#daemon AUs

[elodieunderglass]

I am absolutely wild and feral over HDM (legit like, daemons fit SO well. I'm watching dunmeshi wondering where Laios' dog went) and super curious if you do plan a sequel or other fics following this AU??

(In reference to the His Dark Materials / Dungeon Meshi fusion fic)

thank you so much for this question I love this question god!!!! Thank you thank you thank you

God sorry about HDM being delayed, I’m going through hell over it at the moment. It’s meant to end a little after the dragon, then a timeskip epilogue, with special coding so that you can read it two different ways, depending on whether you want spoilers for the manga/season 2. (My idea is that you’ll click a button to reveal/hide it, and the spoiler-free epilogue will be like found poetry.)

Firstly, if you or anyone else would like to take the concepts/characters in His Delicious Materials forward for themselves, you must do this. You don’t need my permission (but I’d love a link! so I can read, scream, reblog, comment, link to it, etc. there is also the “inspired by” setting on ao3 so we can link works directly to HDM, forming a collection for anyone who reads one and wants more.) I don’t own any of it! We are all just having fun! YOU can be the sequel you want to see in the world! If your heart feels a way forward, then follow your heart!! A daemon AU is really about revealing character and I find them really inspiring, like adding a whole engine to a story idea.

If I were to write something to follow up, I do know what the sequel WOULD be! It would be a sort of Discworld novel about the slow social revolution occurring in the half-foots as a chain reaction to Bee settling as a weasel, all occurring behind Chilchuck’s oblivious and unhelpful back. Pushed into a sort of bottleneck of sparrow- and mouse-souls, and marginalised to the very edges of society, half-foots are precarious and endangered. Chilchuck is mostly eating a ham sandwich unhelpfully in the foreground, and at the end of the story looks back and sees to his bewilderment that his people have found a way forward (they don’t have a Shire or a Chosen One, but they do have a goddamn functional worker’s union and their own collective dignity.) kind of Discworld-commentary-comedy, kind of a loving argument with Tolkien, kind of Sharpe hostile-and-awkward-protagonist-POV-doesn’t-know-and-wouldn’t-believe-that-his-men-genuinely-love-him, kind of about the experience of parenting, and kind of gently warmly political BUT FUNNY so it would be ok. but feel it would be too much of a stretch of people’s patience and the original materials’s intentions to call it fanfic. Too many OCs needed to carry the weight, too little reference to the other Dungeon Meshi characters, almost too little “payoff” for what would be a full 70k word work. So maybe to let the story breathe, it would be better worked up as original fiction?

(Plus, that is actually an actual novel: if people write their own novels and manga about orc coffeeshops and dnd parties, I could just write my own too: wait but how do you know if you should?)

Anyway, that is an entirely separate kettle of weasels and my own cross to bear! If your heart cries out for a sequel the best way to manifest it in the world is to write it!

If you feel that A Weasel Heart In Defiance feels like it would scratch that itch, here is a bit that is mildly relevant to Dungeon Meshi, which is Chilchuck and Bee starting to work away from home while the girls were still small. You’ll probably see what I mean from it.

About seven of the village children, including his own three, had a snake in a wooden bucket. They didn't look up.

The reappearance of a random guy who functioned mostly as a postal service and occasionally shouted at them about bedtime - in a way that could be easily blanked out if something more interesting was happening - simply could not be expected to compete for attention with a snake in a bucket.

Chilchuck could recognise this on some level, but as his own children ignored him, he felt very hot and angry, in a way that he had never wanted to feel about children, especially his.

Bee, also rigidly pissed off, growled, "Easy, boss."

This was where Chilchuck did the only thing so far that he was proud of, in this day. He did not start shouting, even though his temper was going something like What the fuck, kids, but worse. He stopped, took a minute, and remembered he'd had this whole thing where he'd wanted his kids to love him. He rubbed his nose, said, "Remind me," and his daemon reminded him: "What do we want them to actually do?"

And he said, "The bare minimum fucking acknowledgement would be nice."

And Bee said, "Have we explained that to them? Do they know?"

So Chilchuck and Bee, hot and tired and cross and still on the job apparently, sat down on the ground with the kids and looked in the bucket. The snake, poor bastard, looked very limp and tired. Chilchuck could relate.

After a while, Chilchuck said, "Girls?"

Or more accurately, something like, "Girls! Girls. Meifleurpatti-I mean Puck-PUCK. Listen up. Mei! Fleur, I'm talking - thanks Fleur - Puck. (Ryeland, stop the baby.) PUCK. Mei, Fleur, Puck - PUCK, eyes on me - thanks, Ryeland - PUCK. EYES," which condensed in parent-speak to a single roar of "Girls!"

When he had them more or less listening, he remembered to set his voice to the more singsong cadence one used for children, instead off the deeper version of his natural voice that he used for shouting at the top of his abilities at tall people; making the choice to be patient and gentle, or at least pretend to be someone who was; and in this manner he said reasonably, "Now, your dad's been away for a very long time and missed you all very much. What do you say? What do you say when your dad comes home?"

Six children stared at him blankly, and the baby toppled gently into the bucket. He fished it out, stuck it sideways under his arm, allowed the snake to escape in the confusion, acknowledged someone's grievously injured finger, stopped Fleur from pinching, took out his pocket handkerchief and wiped Puck's nose in essentially one continuous motion.

To be completely fair, now that he'd let go of the initial anger, he could see that the kids had absolutely no idea what he'd wanted of them. Kids had practically no social instincts at the best of times. Chilchuck coming home was remarkable, sure, but beyond their influence; how were they supposed to react? What do you say to a comet? What do you say to a hailstorm? What do you say when daddy comes home?

He repeated the question, as the children had universally drawn blanks and devolved into staring vacantly.

"Good morning, Daddy!" A child chirped helpfully, setting off the rest in an automatic drone of "good morning, Daddy," in the strangely universal dreary tone of all children saying that.

"So close, Fernwise! Is it morning? What else do we think?"

Bee, fighting for order among the kit-daemons, was simultaneously washing Fleurtom's daemon, Pantoufle's, face; receiving a long rambling report of a grievance from three incoherent witnesses; and minding the baby's chick-daemon; up to her ears in parenting. She said, around a mouthful of Pan, "Speed it up, boss, you're losing them."

"Where are your spots, Daddy?" Pan asked him. He was in the form of a young ferret and scrabbled against his mother's grip on his scruff.

"My what?"

"Your freckles," Bee said grimly, and seeing he'd been temporarily disarmed - and being a valiant beast in her way - charged in to her human's defense, "Is that nice, Pan? We don't want to make people feel bad about their looks, do we?"

"Yes we do," said Fleur.

"Fleur! We've just - we haven't seen much of the sun, that's all," said Bee, taking charge, the best and most loyal soul a man could have. "They'll come back, and they're not spots."

"Mei has spots."

"Freckles."

"Grimbob has spots."

"Yes, and you shouldn't notice," Bee said. "Think of Grimbob's feelings."

"I do, I think he feels spotty."

"I'm thirsty," Puck said flatly.

"Stick to the point, kids," Chilchuck said, recovering from the fact that his usual face was apparently indistinguishable to children from Grimbob's, who had been taking puberty hard. This was surprisingly difficult to do.

Ryeland, a mildly bright spark who was older than the Chils girls, connected two dots and suddenly roared "WELCOME HOME DADDY," so six children all repeated that automatically, and Fleur added sunnily, "I missed you Daddy!"

And just as a very small piece of Chilchuck's heart was finally allowed to melt, she added, equally sunnily, "Mei didn't."

"I did a little," Meijack said vaguely.

"That's great kids, well done, we got there in the end," Chilchuck said. "Remember it for next time, okay? It makes Daddy feel better about his stupid life. Now, next time, let's remember that it's traditional to do a hug."

He realised his mistake instantly, as six children and their daemons all bore him - and the baby he'd forgotten he was holding - to the ground.

___________

[elexuscal]

Okay, so back in like, 2011, I wrote the first two chapters of a Young Justice daemon AU fic. Didn't get very far, since I didn't actually know how to Find fandoms then, and it's probably languishing of ff.net somewhere, which even back then wasn't doing so hot. Frankly, since most of the cast were teenagers, I don't even think I got to the point where most of them had settled and I got to pick their daemons.

But. But there is one pick I remain pretty proud of, even a decade later: Batman's daemon.

Because there was a lot of considerations in it. Like, for the characters with super powers, I can just give their daemons the same super powers. It's a lot more viable for Wonder Woman to go around with a horse when her horse can also fly.

But no. Batman is a character in closed quarters urban environments, and famously, does a lot of scaling buildings and gliding between them. So his daemon needs to be relatively small, able to flight and/or climbing (or be able to be tucked away so that's no longer an issue). Already a lot of the obvious options are out.

And you know what would be great for this? Genuinely? A bat.

Like; nocturnal, echolocation, able to fly, obviously the aesthetics are on point. Even says some interesting things character wise! Like if we use that interpretation of young Bruce being afraid of bats, it had fascinating implications if his soul literally settles on that. And then you have the fact that while bats are usually depicted as very intimdating in western culture, they're really social animals, and Bruce adopts strays like it's an addiction... It genuinely makes sense!

Except. Except. Batman's alter ego has the highest profile of allll the DC heroes. Clark Kent can get around having a dog daemon, even one that kinda looks like Krypto; do you know HOW many people have dog daemons? But bats stand out. Do you think a bat fits the vibes of Brucie Wayne? Do you think no one would maybe get suspicious and go HEY.

So. Okay. Iterate. Small mammal; nocturnal; gliding...

It's an open question what Batman's daemon is. Some people swear they've seen a mastiff manifest from the shadows, or a vampire bat suck out a goon's blood. More claim Batman does not even have a daemon; that truly, he is undead, a vampire himself. There are even embers of the Justice League who have served with him for years and never seen hide nor hair of his daemon.

Meanwhile, on Good Morning Gotham, Bruce Wayne waltzes onto the set, his sweet daemon in a pink bow waving at the cameras...

[Image ID: a small possum posed half-concealed behind a branch. It is white with grey markings around its very large eyes. It has large eyes and ears with a vivid pink nose.]

How many jokes do people make about the sugar daddy Bruce Wayne with his sugar glider? A lot. But don't worry. The pair take it in good stride.

[finalgirlminamurray]

another thing i'd like to post on here sometime is my full list of daemon headcanons for various horror characters. i wrote these out for fun, also during the plague year, but didn't have anywhere to post them then. a lot of them are more based on instinctual vibes than the kind of deep soul-searching character analysis a lot of people do when assigning them, but i think they work pretty well.

(for those who don't know, daemons are a concept introduced in philip pullman's his dark materials series, in which everyone in the books' main setting has an everpresent magical companion that essentially represents half of their soul externalized. they settle into a permanent form upon reaching maturity, but as children can shapeshift at will. they always settle as an animal species that represents the person's personality in some way. this concept really resonated with and interested a LOT of people, even if they hadn't even read the books, and you can find a ton of fanfics under "daemon au" that aren't even crossovers with the hdm universe. i do like those books myself but i will admit that the worldbuilding potential represented by daemons always grabbed me more than the story)

anyway i was looking over my list and realized that, completely unintentionally because i'd come up with these long before winnie the pooh went into public domain, i'd unknowingly recreated 3/4 of the main antagonists of winnie the pooh: blood and honey 2

[m00ntunaart]

2nd STARWARS/DAEMON AU POST!!!!! This time with the CC's and the Disaster Lineage!

Obi-Wan: Maned Wolf (Kee-Ayt)

Anakin: Lion (maned female lioness) (Asieko)

Ahsoka: Gryfalcon (Tuex)

Cody: German Shepherd (Beskar)

Rex: Siberian Husky (Queen)

Wolffe: Wolfdog (Whitefang)

Fox: Doberman Pinscher (Vulpe)

Bly: American Akita (Lyra)

LORE TIME: first off! Jedi! So I thought a lot about how daemons and Jedi should work. I did end up deciding that Jedi GENERALLY have bird daemons (like the witches in His Dark Material), BUT not always. The Jedi having bird daemons is not a ‘All Force Sensitives Have Daemons Who Settle As Birds’ thing. It wouldn’t make sense in this AU since Force-sensitivity is a spectrum and at what level would someone have ‘enough’ force-sensitivity to have a daemon for certain become a bird? I didn’t like that narrative as much, it felt restrictive. So instead Jedi tend to have bird daemons, but not Force-Sensitives. Like all Jedi are force sensitive ( and have bird daemons) but not all Force-Sensitives are Jedi, make sense? This is because of how the Jedi raise children and teach them to interact with the force. Because of how Jedi are taught to view and use the force, their daemons tend to settle as birds! It’s ‘nurture’ over ‘nature’ thing. Which is why (in this AU at least) the Jedi don’t take in older children to train. Because they’ve already probably learned their own way to interact with the force (different from the Jedi teachings) and therefore will have a non-bird daemon! Hence Anakin having a lion daemon. “But what about Obi-Wan?” (Well since Obi-Wan is one of my favorites I get to spice him up lol). He was originally very Jedi like (daemon wise) but after the whole Jedi Apprentice/Xanantos enslaving him/Melida-Daan war thing, he daemon ended up settling as a Maned Wolf! I imagine he was just about the age where his daemon would settle (usually 13-15, which is the same reason this is the age Jedi initiates are made padawans), so it was a surprise that his daemon so abruptly changed and settled. Most likely the effects of being so abruptly exposed to violence and war right out of being only use to the peace of the Jedi temple his whole life. 

(Extra) The 3rd page of the post! Cody and Obi-Wan’s daemons! Beskar and Kee-Ayt! Even though in my doodles Beskar seems to be very grumpy and even hatful towards Kee-Ayt, DO NOT BE FOOLED. Beskar adores Kee-Ayt. Their relationship just mirrors how I headcanon Cody’s and Obi-Wan’s. Where they will harass and bitch at each other to hell and back. Sounding from the outsider’s POV like two people who hate each other. When in reality these two are joined at the hip and love each other. They just will never admit it because “we have reputations to uphold!’ (Anakin says “what reputation? the reputation that one of you would murder the other if it wasn’t for the fact the GAR would court marshal the other?”) But yeah, Beskar makes fun of Kee-Ayt’s long ass legs. The mini ‘comic’ is about how I imagine that since all the Clones’ daemons are dogs/canines, when they win a battles they have a ‘Victory Call’ where they all howl. Beskar offers for Kee-Ayt to join in, but Maned Wolves can’t howl. They do this thing called a Roar-Bark (look up a video it’s so loud). This is the first time Beskar hears Kee-Ayt roar-bark and it scared the shit out of her.

(Extra Extra) The 4th page of the post! This is mostly doodles of Rex, Anakin and Ashoka’s daemons (Queen, Asieko and Tuex). All three reflect the close relationship that Rex, Anakin and Ahsoka have. Hence Tuex nesting on Queen and Asieko trying to groom Queen (who doesn’t appreciate the rough lion tongue bath she’s getting). (In fact Asieko tries to groom Tuex and Kee-Ayt too, but Tuex is too small and Kee-Ayt just starts biting Asieko bcs she doesn’t appreciate the bath either lol). We also have Tuex dive bombing Asieko (a common occurrence whenever Anakin and Ahsoka bicker). Tuex also does this to literally anyone who slightly annoys him or Ahsoka. And lastly the little doodle of Rex and Queen screaming! Idk if you’ve ever seen videos of Huskies, but oh boy are they loud and dramatic. I think with all the stress and insanity Rex has to deal with leading the 501st, he and Queen often have therapy screaming sessions. They deserve to. 

(ALSO, I will be making follow up reblogs with lore/plot stuff for each individual character)

[hisfavegirl]

Haven Of Harmony - Daemon Targaryen x Wife!Reader.

Summary : Your marriage with Daemon became more harmonious after the birth of your twin sons, Daemon also decided to bring his family to move to Dragonstone and settle there. Your happiness increases when you share the happy news.

You sat on a carved stone bench overlooking the vast expanse of Dragonstone, the cool breeze carrying with it the sound of roaring dragons and the laughter of your children. Your silver hair shimmered in the sunlight as you watched your five children soar through the skies on their dragons, their figures cutting against the blue heavens.

Your eldest, Maegon, led the group with his fierce determination, his bond with his dragon, Verathor, evident in every dive and turn. Vaelya followed close behind, her graceful dragon, Nyserion, matching her fiery spirit with elegant precision. Aerion, as daring as ever, performed daring maneuvers on his dragon, Aurion, his laughter echoing through the sky.

Below them flew Aelor and Vaegon, the youngest of the brood, though no less skilled. Their dragons, Elyrax and Thalaxion, moved in perfect harmony as they joined their older siblings in an impromptu mock battle against Daemon, who flew on Caraxes.

You couldn’t help but laugh as you saw your husband struggling to keep up with the coordinated attacks of his children. Caraxes let out an annoyed roar when Vaelya and Nyserion swooped low and nipped at his tail, causing Daemon to grumble in irritation.

“Is this how you treat your father, you little wretches?!” Daemon bellowed, though his voice carried no real anger.

Maegon grinned triumphantly from atop Verathor, pointing his blade toward Daemon in mock challenge. “You taught us too well, Father!”

Aerion joined in the teasing, circling Caraxes with a wide grin. “Looks like you’re getting old, Father! Maybe it’s time you retired to the ground!”

Daemon’s face twisted into a comically exaggerated scowl, making you laugh even harder. “Insolent brats,” he muttered, though his smirk betrayed his pride.

Just then, Vaelya swooped low beside Caraxes, her long silver braid whipping in the wind. “Leave Father alone!” she called to her brothers, her voice indignant. “He’s still the best dragonrider!”

Her brothers groaned in playful annoyance, teasing her for being their father’s favorite. “Of course, she’d say that,” Aerion quipped, rolling his eyes dramatically.

As you watched the exchange, your heart swelled with pride. Your children were not only strong and fearless but deeply bonded to one another. Despite their teasing, their love and respect for Daemon — and for each other — were undeniable.

When the battle ended and the dragons began their descent, your children landed one by one, their faces flushed with excitement. Daemon was the last to dismount, shaking his head as he approached you. “They’re insufferable,” he muttered, though his smirk revealed his amusement.

You chuckled, reaching out to smooth his windswept hair. “They’re just like you,” you said, smiling fondly.

Daemon grunted, pulling you closer as your children ran toward you, their laughter filling the air. Vaelya threw her arms around Daemon, while Maegon and Aerion excitedly recounted their victory. Aelor and Vaegon tugged at your sleeves, eager to tell you about their dragons’ latest feats.

Surrounded by your family, you felt a deep sense of contentment. These were the moments you cherished most — the laughter, the love, and the unbreakable bond that tied you all together.

You gazed at your family seated around the long, grand table in the hall of Dragonstone, the warm glow of the torches casting flickering light upon their faces. Daemon sat at the head of the table, his silver hair catching the firelight as he leaned back in his chair, laughing at something Maegon had said.

Maegon, ever the confident eldest, was recounting his latest dragonriding exploits, his hands gesturing animatedly as he described how Verathor had outmaneuvered Caraxes in the skies. Vaelya, seated beside him, rolled her eyes playfully, a smirk on her lips as she cut into her roasted lamb.

“You only won because Father let you,” she quipped, her silver braid swinging as she turned to Daemon for confirmation.

Daemon chuckled, raising his goblet. “I’d never let any of you win. If Maegon bested me, it’s because I trained him too well,” he said, winking at his eldest son.

Aerion, sitting next to Vaelya, grinned mischievously. “Maybe next time we’ll team up, Vaelya. Even Caraxes wouldn’t stand a chance against the two of us.”

Vaelya narrowed her eyes at him. “You’d just slow me down, Aerion.”

Across the table, Aelor and Vaegon were engrossed in their own conversation, their young faces alight with excitement as they talked about their dragons. Elyrax and Thalaxion were already developing distinct personalities, and their bond with the youngest twins was clear.

You watched them all with a soft smile, your hands resting on your belly. The babe within you kicked gently, as if sensing the joy in the room. Daemon caught your eye and raised his goblet toward you, his expression softening.

“To the Lady of Dragonstone,” he said, his voice warm and full of affection. “The one who holds us all together.”

The children joined in the toast, their voices overlapping as they cheered. You smiled, feeling a deep warmth in your chest as you looked around the table at the family you and Daemon had built together.

