanding but gentle tone.
“Take your sister to the other chamber,” he said, glancing back at Vaelya, who hesitated for a moment. “Stay together and wait for news. I’ll come for you when it’s over.”
Vaelya nodded, her lip trembling slightly as she cast one last glance at you. “Be strong, Mother,” she whispered before Maegon gently guided her out, his arm protectively around her shoulders.
Once the door closed behind them, Daemon turned back to you, his hands moving to steady you as another contraction surged through your body. “You’ll be alright,” he said softly, his voice steady and reassuring. “I’m here. We’re doing this together.”
You gripped his hand tightly, drawing strength from his presence as the maester gave quiet instructions to the midwives. The room filled with focused energy, and despite the pain, you felt a surge of determination. Soon, your family would grow once more.
You screamed as another wave of pain tore through you, your grip on Daemon’s hand tightening until your knuckles turned white. The maester and midwives moved swiftly around you, preparing for the imminent birth, but your focus was entirely on the searing discomfort and the man at your side.
Daemon leaned in closer, his voice low and soothing as he murmured, “You’re strong, my love. You’ve done this before, and you’ll do it again. Breathe with me—”
You shot him a glare sharp enough to rival the edge of Dark Sister. “Easy for you to say,” you snapped through gritted teeth, your tone biting despite the exhaustion. “You’re not the one pushing out your insufferable offspring.”
Daemon smirked faintly, though there was a flicker of guilt in his violet eyes. “Fair enough,” he murmured, brushing damp strands of hair away from your face. “But you’ve always been stronger than me. You’ll survive this, as you always do, and I’ll be here every step of the way.”
Another contraction tore through you, cutting off any retort you might have had. Instead, you groaned loudly, your head falling back against the pillows. Daemon tightened his hold on your hand, his face now entirely serious. “You’re almost there,” he said firmly, his voice unwavering. “Focus. You can do this.”
Despite your irritation, his presence grounded you. As much as you wanted to yell at him for being infuriatingly calm, his unwavering support gave you a sliver of comfort amidst the chaos.
With a guttural scream, you pushed with every ounce of strength you had, your cries echoing through the chamber. Tears streamed down your face as the pain overwhelmed you, but you didn’t stop. The maester’s voice was a distant murmur, urging you to keep going, but all you could focus on was the burning pressure and the sound of your own labored breathing.
From outside, a deep, resonant roar cut through the night—a sound that sent shivers down the spine of everyone in the castle. Your dragon’s call was filled with raw emotion, almost as if it mirrored your pain, your struggle. It was a bond deeper than words, one that transcended distance.
Daemon’s hand was in yours, his grip firm yet reassuring. His voice, usually so confident and commanding, was filled with worry as he whispered, “Almost there, my love. Just a little more. You’ve got this.”
The roar of your dragon grew louder, shaking the very walls, as if demanding your triumph. It was a primal connection—beast and rider, enduring the agony together. The sound gave you strength, a reminder of the power that ran through your veins.
You cried out, gripping the sheets with trembling hands as the maester urged you to push once more. The pain was overwhelming, your body strained beyond its limits, but you knew you were close. Tears streamed down your face as you screamed again, the sound of your agony echoing through the room.
Outside, the roar of your dragon reverberated through the castle walls, a deep, mournful sound that seemed to resonate with your very soul. It was as if the creature could feel every ounce of your pain, sharing in your struggle even from a distance.
“One more push, my lady,” the maester’s voice broke through the haze. “You can do this.”
With every ounce of strength left in you, you pushed, your cries blending with the primal roar of your dragon. And then, suddenly, the tension broke, and the room filled with the sound of a baby’s cry.
Tears of relief and joy blurred your vision as you collapsed back onto the bed, trembling and breathless. Daemon’s grip on your hand tightened, his own eyes shining with unshed tears.
“It’s a girl,” the maester announced with a small smile, carefully wrapping your daughter in a soft cloth before placing her in your arms.
You gazed down at the tiny, wriggling bundle, her silver hair already glinting faintly in the dim candlelight. Her cries quieted as she felt your warmth, her little fists opening and closing as if reaching for you.
Daemon leaned closer, his hand brushing gently against the baby’s head. “A daughter,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “She’s perfect.”
Outside, your dragon’s roar softened, almost as if it, too, was calming down now that the ordeal was over. You smiled weakly, kissing your daughter’s forehead as you whispered, “Welcome to the world, little one.”
You cradled your newborn daughter gently in your arms, her tiny fingers curling around your thumb. Her soft cries had subsided, and now she rested peacefully against your chest. A smile spread across your face as you admired her delicate features. She was perfect in every way.
The door creaked open, and you turned your head to see Vaelya standing there, her silver hair glinting in the candlelight and her violet eyes wide with joy. Her small hands were clasped together, trembling slightly as if she couldn’t contain her excitement.
“She’s here,” Vaelya whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “My sister…”
You beckoned her closer, and she hesitated only a moment before rushing to your side. She gazed down at the baby in awe, her eyes shimmering with tears. “She’s so small,” she murmured, brushing a finger gently across her sister’s tiny hand. “She’s beautiful.”
Before you could respond, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor. Moments later, the door burst open, and your four sons came rushing in, their laughter and voices filling the room.
“Where is she?” Maegon demanded, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on the bundle in your arms. Aerion followed closely behind, shushing his younger brothers even though his own excitement was barely contained.
Vaelya stepped aside reluctantly to give them room, though her protective stance didn’t go unnoticed. Each of the boys took turns peering at their new sister, their expressions a mixture of fascination and pride.
“She’s tiny,” Aerion observed with a grin, his tone teasing. “Like a hatchling."
“She’s a princess,” Maegon corrected him, his voice firm. “And she’ll grow into a dragon, just like us.”
“She already has,” Vaelya interjected, her voice soft but unwavering. “She’s my sister.”
You watched the scene with tears in your eyes, your heart swelling as your children gathered around you. They bickered playfully over who would protect her the most, but their love for their new sibling was already evident.
As the noise subsided, Daemon stepped back into the room, his gaze falling on the six of you. He didn’t say a word but crossed the room to stand by your side, his hand resting on your shoulder.
“She’s ours,” you whispered, looking up at him with a smile. “All of them are.”
“And they’re perfect,” Daemon replied, his voice low with pride as he leaned down to press a kiss to your temple.
Vaelya turned to Daemon with wide, pleading eyes, her excitement almost tangible. “May I name her, Father? Please?” she asked, her voice soft but filled with hope.
Daemon raised an eyebrow, glancing at you with a small smirk. “Do you think you’re ready for such a responsibility, little dragon?” he teased, though his tone was warm.
Vaelya straightened her shoulders, her expression determined. “I am. I’ve been waiting for this moment.”
He chuckled, nodding. “Very well, then. Let’s hear it.”
Vaelya hesitated only for a moment before stepping closer to you, her gaze fixed on her baby sister. “Her name is Nyelarys,” she announced proudly, her voice steady. “It means ‘radiant one’ in High Valyrian. She will shine brighter than the stars, and her fire will be as strong as any dragon.”
The room fell silent as everyone absorbed the name. Daemon tilted his head, a rare softness in his expression as he repeated the name quietly to himself. “Nyelarys,” he said, testing the sound. Then, he nodded in approval. “A fitting name. You’ve done well, Vaelya.”
Your sons, standing nearby, each murmured their agreement, though they couldn’t resist throwing in a few playful comments about who would teach Nyelarys to ride a dragon or wield a sword.
You smiled at Vaelya, your heart swelling with pride. “It’s perfect,” you said softly, stroking her hair. “Just like you.”
Vaelya’s cheeks flushed with happiness, and she looked down at her sister with a radiant smile. “Welcome to the family, Nyelarys,” she whispered.
You smiled warmly at Vaelya as she gazed at her baby sister, her silver hair shining in the soft light of the chamber. “Would you like to hold her?” you asked gently.
Vaelya’s eyes widened, and she looked at you, almost hesitant. “May I?” she asked softly, her voice filled with wonder.
You nodded, adjusting Nyelarys in your arms before carefully passing her to Vaelya. “Of course. Just be gentle.”
Vaelya sat on the edge of the bed, her movements careful and precise. She cradled Nyelarys in her arms, her hands supporting the baby’s head the way you had shown her. For a moment, she simply stared at her little sister, her expression a mixture of awe and adoration.
“She’s so tiny,” Vaelya whispered, a smile tugging at her lips. “And beautiful.”
You watched the tender moment, your heart swelling with pride. “She’s lucky to have a sister like you, Vaelya,” you said softly.
Vaelya looked up at you, her eyes shining. “I’ll protect her. Always. Just like you and Father protect us.”
Your throat tightened at her words, and you leaned forward to kiss her temple. “I know you will,” you murmured.
Nyelarys let out a soft coo, and Vaelya laughed quietly, brushing a finger against the baby’s cheek. “I’ll teach her everything I know,” she said, her voice filled with determination.
The sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway, and you both turned toward the door just as Daemon and your sons returned. Each of them held a cloth-covered bundle, their faces alight with excitement.
“We’ve chosen the perfect egg,” Maegon announced proudly, his voice echoing in the room. Aerion added with a grin, “Father made us climb the hardest path to find it.”
Daemon smirked, holding up the egg he’d chosen. “Only the best for our little princess,” he said, his tone teasing as he walked over to you and Vaelya.
Vaelya glanced down at her sister, then back at the egg. “It will hatch,” she said with confidence. “It has to. She’s one of us.”
You exchanged a knowing look with Daemon as the boys gathered around, their excitement filling the room. It was a moment that reminded you of the strength and love within your family, one that would endure for generations.
Tag list : @danytar @julessworldd @hangmanscoming @yazzzmints @giirlinblack @callsignwidow
#hotd#hotd imagine#hotd x reader#daemon targeryen x reader#daemon x you#daemon targeryan#daemon x reader#hotd daemon#daemon targaryen#daemon au#aegon ii targaryen#hotd aemond#aemond targaryen#hotd one shot#prince aegon targaryen#aegon ii fanfic#aegon x reader
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House of the dragon men and bratty!reader
Daemon -
Daemon is mixed, part of him adores being able to put you in his place, while the other is just wanting you to be a good girl for him and do as he wishes.
(he definitely leans more to liking your bratty behaviour more)
It definitely an ego boost for him when you can go to giving him attitude one minute to crying with his fingers in your cunt the next.
He’s a mix between hard dom and soft dom depending how much of a pain in the ass you’re being.
He just loves teaching you that actions have consequences
“Im sorry my lord!” you squeal as Daemon pulls another orgasm from you. Your legs are now quivering as his fingers don’t stop their attack on your clit. Daemon was invested, one hand was fingering you roughly while the other rubbing quick circles on your clit. It was your third time cumming in a row and you were embarrassed at how quickly he had made you cum each time. “oh? you didn’t seem sorry earlier princess when you were talking to lord Corlys”. So maybe you were feeling a bit neglected and tried to get daemons attention during a feast held by the king. It definitely worked. Your limbs ached due to all of the tensing they had been doing, trying to escape the over stimulation of Daemon’s skilled fingers. “if your crave my attention like a common whore, i’ll treat you like one.” he smirked at you, watching as you tried to make eye contact with him. You were failing miserably. Your eyes rolling back and your body squirming with each pump of his thick digits. His fingers already having you a shaking mess. Just you wait until he fucks you on his cock
Aemond -
Aemond loves it when you are bratty. He loves to play the game
He knows you’re doing it for the sole purpose of him to out you in your place
he’s certainly not complaining because he loves to see how good you can be after a good fuck
“oh fuck, Aemond” You scream, your words sounding slightly slurred due to all the pleasure your receiving. Aemond had you bent over the bed while he fucked you from behind. YOur arse was branded with pink marks in the shape of your husbands hand. His cock was mercilessly pistoning into you with brutal pace. “What happened to my proper lady wife from a moment ago? she had a lot more to say than just my name”. You could hear the smugness in his voice, he was fully aware you were in no shape to answer anything he was saying in that moment. You probably didn’t even hear him properly. All you could do was lay there and take it as he destroyed you. The sounds of skin slapping together was drowned out by your wanton moans you didn’t even bother trying to disguise. Another harsh slap to your behind jolting you forward. You had thought it would be funny to avoid your husband that morning, giving him a slight attitude. To be fair with the way you were being fucked it had worked in your favour. “sȳz hāedar, taking me so well wife.” He bent down to whisper in your ear, laughing at the desperate whine you let out.
Aegon -
Aegon enjoys the chase, and when you misbehave it always keeps things interesting
We all know he would have a power kink after becoming king, so holding dominance over you when you act out is a huge turn on
He enjoys it because it doesn’t take much before you’re acting like his sweet little wife again
“What was that you said earlier my love? about me not being able to fuck you properly was it?” Aegon questioned as his grip on your throat tightened slightly. “Ah Ah, eyes on me” he slapped your face lightly. Your eyes fluttering shut due to the pleasure, his cock dragging in and out of you slowly, teasingly. You forced yourself to make eye contact with your husband, looking at his handsome smirking face “there she is” he whispered watching your face scrunch in pleasure. “im sorry my king” you whispered to him, hoping he would stop this teasing punishment and fuck you hard. This teasing pace felt amazing, but left you teetering on the edge of an orgasm. He knew what he was doing, despite how good you felt wrapped around him, he wasnt going to give up yet. “oh my love, you will be” he smiled at you, kissing you deeply. He removed himself from you almost fully, before plunging back into your soaked cunt. All you could do was moan into the kiss as you felt your husbands smirk against your lips
#aemond x reader#aemond fanfiction#aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen smut#aemond smut#hotd aemond#aemond fic#aegon targaryen x reader#house of the dragon#daemon targeryen smut#daemon x you#daemon x reader#daemon smut#hotd daemon#daemon targaryen smut#daemon targaryen#aegon targaryen smut#aegon smut#aegon ii fanfic#hotd aegon#aegon x reader#hotd smut#hotd men#hotd
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![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/067ffc821c7efac3b1bf7bce3304f8ea/2f11fa27545b97e0-37/s540x810/d9e43b6140ee3b118bf56b6667c624296a4ee6cd.jpg)
Ride a dragon??? RIDE MY FACE
#aemond targaryen#daemon targaryen#ewan mitchell#arwen banerjee#matt smith#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen smut#prince aemond#aemond one eye#hotd premiere#hotd fanart#hotd#house of the dragon art#house of the dragon#daemon targeryen x reader#daemon targaryen smut#ewan crumb#ewan nation#aegon ii targaryen#my art#artists on tumblr#small artist#hotd art#hotd edit#hotd s2#daemyra#aegond#ewanverse#tom glynn carney#alicent hightower
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The High Tower and the Dragon's Heir
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/333c4a720713effded72c62a15b92f8e/284e133dfd067bd6-ca/s540x810/29059b9e8033fd4cac32c4f86eed1961d9fb4063.jpg)
Pairing: Alicent Hightower x male!Targ!reader
Summary: Lady Alicent Hightower was the closest friend of Princess Rhaenyra, yet she couldn't help but fall for her older brother, Y/N.
Warnings: none, following canon divergence
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Alicent Hightower gracefully strolled the corridors of the illustrious Red Keep, her morning lessons with her inseparable companion, Princess Rhaenyra, having just concluded. The echoes of footsteps accompanied her every stride as she made her way towards the luncheon appointment with her father, Ser Otto Hightower, the King's Hand. The castle bursted with vibrant activity—servants hurriedly carried out their duties, knights stood in vigilant postures, and nobles engaged in animated conversations, exchanging the latest court gossip.
As she ascended a majestic staircase, the voice of the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Westerling, reached her ears. With a soft smile, Alicent reciprocated the courteous greeting. The anticipation of her father's chambers lingered in the air as she approached, each step echoing with the weight of her familial responsibilities.
However, the routine of her morning took an unexpected turn when, just before she reached the sanctum of her father, a sudden force collided with her, threatening to send her sprawling. A gasp escaped her lips, but before the cold stone floor could meet her, strong and reassuring hands prevented her from falling. These hands belonged to none other than Y/N Targaryen, the eldest son of the reigning monarch, King Viserys.
In that fleeting moment of unexpected encounter, the bustling ambiance of the Red Keep faded into the background. Alicent found herself lost in his gaze. The air crackled with an unspoken tension, and as Y/N steadied her with an effortless strength, Alicent's heart quickened, realizing that even in the most predictable corridors, destiny had an uncanny way of intertwining lives in an unexpected matter.
"Oh my, Lady Alicent. I'm so sorry; I didn't notice you," the young Prince expressed with a charming smile, nearly as enchanting as the prince himself. His gaze held a hypnotic quality that left Alicent momentarily flustered. Deep down, she possessed an immense fondness for him, but the fear of rejection and the potential repercussions from his younger sister stopped her from ever expressing them.
"No, my Prince. It was I who should've been more careful," Alicent nervously replied, her voice betraying a subtle hint of admiration. The unspoken tension between them lingered in the air. Her father's disapproval of the prince added a layer of complexity to the situation. Otto Hightower believed him to be the same as his uncle, Prince Daemon, hence the mutual hostility.
"Were you heading to your father, perhaps?" the prince inquired, his curiosity evident. Alicent hesitated, aware of the strained relationship between her father, Ser Otto Hightower, and the prince. Otto's opinions about Y/N's fitness for becoming king often clashed with the prince's aspirations.
"Yes, my prince," Alicent replied cautiously, choosing her words with care. The prince graciously took a step back, allowing her to continue her journey towards her father's chambers.
"Then do not let me stop you," he said with a small, understanding smile, his gaze lingering for a moment before gracefully descending the stairs, resuming his own path through the corridors of the Red Keep. That brief encounter, had left Lady Alicent soft in her knees.
Entering the Hand's chambers, Alicent immediately noticed her father seated at the table, a large variety of dishes laid out. She greeted him respectfully and took her place on the opposite side. "Alicent," he acknowledged with a nod, his eyes shining with a mix of sternness and affection. "How was your morning?" he inquired, motioning her to being eating.
"It was fine. I studied with the Princess the whole morning after breaking fast with her and Queen Aemma," Alicent replied, offering a light summary of her activities. The mention of encountering Prince Y/N on her way to her father's chambers prompted a subtle change in his demeanor. His brow lifted, and a stern look accompanied his response. "Prince Y/N is not a good influence. I advise you to avoid him," he coldly said, his voice carrying a weight of disapproval as Alicent cast her gaze downward. "Very well, father," she agreed, and the remainder of their lunch unfolded in a heavy silence.
As Alicent's thoughts drifted back to the violet-eyed prince, she couldn't comprehend her father's disdain for him. In her eyes, he was gallant and the epitome of a perfect prince. The unspoken tension between father and daughter lingered, leaving Alicent with a sense of conflict between her loyalty to her father and a growing curiosity about Y/N.
A fortnight later, the joyous occasion of a tournament took place in order to celebrate the King's anticipated new heir gripped the Red Keep. Nobles from far and wide were invited, marking the event as a grand affair. Queen Aemma, began her labours early in the morning, enduring the suffering alone, as King Viserys presided over the jousting festivities. Prince Daemon, displaying exceptional skills, unseated Alicent's brother Gwayne from his horse.
Victorious, the Prince then diverted his attention towards the stands where Alicent sat. With a charming smile, he asked for her favor, stating, "Lady Alicent, I'm sure your favor would ensure my victory today." Casting a fleeting glance at her father, Alicent handed Daemon her favor. Unbeknownst to her, a certain prince of the crown observed the exchange with a glare and a clenched jaw.
