#because she is working daemon up not the other way around | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

g1rlken · 4 months ago

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┏ Like real people do 2. ┐

Aemond Targaryen x wife!daemon’s daughter reader

⋆˚࿔ read part 1 here ˚⋆𝜗𝜚˚⋆

summary: blood and cheese, where daemon [the best dad (satire)] also orders for his daughter smuggled back to him, violent aftermath

an: there is no brothel Aemond subplot involved

word count: 5.2k

warnings: blood and cheese, canon violence, violence, daddy issues being mocked, arguments, once again blood and cheese

The war was afoot, degeneracies increasing, treacherous plans and endless councils. Amidst all of that y/n still found time to pay Haelena a visit as frequently as she could. Both of them had found impeccable friends in each other and the twins were always a delight. Striding through the halls of red keep, prodding her head inside with a soft knock on the queen's doors which were wide open as it is, "look!" y/n entered with a wide smile on her face. Twirling around she showed Haelena the dress she wore, it was a dress Haelena had embroidered for her with special spiders and other custom animals. Haelena had remarked on y/n's elegantly plain dresses, the edges could all use embroidery and y/n was more than glad to let Haelena design on her dress. "You made it so much better, the small bugs in blue thread it’s so beautifully assembled-" before she could comment more on the beauty of her queen sister's embroidery she was there to showcase, y/n was under attack of her niece and nephew, "why good morrow to you two!" she giggled as the two tugged at her dress for consecutive raise-me-ups.

"I am very glad!" Haelena said offering her a smile as she scanned those designs, Haelena was warmly elated that y/n chose to wore the dress she had embroidered and the fact that she let her do it in the first place.

"You must teach me your ways" y/n commented whilst actively engaging with jaehaerys and jaehaera, she couldn't carry both the babies at the same time but she was trying to entertain them regardless, the two were latched to their auntie's knees like monkeys.

"I could always make you more, save you the time!" Haelena offered instead, she tried to distract whichever one of the children with a toy but both were way too smitten with their ever so busy aunt, now that she had the council she spent supposedly lesser time with the twins.

"That too would be so convenient!" Y/n said, Jaehaera was raised on her back, making mischief with her aunt as she tried to close her eyes with her tiny hands from behind. Both the twins laughing as she did so, regardless y/n laughed along trying to maintain her balance the best.

"That is enough..." Haelena trailed off in amusement as she helped Jaehaera off of y/n's back. The babe did not let go before whining about it, jaehaerys still tugging at his aunt's dress to get her to bend down so he could talk.

"It's alright" let out a small chuckle y/n's attention was caught down to the little heir pulling at her dress, for her to bend to his level. "Yes little prince?" She asked, attentive to her nephew's whims and demands.

"You said you were going to read to me" Jaeherys reminded her in a rather witty sense, having a sense of one upping her since she forgot about it.

"Oh did I now?" She paused for a second trying to remember when exactly was the reading session arranged for.

"Yes! The-the one with the fox and the-crows...where you do the voice!" The little prince was soon to remind her of which exact story they had left off from. He liked it better when his auntie read it to him than the wet nurses or his mum because she often did those giddy voices and the stories she read in were more entertaining than the ones with septa.

"Gods I must have forgotten" she said in a somewhat melodramatic tone to make the child think she took their reading session as a serious matter, "I have got some work on my hands at the moment but I assure you I will come continue the story-"

"When!" Jaeherys whined with a sort of tired expression given the delay in his story.

"Tonight." She answered genuinely, "Right after dinner!"

"Do you promise?" He asked wanting to take her aunty's word for proper surety.

"I promise." She said holding his tiny hands in hers giving them a gentle squeeze to assure him of her promise. Kissing both her niece and nephew on the forehead as she stood up, in attempt to take her peace Haelena stopped her.

"Are you not afraid?" Asked her sister in law with a tense look on her face, like those times when she would be out of it. As if she spoke another language and saw other things. "When the stones call you back?"

"What...what stones?" She asked, at first y/n thought Haelena was referring to some palace. Could this be in correlation to something with the council, is what y/n presumed.

"The stones. They will call you back!" Haelena gripped her elbows tighter, to emphasise the gravity of the situation she felt. "They'll take you away!"

"Nobody is taking anyone away..." y/n trailed off, shaking her head slightly as she ran her hand down Haelena's in a soothing way. "We are all safe here and there is nothing to be scared of. I promise you. I am not going anywhere." She assured her. Y/n assumed that it would worry Haelena to lose the best friend she had in herself if she were to go back because of the war waging. In her father's name perhaps, her worry was not unsolicited but y/n was sure her father's was a house not hers that is even before her marriage with Aemond.

Haelena could never seem to get her point across for some reason, she couldn't digest her wearies in a coherent way herself so she nodded with a small smile. The restlessness still consistent within her as y/n took her leave. Ever since the intimate moment with Aemond, their relationship had grown rather awkward. Aemond was closed off as always, unable to convey his infatuation. Awkward in this area, the young lovers found it difficult to navigate through a conversation. Bristling fingers through glasses, stealing glances, speaking out their love in small gestures.

That did not account for the fact that the council matters too seeped into the newlywed's marital bliss phase. Aemond too had a seat now, on the king's word. He would attend those meetings and at times the two would have drastically counter opinions. His lady wife, she would sit in the same line of seats after the hand and his mother. Speaking their minds against him, just as they had intended for her. A council within the council. "All you do is account for grand sire and mother, no such thoughts of your own. A mere puppet." Aemond scoffed as they were currently in a conversation in their chambers reflecting to that day's council meeting.

The day was at its end and as was y/n, end of her wits. His bickering was just what she needed, "And you?" she said in a tone more accusatory than his, rightfully so "all you add to the discussions is the warpath Ser Criston weaves."

"I stand for it, you just chew out what the council within the council spews" he scoffed, coming out harsher than intended but now this had become usual."I know you informed the hand of my meetings with Cole."

"Didn't do it as a snitch, had you asked me I would have told you I informed the hand." Y/n said trying to counter his condescending remarks. She wasn't a 'puppet' how he implied "Just because I do not agree with you doesn't make me a puppet to those with better judgment than yours."

"Better judgment than mine?" He let out a low huff finding it absurd that she believed Otto and his mother had a better judgment over the war than his, "you think writing to other castles, pleading, awaiting their help whilst we have three large dragons is a better judgement?"

"And what? What do you plan to do with the dragons? Burn all those against us?" She asked him growing agitated having this conversation again, "You are in favour of a lot of unnecessary bloodshed-"

"It is necessary. To make an example, to lay out a path." Aemond interrupted her, taking in a small breath "Raise your banners or watch them burn. This is what the blacks are already set to implement whilst we sit hand on hand sending out messengers!"

"You want to create a sense of fright! That is all you will accomplish with burning houses." She said in an assertive tone as she crossed her arms. This is what Ser Criston had told him too, the words struck him a small remembrance.

"Are you eavesdropping my meetings with Cole?" He questioned, as the reference resembled similar words to Cole's. Cole didn't exactly have the same notion as his wife but the words were vaguely same.

"You sit right across this room" she gestured to the adjoining room after their bedchamber. The small opening after their room led to the table against the wall where Cole and Aemond had their meetings, "The meetings you have after you assume I'm asleep, as it is too loud enough for me to not eavesdrop or be able to sleep."

"Of course" he couldn't help but roll his eyes, "You must have told the hand about it word for word yes? Like a parrot"

"Don't think of yourself too highly, your conversations are rather predictable even to those who aren't present" she replied. He wasn't wrong that she informed the hand about it but she took accountability for that.

"At least my conversations hold a spine" in two strides he reached the table she was leaning on to pour himself a glass of wine, "Unlike yours, but well that is what was intended for you" he shrugged.

For a moment, y/n sighed shutting her eyes "What are you implying?" She asked trying to maintain a calm composure because she was aware he would have words that would make antagonise her.

"You know, why you are in the council in the first place" he said in casual harshness. "Otto needed someone to voice his opinions like the righteous little lady that you are."

"I am on the council because of the seat I have inherited through my father." Y/n referred to the original conversation for her being on the council, he wasn't even part of that decision yet acted like he knew better than anyone. Smugly sipping his wine as he set his cup aside, the inherent smirk on his face irritated her to no end.

"You are claiming the father's seat who didn't even want to claim you?" He scoffed, Aemond could attest for the fact that he did not hate her in full surety. Rather fond of her too, but he was fond of his lady wife. The soft lover he did not knew he needed, big eyes that held love for everything they were laid upon. Tenderness and warmth seeping out the cracks of her which would mend the hollow cracks in him but it was the council member in her, otto's silent weapon which he could not stand.

In the process of wanting to get back at righteous council member he couldn't stand he truly hurt the daughter that begged for her world to sun, tears brimmed her eyes and she could not help it. She struck him across the face, the nerve of him. Shattered the home she thought she might finally have. He simply flinched at her action, his eyes widened a bit not at her gesture but at her tears. Registering her tears before the slap she landed her, at loss of words. "Leave." She spoke with a shuddered breath, couldn't even meet his eyes. Feeling stripped of the hope and pride she spent days building. Y/n had never raised a hand to anyone, that didn’t exactly harm Aemond in any way still the gesture in itself made her feel ugly after a moment’s silence marinated the interaction.

Without saying a word Aemond did leave, he didn't want to retaliate with her in any way. Because in that very moment both of them took a misstep and he did not want that moment to last longer. In a few strides he was out of their chambers. Y/n gripped the table to steady herself as the tears streamed down her face, a restlessness made home within her chest as she took heavy breaths.

The weight of all her despair was so heavy, at times she would just shut them in case and shove them deep inside her heart and inside her mind so she wouldn't have to face them in retrospect. It all just felt so inescapable, how she begged to be her father's daughter and how she was rejected the whole time. Now, farther away from him, bit by bit being at peace with the people she now surrounded herself with. Even in such state of distress she didn't feel alone any longer, she even felt loved. As far stretched as it sounded she even felt at ease with Aemond and he shattered all of it with just one sentence.

She lost the track of time since the moments of Aemond walking out as she just stood there falling apart, but when she felt some footsteps behind her she wiped her tears trying to compose herself. If there was anything she learned from her father it was that, nobody ever cared how much you fall apart so don't give them a reason to hold against you. Daemon always hated weeping children. Quickly she wiped her tears, she wouldn't want Aemond to think of her weak in these times. With a deep sigh she turned to face the footsteps she assumed was Aemond.

Apparently it wasn't. "Yes?" She asked with furrowed brows to the stranger who just walked into the room, not even a knock or an announcement like the guards or servants. The man wasn't even dressed like a guard or a servant. She stood alarmed taking a step further into the table as the man forwarded towards here without a word. "Guard-" she tried to yell as loud as she could but the man grabbed her head in a swift motion and shoved her into the table's edge. As if to knock her unconscious.

"Not another word or I kill you." Blood said with his hands around her neck, about to choke her as she struggled against him. Trying to grasp against his hands on her, trying to suffocate her she kicked her legs. Tried to scream regardless of his warning. With an extreme distaste for her, obviously, in blood's eyes the princess wasn't even worth so much and too much trouble to smuggle out. "Your daddy wants you back."

By the time the guards did find the princess, in the hallways, she was already half unconscious. Immediately rescued into the safest place in the keep, the council. Retrieved but not at all unharmed. The council was already set into course for the subject of the young prince when Larys walked in with y/n. He had previously informed her of what had happened with her nephew, his passing it hadn't really struck her yet given she could barely process all that had happened.

Queen alicent gasped as she stood up quickly running to y/n's side, all the bruises on her face, open cuts and bleeding out the torn sleeves in her dress. "Gods..." she exclaimed in horror as she helped her onto her seat. "What happened to her?" She asked Lord Larys.

"The guards found the intruder, trying to smuggle the princess out of the keep. A gold cloak known for his brutal nature, found with her, having inflicted his brutality upon her and...the prince's head, in a sack." He briefed the council as they all listened to him, everyone else but the king at loss of words. As Lord Larys left alicent was still tending to y/n, cooing at her, she seemed to be in a half conscious state.

"I am alright" she muttered to her mother in law as Alicent nodded but held her hand in hers to provide her whatever consolation she could. Just the sight of having suffered such assault sent the queen into a huge distress. Weakly holding her hand back as if to steady herself into this nightmare. When Lord Larys told her of Jahaerys's tragedy she did not believe it at all. She was confidently positive there must be some mistake in his information because that would not be possible at all.

If it wasn't for Aegon screeching in the background, y/n couldn't make out if she was actually awake in this very moment. The ringing in her ears still hadn't gone out and she wished that she would perish with that same ringing if it were to happen because living through this seemed so difficult. No way to navigate, circumstance so heavy she felt paralysed to meet anyone's face. Aegon was screeching as he wept for his son, blind with rage to kill the man found guilty for the crime. The member advised otherwise saying the king has a lot of enemies and they don't know for sure whose hand it could be.

"I suppose you are right..." Aegon trailed off slowly pacing down the table back to his seat, with an accusatory demeanour towards everyone else "it could be anyone of you, in this room."

A small silence fell, strengthening the tension and grief in the room as y/n just stared at the empty seat beside her. That very morning, just the day prior, where her nephew sat. Then Aemond after him, empty now. "It was Daemon." She declared of what she knew for sure, first time in her life she referred to Daemon with his first name instead of her father. After everything that he did, every misery she endured at the hands of her father, what happened now made her want to be distanced and foreign from him as much as she could. "His doing." She breathed and looked at the council, the drained colour on everyone's face she just registered-it was blinding her. "The man—the gold cloak" she continue, "trying to get a hold of me, h-he—he said 'your daddy wants you back.'" Repeating the words sent a chill down her spine as if she was in that very moment again, she still felt those hands on her, suffocating and heavy. A disgusting play in the mix. “That man came here, on Daemon’s order.”

The rest were comprehending that still, how a man could be so crude not only killing a child but having his own assaulted and kidnapped back home like this? " In one sense, as we determine what happened and...if we in the keep are still in peril. In another sense of course...it doesn't matter." Otto said and looked at Y/n. The princess surely did not seem to understand the hand's implication.

However Lord Tyland did so, "You mean to blame Rhaenyra." He said in a beat. "Tell the realm she had done this." Tyland spoke out Otto's implication.

"I'll have the realm told nothing! We were assaulted within our own walls, within our own beds!" Aegon spoke up almost immediately "Y/n, my brother's wife! The fucking princess almost beaten unconscious—being smuggled out?" He emphasised on the word brother, enraged even for his sister in law and the lack of his brother's presence when it must have mattered the most. "I will not be seen as weak!"

"You are already seen as weak aegon." Otto replied once again sending the king into a manic breakdown as he threw around more cups and vases. Otto theorised about how important it was to name Rhaenyra as a cruel person. Killer of infants, despite of whose direct orders those were. The narrative would be what they made.

"You would change, the blood that is on daemon's hand just to spite Rhaenyra." Y/n questioned, red eyes and characteristically on the verge of tears since she walked in here. Alicent found it so hard to look at her face, the cuts and bruises, poor thing. The heavy torment inside her head must be unimaginable, Alicent thought whilst holding y/n's hand a bit tighter. It felt like one of those moments when she was just a child, so many years ago. She would recall, the girl child was such a loner, always speaking in short words that is if spoken to. The shy little girl, who would just sit in a corner and colour or read. So much like her Aemond yet so different. When they would be in public settings, too many people, she would meekly hold Alicent's hand. Amongst all those unfamiliar faces. Little y/n just deemed Alicent familiar, comfortable. What was so wholesome years ago held such horror now. Alicent holding the lady's hand to provide her comfort her words won't be able to, the protection she could not. "Why won't you paint that man for the monster that he is?!" Y/n spoke as her voice broke, it felt unfair. Daemon not being held accountable yet again.

"Because, Daemon isn't the pretender to the throne. He would be the king consort. Banners are being declared for Rhaenyra, not in his name." Otto explained, to his preference narrative was just a useful toy. One name here or there did not make a difference.

"That is unfair." She said shaking her head, tears brimmed her eyes, taking in short breaths. In all these council meetings she did not speak up against Otto considering him respectable and more learned yet today, "how can you keep on accounting for him...again and again?!" Y/n asked but she was begging in agony. "Y-You were here. Always present. And you never did anything—all his heinous crimes! You always had the opportunity to hold him responsible and you did nothing!" She exclaimed, not being able to help herself as she thought back to a conversation at this very table. A conversation she must not have been there for, but the hand would have.

"It is perhaps your shock and grief speaking for you." Otto replied, not moved by the young lady's accusations at all. "I for one, do not understand your place of reference"

"When he murdered my mother!" Y/n said, growing more and more restless with her speech. Otto must be right, it was all the piled up grief inside of her speaking for her in this very moment but she could not let the monster that was her father be off the hook again, "You could've held a proper council, had him pay for what he did and we wouldn't be seeing this day today! We have that chance now and yet again you would rather Rhaenyra take the blame for his barbarism!"

Otto felt silent for a moment, the girl's rage was justified to the extent of him having no answer for her but he knew to trust his wit more, "I cannot undo...my regrets. I assure you I hold a lot of remorse in having a part in letting daemon go from daemon to the rogue prince and now this...monster. But if we don't do this, he would become king consort. The word consort is a feeble adjective." What he said was supposed to make sense to y/n but she could not see past the rage and need for vengeance she held against her father. Looking away, she wiped her tears. "A funeral progress. Let them see the child. Let them look upon the works of this pretender to the throne." Otto proposed once y/n was assuming-ly settled.

"Father" Alicent said with weary and concerned eyes, such tragedy being shouted out as a public funeral procession sounded so vain.

"My king..." Otto waited for Aegon's presumedly understood voice.

"No..." Aegon answered firmly "I will not have my little son's body dragged through the street like a dead dog." As he said that y/n felt nearly faint. To this very moment she did not accept that the child had passed.

"Not dragged, honoured." Otto corrected. "Escorted to the dragon pits to be burned as a Targaryen prince!" Otto went on and on about how he loved his grandson, his heart was in the right place with the grief yet the path he set was in accordance with the warpath. Just plots and schemes. Falling silent, paralysed y/n looked down to her lap. She refused to even register this conversation because it meant registering the fact that a darling child, Jahaerys...was gone.

Aegon couldn't stomach this proposal which came as an already arranged firm announcement either, looking around the room nobody said a word against the hand's plan. "You would say nothing?!" He demanded of y/n, why won't somebody help this mad notion. "Your dear nephew, have you nothing to add?" He was almost begging, hoping she would get the hand to change his mind for this funeral procession. She didn't, y/n just looked up at Aegon and then Alicent, tears in her eyes which just didn't seem to stop flowing. "Mother." Aegon called out when y/n couldn't speak up.