This was your sanctuary, your joy. The laughter, the teasing, the love—it was all you had ever hoped for. And as you listened to the lively chatter and felt the gentle movements of the babe you carried, you knew the future would hold even more of these cherished moments.

As the lively chatter at the table quieted, you cleared your throat softly, drawing everyone’s attention. All eyes turned toward you, and you suddenly felt the weight of your unspoken news. Daemon, seated beside you, tilted his head in curiosity, his sharp gaze locking onto yours.

“What is it, my love?” he asked, his voice laced with concern and intrigue.

The children, scattered along the grand table, paused their conversations. Vaelya arched an eyebrow, Maegon leaned forward slightly, and Aerion exchanged a curious glance with the twins, Aelor and Vaegon.

You hesitated, your hands instinctively moving to rest on your stomach, hidden beneath the soft fabric of your gown. The secret you had kept for months felt heavier now that you were about to speak it aloud. But the love and trust of your family gave you strength.

“I have something important to share with all of you,” you began, your voice steady but soft. You glanced briefly at Daemon, who was now watching you intently, his expression unreadable. “It’s news I’ve kept to myself for a little while, but I think it’s time you all know.”

The children exchanged glances, their curiosity growing.

“What is it, Mother?” Vaelya asked, her tone eager yet calm.

Taking a deep breath, you finally said the words. “I’m expecting another child.”

For a moment, silence filled the hall as your words settled over them. Daemon blinked, his eyes widening in shock. “Another… child?” he repeated, his voice almost a whisper, as if trying to confirm what he had just heard.

“Yes,” you said with a small, nervous smile. “We’re going to have another baby.”

The children erupted into cheers and exclamations.

“A new sibling!” Aerion grinned. “That’s incredible!”

“We’ll have to prepare the nursery again!” Maegon added, his initial shock giving way to excitement. Even the twins, usually more reserved, looked genuinely thrilled, their identical smiles lighting up the room.

Vaelya leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with a teasing smile. “If it’s another brother, I’ll have to teach him some manners. I’m already outnumbered as it is.”

Daemon, however, remained quiet for a moment, his gaze fixed on you. Then, without a word, he rose from his seat and crossed the distance between you. Gently, he cupped your face in his hands, his eyes searching yours before a wide grin spread across his lips. “You kept this from me?” he asked, his tone half-amused, half-incredulous.

“I wanted to surprise you,” you admitted sheepishly.

He laughed, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “You’ve certainly done that, my love.”

As the children continued to celebrate, Daemon pulled you into a warm embrace, his hand resting protectively over your stomach. The warmth and joy that filled the hall were palpable, and for the first time in months, you felt completely at ease. This was your family, your strength, and your greatest happiness.

You stood by the window of your chamber, gazing out at the vast, dark sea stretching endlessly before you. The soft whisper of the waves blended with the cool night breeze, brushing gently against your face. The moonlight bathed the room in a silvery glow, casting shadows that danced across the walls.

Lost in thought, you barely noticed the sound of footsteps behind you until a familiar warmth enveloped you. Daemon’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you gently against him. His hand rested lightly on your growing belly, his touch both tender and protective.

He pressed a soft kiss to the crown of your head, his breath warm against your hair. “You shouldn’t be standing so long,” he murmured, his voice low and full of quiet affection.

You leaned back against his chest, finding solace in his steady presence. “I couldn’t sleep,” you admitted, your voice soft. “The sea… it calms me.”

He chuckled lightly, the vibration of his laugh rumbling in his chest. “And here I thought you might be admiring something else,” he teased, his tone playful but his embrace tightening ever so slightly.

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Perhaps I was,” you replied, tilting your head to glance up at him. His silver hair gleamed in the moonlight, and his sharp features softened as he looked down at you with a rare, unguarded expression.

Daemon leaned down, his lips brushing your temple as his hand gently caressed the curve of your belly. “Our child grows strong,” he whispered, pride evident in his voice. “And you—you’re remarkable, carrying them.”

You closed your eyes, letting the moment sink in. The weight of his words, the warmth of his touch, and the rhythmic sound of the waves all melded into a perfect harmony. For a fleeting moment, it was just the two of you and the life you were bringing into the world, wrapped in the quiet serenity of the night.

You walked slowly through the garden, your hand resting gently on your growing belly. The warm sunlight bathed the blooming flowers around you, and the gentle breeze carried the scent of jasmine and roses.

Above, the thunderous roars of dragons echoed through the sky, mingling with the bright laughter of your five children. You stopped for a moment, tilting your head back to take in the breathtaking sight.

Their dragons darted through the clouds, weaving intricate patterns as they chased one another. Maegon led the playful pursuit, his determined shouts urging the others to keep up. Vaelya, ever the fierce competitor, followed closely, her dragon’s wings cutting through the air with precision. Aerion, with his clever tactics, swooped around to intercept them, his laughter carrying down to you.

Your youngest twins, on their slightly smaller dragons, joined the game with enthusiastic squeals, their dragons roaring proudly despite their size.

A soft smile spread across your face as you watched them, your heart swelling with pride and joy. They were so free, so full of life, their bond with their dragons and each other unbreakable.

Your hand moved gently over your belly, feeling the faint but certain movements of the new life within you. “They’ll be waiting for you,” you murmured softly. “And I’m sure you’ll join them up there one day.”

Lost in the moment, you barely noticed Daemon approaching until you felt his arm slide around your waist. He followed your gaze to the sky, his lips curving into a smirk.

“They’re a pack of wildlings,” he teased, though his voice was full of affection.

“And you love it,” you replied, leaning into him.

He chuckled, placing a protective hand over yours on your belly. “Maybe one day, there’ll be even more dragons up there.”

You smiled at the thought, your gaze still fixed on your children as their laughter and the roars of dragons filled the sky. It was a moment of pure peace, a reminder of everything you had built together.

You walked alongside Daemon toward the lair where Caraxes rested. The sound of your footsteps echoed softly against the stone path as the faint roar of dragons filled the air.

When Caraxes saw you approach, the great red dragon lifted his elongated neck and moved forward with surprising gentleness. His sharp, intelligent eyes locked onto you, and instead of focusing on Daemon, he lowered his head and began to sniff curiously at your belly.

You couldn’t help but smile as Caraxes let out a low, rumbling growl of recognition, as if he understood the new life growing within you.

Daemon crossed his arms and let out an exaggerated huff. “Traitor,” he muttered, narrowing his eyes at his dragon.

You laughed softly, reaching out to pat Caraxes’ snout. “It seems he knows before anyone else, my love,” you teased, your hand brushing over your belly. “Perhaps he’s just more in tune with me than you are.”

Caraxes nudged you gently, a surprising act of care for such a fearsome creature, and you giggled at his affectionate gesture.

Daemon rolled his eyes, though the corners of his lips twitched with amusement. “I’m the one who rides him, feeds him, and yet here he is, fawning over you.”

You turned to him with a playful smile. “Perhaps he’s simply acknowledging the mother of your children—and his future rider’s parent.”

Daemon smirked and stepped closer to you, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Or perhaps he’s just testing my patience,” he quipped, though his voice was filled with warmth.

Caraxes let out a low, satisfied rumble as though he had won some unspoken contest. Daemon shook his head but pulled you closer, his protective gaze shifting between you and his loyal dragon.

You turned your head toward a dark cave not far from where Caraxes rested. A strange feeling prickled at the back of your neck, and you tilted your head slightly, as though straining to catch a faint sound.

Daemon frowned, his brows furrowing as he noticed your sudden distraction. “What is it?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

You hesitated for a moment, your eyes scanning the mouth of the cave. “I… I thought I heard something,” you murmured, your hand unconsciously moving to your belly. “Like someone calling my name.”

Daemon’s gaze followed yours to the cave, his expression turning skeptical. “There’s no one there,” he said firmly, stepping protectively closer to you. “Are you certain it wasn’t just the wind?”

You shook your head slowly, unsure. “It didn’t sound like the wind. It was…” You paused, struggling to find the words. “It was faint, but… familiar.”

Caraxes let out a low growl, his head snapping toward the cave, as though he, too, sensed something.

Daemon’s hand moved to the hilt of his sword instinctively. “Stay here,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“No, Daemon,” you said quickly, grabbing his arm. “If it’s nothing, there’s no need for you to risk yourself.”

He hesitated, glancing back at you, then toward the cave. “You’ve been restless of late,” he said softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Perhaps it’s just your mind playing tricks on you.”

You nodded reluctantly, though you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling creeping through you. Daemon led you away from the cave, his arm wrapped protectively around you, but your gaze lingered on the dark entrance, wondering what—or who—you might have heard.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. The quiet, soft whisper calling your name seemed to grow louder, more insistent, despite the absence of any visible source. You turned back towards the cave, your heart pounding in your chest. It was as if the very air around you had thickened, filled with a sense of foreboding that you couldn’t ignore. The wind had shifted, but it wasn’t the change in temperature or breeze that unsettled you. It was the call.

Daemon, still standing by your side, noticed the subtle shift in your demeanor. His sharp eyes followed your gaze towards the cave, then back at you, reading the unease in your posture. He knew you too well, and he could sense that something wasn’t right. But when he glanced back at the entrance to the cave, he saw nothing that could explain the anxiety that seemed to settle in your bones. “What is it?” he asked again, his voice tinged with concern but still a hint of uncertainty. “What’s wrong?”

You swallowed hard, trying to push the mounting anxiety down, but it was no use. “Daemon,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly, “do you hear it? The calling… it’s still there.”

Daemon furrowed his brow, shaking his head. “I don’t hear anything. It’s just the wind.”

But as you spoke, Caraxes, the great dragon, shifted his position. His massive body, usually so relaxed and calm, became tense, his eyes narrowing, his nostrils flaring. The dragon, a creature so in tune with his surroundings, seemed to sense something you couldn’t. The silence that hung in the air grew thicker, almost oppressive, and Caraxes let out a low, guttural growl, his massive head turning toward the cave, his wings flexing in readiness.

You instinctively took a step closer to Daemon, your breath shallow. “Caraxes… he’s acting strange,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, but there was no mistaking the concern in your tone. The dragon had never acted like this before, his movements sharp and watchful, his attention fixed on the cave, as though waiting for something to emerge.

Daemon turned back to the dragon, his expression hardening. He was no stranger to the instincts of his dragon, but this felt different, more urgent. He glanced at you, eyes searching your face, trying to read the fear that had crept into your expression. “We should go back to the castle,” Daemon said firmly, his hand reaching out to guide you. There was no hesitation in his voice, no argument. He had seen enough to know that something was wrong. He didn’t need to be convinced.

“I don’t like this, Daemon,” you muttered, still unable to shake the unease in your chest. You could feel your heart racing, the thumping echoing in your ears, the voice still faintly calling your name, but growing more distant with every passing second. It felt like something was waiting, something watching from the depths of the cave.

Daemon’s grip on your arm tightened, pulling you back towards the path leading away from the cave. He wasn’t taking any chances. “We’ll deal with it later, if necessary. Let’s go back now, before anything happens,” he said, his tone firm, almost protective.

You didn’t argue. The last thing you wanted was to be close to that cave any longer. You felt the presence of something lurking, something ancient, that you couldn’t fully understand, and it was pulling at your very soul. Daemon’s protective instincts had already kicked in, and you couldn’t deny that you felt safer with him by your side.

As you turned to leave, you glanced one last time at Caraxes, still poised and alert, his eyes watching the cave as if he too were waiting for something, or someone. The dragon’s unease mirrored your own, and it made your pulse quicken. What was it that lingered in the shadows of that cave?

But Daemon urged you forward, guiding you back towards the castle. The call faded with each step, the heavy presence lifting from the air, though the feeling of something unresolved still weighed on you. You weren’t sure what had just happened, or if it would come to anything, but you knew that something was out there. You could feel it deep in your bones.

As you returned to the safety of the castle, you could only hope that the strange pull from the cave was nothing more than a fleeting moment. But in the back of your mind, something told you that this wouldn’t be the last time you heard the whisper.

You sat with your daughter, Vaelya, in her room, gently brushing and braiding her silver hair. The soft glow of the afternoon light filtered through the windows, casting a warm hue over the room. She sat quietly, her hands resting on her lap, but her eyes sparkled with excitement as she handed you a small piece of fabric.

“I finished this today,” she said proudly, showing off her neat stitching. The design was simple, but her careful work and attention to detail were evident.

You smiled warmly, running your fingers over the stitches. “This is beautiful, Vaelya. You’ve done such a wonderful job.”

Her cheeks flushed at the compliment, but she beamed with pride. “I want to learn how to make clothes,” she said, turning to look at you with a determined expression. “So I can sew something for the new baby when they arrive.”

Your heart swelled at her words, and you placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head. “That’s very thoughtful of you, sweet girl. I’m sure your new sibling will cherish anything you make for them. And I’ll help you, if you’d like."

Vaelya nodded enthusiastically, her small hands gripping the fabric tightly. “I want it to be perfect. Something they can wear when they’re little and keep forever.”

You couldn’t help but smile, pride and love filling your chest as you looked at your daughter. She was growing up to be such a kind and caring soul, and moments like this reminded you of just how special she was. “It will be perfect, Vaelya, because it will be made with love.”

Vaelya looked up at you with her big, earnest eyes, her fingers toying with the edge of her fabric. “I hope the baby is a girl,” she said softly, almost shyly. “Sometimes, I feel lonely when my brothers go off to train with Father. They’re always together, and… it’s just me.”

You paused for a moment, your heart aching for your little girl. Setting down the comb, you leaned forward and cupped her face gently in your hands. “Oh, sweet one,” you said tenderly, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “I know it’s hard sometimes, but your brothers love you so much. And they’re never too far away.”

Vaelya nodded, her gaze dropping to her lap. “I know. But it would be nice to have someone to stay with me—someone like me.”

You smiled warmly and pulled her into a comforting embrace, stroking her hair as you whispered, “Perhaps the gods will hear your wish, my love. If they will it, then you may just get the sister you dream of. But even if the baby is another brother, he’ll still be a part of our family and love you just as much.”

She rested her head against your shoulder, her small arms wrapping around you. “I’ll love them either way,” she murmured, her voice muffled. “But I hope the gods are listening.”

You chuckled softly, kissing the top of her head. “We’ll have to wait and see. But no matter what, you’ll never be alone, Vaelya. You have a family that loves you more than anything, and that will never change.”

You leaned back slightly, looking into Vaelya’s eyes with a playful smile. “You know, my sweet girl, there’s something special about being the only daughter in this family.”

She tilted her head, curiosity lighting up her silver eyes. “What’s that, Mother?”

You brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear and said with a grin, “It means you’re the one who gets spoiled the most. Your father can never say no to you, can he? And your brothers? They’d move mountains just to see you smile.”

Vaelya giggled, her mood lifting. “That’s true! Father always lets me ride with him on Caraxes, even when my brothers have to wait.”

“Exactly,” you said, laughing along with her. “And when you want something, who’s the first to come running? It’s always your brothers, trying to outdo each other to make you happy. Don’t tell them, but I think you’ve got all of them wrapped around your little finger.”

She beamed, a spark of pride in her expression. “Maybe being the only girl isn’t so bad after all.”

You kissed her cheek and added, “It’s not bad at all. You’re their princess, Vaelya, and they’ll always treat you as such. No matter what, you’re cherished and loved beyond measure.”

Vaelya hugged you tightly, her arms wrapping around your waist. “Thank you, Mother. I feel much better now.”

You stroked her hair and whispered, “Good. Never forget how special you are, my darling. You’re the heart of this family, and nothing will ever change that.”

You jolted awake, your breaths coming in uneven gasps. The room was bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the window, casting long shadows on the walls. You instinctively turned to your side, finding Daemon still deep in slumber, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. He looked so peaceful, oblivious to the torment that plagued your mind.

You ran a trembling hand over your face, trying to steady your breathing. The voice—no, the thing—had followed you even into your dreams. This time, it wasn’t just the echo of your name whispered in a way that sent chills down your spine. No, this time, it was accompanied by the piercing gaze of two glowing yellow eyes, their stare burning into you as if they saw through every layer of your being.

Your hand instinctively moved to your belly, seeking the comfort of the life growing within you. The faint fluttering movements of your unborn child eased you slightly but did little to dispel the unease that had taken root.

You exhaled slowly, trying not to wake Daemon as you swung your legs over the edge of the bed. The cold stone floor against your bare feet sent a jolt through your body, grounding you momentarily. You paced quietly, your mind racing. Was this a warning? A sign? Or simply your imagination conjuring something from the depths of your fear?

Your gaze flicked to the window, the same one you had stared through earlier that day. The ocean beyond looked endless, and for a moment, you thought you saw something moving just beneath the surface of the moonlit waves. You shook your head, dismissing it as a trick of your exhausted mind.

A soft sound from the bed startled you, and you turned to see Daemon stirring. His hand reached out, searching for you in his sleep. His brow furrowed when he found the space beside him empty.

“Love?” he mumbled groggily, his voice thick with sleep. He sat up slightly, rubbing his eyes before his gaze found you standing near the window. “What are you doing? Come back to bed.”

You hesitated, debating whether to tell him what you had seen—what you had felt. But the weight of it was too much to carry alone. Slowly, you crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, your back to him.

“The voice,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “It was in my dreams tonight. But this time, it wasn’t just a voice. There were eyes—yellow eyes—staring at me. Watching me.”

Daemon sat up fully now, his concern evident in the way he placed a firm hand on your shoulder. “Yellow eyes?” he repeated, his tone sharpening. “What else?”

You shook your head, clutching his hand for strength. “That’s all. But it felt so… real, Daemon. I can still feel them, as if they’re watching me even now.”

Daemon’s grip tightened protectively. “Whatever it is, I won’t let it come near you or our children,” he said firmly, his voice laced with determination. “I’ll find out what’s behind this, I swear it.”

You nodded, leaning into his embrace. Yet, even as his arms wrapped around you, shielding you from the world, the memory of those yellow eyes lingered, a haunting reminder that something—or someone—was waiting in the shadows.

You woke up to the warmth of sunlight streaming into your chamber, bathing the room in golden hues. Your hand instinctively reached out to the space beside you, only to find it empty. Daemon’s absence was unusual. You turned your gaze to the window, noting that the sun was already high in the sky—a clear sign you had slept in later than usual.

Quickly, you rose from the bed, your movements a little slower due to the weight of your pregnancy. After a moment of washing and dressing with the help of your maidservants, you made your way toward the Great Hall, curious as to where your husband might be.

As you approached, the lively chatter of your children reached your ears, bringing a small smile to your face. Entering the hall, you saw all five of them gathered together, their silver hair gleaming in the sunlight as they talked animatedly. Each of them was full of life, their bond as siblings evident in their laughter and shared smiles.

“Good morning, my darlings,” you greeted, your voice warm. They all turned toward you, their faces lighting up at the sight of you. Vaelya was the first to rush over, wrapping her small arms around you as she glanced at your growing belly.

“Good morning, Mother,” she said sweetly. “We were just talking about dragons.”

“Of course you were,” you replied with a chuckle, brushing her hair back affectionately. The boys approached next, all of them brimming with energy as they greeted you.

Despite the joy of seeing your children, your eyes scanned the hall for Daemon. “And where is your father this morning?” you asked.

The children exchanged glances before Maegon, the eldest of your triplets, answered, “He left early. He said he had something to handle with Caraxes.”

“Something important,” Vaelya added, frowning slightly. “But he wouldn’t tell us what.”

You nodded, trying to hide your concern. It wasn’t unusual for Daemon to disappear for a time, especially when it came to matters involving Caraxes, but his absence felt different today. Something about it unsettled you.

“Did he say when he’d return?” you pressed gently.

Aerion shrugged. “No, but he told us to take care of you.”

Your heart warmed at their father’s thoughtfulness. “Well, I suppose we’ll see him when he returns,” you said, smoothing over your worry with a smile. “Now, tell me more about these dragons you’ve been discussing.”

For the moment, you decided to focus on your children, listening as they excitedly shared their thoughts on dragon lore and their dreams of flying. But in the back of your mind, the question lingered: where had Daemon gone, and why hadn’t he told you?

