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themotherofblood · 2 years ago

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My dear author, I know your requests are closed, but I couldn't miss the opportunity so I'm going to try my luck… If you can make an exception, I can get an inspired imagine/oneshot Daemon x Dornish reader in "tabaah ho gaye" by Shreya Ghoshal, with a lot of anguish (breaks my heart) but with a happy ending, please? (feel free to ignore and if you can't accept it I completely understand)

yes!! i’m loving all the bollywood inspired chapters. I was hoping I could use this as a part of the dragon and the dancer since y/n is a dancer and she could be ripping a solo in the mirrored palace like madhuri. Also just for the sake of the story we are gonna pretend that these girls magically know the same choreo as Y/N because we are doing things old school bollywood

masterlist

Part 2 of The Dragon and The Dancer

Daemon Targaryen x Martell! Reader

There was much bustling around the Old Palace in the past fortnight, Qoren’s nameday was upon Dorne and the celebrations as usual were to be magnificent, the Mirrored Palace was brighter yet again, every candle burning anew as sweet jasmine filled the palace; coating its walls in the sweet aroma of the flowers. It had been ten years since this palace was used, there was no joy in using it other than when you spent your nights there.

Another reason to rejoice was thrust into your hands by the gods and you simply didn’t want to linger in the misery of your loss, you provided the Sand sisters with keys; under guise that they would be performing for Qoren, along with your younger cousins of nines and tens. You step daughter Rhaena amongst the little girls, you had gotten her ghungroos of her own, made of blue cloth and light gold bells of her ankles to adjust to. She had been running a muck in her chambers, the little bells jangling as she tested her newest trinket.

You had already been dressed for hours, dressing your little cousins as they could barely standstill for more than a few moments, Rhaena’s curls were put in a puff over her head with a stringlet of dahlias, in a beautiful gold ensemble that matched yours, Baela had gone out with her father to mingle with guests arriving from all over Westeros and Essos.

You had led her out, hand in hand as her eyes wandered over to the sea of guests, many ladies approached you; to greet the newly minted wife of the rogue dragon. Many wondered what you had that they didn’t, many frowned at your colour; scoffing at your exoticness. Your husband was rather easier to spot, his striking silver hair inviting you over from a crowded room of people. You shuffled your way to him, offering more polite greeting to whomever spoke to you.

Daemon had been scowling at an envoy, sent to sway your father about the fighting in Stepstones and side with Craghas Drahar; your father had another reason to remain neutral, he wouldn’t harm your husband’s prospects for your sake but refused to side with them for old time nemesis sake. You reached near him as you followed his path of vision to lay upon a much familiar man, a man you wished you would never see again when you left his court at six and ten.

“You are going to make my men and I very happy.” His grimy fingers held your cheeks as he presented you with your own ghungroos.

You immediately intertwined your hands with Daemon’s, almost slotting yourself behind him as the old master recognized your face and gave your a filthy once over before approaching you. Daemon hadn’t quite realized what the man was looking at until the old master stopped to greet them.

“Ah, sweet Y/N. Look at how you have grown,” He gestured at your body as you partially hid behind Daemon. Given where the man had come from, it didn’t take long until Daemon out the pieces together.

“Prince Daemon!,” The old man sneered “Are you here to entertain us with your dragon?” He japed, you could see a nerve bursting in Daemon’s head as he held your hand tighter.

“Here to celebrate with my wife actually, you know. The princess of Dorne.” He gestured at you.

“I wish- wish you good luck in convincing my father, old Ser.” You gave him a practised petty smile before letting Daemon drag you along to the main hall in the Old Palace. The old master’s eyes widened as he watched you embrace Qoren and he placed a fatherly kiss upon your forehead as you wished him a happy name day.

You had found yourself in the chambers were your sisters and cousins all lounged before the performance, you informed them of your withdrawal without any reasoning before stomping to your own personal chambers. Daemon had caught up to you as he found you angrily undoing the knots of ghungroos to free yourself of them. Daemon kneeled infront you, offering to replace his stable hand with your shaky one’s as he undid the knots as you ranted your reasoning.

“I re- refuse to dance for such perverse, his entire court has seen me much bare than I am.” You sighed angrily, “I really wanted to dance for Qoren.” You pouted. Daemon found your reasoning justified as he pulled you onto his lap.

“You have the world’s time to dance for him again, you should do it when you feel ready, not when the known world thinks you are.” He pressed a kiss to your temple.

That was weeks before Daemon Targaryen had decided to descend dragon fire into the Stepstones.

“Your niece’s husband has a dragon!” You reasoned in stress as Daemon prepared his dragon.

“This is the matter of my house, wife. I must fight.” He urged frustrated, hoping for you to see reason in his excursions but all you could picture was you being widowed.