Leaving y/n's side Alicent walk's up to aegon, "the hand sets a difficult path, my darling. But it might be the right one." She told her inconsolable soul.

"Let the silent sisters ready the prince for his final journey." Otto said without waiting a moment for the king or anyone to come forth with opposition "And riding behind him, his mother the queen, the princess and the queen dowager."

"No, I do not wish to be spectacle." Alicent opposed instantly, the weariness and fright in y/n's eyes speaking the same "Especially y/n, not in this state. She can barely talk-stand, she has been terrorised. You can't simply—"

"The realm must see the sorrow of the crown. A sorrow best expressed through its gentle souls." Otto said followed by alicent sighing, then he looked at the side to y/n, "We need to display our heavily victimised as well" he said, the bleeding wounds on her face seemed like little trophies of sympathy to Otto. "I think you'll all agree the king himself must be spared."

A deafening silence lingered within Aemond, he had been out, sharpening out his swords, practising. Fucking practising on jute bags when he should've been there. Y/n was in Alicent's chambers because she could not walk into her own, couldn't even take in the sight of it. The thrashed furniture, from her struggling against the intruding gold cloak. The...the sack. In which he had stored the boy's head. Where the man had placed it in her chamber, at the entrance, it had created a circular stain of blood. Jahaerys's blood. She could not even think about the room within those four walls without picturing the insidious crime. She sat on the floor against the bed, windows open and soft white light of the day seeping in yet to y/n it still felt like a night of hailstorm. She didn't even look up to the footsteps of the stride coming inside the room, Aemond. He walked to her, kneeling down to the floor to her level.

Aemond was drenched with so much guilt in his heart, he felt pathetic to even breathe the same air as his lady wife. She had her face turned away from him, he could just see the small cuts on her face, the torn dress, still seeping out dried blood, her weary stature. It was all mortifying in the first place. He was so livid, with himself, with the intruder. Even with Larys, who informed him about the happenings at the last. By the time he rushed back inside the council was already done with. He had nothing he could say to y/n, no way of consoling her either.

It's not as if she would want to be consoled by him too, the emotional support he would want to offer her walked out with him when he walked out after their fight the previous night. With the disturbing things that had happened with her, she had almost forgotten the words he said. She couldn't even remember why she was crying before it all, that sick with grief. Aemond gently held her chin, hesitantly afraid she would turn him away. She had every right to do so. She didn't move him away, had no energy to do so. His heart sank as he saw the blood streaked stitches, poorly done and most of her wounds left untreated. "Why are these open?" He asked her softly, referring to her wounds, "Where are the maesters?"

"The hand, has asked for these to be left raw as they were planted." Y/n briefed him, her voice was so wavering, all that crying. "He means for them to be displayed for the funeral procession...so the realm can see" y/n scoffed softly as she repeated otto's exact words.

"You don't have to go." Aemond told her in a firm way, sure that he could get the hand to change his mind whether he liked it or not because y/n's comfort was his priority.

"No..." she trailed off, in agreement refraining to look at him her voice held no emotion. "But I do. I have to." She continued "Wouldn't want Haelena to be alone"

"Mother would be with her." Aemond added taking her hands in his softly, finally getting her to react to his presence as she looked down upon his gesture. Apparently to take her hands out of his grasp.

"But then I would be alone here..." She trailed off, a hint of frustration and fright in her tone. "I don't want to be alone."

"I would be with you, y/n." Aemond cooed softly fixing the loose strand of her hair, tucking it behind her ear as he leant forward. “You won’t be alone.”

"I find myself unable to put faith in you, Aemond." She breathed looking down, she felt like a cornered animal, just so scared and full of distrust. "...in your assurance. I'd rather not."

Aemond had nothing he could say to that. She did not trust the integrity of his principles and rightfully so. He knew he had broken that trust of security within her. "My heart, I apologise for the distress I have caused you. I did not mean any of it" he told her but the heaviness in his heart told him his words would change nothing. She couldn't talk either, bursting into tears and her stitches seemed to hurt because her face moved but she was so much numbed to the physical pain in comparison to how she felt inside. Aemond could just offer her his embrace in this time and that is what he did. Enlacing her into her arms, rubbing her back in soothing circles her let her cry into his chest. "They will pay for this." He muttered softly as he continued to hold her. Even with the pain he made her feel, the distrust and hurt she felt just in seeing Aemond could not let her turn away the familiarity of his comfort. His was the only comfort she had ever known.

Once again clarifying that the brothel subplot is absolutely NON EXISTENT in this fic Aemond Targaryen is a lot of things but not a cheater <333

Pls let know what you think about this + added to the tg list🫧

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novaursa · 3 months ago

Note

Good evening, can you write about daemon x little sister

If we can see their relation evolved from really protective brother to lover obsessed.

He was always protective of her, he doesn’t like that Viserys come close to her. And when she grow up he scared every men that came closed to her.

She was supposed to married a Lannister but Daemon could not accept it and take her to dragon stone. Everyone thinks she’s dead because they never see her again but when Daemon came back to King’s Landing, he’s not alone but with his sister wife and their children.

Dragonblooded

- Summary: You always belonged to Daemon. And when Viserys gave you away, the dragon took what was his.

- Paring: sister!reader/Daemon Targaryen

- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Word count: 5 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The sound of laughter echoes through corridors, a joyful melody that bounces off the ancient stone walls. You are no older than five, your golden-silver hair, so much like your mother’s, trailing behind you as you run through the hallways. Your small feet tap lightly against the cool floor, your tiny hands reaching out to grab at the air, chasing an imaginary butterfly.

"Come here, little dragon!" Viserys calls out, his voice warm and inviting, as he pretends to chase after you. His laughter is softer, more measured, but it carries the same affection that glows in his eyes. He is gentle, your eldest brother, always careful not to frighten or startle you. At ten years old, he already shows the signs of a future king—kindness, patience, a quiet strength that soothes those around him.

You turn, giggling, and reach out for him, and he catches you with ease, lifting you into the air. "I have you now!" he declares, spinning you around in circles, your peals of laughter mixing with his.

"Viserys, higher!" you plead, clinging to his tunic, your small face lighting up with glee.

But as Viserys twirls you again, you catch sight of another figure standing just beyond the doorway, watching the two of you. Daemon, your other brother, leans against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest, a frown tugging at his lips. He is only two years younger than Viserys, but where Viserys is gentle, Daemon is fierce, his eyes always smoldering with an intensity that belies his young age.

He steps forward, and though he doesn’t say a word, the air between you shifts, a tension that even you, in your youthful innocence, can sense. Viserys notices too, lowering you to the ground but keeping a protective hand on your shoulder.

"Daemon," Viserys greets, though there’s a hint of wariness in his voice. "We were just playing. You can join us, if you’d like."

Daemon’s gaze shifts from Viserys to you, and his frown deepens. "She’s my sister," he says, his voice low, almost possessive. "I don’t need your permission to play with her."

There’s a beat of silence as the two brothers stare at each other, a silent battle of wills. But before it can escalate, you tug at Daemon’s sleeve, drawing his attention down to you.

"Daemon, play with me!" you say, your eyes wide and pleading. You adore both of your brothers, but there’s something about Daemon that always draws you to him—perhaps it’s the way he looks at you, like you are the only person in the world who matters to him.

His expression softens the moment he meets your gaze. The hard lines of his face melt into something gentler, something only you seem to bring out in him. Without a word, he scoops you up into his arms, holding you close. You wrap your arms around his neck, resting your head against his shoulder, and he presses a kiss to your temple.

"She’s tired," Daemon announces, his voice brooking no argument as he starts to carry you away. You peek over his shoulder at Viserys, who watches with a resigned smile.

"I was only playing with her," Viserys says, but there’s a note of understanding in his tone, an acknowledgment of something that has always been between you and Daemon—something he will never quite share with you in the same way.

Daemon doesn’t respond, his attention solely on you as he carries you through the halls. His grip on you is firm but gentle, his warmth seeping through his clothes and into your small frame. You yawn, your eyelids growing heavy, and snuggle closer to him.

"Rest now, little sister," Daemon whispers, his voice soft in a way it never is with anyone else. "I’ll always keep you safe."

And in that moment, as sleep begins to claim you, you know it’s true. You may be Viserys’ beloved little sister, the youngest and most cherished of the Targaryen children, but you are Daemon’s before all else. In his arms, you feel safe, loved, and most of all, his.

The years have passed, and you have grown from a spirited child into a young woman of striking beauty. Your silver-gold hair cascades down your back in soft waves, your violet eyes—so reminiscent of the Valyrian ancestors—shining with a quiet intelligence. Your resemblance to your mother, Alyssa, is so uncanny that it often leaves those who knew her breathless, lost in memories of the past. You are the pride of House Targaryen, a true dragon in both blood and spirit.

The lords of the realm have taken notice of you, their eyes lingering a bit too long as you walk through the halls of the Red Keep. Whispers of your beauty have spread across the Seven Kingdoms, and it seems that every highborn man with a title to his name seeks your hand in marriage. The attention is overwhelming, though you do your best to remain composed, as you were taught. Still, you cannot ignore the way your heart flutters with nerves when you catch their lingering gazes.

Today, you find yourself in the gardens of the Red Keep, the sun casting a warm glow over the roses in bloom. You stroll through the maze of greenery, the scent of flowers filling the air, when you hear the soft murmur of voices behind you.

"My lady, you are a vision," one of the young lords says as he approaches, his tone smooth and rehearsed. He is tall, with dark hair and a confident smile that seems to have charmed many a court lady.

"Lord Caron," you greet him politely, inclining your head. "You are too kind."

"I speak only the truth," he insists, stepping closer. "You grow lovelier with each passing day, my lady. The realm is fortunate to have you."

You offer a tight-lipped smile, trying to mask your discomfort. Though you are used to such flattery, it always feels hollow, lacking the warmth and sincerity you crave.

Before you can respond, you feel a familiar presence behind you, a shadow that has always loomed large in your life. Daemon steps forward, his eyes cold as they fix on Lord Caron. There is a tension in his posture, a barely restrained fury that makes the young lord falter, his confident smile wavering.

"Lord Caron," Daemon says, his voice a low rumble, "I believe my sister has endured enough of the sun today. She is in need of rest."

Lord Caron glances between the two of you, clearly weighing his options. But the sharpness in Daemon’s gaze leaves little room for argument. He bows stiffly, offering you one last smile before he retreats, his footsteps hurried as he leaves the garden.

As soon as he is gone, Daemon turns to you, his expression dark and unreadable. "You shouldn’t be out here alone," he chides, though there is an edge to his voice that you have rarely heard before.

"I wasn’t alone," you reply, meeting his gaze evenly. "And I can take care of myself, Daemon. I’m not a child anymore."

His eyes narrow slightly at your words, as if the thought displeases him. "You think I don’t know that?" he mutters, his gaze sweeping over you. "I see the way they look at you—the way they covet you. They are like vultures circling above a feast."

You blink, surprised by the venom in his tone. "They are only being polite," you say, though even as you say it, you know it’s more than that. The attention you receive is not just polite—it is predatory, something you have tried to ignore but cannot entirely dismiss.

"Polite," Daemon scoffs, taking a step closer to you. His presence is overwhelming, a mix of anger and something else that you can’t quite place. "They want to marry you, to own you, to take you away from me."

You look up at him, your heart skipping a beat at the intensity in his eyes. "Daemon, I’m not a possession," you say softly, though your voice wavers slightly. "I will marry one day, and when I do, it will be my choice."

His jaw clenches, and for a moment, he says nothing. The silence stretches between you, heavy and charged, until finally, he speaks, his voice low and dangerous. "No man will ever be worthy of you. No man will ever deserve you. You are mine, and I will not let them take you from me."

You stare at him, your breath catching in your throat at his words. The possessiveness in his voice, the raw intensity of his emotions—it’s more than just a brotherly concern. There is something deeper, something darker that simmers beneath the surface, and it both frightens and intrigues you.

"Daemon…" you begin, but he cuts you off, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. The touch is surprisingly gentle, his thumb brushing over your skin as if he’s memorizing the feel of you.

"You are my sister," he says, his voice rough with emotion. "You are the only person in this world who matters to me. I will not let anyone take you away, not Viserys, not any of those lords who think they can lay claim to you."

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you find yourself leaning into his touch, despite the confusion swirling in your mind. "I am not leaving you," you whisper, your voice barely audible. "But Daemon… this is not—"

"Don’t," he interrupts, his thumb pressing lightly against your lips to silence you. "Don’t say anything that will ruin this moment."

His eyes bore into yours, and you feel a heat rising between you, a dangerous pull that you know you should resist but can’t. Daemon has always been the center of your world, but now, you realize, he is something more, something that both terrifies and excites you.

For a long moment, the world seems to stop, and it’s just the two of you, standing in the garden, the air thick with unspoken words and forbidden desires. Then, as if sensing your hesitation, Daemon leans down, his lips brushing against your forehead in a gesture that is both tender and possessive.

"I will always protect you," he vows, his breath warm against your skin. "No one else will ever come between us."

And as he pulls away, you find yourself nodding, unable to voice the turmoil inside you. Because deep down, you know that what he says is true—you are his, and in some twisted, inevitable way, he is yours as well.

The wind howls around the towering battlements of Casterly Rock, the seat of House Lannister. Below, the sea crashes against the cliffs, the waves like thunder as they break upon the ancient stone. You stand on a high balcony overlooking the expanse, your heart heavy with the weight of what is to come. The golden light of the setting sun casts long shadows, and though the view is breathtaking, you find no solace in it.

The marriage to Jason Lannister had been arranged swiftly, a decision made by Viserys in a moment of political strategy. It had all happened so fast—one moment you were in King’s Landing, the next you were being sent across the realm, far from the comforts of your home, and even further from Daemon.

Jason Lannister is a man of means, a wealthy and powerful lord, but he is not the man your heart longs for. Despite his handsome features and polite demeanor, he leaves you cold. You do not love him, nor do you wish to, but the weight of your duty had left you with little choice but to obey your brother’s command.

Tonight is to be your wedding night, a thought that fills you with dread. The thought of sharing your bed with a man who is a stranger to you, despite his politeness and charm, makes your skin crawl. You had always imagined your wedding night to be something sacred, shared with someone you truly loved—someone like Daemon. But such dreams seem so far away now.

As you clutch the stone railing of the balcony, you hear the faintest sound of wings cutting through the air. At first, you think it’s your imagination, a product of your desperate longing. But then the sound grows louder, more distinct, and your heart begins to race.

In the distance, you see it—Caraxes, the Blood Wyrm, his massive wings beating against the darkening sky, his crimson scales gleaming like fire in the dying light. On his back, you spot a figure clad in black and red, his silver hair streaming behind him like a banner. Daemon.

He’s come for you.

Your breath catches in your throat as you watch him descend, the great dragon’s roar echoing through the air as he nears the fortress. Panic and excitement mix within you—Daemon, your beloved brother, has come to take you away, to rescue you from a life you never wanted.

Caraxes lands with a deafening thud in the courtyard below, his long neck arched as he lets out another earth-shaking roar. The guards and servants scatter in fear, unprepared for such a display of raw power. You waste no time, gathering your skirts and racing down the steps toward the courtyard, your heart pounding in your chest.

By the time you reach the courtyard, Daemon has dismounted, his presence commanding as he strides forward with purpose. He looks every bit the rogue prince, his eyes alight with determination and something far more dangerous. He spots you immediately, his expression softening for just a moment before hardening once more as he glances at the keep behind you.

"Daemon!" you cry out, rushing toward him. He catches you easily, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace that makes you feel safer than you have in weeks. The scent of him—salt, leather, and dragonfire—fills your senses, and you cling to him as if he were the only thing keeping you tethered to this world.

"I’ve come to take you away," he murmurs into your ear, his voice rough with emotion. "You belong to me, not to some Lannister dog."

You pull back slightly, searching his face, your own heart torn between relief and fear. "Viserys… he ordered this marriage. He’ll be furious if you—"

"Let him be furious," Daemon interrupts, his eyes blazing. "You are mine, not his to give away. We will go to Dragonstone, and we will marry in the traditions of our House. Fire and blood—that is our way, not these weak southern bonds."

Before you can respond, you hear the clattering of armored boots and turn to see Jason Lannister approaching, flanked by a dozen guards. His face is pale, though he tries to maintain a confident air as he confronts Daemon.

"Prince Daemon," Jason says, his voice steady but laced with underlying fear. "This is madness. She is to be my wife by order of the king. You cannot simply take her."

Daemon’s lips curl into a dangerous smile, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of Dark Sister, the Valyrian steel sword that has tasted the blood of many a fool. "Can’t I?" he says, his tone mocking. "You think to keep her here, hidden away in this golden cage? You think she will ever be yours, truly yours? You’re a fool, Lannister."

Jason stiffens, but to his credit, he doesn’t back down. "This will bring war," he warns. "If you take her, Viserys will have no choice but to act. The realm will not stand for this."

Daemon laughs, the sound dark and menacing. "Let the realm do as it will. I’ve never cared for the opinions of sheep. You think you can threaten me with war, boy? I am war. I have fought in battles you cannot even imagine. And if it’s bloodshed you seek, I will gladly spill it."

Jason falters, his bravado crumbling under Daemon’s intense gaze. "I…I only seek what was promised to me," he stammers, clearly trying to find a way out that doesn’t end with his blood staining the courtyard. "If you take her, I will not pursue her. But I will require compensation for this slight. The Lannisters will not be insulted without recompense."

Daemon’s eyes narrow, and for a moment, you fear he might draw Dark Sister and end Jason’s life right then and there. But instead, he takes a step closer to the lord, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

"You dare to speak of recompense?" he hisses, his face inches from Jason’s. "She is worth more than all the gold in Casterly Rock, more than your entire house. There is no recompense for what you tried to steal from me. But I will leave you your life, if only because I have more important matters to attend to."

Jason’s face drains of color, and he takes a stumbling step back, nodding quickly. "Yes… yes, of course. Take her, and may the gods be with you."

Daemon doesn’t spare him another glance. Instead, he turns to you, his expression softening as he reaches out to take your hand. "Come, sister," he says, his voice gentler now. "Let us leave this place. We will wed on Dragonstone, and no one will ever come between us again."

You nod, your heart swelling with a mix of relief and trepidation. Daemon leads you toward Caraxes, his grip on your hand firm and reassuring. The dragon lowers his massive head as you approach, and with Daemon’s help, you climb onto his back, settling in behind your brother.