The joy of the tournament swiftly gave way to a somber hush when a messenger arrived bearing the tragic news of Queen Aemma's death. The atmosphere within the Red Keep became grim, mournful mood reigned for weeks. The funeral, held on a distant hill, marked a solemn occasion where the lifeless forms of the Queen and the young Prince lay upon the pyre, awaiting the embrace of dragonfire from Syrax and Shadowspine, the loyal companions of the Queen's surviving children.
Following the ceremony, Alicent found herself once again in her father's chambers, the weight of grief hanging heavily in the air. "How is Rhaenyra?" her father inquired, slight concern etched across his face. Alicent, her fingers idly picking at her fingers, replied, "She just lost her mother." The sorrow that lingered in her words mirrored the collective grief that shrouded the entire Keep.
Not being one to hide his ambitions, her father suggested, "Perhaps you would like to offer the King some comfort. Losing a wife is a terrible thing. He would surely rejoice in a visit." Alicent reluctantly agreed to undertake this solemn task, driven by her desire to please her father. As she turned to leave, she overheard her father's additional instruction, his voice low and laden with subtle implication—indicating that she should dress herself in one of her late mother's gowns.
Rather than heading to the King's chambers as initially intended, Alicent found herself standing before the doors that guarded Prince Y/N's residence. A guard announced her presence, and she entered, greeted by a scene of disarray. The room resembled the aftermath of a storm—furniture upended, decorations scattered in chaotic way. Amidst the disorder, she discovered her prince, seated on the floor, his back against the bed stand, his once-silky hair now tangled, and his eyes holding a haunted look. The scent of alcohol lingered in the air.
Taking a seat beside the prince, Alicent met his gaze, prompting him to question her presence with a strained voice, revealing the results of earlier screams. "I came here to see how you're holding up, my Prince," she replied calmly, her eyes scanning the wreckage around them. He only scoffed in response.
Drawing on her own experiences, Alicent shared, "When my own mother died, people looked at me with pity. I didn't want it. All I wanted was to hear they were sorry." Her empathetic words hung in the air, and she continued, "I'm so sorry for your loss, my Prince," concluding her condolences with a soft look, her eyes reflecting genuine compassion. Y/N stared at her in silence, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, as he began to unveil the weight of his heartache.
"My father's quest for a second son is to blame for this tragedy. He never considered me worthy of the throne," he confessed, his voice full of bitterness and sorrow. "He wished for another son, a better son. One he could put on the throne after himself. I was never enough. Rhaenyra wasn't enough. He killed my mother for a new heir. And now, my brother is also dead," he uttered.
Alicent's heart ached for him, the immensity of his suffering echoing through the confessions. Despite already bearing the responsibilities of being the Heir, this added layer of tragedy made the burden almost unbearable. In her earnest attempt to offer solace, she stood by both Y/N and Princess Rhaenyra, a pillar of support during these dark times.
As Y/N was officially declared Heir before the realm, Alicent stood steadfastly by his side, witnessing the unfolding of destiny. She remained present during the uncomfortable prospect of their father's remarriage, understanding the siblings hesitation. The more time they spent together, the threads of friendship between Alicent and Y/N began to intertwine with the delicate threads of love.
When the time came for the Prince to choose a wife, he declared his intent to marry Lady Alicent, much to Rhaenyra's dismay. While Viserys rejoiced in the prospect, Otto, though reluctantly, agreed to the union. Though not a fervent supporter of the Prince, Otto recognized the strategic significance—marrying his daughter to the future king ensured the placement of his bloodline on the throne.
The union of Alicent and Y/N was immortalized in what became known as the White Wedding. It was a testament to the pure and evident love that bound the newlyweds. The ceremony resonated with the harmonious union of two souls, their vows exchanged amidst the sacred walls of the Sept.
Shorty after their nuptials, the arrival of Aegon Targaryen marked a new chapter in the royal family. The beautiful boy, with the coloring of his father and the distinctive facial structure of his mother, embodied the perfect mix of the royal couple. Aegon, the newest Prince, became a living testament to the love that flourished within the Targaryen lineage.
As Alicent carried the weight of their second child, King Viserys sought to hold a celebratory hunt on his grandson Aegon's second name day. The relationships within the Targaryen family began to mend, albeit slowly, and the noticeable favoritism towards Rhaenyra, perhaps due to her resemblance to her late mother, didn't escape Y/N's notice. Despite the slight discomfort, he chose to focus on his growing family, diverting his attention away from the nuances of favoritism and concentrating on the joyous moments that bound them together.
The grand hunt orchestrated by King Viserys brought a sense of delight to Otto Hightower, who relished the opportunity for both entertainment and strategic alliances. The men, engaged in the pursuit of a White Hart—a symbolic creature representing royalty—set out with purpose, leaving the women to find solace within the safety of the camp.
As Alicent sat beside her husband, Y/N, who held their young son Aegon in his lap, an unexpected intrusion disrupted the peace inside the tent. Rhaenyra, the spirited Princess, burst in with determination, her grievances clear. Viserys, in his pursuit to secure her a suitable match, had orchestrated a connection with Jason Lannister, much to Rhaenyra's vocal displeasure. The fiery Princess asserted her autonomy, rejecting the notion of being treated as a prize to be sold to the highest bidder.
The repercussions of this confrontation left Alicent aware of the strain in her once-unbreakable bond with Rhaenyra. The princess, fueled by a desire to ascend to the throne, resented the twist of fate that seemingly diverted Y/N's affections toward Alicent, who had become the new Princess consort.
In the next years, Rhaenyra's fate took a turn as she was forced into a marriage with her cousin, Ser Laenor Velaryon, because of previous liaison with her uncle Daemon in a pleasure house that added further complexity to the situation. The marriage, arranged against her will, led to the birth of bastards, whom she attempted to pass as legitimate—a move not lost on the eyes of the court.
Despite Viserys's blindness, the court recognized the discrepancy in the children's Valyrian features. Whispers spread, hinting at a connection with Ser Harwing Strong, the Commander of the Gold Cloaks, who served closely under the Princess.
These choices made by Rhaenyra made Alicent bitter. The apparent disregard for duty exhibited by Rhaenyra, coupled with the ability to evade consequences, fueled Alicent's resentment. Yet, in the face of this, the legitimacy of the children born to Y/N and Alicent remained unquestionable. The unmistakable resemblance of each child to their father nullified any potential doubts that might have arisen.
As their children matured, distinct personalities emerged, painting a portrait of the Targaryen legacy. Aegon, the mischievous firstborn, delighted in playing pranks and causing mayhem within the castle. Despite occasional mischief, his loyalty to the family prevailed, a testament to the intricate balance of his character.
Helaena, their only daughter, embodied sweetness and warmth. Though closed off to many, she harbored a great heart, often murmuring riddles that, while dismissed by most, held significance to her parents who recognized her as a dreamer with visions of her own.
Aemond, a mirror image of his father, shared not only physical similarities but also akin personalities. The only distinction lay in Aemond's shyness. His passion for history forged a special bond with King Viserys, who favored the small Prince. Their shared love for learning brought them together in frequent discussions about the boy's recent discoveries.
The youngest, Daeron, charmed all who crossed his path, earning the title of the most popular son among their subjects. His charm and charisma propelled him to Oldtown, serving his mother's uncle as a cupbearer and squire.
Amidst the dynamic growth of their children, Y/N and Alicent's love stood resilient. Any hopes Rhaenyra harbored of a falling out between the couple were in vain; their bond, an indestructible force, continued to strengthen.
The visible strain within the ruling family had spilled beyond the walls of the Red Keep, earning them the titles of "blacks" and "reds" among the common folk and nobility alike. Y/N, recognizing the fractures within his family, attempted reconciliation with his younger sister, but Rhaenyra remained consumed by anger towards him for marrying another and harbored resentment for Alicent, his wife for being said woman. The rift seemed irreparable.
Despite the familial tensions, Y/N maintained a close involvement in the training of his sons, personally overseeing their progress with the assistance of Ser Criston Cole, who had shifted his allegiance from Rhaenyra to the royal family. Aegon and Aemond exhibited remarkable progress, overshadowing their cousins.
During a training session, as Ser Criston instructed the young princes, Y/N was reluctantly pulled away by the demands of his duties as the Heir. King Viserys, observing from the terrace, keenly followed the lesson. The knight, calling upon Aegon, challenged him to a sparring match and taunted, "Let's see if you can touch me. You and your brother." The confident Prince, Aegon, responded with a cocky assurance, "I've won my first bound, Ser Criston. My opponent sues for mercy."
Undeterred, Ser Criston introduced a new challenge, pitting both Aegon and Aemond against him. The two princes advanced, swords in hand, but the seasoned knight skillfully blocked each of their attacks, showcasing his experience and expertise. The training ground became a battleground of skills, the clash of steel echoing the intricate dynamics of power, loyalty, and the indomitable spirit of the Targaryen lineage.
The training ground, alive with the clang of swords and the shuffling of feet, fell into a momentary silence as Ser Harwin approached, offering instructions to the brown-haired princes. His voice redirected Ser Criston's attention toward the younger boys. "It seems like the younger boys could use your attention, Ser," Harwin remarked as he walked closer. A subtle tension hung in the air as Criston questioned, "Are you questioning my method of instruction?"
In response, Criston motioned for Aegon to face Jaecerys, declaring it an "eldest son against eldest son" spar. The white-haired Prince's age and strength became evident as he overpowered the younger Jaecerys. However, as Aegon advanced, he found himself roughly seized by the shoulder and pulled away by Ser Harwin. Aegon, outraged by the intervention, protested loudly, resulting in a reprimand from the King.
Tensions flared further when Criston began questioning the Commander of the Gold Cloaks's interest in the princes' training, suggesting affections that a man might harbor for his children. The insinuation proved too much for Ser Harwin, who snapped and attacked Criston. The incident led to Ser Harwin's banishment from King's Landing, and a few days later, he perished within the walls of Harrenhal along with his father.
More sorrowful news followed swiftly. A raven brought the grim information of Lady Laena Velaryon's death, casting a pall over King's Landing. The weight of Laena's death cast a somber shadow over Y/N, who had considered her another sister growing up. The entire family traveled to Driftmark to pay their respects, attending a funeral marred by Lord Vaemond's continuous accusations directed at Princess Rhaenyra and her bastard sons. Prince Daemon's laughter, strategically employed to deflect attention, added a layer of tension to the already heart-wrenching day.
Once the children retired for the night, Alicent found a moment to speak with her husband. In the quiet confines of their chamber, she gently inquired, "Are you alright, my love?" Y/N, standing by a window overlooking the view of Driftmark, confessed, "She was one of my closest friends, and she died alone. Without her family or friends, because Daemon denied her return. She didn't deserve such a fate."
Alicent, though not as intimately acquainted with Lady Laena, offered words of solace, acknowledging her bravery and kindness. Y/N, appreciating his wife's comforting presence, sighed and turned to look at her. "I'm sure you're right, darling," he said, caressing her face. In that moment, they found solace in each other's embrace, a comforting respite from the sorrow that permeated their hearts.
With a shared understanding, Y/N guided Alicent to bed, where they surrendered to the embrace of sleep, seeking refuge from the weariness that accompanied the emotional journey. Their intertwined forms, nestled in peaceful repose, reflected the enduring strength of their bond in the face of life's inevitable trials.
The tranquility that enveloped Y/N and Alicent was shattered abruptly when a maid, panic-stricken, banged on their door, delivering news of a grave accident involving their son. Swiftly dressing into presentable robes, they rushed towards the hall where their children were present. The sight that awaited them was horrifying—Aemond, their beloved son, was a bloody mess, missing an eye. Alicent's anguished scream pierced the air as she ran towards her injured child.
Demanding answers, Y/N interrogated the Knights, learning that the Prince had been mauled in a brawl with his cousins. The King, arriving on the scene, angrily questioned the guards for allowing such an incident. Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys soon joined, but Y/N's attention shifted to the absence of Princess Rhaenyra. When she finally appeared, followed by Prince Daemon, their disheveled appearance hinted at a liaison that further fueled Y/N's anger. How could they disrespect Lady Laena's memory like this?
Amid the chaos, Rhaenyra declared the incident a "regrettable accident," but Alicent argued it was a planned attack. Rhaenyra defended her sons, claiming they were being attacked with vile insults against their legitimacy "Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned on where he heard such slanders". Y/N's anger flared; his sister intended to torture his gravely wounded son over a truth that was evident.
Rhaenyra's attempt to extract information from Prince Aemond, who had heard the alleged slanders, only heightened tensions. Y/N, protective of his son, forbade any harm to befell Aemond. As the King sought apologies and forgiveness, Alicent snapped, demanding justice and ordering the eye of Lucerys Velaryon to conduct it. Chaos ensued as Alicent, fueled by rage, advanced towards Rhaenyra with a knife. Y/N noticed his uncle making way to two women to undoubtedly aid Rhaenyra, which he couldn't let happen and stopped him before Daemon could reach her.
The struggle between Alicent and Rhaenyra unfolded, the room becoming a battleground of emotions and grievances. In the midst of the chaos, Aemond, now with one eye, offered comfort to his mother, stating "Don't mourn me mother. I might've lost an eye but I gained a dragon". Y/N joined the embrace, and as his father declared the matter over, the fractured family clung to the remnants of peace amidst the aftermath of pain and turmoil.
As the years unfolded, the Targaryen family found solace and unity in each other's company. Every meal became a cherished time for discussion, laughter, and shared moments, further strengthening the familial bonds that had weathered storms and emerged resilient.
Aegon and Helaena's marriage flourished, blessed with their two beautiful children, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera. Aegon transformed into a caring and attentive husband, shedding his earlier tendencies to become the perfect Prince fit to one day ascend the throne. Aemond, despite the challenges posed by his limited vision, emerged as a formidable warrior under his father's tutelage. Determined not to be hindered by his condition, he trained with unparalleled dedication, surpassing many in skill and prowess.
Y/N and Alicent, beaming with pride, reveled in the achievements of their children. However, their joy was tempered by the somber responsibility that befell them. With King Viserys succumbing to sickness, he lay bedridden, casting a long shadow over the realm. The inevitable reality loomed—the time was approaching when a new monarch would ascend the throne.
Amidst the bittersweet echoes of Viserys's declining health, the Targaryen family stood united, ready to face the challenges that awaited them. The transition of power loomed on the horizon, and the legacy of House Targaryen stood at the threshold of a new chapter in the annals of Westeros.
The arrival of a raven bearing Ser Vaemond Velaryon's challenging petition for the Driftwood Throne thrust the Red Keep into a state of heightened anxiety. The assertion that Rhaenyra, Daemon, and their children would return to the heart of the realm brought a cloud of unease over the castle, especially given the recent mysterious death of Laenor Velaryon.
In the midst of the commotion, Alicent navigated through the corridors toward the King's chamber, where she knew Rhaenyra and Daemon would be discussing the pressing matter of King Viserys's condition. Upon entering, she greeted them with courtesy, acknowledging the lapse of time since their last encounter. Daemon responded with a nonchalant hum, while Rhaenyra inquired about the authority overseeing the trial of her son.
A new voice cut through the tension as Y/N entered, a smirk playing on his lips. He revealed himself as the authority presiding over the trial, promising a fair judgment even as he acknowledged the accusations thrown at his wife. The room held its breath, and Alicent, standing beside her husband, added, "We have pressing matters to attend to, but please, make yourself at home." With that, the married couple walked away, leaving the guests to navigate the looming trial and the shadows of familial discord that cast their pall over the Red Keep.
The throne room buzzed with tension as the petitions unfolded, each speaker presenting their case before Y/N, who sat on the throne in his father's stead. The weight of judgment rested heavily on his shoulders. Lord Vaemond Velaryon was the first to address the court, delivering a lengthy discourse on bloodlines and the survival of House Velaryon.
However, the proceedings took an unexpected turn when, during Rhaenyra's turn to present her defense, the door opened, and in walked King Viserys. Ready to defend his favorite child, the ailing monarch cast a shadow over the proceedings. The air thickened with anticipation as the confrontation unfolded.
In a swift and brutal turn of events, Vaemond found himself condemned for openly declaring the princess's sons as bastards. The throne room, once filled with the echoes of legal arguments, now bore witness to the irrevocable consequences of familial discord and political maneuvering. As the lifeblood of House Velaryon spilled in pursuit of power and legitimacy, the court faced the stark reality that the struggle for succession and survival could exact a heavy toll on those entangled in the webs of Westerosi politics.
The atmosphere in the dining hall was thick with tension, mirroring the strained relationships within the Targaryen family. Viserys, lying in his seat of honor, served as the symbolic divide between two estranged siblings, Rhaenyra and Y/N, as the air was charged with unspoken grievances.
Jace and Luke, Baela and Rhaena, each engaged in their own conversations, while Aegon and Helaena shared a tender moment, the Prince gently rubbing his wife's hand. Aemond and Daemon, ever vigilant, sat observing, their tension a reflection of the underlying conflicts.
As King Viserys was carried in, the room stood in a display of respect. The king began his speech, adressing his family. “It’s good to see you all together. My heart aches when I see the faces dearest to me so full of envy and drifting apart form each other. House of the Dragon must be united, so let us forget all and stay strong. If not for the realm, the for this old man, who loves you all dearly.“ But the damage had been done, and the fractures within the family ran too deep to be easily mended.
Rhaenyra's toast, seemingly a gesture of reconciliation, momentarily shifted the mood. Alicent responded gracefully, highlighting the common ground between them as mothers, but the facade of harmony was shattered by a seemingly innocent gesture—a pig brought before Prince Aemond, triggering memories of the Pink Dread incident.
Aemond's explosive reaction disrupted the fragile peace. The room fell into an uneasy silence as he stood, expressing a "final tribute" to the health of his nephews, ending the speech with an insult towards the boys calling them "Strong". Chaos erupted as the young princes clashed, and the adults scrambled to intervene. The disastrous dinner culminated in Princess Rhaenyra's decision to retreat to Dragonstone, leaving behind a shattered illusion of family unity. The scars of the past ran too deep, and the once-grand gesture of a family dinner had unraveled into a painful reminder of the irreparable divisions within House Targaryen.
The dimly lit corridors echoed with quiet footsteps as Y/N made his way to his father's chamber. Upon entering, a solemn atmosphere enveloped the room, and Y/N approached King Viserys. As he assisted the ailing monarch in preparing for sleep, Viserys muttered incoherent phrases, and amidst the confusion, Y/N discerned a recurring theme—Aegon's prophecy.
In the hushed moments of their interaction, the weight of impending succession hung in the air. Viserys, in his final moments, seemed to impart a significant task to his son, urging him to fulfill the prophecy. The murmurings faded as the night unfolded, and King Viserys the Peaceful drew his last breath.
As dawn approached, the realm awaited the news of a new leader who would step forward to succeed the late monarch. The corridors, once traversed by Y/N in anticipation, now held the echoes of transition and the uncertainty that accompanied the changing tides of leadership within House Targaryen.