“And what of me? Your daughters? Don’t you owe us your life too?” You bellowed, yanking his gloves from him. He now looked at you perturbed and the scene you were causing. He motioned you to return his gloves and you insolently refused.

“Perhaps if your father would have provided men, this wouldn’t have happened!” This time Daemon let his frustrations get the best of him as he yelled at you, yanking his gloves free from you hands.

“You know I tried!” You shook your head, hoping to fight the tears that threatened to spill.

“You should have tried harder! Or mayhaps your claim to his heart isn’t as meaningful as he poses it to be.” He snapped before existing the chambers. He too didn't want to fight this war and yet he wouldn't allow shame to loom over his brother’s name.

You followed the girls out to the beach mount, Caraxes remained idle as he waited for his rider to mount him. Baela began petting the red dragon, talking to it as if he understood every word. However Caraxes held an odd attention towards you as his giant nostrils flared as he kept sniffing at you. You couldn't quite place what he meant to do and yet pet his snout, hoping he would return your husband to unspoiled; regardless of how angry you were at him at the very moment.

Daemon embraced both his weeping girls, kneeling at their level as they pressed kisses on either side of his cheek before he kissed their foreheads. He looked at you with guilt, hoping to gorge his words from before down his stomach and hitting his head with a rock over how tactless he had been, he came to embrace you; leave you with a parting kiss and yet you pulled away. Pointing at his red dragon, demanding him to leave, he approached once more but you shook your head. Again aggressively point at his dragon.

Daemon’s guilt-ridden eyes gave the women of his life one more look as they embraced one another before Caraxes let out a shrieking whistle and whisked him to the orange clouds of dusk. Just like that he was gone.

Your anger simmered in the coming fortnight as letters began to arrive from the Stepstones, they were written in haste as stains of dirt adored the corners of the papers. He wrote for his daughters and you, making the war sound like an entertaining ballad for his daughters and yet you knew the truth of how ineffectual the dragons had been in this war. He was fighting by hand, starved and pained.

Perhaps the distance and stress for your husband began to claw at your health, you grew nauseous everytime you laid awake to brink of morning as you wondered what he would be doing, was he hurt; was he alright?

Then the universe japed at you as you sat with Maesters, your stomach could barely keep down anything you were eating and as of last fortnight, your handmaidens began behaving oddly up until when they dragged you to the Maester’s chambers.

“Mayhaps two moons princess,” He exclaimed as he washed his hands “Shall I call for your father?”

You shook your head as you rubbed your belly, shaking your head as you realized the night conception. Qoren’s nameday.

More letters were shared between Daemon and you, yet you hid your condition from him; you knew if you told him he would evade his sense of strategy and begin recklessly tearing through people to end the war, with no adhere consequence of his own mortality. The fighting turned dirty as more Velaryon men lost their lives.

You had confessed your pregnancy to your father as you lounged with him at the beach, he had been elated; far too ready to throw yet another extravagant feast and you refused. Urging for him to hold off until your husband returns and not to mention this to anyone else. Perhaps they would figure it out as your belly grew but for now you needed to tell Qoren just to alleviate the gnawing sense of doom in your heart.

Then the letters grew less frequent, muddier and rushed as he professed his love over and over again. Every time you would wish upon them and burn the letters, praying he be returned to you whole. Until a moon turned and his letters stopped entirely, within the three moons he had left, you had never felt the kind of dread you had felt in the moment when the Maester informed you of no letters.

You fought your hasty beating heart, quarrelling for it to stop, to let you breathe normally for just a moment. You rummaged through your chests, hoping to find your ghungroos. For just a while you needed to escape this fear, it was the only thing that would protect your child from yourself. You hurried towards the Mirrored Palace.

The doors had been wide open as echoes of girls giggling and talking were heard from within the main hall, you didn't care to usher them out. You just needed to dance. You had opened the palace for the girls to dance in, it was a shame to keep such a place locked away when it was built with much love for your mother.

Your sisters saw you approach looking troubled, they understood why and sympathized. Some of them caught onto your growing belly during the last turn of the moon. Others figured it out from how you refused to eat certain foods that were once your favourites. Many figured with the four months remaining of your pregnancy, any wife would grow paranoid about their husband’s absence.

“Care to join us, dear sister,” Aliandra spoke up, shushing all your Sand sisters in the process. You didn't say a word, just nodded as your handmaiden helped you tie the ribbons in your ghungroos. Your sisters, with Baela and Rhaena had spent a better part of an hour; arguing over which song to dance over. They knew a few pieces that your mother had taught them and yet everyone had their favourites.