As Caraxes takes to the sky, the wind whipping through your hair, you cling to Daemon, feeling the power of the dragon beneath you and the warmth of your brother in front of you. The world below falls away, and with it, the fear and uncertainty that had plagued you for so long.

As the Red Keep disappears into the distance, you lean close to Daemon, your voice barely a whisper. "Thank you for coming for me."

He turns his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a fierce intensity. "I will always come for you," he vows, his voice full of conviction. "You are mine, and I will never let you go."

And as you soar through the skies on the back of the Blood Wyrm, leaving Casterly Rock and all its golden confines behind, you know that he means every word. The path ahead may be fraught with danger, but as long as you are by Daemon’s side, you are willing to face whatever comes.

For you are his, and he is yours, bound by blood and fire, as it was always meant to be.

The tourney grounds outside King’s Landing are alive, a sea of banners fluttering in the wind, each representing the great houses of Westeros. The air is full of the scent of sweat, horses, and the faint metallic tang of freshly forged steel. The tournament held in honor of the impending birth of Viserys' child has drawn knights and lords from across the realm, all eager to witness the splendor and skill of the finest warriors in the Seven Kingdoms.

King Viserys himself sits upon the royal dais, a smile of pride and expectation on his face. He has every reason to be joyous today—the maesters have assured him that this time, his wife Aemma will deliver a son, a true heir to the Iron Throne. But there is an undercurrent of unease in the king’s heart, a shadow that lingers at the edges of his happiness, for it has been years since he last saw his beloved sister.

Not a word has come from Dragonstone since that fateful day when Daemon stole you away, defying the king’s will and igniting a scandal that has only grown with time. Rumors have spread like wildfire, each one more outlandish than the last—tales of dark rituals, of dragons terrorizing the Narrow Sea, and of a brood of Targaryen children raised in exile, far from the eyes of the court. But none of these rumors have ever been confirmed, and Viserys has learned to silence any mention of you in his presence, the wound too deep to bear reopening.

As the king watches the jousting field, his thoughts drift to you, wondering where you are, how you have fared all these years. He tries to push the thoughts away, focusing instead on the spectacle before him. But then, a murmur runs through the crowd, growing louder as the people begin to turn their heads toward the sky.

Viserys follows their gaze, and his breath catches in his throat.

There, descending from the clouds, is a dragon—its great wings casting a shadow over the tourney grounds as it circles above. The creature’s scales shimmer a deep, blood-red, and its roar is like the rumble of distant thunder. There is no mistaking the beast or its rider.

"Caraxes," Viserys whispers, a mix of shock and something else—something like hope—rising in his chest.

The dragon lands with a thud just beyond the field, the earth trembling beneath its weight. The crowds part, a mixture of awe and fear on their faces as Daemon Targaryen dismounts from the dragon’s back, his presence as commanding as ever. His silver hair, untouched by time, glints in the sunlight, and his dark cloak billows around him like wings as he strides forward.

But it is not Daemon alone who captures the attention of the gathered lords and ladies. For behind him, gracefully descending from Caraxes, is a figure draped in black and red, a crown of silver-gold hair flowing down her back—you.

Gasps ripple through the crowd as they recognize you, their whispers growing into a chorus of disbelief and astonishment. But you pay them no mind, your eyes fixed solely on the dais where your brother, the king, sits in stunned silence.

You walk toward him with the poise of a queen, your hand resting protectively on the head of a small boy who clings to your side. His hair is a pale silver, much like yours and Daemon’s, his eyes wide with curiosity as he takes in the spectacle around him. Another child—a girl with your likeness—follows close behind, holding onto Daemon’s hand with an air of confidence that belies her young age.

When you finally reach the dais, the entire tourney ground has fallen silent, all eyes on this reunion that none had expected. Viserys rises from his seat, his face a mask of disbelief, his hands trembling as he reaches out toward you.

"Sister," he breathes, his voice thick with emotion. "Is it truly you?"

You nod, your eyes meeting his with a mixture of longing and caution. "It is I, brother," you reply, your voice soft but steady. "I have returned."

Viserys hesitates, his gaze shifting to Daemon, who stands beside you, his expression unreadable. The king’s eyes then fall to the children, and his heart twists with a sudden, overwhelming mixture of emotions—joy, sorrow, anger, and relief all at once.

"And these…" Viserys begins, his voice faltering as he looks at the boy and girl, "are your children?"

"Our children," Daemon corrects, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. There is a proud, possessive note in his tone as he looks at you and the children, as if daring anyone to challenge his claim.

The boy, sensing the attention on him, steps forward, his small chest puffed out with pride. "I am Aegon," he announces, his voice clear and strong. "Aegon of House Targaryen."

"And I am Rhaella," the girl adds, her violet eyes sparkling with the same fierce determination that burns in Daemon’s. "Daughter of Prince Daemon and Princess Y/N."

Viserys looks at them, his eyes filling with tears he can barely contain. "Aegon… Rhaella…" he murmurs, reaching out a hand to them. "My niece and nephew."

But before he can take another step, Jason Lannister, who had been standing nearby, watching the scene unfold with barely concealed anger, speaks up. "This is an outrage!" he exclaims, his voice carrying across the silent grounds. "This man stole the king’s sister and has kept her in exile for years, and now he parades her and their bastards before us as if we should welcome them!"

A hush falls over the crowd, tension crackling in the air like a storm about to break. Daemon’s gaze snaps to Jason, his eyes narrowing into slits of cold fury. He releases Rhaella’s hand and steps forward, every inch the dragon that he is, his hand resting on the hilt of Dark Sister.

"You dare speak of my children in such a way?" Daemon’s voice is deadly quiet, each word laced with barely restrained rage. "You, who couldn’t even keep what was never yours?"

Jason’s bravado falters, but he presses on, his pride wounded. "They are illegitimate! Faith of the Seven doesn't acknowledge such unions!"

Daemon’s lips curl into a predatory smile, and in one swift motion, he draws Dark Sister, the Valyrian steel blade gleaming wickedly in the sunlight. He moves with the deadly grace of a seasoned warrior, closing the distance between himself and Jason in the blink of an eye.

"Speak another word," Daemon hisses, the tip of his blade hovering just above Jason’s throat, "and it will be your last."

Jason freezes, the color draining from his face as he stares into the eyes of the rogue prince. The crowd watches in breathless silence, the tension palpable. You can feel the eyes of everyone on you, but your focus is on Daemon, on the way his hand steadies, his grip sure and unwavering.

"Daemon," you say softly, taking a step forward. Your voice, gentle yet firm, cuts through the tension. "He is not worth it."

For a moment, it seems as if Daemon might ignore you, might spill blood here and now just to make his point. But then, slowly, he lowers the blade, his eyes never leaving Jason’s terrified face.

"Remember this, Lannister," Daemon says, his voice low and menacing. "The next time you speak ill of my wife or my children, I will not be so merciful."

With that, he sheathes Dark Sister and turns away from Jason, dismissing him as if he were nothing more than an insect. The Lannister lord stumbles back, pale and shaken, and quickly retreats, disappearing into the crowd.

Viserys watches all of this in stunned silence, his eyes wide as he takes in the scene before him. When Daemon turns back to you, his expression softens, and he takes your hand in his, pulling you close.

"We are here now, brother," Daemon says, his tone more measured. "We are family, and nothing will change that. Not time, not distance, and certainly not the words of a fool like Jason Lannister."

Viserys looks at you, his eyes searching yours for answers, for reassurance. "Why now, sister? After all these years… why return now?"

You look at him, feeling the weight of all that has passed between you, the distance that had grown and the love that had remained. "Because I could not stay away forever," you say softly. "Because you are my brother, and I have missed you every day. And because our children deserve to know their family."

Viserys steps forward, pulling you into an embrace that is both warm and desperate, as if he fears letting you go again. "I have missed you too," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "More than you could ever know."

Daemon watches the two of you, his eyes flicking between you and Viserys. For a moment, you see something unguarded in his expression—something like relief, though quickly masked by his usual aloofness.

"Let this day be a new beginning," Viserys says, finally pulling back and looking at Daemon, his tone almost pleading. "For all of us. Stay in King’s Landing. Be at my side. Let us be a family again."

Daemon’s eyes harden slightly, as if considering the weight of Viserys’ words. He glances at you, searching your face for any sign of what you might want, what you might ask of him in this moment. For years, you have been his anchor, the one person he would follow anywhere, the one person whose opinion could sway him.

You meet his gaze, and though your heart swells at the thought of reuniting with Viserys, of your children growing up surrounded by family, you know what Daemon is feeling. King’s Landing has never been kind to him. It has always been a place of politics, betrayal, and intrigue, a place that tried to mold him into something he was not. And yet, the desire for peace between the brothers, for some semblance of family, tugs at you.

Daemon’s grip on your hand tightens slightly, and he turns his attention back to Viserys. "You speak of family, brother," Daemon says, his voice carefully controlled, "but it was you who sent your own blood away, who sought to wed her to another man against her will."

Viserys winces at the memory, guilt flashing across his face. "I made a mistake," he admits, his voice pained. "One I have regretted every day since. I thought I was doing what was best for the realm, for our family. But I see now that I was wrong."

Daemon’s expression remains inscrutable, but the tension in his posture seems to ease slightly. "And now you want us to stay," he says, not quite a question, but more of a challenge.

"Yes," Viserys replies earnestly, stepping closer to you both. "Stay. Let us rebuild what was broken. You are my brother, and she is my sister. We should stand together, not apart."

You feel the weight of the moment pressing down on you, the air thick with the potential for reconciliation—or for more conflict. You squeeze Daemon’s hand, hoping to communicate your own longing for peace, for a life where your children can grow up knowing their uncle, their heritage, without the constant threat of exile hanging over them.

Daemon glances at you, his eyes softening as he reads the unspoken plea in your gaze. He exhales slowly, as if releasing a great burden, and finally nods, a small but significant gesture.

"We will stay," Daemon says, his tone firm but not without warmth. "But make no mistake, Viserys—I will not be made a tool in anyone’s game, not even yours. We come as equals, or not at all."

Viserys nods, relief washing over him. "Equals," he agrees, his voice thick with gratitude. "As it should be."

The tension that has hung over the tourney grounds like a storm cloud begins to dissipate, the atmosphere lightening as the onlookers realize that the confrontation they feared will not come to pass. Instead, there is a sense of awe, of history in the making, as they witness the reconciliation of the Targaryen siblings.

The children, sensing the change, tug at your hands, their eyes wide with curiosity and excitement. "Will we stay here, Mother?" Rhaella asks, her voice full of wonder. "In the big castle?"

You smile down at her, brushing a strand of silver hair from her face. "Yes, my love," you say gently. "We will stay, and you will have your uncle Viserys and many others to meet."

Aegon’s eyes light up, his young mind already racing with possibilities. "And will we get to see the Iron Throne? Will we be able to ride our dragons here?"

Viserys, hearing the boy’s excitement, kneels down to their level, a warm smile spreading across his face. "You will see the Iron Throne, and much more," he promises, his voice full of affection. "You are both of the blood of the dragon, and this is your home as much as it is mine."

Daemon watches the interaction closely, a flicker of something like contentment in his eyes as he sees Viserys embrace his role as uncle. There is still wariness in him, a reluctance to fully trust after so many years of betrayal and bitterness, but there is also a sliver of hope, kindled by the presence of his children and the woman he loves.

As you and Daemon stand beside Viserys, the king rises and takes both of your hands in his, his eyes shining with the beginnings of tears. "Thank you for coming back," he whispers, his voice full of emotion. "Thank you for giving me a chance to make things right."

You nod, squeezing his hand gently. "We are family, Viserys," you say softly. "And family is worth fighting for."

Daemon, ever the rogue prince, adds with a smirk, "Just remember, brother, that dragons cannot be tamed. We are here because we choose to be, not because we must."

Viserys chuckles, a sound full of warmth and brotherly affection. "I wouldn’t have it any other way," he says, pulling you both into a rare embrace that speaks of years of lost time and the possibility of a future where the Targaryens stand united once more.

As the sun sets over King’s Landing, casting the tourney grounds in hues of gold and crimson, the three of you—Daemon, you, and Viserys—stand together, a family reunited at last. And though the path ahead may be uncertain, for this moment, there is peace, and there is hope, both of which have been hard-won.

And as you look at the faces of your children, who gaze upon the world with wonder and excitement, you dare to believe that this peace might just last—if only for a little while.

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd daemon #hotd x female reader #hotd x y/n #hotd x reader #hotd x you #daemon targeryen x reader #daemon x you #daemon x y/n #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen

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leth-writes · 3 months ago

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hotd x oblivious reader

I’m thinking about a reader who’s kinda oblivious. They aren’t super aware of everything going on around them, they’re just confused as to why no one is getting along.

You’re really close with both team black and green, to the point that they’re fighting over you, but you’re not even aware of the actual conflict; you just think it’s petty interpersonal drama.

They’re over in the corner threatening each other with dragons and swords and you’re just… hanging out with Helaena, looking at butterflies and asking to pet her dragon.

the second you express interest in the dragons, there’s practically a line; you’re the most nervous with Daemon and Aemond’s dragons, for obvious reasons given their reputation, but Luke has a pretty small dragon so you grow closer to him through that. Rather than the size of the castle, Arrax is about the size of a particularly large horse, or maybe a big bear. More manageable when you know they can’t swallow you in one bite.

This drives a wedge further between Aemond and Luke, with Aemond outright glaring every time he so much as catches a glimpse at Luke. Not only did he take his eye, now he’s taking a bonding opportunity out from under her?! He’s pissed and challenges him to a duel. You still think it’s all fun and games, and you’re cheering for both of them, and they’re both trying to fucking kill each other, it’s pretty intense.

no matter who wins, you’re ecstatic, and you hug them both and kiss them both on the cheek. The blush that blooms on their faces and the almost goofy smiles that stretch across their cheeks are perhaps the only thing they’ve had in common in years.

Aemond totally uses his injury to ingratiate himself with you. It makes you feel bad for him, and while he doesn’t normally want pity, he’s fine using it to his advantage. Once Luke is out of the way, he reckons, he’ll be able to reveal his true self slowly over time.

Daemon’s also pretty likely to get into physical fights, though he sues his silver tongue to make you blush just as often. He really is quite sly, and he’s the only one to outright proposition you. He’ll get Jace to take you out for a night in the town, slowly working their way to the brothels, trying to sully your reputation just far enough that you’ll have to marry him. It worked for Daemon, after all, and he just wants you connected to him. He’s fully aware that he’s not going to be able to live without you. Having you tied to Jace is just the perfect way to keep you close.

Rhaenyra is also taking advantage of your oblivious and gullible nature. She definitely tries to take advantage of the fact that you aren’t able to catch on to her true intentions. She’s convinced you to cuddle with her by telling you she’s too cold, and that Daemon’s too busy, and you felt so bad for her you were totally willing.

She’s more straightforward, pushing Jace to try to court you. He’s fighting off any of your various suitors, and anyone who is trying to take advantage of your obliviousness to secure a connection to the family.

You’re targeted by people from all over, mainly because of your close bonds to the various members of the nobility. Everyone has to work together to keep you safe when it’s announced you’re willing to court some random lord. You think you’re in love, they need to convince you otherwise.

Daemon immediately gets to work sullying the reputation of that lord. Then, he murders them. He’s not above paying a prostitute to seduce them in a place where you catch the two of them in the act, ravaging your heart.

Aemond and Jace both try to step into that void. Aemond, who takes a slightly more subtle approach, asking you to ride on Vhagar, fails; Jace, under the advice of Rhaenyra, takes a more direct approach and is able to begin dating you.

Alicent practically loses it, seeing her child so defiled by Rhaenyra’s child. She’s trying to convince you to marry Aemond or Aegon instead. Aegon shows up naked in your room; you can’t miss that clue, after all. It doesn’t work, you’re convinced he just mistook your room for his. Your rooms look nothing alike, but Aegon’s too charmed to even mention it.

Finally, Otto steps in to prevent Alicent from snapping and attacking someone. He’s not willing to let his precious grandchild fall into the hands of one of Rhaenyra’s bastards, after all.

Viserys is informed, even on his deathbed, that you should be married to Aemond. It’s to secure the familial line, after all, and your children will surely be strong and loved, the perfect combination.

So, he announces that you will be married to Aemond, breaking your relationship to Jace. Jace is heartbroken, Rhaenyra and Daemon are ready to burn the castle to the ground.

Thus begins the fight of the century.

#yandere hotd #yandere aemond targaryen #yandere rhaenyra targaryen #yandere jacaerys velaryon #yandere aegon x reader #yander daemon targaryen #lethwrites #yandere alicent hightower

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drakaripykiros130ac · 7 months ago

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People are so insensitive when it comes to Rhaenyra’s situation. I have never seen so much cruelty directed towards a girl who was put between a rock and a hard place.

You all are acting as though Rhaenyra’s goal in life was to cheat on Laenor and undermine the Velaryons, her allies and her kin. She didn’t sleep around with the purpose of getting back at her husband and having children with other men out of spite (she’s not Cersei).

Rhaenyra was forced into marriage with a gay man and expected to produce heirs not only for the Iron Throne but also for Driftmark. So, an heir and a spare for House Targaryen. Another heir and another spare for House Velaryon. Four children (preferably sons) were expected from her womb. Good luck with that.

Let’s suppose that the rumors are true and Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey are not Laenor’s. Rhaenyra’s decision to have children with another man should be less criticized, and regarded with more sympathy. She couldn’t spend her entire marriage life to Laenor without having children. Her “suitable” options were these:

1. Remain childless and let herself, the Princess of Dragonstone and Heir to the Throne, be called barren.

2. Demand an annulment by exposing Laenor’s nature (confirming the rumors), and not only humiliating House Velaryon (her allies) but also putting the succession of Driftmark into question (since Laenor was Corlys’ only son and his chosen heir).

At a time when a faction of snakes was constantly nipping at her heels, either one of these options would have left Rhaenyra vulnerable at Court.

She took matters into her own hands and had children with another man. And not just another man. This was a man she could trust, her sworn shield, a man who cared for her and who would never betray her (it’s hard to find someone like that).

To claim that she should have chosen a Valyrian (as though the options are unlimited) is extremely superficial. For this to work, she needed someone trustworthy, someone who would not attempt to claim the children later on. We all know that Daemon would have been the best option for her. She loved him, he was Valyrian and her ally. But alas, with his own marriage and life away from Court, it wasn’t really possible. And I am not really sure if Daemon would have been okay with another man laying claim to his children (that is up for debate).