You watching your older triplets—Maegon, Vaelya, and Aerion—engaged in their Valyrian lessons. Their voices rose and fell rhythmically, perfectly mimicking the fluid cadence of the ancient tongue. They had taken to the language naturally, their silver-haired heads bent over their scrolls as they recited lines of poetry and prose with pride and precision. You couldn’t help but smile, a deep sense of pride swelling within you.

Not far away, your two youngest children sat on a soft rug, their giggles and cheerful chatter filling the room. They weren’t yet old enough for formal lessons like their elder siblings, but their curiosity had already begun to bloom. The maester patiently read to them from a large tome, recounting tales of your family’s storied history, while they listened with wide, fascinated eyes. Occasionally, their little hands darted out to point at the illustrations, followed by an excited string of questions.

You leaned against the wall, your hand instinctively resting on your growing belly. The faint movements within reminded you of the life you were nurturing, the next addition to your family. Your children, your legacy, were everything to you. Watching them thrive—both in their studies and their play—filled you with an overwhelming sense of fulfillment.

A soft knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts. Turning, you found one of your trusted handmaidens waiting. “My lady, everything is ready for your midday meal,” she said with a bow.

You nodded, glancing back at your children one last time before you stepped into the room. “Come now, my little dragons,” you said warmly, your voice drawing their attention. “It’s time to eat.”

Your older children exchanged a quick look before closing their scrolls, standing to join you with polite smiles. The younger two bounded toward you, their excitement spilling into laughter as they took your hands. The maester rose as well, bowing respectfully before excusing himself.

As you walked with your children, you felt a deep sense of contentment. Whatever challenges lay ahead, you knew you had built something truly special—a family bound not only by blood but by love, trust, and the indomitable strength of your shared lineage.

You sat at the head of the table, your five children surrounding you, their laughter and lively chatter filling the room. Maegon, as usual, was up to his tricks, teasing Aerion by slipping a piece of fruit onto his plate when he wasn’t looking. Aerion caught on quickly, retaliating with a playful shove that almost knocked over a goblet.

“Careful, boys,” you said with a laugh, shaking your head. Vaelya rolled her eyes dramatically at her brothers, muttering something about how they were always so loud during meals, which only made the twins laugh harder. The younger two watched with wide, amused eyes, their small hands clutching at their cups as they giggled at their older siblings’ antics.

Despite the warmth and joy around you, your eyes kept drifting toward the door. Daemon had been gone since early morning, and his absence weighed heavily on you. He was rarely away from meals, especially when the whole family was gathered. A seed of worry had taken root in your chest, and no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, the feeling lingered.

“Mother, are you all right?” Vaelya’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. Her sharp, observant gaze was fixed on you, her silver brows slightly furrowed in concern.

You smiled softly and reached out to squeeze her hand. “I’m fine, my love. Just a little distracted.”

Maegon leaned back in his chair, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. “Father’s probably off somewhere brooding over his sword. Or maybe Caraxes is keeping him company.”

Aerion snorted, but it was Vaelya who scolded her brother. “You shouldn’t say such things. Father will be here soon.”

Her words, though confident, didn’t entirely reassure you. You forced yourself to smile again, hoping it was enough to ease their concerns. “I’m sure he’ll join us shortly,” you said, though you weren’t entirely convinced yourself.

As the meal continued, you did your best to focus on your children, laughing at their jokes and encouraging their conversations. But every so often, your gaze would flicker back to the door, your heart silently willing Daemon to walk through it and ease the growing unease within you.

The soft crunch of gravel beneath your feet echoed through the serene garden, the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze offering a soothing accompaniment. Yet, despite the tranquil surroundings, your thoughts were anything but calm. Daemon’s prolonged absence gnawed at your mind, an unwelcome companion to the unease that had lingered since the strange dream.

You stopped by the edge of the fountain, its crystal-clear water reflecting the late afternoon sun. Your hand instinctively rested on your growing belly, seeking comfort in the steady rhythm of life stirring within you. The memory of those piercing yellow eyes from your dream resurfaced, sending a shiver down your spine.

Was it just a dream? Or something more?

You tried to push the thought aside, telling yourself it was nothing more than your imagination playing tricks on you. Yet, the way Caraxes had reacted near the caves, the whispers you’d heard… it all felt too coincidental.

The garden, usually a place of peace and joy, now felt slightly different—like the air itself was heavier, the shadows longer. You glanced around, your sharp instincts picking up on the faintest rustling in the bushes nearby.

“Daemon,” you murmured under your breath, your voice filled with a mixture of longing and worry.

But no one answered.

You continued to walk, your hands tracing the blooms of the roses you passed, their soft petals grounding you for the moment. Yet, your mind remained restless, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on you. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was coming, something just beyond your understanding.

For now, all you could do was wait—and hope that Daemon returned soon to ease the storm inside your heart.

The dim light of the late afternoon barely penetrated the entrance of the cave as you stood there, frozen in a mix of awe and apprehension. The cool, damp air from the cave brushed against your skin, carrying with it the unmistakable scent of earth and something more—something ancient, something powerful.

Your heartbeat quickened, a steady drum in your chest, as your eyes adjusted to the darkness. You took a tentative step forward, then another, the sound of your soft footfalls echoing faintly against the stone walls.

And then, you saw them.

Two glowing yellow eyes pierced the shadows, the very same eyes that had haunted your dreams. They watched you, unblinking, radiating an intelligence and intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

A low, rumbling growl filled the cavern, deep and resonant, reverberating through your bones. It wasn’t a sound of anger, but one of acknowledgement—a call, an answer, a connection.

As you stepped closer, the massive form of the dragon began to take shape in the dim light. Its scales were a deep shade of black, glistening faintly like polished obsidian, with streaks of gold running along its massive body. Its wings were folded close to its sides, but even so, you could sense the sheer power they held.

This was the creature that had been calling you. The voice you’d heard in your dreams, the presence you’d felt lingering in your thoughts—it was this dragon.

You took another step forward, your hand instinctively resting on your belly as if to shield the life growing within you. The dragon’s eyes shifted briefly to your hand, and you could feel a strange, almost protective energy emanating from it.

It lowered its massive head, bringing its snout closer to you, and let out a soft huff of warm air. The gesture felt like a test, as if it were gauging your courage, your resolve.

You reached out with trembling fingers, your heart pounding in your chest. As your hand made contact with the dragon’s scaled snout, a surge of warmth and energy coursed through you. It wasn’t just the touch of a dragon—it was a bond forming, a connection being forged.

This dragon had been waiting for you.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself as you whispered softly, “You’ve been calling me, haven’t you?”

The dragon let out a low rumble in response, its eyes closing briefly as if in agreement. This was no ordinary creature—it was a dragon of destiny, one that had chosen you, not just as its rider, but as its equal.

For the first time in days, the unease that had plagued you lifted. In its place was a sense of purpose, a sense of belonging. Whatever challenges lay ahead, you knew you wouldn’t face them alone.

You stepped out of the dark cave, the sunlight momentarily blinding you as the dragon followed closely behind. The ground beneath you vibrated faintly with each heavy step the massive creature took. Its obsidian scales glinted in the light, making it appear both menacing and magnificent.

As you lifted your gaze, your eyes met Daemon’s. He stood a short distance away, his sword still sheathed, his chest rising and falling as though he’d run to find you. His expression was a mixture of shock, concern, and something else—awe.

His sharp eyes left yours and shifted to the beast that loomed behind you, its golden eyes meeting his for a moment before it let out a low, rumbling growl that reverberated through the air. Caraxes, perched on a ridge not far away, responded with a hiss, his long neck stretching out as if to assert his dominance.

“Gods,” Daemon finally breathed, his voice rough with emotion. He took a step toward you, his eyes darting between you and the dragon. “You’ve bonded with it.”

You nodded, your hand instinctively moving to rest on your swollen belly. “It has been calling me, Daemon,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions. “In my dreams, in my thoughts. It was waiting for me.”

Daemon’s gaze flicked to the dragon again, his jaw tightening. “You entered the cave alone?” His voice held a hint of reproach, but it was overshadowed by the amazement in his tone.

“I had to,” you replied firmly. “This bond… it was meant to be.”

The dragon behind you lowered its massive head, releasing a deep, resonating growl as if to agree. Daemon’s lips parted slightly, and he shook his head in disbelief. He took another step closer, now standing directly in front of you.

“You never cease to surprise me,” he murmured, his hand brushing your cheek briefly before sliding down to rest on your belly. His other hand gestured toward the dragon. “What do you plan to name this beast?”

You turned, looking back at the dragon whose glowing golden eyes still watched you intently. A name formed in your mind, as if it had been waiting there all along.

“Aryx,” you said softly, the name feeling like a perfect match for the creature’s power and grace.

Daemon tilted his head, considering the name before nodding approvingly. “Aryx,” he echoed. “Fitting for one as formidable as this.”

You smiled faintly and looked back at him. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Daemon smirked faintly, his usual arrogance returning to his expression. “Worry me? You’ll be the death of me one day, woman.” His tone was teasing, but the way his hand lingered on you spoke volumes of his relief.

With one last glance at Aryx, Daemon turned back to you. “Come. You’ll have to explain all of this to the children. And I suppose you’ll want them to meet your new companion.”

You chuckled softly, feeling the weight of his arm wrap protectively around your shoulders as he led you back toward the keep. Behind you, Aryx released a mighty roar, the sound echoing across the cliffs, declaring its presence to the world.

As you walked alongside Daemon toward the training grounds, you could already hear the excited chatter of your children and the occasional roars of their dragons. The sight before you warmed your heart: Maegon, Vaelya, Aerion, and the twins were bustling around, preparing their saddles and checking their dragons. The bond they shared with their mighty companions was unbreakable, and it showed in every gesture and movement.

Daemon glanced at you with a knowing smirk. “They’ve grown so much,” he said, pride lacing his tone. “Soon they’ll rival even the best riders in the Seven Kingdoms.”

You nodded, your gaze never leaving your children. “They are remarkable,” you said softly. “But that is no surprise—they take after their father."

Daemon chuckled, his arm brushing against yours. “And their mother, who seems determined to keep surprising me.”

As the children mounted their dragons, Daemon turned to you with a playful glint in his eyes. “Come, let us join them. You shouldn’t just watch from the ground.”

You shook your head with a smile, placing a hand on his arm. “Not yet. Go with them, Daemon. I’ll follow soon enough.”

He raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued, but he didn’t press further. “As you wish,” he said with a shrug, leaning in to kiss your temple before walking toward Caraxes.

You watched as your family took to the skies, their dragons soaring into the clouds with powerful wingbeats. Their laughter and cheers echoed down to you, filling the air with a sense of joy and freedom.

Once they were high above, you turned back toward the path leading to Aryx’s cave. The dragon waited for you, his golden eyes watching your every move. With steady determination, you approached and climbed onto his back, feeling the surge of power beneath you as he rose to his full height.

“Let’s give them a surprise,” you murmured to Aryx, and with a mighty roar, he took off.

The wind rushed past you, and the exhilaration of flying filled your chest. As you ascended higher, you spotted your family in the distance. Your children were the first to notice, their astonished faces turning toward you. Vaelya’s delighted laugh rang out, and Maegon pointed, shouting something to Aerion.

Daemon turned, his eyes widening in disbelief as Aryx flew closer. His smirk grew into a full grin as he shook his head, clearly impressed.

You and Aryx joined the formation, gliding gracefully alongside your family. The children circled you, cheering and calling out to Aryx, who responded with a roar of his own. Daemon guided Caraxes closer, his voice carrying over the wind.

“You’ve outdone yourself this time, my love!” he shouted, his grin unrelenting.

You laughed, your heart swelling with pride and happiness. For a moment, as you soared through the skies with your family, all was perfect, and the world felt entirely yours.

As the wind rushed past your face, you couldn’t help but feel a familiar exhilaration coursing through your veins. This wasn’t your first time in the skies; you had flown before, though on Caraxes, with Daemon close behind to guide you. Those moments had been thrilling but restrained, as you were a guest on his dragon, not its rider.

But this—this was different. Sitting atop Aryx, feeling the immense power beneath you, was a completely new sensation. His every movement responded to your unspoken commands, the bond between you forming as if it had always been there.

You recalled Daemon’s words from years ago, the first time you’d mounted Caraxes. “You have the blood of the dragon in your veins,” he’d said, his voice steady with confidence. “It’s time you learned what that means.”

At the time, you’d been nervous but determined. Riding Caraxes had been a test, one that you had passed. Even then, you had felt the connection, the sense of belonging that came with being a Targaryen, a child of fire and blood. But riding another’s dragon, no matter how trusted, was nothing like this.

Aryx was yours. His golden eyes mirrored the fire that burned within you, and his roars seemed to echo the strength you had always carried. It was as if he had been waiting for you all along, waiting for the right moment to be claimed.

Now, as you soared alongside your family, you understood what it truly meant to be a dragonrider. Your mother’s legacy, the Targaryen blood that coursed through your veins, had made this moment possible.

Your children’s cheers and laughter brought you back to the present. Vaelya waved enthusiastically, her silver hair whipping in the wind. “Mother, you look magnificent!” she called out, her voice brimming with excitement.

Daemon, ever the watchful husband, guided Caraxes closer. His eyes gleamed with pride as he glanced at Aryx, then back at you. “I should have known you wouldn’t settle for anything less than your own dragon,” he teased, his voice warm.

You smirked, feeling more confident than ever. “I am a Targaryen, after all,” you replied, your tone playful but resolute.

The skies were alive with the sound of dragons and laughter, and for the first time in a long while, you felt utterly complete. This was your family, your legacy, and your destiny. The dragon within you had awakened, and there was no turning back.

As your feet touched the ground, the adrenaline of the flight still coursing through you, your children came running toward you with wide smiles and eyes alight with excitement.

“Mother, you were incredible!” Maegon exclaimed, his face flushed with admiration. Vaelya nodded vigorously, her silver hair shimmering in the sunlight. “You looked so powerful, flying alongside us!”

Aerion smirked, crossing his arms. “I think Aryx suits you better than Caraxes ever did,” he teased, earning a chuckle from his siblings.

You smiled warmly at them, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “It seems I’ve made the right choice,” you said, glancing back at Aryx, who settled on the ground behind you with a proud huff.

Daemon approached you then, his expression softer than usual, though his eyes still carried that glint of mischief. He placed a hand gently on your stomach, his touch warm and familiar. “The blood of the dragon runs strong in you,” he murmured, his voice laced with pride.

You chuckled softly, resting your hand over his. “And in them too,” you replied, glancing at your children, who were now animatedly talking about your flight.

Daemon leaned closer, his voice low so only you could hear. “You continue to surprise me, my love. First, you claim a dragon, and now you carry another part of our legacy.”

You met his gaze, your smile softening. “This is only the beginning, Daemon,” you whispered, a sense of quiet determination in your tone.

The moment was filled with the warmth of family, the strength of your bond, and the unyielding pride of being part of the Targaryen legacy. Together, as the dragons roared softly in the background, you felt unstoppable.

Time seemed to move swiftly, and now you were in the final months of your pregnancy. Your growing belly made every movement more deliberate, yet you couldn’t help but feel restless under the watchful eyes of Daemon, Maegon, and Aerion.

They had practically barricaded you in your chambers, determined to ensure you rested properly. “Mother, you need to think of the babies,” Maegon would say, his tone a perfect echo of Daemon’s sternness. Aerion, equally protective, would add, “You promised to stay in bed. Don’t make us get Father involved.”

Even Vaelya, your usually gentle daughter, seemed to side with her brothers, albeit with a softer touch. “It’s only a few more weeks, Mother,” she’d plead, her silver hair cascading over her shoulders as she helped adjust your pillows. “You’ll see your dragon again soon.”

The restriction stung most when you thought of Aryx. The bond you had formed with your dragon was unlike anything else, and the thought of not visiting him made your heart ache. Yet every time you mentioned it, Daemon would shoot you a look that left no room for argument.

“I’ll not risk you or our children,” he declared one evening as he sat beside you, his hand resting protectively on your swollen belly. “Aryx will wait, but these little dragons need you here.”

You sighed, leaning back against the pillows. “I’m surrounded by dragons,” you teased lightly, though the frustration lingered in your voice.

Daemon smirked, leaning closer. “Indeed, and they all take after me,” he replied, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

Despite their protectiveness, you couldn’t deny the love and care surrounding you. Even if it meant enduring the confinement for a while longer, you knew it was born of their devotion to you and the new life growing inside you.

Despite the strict orders from Daemon and your sons, you rarely followed them to the letter. You valued your moments of freedom, however small, and the garden became your secret escape.

Whenever Daemon and the children flew together with their dragons, you took the opportunity to slip away from your chambers. With the help of your most trusted handmaidens and guards, you ensured no word of your little excursions ever reached your overprotective family.

Clad in a simple cloak to conceal yourself, you carefully made your way to the garden. The fresh air and the vibrant colors of the flowers felt like a reprieve from the monotony of your confinement. You would sit beneath the shade of a tree, your hand gently resting on your swollen belly as you gazed up at the sky.

Above, the sight of your children soaring through the air on their dragons filled you with pride and joy. You could hear their laughter echoing through the clouds as they raced one another or practiced aerial maneuvers. Aryx’s occasional roar would mix with the sounds of the other dragons, a reminder of the bond you had with him, even if you couldn’t be by his side.

You often whispered to the babies in your belly, “One day, you’ll fly too. Your siblings will teach you everything.”

When their flights ended and they descended back to the ground, you made sure to return to your chambers before anyone noticed your absence. The guards and servants who had kept your secret offered you subtle smiles, understanding the importance of these small moments of peace.

But you knew it was only a matter of time before Daemon or one of your children caught on to your little rebellion. And when that day came, you were sure there would be a lecture—likely from all of them. Until then, you relished these fleeting moments of freedom under the open sky.

As you sat beneath your favorite tree, the soothing breeze ruffling your hair, a familiar voice broke the peaceful silence.

“Mother!” Maegon’s voice echoed through the garden, firm and laced with disapproval. “Why are you not in bed?”

You flinched slightly and turned to see your eldest son striding toward you, his silver hair shining under the sunlight. Aerion followed close behind, his arms crossed, wearing an expression that mirrored his brother’s irritation. Vaelya trailed behind them, her lips pressed into a thin line, clearly torn between supporting her brothers and sympathizing with you.

“I needed some fresh air,” you replied, trying to sound casual as you adjusted your position under the tree. “I promise I’m being careful.”

“That’s not the point, Mother,” Aerion said, his tone exasperated. “You’re supposed to be resting. Father specifically said—”

“Oh, your father,” you interrupted with a soft laugh. “He’ll scold me enough when he finds out. Do you really have to add to it?”

Vaelya stepped forward, her expression softening as she knelt beside you. “Mother, we’re just worried. You’re in your last months, and we don’t want anything to happen to you or the babies.”

Her gentle words tugged at your heart, and you reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “I know, my darling. But I promise I’m not doing anything reckless.”

Maegon knelt in front of you, his hands resting on his knees. “At least let us bring you back to your chambers,” he insisted, his voice softer now but still firm.

“And what of your flight practice?” you asked, tilting your head playfully.

Aerion shook his head. “We’ll return to it after we make sure you’re safely back where you belong.”

You sighed, knowing there was no arguing with them. “Fine,” you relented with a small smile. “But you’ll have to help me up. Your little siblings are making it quite difficult for me to move around these days.”

All three of them immediately moved to assist you, their concern evident in their careful movements. As Maegon and Aerion supported you on either side, Vaelya stayed close, keeping an eye on you as if to ensure you didn’t try to escape their watchful care again.

As you walked back toward the castle, you chuckled softly to yourself. “You’re all so much like your father,” you murmured, earning a collective groan from your children.

“Someone has to be,” Maegon replied with a smirk, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

As you walked back to your chambers with Maegon, Aerion, and Vaelya, you felt the sharp pangs of contraction intensify. Your hand instinctively went to your swollen belly, your breathing becoming shallow as you tried to hide the pain from your children.

“Mother, are you alright?” Vaelya asked, her brows furrowing in concern as she stayed close to you.

“I’m fine, sweet girl,” you replied, offering her a reassuring smile despite the discomfort. “Just help me get to my chambers.”