You simply walked to the middle, shrugging your shawl off to not have it in your way, you needed to dance, free-hearted and unabashed. They all awaited, letting you pick the song out of courtesy in your distressed state. You let out a wavering sigh before tucking your right leg behind the left.

Your sweet voice let out the first line of the song, and the master of musical arts and his entourage immediately recognized the song. The strings played their part as a melancholic tune echoed the marble in the palace.

A war widow’s prayer, a macabre choice in tunes and yet far too fitting to portray what it is you were battling within. It called for the safe return of her husband, how she offered her life to the gods for the safe keeping of her husband. Your sisters looked at one another before joining you at the center, all of your ghungroos created a melodic jangle as you danced as one. Rhaena remained seated, still unaware of this piece.

The flute chimed in, calling for the joyous days between Daemon and you, you closed your eyes envisioning the afternoons you had lounged on a sailboat as his daughters swam in the sea. The second verse forces you to remember the sheer aura that drove you toward him, the adoration you held toward him that scared you to the core, praying that your own envy of his essence wouldn't reflect as ill will.

You turned, and so did your sisters; making your skirts flare out in unison. You had to stop for a moment, your singing choked in a sob, as the words whimpered out of your mouth. The colours of your sisters' dresses blurred within the tears pooling past your eyes, they kept dancing knowing better than to not let you feel the anguish you were in.

You recalled your arguement, you hadn't let him kiss you when he left. It couldn't be the last time you kissed him, it simply couldn't. You refused to let that fight be the last of your conversation; even if you had to travel to the Stepstones yourself. There was one thing evident in the last three moons is how incapable of pure joy you were without him. A piece of your heart, packaged in the belongings that he took with him.

Your feet began to ache, from the change in your body due to babe but also how hard you landed on the footwork. The last verse past the bridge echoed across the walls, the notes of your siren-like voice called for far more spectators as you laid your emotions out on the floor, he needed to be okay- he had to be okay. As the last beats of percussion led to the crescendo of footwork, a foot soldier stopped at the gates of the Mirrored Palace, whispering something in your hand maiden’s ear, Her eyes widened as she ran inside, looking toward your dancing figure.

You paused in the middle, everyone still finishing the piece around you, she whispered something to your daughters who ran out of the palace. The shock in her eyes filled your stomach with dread as you walked past your dancing sisters, the thud of ghungroos as you took hastily walked towards the main gates, rubbing at your swollen stomach; far too afraid that if you lost your husband your body would force you to lose this last part of him too.

“Please don't be dead.”

You stopped right by the doors, far too afraid to witness what was behind them. You patted your tummy, taking deep breaths as the knights stationed by the door opened them at your approach. There kneeled Daemon, head buried between his daughters’ shoulders as he engulfed them in his giant arms, you stood atop the stairs as tears of relief replaced the ones of anguish from moments before.

You hurried down the stairs, stopping merely a few feet away from him, praying that he was real. He looked up, face still spotted with specks of soot and dirt; his hair chopped much shorter as he wore a crown made of bone. His lips widened in a smile, a soft smile as he took sympathy to your tears. You threw yourself at him, sobbing the moment his arms wrapped around your shaking body.

“I thought- I thought.” You stammered still sobbing as he held your face in his hands “Your letters stopped and there was no news Daemon.” He nodded, letting your emotions pour out of you “I thought you were dead.” You wailed. He lifted you hand to his thudding heart inside his chest

“See, not dead,�� He wiped your tears “I’m here, I’m here.” He cooed as his daughters also wrapped themselves around you and him. You caressed Baela’s hair as you felt her rubbing your arm.

You finally calmed down enough to pull apart, most of your emotions were to be blamed on something Daemon was unaware of, until he pulled back to give you an adoring once-over. His eyes stopped at your middle, letting his hand trail to the soft yet firm swell of your belly. It was unapparent from the fullness of your skirt at first glance but his eyes shot to you, a thousand questions looming behind those purple eyes.

“Five moons now,” You informed him, still sniffling as you smiled wider at his shock.

“Healthy?” He asked, still unable to grasp that there was a child within you.

“Healthy.” You nodded, Daemon’s eyes remained fixated on your middle before he engulfed you once more, picking you off your feet and twirled you around. You shrieked.

Daemon had not only returned victorious despite his brother's shunning and misjudgements but also returned to become a father to three children. There was much preparation to be done since he planned to take his wife to the king's landing, and use the celebrations of his great victory as a momentous event to introduce his wife, and now oncoming child to the court. Just as he had his twin daughters.

That night a steaming bath was prepared for the prince to wash himself of the muck and grime from all the fighting. It has only been mere hours since he learned of your pregnancy and had already begun the chicken mothering, he insisted that you lay in bed until he was done, before that he scolded you for bending to untie your ghungroos and anklets, kneeling down himself to undo them. You, however, as little defiant as ever followed after him to the bath.