Rhaenyra preferred a man who was trustworthy over a man with the “correct” features. The chances were 50/50 that the children would look like her, and unfortunately, they didn’t. That’s that.

Laenor and Corlys accepted the situation, because they understood what it would cost them all if they didn’t. This whole thing was on their heads. They provided the heir to the throne with a husband incapable of reproducing. It was not Rhaenyra’s fault.

As such, the children were recognized as Velaryons by the father (Laenor), the Lord of Driftmark (Corlys) and the King (Viserys). And these are the only opinions which matter. No one can prove that the boys didn’t inherit Baratheon and/or Arryn genes. Legally, Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey are the sons of Rhaenyra and Laenor.

When it comes to the Iron Throne, it doesn’t matter who fathered Rhaenyra’s children, as long as they are hers. She is the ruling Queen. And we have no way of knowing how things would have gone down after Rhaenyra became Queen. Daemon had two sons of his own. He could have managed to convince Rhaenyra to acknowledge Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey as bastards and then legitimize them, since she has the power to do so. If the boys wouldn’t have been accepted by the Realm (unlikely), there is also the possibility that Rhaenyra could have decided to pass the succession to her and Daemon’s children. Rhaenyra had legitimate heirs who could have taken the throne after her death.

As for Driftmark, despite greedy Vaemond’s ramblings, the succession was just fine. The Velaryon line would have continued through the marriage between Lucerys and Rhaena.

Lucerys had the Velaryon name and Rhaena had the Velaryon blood. Their children would have had the Velaryon name and blood. Problem solved.

People need to stop acting as through Vaemond was some sort of crusader, demanding “justice” for his House. He was just as much of an upstart as the Hightowers and he wanted to take Corlys’ power for himself, and so he took advantage of some rumors to discredit Rhaenyra’s children and advance himself.

Things are not black and white, and given Rhaenyra’s nearly impossible situation, exceptions can be made. And these exceptions wouldn’t have affected neither the succession of Driftmark nor that of the Seven Kingdoms.

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starogeorgina · 2 months ago

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𝐔𝐧𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧

Paring: Aemond Targaryen × Targaryen reader, minor Daemon Targaryen × Targaryen reader

Warnings: Smut, swearing, violence, blood, incest, major character death, cruel Daemon

1.04

Holding Daenys close, you breathe in the sweet smell from the back of her head, a thick mop of silver hair tickling your nose. She was freshly bathed, and I wouldn’t be long until she was asleep. Jacaerys holds up a toy that belongs to one of his brothers that makes a rattling sound, and Daenys takes it into her chubby hand and starts shaking it, causing you both to smile.

She was so pure and innocent, just as Jace and his brothers are.

“I don’t understand, so it was part of your plan?”

“Yes,” Jace whispers. “I’m letting Daemon believe the greens are going north so that he is distracted.”

For so long the two sides of your family were pitted against each other, mainly by your own mothers doing, but seeing Jacaerys eyes gloss over as she holds tightly onto a toy seahorse that you’d seen Lucerys play with years ago saddens you. All he wanted was his brother back. It wasn’t something you could do, but perhaps you could help protect his three other brothers.

“Tis a clever move.” With your free hand, you squeeze his arm. “Hopefully it will keep him occupied enough for my plan to work.”

In a low voice, Jace asks, “Do you think he will be kinder now that you are with child?”

“The noose around my neck may be loosened, but I'm not yet free of it.” You rest your palm against your stomach; the evidence of Daemon’s seed taking root was yet to show. “If something goes wrong, it will be my sweet girl who pays the price, not me. I need to keep her safe.”

You had thought long and hard about the best way to protect your daughter and unborn child, and you saw no other solution than to kill Daemon.

—

The castle had a stillness to it that you did not like; it makes you feel on edge. Dressed in nothing but a nightgown and thin robe, you walk the empty halls feeling nothing more than a little mouse being hunted by a lion, knowing at any moment Daemon would appear; he was like a creature from a storybook, always lurking and hiding within shadows and corners of the magnificent fortress.

Your location inside the castle was impregnable.

If Aemond flew in on his dragon with a hundred men in tow, it would take far too long for them to find you.

Humming you round a corner that leads back towards the royal chambers you have been placed in and head footsteps echoing in the distance.

You stop, it stops.

Taking a deep breath, you hold your position and remain standing in the same spot, trying to listen and guess how close he is, but even still, you are taken aback when you feel Daemon’s hot breath hitting the tip of your spine.

“You shouldn’t be wandering the halls alone at this time.”

You wait a beat before turning to face him. “I could not find sleep.”

“Why?” He frowns. “Do you feel unwell?”

“N…no, just a little warm.”

“Then sleep naked,” he snaps. He spins you so you face the door into your chambers and starts guiding you towards it. “I will not have you risk my child’s safety because of the weather.”

“I’m uncomfortable,” you pout. “You don’t understand the frustrations that come from being in my condition.”

“I don’t recall either of my wives ever being this dramatic.” He shoves you inside the room and slams the door shut, causing Daenys to stir. “If you continue behaving this way, I will have you thrown into the dungeon and chained to the wall until the babe is ripped from your arms or womb.”

Ignoring him, you meet the terrified handmaid's gaze and go over to her and take Daenys from her, cuddling her in an attempt to stop her from whining. Poor little girl. The loud noise frightened her. “Please, Daemon,” you say between kissing your crying daughter's cheek. “None of it needs to be this way. Let us go home. This is not what Rhaenyra would want.”

This was the moment; Daemon’s answer would be the final decider of what happens next.

Daemon grips your jaw between his fingers. His voice is laced with venom. “You’re nothing but a spoiled cunt.”

“Ella,” stepping back, you turn to the handmaiden. “Can you please take her to the nursery?”

It pains you to hand Daenys over, but she couldn’t be in the room for much longer. You knew Daemon too well and knew exactly how to rile him up and when to strike. The prince was taller, stronger, and dare you even think it, but he is probably smarter than you, so you’d need to make him vulnerable.

Soon as the door closes, you push against his chest, “You’re a twisted old man.”

“Yet you crave me.”

Without removing your hand from his chest, you scoff, “Excuse me?”

“You may hate me, but you are intrigued. Infatuated.”

Groaning, you lean into him, letting your nose brush against his neck. “I’m not infatuated; I just become... needy while pregnant.”

“You’re no better than a whore in a brothel craving my cock for a coin,” he pinches your nipple. “Perhaps once the babe is born, I’ll put you to work in a whorehouse; depraved men will pay a lot for a silver-haired bitch."

You flinch at his words.

“What are you waiting for, niece? Remove your clothes and go lay on the bed.”

—

God, you hated this man.

Daemon grunted beneath you as you moved your hips up and down, feeling disgusted as Daemon stretched you out. It had taken the prince some time before finally letting you go on top. You kept repeating that it was all a means to an end to yourself. Daemon was only weak and vulnerable after sex; he could go for hours before being overcome by tiredness.

You lean down so your breasts are swaying in his face, and as expected, he turns his attention to them. He takes a hardened nipple into his mouth while growling at your other breast.

Your arms are strained as you place your hands on either side of the pillow beside his head. Time was everything; you’d never win one-on-one combat, so you needed to play dirty to survive. A niggling doubt was lingering in the back of your head, but then you think of how much physical and emotional pain the prince had caused you, all the bruises left on your body. You needed to do this, no matter how big a sin it was.

The second Daemon closes his eyes, your fingers tighten around the blade hidden underneath the pillow, just Daemon’s head, and in a blink of an eye, you slash his throat.

His hands immediately go to his throat, attempting to stop the blood from pouring. His voice is gargled, “fucking cunt!”

Crying out, you jump from the bed and scramble to throw the nightgown back on, and at the same time, Daemon falls from the bed. Not wanting to find out if the cut was deep enough, you run away, leaving the man who tortured you to die alone.

—

“Jacaerys!”

It was of no surprise to you that your nephew was waiting in the nursery; he knew you had a plan, just not what it included. The second his dark eyes land on you, he looks as if he’s going to vomit. Daemons blood coating your body had soaked through to your nightgown.

“I don’t have long,” tears stream down your cheeks. “We need to go.”

“You cannot leave dressed like that.” He was trying to be brave, but his voice was cracking. He looks at the handmaid who was shaking and says, “Bring the princess a pair of my mother's shoes and cloak, quickly. Do not mention what you have heard or seen to anyone.”

She scurries off to do as the prince says. Your heart rattles in your chest; how long would it be until someone discovers what you have done?

—

Sand fills your shoes as you make your way along the beach towards King's landing. The sun was now starting to rise, and it wouldn’t be long until someone spotted a silver-haired princess covered in blood carrying a crying babe.

The closer you were, the louder you could hear Stardust’s cries. You presume she was currently in the dragonpit; otherwise, she would have flown straight to you. The bond between dragon and rider was strong, and you just knew Stardust would be able to sense you.

Jacaerys wanted to stay with you, but you begged him to fly home while it was still dark. The last thing you wanted was for Vhagar to appear. Vermax may be faster, but the dragon was still only young, and you feared they may suffer the same fate as Lucerys and Arrax since Aemond would act before thinking.

By the time you arrive at the gates leading into the courtyard, now escorted by the kingsguard who had spotted you, the word of your return has reached the keep, and you come face to face with your husband.

He looks older, more worn out, and broken.

Just like you.

—

Your skin is red and feels sensitive to touch; not only was your body now scrubbed raw to remove Daemon's blood, but so you could finally feel free of him. The lilac-coloured dress that once was the most flattering clothing you owned now looked different on you. Your breasts now larger from breastfeeding and pregnancy threaten to stretch the fabric covering your chest, and the material now clings over to your stomach, doing nothing to hide the changes your body has gone through.

You only had a short time to gather your thoughts and briefly speak to Aemond before being bombarded with questions.

All you wanted was to push the bad stuff to the back of your mind and just be a mother, cuddle, and play with Daenys without fearing someone would take her from you. But it wasn’t to be. The dowager queen, Aegon, Ser Criston, and your grandsire had burst through your chamber doors, distributing the little peace that you had.

Your eyes jump between Aegon, who was continuously ranting about sending men to kill your eldest sister despite your protest, and Aemond, who was suspiciously quiet. He had said very little.

“Aegon!” You snap, slamming your hands against the table. “My dragon is twice the size Sunfyre is, and I swear by the gods that if you harm Rhaenyra or her children, I will burn this fucking castle down with you inside. Do I make myself clear?”

“She is a threat—”

“No, Daemon was the threat, but he is dead.”

Ser Criston clears his throat, “Perhaps we should let things rest for a couple of days, my king. The princess has been through something unimaginable; we need to let her rest.”

It was beyond frustrating; Aegon only cares how things appeared to the smallfolk over what actually happened. Jacaerys helped you survive on Dragonstone; he ‘accidentally’ left the blade in the room you were kept in. Tears aping to your eyes, “Our nephew helped me. I will not allow him to be killed for it.”

“I’m glad you have returned home, granddaughter, but we do need a story to tell our council.”

You stare at Aemond, waiting to see if he has any input, but he remains silent. “Say that it was a joint effort to recuse me; this is a lie, but it’s not as if my brother ended up on the throne because you spoke the truth.”

“A joint effort?” Aegon scoffs.

“I had to kill our uncle so I could escape, because I knew nobody was coming for me! Did anyone even read the letters Jacaerys sent telling you where I was?”

Your grandsire sighs, “You need to understand our position; it could have been a trick.”

“Get out.” You step away from him. “I want everyone to leave me alone!”

“Nought will be done tonight,” Aemond suddenly storms towards the door. “This conversation is upsetting my wife and will resume in the morrow.”

—

Between wiping away tears, you finish writing a letter addressed to Jacaerys. You had caught a glimpse of Rhaenyra while traveling to the dragon mount, and she looked more like a ghost than a human. You weren’t entirely sure how, but you would find a way to protect them.

Hearing a knock at the door, you call out, “Come.”

Maester Orwyle enters; he avoids making eye contact as he places a foul-smelling tea in front of you.

“What is that?”

“Moon tea, princess.”

“Why is it in front of me?” You push the small plate in front of you further across the table, away from you. “I did not ask for it.”

A look of panic crosses his features. “Forgive me, princess; I was under the impression you did.”

Before anything else can be said, Aemond walks into your shared chamber; he had awoken and left before you awakened.

“Leave us.” More tears spill, but this time it’s caused by rage. “I told you I was with child in confidence, and yet you betrayed me by speaking with the maester and having this brought to me. What if I had drunk it without knowing what it was?”

Aemond stares at you, looking defeated. “He—Daemon did unthinkable things to you.”

“I am so sick and tired of men telling me what to do!” Frustrated, you toss the cup of tea at the wall. “I am not the same person I was, Aemond. I will not allow anyone to tell me what to do.”

“I’m not trying to tell you what to do,” he says, striding towards you until he’s close enough to cup your cheek. “I asked Orwyle what options you had; I did not think he'd brew the tea before we had a chance to talk.”

“My heart still aches for Anya and Rhaella.” You bring his hand to gently rest against your stomach. “It may be hard to understand, but this baby is mine, not his. I will care for this boy or girl as much as I do, Daenys. Can you?”

“I’m afraid that it will be a constant reminder of what was done to you.”

Your foreheads touch. “Then let it be a reminder of how hard I fought to get back to you, to save our daughter.”

A single tear falls from his eye. “I thought about you every day. I’ve done things I’m not proud of, but I will try my best to set things right.”

—

You return to your bedchamber after visiting your sister to say goodnight emotionally exhausted. You had remained cooped up inside your chamber to avoid dealing with the rest of your family, but you missed Helaena and needed to see her. You had refused any assistance from the handmaids on the assumption Aemond would already be asleep. Starting to untie the back of your gown, you reach the side of your bed, and your stomach drops. The cot at the foot of your bed was empty.

Just as you go to scream for the kingsguards standing on the opposite side of the door to enter, you hear a humming coming from the far side of your chambers. Sprinting over, you see Aemond standing by the fireplace, gently rocking your babe in his arms.

“She woke up fussing.”

“Tis not surprising; all this change has been a lot for our little princess.”

Aemond places Daenys into her crib, then sits in the chair beside it, his eyes glued to her the entire time. “Jacaerys, Rhaenyra, and the rest of her children will be spared.”

You fiddle with the loose ribbons hanging from your dress. “Aegon changed his mind?”

“With some persuasion.” Aemond takes hold of your hand and guides you to sit on his knee. “It does not please me to see him remain on the throne; our brother is a fool, but the matter is settled. He will allow Rhaenyra to remain queen of the rock she lives on.”

“Hmm,” you rest your head on his shoulder, letting Aemond hold you close. “I don’t ever want our daughter going through something like I did.”

“I cannot say what our futures will hold, but I swear to you now nobody will ever take you or Daenys again.” Aemond kisses your forehead. “I will keep the both of you safe by my side, always.”

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pinkiscent · 5 months ago

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im officially done with this show. i'm never tuning in again. it baffles me how the writers can make the women spineless in this show again and again. their only purpose is to love their children and try to make the men around them logical because war is bad!!!! even though the war they're fighting is literally because of them. 14 year old rhaenyra was more focused and had way more character than what adult rhaenyra has ever showed us in these last 7 episodes with her. they have stripped her not only of book!rhaenyra's traits but also of young rhaenyra's. you're telling me this rhaenyra is the same that went to dragonstone to kick daemon out and get back her brother's egg? you would have thought that all those years at kings landing under alicent's abuse would have hardened her but nope. she's a sick joke of the woman that fought for her right to the throne. this rhaenyra is the one i'm expected to believe that her bannermen will rally for even after her death? how would i believe that when she doesn't even attempt to defend the lands closest to dragonstone? how would i believe that when it is her 15 year old son the one that puts some sense into her head?

rhaenys' death was meant to be pretty harsh but instead i felt nothing. her only role in the war was to protect rooks rest and burn aegon before she dies, but they cannot even let her do that. book!rhaenys was a fierce woman that stood by rhaenyra not only because she was the grandmother to her children but also because she knew what it was like to be put aside in favor of a man. she is nothing of the sort in this show. she let rooks rest fall, barely scratched sunfyre and didn't even come close to doing anything to vhagar. her death represents nothing cause show!rhaenys is nothing. we don't know anything about her other than she's mad at daemon for keeping laena away from driftmark and is mad at rhaenyra for murdering laenor. that's it.

women are incapable of being selfish, vengeful or spiteful. they're only victims to the evil men around them that have their own agenda

they screwed up rhaenys' storyline which makes it clear they will ruin baela's, which was kind of like a mirror to rhaenys' in this fight. killing aegon was a team effort between rhaenys, baela and corlys. but now that has gone to shit. so, yeah. im giving up on this show.

it baffles me how grrm keeps letting these people ruin his life's work but maybe he doesn't care about what he wrote and is just in it for the money

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd2 #hotd season 2 #hotd season two #hotd s2 #anti hotd #anti house of the dragon #ryan condal needs to be put down ASAP

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the-fiction-witch · 3 months ago

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I Like Him P4

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Oscar Tully Couple - Oscar X Reader Reader - (OC) Jaerra Targaryen [Daughter of Daemon Targaryen & Rhea Royce] Rating - 15 + mentions of childbirth / mentions of death / mentions of rape and abuse / hair pulling / loss of mothers / Word Count - 1785

Requested -

Part 4 pls 🙏 Plssss Part 4? 🥺 I really hope you are planning to write a part 4, because I love how the fic's going More of the I like him series!! Plzzz

The work began at Harenhall, Lords and Levies alike took tools in hand to help make the castle ready to host the armies of Queen Rhaenyra. Preparing the old ruins to house the Riverlords, the armies, and the thousands of men that would wait here for the queen's word.

Even Daemon was chopping wood for supports and beams of the once grand Hall.

Jaerra had been given the task of weaving rope, she found the task a little insulting being told by the lords to sit in the corner and weave while the men around her, chopped wood, broke rocks and stacked bricks but it meant she got to sit in a quiet windowsill winding cordage and braiding it into rope for … whatever tasks they needed it for.

Luckily she wasn’t alone, Oscar Tully had to been given the task to work on the rope, too too felt mildly insulted over it, given he was the youngest man in the castle he felt like kicking the man who told him. That he felt so large he could tell the Lord Paramount of the Riverlands to go and sit with a woman and weave. But Oscar didn’t argue and just wanted to help in whatever way he could, imagining he wouldn’t be overly grand at wood chopping, rock breaking or bricklaying anyway. And of course… he got to sit in a nice little corner with Jaerra and weave rope by her side.