Once inside, you eased yourself onto the bed, your breaths coming heavier. “Maegon, Aerion,” you said, your voice calm but firm. “Go find your father and bring him here. Tell him it’s urgent.”

Both boys nodded, though worry was evident in their expressions. “We’ll bring him right away,” Maegon assured you before he and Aerion quickly left the room.

Vaelya stayed by your side, her small hands reaching out to hold yours. “Is it time, Mother?” she asked softly, her voice a mix of excitement and nervousness.

“It seems so,” you said, stroking her silver hair to calm her. “But don’t worry, my darling. Everything will be alright.”

She nodded, though her grip on your hand tightened as another contraction hit you. You closed your eyes, taking deep breaths to steady yourself.

“Shall I fetch the maester?” Vaelya offered, her tone eager to help.

“Not yet,” you said, squeezing her hand gently. “Stay with me for a moment. Your brothers and father will be back soon.”

The two of you sat together, the room filled with a quiet tension as you braced yourself for what was to come. Despite the pain, you found comfort in Vaelya’s presence, her strength reminding you of how much she was growing into her own.

You exhaled shakily, gripping Vaelya’s hand as another wave of contractions rippled through you. “Vaelya,” you said softly but firmly, “go now and fetch the maester—”

Before she could respond, the door swung open. Daemon strode in, his expression a mix of worry and urgency, followed closely by Maegon, Aerion, and your younger sons, each looking equally anxious. Behind them came the maester and a group of midwives, already prepared for what lay ahead.

Daemon’s violet eyes locked onto you immediately as he crossed the room in quick strides. “I told you to rest,” he said, though his tone was less scolding and more laced with concern. He knelt beside the bed, gently taking your free hand. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you managed, though your voice wavered. “It’s time, Daemon.”

Vaelya stepped aside as the maester and midwives moved to your side, their practiced hands beginning preparations. Your sons stood awkwardly by the door, unsure whether to stay or leave, until Daemon turned to them with a commanding but gentle tone.

“Take your sister to the other chamber,” he said, glancing back at Vaelya, who hesitated for a moment. “Stay together and wait for news. I’ll come for you when it’s over.”

Vaelya nodded, her lip trembling slightly as she cast one last glance at you. “Be strong, Mother,” she whispered before Maegon gently guided her out, his arm protectively around her shoulders.

Once the door closed behind them, Daemon turned back to you, his hands moving to steady you as another contraction surged through your body. “You’ll be alright,” he said softly, his voice steady and reassuring. “I’m here. We’re doing this together.”

You gripped his hand tightly, drawing strength from his presence as the maester gave quiet instructions to the midwives. The room filled with focused energy, and despite the pain, you felt a surge of determination. Soon, your family would grow once more.

You screamed as another wave of pain tore through you, your grip on Daemon’s hand tightening until your knuckles turned white. The maester and midwives moved swiftly around you, preparing for the imminent birth, but your focus was entirely on the searing discomfort and the man at your side.

Daemon leaned in closer, his voice low and soothing as he murmured, “You’re strong, my love. You’ve done this before, and you’ll do it again. Breathe with me—”

You shot him a glare sharp enough to rival the edge of Dark Sister. “Easy for you to say,” you snapped through gritted teeth, your tone biting despite the exhaustion. “You’re not the one pushing out your insufferable offspring.”

Daemon smirked faintly, though there was a flicker of guilt in his violet eyes. “Fair enough,” he murmured, brushing damp strands of hair away from your face. “But you’ve always been stronger than me. You’ll survive this, as you always do, and I’ll be here every step of the way.”

Another contraction tore through you, cutting off any retort you might have had. Instead, you groaned loudly, your head falling back against the pillows. Daemon tightened his hold on your hand, his face now entirely serious. “You’re almost there,” he said firmly, his voice unwavering. “Focus. You can do this.”

Despite your irritation, his presence grounded you. As much as you wanted to yell at him for being infuriatingly calm, his unwavering support gave you a sliver of comfort amidst the chaos.

With a guttural scream, you pushed with every ounce of strength you had, your cries echoing through the chamber. Tears streamed down your face as the pain overwhelmed you, but you didn’t stop. The maester’s voice was a distant murmur, urging you to keep going, but all you could focus on was the burning pressure and the sound of your own labored breathing.

From outside, a deep, resonant roar cut through the night—a sound that sent shivers down the spine of everyone in the castle. Your dragon’s call was filled with raw emotion, almost as if it mirrored your pain, your struggle. It was a bond deeper than words, one that transcended distance.

Daemon’s hand was in yours, his grip firm yet reassuring. His voice, usually so confident and commanding, was filled with worry as he whispered, “Almost there, my love. Just a little more. You’ve got this.”

The roar of your dragon grew louder, shaking the very walls, as if demanding your triumph. It was a primal connection—beast and rider, enduring the agony together. The sound gave you strength, a reminder of the power that ran through your veins.

You cried out, gripping the sheets with trembling hands as the maester urged you to push once more. The pain was overwhelming, your body strained beyond its limits, but you knew you were close. Tears streamed down your face as you screamed again, the sound of your agony echoing through the room.

Outside, the roar of your dragon reverberated through the castle walls, a deep, mournful sound that seemed to resonate with your very soul. It was as if the creature could feel every ounce of your pain, sharing in your struggle even from a distance.

“One more push, my lady,” the maester’s voice broke through the haze. “You can do this.”

With every ounce of strength left in you, you pushed, your cries blending with the primal roar of your dragon. And then, suddenly, the tension broke, and the room filled with the sound of a baby’s cry.

Tears of relief and joy blurred your vision as you collapsed back onto the bed, trembling and breathless. Daemon’s grip on your hand tightened, his own eyes shining with unshed tears.

“It’s a girl,” the maester announced with a small smile, carefully wrapping your daughter in a soft cloth before placing her in your arms.

You gazed down at the tiny, wriggling bundle, her silver hair already glinting faintly in the dim candlelight. Her cries quieted as she felt your warmth, her little fists opening and closing as if reaching for you.

Daemon leaned closer, his hand brushing gently against the baby’s head. “A daughter,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “She’s perfect.”

Outside, your dragon’s roar softened, almost as if it, too, was calming down now that the ordeal was over. You smiled weakly, kissing your daughter’s forehead as you whispered, “Welcome to the world, little one.”

You cradled your newborn daughter gently in your arms, her tiny fingers curling around your thumb. Her soft cries had subsided, and now she rested peacefully against your chest. A smile spread across your face as you admired her delicate features. She was perfect in every way.

The door creaked open, and you turned your head to see Vaelya standing there, her silver hair glinting in the candlelight and her violet eyes wide with joy. Her small hands were clasped together, trembling slightly as if she couldn’t contain her excitement.

“She’s here,” Vaelya whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “My sister…”

You beckoned her closer, and she hesitated only a moment before rushing to your side. She gazed down at the baby in awe, her eyes shimmering with tears. “She’s so small,” she murmured, brushing a finger gently across her sister’s tiny hand. “She’s beautiful.”

Before you could respond, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor. Moments later, the door burst open, and your four sons came rushing in, their laughter and voices filling the room.

“Where is she?” Maegon demanded, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on the bundle in your arms. Aerion followed closely behind, shushing his younger brothers even though his own excitement was barely contained.

Vaelya stepped aside reluctantly to give them room, though her protective stance didn’t go unnoticed. Each of the boys took turns peering at their new sister, their expressions a mixture of fascination and pride.

“She’s tiny,” Aerion observed with a grin, his tone teasing. “Like a hatchling."

“She’s a princess,” Maegon corrected him, his voice firm. “And she’ll grow into a dragon, just like us.”

“She already has,” Vaelya interjected, her voice soft but unwavering. “She’s my sister.”

You watched the scene with tears in your eyes, your heart swelling as your children gathered around you. They bickered playfully over who would protect her the most, but their love for their new sibling was already evident.

As the noise subsided, Daemon stepped back into the room, his gaze falling on the six of you. He didn’t say a word but crossed the room to stand by your side, his hand resting on your shoulder.

“She’s ours,” you whispered, looking up at him with a smile. “All of them are.”

“And they’re perfect,” Daemon replied, his voice low with pride as he leaned down to press a kiss to your temple.

Vaelya turned to Daemon with wide, pleading eyes, her excitement almost tangible. “May I name her, Father? Please?” she asked, her voice soft but filled with hope.

Daemon raised an eyebrow, glancing at you with a small smirk. “Do you think you’re ready for such a responsibility, little dragon?” he teased, though his tone was warm.

Vaelya straightened her shoulders, her expression determined. “I am. I’ve been waiting for this moment.”

He chuckled, nodding. “Very well, then. Let’s hear it.”

Vaelya hesitated only for a moment before stepping closer to you, her gaze fixed on her baby sister. “Her name is Nyelarys,” she announced proudly, her voice steady. “It means ‘radiant one’ in High Valyrian. She will shine brighter than the stars, and her fire will be as strong as any dragon.”

The room fell silent as everyone absorbed the name. Daemon tilted his head, a rare softness in his expression as he repeated the name quietly to himself. “Nyelarys,” he said, testing the sound. Then, he nodded in approval. “A fitting name. You’ve done well, Vaelya.”

Your sons, standing nearby, each murmured their agreement, though they couldn’t resist throwing in a few playful comments about who would teach Nyelarys to ride a dragon or wield a sword.

You smiled at Vaelya, your heart swelling with pride. “It’s perfect,” you said softly, stroking her hair. “Just like you.”

Vaelya’s cheeks flushed with happiness, and she looked down at her sister with a radiant smile. “Welcome to the family, Nyelarys,” she whispered.

You smiled warmly at Vaelya as she gazed at her baby sister, her silver hair shining in the soft light of the chamber. “Would you like to hold her?” you asked gently.

Vaelya’s eyes widened, and she looked at you, almost hesitant. “May I?” she asked softly, her voice filled with wonder.

You nodded, adjusting Nyelarys in your arms before carefully passing her to Vaelya. “Of course. Just be gentle.”

Vaelya sat on the edge of the bed, her movements careful and precise. She cradled Nyelarys in her arms, her hands supporting the baby’s head the way you had shown her. For a moment, she simply stared at her little sister, her expression a mixture of awe and adoration.

“She’s so tiny,” Vaelya whispered, a smile tugging at her lips. “And beautiful.”

You watched the tender moment, your heart swelling with pride. “She’s lucky to have a sister like you, Vaelya,” you said softly.

Vaelya looked up at you, her eyes shining. “I’ll protect her. Always. Just like you and Father protect us.”

Your throat tightened at her words, and you leaned forward to kiss her temple. “I know you will,” you murmured.

Nyelarys let out a soft coo, and Vaelya laughed quietly, brushing a finger against the baby’s cheek. “I’ll teach her everything I know,” she said, her voice filled with determination.

The sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway, and you both turned toward the door just as Daemon and your sons returned. Each of them held a cloth-covered bundle, their faces alight with excitement.

“We’ve chosen the perfect egg,” Maegon announced proudly, his voice echoing in the room. Aerion added with a grin, “Father made us climb the hardest path to find it.”

Daemon smirked, holding up the egg he’d chosen. “Only the best for our little princess,” he said, his tone teasing as he walked over to you and Vaelya.

Vaelya glanced down at her sister, then back at the egg. “It will hatch,” she said with confidence. “It has to. She’s one of us.”

You exchanged a knowing look with Daemon as the boys gathered around, their excitement filling the room. It was a moment that reminded you of the strength and love within your family, one that would endure for generations.

Tag list : @danytar @julessworldd @hangmanscoming @yazzzmints @giirlinblack @callsignwidow

[maidragoste]

The Decision

Daemon Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader, minor Harwin Strong x Velaryon!Reader, Rhaenyra Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader

Again another AU with the reader of The Sea Dragon, The Clubfoot and The Green Queen (you don't need to read it to understand this one shot because this story starts LONG BEFORE the canon of that universe).

Summary: When King Viserys announces that he plans to marry you, you make a decision to avoid becoming the king's wife.

Now you can read this bonus!

TW: This is NSFW (if you don't like it you can read only the Rhaenyra and Harwin parts)

I was dying to share this with all of you so I hope you like it!

If you want to read more of this Reader and Daemon, don't hesitate to let me know in the comments or in my inbox 🤭

REBLOGS, comments and likes are always greatly appreciated 🥰🥰💖💖

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes. Also this is my first smut so sorry if it's weird to read.

You felt your heart hammering as you waited for the king to make his announcement. Your stomach wouldn't stop spinning and you have no idea how you still hadn't vomited up what you had for breakfast.

With every passing second you have to keep yourself from running out of the council chambers. You couldn't stop looking at your father, a part of you wanted to take his hand and ask him to get you out of here but you didn't trust him anymore. You were in this situation because of him. You always knew that your father is a proud and ambitious man but you never thought that his ambition would be greater than his love for you. If your father really loved you he wouldn't have sent you to the king's chambers. He wouldn't have made you start wearing dresses that showed more skin for your visits with him. Gods, you wanted to hit your father so badly, you wanted to wipe the smile off his face because both he and you knew what Viserys was going to announce. Everyone knew it, you noticed that Otto Hightower was trying to hide his annoyance from everyone, the only one who seemed unaware of the tension in the room was Rhaenyra.

“I have decided to take a new wife,” the king began and you noticed how he and Rhaenyra exchanged a look. You were surprised to see your cousin nod as if she was permitting him to move on. Did Rhaenyra know? Did she approve of this? “I intend to get married,” he continued, this time looking at you and your father. You forced a smile as you dug your nails into your palms, feeling helpless for being in this situation “with Lady Y/N Velaryon before spring.”

Your eyes met Rhaenyra's purple ones. There was none of the love or fun you usually saw. Now she was looking at you with a mixture of pain and fury. The pain in your stomach got worse. Nyra had never looked at you like that. This shouldn't be happening.

It was obvious that she didn't know that her father was planning to marry you. You wanted to scream, you wanted to hug her and tell her that this wasn't what you wanted, that you weren't trying to steal her mother's place, that you would never do anything to hurt her.

"Rhaenyra" the king called her but the princess left the chambers anyway. You couldn't take this anymore so you went after her, ignoring your father's calls.

You followed the princess. You could feel the fabric of your dress sticking together due to perspiration, you didn't know if it was because of your nerves or because you were practically almost running after Rhaenyra. It was uncomfortable but right now you didn't care. You needed to clear things up with her. You couldn't stand that she hated you.

"Nyra" you called when she finally stopped. You two were in the gardens, in front of the heart tree. Where more than once you had Rhaenyra lay with her head in your lap while you sang her any song she wanted. Where you two used to stay out in the sun complaining about the septa's lessons while you combed her hair. This tree has so many good memories and now you fear there will be no more.

"How could you?!" she yelled at you furiously. She couldn't believe how you had been by her side, comforting her, accompanying her in her grief, remembering the stories the both shared with her mother so that later you went behind her back to conquer her father. When her father told her that he needed to take another wife she thought it would be Laena Velaryon. Not from you. Never from you. You were supposed to be hers.

"Please, Nyra, don't hate me" you begged and grabbed her hands desperately, pulling her closer to you "I swear I didn't want this but my father" you shook your head and forced yourself to continue talking trying to ignore the knot in your throat "I'll find a way to fix this, I promise" you kissed her hands.

The princess studied you for a few minutes. She needed to check that you weren't faking this just to avoid her anger. Your eyes seemed to be glazed over from the tears you were holding back and your hands clung to her desperately.

“I believe you,” she finally said and you sighed in relief.

"Thank you", you said with a shaking voice

This time it was Rhaenyra who kissed your hands and rested her forehead against yours. You closed your eyes feeling at peace for a moment knowing that she didn't hate you.

"I won't marry your father, Nyra. I promise."

If it weren't for the fact that she was now the heir to the throne, Rhaenyra would have told you that you would run away with her, that the two of you would go together on your dragons and travel the world together, and that you didn't need a husband, that if you wanted her, she would take you as a wife. But now she had obligations, she couldn't abandon everything for you even if her heart screamed for her to do so.

After clearing things up with Rhaenyra you went to your chambers. Of course, your father was waiting for you, he scolded you for your abrupt departure but he left you alone once you told him that you had managed to calm the princess's annoyance. Being alone you decided to put your plan into action, first you took a bath with the purpose of relaxing and getting rid of any trace of nerves you had before, then you put on one of your simplest dresses and placed a hooded cape on top to hide your hair. You were leaving the castle and you didn't need anyone to follow you.

You successfully slipped away and headed out into the streets in search of Harwin. You knew that today he had to stand guard on the streets of Flea Bottom. A girl in your position shouldn't be here but you didn't care. You needed to talk to him as soon as possible.

“Harwin” you called him when you finally found him.

“Lady Velaryon, you should not be here,” said the guard, gently hugging you by the shoulders and taking you to a corner further away from the people.

It felt bad to hear him call you in such a formal way when for weeks he had been calling you by your name or “sunshine”, the nickname he had given you. You remember like it was yesterday when you kissed him for the first time after he explained to you that the reason he called you that was because you brightened his days every time he saw you.

This sudden formality was like a slap in the face and he confirmed what you already feared.

“You know,” you declared sadly.

“My father told me,” he admitted, releasing you. You weren't surprised since Lyonel is on the council and had been present at this morning's meeting. You suspected that Harwin's father thought it would be best for him to find out from him rather than from someone else since you were sure that Lord Strong and your parents knew about the meetings between you and Harwin. You thought it was no secret that he was courting you, but apparently, not everyone knew because otherwise, Viserys would not have chosen you as his wife. Or maybe he knew but didn't care.

“This doesn't have to change what's between us,” you said as you stood on tiptoe to have his face closer to yours. “I don't want to marry the king. I want you” you whispered against his lips but without touching them. Harwin had to control himself from closing the small distance between you and kissing you. “Make me your wife,” you asked before capturing his lips with yours.

You froze when Harwin walked away from you.

“I can't,” he whispered and closed his eyes to avoid seeing the disappointment on your face.

“I thought you loved me” In your voice there was more anger than sadness but your body language was different, you found yourself hugging yourself trying to comfort yourself. You were disappointed.

“I do,” he stated firmly, opening his eyes so you could see that he spoke sincerely. “I love you. If it were any other man he would fight for you but…”

His silence told you everything. He loved you but it's not enough to face the king.

“You're a coward,” you spat and left the way you came.

You didn't really think Harwin was a coward but you were hurt by his rejection. You felt stupid to believe that whatever Harwin felt for you would be bigger than any coherent thought but you can't blame him after all any intelligent person would be afraid to go against the king's wishes and steal his fiancée…

But all was not lost, you knew someone well who was not afraid of Viserys and could help you. It was a desperate move and your parents would think you were an idiot for this but you refuse to be the king's wife. You had seen how as the years went by and with each pregnancy, Queen Aemma deteriorated. You didn't want the same thing.

You wrote to Daemon. You told him that the king wanted to marry you but that you were seeking to avoid this marriage and that you needed his help. You waited anxiously for his response while you had to feign excitement every time someone talked about your wedding preparations. Luckily it didn't take that long for a crow to arrive with the rogue prince's answer. There were no reassuring words in his letter, the only thing the scroll said was "Come to Dragonstone."

And that's what you did. Nobody suspected when the next day you went on the back of your dragon since everyone knew that there was not a day in which you did not disappear for a couple of hours to go flying with Nightwing.

"My prince, Lady Y/N Velaryon!" The guard announced your arrival before letting you enter the chambers where the prince was staying.

Daemon, who had seen you approach with Nightwing from the window, had his back turned but turned to look at you. He hasn't seen you in months. Your hair was longer and you seemed to have changed the way you dressed. The blue dress you were wearing seemed to have more cleavage, it wasn't anything scandalous enough for the court to talk about but it did draw attention.

"It's good to see you, Y/n" Daemon stated making you smile. You were sure that this was the first sincere smile you had given in days.

You waited for the guard to leave. Once you heard the sound of the door closing, you began to walk towards the prince without haste, trying to show as much confidence as possible. Normally you wouldn't be nervous around Daemon but you hadn't seen him in months and he was the only person who could help you. You didn't want to ruin this.

*I'm wondering the same. These months without you were boring "You weren't lying or trying to sugarcoat it to achieve your goal, it was simply the truth. Every time he leaves court you wish for his return.