He dropped his robe, giving you a full view of his back and the newest burns coating his left side. You gasped making him turn and scowl at you. “What did I say about going to bed?”

You shrugged the subject entirely, frowning at the gashes and stabs of arrows on his body. Your feelings bubbled up to a precipice yet again as your bottom lip wobbled. This time you scowled at him, pushing him towards the bath before dropping your own sleep shift to the ground.

Whatever Daemon was mildly irked over just moments before absolutely abandoned his mind, his eyes took in your bare body, the swell of your breasts and your prominent belly. He had no choice but to cave as you joined him in the bath, shuffling to straddle his legs as you gently washed at his wounds. He hissed out loud making you flinch your hand away.

The frown on your face was all too adorable as he chuckled at your reaction, he had lost feeling to the burned side of his shoulder long before and yet the concern on your face for a devious man like him made him melt behind his demeanour. One thing he knew for sure, was that after this bath, with no mind to the injuries that still caused him discomfort, he was going to ravage your swelling body like a beast gone feral on a full moon.

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aurorasilverthorne · 5 months ago

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Fire & Blood AU ___________________

Characters Part #3:

Aegon Targaryen

The firstborn son of Viserys Targaryen & Alicent Hightower. Brother to Aemond & Helaena. Husband to Rhaena Targaryen & father to their only living son Jaehaerys Targaryen. Regrets abdicating the iron throne. Never loved his wife. Acts more like a friend than a father to his son. Is the rider of Sunfyre, a male dragon with gold scales, orange frills on his neck & body, pale pink wing membranes, & bright amber eyes.

Rhaena Targaryen

The second child & younger daughter of Laena Velaryon & Daemon Targaryen. Late wife of Aegon Targaryen & mother of Jaehaerys. Died of infection after giving birth to her only son. Rider of the dragon Sheepstealer, a male with muddy reddish brown scales.

Helaena Targaryen

The only daughter of Viserys Targaryen & Alicent Hightower. Sister to Aemond & Aegon. The wife of Vaemond Velaryon & mother to Shaeira. Rider of Dreamfyre, a she-dragon with light blue scales & silver markings. A pacifist & prophetic dreamer who wants to live a peaceful life.

Shaeira Velaryon

The only daughter & sole child of Helaena & Vaemond. Rider of the dragon Morning, a young female with pink scales & black crests & horns. Is like her mother in both personality & in the fact she's a dragon dreamer.

Vaemond Velaryon

The younger brother of Lord Corlys "The Sea Snake" Velaryon. Husband of Helaena & father to Shaeira. The admiral of the Velaryon fleet. Has been dubbed "The Lord of Salt & Sea." An ambitious man sick of living in his brother's shadow. Is one of the few who knows about & truly believes in his wife's prophecies.

Laena Velaryon

Daughter of Corlys & Rhaenys. Twin sister to Laenor. Late wife of Daemon. Mother to Baela & Rhaena. Rider of Silverwing, the she-dragon with silver scales. Died in childbirth along with her unborn babe due to complications.

Daemon Targaryen

The younger brother of Viserys Targaryen. Husband of Laena & father to twins Baela & Rhaena. Uncle to Rhaenyra, Helaena, Aemond, & Aegon. The second rider of Caraxes the Blood Wyrm after his own ncle Aemon & before his niece's eldest son Jacaerys. Died by his own hand to ensure his family wouldn't contract greyscale after he'd caught it defeating Craghas Drahar "Crabfeeder" during the battle for the Stepstones.

Rhaenys Targaryen

The wife of Corlys. Velaryon. Mother to the late twins Laena & Laenor. Grandma to Baela, Jacaerys, Lucerys, & Rhaena. Great grandmother to Vaemond, Elaena, Visenya, Jaehaerys, & Aerion. The aunt of Shaeira. Rider of Meleys, the female with scarlet scales, greenish yellow eyes, & copper horns.

Corlys Velaryon

The Lord of Tides & Lord of High Tide on Driftmark. "The Sea Snake." Husband of Rhaenys, father to the twins Laenor & Laena. Grandfather to Baela, Jacaerys, Rhaena, & Lucerys. Great grandfather to Elaena, Visenya, Vaemond, Aerion, & Jaehaerys. Master of the royal fleet. Sailed to many places far & wide & brought back rare treasures from his voyages. Displays them in The Hall of Nine. Is determined to earn his place in the history books.

___________________

Disclaimer: I do NOT own House of the Dragon or any of its characters.

Reminder: Shaeira is my OC. She belongs to me. The image of Shaeira was made by Bing Image Creator. If anyone uses her or the image in fanart or fanfiction, please remember to credit both the Bing Image Creator & me as her creators. Thank you.