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A/N: This one is slightly longer, but I couldn't help but give Alicent and her kids the husband and father they deserved. We all could agree that Viserys absolutely sucked in these roles. Thank you for all the support and it would mean the world to me if you checked out my other works ♡
#aemond targaryen x reader#house of the dragon#alicent hightower x reader#male reader#otto hightower#viserys targaryen#rhaenyra targaryen x reader#daemon targeryen x reader#jaecerys velaryon#lucerys velaryon#aemond one eye#aegon targaryen x reader#helaena targaryen x reader#team green#team black#house of the dragon fanfiction#alicent hightower#targaryen reader#aemond hotd#aemond targaryen fanfic#fic rec#hotd season 2#princess rhaenyra#king viserys#queen alicent#alicent hightower fanfic#dance of the dragons#aegon ii targaryen#helaena the dreamer#helaena targaryen
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hi hope you have a nice day :) if you have time could you write hotd's yandere boys (estranged) romantic reaction to his reader wife giving birth to twins? (I apologize in advance if this bothers you or something I swear I didn't mean to :( take care :)
I'm back 😈😈😈
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Aegon was madly in love with you, his darling wife, but he never quite knew how to show it. He had awful habits of drinking, whoring, and gambling, only pushing you further away from him. Each time he'd come crying to you on his knees promising he'd do better, you'd hold him and suppress your feelings, but enough was enough. You were pregnant, carrying his child and he couldn't even make an effort to stop his wanton ways. You were fed up, and rightfully so. You had moved into your own separate apartments, eating your meals alone in your rooms, and avoiding places around the Red Keep you knew your husband would frequent. Eventually, the months passed, and you neared closer to giving birth each day, until one night, your labors finally had begun. Aegon was at some brothel wasting away and getting drunker by the second it seemed. He had no clue you were in the midst of your labors, nor that you would be bringing in not one, but two of his babes into the world. It is only the next day does he wake from his slumber, hungover and feeling ill, does he find out you had given birth. He rushes to your chambers to see you sitting up in bed, cradling two swaddled babes, each one with little tufts of white hair and violet eyes. He'd immediately burst into tears at the sweet sight, begging for your forgiveness and swearing to the old Gods and the new that he would change his lecherous ways for you and his newborn children. Despite your apprehension to forgive him, deep down inside you strangely felt that he would truly honor his promise this time.
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Aemond seemed so cold to you. He was distant and rarely ever spoke to you unless it was necessary. Even when you'd try to initiate conversation he'd only respond cooly with a yes, no, or a simple hum of acknowledgment. You'd tell yourself at night when you lay alone in bed that it could've been worse. He could've been prone to striking you, or he could flaunt paramours in your face. He could've been a drunkard, a wastrel, or a cruel and sadistic husband. However, your efforts to comfort yourself would be in vain, as the feeling of loneliness festered within.
Despite Aemond being a withdrawn husband, you both had done your duty on your wedding night and so it was no surprise you had fallen pregnant. Unbeknownst to you, Aemond was growing more and more obsessive over you once he had been told you were now carrying his child. He didn't mean to be quite neglectful, he only wished to not overwhelm you with his less-than-normal feelings of obsession towards you. He practically stalked you, despite the fact you two were married and expecting a child. The months passed, and Aemond would open up a bit more, showing bits of care and concern toward you in your fragile state. But even then, his actions seemed cold and his words curt. When your labors begin, Aemond remains in the hall outside the birthing room, despite wanting to rush to your side. He decided right then and there as he heard your screams of pain that he would no longer keep up this distant farce. He didn't care if you'd find his attentions odd, he just couldn't bear to torture himself or you any longer. Once he could hear the wails of a baby, he'd rush into the room to be greeted with the sight of two, small, and wailing babes laying on your chest. He'd come to your side, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he admired your newborn twins with a small smile. You felt hope for your marriage at that tender moment, the first hope you had felt in such a long time.
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Jacaerys loves you so much, he truly does, but sometimes you feel as though he puts his duties of being heir above you. He takes his role extremely seriously, as his mother's claim is already shaky due to her being a woman, and his even more so due to the concerns of him being legitimate or not. He doesn't mean to neglect you, to dismiss your attempts at spending time with him, or to hardly inquire about his babe that grows within you. By the time he notices, the damage is already done. You had given up any attempts to spend time with him, to conversate with him, or to merely be in his presence. It seemed to you that he put his duty before you, and you couldn't see how you could change that. Honestly, Jace is so sweet I can't imagine him not immediately coming to you and apologizing immensely for being an inattentive husband, so for the sake of this, let us imagine he finally realizes the effect his actions have on you by the time you are in the midst of your labors. He'd be pacing outside the birthing room, mentally chastising himself for being so foolish. How could he have ever been so stupid to leave you alone when you needed him most? How could he be so cruel to the one he loved most? Your muffled screams of pain from beyond the door shattered his heart even more, and all he could do was wait in borderline painful anticipation. When the maester does let him in the room, he rushes to your side. He apologizes immensely, kissing your tears away and brushing the hair that sticks to your sweaty face out of the way. When he holds the twins for the first time, you watch him adoringly. Everything seemed right again.
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Ser Criston didn't get to see you much. You two were wedded in secret, as due to his vows as a member of the King's Guard, he wasn't allowed to wed or father children. You were a common girl, living in the city, and Ser Criston spent his days and nights at the Red Keep. He could only visit you on his rare days off, and even then those were kept brisk due to his paranoia someone would discover you. You had always tried your best to be understanding, after all, you knew what you were getting into by being romantically involved with a member of the King's Guard. But an awful thought would always linger in your mind whenever you would see Ser Criston: did he regret marrying you? The thought would persist, never leaving like some parasite that had latched onto you. In fact, as the months passed and your stomach swelled with his child, it only grew. He looked uneasy every time he'd stare too long at your pregnant belly, only feeding that awful thought in the back of your mind. Sometimes, you would even find yourself questioning your marriage to him, doubting it all. Your marriage grew tense, and though none of you voiced these feelings, it was evident the doubts festered within both of you. The day Ser Criston visited you after you had brought his twins into the world, he looked shocked. The color seemed to drain from his face, as he saw them. Not one, but two, living breathing children, evidence he had broken his vows. But the heartbroken expression on your face as you held back tears slapped him back into reality. He would quickly kneel by your side, whispering to you how he loved you and the babes more than anything, and that he regretted nothing. When he finally holds the babes, his smile was so genuine, and his eyes were filled with nothing but love. At that moment, those awful doubts faded from your mind, never to be thought of again.
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Daemon longed for battle. He loved you dearly, and so desperately wanted to stay put with you and your unborn babe. But when the fighting in the Stepstones had begun, and the perfect opportunity to spite his brother for refusing to name him heir arose, he couldn't resist. You had begged him to stay, far too worried for the peril he would most certainly face during battle, and fearing for his life. He brushed you off, leaving you behind.
You spent your nights alone, praying to the Seven to keep your lord husband safe so that your child would have a father. He barely wrote to you, and you found yourself getting more and more frustrated at him for leaving you and your child behind to participate in some war that didn't concern him that much. And it wasn't like he wanted to help for some noble cause, you knew he only joined to spite his brother. Instead of spending the remainder of your pregnancy happy with the notion of your child growing within you, you spent it crying tears of anger and sadness.
When Daemon first hears word from a messenger that you had given birth to healthy twins, he abandoned his petty attempts to establish his own kingdom to spite the king. He would return to you as fast as he could, proud that you had given him two strong and healthy heirs. Daemon wasn't the best at saying apologies and preferred to show them through actions. The Stepstones could wait, all he needed right now was to be with you and the newborn twins.
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when that 3am inspiration pulls you out of your sixth month hiatus 😍
#house of the dragon#hotd x reader#hotd imagine#aegon ii targaryen x reader#yandere aegon targaryen x reader#yandere aegon targaryen#aegon targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen#yandere aemond targaryen x reader#yandere aemond targaryen#jace velaryon x reader#jacaerys velaryon x reader#yandere jace velaryon#yandere jacaerys velaryon x reader#ser criston cole x reader#ser criston cole#yandere ser criston cole#daemon targeryen x reader#yandere daemon targaryen x reader#yandere daemon targaryen
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Byka Atroksia (Chapter 1)
Contains: No trigger warnings really just Rhaenyra being mean and tension between uncle and niece
Wordcount: ~2.68k
Masterlist of this story
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You looked out of the window in your chambers in the red keep, watching the approaching ships.
You knew that you should be down there. Like your sister Rhaenyra, waiting at the dock, waving to your uncle and the other people and welcoming them back kind – heartedly in the capital. But you couldn't.
It was too much and you knew if you did what you were supposed to do, you'd feel bad afterwards.
Your sister was three years older than you, 19, beautiful, feminine with full lips and warm eyes. And then there was you. A bit too tall and a bit too thin.
Of course you hadn't always felt that way. But when your cousin Aelon had said that you looked like a boy a few years ago, that had stuck with you. Ever since that day you always had these words in your head and you indeed felt like a boy.
You were 16 now, a grown woman but you didn't have a large chest, beautiful soft curves like a real woman does. Your chest was too small, your hips too slim and your arms and legs were too long. You felt like a fool, a boy… And you knew that a man didn't desire to lay with a boy.
Having a sister like Rhaenyra didn't exactly improve your situation. She was desired by all men in the seven kingdoms. Her grace, her charme and her wide smile had enchanted the grumpiest and rudest lords and knights.
And it had also enchanted your uncle Daemon, you were certain. Daemon Targaryen, brother of your father, Viserys Targaryen. Daemon was chaotic, wild, messy and dangerous. And all these traits had always made him so interesting to you and your sister.
Your father was the exact opposite. Rhaenyra and your mother had died when you were little and your father had wanted to protect you two ever since. Perhaps it was because you were the only two things left of your mother or it simply was because he didn't want to lose what he loved again. It didn't matter, he guarded and protected the two of you as if you were made of glass.
That was probably why your uncle had always been that interesting because he was different. Rhaenyra and you knew him as dangerous ever since you were born. He brought excitement, risk and thrill. When he came around you knew that it wouldn't be boring and you knew that everything would be different to what you expected.
Perhaps that was the reason why you and Rhaenyra had been fighting for your uncle's attention as long as you could remember. It was about who Daemon looked at longer, whose jokes he laughed about louder and who he brought the more special gifts.
You were competing and battling for his gaze and appreciation. Each of you wanted him to like you just a little bit more than the other.
When he made you a compliment you could feel Rhaenyra's angry gaze burning a hole in your back. But when he asked Rhaenyra for a dance on a name day of some distant cousin it was not rare for you to cry your eyes out in your chambers from anger and desperation.
You couldn't even exactly pin point when this competition had started and you didn't even exactly know what it was about. What was the prize, what were you fighting for? It simlpy was like a unspoken game between you, even though game seemed like a word too kind for this battle. You couldn't even exactly tell whether Daemon knew about the battle between you and your sister. At least he had never shown any sign that he did so you were not able to figure it out.
Over the last couple of years though, you had felt like you were losing this very game. When you were 12 you had seen Rhaenyra change. She had been growing and becoming a woman and you had feared you'd lose your uncle's attention.
You didn't entirely, but at the same time you felt as if he liked Rhaenyra better. Perhaps because she was more like Daemon than you were.
She was brave and witty, she made jokes while there were important men with important positions at the table. She was cocky and wasn't afraid to speak up to a lord who was twice her age. Rhaenyra was bold and it had happened more than once that she had gone out for a midnight stroll in the city, something that you wouldn't dare to do.
Maybe you were more like Viserys, you followed the rules and kept your head down. But you didn't do this to impress your father, no, you didn't want to be that way.
You wanted to be special, someone the people were talking about. You wanted your uncle to raise his eyebrows impressed when you told him about your adventures and wanted him to laugh about your quick-witted temper. You wanted him to flirt with you and wanted to be able to answer just as charmingly. But you knew that you couldn't.
Perhaps it was just the way you are, you weren't able to act that way. You looked down when important people spoke to you and you laughed at your sister's jokes instead of making some yourself.
So that's why you sometimes considered the competition with Rhaenyra finished. You couldn't even be mad at Daemon for prefering your sister. She was indeed more like him and she definitely had more to offer. Not only a more beautiful face but a smart and funny mind. Things simply were the way they were and you couldn't change them.
~~~~~~~~~~
You couldn't watch everything out of your window but you could see the boats arriving and tiny people stepping from the boats to the ground. Daemon had been at the Stepstones the last weeks fighting a war against the Triarchy. You hadn't seen him in four months and actually were looking forward to have him back at the red keep.
Your ongoing battle with Rhaenyra wasn't everything. You always had a good and exciting time with Daemon and enjoyed spending your hours with him in the gardens or at dinner.
Then after a while all the tiny people had stepped inside the carriages and there was nothing to see anymore. They would drive to the red keep now and then there would probably be a little welcoming and then a big feast in the evening to celebrate the King’s brother's safe return.
You stepped away from the big window and sat down on a chair. You knew you couldn't hide in your chambers all day. You knew you would have to attend tonight's feast and it wasn't like you had to be forced to go there.
You couldn't even exactly say why you had refused to go to the bay to welcome the ships. Because once again, you didn't despise spending time with Daemon at all, it was the contrary. He made you giggle and blush and smile. You just felt like competing with Rhaenyra for his attention took all of your energy and it sometimes could be very exhausting. Now you took the book next to your bed and turned the pages bored. You couldn't really focus on the letters and just wanted time to pass. You didn't even know what you were waiting for, perhaps it was the feast tonight.
You were really looking forward to seeing your uncle but you didn't have the courage to leave your room to make a special entry down in the hall either. That exactly was a good example of how you were different to Rhaenyra because your sister most certainly wouldn't have a problem doing something like this.
You were still trying to focus on your book when there was a knock on your door. "Come in.", you said surprised and then the door opened. "Uncle?!" You couldn't supress a wide smile and stood up.
He had come. He had come to see her shortly after his arrival. He hadn't gone up to his room, hadn't strolled through the gardens with Rhaenyra (at least not for a very long time because some time had passed since his arrival and you obviously couldn't tell what he had been doing since he had arrived), no he had come up all the steps of the staircases to see you.
He wore black trousers and skirts with a red shirt underneath and of course, looked handsome as always.
You fastly walked towards him and wrapped your arms around him. He returned the hug and buried his face in your hair. "My beautiful niece. Wonderful to see you." You smiled softly, which he couldn't see and felt your heart beating faster at his words. You ended the hug and you could see Daemon watch you closely.
"I must admit I was a little disappointed to not see you at the dock.", he smirked. "I'm sorry, I… I wasn't feeling very well earlier.", you lied and Daemon immediately took a step back.
"Do not tell me that you're ill and I'll be walking out of here with the fever.", he hissed with small eyes but smirked. You laughed and crossed your arms over your chest.
"No I'm not ill. It was simply a headache." "I’m glad, little owl."
'Little owl'. That was his nickname for you and you didn't know what to think of it. You found it cute that he even bothered to have a nickname for you but at the same time you were wondering whether or not it once again confirmed your apprehension. Weren’t you nothing but a boring, quiet, night owl to him after all?
Daemon called Rhaenyra little storm sometimes but the nickname definitely wasn’t as established as yours and he only used it very rarely, but you still didn’t know if it was good or bad.
"But how are you, uncle? What are the stepstones like?" Daemon threw his head back. "Let me think, there is…. Bad wine, bad climate and no feather beds. In other words, I’m happy to be back.", he smiled and you couldn’t help but softly smile as well.
You were so happy to have him back after all. "I have something for you, by the way." You looked up to him to meet his gaze and he grinned crookedly.
"Turn around.", he spoke and you did as he had told you. Once your back was facing him he gently moved your hair out of the way. You helped him and exposed your neck and then you felt Daemon reaching around your neck to put a necklace on you. His hand brushed over your soft skin and you could feel yourself getting goosebumps and just hoped Daemon didn’t notice it. His hands were so close and you felt the blood pulsating in your veins.
He had closed the claps and you slowly turned around. Daemon smirked and watched the pendant on your skin.
"Beautiful.", he whispered and you could feel the blood rising in your cheeks again. Then you stepped in front of the mirror to watch yourself. The pendant glistened golden and it had a red flower on it. It was incredibly beautiful and you happily played with it.
"Thank you uncle. It’s lovely." Daemon stepped behind you and watched you as well through the mirror. You could feel his arm against your back and slightly shivered which made you angry. Why couldn’t you just play it cool for once in your life?
"You’ve become a woman, little owl.", he then whispered and didn’t take his eyes off the reflection of you. Your eyes searched for his‘ in the mirror and you didn’t know what to answer. You felt his chin brush against your hair. He was so close to you, you could literally feel his warmth.
"I’m 16.", you said and wanted to slap yourself. That had literally been the worst answer one could think of. Daemon chuckled in response.
"I feel like you have changed in these last four months." You smiled softly. "I don’t think I have." Your uncle smirked and you could feel his hand ligthly over your arm.
"Perhaps I should look at you more accurately then." You could feel your breath fasten and helplessly bit on your lip just to do anything. Daemon looked down to your naked shoulder as you could see in the mirror when he suddenly stepped away from you.
You exhaled loudly and all of the tension was gone. You aimlessly walked around in the room and tried to collect yourself.
"I’ll go now, I have to rest before the feast tonight." Your head turned to watch your uncle still smirking. "Yes, yes. I’ll see you later.", you spoke with a weak voice and didn’t look at him while he left your room.
'What was that?', you thought and tried to get more air to reach your lungs. Had you imagined this or had there been tension between the two of you? You knew your uncle and you knew that he liked to be a bit flirty but this right now…. He had been so close to you and what did he say? He should look at you more accurately, what did that even mean?
You supported your weak body by resting your hands on the desk. Slowly you could feel your heartbeat slow down and after a while dared to stand on your own without the support of the desk. Your hands were still slightly shaking but after another 5 minutes you almost felt like yourself again.
~~~~~~~~~~
Two hours later you were finally walking down the stairs and headed to the hall. You had spent the last two hours overthinking every second of your encounter with your uncle and had come to the conclusion that after four months of fighting a war, Daemon had simply wanted to play with her a little and she shouldn’t read anything into it. He probably had just felt like confusing her a bit and it honestly made a lot of sense, considering it was his nature to be a bit coquettish.
You now wore a red gown that exposed your shoulders and collar bones. It fell down to the ground and was tight at your waist. When you were about to step through the door to enter the hall in which the feast would take place you could feel a hand on your shoulder.
"Sister.", Rhaenyra hissed and you turned around. "Rhaenyra.", you greeted her.
"Where were you all day? Why didn’t you come with us to welcome uncle?" You raised your chin, promising yourself to be brave and self confident today. "I wasn’t feeling very well, sister. I prefered to spend the noon in my chambers."
Rhaenyra frowned. "I don’t believe you." "Then don’t, but I’m telling the truth." Your sister took a step back from you and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Is this about uncle?" You chuckled. "What about him?"
"You didn’t want to see him, did you?" You laughed loudly. "Why shouldn’t I?" "Because you don’t like to see him put his attention on any other person who’s not you." Rhaenyra smiled evily and you just wanted to punch that smirk out of her face.
"That’s not true, I told you I simply had a headache." "You NEVER have a headache." Slowly you got angry. "Well I did today and this is none of your business anyway."
Rhaenyra smirked even wider and took another step back. "I’m going to go fly with uncle tomorrow, by the way. On Caraxes. We’re going to Dragonstone and he said he’s gonna show me around the caves."
Your heart was beating faster and you could feel your anger and pain going to your head. With all your energy you tried to make the tears that you started to feel in your eyes vanish but you knew that Rhaenyra had noticed them. "I hope you have a good time.", you pressed and then turned around and entered the hall.
#fanfic#fanfiction#smut#house of the dragon#house targaryen#hotd#hotd season 2#hotd s2#hotd meme#rhaenyra targaryen#hotdedit#hotd spoilers#alicent hightower#daemon x reader#daemon targeryen x reader#daemon targaryen#daemyra#daemon x rhaenyra#daemon targeryan#hotd daemon#rhaenyra#queen rhaenyra targaryen#cregan stark#simon strong#aemond targaryen#aegon ii targaryen#helaena targaryen#fire and blood#dance of the dragons#house hightower
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#house of the dragon#dance of the dragons#aemond targaryen#alicent hightower#aegon ii targaryen#rhaenyra targaryen#daemon targeryen x reader#aemond targaryen x reader#girlblogging#daemon targaryen#team green#team black#aegon targaryen x reader#aegon x reader#everyone is terrible so fuck it
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My Mothers Keeper
Daemon X Fem!Reader
|Step father x step kid fantasy taboo|
Reader is of age!