"You still didn't come after me" Daemon held back his smile when he saw the surprise in your eyes.

He liked seeing that look in your eyes. Every time he brings you something new from his travels, every time he teaches you a new move in the training yard, every time he asks you for his favor in tournaments. How he had missed seeing you. He wouldn't tell you but he had missed you these past few months. So imagine his fury when after so long the first news he receives from you is that his brother plans to marry you. You are too much of a woman for Viserys. His brother wouldn't know what to do with you. You would spend the rest of your life bored. Daemon couldn't allow it.

"I didn't know you wanted that," you said, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"I invited you to go with me on my next trip, didn't I?"

Before Queen Aemma's death, when you helped Daemon put on his armor for the tournament you complained about the lengthening of his travels. The prince's response was to invite you to go with him next time. You were so excited to accompany him on his trips that you didn't wait for the tournament to end to ask your parents for permission. But then Aemma died and you didn't dare leave Rhaenyra.

You laughed. “That wasn't a trip, Daemon. Viserys exiled you.”

"And now he will exile you" he mocked, making you irritated but you quickly forgot about your irritation when Daemon placed his hands on your waist and pulled you closer to him, leaving your bodies pressed together. You should be uncomfortable with this but you're not. "You understand? Right? You know what you were asking for when you asked me for help?" He asked, studying your reaction. He needed to see that you really understood what you were about to do. This was your time to repent. But he didn't find uncertainty in your eyes if not desire, you looked at him with pure desire.

"I know," you responded, trying to ignore the flutter of emotion you felt at the intensity of the prince's gaze. You should be against doing this after all your reputation would be ruined but deep down you always wanted to have even a little bit of Daemon.

In reality, there was always a tension between the two of you. More than once you two ended your fights in the yard more irritated than you were before you started because after so much friction, touching, and sweat you both wanted to do something else that you couldn't. You didn't want to be the other woman and Daemon for once wanted to make things right with you. He hoped that one day Viserys would annul his marriage to Rhea Royce to take you as his wife. That day never came but that didn't matter anymore.

"You will take me as your second wife" While you spoke your eyes couldn't help but stop a couple of times on his lips.

Daemon tilted his head a little and gently brushed aside a strand of hair to whisper in your ear "I'll do it. If you want that" you shivered as you suddenly felt his breath on your neck. It doesn't take long for you to feel his warm lips against your skin. You unconsciously stretched your neck, leaving him free to continue spreading more kisses. With each kiss, you felt your body warmer. You can't help but wonder how his lips will feel just as good on another part of your body. “People will talk about us,” he warned, snapping you out of your fantasy.

You knew what Daemon was referring to, not only would it be a scandal if the king's fiancée married another but also if that other is Daemon Targaryen, the king's brother, and an already married man. People who don't understand his family's customs won't think your marriage is legitimate, and if you were to have children with him people would probably think of them as bastards. Also, the court could compare your marriage to one of Maegor Targaryen's many marriages. The kingdom would talk a lot about you two, even your family's name and respect could be damaged by this. Your father might never want to speak to you again in your life and your mother would be disappointed in you. You had thought about all this at night before receiving the prince's response. And yet you were determined to go ahead with this.

“Are you worried that the court will call you Second Maegor? Because I'm sorry to inform you but they already call you that” you said, managing to make Daemon laugh a little. You smiled when you heard him but your smile was soon replaced by a gasp as you felt his teeth biting into your neck.

“A wife shouldn't make fun of her husband,” he said making you roll your eyes, knowing that he wasn't serious and just wanted to mess with you. “If you marry me, this will not be just a marriage in name.”

You weren't an idiot. It wasn't enough for you to just marry Daemon. Viserys might still want to annul the marriage if he saw that you were a virgin but if it was known that Daemon had already had you then the council would tell the king that he should take another wife.

You walked away from him. “Are you afraid of taking me as your wife? You keep walking around instead of ordering them to start preparing everything for the ceremony. “The prince could see the challenge in your eyes and he loved it.” I'm not a little girl, Daemon. I know what I'm getting into by marrying you."

And those words were enough for Daemon to finally join his lips with yours. There was nothing soft about his kiss, not like Harwin's. This kiss was hungry, you felt like he was devouring your mouth but you weren't far behind either, taking him by the neck, pulling him closer to you. It seemed as if neither of you two could get enough of the other. Finally giving free rein to the desire the both felt for a long time. You felt his hands trying to untie the back of your dress so you walked away from him with heavy breathing.

“Ah, ah, ah,” you hummed, now placing your hands on his chest, hoping to keep a little more distance. “You can't have me until we're married,” you declared, looking at him mischievously.

“You're so fucking annoying” Daemon complained and tried to kiss you again but you pulled your face away with a teasing smile. "Good. But then you won't leave the room until I'm done with you,” he warned you and he gave you a little squeeze on your waist before leaving, determined to prepare everything in the shortest possible time.

Daemon thinks he'll never get tired of this. See how you move on his cock, how focused you look with every jump you take in search of your pleasure, how you open your mouth and let those sinful sounds escape when you finally find your sweet spot, and above all the feeling of your cunt squeezing his cock.

Hearing Daemon's groan overwhelms you. It overwhelms you because, for the first time, you realize that you have power over him. It's too much to hear him say your name like you're a god while you're riding him. See how hungry he is for you, how he can't seem to get enough of you, how he can't go a minute without his mouth on you, without biting or sucking on your neck, without having his hands touching you. By now your body was covered in hickeys, marks, and bruises leaving the trace of your crime on display. You're sure that tomorrow when the maids came to help you dress they would be horrified to see the mark of Daemon's palms on your thighs after he held you for what seemed like hours while he devoured your cunt over and over again.

Your husband noticed that you were starting to get tired but you still didn't want to stop, not when you were already so close to cumming again but you were too proud to ask him for help.

“Let me take care of it,” he said, stopping to suck on one of your nipples.

He knows how stubborn you are so he didn't even give you a chance to refuse when he lifted you off his cock. You groan against his neck as he pushes you down onto his cock again. He begins to move you up and down as if you weighed nothing.

"Faster" you demanded with heavy breathing, feeling dissatisfied with the pace of his movements.

Daemon doesn't hesitate to follow your orders and makes you bounce faster. His grunts and moans do nothing but send heat to your core. You feel your legs tremble at the speed and depth of his thrusts. You want to have your share and leave your marks on your husband too but you can't focus as much time on biting or sucking on his neck when he's fucking you so good. You sob when you finally feel the knot in your stomach release and you cum on his cock.

Suddenly one of his hands leaves your waist and pulls your hair, stealing a gasp from you, making you stop hiding your face in his neck and thus trap your mouth again in a messy kiss.

"You take me so well," Daemon gasped against your lips, feeling your warm cunt not stop squeezing his cock.

The sound of skin slapping only increases the temperature of the room. Like the groans and gasps. Neither Daemon nor you were trying to be quiet, it was more like you were both competing to see who could make the other louder. You should be embarrassed and try to be quieter, that's what a good lady would do but you couldn't care less what people thought, not when you felt so good. And while you felt how Daemon filled your cunt with his seed a petty part of you couldn't help but think that you were hoping that this would reach Viserys' ears, that one of the servants would write to the king to inform him of the spectacle you and Daemon were putting on so that Viserys wouldn't want to have anything more to do with you.

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[yandereunsolved]

Yandere self-aware asoiaf characters abuse subtitles. If you are hoh or deaf then they are definitely using that to their advantage.

Reader: watching Daemon and Rhaenyra argue.

Daemon: "I am entitled to do such things!" subtitles: you're on my side, right?

Rhaenyra: "You are the consort, Daemon. Do not forget that you will always stand below me." subtitles: switch the channel, sweetheart. I don't want you to get triggered by our yelling.

Daemon: "I made you who you are. You would be nowhere without me." subtitles: don't try to sway them. that's unfair. you are painting me out to be the bad guy.

Jacaerys: enters the argument. subtitles: you look very pretty today. do you prefer handsome? you look handsomely pretty.

Reader: Just trying to keep up with both streams of conversation.

[eraenaa]

But Daddy, I Love Him

Aemond Targaryen x Niece Reader Tag List

Synopsis: When the favored daughter of Daemon Targaryen falls for the favored son of Alicent Hightower, the Rogue Prince does everything he can to ensure that a union between the two of you will never happen. 

Warnings: Not Proofread, ¿Softer Aemond and Daemon?, No Smut

Word Count: 5,019

It could no longer be denied nor be overlooked. It was growing painfully obvious to the court that the only daughter of Princess Rhaenyra has had her head turned by the second son of Queen Alicent. Everyone believed that the only thing the second-borns of the Princess and the Queen would share was animosity. Still, the return of Princess Rhaenyra and her kin to the capitol brought something different— something entirely unexpected. It started with stolen glances around the tilt yard and the halls of the red keep. Stolen glances lingered throughout dinner and the trial. Meeting in the library by chance turned into secret rendezvous. Banter and teases blended into meaningful conversations. Animosity turned to affection. Loathing bloomed into love. A love that cannot be.

“You look lovely, today, niece,” Aemond complimented as he caught you in the gardens. The prince relished the sweet blush that spread through your cheeks. “Shh, you might be heard,” You whispered in concern as your brothers were only seated a few leagues away. He hummed and dared to twirl your silky, curly hair into his fingers. “Shall you join me for a ride today, uncle?” You asked and took a flower into your delicate hands. You turned to the silver prince, who had a small, rare smile as he peered down at you. You boldly placed the plucked flower into the upper pocket of his tunic. “If you wish,” He answered, making you bite your lip as he stepped closer. “To the dragon pits then?” You asked, and Aemond offered his arm for you to take, and you gladly did. 

Prince Daemon stood above the gardens and watched the scene with a sneer. He had been stewing in rage, fear, and uncertainty for the past few weeks. You could no longer be reasoned with. In his eyes, you could never do no wrong. You had never done anything wrong— his favorite daughter was perfect. But apparently, your return to the capitol had caused you to make a lapse in judgment. Trusting a Hightower spawn was a great mistake on your part. You, his smart and sweet daughter, have been corrupted and manipulated by the one-eyed bastard of a son of the bitch that had the title queen. It pained the Rogue prince, but he had to take extreme measures to ensure that you would never be bound and be played by a Hightower spawn. 

You rode the skies next to your uncle. A wide smile on your lips and laughs, leaving your tongue as he playfully chased you through the clouds. His Vhagar may be the largest dragon there is, but she is also the oldest. Whilst your dragon had the quickness and agility of youth. “You’ll have to try harder than that, uncle!” You yelled in glee as you heard his frustrated groan when he lost you through a cloud. “I will catch you, little niece— and you shall give me my prize when I do,” He answered back, and you laughed in glee as your dragon rode through a cloud, making your stomach flip. “That is if you shall succeed!” You yelled before urging your dragon to fly faster and further from the prince. 

The afternoon sun started to fade, bathing the two of you in the orange hue of the setting sun, and it was then that Aemond finally caught up to you. When you landed by the pits, you were quickly grabbed by the waist. Entrapped in the arms of an uncle you used to loathe. “I demand my prize, little niece,” He murmured by your ear. You feel your heart stutter, and at the same time, you feel conscious as the two of you may be caught. “I demand my kiss, princess,” he said, and you feel your breathing shallowed by his words and the sound of footsteps approaching. You two were luckily hidden behind the body of your beloved dragon. “Tonight, meet me in the library and you shall have my kiss, my prince,” You said and reluctantly urged him to let go of his hold of you. 

When the two of you turned to the reason for the footsteps, your brows furrowed as you were both met with a gold cloak. “Can we help you, Ser?” you asked as Aemond cautiously assessed the trusted man of your father; stepping in front of you as if the knight would harm you. “Princess, I was sent by your father to escort you back into the keep.” He bowed and answered, but that did not aid your confusion. “It’s fine; I shall ride back to the keep with my uncle,” You answered, but the knight insisted that he had a direct order from the Rogue Prince that you shall return to the Red Keep under his supervision. “Just go; I shall ride behind you,” Aemond finally spoke after a moment, guiding you to the wheelhouse and glaring at the knight who interrupted the supposed private moment between the two of you. 

When inside the castle walls, you were greeted by your father and eldest brother as you disembarked the wheelhouse. “I see you have met Ser Adam,” Your father remarked at the knight who helped you step out of the carriage. “He shall be your sworn protector,” Prince Daemon added, his gaze turning to a prince who greatly reminded him of himself during his youth riding, following closely behind you. “Sworn protector? I— I do not believe there is a need fo—“ Your father cut you off, taking your arm and stirring you further from the one-eyed prince who dared to step closer to you after he had disembarked his horse. “You are the only daughter of the heir to the throne— of course, you need protecting. Ser Adam shall be constantly by your side, and he shall report back to me and your mother for any potential threat that arises.” You looked back, confused, locking eyes with Aemond, who had his jaw clenched as he conversed with your brother. 

“So I take it that my sister and brothers have their own sworn protectors as well?” You asked, feeling that you were singled out by your father’s sudden paranoia about your safety. “They too shall have one… in time,” He mumbled the last part, making your head snap up at him. “But in the meantime, Ser Adam shall oversee your ventures and activities. No more venturing out in the halls in the dead of the night alone. He shall be there by your side if any danger arises while you are in the dim walls of the library,” Your lips part as you realize that the knight was placed as a buffer, a wall between you and Aemond. You bit your tongue and made no further comment about the matter for now. 

When dinner came, you were excited because it meant that you would be in the presence of Aemond once more, enveloped in quiet conversation with the prince who sat by your left. But a frown adorned your pretty face once more as your seat beside Aemond was removed and instead placed cramped between Aegon and your elder brother. You hear Aemond’s familiar footsteps approaching; you turn to him as your brother guides you to your new place. Aemond knew exactly what they were doing. His jaw tightened as they had been keeping you from him. He knew he should have been cautious with his affection when out in public, knowing it would not be received well. But how could he restrain himself? How could he control himself when you are near? 

Throughout dinner, the two of you were silent, missing, and already longing to be by each other’s side once again. The prince’s face was filled with annoyance, his lips in a thin line. You held a look of solemnity, and a pout adorned your plush pink lips. Daemon turned to Jacaerys, the two of them satisfied with their tactics in keeping you and Aemond out of each other’s company. 

After dinner, you hear your newly assigned knight trail behind you as you walk the path toward the library. You sighed as you heard the clank of his armor. “You can stay by the door, Ser Adam,” You say as you approach the silent room, Aemond already waiting for you in your favorite spot. “I am afraid that I cannot abide by your orders, princess,” He said, and you bit your tongue; you could not let out your frustrations upon him as he was only ordered by your father. You took your seat across from Aemond; the prince eyed the knight who stood behind your chair. 

“What is he doing here?” Aemond asked in ancient tongue, annoyance seeping through his tone. “My father has instructed him to follow me wherever I go… instructed him to report back all of my ventures,” You answered and played with the embroidery of your fine dress as your pals for the night with Aemond were now ruined. “They are keeping you from me,” Aemond gritted, his hand clenching in anger. “And why should they do that?” You asked with a tilt of your head, moving to take hold of his hand, but the knight behind you cleared his throat as if a warning. You sighed and licked your lips and clamped your hands in front of you. “Because they are scared— threatened that…” Aemond caught himself before he uttered the deep truth he had realized just a week after you had returned. “That what?” You asked in common tongue. Aemond sighed and shook his head, but there was a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “That I would burn for you, little light. That we are dragons that need to be bound by blood.” 

You, being the watchful eyes of your sworn protector, did not last long. Aemond had commissioned some of the guards to pick a fight with your knight, and it left him bloody, bruised, and bedridden. Buying the two of you a small amount of freedom in each other’s presence before your father could find a replacement. 

The two of you were in the godswood, hidden behind the white, ashy trunk of the Weirwood tree, away from anyone’s view. Aemond laid his head on your lap as you read a book written in the language of your house, him listening intently to your honey voice as it read fluent Valyrian. “You still have not given me my prize,” The prince suddenly said as you paused from reading. You turned to him, gazing down at the serenity on his handsome face as he lay on your lap.  One of your hands intertwined with his and resting atop his chest. “What?” You asked, feeling your stomach flip at the intensity in his eye. “You still have not given me my kiss,” Aemond said, voice growing deeper and more serious. 

You tried to laugh it off, moving your intertwined hands to your lips and kissing the back of his hand. “There,” you say, but Aemond sat up from his position. “That is not the kiss we discussed, princess,” He whispered, face inching forward to yours. You feel his cold hand on the apex of your neck and shoulder, pulling you in and sending gooseflesh to rise all over your skin. “Just one kiss,” You whispered as his lips were so close to yours, his scent of cedar wood, mint, and leather so intoxicating. “We’ll see,” he said and smashed your lips. Your heart stuttered for a moment, feeling his warm, soft, wine-tasting lips upon yours. It was supposed to be only a chaste kiss, you knew you should pull away, but as Aemond placed his hand on your waist and pulled you close, you knew you did not have the strength nor want to do so. 

Unbeknownst to you, your secret actions with your uncle were caught by your eldest brother, who did not hesitate to run to your mother’s husband to report the scene. On how yours and Aemond’s lips danced, on how you grinned at each other as you acted to catch your breath, gazing at each other love-struck. On how your kiss under the scarlet leaves of the ancient tree had only solidified your emotions and deepened your desires for each other.

You were soon called to your mother’s chambers later that afternoon. “No, please! Please, you cannot do this to me— why… why would you marry me to him?” You cried to your mother as they announced that you were to be sent to the North as a bride for its warden. It was the extreme measure your father had to take to keep you away from Aemond. Sequestering you into the frigid wasteland just so a one-eyed dragon would not lay more of its claim on you. “You had promised me I was free to choose whom I shall marry!” You cried in front of them, knowing your tears had always been your trusted weapon to bend them to your will. “I’m sorry, my love… but, the crown needs allies… a union with Lord Stark is vital.” You shook your head, “The North is already sworn to you! You need not promise me to their lord,” You countered. “It was a decision your father believed had to be made, and it is to—“

Your mother’s words faded out, and you could only focus on how it was your father’s orders to offer you to a lord you had not even met. His cruel way of keeping you from Aemond. “My father is dead,” You suddenly gritted out, silencing your mother in shock as you said the bitter words. Though you were a product of Ser Harwin Strong, and the kingdom was made to believe that your paternity came from the line of Ser Laenor— neither of those men were fathers to you. Not like Daemon was. It stung you to say such words, but you were overly hurt that he had made such a decision just to keep you from the prince you loved. 

“My father is dead; how could he have made such a decision?” You asked and dug your fingernails into your palms. Your mother sighed as you and Daemon stared each other down. “Daemon made the decision,” She clarified. “You are heir to the throne, but you would let a prince consort dictate the future of your only daughter?” You asked, menacingly. Watching the way your step-father’s jaw ticks at your impertinence. He did not know how to handle you in such a state; you were never one to rebel, but what was there to rebel against when everything you had ever wanted was quickly given to you? 

“That is beside the point, my love; you still need to marry.” Your mother said, and you shifted your gaze to her. “I know! And I am happy to do so just as long as—“ Daemon cut you off. “Just as long as what?” He asked, “Just as long as it will be Aemond.” You proclaimed. “I wish to marry him, and he wishes to marry me as well! You are the only one against this!” You all but screamed with a stomp of your foot. Making your father roll his eyes and disapprovingly shake his head as they had filed you up with their lies. “You see, Nyra… look at how they had manipulated our daughter… they filled up her head with falsities— this had been their plan all along.” Daemon reasoned to your other, who looked in between the two of you with concern and cluelessness on how to proceed. 

“Look at how they corrupted her… arguing, yelling, insulting us just to defend their disfigured son. They are playing her!” he spat bitterly. “Do not call him that,” you gritted to Daemon as he uttered offense toward Aemond. There was a silence that enveloped the room before you finally spoke once more. “Father, please… I love him,” you pleaded, ready to beg on your knees just for you not to be sent as a bride for a wolf. Daemon looked at your eyes, sincerity in your orbs, gut-wrenching sadness as pearl tears ran through your cheeks; that still did not sway his mind. “The decision is made. You shall be Cregan Stark’s bride.” He stated and walked off, leaving you to cry and wail in your mother’s arms. 