Part #1: https://www.tumblr.com/aurorasilverthorne/758175401181872128/characters?source=share

Part #2: https://www.tumblr.com/aurorasilverthorne/758186985867345920/characters-2?source=share

Part #4: https://www.tumblr.com/aurorasilverthorne/758227678086283264/blood-fire-au-characters?source=share

Part #5: https://www.tumblr.com/aurorasilverthorne/758449181436362752/fire-blood-au-characters?source=share

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 1 year ago

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A Hand for the King

Pairing: Viserys I Targaryen x Otto Hightower Warnings: Crack fic, coercion, slight dubcon, handjob. Word count: ~1.1k

Summary: Viserys requires some convincing to send aid to the Stepstones.

Author's note: A request from my boo-bear @em-writes-stuff-sometimes - she wanted Vizzy on Otto action, so that is what I have delivered. This is a crack fic - please don't read if you are easily offended. Community labels are for cops. Technically, Lyonel Strong would have been Hand of the King during the time period that this covers, but this is a crack fic and this is my house, so I'll do what I want. I don't have a tag list - please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

“Your Grace, Vaemond Velaryon calls for aid,” Tyland Lannister places his palms flat against the Small Council table, as he looks at King Viserys, “the war in the Stepstones against the Triarchy is not going well, and Velaryon supplies are running dangerously low.”

Viserys lets out a slow exhale, coupled with a slight shrug of his shoulders. “Corlys and Daemon started this war against my wishes, why should I send aid?”

“Your Grace–”

Otto raises a hand, silencing the Master of Ships. “Thank you for your counsel, Lord Lannister. The King and I will discuss this matter privately. You will have word on what action the Crown has chosen to take in due course.”

Tyland releases a frustrated sigh, but nods before rising from his seat and filing out of the Council chamber alongside the rest of the attendees. Only Otto and Viserys remain, seated side by side at the head of the table.

Sparing a sideways glance at Viserys, Otto feels himself withering inside. The King looks so proud of himself, chest puffed out and a faint smile upon his lips. Yet his vacant eyes denote a man who is utterly clueless to what goes on around him.

Otto wagers to himself that if he were to crack open the old fool’s skull and look inside he’d find a court jester cartwheeling around the empty expanse of it, such is the idiocy with which he chooses to rule.

He thinks he proffers peace, but he will be the ruin of us all.

A gentle touch is needed here, lead him to it, let him think it’s his own idea, try to avoid doing that. He shudders at the thought.

“Your Grace,” Otto begins, turning slightly in his seat, “might I offer my thoughts regarding the unrest in the Stepstones?”

“By all means,” Viserys responds with a smile and a bow of his head.

“Your brother and the Velaryons have been at this for three years now, might it be an idea to put an end to it? There can be no peace while war rages on, no matter whose fight it is.”

Viserys rubs at his brow, looking weary. “It is the responsibility of the Velaryons to keep their shipping lanes clear, and it is Daemon’s folly to involve himself in another’s battle in a misguided attempt at achieving glory.”

Seven hells. Has the rot spread to his mind too?

“A fair point, Your Grace,” Otto reasons, “But Prince Craghas Drahar…Crabfeeder…whatever they are calling him, simply cannot be allowed to do as he pleases. Eventually, the Velaryons’ inability to trade is going to affect the entire realm. It is in the best interests of the Crown to take action.”

Viserys hums thoughtfully, clasping his hands in front of him. “A most compelling argument. I shall need to ponder on it a moment. Would you care to help me?”

Dread and revulsion swirl in Otto’s gut. “Viserys, please…”

“Oh come now, Otto,” Viserys fixes him with a knowing look, his hands moving to unlace his breeches, “you know this helps me do my best thinking.”

Otto grimaces as Viserys works to free himself. He had hoped it wouldn’t come to this, and yet somehow it always does. He had no idea when he’d been awarded the position of Hand of the King that it would be a title that would be quite so literal.

Every time the King is required to make a difficult decision, to be made to see reason, Otto’s skills as Hand are put to vigorous good use, and it is not his powers of persuasion that work to do this.

In his years of servitude Otto has stroked Viserys to relief on numerous occasions. The most notable occurrences were to convince him to remove Daemon from office as Master of Coin, again to strip him of his title as Master of Laws, and to sway Viserys to choose his daughter, Alicent, as his wife when Aemma had died in childbirth.

He sits with sick disbelief at the thought that the same palm that has aided in knocking down The Rogue Prince will now play a part in lifting him up. Otto cringes at the thought of Daemon’s reaction were he ever to find out what has happened in order for his brother to agree to help him win this war. It is an effort that would be unappreciated, but would certainly earn a mocking laugh.