Oscar did his best not to stare and not to plush at her but found himself far behind her in terms of making rope due to always having his eyes on her.

He sighed wistfully as he looked up once more, seeing her today wearing a simple gown of a deep red slightly bronze colour, her Targaryen blonde hair loose around her, with her one dark brown streak beside her face at times she blew on the streak whenever it fell into her eyes as she worked. He couldn’t hold back his smile, imagining her for a moment…

Sitting in the Solar of Riverrun, with the redwood walls surrounding her, the large arch of blue watery strained glass behind her as an orange sunset fades, her body leant against the craved lapping trout bedposts of the canopy bed of the lord of the Riverlands, the firelight cascading over her, wearing a mud red gown, her hair braided and beautiful but still her dark brown strand being blown from her face, a swollen belly ripe for a baby to be born, as she embroiders a silver dragon below the watery black waves, the fire crackling the only sound other than his own rapidly beating heart.

And he could stay in such a thought forever. Oh, how he wished to.

“The rope shall not weave itself my Lord Tully,” She smiled teasingly as she caught him looking,

“Oh! Yes- Of course,” Oscar jumped back into the moment, “Forgive me my lady my mind was… elsewhere,”

“Nothing to forgive, and I’ve told you before you do not need to call me a lady,”

“I know, I just… feel rude is all,”

“I would prefer it honestly,”

“... as would I,” He smiled, “I would prefer us to be plain with one another…Jaerra”

“I hope so too Oscar,” She smiled back as she worked,

He got back to his work for a while before he felt compelled to speak, “Jaerra?”

“Yes, Oscar?”

“Forgive me, but. May I ask something… that may seem personal?”

“You may,” she nodded, “I also may punch you so the choice is yours,”

He chuckled, but soon settled seriously, “It’s uhh- it’s about your hair?”

“Yes?” She raised an eyebrow at him,

“Do you mind me saying it's… unusual?” He asked, “But still very beautiful!” He jumped in to correct himself not wishing to offend her,

“It’s unusual yes.” She agreed,

“May I ask, Why?” He asked, “Targaryen’s usual have the -”

“All over blonde, I know,” she nodded,

“But you don’t?”

“I don’t,” she nodded, “I used to,”

“You did?”

“I did,” she sighed,

“And this dark brown streak just… grew over time?” He asked his hand absentmindedly moving to the dark streak of her hair putting it neatly behind her ear,

“Sort of,” she answered, “I- I pulled my hair out when I was young,”

“You- pulled your hair out?” He asked, “On purpose?”

“Yes, strangely.” she nodded with a slight scoff, “When I was little, people said my hair was perfect, that it glimmered in the sunlight like a dornish diamond, my ‘Beautiful long Targaryen blonde hair’, never once was I allowed to braid, brush or wash it myself, and I all were forbidden from cutting it. Maids would sit with me for hours just doing my hair, braiding this endless rope of hair behind my head,”

“Wasn’t that heavy?”

“Very.” She nodded, “but… I was so angry, such a sad, angry little girl. And when I was angry I would go to my chambers and I would pull my hair so hard that I would rip it from my head and burn it in my fireplace. It started small at first a few hairs, never to be missed. But… I kept doing it, and doing it,” she explained, “until my ‘beautiful long Targaryen blonde hair’ was patchy, broken, mismatched lengths, and the only thing to be done was to cut it all off.”

“Cut off? How short?”

“To the root, too short to pull out.”

“I- I bet you were still beautiful,” He cooed,

“No one told me so, all anyone said about was how nice I would look when it grew back. So… the moment a single strand got long enough I would rip it out, ripping and ripping over and over.”

“Didn’t it hurt?”

“It did, but… I didn’t care.” she said, “All I saw on my head was a sigil, I was a Targaryen and everyone knew it before they even knew who I was, and I hated it so much that I didn’t care how much it hurt.”

He softly nodded, “But when did it, turn brown?”

“Years later,” she answered, “One day I noticed it, just a few hairs. Dark brown. And I loved them so utterly,” She cooed winding her fingers around her streak, “They felt… like me, and I let them grow and grow wanting my whole head to turn this dark brown, it stopped with just this but I love it.”

“Not Targaryen, Just you,” He smiled,

“Just me,” she nodded, “Daemon hated it, I imagine he still does. But It makes me feel like me,”

Oscar nodded, “I like it too,”

“Thank you,” She smiled,

“I- I assume the brown, comes from your mother?”

She nodded, “I think so,”

“How does she feel about it?”

“I don’t know,” She said sadly, “I hope she’d like it, but she never got to see it,”

“Oh-” he gasped, “Forgive me Jaerra,”

“It’s alright,” she reassured him,

“What happened to her?” He asked gently,

“I did,” She answered, “She died, in the birthing bed.” Sadness flooded her voice,

Oscar felt a chill go down his spine, but he felt compelled to speak, “I- I lost my mother that way to,” He answered,

The two shared a look, a thousand words of understanding passed through them without a movement of their lips,

“Can I ask-”

“I don’t really know,” She said, “Few would speak of it,”

“I don’t mean to-”

“I know, it’s okay,” She softly smiled,

“Who was she?”

“Rhea, Lady of House Royce,”

“House Royce? Of Runstone?”

“The very same,”

“I have heard tales of her,”

“Many have,” she nodded, “He married my mother, becuase his grandmother Queen Alysanne demanded him to. But he hated her, and she hated him,”

“A very happy marriage then,” he joked,

“Very much,” she laughed, “Daemon avoided her and the Vale as much as he could, never even consummating their marriage… until. His brother then King Viserys demanded him to. Daemon arrived to Runstone on Caraxes too drunk to barely stand, he crawled beside her and took her. They said her screams echoed through the mountains. And she got pregnant with me,” she explained, “Daemon didn’t care he ran off god knows where, and left her alone. She sent ravens and messengers but Daemon never came. She went into labour one cold night or so they say, and I was born. A little Targaryen blonde babe. Everyone says it began to rain the moment I was born.”

Oscar softly smiled at that,

“And she held me… looked into my little eyes and she bled to death.” She explained, “The wounds too great she… passed, with me still in her arms, the maids told me once, she … was begging just to hold me one more moment, she told the Maester my name and then… she was gone,” She sniffled back a tear,

“I- I’m so sorry Jaerra,”

“It’s alright,” She nodded forcing back her sadness,

“They say that about me too?”

“What?” She asked,

“That it rained, it began to rain the moment I was born they say.” He nodded,

“What happened?” She asked gently,

“My father… adored my mother, He was Heir to Riverrun, the future Lord Tully, and she… a sweet smallwood girl, the future lady of Acorn hall. He would have moved the trident for her” He chuckled, “made her his wife when they were young and in love, of course… she was pregnant not long after. With Twins” He explained, “But… she was a small woman, thin and delicate. Birth just… ripped her apart, I came first and my father named me Oscar of House Tully. And before he was even born he named my brother, Kermit. but… they say she begged him, her hands bloody begging not to do it, saying she couldn’t do it, I had already broken her body beyond repair and she begged and cried for hours but she did it. She brought Kermit into the world, but… she was dead by the time my father held him in his arms.”

She nodded, “And your brother?”

“Dead. A day later. They say it was a miracle I survived.”

“I’m so sorry Oscar,” she said resting her hand softly on his,

He let a small smile crack across his lips, slowly intertwining his fingers with hers and rubbing his thumb softly against her skin,

“What was her name?”

“...Annie. Annie Smallwood,”

“I’m sorry you lost her,”

“I’m sorry too,” He nodded, “if it helps, I’m here and I promise I’m not going anywhere Jaerra.”

“Me either Oscar,” She smiled squeezing his hand a little, “Now come on let's finish this rope before they come to yell at us,”

“Right,” he nodded and chuckled softly, but as he looked to their rope he blushed, “Oohh uhhh we uhhh-”

“Oh!” She giggled softly,

The rope Jaerra had been braiding and the rope Oscar had been braiding had somehow gotten braided together forming one rope together,

“Well, guess we need to start over,” She chuckled,

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libraryoffandomsuniverse · 5 months ago

Text

Trust

Series masterlist

YNN: your nickname

My first time writing something steamy (ish). Hopefully it's not too clunky.