Smut! MDNI !
He looked so good, his blonde hair cut short, brows pulled together as he leant back and took a sip of his wine with his free hand thudding his fingers along the edge of the table.
I know what those fingers feel like. The euphoria they bring me when he plays with the bundle of nerves between my legs, I know how they fit in my mouth and how my juices taste on them. Daemon Targaryen, my step father, my mother’s keeper and the only man to know what I truly desire.
He sat conversing with Jace about his swordsmanship, he didn’t give away if he noticed my hand creeping up his thigh. Having been leant against his chair for quite some time now no one questions when I lean in a little more. Mother too immersed in what Luke has to say to pull away her attention, I work my hand over his clothed length smirking when I feel him harden in my palm and his body slightly tenses. I loosen the lace on his pants just enough to pull him out, slicking my hand with his seed as I begin to stroke him slowly. I take the opportunity that no one’s paying attention, slipping beneath the table as I keep working his cock.
I wait a moment for someone to notice, my core throbbing as I stroke his thick cock knowing anyone could catch us if they paid any attention. I take him in my mouth, licking from his base to the tip swirling my tongue and tacking him in fully hollowing out my cheeks, bobbing my head quickly and stroking what I can’t reach while twisting my wrist. Daemons hand moved from the table to hold my hand that rested on his clothed thigh, squeezing at times to let me know it feels as good as I think it does. His hand moves to my hair and he shoves my head down without warning, my gag reflex triggers as he blows his load in the back of my throat I swallow and pull off slowly. I clear my throat after I sit back in my seat, taking a sip of wine and placing Joffrey on my lap as his nurse maid brings him in.
Slowly everyone disperses from the dinning area, I step into my room to take my bath, the boys are gone down to the dragon mont, Joffrey is off with his nursemaid and I have no idea where mother and Daemon went. I strip of the days clothes and get into the bath, unbraiding my hair as I breathe in the rose and vanilla oils in the water humming a tune from a bards ballad. I was washing my hair when he came in through one of the old tunnels, quietly sitting at the table across from me and pouring himself some wine as he watched me finish bathing. As I was ready to get out he brought a drying sheet, extended me his hand helping me down the steps while admiring my bare self.
“You’re truly an amazing creature” Daemon started “A little fox, sneaky, beautiful and vicious” Daemon teases as he wraps his arms around me, pulling me close and kissing my neck. Running his hands around my damp curves as he walks us to the bed, his lips molding with mine before he removes my towel and lifts me onto the bed. Daemon wastes no time as his fingers immediately make contact with my aching core, my slick coating his fingers as he skillfully manipulates my clit. “You’re such a pretty whore, a whore for your daddy huh” Daemon grumbles out, his voice thick with lust as he looks into my mixed coloured eyes and watches the look of pleasure on my face.
“Only for Daddy” I tell him with a tremble, gasping as he inserts two fingers in my aching cunt and starts ruthlessly thrusting into me. “Mmm- you were fucking made for me” Daemon says as he moves over me, removing his hand from me and placing his mouth on my clit, his tongue drawing shapes as he applies more pressure. “S’good daddy, please don’t stop, fuck” I moan out as he places his fingers back in and sets his pace again his mouth slurping my juices relentlessly as he shakes his head with a moan. “Need yo- your cock, Daddy please” I moan arching my back as I feel my climax coming. Daemon just moans in response pressing his head against me harder, with one last flick of his tongue I cum. Shaking and sweating, hands holding his head in between my legs moans flowing loudly out of my mouth as he rubs my thighs his tongue slowly helping me ride out my high.
“Now you’ll take Daddy’s cock you little slut” Daemon demands as he unlaces his pants, pushing them down and rubbing his hard length between my lips collecting my slick, without warning he thrusts into me, my hand finding his hip and our eyes locked as we both moan at the sensation. Daemon is ruthless in his speed, slamming his hips into mine with each thrust squelching sounds being heard around the room as his dick forces my cunt open. Our moans are hardly held back, his hands holding my legs bent and pushed back as one of mine plays with my nipple and the other grips his wrist. “Daddy feels so good!” I moan out, back arching off the bed as he thrusts deeper, his head thrown back a little before he looks back at me with a smirk “This is Daddy’s perfect fucking pussy. I’ll burn any man who tries to claim it” Daemon groans as he lets go of my leg and moves to wrap his hand around my neck, cutting off blood flow with the new position his pelvis slaps my clit with each thrust.
“Gonna fucking cum Daddy” I moan out as I scratch his wrist, my pussy tightening around his cock as I start to see stars. “Cum on Daddy’s cock sweet girl” Daemon demands, speeding up his thrusts and pushing me over the edge, shaking as I choke out a moan and cream all over his pretty cock, Daemon moans as he spills his seed in me and stays still for a moment. “You’re going to bare my child, you will never know another cock” Daemon says breathlessly, walking to the basin and grabbing a damp cloth coming back to wipe me off and then himself. Daemon says nothing else as he crawls into bed and holds me close, caressing my shoulder as I snuggle into his side. “We are not naming him fucking Aegon” I tell him finally realizing what he said. “On that we agree” Daemon says with a chuckle.
#rhaenyra targaryen#hotd aemond#hotd fanfic#hotd#hotdsmut#daemon targeryan#daemon targaryen#hotd daemon#daemon x reader#daemon targeryen x reader#naughty stepdaughter#step dad#house of the dragon#house targaryen#jacaerys targaryen#baela targaryen#viserys targaryen#helaena targaryen#aemond targaryen#aegon ii targaryen#smut#daemon smut#smutty smut smut#foryoupage#foryou
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Friendly reminder that with season two of House of the Dragon coming out in less than two weeks, DO NOT GET ON HERE ACTING A FOOL!
I better not see ANY hate towards ANY actor in that show. I repeat: DO NOT GET ON HERE ACTING A FOOL AND SENDING HATE TOWARDS THE ACTORS.
Actors are NOT their characters.
If you cannot differentiate between fiction and reality and separate the actor from the character that they play, then you have NO business consuming that piece of media because obviously you are not mature enough.
Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.
#hotd#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen#jacaerys velaryon#hotd x reader#jacaerys velaryon x reader#aemond targaryen x reader#aegon ii targaryen#daemon targaryen#rhaenyra targaryen#alicent hightower#daemon targeryen x reader
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My Baby Targaryen Fancasts
featuring: Jaehaera, Jaehaerys, Maelor, Joffrey, Aegon iii, Viserys ii
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↪Jaehaera Targaryen, daughter of King Aegon ii Targaryen and Queen Helaena Targaryen (couldn't decide)
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↪Jaehaerys Targaryen ii, son of King Aegon ii Targaryen and Queen Helaena Targaryen
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/45a6e0bbccebfcaff3347f123c9a36ef/845b4c7ebd41d5a1-5a/s540x810/359e30d82485a75482c705f6487927b5cc44945c.jpg)
↪Maelor Targaryen, son of King Aegon ii Targaryen and Queen Helaena Targaryen
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/3224dfe56883c85dc6ef0938a6be8be8/845b4c7ebd41d5a1-40/s540x810/af15c32b2de9f4e248d11cb2ff66fe305f1683a0.jpg)
↪Joffrey Velaryon, son of Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen and Lord Laenor Velaryon
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/13cfce0fae3b2f7be0e4b68eff036943/845b4c7ebd41d5a1-a1/s540x810/82a9250a38af40bb81118279adb7d039e457da41.jpg)
↪Aegon Targaryen iii, son of Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen and Prince Consort Daemon Targaryen
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/c31ea9a65e348629e558c93556ecce18/845b4c7ebd41d5a1-5b/s540x810/0a8d75a7fdf0513b8502decf727648f208ce5173.jpg)
↪Viserys Targaryen ii, son of Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen and Prince Consort Daemon Targaryen
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/f58dc4a762af79a2102aa762db60bd86/845b4c7ebd41d5a1-53/s540x810/35afdef5b8f7a0a12f2da0b5742299100f57723e.jpg)
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What do you guys think? Let me know who you'd swap, and who you fancast as the baby Targaryens. and yes i did put legolas as viserys, i did that.
#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen#hotd#asoiaf#a song of ice and fire#fancast#aegon ii targaryen#rhaenyra targaryen#daemon targaryen#helaena targaryen#jaehaerys targaryen#jaehaera targaryen#maelor targaryen#maelor the missing#aegon iii targaryen#joffery velaryon#viserys iii targaryen#alicent hightower#aemond targaryen x reader#aegon ii targaryen x reader#daemon targeryen x reader#aemond x reader#aegon ii x reader#daemon x reader
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Fire and Rose Petals - Daemon Targaryen x Reader
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/b9f8c3bb35d764b09a5203fb7ef6c345/176ad9f75cc73b0f-c5/s540x810/3bb3ccded4e1ec6b5e043b4556e8144216283dab.jpg)
summary : your marriage with daemon is no longer based on duty, but love. you and daemon become more and more inseparable, until good news comes and you both love each other even more.
It’s been nearly a month since you and Daemon married, and you’ve both decided to stay for a while at Dragonstone, where the quiet and solitude allow you both to enjoy each other’s company without the looming pressures of the court. The island feels like a world of its own, a place where the noise of the kingdom fades, and it’s just the two of you.
The bond between you and Daemon has only grown stronger during these weeks. You’ve become inseparable, finding comfort and peace in each other’s presence. Wherever you are, Daemon is there too, and vice versa. It’s as if the two of you were always meant to be side by side. There’s a certain intimacy in this, a closeness that even the eyes of others can’t break.
Today, you find yourselves in the garden of Dragonstone, surrounded by the wild beauty of the island. The sun is setting, casting an amber glow across the sky, and the air is cool, perfect for an evening spent outdoors. You’re seated comfortably in Daemon’s lap, your body relaxed against his chest as he holds you effortlessly.
You’re both at ease, content in each other’s presence. Daemon’s hand rests on your waist, the gentle touch of his fingers grounding you as you chat softly. His presence is warm and protective, and in this moment, there’s no need for words. His eyes are focused on you, but it’s the soft smile he wears that makes your heart flutter every time.
“I never thought I’d enjoy the quiet so much,” you murmur, looking out at the horizon, where the sun dips lower behind the cliffs of Dragonstone. “Back at court, there was always something happening. It feels so peaceful here.”
Daemon chuckles softly, his voice low and soothing. “I’ve always preferred the calm,” he says. “It gives us time to focus on what truly matters.”
You smile and turn your head slightly, catching his gaze. “And what matters most to you?” you ask, a teasing tone in your voice.
Daemon’s eyes soften as he looks at you, and for a moment, there’s a flicker of something deeper in his expression. “You,” he replies simply, his voice full of sincerity. “You matter most to me, always have.”
His words settle in the space between you, and you feel a warmth spread through your chest. It’s moments like these that remind you of the strength of the bond between you both, a connection that goes beyond the expectations of marriage or royalty. It’s something entirely your own, something deeply personal.
“You’re quite good at making me feel special,” you say with a smile, resting your hand over his. “How did I ever get so lucky?”
Daemon smirks, his confidence never waning. “You didn’t get lucky,” he says, his tone playful. “You chose wisely.”
You laugh softly, feeling the weight of the moment sink in. In this peaceful space, with the sunset casting a soft glow around you and Daemon holding you close, everything else seems far away. It’s just the two of you, and in that simplicity, you find a happiness you hadn’t anticipated.
As you sit there, gazing at Daemon with a soft smile, you can’t help but notice the way his expression shifts. He’s usually confident and calm, but there’s something in his eyes today that seems distant, almost preoccupied. You catch his gaze, sensing that something is weighing on his mind.
“Daemon,” you ask gently, your voice laced with concern. “What’s on your mind? You seem… lost in thought.”
He hesitates for a moment, then sighs, his eyes meeting yours. “It’s nothing,” he begins, his voice carrying a hint of reluctance. “It’s just… my father asked me today if you were pregnant yet. If we were expecting.”
You blink in surprise, the words catching you off guard. You’d heard whispers about the expectation of an heir, but to have it brought up so directly by his father feels like an unexpected turn in your still-fresh marriage.
“Your father asked that?” you repeat, trying to process the weight of it. The idea of bearing an heir to the Targaryen name had always loomed over you, but the pressure of it suddenly feels more real.
Daemon nods, his jaw tightening slightly. “Yes. He’s… eager for grandchildren, for the line to continue. And I’m sure he thinks it’s time.”
You feel a flicker of discomfort at his words. It’s clear that Daemon, though he is fiercely independent and unwilling to be controlled by anyone, still feels the weight of his father’s expectations. You can sense the subtle pressure he’s under.
“I see,” you reply, your voice quiet, unsure of what to say next. Part of you feels the weight of this expectation too. While you’ve grown closer to Daemon and found happiness together, the idea of bearing an heir for House Targaryen, and the eyes that would be on you because of it, is daunting.
Daemon catches your eye again, his expression softening as if sensing your unease. “Don’t worry about it,” he says, a hint of his usual smirk returning. “I told him we’ll let things happen when they do. But my father’s… persistent.”
You let out a small breath, relieved by his words, but still, the notion lingers in the back of your mind. The idea of starting a family with Daemon, of continuing the Targaryen legacy, feels monumental in ways you hadn’t anticipated.
Daemon leans in slightly, his gaze intense but comforting. “We’ll handle it together, as we always do. Whatever happens, we’ll decide when the time is right.”
His words ease some of the tension in your chest, and you nod, smiling up at him. For now, you remind yourself, you have each other, and that is enough. The rest—whether or not you bear an heir—will come when the time is right.
“You’re right,” you agree, a sense of peace returning. “We’ll figure it out together.”
You gently caress Daemon’s cheek, your fingers tracing the familiar lines of his face as you move closer, pressing your lips softly against his. A small sigh escapes you as you pull back slightly, your eyes searching his for any hint of doubt. There’s a quiet longing between you both, a shared desire that hasn’t been fulfilled yet, despite your efforts.
“I do want to bear your child,” you murmur softly, the words heavy with meaning. “But perhaps the gods have yet to grant us that blessing.”
Daemon’s gaze softens, his hand moving to cup your face gently, as if to comfort you. “Don’t worry, my love,” he says, his voice steady and filled with warmth. “The gods move at their own pace. We have time.”
You smile faintly, nodding in agreement, but deep down, you can’t help but feel the weight of expectation. While both of you are deeply connected and share a powerful bond, the idea of bearing an heir—especially in the eyes of the Targaryen family—is something that looms over you.
But as Daemon holds you close, his words offering reassurance, you remind yourself that love and patience can make even the most difficult paths seem easier to navigate.
At night, the sounds of passion fill the room, your connection growing stronger with every shared moment, every whispered promise. You know that your efforts are not in vain, and while the gods may have their own timeline, you and Daemon will keep trying. Together, there is nothing you cannot face.
For now, you savor each moment, each touch, knowing that in time, the gods may choose to bless you with the family you both yearn for. And when that moment comes, you will face it hand in hand with Daemon, as you always have.
You position yourself to sit facing him, he quickly hugs your waist and looks at you. You smile and kiss his lips, he who understands your intention then lifts your heavy dress to reduce the distance between you.
His hands began to untie your dress enough for you to let out your chest, he slowly squeezed it which made you moan softly. He broke his kiss and started to kiss your neck, then his mouth went down to your chest and devoured it. you gently squeezed his hair and closed your eyes, "are you sure you want to do it here? now?"
You just nodded and started to untie his pants, daemon smiled and kissed your lips again. You held his hard cock, then you directed his cock towards your wet core. Daemon removed your small cloth and began to insert his cock, you moaned as you felt him enter you completely and fill you. "Gods, how can you still be this tight after all the nights we've had?"
you laughed softly before finally moving your hips, you moaned softly. in this position you could feel him filling you, you could feel his hands on your waist following the rhythm of your hips.
"I want you to fill me up, full of your seed, round with your child" you whispered and bit his ear softly, He growled before finally lifting you up and pinning you against the wall, you moaned as he started pounding into you fast and rough. his mouth found your nipple again and sucked on it, you could only moan at the pleasure he was giving you.
"you want to be filled with my seed? you want to have my child?" you just nodded and moaned as his rhythm got faster and rougher. he growled and choked your neck softly, something inside you woke up and made you hotter. "give me your child daemon, i want you to impregnate me"
He growls and you can feel his cock twitching inside you signaling he's about to peak, “Gonna fill you up,” he growls. “With my cum until you're leaking and breed you until I'm satisfied."
you moaned as he continued to hit your sweet spot, "you take me so well, I never thought my sweet wife could turn into a whore when she was with me" Daemon growled softly and thrust his cock inside you before he finally painted your walls white.
Your breath was still, he pulled out his cock and laughed softly as he saw your juices running down your legs.
He then kissed your forehead and helped you adjust your dress before finally putting his pants back on. "If we do this more often, soon we will see little daemons or little you running around this park" you laughed hearing his words.
You let out a small yelp as Daemon suddenly lifts you off the ground, his arms strong and steady as he cradles you against his chest. Surprise quickly melts into laughter, the sound light and carefree as you wrap your arms around his neck.
“Daemon!” you exclaim, still laughing as you glance around. “People are gonna watching!”
He tilts his head to look at you, a mischievous grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “Let them watch,” he replies, his voice laced with that familiar cocky charm. “Let them see how much I cherish my wife.”
Your cheeks flush, not from embarrassment but from the warmth his words bring. You tuck your face into the crook of his neck, hiding your smile as you feel the steady beat of his heart against you. His confidence has always been something you admired, and moments like this remind you of how much he truly doesn’t care for the opinions of others.
The soft murmurs of servants and the subtle glances from guards don’t faze him in the slightest. His focus is on you — only you. His steps are firm and unbothered as he carries you through the corridors of Dragonstone, his gaze unwavering as if daring anyone to question him.
The cool stone walls surround you as he makes his way toward your shared chambers. Every so often, he presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering longer each time. It’s a gesture so tender, so genuine, that your heart feels as if it might burst.
“You enjoy this too much,” you tease, glancing up at him with narrowed eyes, though your smile betrays you.
“Of course I do,” he says with a smirk, his voice low and smooth. “Carrying the most precious thing in this keep? I’d do it every day if you’d let me.”
You shake your head, your smile never fading. “You’ll spoil me.”
“That’s the point,” he replies, his eyes full of affection.
When you finally reach your chambers, he doesn’t put you down right away. Instead, he lingers in the doorway, holding you close as if unwilling to let go. His eyes meet yours, filled with a kind of devotion that words could never fully express.
“Home,” he says quietly, his gaze unwavering. “Wherever you are, that is home.”
Your breath catches for a moment, but you quickly lean up to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Then don’t ever leave,” you whisper against his mouth.
“Never,” he promises, his voice as firm as the stone around you.
With that, he steps inside, kicking the door closed behind him. No words are needed, only the warmth of his embrace as he carries you deeper into your shared sanctuary — a place where it’s just the two of you, far from the eyes of the world.
You sit comfortably on Daemon’s lap, his arms wrapped securely around you, holding you close. The cool breeze from the sea drifts in from the balcony, carrying the crisp scent of salt and the distant sound of waves crashing against the rocks of Dragonstone. The night sky is vast and endless, stars twinkling like tiny flames scattered across a sea of darkness. The pale glow of the moon bathes everything in silver light, casting a serene glow over the world around you.
Daemon’s hand moves slowly up and down your back, his touch firm yet gentle, like a constant reminder that he is there — steady, unyielding, and yours. His warmth seeps into you, chasing away any hint of chill the breeze may have brought. You sigh contentedly, letting yourself sink deeper into his embrace.