Aemond eyed you with concern as you sat dejectedly in your place next to your brother and his. Your head hung low, and not once had you cast your enchanting eyes upon him— or anyone else for that matter. His hold on his knife is tighter as he realizes you have not a bite of your supper. His gaze went murderous as he finally saw your bloodshot eyes and trembling lips. They had made you cry. He turned to your father, a harsh look on his face, whilst your mother looked at you wistfully. Aemond then turned to Jacaerys, a smug look on his plain face.

As supper ended, Aemond was the first to leave the table. He made fast steps and entered your chambers to hide there, needing to speak with you, and he was certain that would not be possible whilst you were in the presence of your kin. He hid behind the pillar as he heard the door creek and your somber voice bidding Lucerys ‘good night.’ When he heard the door shut and bared, he made his presence announced. 

It was then that he saw a clear view of your state: eyes swollen and red, lips trembling, nose sniffling, soft cheeks flush with sadness. “My light… what has happened?” he asked. You said no word, only ran to his arms and let you hold him as the tears came like rivers once more. “They’re… they’re marrying me to Cregan Stark,” You said in between sobs. Aemond felt the air knocked out of him, his form turn rigged and was immediately filled with dread. “What?” He asked, hoping what he heard was a misunderstanding. “They offered me as a bride to Cregan Stark. He shall arrive in a few days to be presented to grandfather, and we shall leave for the North in a fortnight.” 

Aemond sat you down on your plush bed, wiping away your hot tears with his cold fingers. “You will never be his,” he swore, looking deeply into your eyes as your tears did not cease. I shall speak with your parents,” he said and tried to soothe you by running his hand through your hair and caressing your cheek. “Aemond, they wouldn’t even listen to me… their minds are made,” You said sadly. Your prince only shook his head and kissed the top of your brow. “You are a dragon. Wolves do not deserve dragons,” was all he said before kissing your lips again, hoping the action would distract you from your sadness because he could no longer stomach seeing you cry. 

“They would never approve of us,” You whispered to Aemond as he held you to his chest. He tried to lull you to sleep, but your mind was distraught. “I do not care for their approval,” he uttered atop your head, inhaling deeply the scent of you. “But—“ You hear Aemond sigh and pull you closer to his leather-clad chest. “You will be mine, my light, just as it ought to be. Forget their qualms and objections— my uncle and his disapproval is a challenge I’ll happily welcome, just as long as you will forever be mine.” He stated as his fingers twirled your hair, “Let us just rest, ñuha ōños,” he murmured, and you did as told. Savoring the first and probably the last time in his hold. 

“What are you planning?” Ser Criston asked as Aemond spent more hours in the tiltyard. The arrival of his betrothed had only spurred him to fight harder, train more, and let out his rage at the knights. “Pick your weapon,” was all the prince said as he wiped away the sweat off his forehead. “Tell me the reason for your more frequent sessions first,” the knight stated. Lilac eye flickered above the tiltyard, Aemond's jaw clenching and nostrils flared as he saw you walking around with the warden of the north, chaperoned by your brother. Ser Criston’s eyes followed the prince’s gaze, realization shining through his brown orbs. “My prince, you—“ He was cut off. 

“I shall be challenging the warden to a duel for the hand of my niece,” he proclaimed and urged the knight to pick up his weapon. “But she is a bastard,” Ser Criston muttered lowly. Aemond's eye widened, and he had to greatly retrain himself from maiming the knight who stood as his father figure. “She will be my wife.” He proclaimed and returned to his training. 

When all were gathered in the throne room to announce their betrothal to Lord Stark, Aemond stepped away from his sibling and drew out his sword, bravely challenging the warden in front of the eyes of the court and his father, the king. You felt your stomach pit in fear, for you did not know that this was the plan Aemond had devised. You had half the mind that he would have the two of you escape to YiTi and live freely there. You hear your father and brother’s disapproval of the duel, but you hear your grandfather’s agreement to it. Lord Stark had little choice but to accept the challenge. You turn to your mother, her lips in a thin line and hands fiddling with her rings, her expression unreadable as he watched men argue before the throne, dictating her only daughter’s fate. She felt your eyes upon her, and she took your hand into hers as fear was evident in your gaze. “It will be fine, my love,” She muttered lowly, but you had trouble believing her words. 

When night came, the supposed family supper was discarded as both sides were furious and confused at what had transpired in the throne room. “She will not marry him— I would rather feed myself to Caraxes than watch our daughter marry a spawn of those cunts.” Daemon muttered to his wife and downed a whole chalice of wine, quickly moving to refill it once more. “She loves him,” was all your mother could mutter as she plainly saw the affection in your eyes. “And he loves her,” she added as he saw the tenderness and warmth in her half-brother’s usually cold, lone eye. Daemon scoffed and turned to his wife. 

“Not you too— Rhaenyra, you cannot buy into their deceit! You cannot let your daughter be bound to that—“ The princess cut her husband off. “Why? Why are you so against this? Put your pride and animosity towards Otto and Alicent aside… our daughter has made it clear that she wants Aemond— and he, too, made it clear that he wants our daughter. There is no underlying deceit from his intentions… what will they even gain? The crown passes to Jacaerys; Aemond wants our daughter, not for power or whatever reason you had sold yourself to greatly disagree to this match!” Daemon shook his head at his wife’s words. “We need allies. We need the North.” He said, but Rhaenyra shook her head. “You are preparing for a war that may not come— already sacrificing our daughter on the way! And she is right. The North is already sworn to me. A Stark never forgets their oath. And if they need further convincing, my daughter and her happiness is too great a price to pay for them to keep their word.” Your mother defended. She watched as her husband’s jaw clenched and his hold on the chalice grew tighter. 

“Daemon, you and I had both been subjected to marriages, not of our choosing, a marriage devised for peace and power but ultimately led to death and devastation… you cannot be so cruel to subject her to such a fate.” Rhaenyra said softly and walked towards her husband, urging him to change his mind. The prince breathed out heavily, “We shall see in the duel if he truly deserves her,” 

You nervously traced the embroidery of your dress as you watched your prince battle with the Warden of the North. Both men still yet to tire as they galloped towards each other with their jousting sticks. You feel your mother reach for your hand as your leg bounces up and down in anticipation and fear. You took in a sharp breath as the Warden was thrown off his horse, and Aemond was quick to disembark his and draw out his sword. You chewed on your lip as you shielded your gaze from the men, your bloodstream filled with fear as you heard the clang of swords and their exhausted grunts. You hear the cheers of the audience grow louder, and you feel bile rising to your throat. You shut your eyes tightly and prayed to the gods and fates for it to end soon— for it to end and for Aemond to emerge victorious. 

Your prayers were quick to be answered as you snapped your eyes open at the enraged screams of your brother and father— the prince having the warden on his knees and a sword upon his throat. “Surrender, my lord,” The prince breathed, his eye scanning upwards, in search of you. “Surrender, and you will keep your life!” The prince yelled, and you fisted your dress with each moment the warden did not concede. But when he finally raised his arms up and dropped his sword, lowly saying his surrender, you were finally able to breathe freely. “Our champion, Prince Aemond Targaryen!” Someone yelled, and cheers hollered around you, but they were quick to fade as your eyes locked with the man you can now call your soon-to-be husband. 

The wedding was quick to come, no matter the reluctance of your father and older brother. You were marrying Aemond. Other members of your kin were finally accepting the union, seeing how you both were truly enthralled and in love with one another. They no longer held disapproval as they realized how bright and intense you burned for each other. 

You were in your chambers, the final preparations made to you as you were about to be bound to the one-eyed prince in the eyes of men and the gods. “You look… you look exquisite, my sweet,” Your mother sighed and cupped your cheeks, her eyes and voice filled with heavy emotion. You tightly embraced your mother as she was the only one who was truly on your side when it came to your union with Aemond. Your heart throbbed melancholically as you were to be married without the support or blessing of the man who had become your father. You walked out of the chambers with your mother by your side, her being the only one to escort you towards the grand doors that would lead you to the great hall where Aemond waited by the end of it. She gave you one last kiss on your cheek before stepping aside and walking towards a side entrance and waiting along with the other guests; absent was the presence of Daemon. 

As the banquet went on and your hand was freely clasped around your husband, you tried not to let your sadness be shown as the man who stepped in, as your father was not anywhere in sight. Aemond could feel your sadness no matter how hard you tried to hide it; he brought the back of your hand to his cool lips and hoped it brought you comfort. You flashed him a small smile and leaned in closer, “A dance, my wife?” He asked, his heart stuttering as a genuine smile spread to your lips. 

He led you to the floor and placed his hand on your waist. No more secret touches, no more possibility of scandal, for in the eyes of the gods and men, you were Aemond’s, and Aemond was yours. As your husband spun you around and kept his steady hold upon you, your mind was finally distracted by the sadness it felt as Daemon was absent on your most joyous day. The thought of your father did not occur to you as you danced until you and your husband saw him approaching. Aemond was attentive to your reaction as he approached, ready to challenge his uncle for the distress and sadness he bestowed upon you. “I wish to dance with my daughter,” He announced, and you felt Aemond’s hold on your waist tighten; he was about to speak, but you nodded and reassured him it was fine. Aemond reluctantly stepped away, and you were left in the presence of your father. 

There was silence at first as you were once again spun for the dance, but you soon broke it. “You did not attend our ceremonies.” You said, voice a tad bitter and resenting. You hear your father’s aggravated sigh. “I know you think he is playing me… I know you believe this whole ordeal is a farce, but it’s not. He loves me, father. And I love him greatly,” You say and urge him to understand. “You— your marriage is something I do not approve of.” You hear him utter, making your stomach pit, “But it is clear that you truly love him…” he trailed, his eye turning to your husband, who had his watchful gaze upon you, ready to come to your aid, the moment he sensed distress. “… And I suppose his intentions are genuine,” he relents. You turn your now hopeful gaze upon him, “I do not believe he deserves you, but if he truly makes you happy, who am I to stand in your way? I will not hinder you anymore.” You processed her father’s words. “Do you truly mean it?” You asked, voice thick with emotion, “I do,” he sighed and kissed the top of your head. You smiled widely as heaviness in your heart faded with the blessing of your father was finally bestowed upon you and your husband.

Other fics in this universe: Mine (part 2) and King of My Heart (Part 3)

[lookforanewangle]

Part two!!

Chimney & Phrixa - White-Faced Capuchin

Wanted a smaller primate that could ride on Chim's shoulders and help with the smaller items in the ambulance. May or may not have been somewhat inspired by Dexter from Night at the Museum for all Chim's shenanigans...

You are a mischievous and self-assured individual who wears their heart on their sleeve. More so than others with primate daemons, those with capuchins are deeply attached to their friends and tend to be cliquish. They are judgmental of others and come across as standoffish to strangers.

Maddie & Traxin - Great Pyrenees

Wanted Maddie to also have a beeg dog like Buck so she had someone protecting her too! Great Pyrs aren't on the spreadsheet, but after a bit of known facts and a bit of digging, I know they're gentle giants but also fierce protectors, and Maddie looks after her own. Once again, it just fit

Josh & Ginexa - West Highland White Terrier

This one was all vibes. Look at him. Doesn't that look like Josh to you?

Albert & Kirelle - Sugar Glider

Mostly vibes but some of this fit too:

You are an excitable and expressive individual who loves friends and social support. More so than others with marsupial daemons, those with sugar gliders are cliquish people who love working in teams; they're stressed by change and are stubborn to it. They can be anxious people and are happiest when surrounded by others, especially when they can put all of their dedication towards a goal.

Margaret Buckley & Molin - Swan

Mostly vibes, but: You are a passionate and possessive individual who appreciates the finer things in life. More so than others with waterfowl daemons, those with swans are noble, self-aware people who take their duties seriously. They enjoy seizing new opportunities but are loyal to those they've pledged themselves to. (aka her husband and Daniel)

Daniel Buckley & Rinnelle - Unsettled

Daniel isn't really in this fic outside of being mentioned, but it's very important for me to note that Rinnelle mostly chose birds like his mama :') Just to add in some extra grief and disdain for Margaret's two other children (Philip has no comments about any of this, but he still favors his wife above Maddie and Buck)

Philip Buckley & Jarah - Cocker Spaniel

Purely vibes; this choice doesn't fit with the description in the spreadsheet at all lol. Also I was bit by a Cocker Spaniel as a toddler, so I'm so sorry to stereotype, Cocker Spaniels, but you're getting villainized here. sorry (disclaimer: I have no issues with real Cocker Spaniels lmao; all dogs are good dogs, brent)

Michael & Leerna - Meerkat

Yet another where it doesn't fully fit; mostly vibes

You are a cooperative and cliquish individual, though highly competitive and assertive. More so than others with viverroid daemons, those with meerkats are cautious and cooperative people, often prone to group thinking. They are firmly hierarchical and opinionated, but they need to have the support of their friends.

May & Wrinn - Osprey

Had to have a dangerous bird like her mom :')

You are a precise and observant individual who seeks to master challenges. More so than others with raptor daemons, those with ospreys are more emotionally in-tune with themselves. They are patient but decisive when they are moved to act, and are unafraid of authority who go against their moral compass.

Harry & Valenka - Unsettled

Still doing a lot of thinking for him; sorry I don't have anything yet :(

Karen & Rirkan - European Hare

You are a determined and sociable individual who values hard work. More so than others with rabbit daemons, those with European hares are ambitious and assertive people, naturally competitive and impatient. They are dramatic and sensitive in that they can be prone to jealousy, but overall are good people who look out for the people around them.

Part three coming up next!

I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW ABOUT THE DAEMON AU

HI HELLO I WILL TELL YOU ABOUT THE DAEMON AU

You've unearthed pandora's box; under a read more because this got long lmao

First off, there are theoretically going to be multiple fics, but right now I'm working on the main one which starts with the tsunami! I've finished five chapters/23k words and they are off with some betas for review 👀 I'm not sure how long it's going to be but I'm building towards buddie and will be focusing on Buck coming to terms with himself and his self-worth a la tsunami through Buck Begins! The shooting may or may not be its own thing later lol. That's all I'll share though because I don't want to spoil my plot twists, but I have shared some snippets here

I love exploring the relationships between characters and their daemons and their relations to other characters/daemons when I do daemon aus and this one will be no different! love pushing the boundaries of their connections and also Touch as well, though I lean more towards it being an intimate show of trust, not necessarily in a sexual way. It's aaaaall about the found family connections here baybeeeee 👏

The rules I follow (which I believe are directly from the books; I've only seen the show rip, but I've been reading daemon aus for over a decade):

Do not ask questions about another’s daemon.

Always keep your daemon close; to separate is to suffer.

Touch is only to be allowed by another daemon, not their person.

and Touch rules:

Do not ever Touch without permission

Do not ever allow Touch from someone you do not trust implicitly (2a: Family and significant others are most often allowed to Touch & 2b: Best friends allowing Touch is rare, but not unheard of)

Touch is typically skin to skin/fur/scales. If there are clothing items in between, the touch is not necessarily considered Touch, depending on the situation

And now on to everyone's daemons!! When deciding most of these, I used the daemon quiz results spreadsheet that you can find here!! It was so useful and helped when I couldn't decide between two different animals. I've added the descriptions for each below. Not all of them fit perfectly; some of them I leaned more towards looks or ability to assist during rescues while also trying to tie somewhat to personality, but I tried to stick as close as I could.

Buck & Bailey - Irish Wolfhound

This one was not on the spreadsheet, but I really wanted a beeeeg dog for Buck and found the reddit thread in the screenshot below; it just fit and I love her to death now 🥺 Top pic is her coloring!

Chris & Minara (Mina) - Unsettled

Mina may be unsettled but she most often chooses a ferret or a perching bird of some kind, typically a cardinal!

ferret: You are a spontaneous and affectionate individual who loves to have fun. More so than others with weasel daemons, those with ferrets are high energy extroverts, gregarious with others but never sacrificing their outspoke assertiveness. They're curious and impulsive people who hate to wait and love to find silver linings in life.

cardinal: You are a brave and faithful individual who is fiercely protective of what they love. More so than others with perching bird daemons, those with cardinals are romantic and proud, and carry their bold energy into all they do. They are determined and confident people.

Eddie & Gabriela (Gabi) - Caracal

The caracal description doesn't quite fit Eddie to a T, but it's close. I was going more for looks for him, and for a cat that's large enough to assist with rescues without being a big cat.

You are an observant and thoughtful individual who is deeply private. More so than others with wild cat daemons, those with caracals are independent and self-preserving, excelling in the specific area of life they've carved out for themselves. They have strong boundaries and prefer to only depend on themselves.

Bobby & Zura - Timber Wolf

You are a loyal and spiritual individual who deeply values their own gut feelings. More so than others with wild dog daemons, those with wolves are committed to their loved ones and develop deep emotional bonds. They have great capacity for inspiration and are protective over what they love and value.

Athena & Achilles - Snowy Owl

yes I had to make a Greek mythology reference. don't laugh at me. I did almost go with Ares, but I decided on Achilles because essentially daemons are a human's achilles heel...if a daemon dies, so does their human 99.9999% of the time, so. It seemed fitting lmao

You are a powerful and assertive individual who values deep thought and clarity. More so than others with owl daemons, those with snowy owls are independent and confident, able to appear competent even when they don't feel it. Rarely does their resilient and strong-willed exterior waver.

Hen & Jorrah - Chicken/Rooster

Still deciding between which of these two breeds; if anyone has suggestions I'm all ears!! And of course I had to give Hen a hen rooster. I may switch her to an actual hen; there are some instances where queer characters have daemons of the same gender and I haven't written any specific lines for either of them into the fic yet, so that could change 🤔

You are a driven yet nurturing individual who expects perfection from themselves and others. More so than others with flightless bird daemons, those with chickens love mentoring others and tend towards being a gossip. They don't always put their money where their mouth is, but they're incredibly social and know how to talk a big game. (Hen, of course, does put her money where her mouth is)

Going to have to make a part two etc to get everyone else's daemons in; I've capped out on photos. 😅

Thanks for asking!! Hopefully I can finish the fic soon so I can start posting 👀

[alexaloraetheris]

Hi, are you a Dungeon Meshi fan? Mayhaps do you like His Dark Materials? Are you autistic and relate to Laios? Do you want to cry forever?

If the answer to any of those is yes, then go read His Delicious Materials please.

If you need me, I'll be over there, sobbing.

[paulyenvol6]

Bound by Flame (Masterlist)

This is the masterlist/moodboard for my new series called "Bound by flame" which I'm very excited to share with you :)

This story is based on the HBO/Max TV show House of the Dragon and the works of George R R Martin. I don't own any of the characters.

Please only read if you're over 18 as this story contains adult content.

You can find the following themes in this story: rape, non-con/dub-con, sexual abuse, p in v, unprotected sex, oral sex (f & m receiving), choking, crying, angst, anxiety, forced marriage, incest, dirty talk, virginity loss, degrading, toxic relationship, HIGHLY problematic and abusive behaviour, pregnancy, possessiveness (There will be detailed warning before each chapter)

Disclaimer: This is a very dark fanfiction that includes heavy themes like rape and sexual assualt. Please only read it if you're 100% sure that you are comfortable with this. There are terrible things happening in this story that can upset and trigger people so read with caution!!!

Summary: What if his own brother denies Daemon Targaryen his greatest desire? The rogue prince intends to marry his niece, Maera Targaryen but is quick to understand that his brother won't support this union and even further, refuses to give his daughter's hand to him. What will Daemon do in a situation like that? The question is simple because as always, he simply takes what he wants.

Smut is marked with *

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 * Chapter 4 * Chapter 5 Chapter 6 * Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 * Chapter 12 * Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 * Chapter 16 * Chapter 17 * (The End)

[em-writes-stuff-sometimes]

OMG no way are you going to write an AU of Daemon's visions at Harrenhal??? I know its AAAAAGES away from where you are in the current story but desperate hos wanna kno ;)

Ask, and ye shall receive!

until i bleed myself dry

Note: This is technically using the characters/characterisation I have established in my terms of endearment series, but really you only need to know that the Reader is Rhaenyra's younger sister and that, instead of marrying Laena, he spent a decade ho-ing it up in Pentos before coming home and getting dazzled by his niece before deciding to wife dat gurl.

WARNING: Please note this is dark, dark stuff. Discretion is advised. Please use your judgement wisely before engaging.