Sending up a silent prayer that word of what he’s about to do never goes beyond the four walls they currently occupy, he reaches out gingerly, doing his best not to look directly at it.

For the good of the Seven Kingdoms.

Viserys’ turgid member is warm against Otto’s fingers as he wraps them around it, and he swallows down the bile that rises in his throat, as he begins to stroke up and down the shaft.

Ripples of disgust roll from his chest to his stomach as he focuses on keeping his breathing steady through his nostrils, ignoring the way that the King’s foreskin shifts within his grasp.

He keeps his thoughts on the resources that they will have shipped to the Stepstones, blocking out the sounds of Viserys’ satisfied sighs and quiet groans.

Otto has been Hand of the King for Viserys ever since he was crowned. He has seen the rot spread, watched him deteriorate slowly. He wonders if a time will come when he might tug so hard at his cock that it will separate from his body entirely. It’s a gruesome thought, but would at least put an end to this torment.

He speeds up his movements, eager to get this over with and is relieved when he feels Viserys tense, bucking his hips slightly as he spills his seed with a grunt.

Otto pulls his hand back, regarding the spend that now coats his fingers with abject disgust.

Viserys offers him a pleased smile, tucking himself away. “You may inform Tyland that Vaemond will have the aid that he requests.”

Otto nods, pressing his lips into a tight line before speaking. “Very good, Your Grace. If I might be permitted to wash my hands first?”

When Otto later learns that Daemon has rushed to defeat the Crabfeeder single handedly, after receiving news of the help that would be sent, and has been crowned King of the Stepstones and the Narrow Sea, he wishes he hadn't washed his hand. There’s nothing he wants more than to have had the opportunity to wipe it upon his foolish, smug face.

A hand for the King, that has been for naught.

#viserys i targaryen #viserys targaryen #viserys i targaryen x otto hightower #viserys x otto #otto hightower #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd crack fic

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starogeorgina · 2 years ago

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Broken bonds

Paring: Ser Harwin Strong/ OC

Warnings: None

1.04

You stand on the opposite side of the painted table from Daemon, while Ser Harwin stands in the corner of the room. Originally, you tried to keep him out of your scheming and planning, but your uncle insisted that he be present. His reasoning was that your sworn protector wouldn’t be able to do his job properly unless he knew what was going on. You and your uncle had been going back and forth on who would be most likely to betray your family’s house and side with the Lannisters if it came to that.

“Jason and Tyland are loyal to House Targaryen. I doubt either of them would listen to Thomas,” you sigh. “The biggest threat we have is the crossbow. If our dragons are taken out, we are left vulnerable without them.”

Your uncle's face twists into one of anger. Only a true dragon rider could understand the special bond between Targaryen and his dragon. “What about the Hightowers?”

“They wouldn’t need the excuse of war to plot against our house. Given the opportunity, Otto would push for Aegon to be king instead of Rhaenyra. I'm surprised he hasn’t already started planting that seed in my father's ear.”

Daemon clicks his tongue while tapping his fingers against the table, growing impatient. He wanted the threat to be dealt with, not caring if it provoked others, just as you wanted to avoid any further conflict. You shift your weight from foot to foot, watching silently as Daemon looks over at the knight, studying him. “Ser Harwin, do tell us your opinion?”

“I don’t consider my words to be of any use in this matter.”

See, Harwin had been holding his tongue all morning, which you were grateful for, but your uncle wasn’t going to let it go. You both valued Harwin’s judgment, but if he disagreed with Daemon, it could be the thing that causes your uncle to snap. The knowledge that your father's sister was in danger had him more riled up than normal.

“Perhaps it’s not—”

“Ser Harwin," your uncle ignores you; he claps his hands behind his back while facing the knight. “Your job is to protect a Targaryen princess; your words are far more useful than you realize.”

“Have you considered informing the king of the plan to usurp his heir?” He asks. “You said he believes in dragon dreamers.”

Daemon looks blankly at the knight before walking back to his original position at the table, giving you a sideways look as he does. “Viserys has always been a father before he’s been a king.”

“The weapons being built are being kept under Ely's house,” you say, changing the subject. “We need to destroy them before they can ever be used.”

“We eliminated Craghas Drahar and his army, and we will eliminate this threat all the same.”

You remain silent as you try to figure out a plan in your head, trying to push away the sound of screaming you hear in your dreams. Eventually, you come up with a possible solution that would hopefully avoid any bloodshed. “My sister will be married soon,” you say, getting their attention. “Rhaenyra is the realm's delight; even those who aren’t invited will stand outside for hours to see a glimpse of her before her wedding.”

Daemon catches on to your trail of thinking, “leaving Ely's house unarmed.”