You feel him press a soft kiss to the crown of your head, his lips lingering just long enough for you to feel his breath against your hair. It’s a gesture so simple, yet it makes your heart feel fuller than you ever thought possible.
“Comfortable?” he asks softly, his voice low and rough from the stillness of the night.
“More than comfortable,” you murmur, your eyes fluttering shut as you lean your head against his chest. You can hear the slow, steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath you — a sound that has become more familiar and soothing than any song.
A hum of satisfaction rumbles in his chest, and then, without warning, he begins to hum a soft, low melody. It’s a tune you don’t recognize at first, slow and deep, like a lullaby that’s been forgotten by time. His voice, though unpolished, has a certain rough charm to it — raw and real. The sound vibrates through his chest, and you feel it resonate in your bones, warm and comforting.
You smile to yourself, your eyes still closed, letting the sound wash over you. It feels like the world outside has faded away, leaving only the two of you in this quiet, perfect moment. Your fingers trace lazy patterns on his tunic, your breathing slowing to match the gentle rise and fall of his chest.
“You’re humming,” you tease lightly, your voice barely above a whisper.
“Is that a problem, wife?” he replies, tilting his head slightly to glance down at you, a playful edge in his tone.
“Not at all,” you answer with a soft smile. “I like it. I think I could fall asleep like this.”
“Then sleep,” he says, his hand moving up to tangle gently in your hair, fingers combing through it with slow precision. “I’ll keep watch.”
And with that, he continues to hum, his voice low and steady, a melody meant only for you. The stars seem to flicker in time with his tune, and for the first time in a long while, you feel utterly and completely at peace.
No thrones. No expectations. No whispers from the court.
Just you, Daemon, and the quiet song of the night.
The soft glow of the morning sun filters through the heavy curtains, casting golden streaks of light across the stone floor and the plush blankets draped over you. Slowly, your eyes flutter open, and for a moment, you remain still, letting the warmth of the bed cocoon you in comfort. But something feels different.
You reach out to the space beside you, expecting to feel Daemon’s familiar warmth, only to be met with cool, empty sheets. Blinking away the last remnants of sleep, you sit up, your gaze falling on the small piece of parchment resting on his pillow.
Curiosity sparks in your chest as you reach for it. His handwriting is unmistakable — sharp, bold strokes with a slight flourish at the ends of his letters.
“You looked far too peaceful to disturb. I’ve gone to the training yard. I’ll return before midday. — D.”
A soft smile tugs at the corners of your lips, warmth blooming in your chest. Typical Daemon. No grand farewell, just a simple note left behind, thoughtful in his own way. Your fingers trace over the ink as if the gesture alone could bring him back to you.
You swing your legs over the edge of the bed, your bare feet touching the cold stone floor. The coolness sends a small shiver up your spine, urging you to stand and stretch. The quiet of the room is peaceful, broken only by the distant calls of seabirds outside and the faint rustle of the wind through the cracks of the stone walls.
With a soft sigh, you walk toward the washbasin, splashing cool water onto your face to chase away the last of your sleepiness. You glance at your reflection in the polished metal mirror. There’s a softness in your features that wasn’t there before — a glow, perhaps, born from the love you’ve found here.
After dressing in a simple yet elegant gown, you call for your handmaidens. They enter with quiet efficiency, brushing and braiding your hair with practiced hands. All the while, your mind drifts to Daemon. You wonder if he’s still at the training yard, swinging his sword with that sharp precision that always left you in awe.
Once you’re ready, you take one last glance at the note, your fingers brushing over it once more before tucking it into the drawer of your bedside table. It’s a small thing, but you want to keep it — a reminder of the quiet, thoughtful side of the man you call your husband.
With a final glance at the now-empty bed, you head for the door, ready to face the day. Your thoughts linger on the training yard, and you can’t help but wonder if perhaps you should pay him a visit. Seeing Daemon in his element, confident and in control, always had a way of making your heart race.
And maybe, just maybe, he’d be just as happy to see you there too.
You walk through the long, winding corridors of Dragonstone, your footsteps echoing softly against the cold stone floor. The air smells faintly of salt and ash, a scent you’ve come to associate with this ancient castle perched atop volcanic rock. Around you, servants bustle about, their arms full of linens, trays of food, or buckets of water. They nod respectfully as you pass, some offering small smiles. You acknowledge them with a nod, your thoughts focused on reaching Daemon.
As you descend the staircase leading to the training yard, a wave of dizziness suddenly washes over you. Your vision blurs at the edges, and your breath catches in your chest. You grip the stone wall for support, eyes closing as you take a deep breath. The world tilts ever so slightly, and for a moment, you feel the familiar tug of nausea rising in your throat.
Not now, you think to yourself, swallowing hard to push the feeling down. It’s nothing. Just a little fatigue.
You press a hand lightly against your stomach as you steady yourself. Perhaps you hadn’t eaten enough this morning, or maybe you were simply still recovering from the long nights spent with Daemon. The thought of it brings a faint flush to your cheeks, but you shake your head, determined not to let a little dizziness slow you down.
With measured breaths, you push yourself off the wall and continue walking. The fresh air of the courtyard is close now, and you tell yourself that the open sky will help. As you step outside, the cool sea breeze greets you, brushing against your skin and carrying with it the distant crash of waves against the cliffs. The sun feels warmer than usual, and you lift your face to it, letting the warmth ground you.
Ahead, you spot Daemon. His silver hair catches the sunlight like molten steel, and he moves with the grace of a dragon in flight. Every swing of his sword is precise, every movement calculated and efficient. His tunic clings to him, damp with sweat, and his eyes are focused, sharp as Valyrian steel. For a moment, you stand there, watching him with quiet admiration.
He must sense your gaze because he turns his head toward you, his eyes locking with yours. A grin spreads slowly across his face — that familiar, cocky smirk that he wears so well. He lowers his sword and walks toward you, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.
“Couldn’t stay away, could you?” he teases, his voice low and playful as he stops in front of you. His eyes scan your face, his grin softening into something more tender. “You look pale, sweet wife. Did you not sleep well?”
“I slept fine,” you reply, managing a small smile. “Just a little tired, that’s all.”
Daemon narrows his eyes, his gaze lingering on you with quiet concern. He raises a hand to your cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing your skin softly.
“You’re warmer than usual,” he says, his voice laced with suspicion. “Are you sure you’re not ill?”
“I’m sure,” you insist, placing your hand over his to reassure him. “I just need some air. Watching you swing that sword of yours seems like the perfect cure.”
He huffs a short laugh but doesn’t seem entirely convinced. “If you faint, I’m carrying you straight back to bed,” he warns, his tone only half-joking.
“Then I suppose I’ll just have to stay on my feet,” you reply with a playful tilt of your head.
He stares at you for a moment longer before letting out a sigh, pulling you closer so you can rest your head briefly on his chest. You can feel the steady thud of his heartbeat beneath the damp fabric of his tunic.
“Stubborn woman,” he mutters into your hair, but his arms tighten around you nonetheless. “At least stay in the shade if you’re going to watch.”
“Yes, husband,” you reply, a soft laugh escaping your lips.
You don’t tell him about the flicker of nausea or the way the world tilted for just a moment. It’s probably nothing, you tell yourself. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time you’d ignored something small, only for it to pass on its own.
But as you rest your head against Daemon’s chest, a quiet thought lingers in the back of your mind. What if it’s not nothing this time?
You keep your eyes on Daemon, watching his swift, controlled movements as he trains. Each swing of his sword is a show of precision and power, his muscles coiling and releasing with the grace of a predator. You smile faintly, feeling the warmth of pride in your chest. But then, it happens again.
A sudden, sharp wave of dizziness hits you harder this time. Your breath stutters, and the world around you tilts. Your heart races as your knees weaken beneath you. You blink rapidly, trying to clear your vision, but everything around you blurs into swirling shapes and shifting shadows.
Your hand instinctively reaches for the wall, but it isn’t close enough. Panic flickers in your chest. Not here. Not now. You hear the distant clang of steel hitting the ground, followed by the sound of rapid footsteps.
“Hey!” Daemon’s voice cuts through the haze, sharp with worry. “What’s wrong?!”
You try to answer, but your lips feel heavy, and your tongue won’t move. The pounding of your heart grows louder in your ears, drowning out the world around you. Your knees buckle, and you feel yourself falling. The ground rushes up to meet you, but before you hit it, strong arms catch you.
“Stay with me!” Daemon’s voice is closer now, urgent, commanding. His hands are firm as they hold you, cradling you against his chest. You feel the heat of his body, hear the rapid thudding of his heart. “Look at me, look at me, love.” His voice is strained, as though he’s fighting back fear.
But your eyelids feel so heavy. Your head tilts against his shoulder, and the world slips further away. His voice sounds far away now, as if he’s shouting from across the sea.
“Call the maester! NOW!” Daemon’s roar echoes through the courtyard. You think you hear the hurried footsteps of servants rushing to obey, but everything is growing quieter, darker.
“Please,” Daemon’s voice cracks, low and desperate. His hand presses against your cheek, his thumb stroking softly, as if willing you to stay awake. “Stay with me, don’t you dare leave me.”
But the pull of darkness is too strong. Your eyes close, and the world fades to nothing.
The world comes back slowly — sounds first, distant murmurs that sharpen into voices. You hear someone shouting, sharp and commanding, a tone you know well. Daemon.
“… If you missed something, I’ll have your head on a spike, Maester!” His voice is laced with barely contained fury, each word like the edge of a blade. “Check her again. Now.”
You blink slowly, your vision still hazy, but familiar shapes begin to take form. The ceiling of your chambers, the soft glow of firelight flickering from a hearth nearby. The scent of lavender and burning wood fills your nose. Your body feels heavy, but warmth surrounds you.
Your eyes shift, and there he is. Daemon stands by the foot of the bed, his eyes wild with barely restrained panic, his jaw set tight as he glares at the old maester hovering by your side. His silver hair is a mess, strands falling over his face, his tunic wrinkled as if he hadn’t cared to fix it. His hands are clenched into fists at his sides.
“Daemon,” you call his name softly, your voice barely above a whisper. But it’s enough.
His head snaps toward you so fast you’d think he’d heard a dragon’s roar. His eyes lock onto yours, and all the tension in his face breaks at once. His shoulders drop, and his eyes widen in disbelief. “You’re awake,” he breathes, rushing to your side. “Thank the gods.”
He drops to his knees beside you, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin with the gentleness of a man who thought he had almost lost something precious. His eyes search yours frantically, like he needs to see every part of you to believe you’re real.
“You scared me,” he mutters, his voice thick with emotion. “You terrified me.”
You smile weakly, leaning into his touch, letting the warmth of his hand ground you. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice hoarse. “I didn’t mean to cause a scene.”
“A scene?” he repeats, his eyes narrowing as he huffs a short, incredulous laugh. “You fainted in front of half the courtyard, and you think that’s a scene?” His eyes flicker with something deeper — fear, relief, and anger all tangled together. “You could’ve died.”
The maester, still cautious under Daemon’s watchful gaze, steps forward. “Her pulse is steady, my prince,” he says carefully, his hands raised as if to calm a dragon. “I believe it was exhaustion, perhaps a fever. But with your leave, I will check her once more.”
Daemon doesn’t move at first, his eyes locked on you as if afraid you’d disappear the moment he blinked. But when you nod, he releases a breath and shifts aside, still holding your hand.
The maester presses his hand against your forehead, checks your pulse, and hums thoughtfully. He glances at you, his brow raised with quiet curiosity. “My lady, have you felt any nausea as of late? Dizziness? Sensitivity to certain smells?”
Your eyes dart to Daemon, then back to the maester. The memory of the past few days flashes through your mind — the dizziness on the stairs, the waves of nausea you had brushed off, and the exhaustion that had clung to you like fog. Slowly, you nod.
“Yes,” you admit softly. “I thought it was nothing.”
The maester hums again, his expression shifting into something more knowing. He presses a hand lightly against your abdomen, glancing at you as he does so. “It may not be ‘nothing,’ my lady,” he says with a small smile. “In fact, it may be everything.”
You blink, confusion flashing across your face. But Daemon is quicker to understand. His eyes dart to your stomach, his lips parting as if he’s about to speak but finds himself momentarily speechless.
“You mean…” His voice trails off, his eyes narrowing at the maester. “Say it plainly, old man.”
The maester smiles as he steps back, folding his hands neatly in front of him. “It is still early, my prince, but I believe congratulations are in order. The lady may very well be with child.”
Silence fills the room, thick and heavy. Daemon stares at you, his eyes searching your face for any sign of doubt, as if needing to see your reaction before he believes it himself.
“With child,” you repeat, your hand slowly drifting to rest on your abdomen. The realization washes over you slowly, warmth spreading through your chest. Your heart beats faster, a mix of nerves and wonder swirling inside you. “I’m… with child.”
Daemon’s face shifts from disbelief to something you’ve never seen before — pure, unguarded joy. He lets out a breathless laugh, his eyes shining with something fierce and untamed. “With my child,” he says, his voice thick with pride and wonder.
He leans forward, resting his forehead against yours, his eyes closing as he breathes you in. “Our child,” he whispers, his voice trembling just enough for you to notice. “Our blood. Our legacy.”
You can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, his hands cradling your face like you’re the most precious thing in the world. His lips brush softly against yours, slow and deliberate, before he pulls back just enough to look at you again.
“You’re mine,” he says firmly, as if staking a claim. “You, and now this child, belong to me. No one will ever take you from me.”
His words should sound possessive, but you hear the love behind them — the desperation of a man who has lost too much and refuses to lose again. You nod, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.
“And you,” you whisper, your hand reaching up to cup his cheek. “You belong to me too, Daemon Targaryen.”
His grin is sharp and wild, full of pride and love. “Always, love. Always.”
You sit by the warm glow of the fireplace, the soft crackling of the flames filling the quiet chamber. Your hands rest gently on your rounded belly, your fingers tracing slow, soothing circles over the fabric of your gown. It’s been five months since you learned of your pregnancy, and though the changes to your body were gradual at first, there’s no hiding it now. Your belly is firm, round, and undeniable — the unmistakable mark of a child growing within you.
Daemon sits across from you, his eyes never straying far. He leans back in his chair, legs spread casually, one hand holding a cup of wine, the other lazily draped over the armrest. But his gaze is sharp, focused entirely on you. His eyes soften when they meet yours, a small, knowing smirk tugging at his lips.
“You’re staring,” you say, your voice carrying the light tease of familiarity.
He tilts his head, his smirk growing bolder. “How could I not?” he replies, his eyes flicking down to your belly. “You’re carrying the future of House Targaryen and House Tyrell in that little frame of yours. It’s quite the sight.”
You huff a laugh, brushing a hand over your stomach. “If it gets any bigger, I won’t be able to stand without help.”
Daemon raises a brow, his grin wicked. “Then I suppose I’ll have to carry you everywhere, won’t I?”
You shake your head, unable to stop the smile pulling at your lips. His confidence is relentless, but you know his words aren’t empty. He’d carry you across all of Westeros if you asked.
For a while, the two of you sit in comfortable silence. The fire casts dancing shadows on the stone walls, and you feel the gentle thrum of life within you — small movements, faint but unmistakable. You place a hand firmly over the spot and smile.
“Daemon,” you say softly, looking up at him. His gaze sharpens instantly, like he’s ready for anything. “It’s time, isn’t it? We should tell them.”
His eyes narrow slightly, as if weighing the idea. “You’re certain?” he asks, setting his wine aside and leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Once they know, the whispers will spread. Our child will be at the center of it all.”
“I know,” you reply, voice steady but firm. “But I don’t want to hide it anymore. This is our child, Daemon. They will have to accept it.”
Daemon studies you for a moment, his eyes flickering between pride and protectiveness. Then, slowly, he nods. “Very well,” he says, standing and walking over to you. His hand extends toward you, palm up. “Shall we make them bow to our legacy, my lady?”
You smile, placing your hand in his. He pulls you up gently, one arm curling protectively around your waist to steady you. “They will bow,” you reply, your voice filled with quiet determination. “They always do.”
You and Daemon prepare to leave Dragonstone and make your way back to the Red Keep. The journey ahead seems long, but your mind is focused on the upcoming announcement. You know that today, you will finally share the news of your pregnancy with the royal family and the court. It’s a moment you’ve been anticipating, though a part of you feels a bit nervous about the attention it will bring.
The pregnancy, however, hasn’t been easy. The baby seems incredibly active, a constant reminder of the life growing inside you. At night, when the world falls silent, the tiny kicks and movements keep you wide awake, and though the thought of carrying Daemon’s child fills you with love, the exhaustion from sleepless nights weighs heavily on you. You’ve grown accustomed to his reassuring presence, his hand resting on your stomach as he murmurs comforting words whenever the baby moves restlessly.
Daemon, always attentive, notices your fatigue as you pack. “Are you sure you’re alright?” he asks, concern flashing across his face. He steps closer, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his eyes softening. “You’ve barely slept these past nights.”
You smile up at him, grateful for his constant care. “I’m fine, just tired,” you reply, trying to mask the truth. “It’s just that our little one seems to be more active than expected.”
Daemon chuckles softly, his thumb gently stroking your hand. “A fighter, just like their father,” he says with a smirk. “They’ll be strong.”
Despite his teasing tone, you can see the pride in his eyes. He’s looking forward to being a father, though he won’t admit it outright. You’re sure that, deep down, he’s just as eager for the day when you can finally share this joy with the rest of the realm.
As you prepare to leave, Daemon’s hand finds its place on the small of your back, guiding you through the halls of Dragonstone. His presence is a constant comfort, a solid anchor that helps you feel steady despite the whirlwind of emotions and changes that come with your pregnancy.
“Let’s get to the Red Keep,” Daemon says, his voice a soft command. “It’s time.”
You nod, though your mind is full of thoughts and worries about what awaits you. But for now, all you need is Daemon by your side—just as he always has been. Together, you make your way to the waiting ship, and as you board, you take one last look at the land you’ve called home for so long before turning your gaze ahead, to the future that awaits you both in King’s Landing.
The journey by ship proves to be much more difficult than you anticipated, especially while pregnant. Despite the fact that it’s a relatively short trip, the constant rocking of the boat leaves you feeling nauseous and exhausted. The salty air, though refreshing for most, seems to exacerbate your discomfort, and you clutch the railing tightly as a wave of dizziness washes over you.
Daemon, noticing your discomfort, approaches quickly, his face filled with concern. “You should rest,” he insists softly, his hand on your back as he guides you to a seat. “The sea isn’t kind to those with child.”
You give him a tired smile, trying to brush off your unease. “I’m fine, Daemon. Just a bit of nausea. It’ll pass.”
But Daemon isn’t convinced. He kneels before you, his eyes scanning your face as if searching for any sign of further distress. “You’ve been pushing yourself too hard. Let me help.”
He places a gentle hand on your stomach, his touch grounding you as he speaks with a soft authority, “Rest, my love. I’ll be here.”
Reluctantly, you lean back against the cushioned seat, allowing yourself to close your eyes and rest. Daemon remains close by, his presence a source of comfort. Though the rocking of the ship doesn’t stop, his soothing words and touch help ease the discomfort. You focus on his steady presence, allowing the steady rhythm of his voice to lull you into a moment of calm.
Time seems to blur as the journey continues, but you’re grateful that Daemon is there, taking care of you. His concern is unwavering, and even though he can’t control the sea, you know he will always do his best to protect you and your child.
After a while, the worst of the nausea passes, and you feel able to sit up again. The horizon begins to show signs of King’s Landing in the distance, and though the trip wasn’t the easiest, the thought of being close to your destination gives you a sense of relief.