Sometimes romance is a date to a restaurant. Sometimes it's plotting murder together. 😉

~~~

"I want him dead."

Although she spoke quietly, Rhaenyra's voice seemed to echo around the room.

You twisted your head to look at her in disbelief. You had just finished making love after hours. You'd coaxed her to pleasure several times using your hands, mouth and cock. How could your darling wife be thinking about murder when you were still barely capable of stringing words together?

"I need you to repeat that," you said slowly, "because it almost sounds like I haven't made you come enough if you're thinking about murder. It's not mine, is it?"

She giggled and moved closer, resting her head on your shoulder. Your arms instantly wrapped around her, an echo of the countless times you'd held each other like this before.

"Of course it's not you," she rubbed your chest in reassurance. "I'm talking about Otto Hightower."

At the mention of the Hand, your good mood plummeted.

Ever since Lord Strong's resignation, you had been cursed with Ser Otto's presence. The fact that he became the Hand again was beyond a joke, given that his ambitions to make his grandson Aegon King was a secret only to Viserys.

The sight of Queen Alicent strutting around the Red Keep with her supporters flaunting their green robes made you seethe. Coupled with the divide between both camps of supporters and it made for an increasingly poisonous atmosphere in court.

You and Rhaenyra had not been idle. The return of your father as Master of Ships, along with your promotion to Master of Laws had caused quite a bit of grief to Ser Otto's plans. The sight of the vein throbbing on his forehead whenever you managed to persuade the King to agree with you was a beautiful one, and it took everything you had not to smirk or snigger like a child or Daemon.

The thought of your goodbrother reminded you of his and Laena's recent return from Pentos. If anyone knew of a way to remove the Hand, it would be them.

"He will die," you whispered. "I'll make certain of it. Laena will know of something that may help."

"Not Daemon?" Rhaenyra tilted her head to face yours.

You snorted. "Daemon's solution would probably involve a dagger and a catspaw. We need to be subtle and leave nothing for the Queen to accuse us of murder. Laena will know; she was always interested in plants."

"If she finds a way, who will replace Otto? Your mother? Daemon? Tyland Lannister?"

"Actually," you began. "I thought it could be you." She lifted her head and looked at you with shock. "Let me finish," you continued. "You became cupbearer at eight, you've had a seat on the Small Council for almost ten years. You've seen how it works, you know about the issues the other Masters face. When Lord Lyonel was Hand, you regularly met with him to discuss solutions."

Your voice had risen as you'd argued your point, but your hands remained gentle as they cupped her face.

"Think of it as extra training for when you become Queen," you said.

Rhaenyra's face was uncertain. "You are so sure of yourself. How do you know it will happen?"

"I'll make it happen, my love," you promised before reaching up to kiss her.

"I do not feel ready, YNN," she confessed. "Every time I sit at that table, I feel like a pretender, like a girl again."

"Rhae," her name rolled on your tongue. "I don't think anyone is ever really ready to wear the crown. But there have been good kings, bad kings and kings that were middling. There have also been excellent and terrible Hands. You becoming Hand will not cause the Seven Kingdoms to collapse. I would always be happy to advise you if you wished, but you're more knowledgeable than you think you are. If you can't believe in yourself, believe in me and the fact that I trust in you."

The kiss she gave you was hungry, full of teeth and passion. You pulled her up so that she lay on top of you. Her hands made their way to your hair, while yours slowly crept down her back.

When she finally pulled away, her lips were red and bruised. Her cheeks were flushed while her white hair fell loosely around you both, creating a veil that hid you both from the outside world.

"When my wife makes a request, what loyal husband wouldn't strive to see it done?" your lips brushed against hers. "I'll fly to Driftmark tomorrow to ask Laena."

"I want Otto Hightower dead," she ordered.

Like a Queen.

Your wife's reply was not in words.

#my writing #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #x male reader #black reader #rhaenyra targaryen imagines #hotd imagines

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enchantedlov3r · 4 months ago

Text

~Wild enemies turned lovers~ A Jacaerys Velaryon love story Cowboy AU

Chapter 1

Summary: you and Jace were enemies, no one could get you guys to get along. so when you guys are forced to work together on your mother's farm for a summer, burning hatred turns into passionate love...

Pairing: cowboy!Jacaerys x cowgirl!reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: lots of sadness and angst, Jace being a tiny asshole, aemond being a good friend, daemon being the reader's fav as he should, and lots of cussing yayy! smut in future chapters, fluff at the end kind of, mentions of death, arguing, let me know if I missed anything! enjoyyyy!

A/N: heyyyy... how y'all doin'.... so look I know I have other stuff to work on but I just couldn't resist y'all know me! so this is dedicated to a lovely girl @coral021 so I hope you like it and it suits your liking, this will be a series btw!

You felt as though you and Jace were supposed to be enemies since the womb.

Jace was always so stuck up and such a know it all while you were more reserved and chose to hide in the shadows.

yes you were outgoing and loved riding your horse around the farm, but you also didn't like a lot of human interaction with others you didn't know.

you were reserved and introverted that way. you liked to tend to the farm animals and do chores, stuff normal people wouldn't exactly enjoy doing.

but when you put those headphones on, you were in a whole other world. a world that Jace always loved to mess up when he and his family came to visit.

It was currently 2:55pm when Jace and his family arrived. It was Daemon, your favorite. Aemond and Aegon, Lucerys, Joffery, and Rhaenyra.

you spotted them from the barn as you were feeding the pigs. you finished tidying up in the barn when your twin sister comes running towards you.

your sister was your best friend, she was the only one who you felt actually understood you.

"There here!" she says with a giddy smile. "yea I caught that, you seem a wee bit too excited, I wonder why." you say your southern drawl coming in strong.

"oh stop it! you know he doesn't like me back, it's just a tiny crush anyway. to be honest I think he takes a liking to you." she says as you both walk hand in hand.

she had the biggest crush on aemond. he showed signs that he didn't like her back but to be honest your sister could never truly stay hooked on one man.

when you guys were 12 she had a crush on jace but when you guys were 15 she obtained a crush on aegon.

"you know how you get around him, I just don't want him hurting your feelings, you know how mean they are, and besides your too sweet for him anyway. and I highly doubt he wants me," you say smiling at her as you rub your nose with hers.

she was the joy and happiness that you don't have. you weren't exactly depressed but you weren't exactly happy either, being the oldest by 5 minutes meant more pressure on you then her.

but she was still able to put a smile on your face as always. you havent been the best, especially since dad died. it's been rough on everyone but daisy doesn't show it as much. tyring to stay happy for everyone.

(gonna name her daisy btw you can use it if not thats ok too)

you eventually just shut everyone out except her. your older brother, your mom, your friends, even other family members.

"you think mom's gonna tell em? that dad's dead?" daisy asks you. you sigh and look at your house up ahead.

"maybe, they are like family and daemon really did like our dad so maybe?" you say honestly. you weren't sure.

your mom hasn't left the house in months. he recently died and you guys had the funeral a few months ago.

she hasn't moved from the house and you and daisy were constantly trying to coax her to help out.

so instead of getting up to help she calls the Targaryen family over to help for the entire summer.

now to anyone that sounds amazing. to you, it was a nightmare because of the sleep schedule, the trouble you'd have to endure, and the endless amounts of teasing and annoyance from Jace.

"I like your outfit btw but you might wanna change, and shower. you smell like mud and pigs." she says snickering.

you had on a white t-shirt with blue overalls and a cowgirl hat on to keep the heat from out of your eyes along with your handy dandy cowgirl boots.

"yea yea, I know. but not before i do this!" you exclaim before rubbing your hands all on her arms and rubbing your cheek on her cheek.

"ewwwwwww! gross! whyyyy mee!" Daisy yells out as she runs away from you. you quickly follow after her you catch a glimpse of the four boys staring at you guys. your older brother, aemond, aegon, and jace.

"ok ok! I surrender. I give up, come on daisy I won't do anything, promise!" you yell out at her.

she laughs and puts both her thumbs up before making her way back to you.

you both walk up the porch steps towards the front door when your met with your older brothers gaze.

"Where have you two been? Mom was looking for you both to greet the Targaryens." he says with a stern gaze.

"doing the work you should have been doing. that's where I was." you say with a bit of venom behind it.

"well I was busy. you know taking care of mom." he says. you roll your eyes and so does daisy.

"bullshit Tyler, I was taking care of mom while you were out fucking some girl." daisy announces.

"oh wow, but what the hell was all that talk about how you care for mom's mental health and how you needed to now step up and be the "man" of the house and take care of mom?" you question, restating what he said the day after the funeral.

"I meant that. I'm doing that, I'm putting in more work than you." he says with his chest puffed out.

"Yea tell her." Jace whispers.

'Oh.' you saw what was going on here, Tyler wanted to act all tough and big and bad because they were here. well, you were gonna show your brother just how pathetic he is.

you glare at the boys behind him and then look at your brother again.

"hey by the way, tell that girl, what was her name again, cat? yea did you ever tell her that you had chlamydia and might have given it to her? yea did you tell her that you got it from her sister? well, that's too bad cause I uhm already told her. she's on her way here shortly so that'll be a fun conversation." you say with a smile.

"let's go daisy," you say before walking towards the door. "Oh by the way welcome back boys," you say with an insincere smile on your face before pushing the door to your household open and walking in.

you hear the muffled conversation and you smile knowing that there questioning your brother and his sexual acts and the fact that he just let me punk him.

"that was just cruel but well deserved." daisy says with a giggle. you smile at her and laugh too.

"Hi, Rhaenyra." you greet as you see her and your mom talking at the dining table.

"Hello girls, always a pleasure to see you guys." she says with that warm smile on her face.

sometimes you wished she was your mom instead of your actual mom because Rhaenyra actually understood you, unlike your mom.

"I would hug you but i'm covered in mud and hay, lemme go clean up yea?" you say to her with a smile.

she smiles and nods with understanding and you walk up the stairs towards your room.

you grab a little white sundress with yellow flowers on it. you grab some panties and a bra as well and walk towards your bathroom for a well-deserved shower.

It was currently 7:45 when you finally left your room after your daily reading routine, you got out of the shower a while ago and your ready for dinner.

"Hey! Come downstairs loser, dinner is ready, and Daemons asking for you." daisy says bursting into your room.

"hey, one I'm not a loser and two you had me at Daemon's name," you say excitingly as you rush downstairs with her.

you see Daemon's white hair and his black cowboy hat and sneak up behind him and jump on his back.

"RAHHHH!" You yell out as he twirls you around with his hands on your legs holding you there.

"There she is! How's my special girl." he says with a smile on his face. you laugh and wrap your arms around his neck.

"I'm doing pretty good old man, how are you?" you say laughing when he drops you off him at calling him an old man.

"well I was doing good until that statement child." he says rolling his eyes playfully.

you laugh at him and shove him with your shoulder snatching his hat off his head and putting it on yours. You stand next to him listening to him talk about his time here in the last hour or so and you smile.

your deep in his conversation when Lucerys runs to you with Joffery.

"Hey guys! Omg! Luke you're getting taller dude and Joffery last time I saw you, you were like this short." you say shrinking your hand a bit.

"Hey guess what i'm 7 now! and Luke is 13!" he says proudly. you smile at them and high five the both of them.

"well ain't that something nice," you say roughing up Luke's hair. "Alright, boys why don't you go and find some seats, dinners ready."

they both nod and go find a seat. you smile and bid him a farewell while you go and find a seat next to your sister.

"Hey sissy." you say with a smile. "hey loser." she says with a smirk. you kick her foot and she laughs.

"girls. no playing at the table you know that." your mom says for the first time today.

"but dad never had a problem with it." daisy says in protest. you roll your eyes not even bothering to put up a fight with her.

"Yeah well he's dead isn't he, so whatever I say goes," she says sternly making everyone at the table go silent.

"yea well you haven't done anything around here anyway so what's the point." you whisper under your breath.

"I'm sorry, did you have something you wanted to share with the family?" she says with that aggression and attitude in her tone.

"Miranda don't," Rhaenyra warns.

"No its fine. Yea I do have something to share." you say putting your fork down losing your appetite.

"Here we go again." Tyler says rolling his eyes.

"You have not moved from your room in months. you have done nothing to help with the farm, you just sit around and sulk in the coldness of your room. Daisy has coaxed you to start eating properly, I have stepped up and cooked and helped take care of the fucking animals you and Dad raised when we were babies. and yet, whatever you say is supposed to go? yea, mom that makes total sense coming from a woman who couldn't even go buy fucking groceries for the goddamn house." you say out of anger.

"please don't do this, not again bro," Tyler says.

"No.. no Tyler you have no right to talk. your last words to dad were that you fucking hated him and wished he wasn't alive anymore. and for what? all because he wouldn't let you sneak some fucking whore in the house?" you say angrily with tears streaming down your face.

"You wanna act like the man of the house so bad but you couldn't even make the real man in the house proud. I blame you for his death, every single fucking day. I hate you Tyler, and I hate you Mom because you act like it's nothing. You don't check on your kids, you don't comfort Daisy at night when she wakes up crying and calling out for Dad. you do nothing. and whatever you say goes right?" you yell at Tyler and your mom.

your full-on crying now.

"I can't even look at you anymore," you say finally before looking away from them both and silently crying.

"sorry to ruin this wonderful dinner that Daisy cooked. and I'm sorry Rhaenyra and Daemon and everyone else for making you uncomfortable. I'm fine now." you say calmly.

"darling, it's totally fine. I can tell you needed to let that out." Rhaenyra says with a smile on her face.

"You just ruin everything don't you, no wonder Tyler never wants you around either," Jace says under his breath.

"what the fuck did you just say?!" you yell at jace.

"Man come on don't make her angry," Tyler says.

"JACAERYS VELARYON!" Rhaenyra yells making everyone silent at the table.

"you have no right... no right to say that. out of all people you should understand as you lost your father, don't you start with this family, and put them through more hell." she exclaims.

"I've lost my appetite, i'll eat it later daisy. I'm sorry." you say before running out of the house and running towards the barn.

"why couldn't you just stay quiet like you always are Mom? I made a n-nice dinner and you ruined it. You too Tyler and you Jace. you guys know better but you act fucking childish anyway!" Daisy says with tears in her eyes as she runs to her room.

"I'll go find her, Aegon you go after Daisy. don't worry, we'll fix this." Aemond says.

you're sitting on the bench by the coupe of chickens when you hear rustling behind you.

"go away Tyler! I don't want you here right no-"

"Not Tyler," Aemond announces interrupting your sentence.

you turn around and see aemond standing there with his hands in his pocket.

"come to tease me like Jace does? if so I'm not in the mood," you say sitting back down to feed the chickens.

"actually i'm here to comfort you. see I lost my dad too so I know how you feel. My dad may not have died like yours did but I lost mine and I'm at least civil enough to know that, that shit isn't something to make fun of." aemond says as he sits next to you.

"Yea, it's not," you say throwing more food for the chickens. you glance at him and he's staring right back at you.

"you know I don't hate him, not really." you say with a slight smile on your face.

"who Tyler?" he asks.

"nope, not him no I hate him with my life. I mean Jace. I never hated him. He just started hating on me from the jump so I just went along with it. But it's getting exhausting. were both adults now, were 18, why can't he just act more mature." you say looking at the stars in the sky.

"I don't know, I'm never really around my niece all that well but maybe he likes you. You know, arguing and pretending to hate someone for no reason at all is a sign that they like you but are trying to hide their feelings deep down."

"Oh shut up!" you say shoving him and laughing.

"Just saying," he says with a smile. you smile back at him remembering how fun and nice Aemond really was. when you guys were alone at least.

"by the way you gotta stop bullying Luke, he's 13, and you're 19. get it together bro," you say sternly locking eyes with him.

"yea yea I will." he says smiling at you. you smile back and stare at him.

for a moment it felt as though time had stopped. you both stare at each other before Aemond's smile fades and he leans a little closer to you.

he leans closer and closer until he's near your ear. "we should probably get back, daemons calling." he whispers.

"oh uhm-" you clear your throat. "yeah w-we should. thanks aemond, I really needed this talk." you say with a smile before hugging him.

"no problem." he says hugging you back as he rests his head on yours.

you both walk back engaged in conversation again about his love life. of course, he didn't have a girlfriend. you're gonna have to tell that to Daisy, maybe another night...not tonight.

then out of the blue, Jace pops up in your mind and you speak before your mind can tell you to shut up.

"D-does Jace have a girlfriend by any chance?" you ask keeping your head straight, not daring to look at Aemond's amused face and teasing smirk.

"no...he doesn't. why, are you interested?" he asks nudging you a bit as he chuckles with amusement.

,"No, not at all. Just curious is all." you say with a little giggle. you both make it back to the house and are greeted with Rhaenyra and Daemon's lovely faces.

they thank you that you came back and thank Aemond for bringing you back.

you smile at them and bid the three a goodbye. you try to make your way up the stairs but the sound of Jace's voice stops you.

"Hey, wait," he says walking to catch you quick enough. you turn around with an emotionless expression as you really don't want to speak to him.

"look I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that when I know your clearly hurting. I know what it's like to lose your father or someone close to you. I shouldn't have been such an asshole and I'm really sorry. If you could ever find it in your heart to forgive me, I would really appreciate it." he says with a serious face.

you saw past the serious facade though. there was something in his eyes, a look of not only a feeling of apologetics but of sincerity too, and passion and remorse.

a look that you can forgive.

"I forgive you Jace. I am really tired now so, goodnight." you smile at him and give him a light hug.

he hugs you back as his eyes widen. you've never shown him affection like this and neither has he so this... this was new.

"goodnight, i'll see you tomorrow then. my mom told me to help you with whatever chores you need help with," he says.

"oh ok, well then see ya tomorrow Jace." you say as you turn on your heel to make your way towards the stairs and go to your room.

you didn't quite know what tomorrow would hold for you but you prayed it wasn't Jace being an asshole.

if only you knew how much tomorrow was going to be hell for you...

Taglist: @raynesbandaids @liliesdiary @ribbonprincess and anyone else who wants to join.

COMMENTS, REBLOGS, AND LIKES ARE MUCH APPRECIATED!

#jacaerys x reader #jacaerys velaryon smut #jace velaryon smut #haary collet #cowboy #cowboy au #jace as a cowboy #prince jacaerys #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #hotd jacaerys #jace targaryen #jace velaryon #enchanted's writes💓

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atopcat · 10 months ago

Note

"baela is daemon's favorite daughter" so favorite that he doesn't say a word to her the entire series like (???) the way they treat baela and rhaena in the series is sad and problematic, the two just sit in a corner saying absolutely nothing and every now and then giving little smiles

The treatment of House Velaryon in general is an actual joke, Ryan Condal expects us to give him a pat on the back for doing the bare minimum by casting black actors whilst simultaneously ignoring everything about them.

Look at Baela and Rhaena in the show:

Does this tell you anything about their individual personalities? All I see are two girls who don’t have much going on other than standing around looking pretty, they might as well be cardboard cutouts with how little they’re given to work with.

Now compare this to fan art:

(art by chillyravenart) (art by dalberadiata)

Straight away I know Rhaena is feminine and sweet, whilst Baela is more assertive and a fighter.

George has told us so much about Baela:

She’s wild, willing and fearless

She was considered more boyish than ladylike

She was overly interested in boys

She loved riding her dragon so much she cropped her hair so it wouldn’t whip around her face

She was often chastised for wrestling squires

She was quick to anger

What does the show tell us? Absolutely nothing. We just needed ONE scene, a scene where Baela stands up for herself when Aegon is a creep instead of them making it all about how great Jace is. She refuses to leave Jace’s side in the books, why couldn’t she have a line where she says just that? The idiots even robbed us of her scene with Rhaenys where she shows her fearlessness as a Targaryen princess because apparently Larys being a creep is more important. The show is literally going out of their way to screw her over because she is brimming with personality in the books!

Ryan has told us absolutely nothing about Baela the Brave and Sweet Rhaena of Pentos because he didn’t think of them to be of any importance. He didn’t think the girl who takes down King Aegon II Targaryen and her sister who becomes the last dragon rider until Daenerys Targaryen are of any importance. It’s been left to fans to fill in the gaps and stress the importance of House Targaryen’s final girls because the show refuses to.

These writers are racist af because you just know if they were cast instead it would be a completely different story.

#thedragonschant #baela targaryen #baela of pentos #rhaena targaryen #rhaena of pentos #the dragon twins #house of the dragon #hotd meta #team black #valyrianscrolls #asoiaf meta #anti hotd #hotd critical #hotd #house Targaryen

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syndrossi · 2 months ago

Note

Now I REALLY WANT something where Ser Thoren DOES rescue the boys and reunites them with Daemon earlier, largely because I want to see what happens when the Volentenes attempt to kidnap them while they're with their father.

Oooh, that WOULD be spicy, wouldn't it? I imagine the way it plays out initially is:

Ser Thoren brings them back up north to catch a ship to King's Landing.

Allard dispatches his men in search/pursuit of them.

After a week of failed searching (Crayne convinces Allard to keep it on the down low), Allard finally informs Rhea via raven that the boys are missing. She reaches out to Rhaenyra to have a raven sent to Daemon in the Stepstones and sends out ravens throughout the Vale to be on the lookout for the boys. Ser Thoren and the twins set sail from the Fingers.

Rhea rides south to Gulltown chasing a rumor about the boys, accident (or is it?) occurs just before Daemon arrives in Runestone for answers. Ser Thoren and the twins arrive at Dragonstone, as he wants the matter somewhat discreetly handled. Rhaenyra is here, just as in canon, and sends a raven to Runestone.

Daemon confronts Rhea, forces the confession, and this time the raven that reaches him isn't of the boys' kidnapping, but Rhaenyra's that the boys are safe in Dragonstone, which he immediately sets out for.