“We would all be at the wedding so nobody could point the finger at—”

Your conversation is cut short by a knock at the door. You open it to see a nervous-looking servant; she didn’t look older than two and twenty. You knew by the way she directed her gaze at your uncle and the fresh bruise-like marks on her neck that she had most likely had sex with him the night before.

“Princess,” she greets you before leaning in and whispering in your ear.

You smile at her and ask, “Your name?”

“Bethany.”

“Thank you, Bethany; I will see to it right away.” When she is gone, you turn to face Harwin and Daemon and say, “It seems Varos has been picking fights with Caraxes.”

“Again?” Your uncle chuckles. “I thought he would have learned from their last encounter.”

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to go and see what injuries he’s obtained.”

You heard your uncle chuckling before offering Ser Harwin a drink. Servants and knights stop and bow when they see you walking down the hallways. Being polite, you always smiled back, but your face dropped just as you were about to step outside. Arthur Weststar. You made a mental note to ask your uncle why an ally of the Lannisters was on Dragonstone.

—-

“Dracarys!”

You laugh loudly as Varos breathes fire into the air one last time before landing on the beach. The moment your feet hit the ground, you were left with an uneasy feeling settling in your stomach. You could sense many eyes on you from afar. “Varos, jikagon.”

At your command, Varos takes flight. You didn’t particularly like parting with him, but your desire to keep him safe was much greater. Compared to Syrax and Caraxes, Varos was just a baby dragon. He likes to fight with the older dragons, often toying with them until they snap, biting back at him, and he’d fly away. You found it ironic in a way, because you and Rhaenyra used to do the same thing. Being carefree children without responsibility, you’d playfight for hours in the garden, only to return covered in mud, cuts, and small bruises. Now, Varos often returns to you with cuts and grazes on his body.

You weren’t overly concerned by the other dragons, knowing Cannibal was the only one that caused a real threat, but the idea of humans harming him terrified you. It was a miracle either of you survived the war for the Stepstones. The crossbows Thomas intended to build wouldn’t do much damage to an older, larger dragon, but to Varos, it would definitely kill him.

—

Daemon pours himself a drink while observing Ser Harwin, who was looking out onto the beach from one of the towers. “Dragons are beautiful creatures, aren't they?”

“Yes, the beauty of Caraxes is not exaggerated.”

Daemon sniggers into his own cup before offering one to the knight. “I was meaning my niece.”

He watches in amusement as Harwin swallows his drink, pretending not to have heard him. They stand in silence for a few moments, watching as two dragons circle each other in the sky above the beach Princess Vaella is on. The bottom half of her dress was soaked as she walked on the shoreline, unbothered by the sand and water blowing onto her from the strong winds. Although Daemon’s relationships with Vaella and Rhaenyra were very different, he loved both of them to the bone.

Perhaps it was because Daemon was an outsider looking in, or because he’d spent most of his life in the shadows observing others, but he recognised the fiercely protective look in Harwin’s eyes whenever the name Thomas Lannister was mentioned. “When the day comes and my dear niece finds herself without a husband, potentially suitable suitors will be lining up to ask for her hand in marriage.” Daemon clicked his tongue, waiting for the knight to reply, “Of course it will only be her dragon womb they seek.”

Harwin’s eyes darkened, his jaw tensing. “Unfortunately, most men wouldn’t think twice about marrying a Targaryen for political purposes.”

Daemon smirked, “But you are not most men, Ser Harwin.”

#house of the dragon #ser harwin strong x you #ser harwin strong #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fandom #house of the dragon fanfic #ser harwin strong/you #ser harwin breakbones #ser harwin strong fanfic #ser harwin strong x oc #harwin strong x you #harwin strong x oc

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giurochedadomani · 5 months ago

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re: daemon and loki being besties, because they both would SO MUCH be besties, I'm picturing Loki being the infamous bastard son of one of the most powerful families in Lys who almost razed the whole city to the ground manipulating everyone into yet another war against Myr and Tyrosh in a desperate attempt to prove his worth to his father

after a series of infortunate misfortunes, he crosses paths with daemon as he's about to be nailed to a post by the crab feeder crew and Loki convinces him to save his life in exchange for important info to defeat craghas drahar

after daemon kills the crab feeder himself, Loki joins as part of the rogue prince uuuh interesting entourage and he's taken to dragonstone and king's landing, where he'll end up as master of the rumours

a lot will be said about him, the pale lysean beauty that accompains the rogue prince. that he is a warlock, that he practices the dark arts, that he can change sex at will and that much like the spider that he is, he's weaving a net of lies around daemon, yet another bad influence whispering in his ear

being a bastard, most ppl think that a part of it it's true: that he's a liar at heart. daemon sees him for what he is: like himself, a second son desperate for approval

and if loki just so happen to really, really like maester mobius in dragonstone, well. daemon's not gonna judge