“We’re almost there,” Daemon says, his hand gently resting over yours.
You nod, still a bit fatigued but glad to be nearing the end of this journey. “I just hope I can make it through the announcement without embarrassing myself,” you say with a light laugh, trying to push aside the lingering discomfort.
Daemon chuckles, his gaze softening as he looks at you. “You’ll do just fine,” he reassures you. “And I’ll be right by your side.”
As the carriage rolls through the familiar streets of King’s Landing, you feel a sense of anticipation building within you. The city is bustling with activity, and though you are returning to a place filled with memories, this time everything feels different. You are not just returning as a member of the family—you’re a wife, carrying Daemon’s child.
Daemon’s hand never leaves yours, his fingers gently gripping yours as if to reassure both you and himself. He occasionally rests his other hand on your growing belly, his touch warm and comforting. Each gentle caress brings you a sense of peace, easing the lingering discomfort from the journey.
You glance at him, a soft smile on your face, and he looks down at you with an expression of quiet affection. His eyes are filled with a rare tenderness as he watches over you, his usual confident demeanor softened by the love he has for you and your unborn child.
“How are you feeling?” he asks quietly, his voice laced with concern. Though he’s done his best to shield you from any discomfort, you can see the worry in his gaze.
“I’m alright,” you reply with a reassuring smile, “just a bit tired. But I’m happy we’re finally here.”
Daemon gives you a small nod, but his gaze lingers on your face, his thumb brushing along the curve of your belly. “I will make sure everything goes smoothly,” he promises. “You don’t need to worry about anything.
The carriage jolts slightly as it turns toward the Red Keep, and you feel a sudden wave of nerves. The announcement of your pregnancy is fast approaching, and you know that soon, all eyes will be on you. Daemon notices your subtle shift in mood and squeezes your hand gently.
“Whatever happens,” he says, his voice steady and reassuring, “we will face it together.”
You smile at him, grateful for his strength and presence. As the Red Keep looms closer, you feel ready. With Daemon by your side, you know you can face anything the future holds.
You’re taken by surprise as the carriage comes to a halt. Before you can even step down, Daemon swoops you into his arms, lifting you effortlessly. The sudden movement startles you, and you instinctively swat at his shoulder in protest.
“Daemon!” you exclaim, though there’s a mix of laughter and disbelief in your voice. “What are you doing? I can walk on my own!”
But Daemon, with that familiar mischievous smile, simply tightens his hold on you. “You’ve had a long journey. The least I can do is carry you to the Red Keep.” His tone is teasing, but there’s an underlying tenderness in his words. He doesn’t wait for any further protest before he addresses a nearby guard.
“Go,” he commands, “gather my father and my grandfather in the throne room. It’s time.”
The guard nods quickly and hurries off to fulfill the order. Daemon doesn’t hesitate as he continues carrying you towards the entrance of the Red Keep. You can feel the eyes of the castle’s residents on you, some surprised, others whispering, but Daemon pays them no mind. His focus is entirely on you, and you can’t help but smile at the attention, even though you’re still a little flustered by his boldness.
“Daemon, seriously,” you say, laughing as you rest your head against his chest. “I can walk. You don’t have to carry me like this.”
But Daemon only chuckles softly, the sound rich with affection. “You’re carrying my child. The least I can do is make sure you’re comfortable, even if it means looking like a fool in front of everyone.”
You shake your head at his words, but there’s a warmth in your heart that spreads every time he speaks like this. His care for you—and for your child—shines through in everything he does.
As you reach the throne room, Daemon gently places you down, and you both enter, ready to make the announcement you’ve been anticipating. The weight of the moment lingers in the air as the doors close behind you.
When you finally enter the throne room, the air shifts. The room is filled with the sound of conversation, clinking cups, and footsteps echoing on stone. King Jaehaerys sits on the Iron Throne, his wise, tired eyes watching all who enter. Prince Baelon stands nearby, deep in conversation with the Hand of the King — Otto Hightower.
The moment you and Daemon cross the threshold, silence falls. All eyes turn to you.
Daemon’s arm tightens around you as he leads you forward, his steps slow and deliberate, every movement calculated for effect. You lift your chin, refusing to shrink under the weight of their gazes. Every eye is on you, and you meet them all without hesitation.
“Father,” Daemon says as he stops before the king, his voice clear and commanding. “Grandfather.” He looks to Jaehaerys, his tone carrying the weight of unspoken meaning.
The king leans forward, his brows lifting with curiosity. “Daemon,” he says, his voice slow but firm. “What is this interruption? What do you wish to declare before the court?”
Daemon looks at you then — only you. His eyes soften, and the barest smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. Turning back to face the king, he says loud enough for all to hear:
“We come with news of House Targaryen’s future. My wife,” he says, tilting his head toward you, “is with child.”
A ripple of gasps echoes through the hall, followed by murmurs that spread like wildfire. Your hand rests on your belly, your gaze steady, unyielding as you watch their faces shift from shock to recognition.
King Jaehaerys’s brows rise high, surprise flashing across his face. His eyes flick to your belly, then to Daemon, and finally back to you. Slowly, a smile begins to spread across his face. “A child,” he repeats, his voice growing louder as he leans back into the Iron Throne. “A child of fire and rose petals.” He laughs, a deep, hearty sound. “You have done well, Daemon. And you, my dear, you have done better.”
Baelon grins broadly, stepping forward with a clap of his hands. “A new dragon is always cause for celebration,” he declares, looking between you and Daemon. “The gods have blessed you both.”
But not everyone is smiling.
Otto Hightower’s face remains stone-cold, his sharp eyes flicking between Daemon and you. His fingers tap lightly against his sleeve, his mind clearly working through the implications. He does not congratulate you, but he does not dare speak out either — not here, not now.
As you and Daemon walk toward your old chambers, there’s a comforting quiet between you two. The weight of the announcement has settled, and now, you can feel the moment becoming more intimate, more personal. Daemon helps you sit by the fireplace, his strong presence beside you grounding you in a way only he can.
He watches you carefully, his eyes soft with concern and affection. The crackling of the fire fills the silence for a moment before Daemon speaks, his voice low and steady.
“I will not leave you for a single moment,” he says, his words filled with such intensity that they seem to echo in the room. “Not now, not ever. You’re carrying our child, and I will be here, by your side, through everything.”
You smile gently, touched by his promise. The weight of the world feels lighter when he’s with you, and the thought of raising a child together fills you with warmth. Daemon’s devotion is clear in his words and actions, and you feel a deep sense of peace knowing that, no matter what the future holds, you won’t have to face it alone.
Daemon reaches for your hand, gently intertwining his fingers with yours. “I will protect you, and I will protect our child. You have my word,” he adds, his voice filled with unwavering certainty.
You look into his eyes, and in that moment, you know that you are exactly where you’re meant to be. No matter what challenges come your way, Daemon will be by your side, just as he promised. The love between you both is unwavering, and with that love, you feel ready to face whatever comes next.
You and Daemon turn to see the door open, revealing Prince Viserys, Princess Aemma, and their daughter, Princess Rhaenyra, who is just 10 months old. The warmth in their eyes is immediate, and you can see the genuine joy as they come forward to congratulate you. Aemma, in particular, seems taken aback when she sees how much your belly has grown.
“Oh, my dear,” she exclaims, her eyes widening. “You’re quite large already! How many months along are you?” She smiles gently as she steps closer, her hand instinctively resting on her own belly. “You may be carrying twins, perhaps?”
Daemon chuckles softly, his hand tightening around yours. He shoots Aemma a playful look, but there’s also a hint of pride in his gaze.
“I don’t think it’s twins, but she certainly makes the pregnancy look easy, doesn’t she?” he responds with a lighthearted grin, though there’s tenderness behind his words as he watches you.
You smile, feeling the love and excitement in the room. Aemma’s question is followed by Rhaenyra, who babbles softly in her mother’s arms, her curious eyes shifting toward you and the growing bump.
Viserys, ever the wise and gentle prince, smiles warmly as he steps forward to offer his congratulations as well. “Congratulations, my dear,” he says, his voice filled with fatherly affection. “It is a joyous occasion for our family, and we are thrilled for you both.”
Daemon gives you a reassuring smile as he squeezes your hand, standing proudly beside you as your family surrounds you with love. The room is filled with joy, and for a moment, it feels like everything is in its right place, the world ahead of you brighter with each passing moment.
After the departure of Aemma and Viserys, you find yourself lost in thought, reflecting on Aemma’s earlier comment about carrying twins. You couldn’t help but wonder if she might be right. The thought lingers in your mind, and the curiosity grows.
You turn to Daemon, who has been beside you, supportive as always, and ask, “Daemon, could you please have the maester check on me? I keep thinking about what Aemma said… could I really be carrying twins?”
Daemon looks at you with concern, but his eyes soften with understanding. “Of course, my love,” he says, his voice gentle but steady. “I’ll send for him right away.”
Not long after, the maester arrives and begins his examination. You hold your breath, waiting for his verdict. After a few moments, he looks up from his work, a slight smile on his face.
“It appears that you are indeed carrying twins, my lady,” he confirms. “Your body is showing signs of it, and the examination has revealed two heartbeats.”
Daemon’s eyes widen in surprise, but there’s an undeniable spark of joy in his gaze as he turns to you. His hand instinctively reaches out to yours, his grip firm, yet tender. “Twins,” he repeats softly, a proud smile tugging at his lips. “Our family will grow even stronger.”
You can’t help but smile at the news, the thought of two little lives growing inside you filling you with a sense of awe and excitement. “Twins…” you whisper, feeling the weight of the news settling in your heart. “It’s going to be quite the journey.”
Daemon nods, his expression one of complete devotion. “Whatever it takes, we will face it together,” he says, his voice firm and full of love. “And our children will be loved beyond measure.”You and Daemon walk hand in hand through the grand corridors of the Red Keep, the soft glow of torches lighting your path. Your heart feels lighter knowing that tonight is a celebration, not just for your safe return but for the lives growing within you. Daemon’s thumb gently rubs the back of your hand, a silent gesture of reassurance and love.
When you reach the King’s private solar, the guards open the doors, revealing a warm, lively scene. The King, Prince Baelon, Princess Aemma, and a few members of the royal family are already seated, their conversation filled with light laughter and the clinking of wine cups. The air smells of roasted meat, sweet honeyed bread, and spices from across the Narrow Sea.
“Ah, there they are!” King Jaehaerys says with a smile, gesturing for you to enter. “Come, sit. We were just speaking of Dragonstone and its rough seas.”
Daemon leads you to your seat, pulling out a chair beside Princess Aemma. She smiles warmly at you, her eyes glancing down at your growing belly. “You look radiant,” she says with a soft voice, leaning in to whisper, “Motherhood suits you already.”
“Thank you, Aemma,” you reply, your cheeks warming at her kind words. You glance at Daemon, who sits beside you, his eyes scanning the room.
Once everyone is seated and the servants have poured wine and served food, Daemon stands, raising his cup with a sharp grin on his face. His gaze shifts from the King to his father, Prince Baelon, before settling on you. His voice cuts through the air with ease, commanding the attention of everyone in the room.
“I have news to share,” he declares, glancing down at you with a soft smile before turning back to the others. “Not only have we returned safely from Dragonstone, but my wife carries not one, but two heirs of House Targaryen and House Tyrell within her.”
The room falls silent for a moment, then erupts into cheers and applause. King Jaehaerys laughs heartily, his voice echoing through the solar. “Twins! The gods have truly blessed you both.” He raises his cup higher. “To the future of House Targaryen and House Tyrell!”
“To the future!” the others echo, their cups raised in unison.
Aemma turns to you with wide eyes, her face a mixture of surprise and excitement. “Twins? No wonder you look as you do,” she says, glancing at your belly with newfound understanding. “I knew it the moment I saw you. You’re carrying them well, truly.”
“Thank you, Aemma,” you say with a smile, resting a hand on your belly. “They’ve been restless, but I can feel their strength. I suppose it runs in their blood.”
Daemon sits beside you again, his hand resting protectively on your lower back. He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “They’ll be strong, like their mother.”
Your heart swells at his words, and as you look around the table filled with smiling faces, you realize that this moment will stay with you forever. The joy of family, the promise of new life, and the unwavering love of your husband — it all fills the room with a warmth greater than any fire.
The moment feels surreal, but there is a deep sense of happiness in the air, and you both know that your lives have just become even more intertwined, not just as husband and wife, but as parents preparing to welcome two new souls into the world.
As you and Daemon sit at the table, the warmth of the fire and the clinking of cups around you create a cozy, intimate atmosphere. Laughter echoes from the king and Baelon as they recall old stories, but your attention is solely on Daemon. His gaze is fixed on you, his lips curled into a sly smile.
“I should have known you were with child the moment Caraxes coiled himself around you,” Daemon says, his eyes glinting with amusement. He leans back in his chair, one arm draped lazily over the back of your seat, his fingers lightly playing with a loose strand of your hair. “That beast never lets anyone near him unless I command it, but with you… he acted as if you were his hatchling.”
You laugh softly, remembering that moment. “I thought he was going to eat me,” you admit, shaking your head with a fond smile. “But then he lowered his head and nudged me like I was one of his own. I suppose he knew before any of us did.”
“Dragons always know,” Prince Baelon adds, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “They sense life in ways men cannot. It is why they bond so deeply with their riders.” He raises his cup to you both. “If Caraxes sees fit to protect you, then there is no safer place in the world than by your husband’s side.”
Daemon tilts his head, his grin growing wider. “Safer, perhaps, but not quieter. The twins have made sure of that,” he teases, glancing at your belly. “They’ve been keeping her awake every night with their little war games in there.”
“Already battling for dominance, are they?” Aemma chuckles, resting her chin on her hand. “They’ll make fine Targaryens, then.”
“Or Tyrells,” you add with a playful raise of your brow, earning a round of laughter from the table.
Daemon looks down at you, his gaze softening. His fingers trail from your hair to your shoulder, his touch gentle but firm. “They’ll be the best of both,” he says quietly, his voice filled with certainty.
You lean into his side, letting his warmth seep into you. As the conversation flows back into tales of Dragonstone’s storms and your quiet days by the sea, you feel a sense of peace settle over you. These moments — the love of family, the bond you share with Daemon, and the promise of new life — are treasures you will protect fiercely, just as Caraxes had protected you.
You and Daemon asked permission to go to your rooms first, Daemon said that you needed to rest after the journey you took from Dragonstone to here. As you and Daemon walk hand in hand through the dimly lit corridors of the Red Keep, the cool night air drifts in from the open windows. The faint glow of torches flickers against the stone walls, casting long shadows that dance with each step. The gentle breeze carries the fresh scent of the sea, a reminder of your recent journey from Dragonstone.
Daemon’s thumb brushes over the back of your hand, his grip firm but tender. He glances at you, his eyes filled with quiet concern. “Are you tired, my love?” he asks, his voice low and warm, as if he’s afraid to disturb the peace of the night.
“A little,” you admit, resting your head lightly on his shoulder as you walk. “But it feels good to be home.”
He hums in agreement, his gaze fixed ahead, but you catch the slight tug of a smile on his lips. “If I had my way, you wouldn’t have had to sit through all those pleasantries tonight,” he says with a hint of frustration. “The king could have celebrated without us. Your rest is far more important.”
You chuckle softly, tilting your head up to look at him. “You know we couldn’t refuse. Besides, the king was happy to see us.”
Daemon lets out a small, reluctant sigh but doesn’t argue. His free hand moves to your lower back, steadying you as you walk. “I suppose,” he mutters, glancing down at your growing belly. “But from now on, you’ll rest when you need to. No one will dare object, not even the king himself.”
You roll your eyes at his protectiveness but feel a warmth bloom in your chest. He has been more attentive than ever since learning you were carrying twins. No request, no matter how small, was ignored.
As you approach the door to your shared chambers, two guards stationed at the entrance bow their heads respectfully before pushing open the heavy wooden doors. The room is dimly lit with the soft glow of a hearth fire, its warmth chasing away the chill of the evening air.
Daemon steps inside first, his eyes scanning the room before turning back to you. His hands find your waist, steadying you as you step in. “Straight to bed,” he orders softly, his lips quirking into a teasing smile. “No arguments.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you reply, your voice laced with playful defiance.
He raises a brow, his eyes narrowing with mock suspicion. “Hmm, I’ll hold you to that.”
With careful precision, he helps you to sit on the edge of the bed, kneeling before you to remove your shoes himself. His touch is gentle, his fingers lingering on your ankles a moment longer than necessary. When he looks up at you, there’s a softness in his gaze that makes your heart ache with love.
“You’ve done enough for one day,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb along your knee. “Let me take care of you now.”
You smile down at him, your fingers threading through his silver hair. “You already do, Daemon. Every day.”
He tilts his head into your touch, eyes closing briefly as if savoring the moment. Then, with one smooth movement, he stands and helps you further onto the bed, pulling the covers over you. He joins you a moment later, his arms wrapping around you from behind, his breath warm against the back of your neck.
“You and the twins,” he whispers, his voice laced with affection. “My whole world."
You sigh contentedly, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back. The warmth of his embrace, the soft crackle of the fire, and the steady beat of his heart lull you into peace. Here, in this moment, with Daemon’s arms around you, the weight of the world feels a little lighter.
Time seems to pass in the blink of an eye. Your belly, once a subtle swell, has now grown large and heavy with the weight of the twins you carry. Every movement feels like a challenge, and walking even a few paces leaves you breathless. Daemon, ever the protective husband, has declared that you are to remain in your chambers at all times. No council meetings, no strolls through the gardens — not even a visit to the balcony without him at your side.
Your mother has recently arrived from Highgarden, her presence as comforting as the scent of fresh blooms in spring. She sits beside you now, her hands expertly braiding your hair as she did when you were a child. Her touch is gentle, but her voice carries its usual firmness.
“You mustn’t push yourself, dear,” she says, her gaze focused on her work. “Carrying one child is hard enough, but two? You need all the strength you can gather for what lies ahead.”
You nod, resting your hands on the curve of your belly, feeling the subtle shifts and kicks of your unborn children. “I know, Mother. But I feel so restless. Being confined to one room all day is maddening.”
She hums in sympathy, securing the braid with a small ribbon. “I know it is. I was much the same when I carried you and your brother. But trust me, you’ll be grateful for every moment of rest when the babes arrive. They will demand more of you than any lord or lady ever could.”
Her words make you smile despite yourself. “I can handle it. I have Daemon, and now I have you.”
Your mother leans forward, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Yes, you do. And you are stronger than you think, my sweet girl.”
Just then, the door creaks open, and you glance up to see Daemon entering the room. His armor is gone, replaced with a simple black tunic, his hair slightly damp from a recent wash. His eyes scan the room, and when he sees you sitting comfortably with your mother, his shoulders relax.
“How are my three loves?” he asks, crossing the room in a few long strides. He kneels before you, his hands settling on your belly, his palms warm and grounding. His eyes flicker to your mother, and he offers her a polite nod. “Lady Tyrell.”
“Prince Daemon,” she replies with a small smile. “Your wife is growing restless, as expected.”
Daemon smirks, his gaze locking with yours. “Is that so? I warned you, didn’t I? No wandering about, no sneaking off to see the training yard.”
You roll your eyes but can’t hide your grin. “I haven’t stepped a foot outside this room, husband. Not even to the balcony.”
“Good,” he says, his hands tracing gentle circles over your belly. “Our little warriors have been making trouble, I see.” His eyes soften as he feels a strong kick against his palm. “Eager to meet their father, are they?”