Triggers: graphic depictions of violence, violence against children, character d*ath, MAJOR hallucinations, sexual scenes including visibly underaged character/s.

There is something fucking wrong with this place.

Daemon feels like a skittish child as he withdraws to his chambers, covers drawn up to his neck like the fabric will keep away the very worst of midnight evils. He does not know if the steady drip, drip, drip he hears is in his head or if the stone ceiling is cracked enough to let through the rain. Knowing Harrenhal, he would hardly be surprised by the latter. Still, the noise only serves to speed the racing of his thoughts, turning them fearful as he has not felt since the weakness of his youth.

In this moment, he curses his own doings. If he had stayed his hand—if he had held his tongue—the boy would not be dead, and mayhaps you would not be so wroth with him. He would not be alone in this shithole of a keep a world away, chilled to the bone and miserable as he thinks of you warm and safe in your bed with the children. Without him.

When he finally falls asleep, he dreams.

He knows it is a dream, for he can hear your humming. Soft, sweet, the kind of tune you sing to Daeryx after one of his tantrums. His head lifts from the pillow and he finds himself back in your shared rooms on Dragonstone, eyes finding you in the chair by the hearth. Your hair, unbound, shines like molten amber in the firelight, swaying softly as you tend to business that is concealed from his gaze. Enthralled, he rises, making his way to you.

Drip, drip, drip.

He pauses. That sound… it doesn’t belong here. He calls your name. You ignore him. He moves closer, tentative.

“Come look,” you murmur suddenly, startling him. “Come, kepus.”

His feet move unbidden, out of his control.

Bile pools at the back of his throat, gut curdling at the sight of the boy—the boy—cradled in your lap. You and he are wet with blood, and it drip, drip, drips to the floor, echoing eerily. His eyes are open, face petrified, and Daemon realises that the dark at his neck is not in fact a shadow but a gaping wound, made jagged by the weapon used.

You look up at him, skin shining with sweat and expression exultant. “Look at him, kepus. Look at what you made.”

Memory flashes—he brings his son back down to rest beside his daughter on your lap, two moonshine miracles side by side. “Look at them, kepus,” you whisper, spellbound. “Look at what we made”—and his lungs constrict. You make to lift the child up, but the movement jostles his head off its perch, and it rolls to the ground to stop by his feet. He cannot move. He is frozen, horrified.

You smile, tucking the headless corpse under your chin. Gore pulses against your throat as your chin settles to the yawning maw of the child’s open neck. You rock in your seat, a faint squelch each time your shifting weight disturbs the sodden cushion beneath you.

“I love him,” you whisper, lips pressing to where flesh meets innards. Your mouth comes away red. “I love him so much.”

Daemon awakens with a yell. He swallows once, twice, and then—

He leans over the side of the bed, retching violently. When it is over, he curls up on his side, shaking, staring at his hands. They are wet with blood.

It does not take long for terror to settle in his bones like a longtime companion. It follows him each day, in every waking moment, manifesting in strange visions that he knows—he knows—must be untrue, cannot possibly be real, and yet… And yet. There is a sort of verity in them.

Dark Sister feels like a leaden weight at his hip as he stalks the keep, a reminder of his earlier encounter with Rhaenyra. Only she was not the Rhaenyra he knows, and instead a strange sort of blend of child-queen, the face of the girl peering out accusingly from under her father’s too-large crown, exclaiming all manner of hurt as she stepped from the Iron Throne upon which she perched.

“You put me on that throne. And you love me, and you hate me for it. You created me, Daemon. Yet you are now set on destroying me. All because your brother loved me more than he did you.”

And, without warning, he had taken his blade up in arms and struck off her head, a puppet on strings pulled by another. As her body fell, it morphed into the boy again. Jaehaerys. The child he had murdered. He heard your humming even while Simon Strong’s voice filtered through his unconscious mind, alerting him of the raven that just arrived.

The healer woman’s concoctions have helped little. He still wakes to strange noises, still finds himself stalking after his monstrous one-eyed nephew down the halls, only to find that it is himself he is pursuing. He hears the words you yelled at him in that last great quarrel— “get away, leave before you turn on us and murder us like you murdered that boy”—interspersed with the sound of your screams, and perhaps they are the screams you let out when birthing his children, or perhaps they are screams of a different kind, a version of himself making good on the implication of your words, steel in hand and pursuing his love, his life, his blood—

These figments blur with reality to the point that he becomes unsure of what is before him and what exists only in his head to haunt him. He comes to dread the resting hours, only to find their horrors bleeding into daylight. Whatever strange power has come to roost in his mind serves only to bring him torment.

Perhaps this is why he is not immediately suspicious when he comes face-to-face with you once more.

You stand by the window, the dim light filtering weakly over your bare form. Your back is to him, curls spilling to brush the tops of your buttocks. Their gentle sway—the barest kiss to your skin—is tantalising, and his mouth dries even as he watches your neck crane, sly smile tossed back over your shoulder at him.

“Daemon,” you beckon. Like a cuntstruck fool, he is helpless to resist the call.

His hands settle to the familiar divots of your waist, up and up and up to cup the fullness of your tits. You lean into him, a quiet huff of pleasure escaping as his fingers squeeze and his lips fall unbidden to the slope of your jaw. He inhales deeply, stirred even now by the simplicity of your scent, a throbbing line straight to his groin. You turn in his hold, nose nuzzling against his chin.

“You were right,” you say, eyes shining. “You were always right.”

He is under some enchantment, surely, for he is incapable of coherent speech. All he can do is feel the satisfaction heat his veins, allow it to tug at the corner of his mouth. I knew it, he thinks. I knew her will would bend eventually.

You speak still, even as he backs you toward the bed. “Papa was weak. Rhaenyra is weak. Only you are the true blood of the dragon.”

You shift backward onto the mattress, legs parting invitingly. The split of you opens, revealing flushed folds and the teasing glimmer of want, shining slick for his hungered gaze.

“Fearless”—your hand trails down your belly, fingers tracing around your pearl—“brave”—you venture lower, pressing teasingly at your cunt, your lip caught between your teeth—“strong.”

Daemon drops to his knees before you, tongue licking through the spill and catching on your finger. He bullies it out of the way, arms locking around your thighs as he gluts himself on the sweet tang of you, senses clouding and narrowing to a singular point of existence. You grip his hair, the arches of your feet digging against his back.

“It is not my place to question you,” you breathe, twisting and writhing with his ministrations. He watches your face, enraptured by the toss of your head and the shape of your lips as they form moan after moan. Your release is quick, a final sobbing yelp followed by a flood of slick warmth. When your eyes reopen, they are blazing with reverence. Reverence for him. Your knees flex up, your lower half folded almost to your chest. Your cunt contracts, fluttering like the wings of a butterfly. “I live to serve you, my king.”

His head feels heavy as he rises just barely to crawl over you. He frowns. When he lifts his hand to extricate yours from his hair, he finds not flesh, but cool metal. A crown.

“My king,” you coo below him.

Your surroundings are changed. It is not the meagre offerings of Harrenhal that frame you now, but the sumptuous trimmings of the king’s chambers in the Red Keep, only brighter, more lavish than they ever have been. Jewels sparkle at your throat, in your hair, at your wrists. The sheets are molten gold against your silver-pale, and you wind your hips up at him provocatively, catching his cockhead against your opening.

“You belong on the throne, husband,” you say, fist closing around his shaft and pumping once, twice. You lead him back to the core of you, nudging him just inside. “Uncle. My love. And I belong at your side—at your feet—under your body.”

“My queen,” he gasps, driving forward with a grunt, and oh, he has missed you, missed this, missed the clutch of your walls like a mother’s embrace and the sound of your breathy cries as he plunges deep. Plunges home.

“My king,” you call out, rising into him with unrestrained abandon, precious gems clinking frantically with each fevered hitch of his hips against yours. “My lord. My master. I was made for you.”

“Yes…”

“Chain me to this bed, my king.” Your spine arches toward him, hands grabbing for his own and leading them above your head. He takes this for the encouragement it is, pinning your wrists to the pillow and rutting harder. You shout, elbows flexing to no avail. “Give to me my purpose. Give me your heirs.”

He is helpless to stop the noises escaping his mouth, feral and uninhibited, fucking with near painful intent. You take it all, curving yourself deeper, holding yourself more open so that he may lay claim to his conquest. As only a king can.

“And when I have birthed one,” you say, though now it is more a prolonged keening sound, “give me another. Never stop. Oh! Make me—make me take it—”

He does not know if he is imagining it or if it is happening before his eyes, but he can see it: ruling the Seven Kingdoms, sitting the Iron Throne the way his brother never could, striding down the halls of the keep as the commons bow and scrape to their sovereign, bursting into his chambers after small council to find his queen, to find you where you always are, naked in his bed and belly round and leaking milky white between your thighs, for it is his kingly law that the only part you play here is this, waiting for him to find you and fuck you and fill you and keep you, his little niecewifequeenpet—

He snarls, pulsing and burning. You squeal as he pushes past onslaught and straight to violence, bodies colliding so forcefully that his bones ache and his brain feels like jelly wobbling in his skull. What leaves his mouth can only be bestial in nature now. “I’ll make you—”

“Yes, make me take it until I cannot. Until my cunt is ruined by you.” He feels his end rushing up with every word you wail, his joints locking and grinding and gut roiling with the anticipation of it. “Until my womb is destroyed. Until I bleed myself dry, my king. Only for you.”

“Wha—”

The horror of it escapes him, for it is too late: the release crashes on him like a tidal wave, shoving him below its surface and imprisoning him in its current. He makes a noise like a wounded boar, chasing through the high despite the alarm in his mind, so at odds with the soaring rhythm in his loins.

You laugh, tilting welcomingly to receive him. “Make me bleed, my king. Make me bleed like my mother.”

It is enough to chill the heat in his blood to ice, destroying any semblance of enjoyment. But he cannot stop the unsteady eking out of what remains of his peak. He tries, but he cannot stop.

“No,” he says, a contradiction to the enthusiasm of his flesh prison. “No, no, I cannot. No—”

“What do you mean?” you ask, a strange quality to it. A duality. It crystallises into something comprehensible with every word that comes from your lips. All at once, it is not your voice he hears, but something much higher, younger, blending and overlapping with the cadence he recognises. “You already have.”

He looks down as he makes his final groaning thrusts, only to feel his stomach drop through the floor. Your thighs are soaked in blood, his cock sluicing a path through it all the while. All that flesh covered in red, and he glances up, only to see that you are gone, you are replaced by someone so small, so frightfully small, and he realises you are not replaced, it is you, but it is a you he has not seen for well over ten years, eyes wide and frightened and gleaming like game stuck through by an arrow and taking its final breath.

Daemon rears back, but it is too late. You begin to cry. A dark patch spreads out from underneath your broken body, from where he had torn your fragile opening apart. What have I done? he thinks.

“It hurts, kepus,” you say. “It hurts.”

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, fixed to stillness by revulsion. “I’m sorry. I never meant to—”

“But you did,” you insist, childish pout despite your obvious agony.

Your hands reach out, and he leans away, too horrified to touch you—and he doesn’t know if it is you or he that he is more afraid of in this moment—but you are not searching through the air for him, no. Instead, a bundled weight is settled in them, and you bring it into the crook of your arms, gripping it as though it is the most precious of objects. You smooth the fabric from the top of it to reveal a tiny head of silver hair. The babe gurgles and roots at your flat chest, absurd and awful.

“This is what you wanted,” you say, eyes filled with betrayal. “Am I going to die now, kepus?”

Your Grace…

He shakes his head, but he is no fool. You are too little to withstand the sheer volume of blood you have lost if the bedding is anything to go by. He feels it stain his legs. He feels it drying on his cock.

“Your Grace?”

“I will, though. I’m too young. You’ve killed me.” The babe begins to suckle, and you cry harder. Your body isn’t built for this task, not yet, not like this. He wants to protest, to tell you that this is not his work, cannot be, for he has and would never do something so foul, so wholly inhuman, that the you he has gotten with child has only ever been a woman grown, but it is like you know his thoughts for you scoff and say, “You’re lying to yourself. I was always too young. You just refused to see it.”

He stares down at you, immobile, unable to even think. The metallic scent of your life leaving you fills the air, floods his nostrils with stinging heat.

“… Your Grace?”

Daemon jolts, blinking. Ser Simon Strong looks back at him. “Is the duck not to your liking, Your Grace?”

All at once, you are gone. The king’s chambers are gone. He is not even within his dank chambers at Harrenhal. Instead, he sits at the table in what passes for the dining hall here, a plate full of food steaming before him. The smell makes him ill.

“There’s also goose, if you’d prefer…”

He swallows, trying to ground himself in the present. Voices waft all around him, but he finds it difficult to pay attention.

“I’m not hungry,” he says shortly. It sounds stronger than he feels.

A pause, and then—

Simon clears his throat, turning to his companions. “I was saying, given the rather dire news…”

Daemon tries to concentrate. He does. He knows the others are speaking of matters of utmost importance. Of  Rook’s Rest, of his nephew, of the war. But his mind can only turn over his encounter—his vision? His nightmare? Or is it merely truth finally unveiled to unworthy eyes?—with you, the last of your words haunting him near to madness.

“I was always too young. You just refused to see it.”

He has grown restless here, revolving between the frustration of securing an army from those who see naught in him but the very worst and the torment of these terrible visions that seek him out at their pleasure, heedless of his duty or desire. Tedium or terror—when he is entrenched in one, he wishes for the other, and there is always a sick sort of irony in the granting of said wishes. In truth, he is able enough to tolerate the resistance of these riverlanders, insulting as it is. The phantasms that pursue him have almost become too much to bear.

What is worse? The accusations from the mouth of a juvenile Rhaenyra, full of admonishments for the way he’d so thoroughly undermined her claim before she ever got the right to exercise it? The condemnations from Viserys, a retracing of steps trod so long ago, brought to life once more and forcing Daemon to relive the very worst of his brother? The boy’s laughter darting through the stone halls, an ominous prelude to the sickening sound of steel sawing through skin and the rolling of his head, landing always at the feet of the one responsible for his fate?

They are all bad enough as they are, but for the simple fact that they do not surprise him. Monster, they call him, and he wears the name well. In most all aspects, he is a monster. But never has he thought himself monstrous to you.

He has come to despise the sight of you here, sometimes docile and worshipful, sometimes angered and raving. Sometimes you appear as a siren come to lure him to iniquity, and like a fool he always falls into the trap. Other times, you are battered, caged, a shell of yourself. No matter how it begins, the end is always the same: bloodied, beaten, fading from the world, and it is always his hands he finds the cause of it in. A new reminder every time of all the ways he has thought of taking you, owning you, keeping you. Always, he thinks to save you—to protect you. Always, he destroys you.

Just as he thinks himself finally driven to the edge of all reason, the Rivers woman beckons him to the godswood.

“When you came here,” she says, “you were a closed fist. You wished to bend the world to your will. But you’ve discovered, I think, that… this world will not be governed. There are omens here for those who seek them.”

She pauses. The air seems to whisper, to creak in the dark. Daemon suppresses the urge to shiver. Her eyes move to him, an odd little quirk to her mouth. Amusement, he thinks. Or pity.

“You do not scoff?” she asks.

How can he, after all he has seen here? He has been brought to the very edge of sanity by these omens. What irony, it is, after the great complaints he has made of superstition in past weeks (and months, and years).

“I’m no longer inclined to,” is his short reply.

She laughs. “I’m pleased to hear it.”

She stops before the heart tree and turns to him, expression solemn.

“Do you wish, then, to learn what is given to you?” The answer must lie in his face, for he cannot do anything but stare, silent, tense. “All your life, you have sought to command your own fate”—she takes his hand—“but today, you are ready.”

Gentle pressure at his wrist, and something in him knows to move past her, to take those final few steps so that he is close enough to make out the details of the face carved into the wood. His arm raises by itself, acting on its own power, or perhaps some higher power, his fingers brushing bark and the hot pulse of… blood? But he has no time to truly question it for—

He is flying—

No—

He is a raven, staring at the face of a pale-haired man with a wine-dark stain on his face and he flies into the forest, towards an army, only there is something wrong with the soldiers, they are blue and their eyes glow ice-cold and their breath is frosted with death and their bodies carry the look of corpses stood upright once more—

And then the dragons are dead, all of them, the ground wet not with water but with blood and he walks through it, falls straight into the ground and he is drowning, steel plate armour dragging him down into the depths and he looks up at the sky—

A red comet bursts through the air, hot like fire, and he sees eggs embroiled in flame, a girl sat in ash cradling the bodies of three newly-hatched dragons, a whisper of a memory on the air, “we are the only ones able to bring the fire to life… It is the secret”—

And he is before the Iron Throne, suddenly silent.

Rhaenyra stands before the seat. Viserys’s crown is in his hands. She moves toward him, down the stairs of the throne. He hears her speak.

“From my blood…”

But she does not finish. A roaring conflagration engulfs her and she screams, twisting and warping before him, burning, only not, because you step from the flames, unburnt, voice mingling with that of your sister’s, a haunting echo.

“… come the Prince Who Was Promised…”

You are before him, taking the crown from his grasp and retracing the steps your sister took, and then you are stepping over a charred body, Rhaenyra, oh gods, and ascending the steps. You sit. You lift the crown. You place it on your head.

“… and his shall be the song of ice and fire.”

He is on his knees now, right on that final step at your feet. He feels the warmth of you as you bend forward, your palm caressing his jaw. You look otherworldly in the shadow, backlit silver and gold and wearing a king’s accoutrements far better than any of your predecessors.

“You know what must happen now, Uncle,” you say gently, kindly. “You know what you must do.”

He bows his head to kiss your ring—the seal of the king—no, the queen—and then wind is whistling in his ears, chilling him to the bone and spraying his hair about wildly, so much so that he can barely hear the words yelled at him by the boy sitting astride Vhagar.

“You have lived too long, nuncle.”

—and he wrenches away, panting, body collapsing before the heart tree like a puppet with its strings cut. The world comes back to him in fragments: the scent of dirt and woodlands, the sharp sting of cold, the ache in his muscles that has since settled like sludge at the bottom of a river, ever-present and persisting. Finally, finally, he withdraws with hands washed clean, free of his many sins.

At last, he has come to the crux of it. At last, he understands.

He sits at the base of the tree, stunned and overcome, as faint words slither on the breeze, a final knell from the liminal space of prophecy. Your name. A cheer.

“Long live the queen! Long live the queen!”

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[frankcastleonlyfans]

𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐈 𝐌𝐄𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑

pairing: dad!daemon targaryen x mom!reader au

summary: your son maegon visits his sick old uncle, viserys, and end up learning the story of how you met your husband.

author's note: look who's back... this story was based off two asks, this one, and another one asking how daemon and mom!reader met. and now mom!reader is officially dornish!!!! i will not be making descriptions of her features in the future, but just know that mom!reader is poc. i hope you guys enjoy this story. it feels good to write again.

warnings: none ig

reblogs, feedbacks and likes are appreciated. support your content creators 💓 please leave a comment if you like my work, and enjoy your reading.

dad!daemon x mom!reader au masterlist

gif by @gameofthronesdaily

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ༓ ༓ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

It is sad when a family member gets sick and you know there's nothing you can do about it. So when your brother-in-law fell ill, it came the time you had to explain to your children that King Viserys wouldn't be the same he once was. The hard part was trying not to scare them with the thought of losing their uncle.

The news brought sadness to Alyssa's and Rhaegon's hearts, but Maegon was the most affected one. He felt the necessity of doing something for his beloved uncle so that even though the King now lay indisposed, he could still feel loved. Your son was old enough to realize that besides Helaena, Viserys' kids did not care for him. That made him sad. Rhaenyra lived in Dragonstone, and for so she couldn't give the attention her father deserved.

The boy had the idea of asking Queen Alicent to let him pay some company for King, during the evenings where he would like someone to talk to. As she needed a break from the sick man herself, she would let Maegon take over her place wherever she felt like it. Which was, almost every evening.

During one of those evenings, Prince Daemon thought it would be nice to see what his brother and son talked about. Mostly, he just wanted to see his brother interacting with anyone, to have the certainty that Viserys would still be alive for a while. The King had little to no hair on his scalp. His body couldn't stand up without the supported of a cane. Daemon didn't know how much time his older brother had left.