The big meet happens there, and Daemon and Rhaenyra fly the twins to King's Landing. There is much fanfare, but none of the urgency of Resonant, because the boys were never truly kidnapped. Viserys is pleased that Daemon's a father, but there's no "hand in the hearth" debriefing, so he has no reason to believe the boys are prophecy children. There is no 24/7 knight rotation, and boys are far less traumatized (though Rhaegar is still mourning Rhaella and Rhea) and Jon's not hurt.

Probably a few weeks pass without incident. The boys settle in, Daemon escorts them around the Dragonpit, though without success. (To Rhaegar's utter heartbreak.)

Daemon has no catalyst to set him after Volantis, so he's trying to figure out what to do now that he's a single dad. He also feels fairly safe taking them out into the city.

Meanwhile, the Volantenes + Jephyro are already aware of the new circumstances and have sailed into King's Landing to set up an attempt there...

Here's part one of an innocent outing in the city that may be about to turn into something quite a lot more dangerous...

x~x~x

"What about this one?" Daemon pointed at the clasp that had caught his eye—and clearly Rhaegar's—against the dark velvet that held the jeweler's various works: silver shaped into a dragon curled around a deep red garnet. "Do you have another?"

"Another, my prince?" the man repeated, before comprehension dawned. He looked between Daemon's two sons. "I could fashion a twin to it easily enough."

Daemon stole a glance at Jon to gauge his interest. His other son had proven himself to be less enthused about the finery afforded him in his new station. Allard Royce and whatever passed for clothing in the Vale were partly to blame for that, he presumed.

Jon's gaze was on a different piece, however, that of a silver wolf's head with eyes of smoothly-polished sapphire. It had no relation at all to their own house, better suited to the houses of the southern Crownlands and northern Stormlands who bore wolves upon their crest. But the longing in his face was clear, along with an undercurrent of sorrow.

He does not know to ask, Daemon thought with a familiar simmering anger at the reminder that his sons had spent their childhood being denied all that they were due.

It would not have been his choice, but boys formed all sorts of fascinations, and although wolves were no dragons, they were worthy enough in their own way. "Would you like that one, Jon?" he asked, reaching for the clasp.

He was immediately met with a grey-eyed stare so filled with uncertainty that his own heart ached. "It is a beautiful piece," Daemon said.

"I—" Jon swallowed, gaze returning to the clasp, then flicking up at the jeweler. "Could you change the eyes?"

The jeweler, sensing a sale, smiled encouragingly. "Easily enough. What suits your fancy, young prince? I have some emerald stones that could be fitted."

"What about the red stone in the dragon clasp? Do you have more of it?"

"The garnet? I do. I also have ruby, should that be more to your preference." The jeweler disappeared into his work room, emerging after a moment with a small cloth of both garnet and ruby gems, some rough and others worked, that he laid out on the table.

Jon looked between them. He seemed drawn at first to the ruby, touching a finger to it, but his mouth firmed with decision as he pulled back. "The garnet." He glanced at his brother. "So that we match."

"I shall have the modifications completed by tomorrow," the man said with a bow, before turning his gaze back to Daemon. "Is there anything else that you seek, my prince?"

"I have been told you have experience working with dragon scales."

The jeweler's expression brightened, this time with interest. "I do. I have done work for Princess Rhaenyra, and even Queen Alysanne herself, many years back."

His sons watched him with nearly identical expressions of curiosity as Daemon withdrew a thick red scale from his pouch, partly split by a glancing blow from one of the Triarchy's small ballistae that they lugged onto the shores of the Stepstones in hopes of a lucky shot before their inevitable destruction by dragonflame.

"What can you make of this?"

The jeweler took the scale from him with a hushed reverence, examining it from various angles. "I can shape it into smaller pieces and fashion a fetching pendant. Several, even. A gold setting would be striking, or--" He glanced at their silver-and-garnet selections. "Or silver, if that is more to your liking. If my prince cares to return in half an hour, I can make some sketches for your review for the pendant itself."

"Can you design one of a dragon's head?" Rhaegar asked. His look at Daemon held an uncertainty not unlike Jon's earlier. "We could have one apiece."

"The three heads of the dragon?" Daemon kissed the two heads within reach. "That feels fitting to me."

"I shall focus my efforts on dragon designs, then," the jeweler said with another bow, and Daemon could not tell if his enthusiasm was from the opportunity to work with such a rare material, or the growing purse he anticipated receiving.

Even if Viserys weren't cheered enough by his return and meeting his sons to see it paid directly from the royal treasury, Daemon had spent very little of his own allowance these past few years. There were scant opportunities in the wastes of the Stepstones.

It was getting past midday, long enough since breakfast for hunger to make itself known in the growling stomachs of growing boys. The taverns at the base of Aegon’s Hill catered to visiting nobles and rich merchants of the area, their fare a good deal finer than would be found just a few roads further south, near the harbor.

A royal visitor was not uncommon in these parts, though it still afforded them a quiet table away from the small pocket of knights well on their way to a drunken stupor not even halfway through the day. He would have numbered among them once, Daemon mused. Not the knight part, of course. But he had drunk his way through most of the taverns in the city in his youth, often dragging Viserys along. His brother had been a more exuberant drunk then, prone to wild capers he would not otherwise consider when sober.

I wonder if he might consider stealing away some night. Even a king could wear a cloak, and if any tavernkeep were to notice, he would wisely pretend otherwise. It would do him good to remember life outside those walls.

And it would scandalize Otto Hightower, which was reason enough in itself.

Daemon turned his attention back to the twins, both of whom seemed comfortable enough in the tavern, though he imagined they would not have seen one growing up isolated in the Gates of the Moon. “I take it Ser Thoren brought you to a few inns along the way,” he said.

“Only a few,” Jon said. “On the road north through the Vale.”

A carafe of wine was brought to the table, along with bread fresh enough from the oven to be steaming. Slices of cold meat and cheese were brought out soon after. Daemon limited himself to a single cup, and let each of his sons try a sip, taking in their mutual nose crinkles at the taste with fond amusement that turned faintly bittersweet. There were many expressions he had still to learn, to discover which emphasized their similarities and which their differences.

Each delighted him, though he had a special fondness for when they mirrored one another. It spoke to an extra bond between them that comforted him somehow.

A special treat of warm, gooey raspberries served in a bowl with a generous heaping of cold cream atop it had been sent to their table, and both his sons had eagerly devoured theirs before turning faintly envious eyes to Daemon’s own half-eaten portion.

“Is there anything else you would like to see before we return to the jeweler, and then the keep?” he asked once they had finished off his dessert.

#resonant asks #resonant concept writing #probably the most unfortunate thing about canon resonant is that they don't get to have these fun outings together 😢#also lmao this is such a view into my process as a writer #“what if daemon DESTROYS some volantene kidnappers who come after the twins”#me (nodding): yes yes okay right first lemme write a detailed timeline of the events leading up to this in the hypothetical au #me: and then write 1-1.5K of establishing background for the scene with requisite sadness #me: and then MAYBE we'll get to the actual bit you were interested in #resonant 'verse rescue au

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arabellasleopardcoat · 1 year ago

Text

Wolf (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Daemon inherits the Red Keep. He turns it into a sex club. You know, as one does.

Warnings: Modern Daemon x Hightower reader. Smut. Dom/ Sub dynamics. Overstimulation.

A/N: Daemon's views do not represent my own! Pt 2 to this. There is no need to read pt 1 to understand it, though. Also, do not learn BDSM from fanfic.

You sighed. You dropped your head, smashing the keyboard. This was unbelievable. Had your CV always looked so bland?

You erased the keysmash, and put instead, five years of experience as an CDO.

The door to your office was slammed open, making you jerk in your seat. You looked up, an annoyed remark already on your tongue, and froze. Daemon. Because who else would barge in so rudely?

“Your whorish sister is suing me.” He sat down, dramatically slumping down on the chair. “Make it stop.”

Your eyebrows raised.

“Good morning to you too.” You closed the tab you were browsing in, job offers in King's Landing, and looked up at him. It was the first time you had seen each other since the elevator incident. So far, you were unimpressed with his opening gambit. “Alicent is the most monogamous person in Westeros.”

“It was a figure of speech.”

“Whatever. I am busy.” You typed even more furiously. You had all tabs closed, but Daemon didn't need to know that. It gave you an excuse to avoid looking at him. After that afternoon in the elevator, you were too embarrassed to do so.

Despite having been the one in control the whole time, you were the one who felt more ashamed of your encounter. Once the power trip had worn off, and you had faced reality, embarrassment had started to creep in. Sitting in your father's car with a bruised throat and soaking wet underwear had been humiliating enough. Just thinking of it made you hot under the collar, and not in a good way.

Daemon, instead, had the shamelessness of a porn star. To him, it hadn't been a big deal at all, and it showed. He strutted around the building, giving you naughty little grins every time your paths crossed. The only change had come, oddly enough, from following his real Instagram. You had been added to his Close Friends and now endured the terrible, inhuman torture of watching his selfies. If his mirror pics showed any more skin, they would be dick pics.

“You won't even ask why I am being sued?”

You sighed. You stopped feigning typing.

“I don't need to ask. I can guess it has to do with the contesting of your brother's will.”

Good Gods, you had heard enough of that. Alicent was clawing at the walls and frothing at the mouth that she was getting evicted from her home. Viserys had left her a considerable amount of money and properties, just as he had done for their children. But the Red Keep, the ancestral home in which she had lived ever since they married, was going to Daemon.

Your father was impossible, too. The majority of Viserys' share had gone to Daemon and Rhaenyra, which meant they could easily kick him out of the company. If they managed to agree on something, of course.

“It does.” Daemon kicked his feet up, placing them on your desk. He made a show of getting comfortable.

“There. Out of my office. I'm working” You slapped what you could reach of his feet and calves, until he had no choice but lower them.

“Fuck, you are so…” Whatever Daemon was going to say, he didn't get the chance. You slammed your laptop closed with much more force than necessary, making him wince. “Stop that. Seven Hells, you are so uptight. Relax. It doesn't matter. It’s not like you will hold this job much longer.”

“Is this my notice?” Your eyes narrowed. “Because you need to present it written, and I have to…”

“I just mean, when Rhaenyra gets the…” Daemon started saying, but once again, you did not give him the chance to finish. If he was going to interrupt you, you were going to interrupt him too. Petty as it sounded, it brought you great satisfaction to see him squirm.

“When Alicent, Aegon, Aemond, Helaena and Daeron, you mean.” You smirked.

“God, what a mouthful.” Daemon laughed. It was annoying. His laugh was so loud and unashamed. You wanted to punch him. Or, at least, shake him and see if his only two neurons made synapse.

“Whatever.” You started to get up, grabbing your coat. Where were you going? Not even you knew, but it would be fine, as long as it was away from him.

“They could fire you still.” Daemon got up as well, blocking the exit. There was no escaping him, it seemed.

“I'll take my chances.” You snarled. Fuck, you didn't even mind Rhaenyra that much. It was the principle of the thing. What had she done for the company? Both she and Daemon just rode Viserys and Otto's success, spending money like it grew on trees and causing so many PR scandals they could as well be a controversial rock band. “Move.”

“It's still going to Rhaenyra.” Daemon placed a hand on your shoulder, holding you in place. His grip wasn't harsh, but rather, a warning. It made you think of the way he had tugged your hair, when you were on your knees… “Your sister is suing me because I want to put a sex club on the Red Keep.”

You choked on air.

“You want to do what?!”

“It's an historical building. Or so she says.” Daemon ignored you completely. To him, apparently, filling one of his ancestral properties with a bunch of naked, drunk people, was the new normal. You know, just what one does, if one is filthy rich and bored on a random Tuesday.

“It is one.” You said, a bit perplexed. The Red Keep was more than a hundred years old. Alicent had taken great care to restore the place, bringing experts from all over the world to ensure the best care for the building. You could not even imagine the look on her face when she realized that not only was she being evicted, but that also, Daemon intended to use her home as his sex dungeon.

How would that even work? Was it legal? Tourists visited the Red Keep, you knew. The place was nice, but it was a castle. You could not picture it as a club, or anything more than the home it had been for your nephews.

“The inauguration is on Friday. See you there.” Daemon clapped your shoulder, oddly sheepish. He seemed to actually want you there, which threw you for a loop. He kissed the corner of your mouth, and left, leaving you stunned in the middle of your office.

It ate at you the whole week. A few discreet inquiries confirmed that yes, Alicent sued Daemon. And then, Daemon sued back.

His official Instagram says nothing. His secret one, though, has it plastered all over. You make a note of it, sure that it will leak before the week is over. You get it right. The week passes in a flurry of desperate interns and phone calls, trying to calm down outraged members of the board. His face is all over the news, and the stocks drop. Again.

Your father is furious. Positively seething. Alicent is no better, especially the more Friday approaches. Each day that goes by, it’s one closer to losing her claim on the Red Keep altogether.

It had been a foolish choice, choosing Aemond as a lawyer. He was precisely the kind of man who never knew when to negotiate. If it had been up to you, you would have hired his associate, Alys Strong. Now that was a woman who you could respect.

You tried pretending deafness and blindness, clinging to the idea that out of sight was out of mind. It didn't work whatsoever. You couldn't stop worrying about what would happen if anyone found out about your rendezvous with Daemon last month.

Death, surely. Either throttled by Alicent, or out of sheer embarrassment of your father learning you had sex.

You should stay away from him. It was the reasonable thing to do. A one-night stand didn't mean anything. Everyone had those. Daemon was trouble. But gods, the look on his face when you had left him wanting. How powerful you had felt. Anyone would have trouble letting that go.

Friday dragged by, and you still had not made your choice. You agonized over it all day. It was only when you got off work that you made your choice. You were going, if only to see the clusterfuck with your own eyes.

Daemon had that kind of effect on you. It reminded you of the magicians at the birthday parties you used to attend as a child. He made you recklessly curious, always wanting to see what would be his next trick.

Deciding what to wear was another agonizing choice. Overall, it didn't matter. You realized as soon as you entered the Red Keep that you were overdressed. If you had shown up only in your panties, perhaps you would have blended right in.

It was tacky. It was tasteless. It screamed Daemon.

The Red Keep layout was kept the same, probably because it was an historical building and anything but would go against the conservation’s laws. All the furniture had been removed, making you barely recognize the rooms you passed. This was no longer your sister's home, but a den of sin.

The rooms were only lit by red lights, the heavy bass of some song that was probably in the Fifty Shades of Grey soundtrack echoing in the stone walls. You made your way to what used to be the dinning room, and walked towards the bar.

Tonight was meant to be a soft launch, and you intended to take advantage of the lowered prices. You asked the bartender to bring you a cocktail, but much to your surprise, the cocktail did not come alone. Instead, it came with a pamphlet and a small basket, filled with colorful bracelets.

“You have to wear one, Miss.” The bartender said. You stared.

When you were confident about what they each meant, you grabbed a purple one and placed it on your wrist.

“Switch.” Daemon whispered in your ear, startling you. “Are you sure about that?”

“Good Gods! You frightened me.” You complained, clutching your chest. To be able to speak to him over the loud music, you had to lean into his space quite a bit. By the smirk on his face, he was clearly enjoying it.

“I live for that. Frightening naive little girls.” Daemon gave a tug to the bracelet, letting it snap against your skin. “Sure about the color?”

“I am.” You moved back, scowling. You hated that he always wanted to command everything around him. The bracelet on his wrist was dominant red, making perfect sense.

“I would not say you are.” His hands were quick to catch you, one at your hip and another at your nape. Daemon ran a finger down your spine, making you shiver. “I think you are a little princess who loves submitting.”

“I am not a sub all the time.” You pushed his hands away. If anyone saw you practically on his lap, there would be hell to pay. Alicent would throw a fit, and so would your father. Besides, you didn't fancy ending up in the tabloids. “And get your hands off me, we are in public.”

“Look around, you prude. Practically an orgy.” He pressed a kiss to your jaw, and gently tilted you to face some couches in the other room. There were two women kissing, while a man was kneeling between their spread legs. None of them were wearing any clothes. You swallowed. You had been carefully avoiding looking at the others in the room. “And you are a submissive to me. You know what they say…”

“And what gave you that impression?” Your tone was sharp, but you were not as invested in the conversation as you once were. No. Because your eyes were fixed on a younger man, lingering by the corner of the room. A very familiar one, with silver hair. Was that..?

Whoever caught your attention, he was not allowed it long. Daemon stepped in front of you, blocking your view of him. One of his hands went to your face.

“Looks like one.” He pressed a kiss to your neck, open-mouthed. You hated your treacherous, treacherous body for reacting to it, a moan escaping your mouth. “Sounds like one.” Daemon kissed you, exactly at the pace that you liked. For some bewildering reason, that not even you could fathom, you kissed back. “Tastes like one. Must be one, don't you think?”

Daemon grinned at you, superiorly. Irritatingly, and just like that time in the elevator, you weren't sure if you wanted to slap the smile off his face, or kiss it away.

“I do not look submissive.” You bristled. “What in the Seven Hells gave you that impression?”

“Your eyes are all glazed over. You look fucked out and I haven't even touched you. And of course…” Daemon brushed the slope of your nose with a finger and gave it a boop. You batted his hand away, annoyed. “The fact that you were practically drooling to suck my cock a month ago.”

“First of all, that is not even a word. And you said it yourself. A month ago.”

“What? Glazed over or fucked out?”

“You sound like a bad porno.”

“A bad porno you like, little brat.” Daemon nosed along your shoulder, making your knees feel weak. He had the face of a man experiencing heaven, as if the tastiest delicacy was just there, for him to consume. “Lucky you, I love brats.”

“As if I care.” You did, but Daemon didn't need to know that. Part of you felt strangely pleased at being his type.

Daemon laughed. He kissed the tip of your nose.

“You owe me a punishment. Up for it?”

And again, contradicting all common sense, you nodded. Daemon grabbed your hand and brought you to a closed door, but before you could get in, someone pressed into your side.

“Aunt. How lovely.” Aegon said, smiling like a shark. You felt so embarrassed that you felt as if about to spontaneously combust. Daemon's arm around your waist tightened.

“Dear nephew!” Daemon smirked. “Fancy meeting you here. Tell me, how did you get in? Fake ID?”

Aegon was well over legal age, but he glared at Daemon regardless.

“With the invitation you sent me.” He then waved a hand towards you. “Does Mother know about this?”

“Well, yes. But I wasn't expecting you to show.” Daemon said, casually. Your mouth fell open.

“You sent him an invitation? Are you insane?” You shouted, turning towards him.

“I take it Mother doesn't know.”

“I wasn't expecting him to come! How would I have known?” Daemon shouts right back.

“You are mad.” You detangle yourself from him and ask the bartender for a shot. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

You down the shot so fast, you barely feel the sting of alcohol in the back of your throat. Aegon watches, amused, and asks for a drink of his own. When faced with the basket, he immediately picks a submissive bracelet and slips it on casually.

“Nice place you got here.” He complimented. Daemon ignores him, choosing instead to grab you by the arm.

“I can explain, little Hightower.”

“Fuck, you call her that?” Aegon whistles, delighted. His voice has a hint of awe. “That's dirty.”

“Shut up!” You glare at Aegon. Daemon falls quiet. “No, not you, fool. Explain.”

“I sent one to your sister, to Cole, to your father, to that boy with the stick up his ass, to Harwin and Nyra, to Helaena, to…” Daemon was counting with his fingers, and it seemed like he wasn't going to stop anytime soon.

“I get it, I get it.” You interrupted. “What for?”

“To piss them off, of course. Gods know, some of those cunts need loosening up.”

“And Rhaenyra? Is she happy with what you have done with the place?” You snarl, a bit of jealousy creeping in your tone.

“Very. In fact, I saw her disappear over there with that Cole guy.” He pointed towards one of the rooms.

“Criston? Didn't think he had it in him.” Aegon comments idly.

“He is dornish.” Daemon interjected, as if it made perfect sense. But it didn't because being dornish didn't equate with wanting to receive whatever Rhaenyra had in mind. You certainly wouldn't be up for it. Your paths had crossed with hers enough times to know that, just as Daemon, she demanded worship.

Whatever Criston was doing here, you hoped he didn't regret it in the morning. Or else, you would have to explain to Alicent why her bodyguard was moping around and hungover.

Alicent. Fuck. Criston wanted to fuck her so bad it made him look stupid, and so did Rhaenyra. Perhaps that was it. Neither of them could have her, so they settled for each other instead.

“And heavy on the guilt.” Aegon muttered.

“Well, dear nephew. As lovely as it was meeting you here, and as touching as your show of support for my fine establishment was, I have business with your aunt.” Daemon's hand presses against your lower back, urging you forwards. You give Aegon a wide-eyed look. He is not the sort to care where others stick their cocks, and you are on relatively good terms, but he could still tell.

“Gross. Does Grandfather..?” Well. No one said Aegon was the paragon of intelligence. It is for the best that you didn't answer his question. Plausible deniability and all.

Daemon and you exchange a look. Your eyes, pleading. His, annoyed.

“Anything he drinks is free.” Daemon grumbles to the barman. He knows as well as you do that Aegon is easily distracted.

“What? For real?”

Neither of you answered. Daemon kept moving, and so did you. He led you towards one of the locked doors, deftly pushing a token inside a slit, and the door opened for you.

Your expectations for what was inside were high. Needing a token to open a door must mean this place is something special. A dungeon, perhaps, or a room filled with chains and leather. Maybe even a bedroom.

But as you have often come to realize with men, having high expectations is a terrible idea. The only thing inside is a cozy-looking couch and a small table that holds a bowl full of condoms and lube. You are unable to keep the disappointed little frown from your face. Daemon had talked such a big game, you had expected something different. Something more.