You watch him with quiet affection. It’s moments like this, when Daemon’s sharp edges soften with love, that you feel most at peace. Your mother watches the two of you with a knowing smile before rising from her chair.
“I’ll leave you two for now,” she says, smoothing the front of her dress. “But call for me if you need anything, darling.”
“Thank you, Mother,” you say as she departs, leaving only you and Daemon in the quiet glow of the room.
Daemon shifts, sitting beside you on the bed, his arm slipping around your shoulders to pull you against him. You rest your head on his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. His other hand stays on your belly, feeling every small movement of your children.
“Are you afraid?” he asks softly, his voice a rare whisper.
You think for a moment, then shake your head. “Not afraid. Just… uncertain. I’ve never done this before, and there are two of them.”
He presses a kiss to the crown of your head. “You’re the strongest woman I know. Stronger than any knight with a sword.” His hand tilts your chin up so he can look into your eyes, his gaze unwavering. “You’ll bring them into this world, and I’ll be right here. Every moment. Every breath.”
Tears sting your eyes, but you blink them away, letting out a soft laugh. “If you cry when they’re born, I’ll never let you forget it.”
Daemon grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “If they have your eyes, I just might.”
You both fall into a comfortable silence, the warmth of his embrace lulling you into calm. The weight of the world outside the room melts away. Here, with Daemon’s steady presence and the promise of your mother’s support, you feel ready to face anything.
Even the challenge of bringing two little dragons into the world.
The next morning, boredom settles over you like an unwelcome guest. The same four walls, the same view from the window, and the same well-meaning advice to “rest” have begun to wear on your patience. You glance toward the door, a spark of defiance flickering in your heart.
“I just want some fresh air,” you mutter to yourself, running your hand over the curve of your belly. The weight is undeniable, every step a little heavier than the last, but you refuse to let it stop you.
With the help of your ever-dutiful maids, you rise slowly from the cushioned chair, your body protesting with every shift of weight. One of the maids, a kind girl with gentle hands, offers her arm for support. “My lady, should I inform the prince of your walk?”
You shake your head. “If Daemon finds out, he’ll lock me in this room himself.” Your tone is light, but you know it isn’t far from the truth.
The maid hesitates but nods, her grip on your arm steady as you take your first steps. Each movement is slow, deliberate. The hallways of the Red Keep seem to stretch endlessly before you, but for the first time in weeks, you feel a sense of freedom.
Servants pause as you pass, their eyes wide with surprise. Some bow their heads respectfully, while others glance at one another as if silently debating whether to alert Prince Daemon. You ignore them all, your gaze focused forward, step after step.
The cool stone beneath your feet and the faint draft of air are small reminders that you are not a prisoner, no matter how much Daemon worries for you. You walk further, passing familiar banners and tapestries, the clang of distant swords from the training yard faint but comforting.
“She shouldn’t be out here,” you hear a voice whisper behind you. “She’s due any day now.”
You don’t look back, only lifting your head a little higher. Let them whisper, you think. I am no fragile flower.
As you reach a balcony overlooking the training yard, you pause, leaning against the stone railing. Below, you spot Daemon, his silver hair catching the sun like polished steel. He’s sparring with Ser Lorence Roxton, their movements sharp and powerful. Each swing of Daemon’s sword is as precise as it is forceful, a dance of deadly grace.
Your heart swells with pride as you watch him. He moves as if the weight of the world is nothing to him — unlike you, burdened with the weight of two small lives within you. Yet somehow, watching him move with such confidence gives you strength.
He doesn’t see you at first, too focused on his opponent. But then, as if sensing your presence, his head turns sharply in your direction. His eyes narrow.
“Seven hells,” you hear him mutter before he throws his sword to the ground and storms toward the stairs leading up to you.
Your maids glance at each other nervously. “Should we—”
“Stay where you are,” you say calmly, folding your hands atop your belly.
Moments later, Daemon appears before you, his chest heaving from exertion, a light sheen of sweat on his brow. His gaze shifts from your face to your belly, then back to your face, his jaw set in a hard line.
“You were supposed to be resting,” he says, his voice low but firm.
“And I’ve been doing that for weeks,” you reply with equal firmness. “I needed to walk, Daemon. I’m not made of porcelain.”
He steps closer, his hand cupping the side of your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek with surprising gentleness. “You’re carrying my children,” he says, his voice softer now, though still edged with worry. “You’re more precious than Valyrian steel, and twice as fragile right now.”
You raise a brow at him. “Then perhaps you should forge me into a sword, husband. I’m no frail thing to be locked away.”
Daemon stares at you for a moment before letting out a low, amused chuckle. His hand moves to your belly, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles. The babies respond with a sudden kick, and he blinks in surprise.
“That one’s a fighter,” he says with a grin.
“Like their father,” you reply, your eyes softening.
He sighs, pressing his forehead lightly against yours. “Fine,” he relents. “But if you feel even the slightest pain, you call for me.”
“Always,” you promise.
Daemon’s arm snakes around your back, and he guides you slowly back toward your chambers. No matter how independent you try to be, you lean into him, letting him bear some of the weight. Just this once.
As you two walk slowly through the familiar halls of the Red Keep, your hand resting lightly on Daemon’s arm, you can’t help but voice your frustration.
“I’ve been cooped up in that chamber for far too long, Daemon,” you huff, your tone carrying a hint of playful defiance. “Is it really so dangerous for me to breathe fresh air and feel the sun on my face?”
Daemon arches a brow, his lips twitching as if fighting back a smile. “The sun will still be there tomorrow, wife. You, however, are one slip away from being carried back to that chamber in my arms.”
You scoff, rolling your eyes. “You already carry me enough as it is. Let me walk.”
His grip tightens protectively on your waist, and just as you prepare to argue further, your attention is drawn to the sound of laughter. A soft, innocent giggle followed by the familiar voice of Aemma.
Turning your head, you spot her in the lush green garden just beyond the archway, sitting on a blanket with little Rhaenyra crawling excitedly toward a cluster of flowers. Her chubby hands reach for them, and she squeals with delight when she manages to grab a soft pink petal. Aemma’s face lights up with joy as she guides Rhaenyra gently, careful not to let her crush the delicate blooms.
Your heart warms at the sight, and you slow your steps. You glance up at Daemon with wide, pleading eyes, tugging lightly at his sleeve.
“Please, Daemon,” you whisper, tilting your head like a cat asking for affection. “Let me stay with them, just for a little while.”
Daemon follows your gaze toward Aemma and Rhaenyra. For a moment, he says nothing, his lips pressed into a line as he considers. His eyes flicker back to you, filled with hesitation.
“You’ll sit,” he says at last, his voice firm but not unkind. “No standing, no walking about. If I see you on your feet for more than a moment, I’ll carry you back myself.”
You nod quickly, a grin spreading across your face. “Deal.”
Daemon sighs in defeat, clearly unable to deny you anything. He leads you toward the garden with slow, careful steps. Aemma notices you approaching and waves cheerfully, her face bright with warmth.
“Look who’s come to join us,” she says with a smile. “I thought you’d be resting.”
“I’ve rested more than enough for one lifetime,” you reply as you lower yourself carefully onto the soft blanket with Daemon’s help. Once seated, you let out a contented sigh, leaning back against a plush cushion one of the maids swiftly provides. “I saw you both and couldn’t resist.”
Rhaenyra, curious as ever, turns her wide violet eyes toward you. Her gaze lands on your belly, and she crawls over with surprising speed. Her tiny hands press curiously against your swollen stomach.
“Ba,” she babbles, tilting her head as if trying to understand. She pats your belly again with more determination, her face scrunched up in concentration.
“She knows there’s someone in there,” Aemma says with a soft laugh, leaning forward to adjust Rhaenyra’s hair. “Or two, in your case.”
You glance at Aemma and smile knowingly, placing your hand over Rhaenyra’s. The baby stares at the motion, eyes wide with wonder. Then, as if on cue, one of the twins in your belly gives a strong, sudden kick right where Rhaenyra’s hand rests.
The little girl gasps, pulling her hand back in shock before letting out a delighted giggle. She claps her hands together and points to your belly. “Ba! Ba!”
Aemma laughs, her eyes crinkling with joy. “She thinks they’re playing with her.”
“Perhaps they are,” you muse, rubbing gentle circles over the spot where the kick came from. “These two are as mischievous as their father.”
Daemon snorts, sitting on the edge of the blanket. “They’ll be clever, not mischievous,” he corrects, though there’s a hint of pride in his voice. His eyes flicker to your belly, his hand briefly resting atop it. “They already know how to get attention, after all.”
“Like their father,” Aemma teases, her gaze flicking to Daemon with playful mischief.
Daemon raises a brow at her but says nothing, his smirk betraying his amusement.
The four of you sit together in peaceful silence for a while, the only sounds being the rustle of leaves and the sweet babbling of little Rhaenyra as she explores the flowers around her. Your eyes drift closed, the warmth of the sun on your skin lulling you into a calm, dreamlike state.
“Are you tired?” Daemon’s voice is close to your ear, soft but attentive.
You hum in response, your head leaning against his shoulder. “Not tired. Just… content.”
He wraps an arm around you, his fingers trailing lightly along your back in slow, soothing patterns. “Good,” he murmurs. “Then stay like this for a while. The world can wait.”
And for now, you believe him.
You tilt your head back to meet Daemon’s gaze, giving him a soft, reassuring smile. His eyes narrow with suspicion, his lips pressed into a firm line.
“I’m not a prisoner, Daemon,” you say lightly, resting a hand on his arm. “Go back to your training. I’ll stay right here, I promise.”
He arches a brow, clearly unconvinced. “You’ll stay seated?”
“Yes, I’ll stay seated,” you reply, your tone sweet but firm. “I won’t stand, I won’t walk, and if I need anything, I’ll have the maids or guards fetch you.” You gesture to the maids and guards stationed nearby as proof. “See? Plenty of eyes on me. I’m perfectly safe.”
Daemon stares at you for a long moment, his violet eyes scanning your face as if searching for any sign of deceit. You stare back with innocent determination, unyielding.
Finally, he sighs heavily, running a hand down his face. “You’re too stubborn for your own good.”
“And you love me for it,” you counter with a grin, earning a short, breathy laugh from him.
“I do,” he admits, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. His lips linger there for a moment longer than usual, warm and soft against your skin. “But if I see you on your feet, I won’t hesitate to carry you back inside.”
You wave him off, feigning exasperation. “Yes, yes, my fearsome husband, everyone has heard your threats. Now, go.”
Daemon snorts but stands, giving you one last look — a warning glance that says, Don’t test me — before turning on his heel and striding back toward the training grounds. His silver hair catches the light of the sun, and you watch him until he disappears from view.
Satisfied, you lean back against the cushion behind you, letting out a soft sigh of relief. Your hand comes to rest on your belly, your fingers tracing small circles over the taut skin. You can already feel one of the twins stirring inside, pressing against you with a gentle but firm push.
“Yes, little one,” you murmur quietly, gazing down at your belly with a soft smile. “He’s always like that. But he means well.”
One of the maids approaches, holding a cool drink in her hands. She kneels beside you, offering it with a polite bow.
“Shall I call for the prince if you need anything, my lady?” she asks, glancing toward the direction where Daemon disappeared.
“No need,” you reply, taking the cup and sipping slowly. “He’s watching even when he’s not here.”
The maid smiles knowingly, stepping aside to give you privacy.
You recline comfortably, feeling the warmth of the sun, the steady flutter of life within you, and the distant sounds of swords clashing on the training grounds. Even though Daemon has gone back to his duties, you feel his presence as if he’s still right there beside you.
You squirmed slowly in your seat, the pain and discomfort returning. You slowly rubbed your stomach and controlled your breathing. Aemma’s expression shifts instantly from serene to serious, her brows knitting in concern.
"Do you feel uncomfortable ot pain?" you nodded and smiled. "Since earlier, maybe because I was walking to the training yard."
She turns to face you fully, her eyes scanning you carefully. “Since earlier?” she asks, her tone gentle but firm. “Where exactly is the pain? Is it sharp or dull? Does it come and go?”
You take a slow breath, pressing a hand against your swollen belly. “It’s more like a tightening,” you admit. “At first, I thought it was just the babies shifting, but it’s been happening more often. It comes, stays for a moment, and then fades.”
Aemma’s eyes widen slightly, and she sits up straighter, her gaze sharp with experience. “Those sound like contractions,” she says, voice calm but with an underlying urgency. “Did your back start aching too?”
You nod slowly, realization dawning on you. “Yes… I thought it was just from walking too much.”
Aemma reaches for your hand, squeezing it firmly. “That’s how it starts,” she says, her voice gentle but commanding. “We need to get you back to your chambers now. It could be nothing, but if it’s something, you don’t want to be far from the maester.” She glances over her shoulder, waving toward one of the guards nearby. “Fetch the maester and tell Prince Daemon his wife needs him. Now.”
The guard bows quickly and rushes off. You can hear the urgency in his footsteps, and it only makes your heart race faster. You grip Aemma’s hand tightly, your breathing shallow.
“It’s too early, isn’t it?” you whisper, a hint of fear creeping into your voice. “They’re not supposed to come for a few more weeks.”
Aemma squeezes your hand again, her eyes meeting yours with a steady, reassuring gaze. “Sometimes babies have their own plans,” she says softly. “But listen to me — you are strong, stronger than you know. You’ll be fine, and so will they.” She places a hand on your belly, her fingers gentle but firm. “Breathe with me, slowly, in and out. We’ll get you back to your chambers.”
Her words steady you, and you nod, exhaling slowly as she helps you stand. Your legs feel unsteady, but Aemma is right there, her arm around you for support. Two more guards approach to help, one on each side.
The tightening in your belly comes again, sharper this time, and you gasp, clutching at Aemma’s arm. “It hurts,” you mutter through gritted teeth, leaning forward slightly as the pain grips you.
Aemma presses her forehead lightly against the side of yours, grounding you with her presence. “I know, I know,” she murmurs. “Just breathe. Slow and steady. You’ll be back in your chambers before the next one comes.”
Your heart pounds as you’re guided back toward the keep. Each step feels heavier than the last, and you’re dimly aware of voices calling for Daemon, the clatter of footsteps on stone, and the worried looks of servants and guards. But your world narrows to Aemma’s calm, steady voice.
“You’re doing so well,” she says, her words soothing even as you feel the panic clawing at the edge of your mind. “Daemon will be there. He’ll be right by your side.”
You nod, your breath hitching as another wave of pain crashes through you. “He… he better be,” you manage to say through the pain, forcing a small smile despite it all.
Aemma smiles back, her eyes filled with pride and quiet strength. “He will,” she promises, her tone unshakable. “He always is.”
The chamber feels warmer than usual, the air thick with the scent of burning candles and fresh linens. You pace back and forth, one hand pressed firmly against the small of your back, the other gripping the edge of a chair for support. The tight, rhythmic pain that pulses through your belly is growing sharper and more frequent. Sweat beads on your brow, and your breaths come in short, strained bursts.
“Daemon!” you call out, voice cracking with urgency as another contraction grips you. Your legs tremble, and you brace yourself against the bedpost, squeezing it so hard your knuckles turn white. “Daemon, now!”
The door bursts open moments later, and Daemon strides in, his eyes wild with alarm. He takes in the scene instantly — the way you’re leaning forward, the strain in your face, and the tremble in your body. He moves to your side in a heartbeat, one arm wrapping around your waist to support you.
“I’m here, I’m here,” he murmurs, his voice unusually soft but firm. His eyes meet yours, and you can see the worry simmering just beneath the surface. “You should be lying down.”
“No,” you snap, breathing hard as you shake your head. “I can’t — it hurts more when I lie down.” You grip his arm tightly as another contraction rolls through you, and a groan escapes your lips. “It’s too soon, Daemon… it’s too soon.”
Daemon’s jaw tightens, his gaze darting toward the doorway. “Where is the maester?!” he shouts, his voice echoing through the halls. “Now!”
The sound of hurried footsteps follows his command, and soon Maester Gerardys enters, flanked by two midwives carrying fresh cloths and basins of warm water. Gerardys’s eyes narrow as he takes in your condition. “Her labor has begun in earnest,” he says gravely, stepping forward with calm authority. “We must prepare her.”
“Prepare me?” you hiss, clinging to Daemon as another wave of pain hits. Your nails dig into his sleeve, and he lets you grip him as tightly as you need. “They’re not supposed to come now. It’s too early.”
“Babes come when they wish, princess,” Maester Gerardys replies gently but firmly, moving to check your condition. “The fact that you’re still walking is a good sign. But you must save your strength.”
Daemon presses his lips to your temple, his hand sliding up and down your back in soothing strokes. “He’s right,” he says softly, his breath warm against your ear. “Come, love. Sit, just for a moment.”
Reluctantly, you nod, letting him guide you toward the bed. Your legs feel weak, and the moment you sit, another contraction wracks your body. You cry out, head bowing forward as the pain takes you. Daemon is right there, kneeling in front of you, his hands on your thighs, his eyes locked on yours.
“Look at me,” he says firmly, his voice a steady anchor in the storm of pain. “Breathe with me, alright? In through your nose, out through your mouth.” He exaggerates each breath, making you follow his lead. “Just like that. You’re doing so well.”
Tears prick the corners of your eyes, and you shake your head, frustrated and exhausted. “I’m scared, Daemon,” you admit, voice barely a whisper. “I’m so scared.”
His hands move up to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that have begun to fall. His violet eyes meet yours with an intensity that makes the world feel just a little less overwhelming. “You’re not alone,” he says, voice low but fierce with conviction. “I’m here. I’ll always be here.”
Another contraction hits, this one even stronger, and you cry out, your whole body tensing. The midwives move to your side, readying fresh cloths and water.
“Steady, princess,” Maester Gerardys says, his tone calm but commanding. “The babes are coming. You’ve done everything right. It’s time now. Let them come.”
Daemon doesn’t leave your side, his hands firm but gentle, his eyes never once looking away from you. “You’ve faced dragons, love,” he says with a faint, crooked smile. “What’s two little babes compared to that?”
His words make you laugh, but it’s short-lived as another wave of pain comes. You grip his hands with all your strength, clinging to him like a lifeline. “I hate you right now,” you mutter through clenched teeth.
His grin widens, his eyes filled with nothing but love. “Then you’re doing it right,” he says, pressing his forehead to yours. “Hate me all you like. But you’ll love me again when you’re holding them.”
With those words, you feel something shift, a pressure that tells you the time is near. Panic threatens to rise again, but you hold on to Daemon’s gaze, his steady presence like a flame in the darkness. You’re not alone. Not now, not ever.
The door swings open with a thud, and your mother rushes in, her face etched with worry and determination. Her gaze locks onto you immediately, and she moves with practiced grace, her skirts swishing as she makes her way to your side.
“My sweet girl,” she says softly, her voice like a balm against the storm raging inside you. She kneels next to you, brushing the damp hair away from your face. Her eyes flicker with both concern and reassurance. “I’m here now. Breathe, darling. Just breathe.”
Another contraction seizes you, sharper and stronger than before. Your back arches, and a guttural cry tears from your throat. Daemon grips one of your hands, and your mother takes the other, both anchoring you as you ride the wave of pain.
“You’re doing so well, love,” Daemon says, his voice low but steady, his forehead pressed to yours. “Just a little longer.”
“Easy for you to say,” you snap, panting as the pain finally subsides, your breath coming in shallow gasps. “You’re not the one being torn in half.”
Your mother huffs a short laugh, though her eyes are misty with unshed tears. “She’s strong, this one,” she says, glancing at Daemon. “Stronger than she knows.” Her eyes return to you, full of fierce pride and love. “You’ve got this, my brave girl. We Tyrell women are made of steel wrapped in silk.”