#house of the dragon #hotd #daemon targaryen #loki #marvel #lokius #I know the logical choice would be to make loki a greyjoy bastard to keep with the viking vibes #but let him be a menace in the free cities he'd enjoy it so much

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kingcunny · 1 year ago

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CARCINIZATION - TEN THOUSAND YEARS OF CRAB WAR

#studio album + b sides and demo comp #craghas drahar #crabfeeder #hotd #my edits #my posts

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gotham-at-nightfall · 2 years ago

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House of the Dragon (children’s book style)

By José Cobá

#this looks really neat #house of the dragon #daemon targaryen #craghas drahar #rhaenyra targaryen #laenor velaryon #vermax #lucerys velaryon #the dragonkeepers #fanart #behance

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eschercaine · 2 years ago

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After King Viserys’ second marriage with Lady Alicent Hightower produced a son, his resolve to maintain Rhaenyra as his successor started to crumble. But little did he realize that Rhaenyra already knew what he was about to do.

Or: A one-shot fic in vignettes that is occupying my mind, but unsure if I’m ever gonna publish it. What I’m posting right now is just a draft.

“I intend to marry…” Viserys’ voice wavered, and his gaze shifted to the right. “Alicent Hightower before spring’s end.”

Since that day, her personality had changed abruptly, leaving the people around her in shock. Her indifferent attitude was rarely accompanied by a smile, and her sharp words often left others feeling degraded. She retreats from the world, refusing to speak to anyone except her maidservants, who attends to her every need. She immerses herself in books and flies with her dragon, her only escape. Her purple eyes gradually grew darker, never regaining the glimmer they once had.

Her clothing made the most dramatic impression. The princess used to dress in a kaleidoscope of colors, but now she only wears a single hue: black, with a Valyrian steel ruby necklace to break the monotony.

Soon, people began to slyly comment and whisper amongst themselves, dubbing her the “Black Princess.”

Viserys noticed the change in his daughter, but he kept quiet, his gaze lingering on her.

On the day of King Viserys’s wedding to Lady Alicent, neither the Arryns, the Velaryons, Prince Daemon, and, surprisingly, the king’s own daughter were present at the festivities.

The Vale was not pleased when the news of the king’s second marriage reached them, for it was rushed and disrespectful towards their kin, the late Queen Aemma.

Daemon and Lord Velaryon were holding a war council to discuss the disposition of the Stepstones. After ridding the Stepstones of its pirate infestation, the Westerosi lords were happy to pay the Triarchy’s tolls for safe passage. However, the avarice of Craghas Drahar and his Lysene and Tyroshi co-admirals had driven up the tolls to outrageous levels. Lord Corlys was most hurt by these tolls, and he was determined to defeat the Kingdom of the Three Daughters.

As for Princess Rhaenyra, she quickly departed to Dragonstone a sennight before the wedding, eager to undertake the responsibilities she would inherit as heir; it was an excuse, however imperfect it may be.

Otto was livid with the lack of respect shown towards his daughter, the new queen. But King Viserys swiftly comes to their defense, seemingly realizing the effect of his actions.

He later comforted his friend, assuring him that they would one day accept Alicent as their queen.

On Prince Aegon’s first nameday, there were feasts and tourneys that lasted for several days, and Rhaenyra attended both for the sake of appearance.

And as the nameday celebration drew to a close, the king gathered every lord and lady in the Great Hall. His deep voice was filled with regret as he spoke of his shortcomings and pledged to do better, ultimately leading to her disinheritance.

Then, he stood up from the throne and declared Prince Aegon of House Targaryen as his new heir, and the air filled with the sound of thunderous applause and cheers.

Through the corner of her eye, Rhaenyra glimpsed Otto’s victorious smirk while Alicent shifted uncomfortably as the clapping became louder.

With trembling lips and slumped shoulders, she walked away, seemingly accepting her defeat. But the moment she left the room, her lips curled into a smile and her joyous laughter filled the hall, echoing off the walls.

Rhaenyra, who had grown weary of Westeros and its outdated laws, was filled with anticipation as she left King’s Landing for Dragonstone, her cloak swishing against her in the night wind.

Once she had her dragons and her possessions gathered, she took to the skies and soared to the Stepstones, where her uncle Daemon awaited.

If I look back, I am lost.

She did not look back.

If the lords of the realm won’t accept a woman to rule the Seven Kingdoms, then so be it.

She will establish her own kingdom, with its own customs and laws.

#house of the dragon #hotd #triarchy au #daemyra #rhaenyra x daemon #daemon x rhaenyra #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen #matt smith #milly alcock

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