“This is it?” You say, trying not to sound as disappointed as you feel.

“Yes.” Daemon sits down on the couch. You stare. You must be pretty obvious because he gives you a lazy smile. “Not what you were expecting?”

“No.” Entranced by the way his lips curl, you step closer to him.

“What were you expecting?” Daemon’s hands go to rest on your hips like it's the most natural thing in the world.

“I don't know. Whips, chains?”

Daemon chuckles.

“Oh, sweetling.” He kisses between your collarbones, mouth leaving a trail of scorching heat on its path. You gasp, feeling weak at the knees from the simple touch. Your hands go to his shoulders, clenching and unclenching on his shirt to try to steady yourself.

Thing about Daemon? He is not polite. He kisses your chest and shoulders as if he wants to devour you. Daemon is messy with it, too, leaving you covered in hickeys and saliva. It should disgust you, but it only manages to turn you on more.

The bass pounds outside the room, mixing with the heavy pulse of your blood in your ears. You could swear you can listen to your heartbeat, with how fast your heart is going. Little pants escape you, only encouraging Daemon to get wilder.

He mouths at your throat. He takes off your top, sliding it down your shoulders. You cling to him, trembling and feverish. Your nails dig into the skin of his back, you feel as if about to fall over.

“Please.” You say, and you don't even know what you are asking for. Daemon, though, seems to know exactly what you need. His hand sneaks into your trousers, finding you wet and willing. Your knees buckle.

“Shh.” His voice is soothing. “Straddle me.”

So you do. His mouth goes lower, taking one of your nipples inside his mouth. You give a small, keening sound.

“Daemon…”

“I'm on it.” He smiles against your skin and slowly starts to suck. His fingers move upwards, after collecting some of your wetness. He locates your clit with deadly accuracy and starts rubbing soft little circles.

You mewl. Your hand goes to his neck, holding him as close as you can to your chest. It's not hard for him at all to bring you over the edge. You fall over it embarrassingly fast, muffling a moan on his shoulder.

Daemon lightly bites around your nipple, making you jolt. He keeps stroking you through it, pleasurable circles on your clit turning into painful oversensitivity. You cry out, legs trying to close, but finding there is no way for you to do it with how you are straddling Daemon.

“Hurts. Stop, Daemon.” You complain, trying to get away. Instead of complying with your request, though, Daemon only holds you tighter.

“Now, little brat. Where do you think you are going?” He smirks. Alarmed, you try to break his grip, pushing at his shoulders and even attempting to cup a hand over your cunt. “I have not forgotten what you did.”

You bite at his shoulder, hard. Daemon laughs, and keeps abusing your poor clit. His fingers pinch around it, exposing more of the bead.

“What's your safeword?”

“Safeword.” You mutter back, too distracted to try to be creative. The burning sensation on your clit keeps you from it, rising and rising and making you think you are about to come again. Soon, the pain changes from a bright flame to tiny embers, making your hips chase his hand once more.

“Good girl. Clever.” He kisses your forehead. “If you don't say it, I won't stop, no matter how loud you scream.”

Your mind is at war with your nerve endings, and it's steadily losing the battle. No matter how hard you try to focus on the thought of being unable to come again this fast, your body seems set on proving the contrary.

You want to give Daemon a witty retort. Perhaps, say something about the lines of how he will disappoint yet again. Yet, you are unable to because a shrill moan is leaving your lips, and you are falling over the edge again.

Daemon, though, is relentless. He pushes a finger inside of you, searching for the spot that will make you scream. You try to close your legs, shield your body from him. It’s pointless. He has too good of a grip on you, one hand holding you open and teasing your clit, and the other fingering you.

He definitely knows what he is doing. You are suffering too much to enjoy it.

Your body jerks as if you have touched a live wire, stomach’s muscles quivering with the effort of holding you uprights. Sweat is starting to ruin your hair, making it stick to your nape and temples.

“No, no, no.” You push at him, trying to get away. This time, you half manage, falling off his lap and into the couch instead. Daemon just looks amused, and leans down to nuzzle your belly.

“Thank you.” He lifts your hips slightly, even as you start to try to kick him off. He removes both your trousers and underwear with a swift tug. “This will be so much easier.”

And so, he licks a long stripe through your folds. You moan, half pleasure, half protest. Daemon wraps his arm over your hip and pins you down. He then takes your clit into his mouth.

The feel of his warm mouth around your clit eases a bit of the soreness there. The pleasure has made you stupid, so you open your legs to give him better access. You can feel the smugness radiating off him as you submit.

He is a dragon, he will tell you later. And dragons eat naive girls like you for breakfast, dinner and supper, if they are stupid enough to let them get close.

Daemon pushes another finger inside you. The stretch feels unbearable, making you try to squirm once more, but he is moving his fingers in a come and hither motion; your body is going rigid, and you are screaming and falling and—

You lose count, after that. Your body feels abused, there are tear tracks on your temples. You feel feverish. You go in and out of consciousness, as Daemon laps at you, fingers you, rubs at you.

Time turns liquid. It slips through your fingers, moments at a time. You are not very conscious of your body, or of what Daemon is doing. There is only hot, molten pleasure and burning pain.

How much pleasure can a body take? Your hands push weakly at his head, moments later, you beg for him to use his tongue instead. He gives you a last one, forcing your body to arch and twist and making you sob desperately, before scooping you up in his arms.

Daemon's hands go to fix your top. You shake, afraid that he is going to continue and torture your nipples instead.

“No, no, no, no.” You chant. “Please. I am so sorry. Please.” You are barely aware of what you are saying. If you could hear yourself with a clear head, you would scoff at this pitiful woman who bends for the simplest things. You would scoff at her, just as you had scoffed at Daemon for being made into a slave to his pleasure.

“You won't do that again, will you?” Daemon licks your tears, and you cling to his shirt in desperation, willing to keep begging if necessary. Pleasure is as devastating a weapon as pain, you have found out. The line between the two blurs until you are not sure if you need his mouth on you again to soothe the pain, or if you need him to never touch you to stop hurting.

You shake your head. You would do anything Daemon wants.

He grabs you by the jaw, roughly.

“Say it.”

“I won't. I promise, please.”

Daemon hugs you to him. You melt, mind and body exhausted.

“You were good.” He tells you, after a while. You are not sure how much time has passed, but your head feels much more clear. “My brave girl.”

You cling to his reassurance. You tell yourself you have done good, that you endured and never even thought of the safeword. That your body was pushed to its limits, and that you were able to conquer them. Still, you ask.

“Was I good?”

“The best.” Daemon caresses your hips, drawing nonsensical patterns on the side of them.

“Thank you.” And you pull yourself together, one piece at the time. Your eyes focus, you can feel the way his chest constricts and expands with his breath. You righten yourself. “Water. I want a water.”

“You are back, I see.” He stares at you with none of the contempt he had displayed a month before. “Cunty little Hightower that you are, used to the lush life.”

“I do not think it too much to ask.” You scowl, more than ready for another round of banter. No matter how tired your body is, your mind is still sharp.

Daemon laughs.

“Get down from my lap and I will get you one.”

You do so, on shaky legs. You sit. Primly, as if not sitting naked in a sex club, but rather at the table of an important restaurant.

Daemon laughs at the sight you make, thoroughly fucked out but so damn composed it's nearly irritating. It almost makes him question if he has fucked you well enough. The tear tracks on your face seem to say so, but your demeanor says otherwise.

He comes back with your water, and you straighten a bit more. Your hands give you away, though. As sharp as your posture is, you are still shaking.

“You could come with me.” Daemon opens the bottle for you. “I would pay you.”

You feel as if you have been gutted. You are more than this, you think. A Hightower, an heiress in your own right. Not a trophy wife, not someone to be used and paid. You have a degree, you are smart. And you have sworn not to become like Alicent.

Viserys had been a kind godfather and mentor to you. He had not been a good husband to her.

“Be your sugar baby?” Already, you feel your walls rising back up. Why would he ask this of you? It must be a mockery of some sort, perhaps he has not forgotten how cutting your barbs to him once were. This must be Daemon getting his revenge.

Your mental retreat must be paired with a physical one, even if you do not realize it. Because Daemon is coming after you, his hands on your hips, pulling you back into his lap.

His face changes to something more serious. He rubs his nape, and you know, only by that gesture, that what comes next will be good. Daemon Targaryen does not do sheepish, you would say if asked. Yet here he is, blushing like a schoolboy. It makes something roar in you.

“While that sounds tempting, I like you too much for it. Respect you too much for it. But the club needs a presence on social media…”

You nearly smile. But you are a Hightower and you enjoy making him grovel. Daemon calls you a cunt for a reason, after all.

“Everyone would say I fucked the owner.” You whine, hiding your face on his neck so he doesn't see the ferocious smile on your lips. He must feel it against his skin, the most beautiful of curves, sharp teeth at his throat.

“So? Did you not?” Daemon asks because he is also an annoying asshole. The remark, even if teasing, makes something painful tighten around your chest. As much as you can pretend not to be bothered by it, this getting out would end you. Your father would die of a fit of rage, your sister would never speak to you again, not when the man you are fucking and working with is suing her to the Seven Hells and back.

Rabbits and other small prey animals freeze to avoid detection. You do the same. As if standing still may make you escape notice, will make Daemon unable to read the lines of your face and body.

“You don't have to say yes right away. You can think it over.” His hand rubs the small of your back, soft and sweet.

He can tell. Of course, he can, if the truth is written on your features so well, you might as well be shouting it from the rooftops.

Daemon smiles. He helps you dress, tenderly.

“Come. I'll drive you home.”

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hotdaemondtargaryen · 4 months ago

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EWAN MITCHELL INTERVIEWED BY DECIDER MAGAZINE.

SO KNOWING HOW HE'S SO STUDIOUS AND THOUGHTFUL, WHAT DO YOU THINK THE CHANCES ARE, IF HE STILL HAS THE DANGER, HE CAN FIGURE OUT THERE'S A HIDDEN MESSAGE THERE?

"Yeah, I think I could imagine that."

"I could imagine Aemond reading a book by the fire and he just puts it over the fireplace and then he’s privy to the information of Aegon’s dream."

"But I can’t confirm nor deny it."

ALICENT MENTIONS TO RHAENYRA IN THE FINALE THAT AEMOND PLANS TO FLY TO HARRENHAL. DAEMON HAS HAD QUITE THE SEASON THERE, BEING AFFECTED BY THE MAGIC THERE. DO YOU HAVE A SENSE OF HOW THAT MAGIC COULD AFFECT AEMOND?

"I think that’s a good question."

"I think if he was to go to Harrenhal, I think, I don’t know."

"It’s similar to what we were saying with Helaena."

"Like, if there was some sort of way that he would be able to harness that power and to use it to his advantage, he could be quite dangerous."

SO, ARE YOU EXCITED TO SORT OF DELVE INTO WHAT COULD POTENTIALLY MOTIVATE AEMONE TO OPEN UP TO SOMEONE? WHAT DO YOU THINK WOULD MAKE HIM SO VULNERABLE?

"I think just finding all of that multifaceted nuance in Aemond, and really exploring that shadow side even more…"

"You know, just constantly keeping the audience on their toes and presenting an angle of Aemond that we hadn’t really seen before."

"He always kind of looked for surrogates for his mother."

"He found it in Vhagar, so to speak."

"An old she-dragon parallel."

"And he found it in the madame."

"But is that enough? So he’s always looking for his match, so to speak."

"Whether or not he finds it is another thing."

"Maybe there’s no one good enough for Aemond."

"Maybe he’s not good enough for anyone either."

HE'S SO RUTHLESS IN TERMS OF THE WAY HE WANTS TO APPROACH THE BATTLES AHEAD. IS HIS MINDSET FOR HIS OWN GLORY AND POWER, OR IS HE ACTUALLY JUST TRYING TO SAVE HIS FAMILY AS QUICKLY AS POSSIBLE AND SECURE TEAM GREEN'S CLAIM?

"I think it’s interesting."

I think when he approaches Alicent and Helaena in Episode 8, he kind of says, 'Like, look, it’s either them or us and I’m choosing. It’s gonna be them.'

"We can’t go down without a fight."

"Because if the Blacks were to come into power, it would be the Greens heads who would be on the chopping block."

"And Aemond especially."

"So it is a fight for self preservation."

"But whether or not he has his family’s interests at heart or whether or not he’s just thinking for himself?"

"I want to leave that out there."

"I want to let people make their own judgment on that."

"I think he definitely loves his mum and he wants his mum at the end."

ONE OF MY FAVORITE SCENES IS THE ONE WHERE YOU BASICALLY DRESS DOWN AEGON IN HIGH VALYRIAN. WHAT WAS IT LIKE PREPARING FOR THAT? WAS IT AS DELICIOUS TO DO AS IT LOOKED OR WAS IT JUST ANOTHER EXTRA CHALLENGE THAT YOU JUST DID NOT WANT TO FACE IN TERMS OF MASTERING A FOREIGN LENGUAJE?

"I mean I remember doing it a few different ways, but I always kind of settled on the idea that Aemond, throughout those first four episodes, he’s just so composed."

"We see other players around the council table and they raise their voices, and Aemond is the kid who’s just acting from the peripheries."

"He’s waiting for his moment."

"He never raises his voice too much."

So in that moment, when he very much seizes a chance to attack Rook’s Rest and work with Criston Cole, he very much says, 'I’m taking over now.'

"It is a public humiliation, but he does it in such a way that Aegon is able to save face because only him and Aegon can understand it (and maybe Grand Maester Orwyle can, as well)."

"It’s something quite merciful in a way.

BEFORE THE SEASON STARTED, I TALKED TO YOU ABOUT HOW YOU STAYED AWAY FROM MATT SMITH ON SET IN SEASON 1 SO THAT WHEN THEY STARE EACH OTHER DOWN DURING DINNER, IT WOULD BE MORE IMPACTFUL. SO I'M CURIOUS, HAVE YOU MET GAYLE RANKIN YET?

"I – I have not."

OH, OKAY. IS THAT INTENTIONAL OR?

"I mean, I’ve obviously seen Gayle Rankin’s phenomenal performance in the show, but also like the Harrenhal set itself is in a different studio to the studio of the Red Keep."

"So I never really brushed shoulders with Gayle Rankin or Matt Smith this season, other than that moment when Daemon sees the vision of Aemond in Harrenal."

"I think — I think I briefly [met Gayle] at the read through."

"Briefly."

OK, COOL. I WAS JUST CURIOUS, BUT THANK YOU SO MUCH. I REALLY APPRECIATE IT AND I'M REALLY EXCITED TO SEE ALYS AND AEMOND MEET BECAUSE THAT IS A RELATIONSHIP I HAVE SO MUCH CURIOSITY ABOUT.

"No comment."

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd s2 #tv shows #team green #the greens #interview #hotd s2 spoilers #hotd spoilers #aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #aemond one eye #prince regent aemond #hotd aemond #aemond x alys #alys rivers #harrenhal #gayle rankin #aemond x alicent

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sstan-hoe · 2 years ago

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𝑫𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒐𝒏

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — aemond targaryen ×fem!reader

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — aemond doesn't like to dance, but for you, his wife he makes an exception...sometimes and today he decided not to, which leaves you to do the only right thing; make him jealous

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 — canon level violence, a bit of smut like p in v and a little foreplay, it's dirty against a fucking wall oh but it's also a bit public like everyone could walk by, also cockblock

𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 — second one for aemond my loves!!! I haven't had the idea to write for daemon yet so let's see what comes to my mind — or from you (remember to follow me before requesting)!!! follow, reblog and comment !! follow @sstanhoe-updates if you don't wanna miss anything!!!

“Aren't you going to dance with me, my Prince?” you pouted at your husband who sat at the long table along with his brother, sister and mother, next to him your empty seat. Aegon was slouching his seat in the middle of the table with a cup of wine while Haelena danced around the room. Queen Alicent sat next to the empty chair that belonged to her daughter, leaving Aemond to Aegon’s right.

Aemond gave you a chuckle, “you know I do not like dancing,” he took a sip of his wine. You walked around the table, pulling your chair away and squeezed inside the space.

You laid your hand on his cheek, “not even for your lady wife?” once again pouting, with your hand still on his cheek you slowly sat down on his lap, your other hand finding a home around his neck.

“I love you very much my lady wife, however I have to leave you alone,” he sounded sorry, Aemond took your hand from his cheek kissing your knuckles.

It was nothing new that Aemond did not like to dance, but for you he often made an exception. You thought it would work with the puppy eyes, it did not, which meant you had to raise heavy artillery…jealousy.

“Fine, if my dear lord husband won’t dance with me, I will find someone else,” you huffed and lifted yourself from his lap.

He watched you leave, swaying your hips. It didn’t take long before a lord asked you for a dance which you accepted and gave Aemond a teasing smirk. Your husband was well aware of the game you played and despised the fact that it was working.

Lord Markentower had his hands on your waist as you rested yours on his shoulders, “I cannot understand why your lord husband won’t dance with you, you’re such a beautiful lady,” everything was fine until that slime opened his mouth. “Well lord Markentower, it does not matter how beautiful I am if he refuses to dance with me,” you kept your tone as polite as possible.

“Of course it does, if I had a beautiful wife just like you then I would never miss a chance to show her off,” he sounded arrogant and sure of himself that he would even get a wife to show off with this attitude.

“Are you saying that if I was ‘ugly’ then you would not have asked me for a dance?” you always hated when men downplayed a woman's beauty just because they didn’t fit their type.

“I wouldn’t have, you are correct. Who would want to dance with someone ugly?” he asked as he twirled you around. “Do well to remember lord Markentower that just because a woman does not fit your type means she is ugly.”

The voice of the young lord annoyed you to a point where you wished you would have never taken him up on that dance, but Aemond’s reaction would soon make it better.

Aemond was still sitting next to his brother watching your every move, he noticed by the way your eyebrows furrowed and your eyes squinted that the lord must have said something to anger you but you kept your cool, trying hard to make him jealous and the worst thing? It was working.

His eye caught the lord squeezing your waist a little harshly and how he pulled you closer. The action made Aemond stand up without hesitation.

Aegon watched him amused, he enjoyed watching how you knew which buttons to press with Aemond. It was different to him, Aegon knew which buttons to press to annoy his brother but yours were completely the opposite.

The young prince walked towards you with a glare directed at the man next to you.

“Excuse me, I would like to dance with my wife now,” he interrupted the two of you. Giving him a smirk you shook your head, “I am very sorry to decline your offer lord husband, you did not want to dance with me ten minutes prior and now that I have found someone you can not just steal me away,” you teased causing Aemond to roll his eye.

Lord Markentower gave Aemond a cocky smile, “the lady has spoken and I'm not quite finished with her,” you wanted to punch him in the face.

Aemond stayed calm at first and smiled at the Lord, a smile you knew meant no good. He put a hand on the lord's shoulder, pressing down, “if your life is dear to you I suggest you take your hands off my wife,” Aemond growled.

He let go of you with a fearful expression and scrambled to get away from Aemond who snaked his arm around your waist pushing you flush against his chest.

“I have this odd feeling that you like making me jealous…,” he teased and you rolled your eyes huffing, “me? Never."

Aemond shook his head and leaned down, “you have been a very bad girl…I think this calls for a punishment,” he whispered against the shell of your ear causing goosebumps to adorn your body.

Your husband smirked at your reaction and led you out in the hallway. His mother watched the two of you leave with a concerned look, she heard the whispers about you, what the Prince and his wife were doing in the middle of the hallways.

Once outside the hall, it was only for a matter of seconds before Aemond had you pushed against the nearest wall. Mouth pressed on yours, seducing you into a passionate kiss.

His hand bunched up your dress, and a surprising sound left his lips as he noticed something missing, “did we skip something this morning my love?”

Giggling, you bit his lip, “it must have slipped my mind,” you said innocently.

“Little minx,” he muttered, his hand stroking over your glistening folds, “already so wet for me, did my jealousy make you this wet?” Aemond's warm breath collided with your skin causing you to arch your back.

Aemond dipped his middle and pointer finger inside your cunt. A moan slipped from your lips as he caressed your sweet spot.

“You wanna let the whole castle know what we're doing?” his hand trailed up to your throat gently grasping it. “I wasn't the one who pushed you against a wall like a horny–,” Aemond's hand closed around your throat, cutting off the air for a second causing you to gasp.

“You little brat,” the Prince growled before he pulled you off the wall. The way he manhandled you only turned you on more, it would be described as sick by the ladies at court. His hand was still on your throat however his grip was gentler. “I wanted to be slow and help you ease into me but now I feel like you need to learn a serious lesson,” Aemond told you as his hand moved from your throat to the small of your back.

You were led to the hallway in which your shared room laid, this hallway was more secluded from the others and at this hour no one came by anyway.

His lips found yours again, they were pure addiction giving a feeling of ecstasy every time they touched you. They were as soft as pillows and you wished they would never leave you.

Your hands cradled his sharp jaw, Aemond desperately tried to open his pants as he was still kissing. He had to put all his concentration on his pants because as soon as your lips were sealed with his everything in his head was you.

Finally he got himself free and his angry leaking tip hit his clothed stomach. Your mouth watered at the sight, you wished you could suck him off but there was no time.

Aemond broke from your kiss, in need of air, his hands howled up your dress and he took your naked thighs lifting you up to line himself right with your entrance.

“Oh god!” You shouted, you would never be able to adjust to Aemonds length in such a short time – or ever.

“Quite or do you wanna get caught?” by the clenching of your cunt around his girth Aemond smirked, “so you do wanna get caught,” he pushed his hard member inside you again, without remorse.

Alicent Hightower couldn't shake the feeling that the whispers were true so shortly after his son and wife left she followed them. She rounded the corner and gasped loudly at what she found.

Her dutiful son had you pressed up against a wall with his cock deep inside you, you were moaning and whimpering. Alicent couldn't let this get out. “Aemond Targaryen! You let go of her right this instant. What were you thinking?” she shouted at her son.

Aemond froze just like you, turning his head he looked right into the eyes of his raging mother. He cleared his throat and let you down before turning around to tuck himself back in.

“I'm sorry your grace–,” “do not worry my dear, I will have a talk with Aemond about this and his behavior, he shouldn't have seduced you to this, go rest dear,” the former Queen said now in a softer tone. You nodded shamefully and turned around to leave but not before you looked at Aemond again.

You winked at him and gave a little smirk, it was not over yet.

#aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x black reader #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfic #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen one shot #aemond targaryen #my one eyed prince 💫🐲

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