Her words give you strength, and you nod, tears spilling down your cheeks. “It hurts so much, Mother,” you whisper, your voice cracking with exhaustion.
“I know, sweetheart, I know,” she soothes, pressing her cool hand to your burning forehead. “But you’re almost there. The pain means they’re coming.”
Another sharp contraction strikes, and you scream, your body tensing as you grip their hands with all your might. The midwives rush to your side, exchanging quick, knowing glances.
“She’s crowning,” one of them announces, her voice firm but excited. “It’s time, princess. You must push now.”
Your heart races in panic. “I can’t— I can’t do this—”
“You can,” Daemon says firmly, his eyes blazing with conviction. His hands cradle your face, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Look at me. Look at me, love. You are fire and fury. You can do this.”
Your mother nods, her grip on your hand tightening. “We’re right here, my darling. You’re not alone.”
With a loud cry, you push, every muscle in your body straining as the weight of the world seems to press down on you. The pain is unbearable, but Daemon’s voice in your ear, your mother’s hand in yours — they ground you, keep you from slipping into fear.
“That’s it, princess,” the maester says, his voice suddenly more urgent. “Again. Push!”
With a scream that echoes through the chamber, you push with everything you have. Time slows to a crawl, your senses overwhelmed by the weight of the moment. Then, at last —
A loud, piercing wail fills the room. A baby’s cry.
“You did it!” your mother exclaims, tears now freely streaming down her face. “You did it, my love!”
Daemon lets out a breathless laugh, his head falling forward in relief as he presses his lips to your temple. His voice is choked with emotion. “You’re incredible,” he whispers, his voice rough with pride and awe.
The midwife lifts the baby high for you to see — a tiny, wriggling form with a head of damp, silver hair. “It’s a boy, princess,” she says, her smile wide as she hands him over to a waiting midwife to be cleaned.
But the moment of relief is short-lived. Another sharp, searing pain cuts through you, and you gasp, clutching at Daemon.
“Another one?” you choke out, eyes wide in panic. “It’s happening again—”
The midwives move quickly, already prepared. Your mother is instantly back at your side, wiping your brow. “Of course it is, darling. Twins, remember?” she says, her voice gentle but firm. “You already did it once. You can do it again.”
“You were made for this,” Daemon adds, his voice steady as steel. “One more, my love. Just one more.”
With a shaky breath, you nod, drawing on every reserve of strength you have left. Your eyes meet Daemon’s, and you see nothing but love and certainty in his gaze. You nod again, gritting your teeth.
“Alright,” you breathe. “Alright. Let’s finish this.”
“Push, princess!” the maester calls.
With a roar that comes from the deepest part of your soul, you push once more. Every muscle, every fiber of your being strains with effort. The pain is unlike anything you’ve ever known, but you don’t give in. Not now. Not when you’re so close.
Another wail fills the room, this one higher, sharper, but just as strong. The sound of it sends a rush of relief through your chest.
“It’s a girl!” the midwife cries, holding up the second babe, her tiny hands waving in the air. “A strong, healthy girl.”
You fall back against the pillows, utterly spent, tears running freely down your face. Daemon’s hand never leaves yours, and his lips press to your knuckles as he lets out a breathless, joyful laugh. “A boy and a girl,” he says, his eyes shining like twin stars. “Our boy and our girl.”
Your mother presses a kiss to your damp hair, her eyes filled with nothing but pride and love. “You did it, my sweet girl. I’ve never been prouder of you.”
The midwives place the two swaddled babes in your arms, one on each side. You gaze down at them, your heart so full it feels as though it might burst. The boy’s face is scrunched in a tiny scowl, while the girl yawns, her tiny hand curling into a fist.
“They’re perfect,” you whisper, tears still falling. “Daemon… they’re perfect.”
He kneels beside you, his face so full of love that it’s almost unrecognizable. He touches the top of his son’s head, then his daughter’s, his fingers trembling as if he can’t believe they’re real.
“They’re ours,” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion. “You did this, love. You brought them into this world.”
“We did,” you correct, leaning your head against his shoulder. “We did this.”
He presses a kiss to your temple, lingering there for a moment as the weight of everything settles in. Your mother watches with a smile full of quiet pride, her eyes fixed on you as though she’s seeing you for the first time.
Your breathing grows shallow as another sharp, searing pain tears through you. Panic surges in your chest, your heart pounding like a war drum. You clutch Daemon’s arm, your eyes wild with confusion and fear.
“Daemon—” you gasp, your voice trembling. “Something’s wrong.”
Daemon’s eyes snap to yours, his face instantly shifting from joy to alarm. “What’s happening?” he demands, turning to the maester. “Why is she still in pain?”
The midwives and maester exchange frantic glances before one of the midwives moves swiftly to your side, pressing a hand to your belly. Her eyes widen, and she glances up with a mix of shock and urgency.
“Another one,” she breathes, eyes darting to the maester. “There’s another babe still inside.”
“What?” you choke out, your breath hitching in disbelief. “No—no, you said two! You said it was twins!”
The maester steps forward, his face pale but resolute. “Sometimes, princess, one can be hidden behind the others. It is rare but not unheard of. This child is presenting breech.”
Breech. The word echoes in your mind, filling you with dread. You’ve heard the stories. It’s dangerous — for both mother and child.
Daemon’s grip on your hand tightens, his jaw clenching so hard you can see the muscle twitch. “Then fix it,” he growls, his voice like the crack of thunder. “Do whatever it takes. She survives. They all survive.” His eyes are wild, his protective fury ignited like dragonfire.
Your mother moves to your side, her face steady but her eyes sharp with focus. She grips your hand, leaning in close. “Look at me, darling,” she says softly but firmly. “You’ve done this before. You can do it again. This one will be stubborn, yes, but so are you.”
Tears streak down your face as another wave of pain crashes over you, your body tensing against it. You sob, pressing your face into Daemon’s shoulder, clutching him as if he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to this world.
“I can’t,” you cry, your voice muffled by his tunic. “Mother, I can’t—”
“Yes, you can,” she insists, cupping your face with both hands. Her eyes burn with fierce, unyielding determination. “You’ve already brought two dragons into this world. You are stronger than you know. This little one is just as stubborn as you, that’s all. Now breathe.”
Daemon presses his forehead against yours, his hand cradling the back of your head. “You’re not alone, love,” he whispers, his voice rough but steady. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
The maester kneels between your legs, his hands moving carefully. “Princess, we’ll need you to push as before,” he says, his tone urgent but calm. “This one is turned, but I will guide them as best I can.” He glances at you, his gaze firm. “When the pain returns, you must push as hard as you can.”
“Push?” you cry, a wave of terror threatening to consume you. “I’ve nothing left to give!”
“You do,” Daemon growls, his voice fierce as he tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes. “You have more. You’re fire, you’re fury, and you are mine. Our dragon needs you now, love.”
His words strike something deep within you — deeper than the pain, deeper than the fear. Your heart thunders with a surge of resolve. You grip your mother’s hand, your knuckles white, and nod.
“Alright,” you gasp, drawing in a ragged breath. “Alright. I’m ready.”
“Good girl,” your mother praises, brushing back your damp hair. “Breathe. When it comes, give it everything you have.”
The next contraction is like a tidal wave, surging through you with a force that takes your breath away. But this time, you don’t fight it. You push, screaming with everything in you, every last shred of will and fury.
“Again!” the maester calls, his voice sharp as steel.
You push again, your vision blurring, the world reduced to the roaring fire of your pain and the steady, grounding weight of Daemon’s hand gripping yours. His voice is in your ear, low and commanding. “That’s it, my love. Again. Again.”
Another push. Another scream. Time loses meaning, the world spinning into a haze of pain and exhaustion. You feel like you’re being pulled apart, but you don’t stop. You won’t stop.
Then, at last—
A cry. Sharp. Strong. Alive.
The room stills for a breathless moment. You fall back against the pillows, sobbing with relief. The weight of it all crashes down on you like a wave, and all you can do is cry, shaking from exhaustion.
“Another boy,” the midwife announces, her voice filled with awe and wonder. She carefully lifts the baby, his tiny fists waving in the air as his loud cries fill the chamber. “A strong, stubborn boy.”
Your tears come faster as you gaze at him, your heart too full to hold it all. Your body feels like it’s been shattered and remade, but none of it matters. He’s here. They’re all here.
Daemon lets out a sharp, breathless laugh, his head dropping against your shoulder. His arms wrap around you, holding you so tightly that it’s as if he’s afraid to let go. “Three,” he mutters, his voice thick with disbelief and pride. “Three dragons. You gave me three dragons.”
The midwives place the third baby on your chest, and you weep as you hold him close, feeling the warmth of him against you. His tiny face scrunches, his cries loud and defiant. Your fingers trace his soft cheek, and you let out a shaky breath of pure, unfiltered love.
Your mother sits by your side, wiping her own tears as she strokes your hair. “Three babes,” she says with a wide, teary smile. “The gods have blessed you greatly, my darling. Greater than most.”
Daemon rests his head beside yours, his gaze locked on the three sleeping babes now swaddled in soft cloth and placed beside you. He shakes his head, his face a mask of awe and disbelief. “They’ll sing songs about you,” he murmurs, his voice filled with wonder. “The woman who bore three dragons at once.”
You turn your head toward him, tears still clinging to your lashes, and give him a tired but triumphant smile. “Only if you tell them,” you murmur, your voice hoarse but filled with quiet pride.
He smiles back at you, leaning in to kiss you softly, lingering just a moment longer than necessary. “I’ll tell them,” he says, his eyes shining like molten gold. “I’ll tell them every day for the rest of my life.”
With the weight of his love and the warmth of your three little dragons nestled by your side, you finally let yourself rest. The fire in you has not dimmed — no, it has only grown stronger. You are the mother of dragons, and the world will remember.
You lie propped up against a mountain of pillows, exhaustion still weighing down your limbs, but the sight before you fills your heart with warmth. Daemon sits beside you, one arm draped protectively around your shoulders while the other rests lightly on one of the cradles where your three newborns sleep soundly. Their tiny breaths are soft puffs of air, their small hands curled into delicate fists.
The gentle creak of the door draws your attention. Your gaze shifts, and you see King Jaehaerys enter, his regal presence filling the room despite his age. Beside him walks Prince Baelon, his broad smile impossible to miss. Following close behind are Viserys and Aemma, the latter carrying little Rhaenyra in her arms, her chubby hands clapping with excitement at the new faces in the room.
“Three,” Baelon says, his booming voice filled with wonder and amusement. “Three dragons at once. The realm will be talking about this for years to come.” He steps forward, his eyes shining with pride as he approaches the cradles. “Which one is the fiercest?” he asks with a grin, peering down at the swaddled babes.
Daemon snorts, his smirk lazy but proud. “All of them,” he replies, his voice thick with exhaustion but filled with unmistakable pride. “They’re mine, after all.”
The room fills with soft laughter. Aemma approaches your side, setting Rhaenyra down carefully before leaning in to press a kiss to your temple. “You are incredible,” she says, her eyes filled with admiration. “Three at once… I can hardly imagine it.” She sits beside you, gazing down at the sleeping babes with quiet awe.
“Neither could I,” you murmur, glancing at the tiny faces of your children. Your heart swells with so much love it feels as though it might burst. “I only thought I’d have two. But the gods had other plans.”
Viserys steps forward, his eyes gentle as he kneels to get a closer look at the babes. He tilts his head, a thoughtful smile tugging at his lips. “Do they have names yet?” he asks, his voice soft so as not to disturb them.
Daemon glances at you, his eyes seeking yours for confirmation. You nod, and he speaks with quiet certainty, his voice like the rumble of distant thunder. “Maegon, Vaelya, and Aerion.”
The names settle in the air like sacred vows. King Jaehaerys nods approvingly, his eyes twinkling with delight. “Strong names,” he says, his voice carrying the weight of wisdom. “Names worthy of dragons.”
Rhaenyra toddles forward, her curious eyes fixed on the cradles. She reaches out with her small hands, her face scrunching in concentration as she points at one of the babies. “Bebby,” she says with a little giggle. “Bebby!”
Aemma chuckles, scooping her daughter into her lap. “Yes, sweetling, those are babies. Your cousins.”
Rhaenyra looks from the cradles to you, her wide eyes blinking with fascination. She points at you next. “Mama?”
Your heart melts. A soft laugh escapes you as you reach out, brushing a hand through Rhaenyra’s silver-gold hair. “No, little star,” you say with a smile. “I’m their mama.” You gesture to the cradles. “They’re my little dragons.”
Rhaenyra tilts her head, clearly thinking hard. After a moment, she smiles and points to you again. “Mama dragons!” she declares, giggling to herself as if it’s the funniest thing in the world.
Baelon bursts out laughing, his voice filling the room. “That’s it!” he says, still chuckling. “The Mother of Dragons herself. That’s what they’ll call you now.”
You glance at Daemon, expecting him to roll his eyes at the dramatics, but instead, you find him gazing at you with that look — the one that makes you feel like the most powerful woman in the world. His hand moves to cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your skin.
“They’ll call you that,” he says, his voice low but certain. “And they’ll be right.”
The warmth of his words wraps around you like a cloak, stronger than any fire. The exhaustion in your bones suddenly feels worth it. Every ache, every pain, every sleepless night — all of it was for this moment. For them. For him.
The children sleep soundly, the world quiet except for the soft crackling of the hearth and the murmured conversations of family. You lean your head against Daemon’s shoulder, letting his warmth lull you into a peaceful haze.
Three dragons. Three beautiful, strong, fierce little dragons. And you, their mother, are ready to protect them with every ounce of fire in your soul.
The gentle knock on the chamber door draws everyone’s attention. Daemon rises from his seat beside you, his hand resting protectively on your shoulder before he moves to answer it. The door creaks open to reveal a Red Keep guard, standing beside one of the dragonkeepers clad in dark leathers lined with scales. The dragonkeeper holds a large wooden box, his stance careful and deliberate as if he were carrying something precious — and he is.
The moment you see it, your breath catches in your throat. The box is unlatched and opened slowly, revealing three dragon eggs nestled in soft layers of blackened ash and cloth. Each egg glimmers with an otherworldly sheen, their surfaces glinting in the warm glow of the chamber’s fire.
Gasps echo throughout the room. King Jaehaerys leans forward, his sharp gaze fixed on the eggs, while Prince Baelon lets out a low whistle of appreciation. Aemma presses a hand to her chest, her eyes wide with wonder. Even little Rhaenyra stares in fascination, her small hands clapping in delight.
“By the gods,” Aemma breathes, awe clear in her voice. “Three eggs… for three dragons.” Her eyes shift to you, full of meaning.
The dragonkeeper steps forward, bowing his head respectfully. “Gifts from Dragonstone, my lady,” he announces. His voice is steady but reverent. “Freshly laid from the hatchery. They are yours by right.”
Your heart swells with emotion. Three eggs. Each one is as beautiful as it is dangerous — a promise of power, legacy, and fire. You glance at Daemon, who is watching you with a fierce pride, his gaze shifting between you and the eggs. He nods, his jaw set with resolve.
“Come,” Daemon says, his voice firm but soft as he walks back to your side. “Let them see.”
Carefully, the dragonkeeper places the box on the small table beside you. You lean forward, your eyes drawn to the eggs like a moth to flame. One egg is a deep crimson red, flecked with streaks of black, like molten lava cracking through stone. Another is a pale silver-blue with swirls of icy white — reminiscent of the sea during a storm. The third is a deep, smoky green, its surface marked with flecks of bronze that shimmer like sunlight on leaves.
You reach out with a steady hand, fingers grazing the surface of the red egg. It’s warm to the touch, alive with subtle vibrations, as though something inside is already stirring. Your gaze flickers to Daemon, and he watches you intently, as if witnessing something sacred.
“They’ll bond with them,” Daemon says quietly, his eyes shifting to the cradles where your three newborns sleep. “They’ll grow together.” His voice is filled with certainty, like it is a prophecy already written in stone.
You glance at the sleeping babes. Maegon, Vaelya, and Aerion. Three children, three dragon eggs. Fire and blood. Legacy.
King Jaehaerys rises from his chair, his face thoughtful but pleased. “This is a sign,” he declares, his voice echoing with authority. “The blood of the dragon runs strong in them. They will be great, as their father and mother are.”
Prince Baelon grins wide, his eyes sharp with excitement. “Aegon the Conqueror had three dragons,” he says, tilting his head as he gazes at you. “It seems history has a fondness for repeating itself.”
Aemma steps forward, her gaze moving from the eggs to you. “Have you decided which egg belongs to which child?” she asks, her smile soft but curious.
You look down at the eggs, fingers brushing over each one in turn. It feels as though they call to you, whispering their secrets through the warmth beneath your palm.
For Maegon, you choose the red egg, fierce and untamed, a symbol of strength and fire. He will be a warrior, you think. A flame that will never be extinguished.
For Vaelya, you choose the silver-blue egg, cool yet powerful, like the stillness before a raging storm. She will be steady and wise, but never weak. The sea and sky will answer her call.
For Aerion, you choose the green egg with bronze flecks, vibrant and wild, a reflection of growth, change, and rebirth. He will be a force of nature, ever growing, ever changing.
With each choice, you feel a weight lift from your heart, as if the decision had been waiting for you to realize it all along.
“They are theirs,” you say aloud, gazing at the eggs with quiet reverence. “Maegon, Vaelya, and Aerion. Their dragons will rise with them.”
Daemon’s hand rests on your shoulder, his fingers curling softly against you. “They will,” he says, his voice low with conviction. “And the world will never forget it.”
The dragonkeeper bows his head once more before backing away, his task complete. The box is left behind, its contents no longer just eggs but something far greater. The fire crackles softly, casting warm, dancing shadows across the eggs, as if they, too, are dreaming of the future.
You lean into Daemon’s side, exhaustion settling back into your bones, but your heart is full. Your children have their dragons. Your legacy is secured.
tag list : @danytar @hangmanscoming @yazzzmints @julessworldd
#hotd imagine#hotd#hotd one shot#hotd x reader#daemon targaryen#hotd daemon#daemon targeryen x reader#daemon x reader#daemon smut#daemon targeryan#aegon ii targaryen#prince aegon targaryen#aemond targaryen#hotd aemond#aegon ii fanfic#hotd fanfic
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The Red Queen Chapters
(summarry: the second daughter of king Viserys caught the hearts of many, but none more than her dear uncle. and daemon will do everything in his power to make sure no one takes his sweet niece.)
this is my first fic and I have dylexia so do be kind and give constructive criticism! thank you!
The Red Queen Kids
The Red Quenn Kids (cause I could fit them all in the first one)
The Red Queen Kids (Laenas daughters and Jaehaerys, Jaehaera, and Maelor)
Dragons
Dragons 2 (for the rest of Daemona and Readers kids)
Dragons 3 (for Laena, Jaehaerys, Jaehaera, and Maelor)
Dragons 4 (Laenas daughters)
prolouge Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16
Moonboards Daemons and Readers Moonboard the kids moonboards
@baybaybear1 @ilikefelines @sugutoad @fallenxjas @themoonlitquill @thelastemzy @athzhowakar @sachaa-ff @mmogurl @classicsimpforaaronwarner
Special thanks to my amazing friend @sugutoad for making the header! I hope you all love it as much as I do!
#aemma arryn#anti rhaenyra targaryen#daemon targaryen#daemon x reader#daemon x you#hotd#house of the dragon#rhaenyra targaryen#team green#alicent hightower#king viserys#otto hightower#daemon targeryen x reader#daemon targaryen smut#daemon targeryan#dragon#aemond targaryen#aegon ii targaryen#helaena targaryen#pro team green#anti team black#the red queen au
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