When Daemon made entrance to the monarch's solar, he found his son and his brother giggling softly. It felt good to hear the laughing. It meant Viserys was in fact, still alive.

"May I know what is so funny?" The Rogue Prince asked, making his presence known.

Maegon was startled by his father's voice. He has been visiting his uncle for weeks now, but not once his father wanted to come with him.

"Oh, hello Daemon" Viserys grinned at the sight of his sibling, "what a coincidence to see you right now. I was just telling Maegon about that time when we were kids... Do you remember when we tried to find The Cannibal?"

Daemon chuckled, "I do. We searched around all Dragonstone until Father found us before we got inside a Volcano's cave."

"And we never found him!" Viserys laughed.

"Well, thank Gods! You two would probably be eaten or burned alive and I wouldn't be here today to hear the story if you did find him." Maegon reasoned, watching his father pacing around the King's solar.

Daemon's fingers danced around the huge model of Valyria that his brother had exposed in the middle of his room.

"I miss the good old days when I was brave. Once I was sword fighting, I was riding Balerion, I took my little brother to look for a cannibal wild dragon..." Viserys sighed softly.

"You are brave still, uncle" Maegon assures, "It takes bravery to rule. And it takes bravery to be kind. You are a good King."

Viserys nodded to his nephew's words, taking his hands across the table. Daemon felt warmth in his heart. He couldn't quite understand that sensation, but he sees that part of him feels glad that his son expressed words and emotions he could never say or show, because he didn't know how to.

"Did you know that I was the one who introduced your mother to Daemon?" Viserys asked, with fun in his tone, "Have I ever told you the story?"

"Oh, you haven't!" Maegon engaged, grinning excitedly, "Do tell me, uncle, please."

We were all at Driftmark to prestige Corlys and Rhaenys' wedding. Nobles from all across the Seven Kingdoms were there, and your mother was one of them. I remember she was wearing her house colors in her dress. She was a bit older than your sister is now, I think.

My late wife, Aemma, introduced me to her, I didn't know they were friends. I discovered that the lady whom I had just met, was not only a Princess but also played part as a knight at her father's guard. She wore that dress with such grace, that I thought my ears deceived me when I imagined her wearing armor and ringmail.

My thoughts were disturbed by Caraxes' whistling noises, when Daemon, who was very late for the ceremony, came flying upon our heads, rounding Corlys' castle. Everyone was watching the little show your father was giving, mouth-opened, shocked, scared. Y/N wasn't any of those things. She wasn't impressed at all. I remember asking her;

"Have you ever seen a dragon?"

and smirking, she replied, "Where I come from, we have scarier animals."

"Scarier?" Aemma questioned.

"More dangerous." Y/N reasoned.

"I suppose you're right, Princess Y/N," I said, "There are beings more lethal than a dragon, like the very man who rides it can be far more dangerous for his ideals, than the dragon under his command."

It felt like I summoned my brother once I said those words.

"Prince Daemon" Y/N made a short reverence to greet his presence.

"Brother, let me introduce you to Princess Y/N of Sunspear, she is a good friend of Aemma's."

Daemon kept his smugly signature grin on his lips, and took Y/N's hand in his, kissing the soft skin of her knuckles.

"I am deeply sorry for being late for the ceremony. I hope dear cousin Rhaenys can forgive my missing presence." Daemon changed the subject without paying any interest to the lady who made us company.

His rudeness made me uncomfortable, but it was so like my brother to behave like that.

"Y/N, you should come visit us. Viserys and I would love to welcome your family to Dragonstone." Aemma smiled and looked at me for reassurance.

I nodded, "Feel free to visit whenever you want. It is a very lonely place, and unfortunately, the only family we have there is my brother, as Aemma and I are still trying for a child."

Before Y/N could give us an answer, Daemon retorted, "My apologies if living with your younger brother is not what you expected of marriage."

"It certainly is not what I was expecting." Aemma playfully hit Daemon with her elbow.

Y/N giggled softly and the noise took Daemon's attention. He was quite curious why she was still there, in his presence. Most people who didn't know him are likely to feel uncomfortable with his intimidating presence, but not that girl.

"Are you here with your family?" He questioned. That was the first time he spoke directly to her.

Y/N shook her head, "My father sent me here in his name to prestige Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys, and give them our wedding gift."

"Oh. I see Dorne's economy must be great if its ruler has enough gold to spend on such superficial events." Like always, Daemon felt the need to say something directly rude.

Y/N frowned, "I thank the Gods our economy is doing well. It certainly is not because of your King." she replied. Her head remained raised, and her eyes stared at Daemon's on the same height.

Daemon felt strange. That woman wasn't offended by what he said, and even tried to get under his skin. One had to have such courage to talk to him like that.

"Uhm... Viserys, why don't you take Daemon to get that wine Corlys was talking to you about?" Aemma spoke trying to break the tension.

"When I took him away, he couldn't shut his mouth about Y/N. He was amazed a woman had the guts to talk to him like that, and even so about the King." Viserys finished the story, as Maegon quietly listened to every word he said.

"She never really had much filter, your mother." Daemon said, "Still doesn't."

Maegon frowned, "But... that's it? That's how you met mother? But, when did you start courting her, father?"

"She came to Viserys' coronation ceremony. Aemma was pregnant and couldn't make her company, so I offered myself for my sister-in-law to be the one hosting her friend in King's Landing." Daemon shrugged, "The rest... well, maybe you should ask your mother how it happened. I don't remember very well, but I know she quickly fell in love with me."

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Thinking…

[m00ntunaart]

Bad Batch/His Dark Materials AU!

Here’s The Batch with their daemons! Be warned I have so many thoughts behind this AU. So leave now if you don’t want to read my absolute essay of a lore dump.

My idea for this AU is that all the clones tend to have dogs daemons, both in line with the whole ‘clones are the same’ idea and ‘dogs who follow orders’ stereotype, but also this idea in this universe that the ‘Vode’ are a “pack” of sorts. Generally the clones’ daemons are dog breeds with pointy ears. And battalions usually get made up of clones with same dog breeds as daemons (the 501st has mostly huskies/malamutes and the 212th has mostly German Shepards/Belgian Malanois for example). All of this to say, Clone Force 99 stands out even more in this AU because of their daemons. “Regs” who have daemons that deviate from the ‘normal’ type of daemon clones’ have, get terminated. Though for clones to have daemons that settle into something ‘abnormal’ is rare to begin with. So The Bad Batch having not-dog daemons AND being allowed to live is kinda the main reason of tension between The Batch and the ‘Regs’.

Some more details about TBB in this AU: 

Because Ghost is albino, she has sensitive eyes and bad vision in general. Which is an interesting duality to Crosshair’s exceptional eyesight. 

All through out s1-3 of TBB I imagine Omega’s daemon (Delta) hasn’t settled, and she shifts between a bird of prey and different dogs breeds. And Delta often will shift into the same animal as the other Batchers’ daemons when interacting with them. It’s not until Omega escapes Tantis with Crosshair that Delta settles into a Timber Wolf.

Echo’s daemon (Mimic) was originally a grey husky, but after being captured by techno Union she starts to shift into different dog breeds. This is very unparalleled, it’s very rare for daemons to shift again after they originally settle. And it’s NEVER happened to a clone before. Its not until Echo joins The Bad Batch that Mimic settles again as an Australian Cattle Dog. Though it takes even longer than that for Echo and Mimic to become comfortable with each other again.

[hisfavegirl]

Sweet Little Family - Daemon Targaryen x Reader.

Summary : It's been six years since your marriage, your children have grown up to be like their father. You are very grateful to have a husband like Daemon, who can give you a sweet little family.

You walked slowly, following the quick, excited steps of your triplets. Their silver hair shimmered in the sunlight, flowing like silk ribbons as they ran ahead of you. Their laughter echoed through the stone halls, filling your heart with warmth.

“Slow down, little dragons,” you called gently, placing a hand on your growing belly. Your voice carried a mix of affection and mild exasperation. “Don’t make me chase you.”

Nearly six years had passed since their birth, and it was hard to believe how quickly they’d grown into such lively children. Each of them had their own unique energy — Maegon always leading the charge, Vaelya trailing close behind with a mischievous grin, and Aerion darting from side to side like a little whirlwind.

Footsteps echoed behind you, and you glanced back to see Daemon approaching. His eyes were locked on you with a mixture of pride and concern. “You’re pushing yourself too much,” he remarked as he reached you, his hand resting gently on your lower back. “Let them run wild. They’ll tire themselves out soon enough.”

You smiled up at him, feeling the warmth of his presence beside you. “If they tire themselves out, they’ll only have more energy later,” you replied with a knowing look.

Daemon chuckled softly, his eyes briefly flicking to your belly. “And soon enough, there’ll be another one running around with them,” he said, resting a hand over yours on your stomach. His touch was firm but tender, his thumb gently stroking the fabric of your gown.

“Or maybe two,” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

Daemon’s eyes widened for a moment, then he laughed, tilting his head back. “Don’t say such things, my love. I can barely manage three of them as it is.”

You laughed along with him, watching as your children stopped at the end of the hall, waving for you both to hurry. Your heart swelled with love for them — for all of them.

Daemon carried you with ease, his arms strong and steady as he walked toward the garden. The warmth of the sun filtered through the leaves, casting soft golden light over the vibrant greenery. The sound of your children’s laughter echoed in the distance, drawing your eyes toward them. They were running freely, their silver hair glinting like threads of moonlight as they chased one another with boundless energy.

“Put me down, Daemon,” you said softly, your arms around his neck. “I can walk just fine.”

“Not while I’m here,” he replied with a teasing grin, his eyes filled with warmth. “Besides, you deserve to be spoiled.”

You shook your head, smiling at his stubbornness. He finally set you down beneath the shade of a large tree, making sure you were comfortable before sitting beside you. You leaned back against the trunk, your eyes locked on your children. Maegon was leading his siblings on an imaginary quest, waving a stick like it was a sword. Vaelya followed close behind, mimicking his movements, while Aerion kept zigzagging between them, laughing as if he were the dragon they were all chasing.

“They’ve grown so fast,” you murmured, your hand resting on your belly, feeling the faint flutter of life inside.

Daemon’s eyes flickered to you before settling on the children. “Too fast,” he agreed, his voice low and thoughtful. “Soon, they’ll be wielding real swords.”

“Not too soon, I hope,” you replied, glancing at him with a raised brow.

He smirked but said nothing, his gaze softening as he watched them play. Moments later, Maegon noticed him and waved eagerly. “Papa, come play with us!” he shouted, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

“Yes, Papa! Come chase the dragon!” Vaelya added, bouncing on her feet.

Aerion simply pointed at him, grinning with mischief in his eyes.

Daemon glanced at you as if asking for permission. You waved him off with a small laugh. “Go on, Rogue Prince. Your little dragons are calling for you.”

He stood, brushing the dirt from his clothes, and strode toward them with a grin that matched Aerion’s. The children squealed in delight as he lunged toward them, playfully growling like a dragon. They scattered in every direction, their giggles filling the air.

You watched them with a serene smile, leaning back against the tree. The sight of Daemon chasing the children, his eyes alight with joy, filled your heart with peace. It was moments like these — simple, fleeting moments — that you cherished most. For all the grandeur and power of the Red Keep, this was your true treasure: your family, happy and whole.

You gently rubbed your swollen belly, your fingers tracing soothing circles over the growing life within you. Your eyes stayed fixed on Daemon and your children, their laughter filling the garden like a melody of pure joy. It was a sight you never grew tired of — your family together, safe and happy.

A movement from the corner of your eye drew your attention. Turning your head, you saw Aemma approaching with little Rhaenyra toddling beside her. Aemma’s hand rested on her own growing belly, her steps slow and careful but graceful nonetheless. Her smile was warm and knowing, the kind only another expectant mother could offer.

“Look at them,” Aemma said, her eyes following the wild chase between Daemon and your children. “I don’t know who’s having more fun — the father or the little ones.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “It’s always him. He acts like he’s doing it for them, but I know better.”

Aemma sat beside you, exhaling deeply as she shifted to get comfortable. Rhaenyra climbed into her lap, snuggling close to her mother’s side. “I think it’s sweet,” Aemma said, stroking Rhaenyra’s silver-blonde hair. “They’ll remember these moments forever. It’s rare for fathers to be so present.”

You glanced at Daemon, watching as he spun Vaelya in the air, her giggles sharp and bright as dragonfire. “He’s stubborn, reckless, and far too proud,” you said with a small smirk. “But with them… he’s soft. Softer than he’ll ever admit.”

Aemma hummed in agreement, her gaze fond. “It suits him,” she said, glancing at you. “It suits you, too. Motherhood becomes you.”

You tilted your head, raising a brow. “Says the mother of the Realm’s Delight,” you teased, nodding at Rhaenyra, who was now playing with the ends of Aemma’s sleeves. “She’ll have the realm wrapped around her little fingers.”

Aemma chuckled, brushing her fingers through Rhaenyra’s hair. “She already does,” she admitted, eyes full of love. “But soon, you’ll have more little ones to wrap you around theirs.” Her gaze flickered meaningfully to your belly. “How are you feeling? Any easier this time?”

You sighed deeply, resting your hand on your belly. “They’re strong,” you said softly. “Stronger than the first three. I feel them day and night, moving, stretching… sometimes it feels like they’re already fighting each other.”

Aemma laughed, eyes sparkling with amusement. “That just means they’ll be warriors. Like their father.”

“Gods help me,” you muttered with mock dread, though you smiled as you spoke. Your eyes softened as you looked back at your children. “One of him is already enough to handle.”

“True,” Aemma said with a grin, leaning back. “But I have a feeling you can handle them all.”

The two of you sat there for a while, sharing quiet conversation and laughter as your children played. The sun filtered gently through the leaves, warming your skin as the cool breeze kept you from growing too hot. It was a rare, perfect moment of peace in a world that often felt far too unpredictable.

And as you watched Daemon gather Maegon, Vaelya, and Aerion into a fierce embrace, spinning them all in a circle, you felt it once again — that steady, unshakable warmth of home.

You glanced at Daemon, watching as he tried to wrangle Maegon, Vaelya, and Aerion all at once. Maegon had climbed onto his back like a little dragon claiming its perch, Vaelya was tugging at his arm demanding he “fly her like a dragon,” and Aerion had taken it upon himself to chase a butterfly with absolutely no regard for the chaos he left in his wake.

Daemon’s face was a mix of exasperation and determination, his silver hair disheveled from the tiny hands tugging at him. He muttered something under his breath, likely a curse, but his lips twitched in a barely concealed smile. No one else would notice it, but you did. Despite his complaints, he was enjoying every second.

You pressed a hand gently to your belly, feeling the familiar flutter of movement from within. The knowledge of the secret you were carrying — two little lives, not one — made your heart swell with a strange mixture of joy and guilt. You hadn’t told him yet. Part of you feared his reaction, knowing how much effort it already took to manage your three lively children. Seeing him now, juggling their boundless energy with a patience only he could muster, made you hesitate.

Aemma leaned closer to you, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips. “You should tell him,” she whispered, her eyes flicking toward Daemon. “It’s not like he’ll love them any less.”

“I know,” you replied, eyes still on him. “It’s just… look at him, Aemma. He’s outnumbered as it is.”

“And yet, he’s still standing,” Aemma pointed out, giving you a pointed look. “If there’s anyone who can handle five dragonlings, it’s him. You’ve seen it yourself.”

You sighed, brushing your fingers over the curve of your belly. “I’ll tell him soon,” you promised, though you weren’t sure if it was more for Aemma or for yourself. “Just… let me enjoy this peace a little longer.”

“Peace?” Aemma snorted, tilting her head toward the scene in front of you. Daemon had finally managed to catch Aerion, only for Maegon to dart away with Vaelya close behind. “That doesn’t look like peace to me.”

You laughed, unable to deny it. “It’s our kind of peace,” you said, eyes soft with love.

At that moment, Daemon turned, his eyes meeting yours. He arched a brow, noticing you watching him. He narrowed his eyes playfully, as if suspicious of your hidden thoughts. Slowly, he shook his head, feigning defeat. “Stop looking at me like that, love,” he called, hoisting Maegon over his shoulder as if he weighed nothing. “Unless you plan to come help me.”

You smiled sweetly, leaning back against the tree. “You’re doing so well on your own, husband,” you called back, earning an exaggerated groan from him.

Aemma laughed at your side, and you couldn’t help but join her. Yes, you would tell him soon. But for now, you simply wanted to watch him — strong, stubborn, unshakable Daemon Targaryen — being the most chaotic, devoted father in the world.

Your children’s eyes lit up with excitement as soon as Daemon mentioned the Dragonpit. Maegon practically bounced on his feet, his silver hair wild from all his running earlier. “Dragonpit! Dragonpit!” he chanted, his little fists pumping the air. Vaelya clapped her hands in delight, her sharp, curious eyes wide with wonder, while Aerion’s face broke into a mischievous grin as if he were already planning some grand adventure.

“Only if you listen to me,” Daemon said firmly, his voice laced with authority but softened by affection. “No running off. No climbing. No touching anything unless I say so. Do you hear me, hatchlings?”

“Yes, papa!” they all chimed in unison, their faces far too innocent for it to be believable.

You folded your arms across your belly, raising an eyebrow at Daemon. “You know they’re only saying that because they’re too excited to think.”

Daemon smirked, his gaze flicking from you to the three eager children at his feet. “I’m aware,” he replied, bending down to Maegon’s level, giving him a pointed look. “But if they don’t behave, they’ll be back here so fast they won’t even know what happened.” He glanced up at you, his eyes softening. “You should rest, anyway. Aemma will keep you company.”

“I’ll do more than that,” Aemma said, sitting beside you on the bench with a knowing grin. Her hand gently cradled her own growing belly. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t try to follow you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you said, though both Daemon and Aemma gave you the same skeptical look.

Daemon moved to your side, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. His hand lingered on your belly for a moment, his thumb gently stroking over the fabric of your dress. “We won’t be long,” he murmured, his lips brushing your temple.

“Just be careful,” you whispered, your fingers curling lightly around his wrist.

He grinned as he pulled away, his violet eyes filled with mischief and confidence. “They’ll be riding dragons before you know it, love. Might as well start learning now.”

You shook your head with a quiet laugh as you watched him round up the children. Aerion darted ahead, but Daemon was quick to grab him by the back of his tunic, lifting him off the ground like a cat snatching up its kitten. Vaelya tugged on his other hand, trying to pull him forward faster, while Maegon marched ahead like he was leading a grand procession.

“Dragonpit! Dragonpit!” Maegon started chanting again, his siblings quickly joining him in chorus.

“More like ‘Chaospit,’” Aemma muttered beside you, her tone light with amusement.

You laughed, leaning back against the bench with a sigh. Your hand came to rest on your belly, feeling a soft flutter from within. Twins. Again. You glanced toward Daemon one last time, your heart full of love and quiet awe as you watched him wrangle your little dragons with so much patience and care.

“Do you think he knows?” Aemma asked softly, following your gaze.

“Not yet,” you replied, your voice just as quiet. “But he will soon enough.”

Aemma smiled knowingly, her eyes flicking back to the scene before you. “He’ll be thrilled,” she said. “Overwhelmed, maybe, but thrilled.”

You nodded, your gaze softening as you watched him lift Vaelya onto his hip while holding Aerion’s hand. Maegon, of course, had run too far ahead, and Daemon called after him with that sharp, commanding tone that only he could use.

Yes, you thought, watching him with a full heart. He’ll be thrilled.

With each step down the stone corridors of the Red Keep, you felt the weight of your growing belly. Your hand rested protectively on it, fingers gently stroking as if to soothe the little ones within. The soft thud of your footsteps echoed through the halls, accompanied by the light chatter of Aemma and the occasional babbling of little Rhaenyra in her mother’s arms.

“Are you certain you should be walking so much?” Aemma glanced at you with concern, adjusting Rhaenyra on her hip. “You’re carrying two, after all. Perhaps it’s time to sit for a while.”

“I’m fine, Aemma,” you reassured her, though you did pause for a moment to catch your breath. “I won’t be locked away in that chamber for weeks just because they think I’m too delicate. I’ll rest when I must.”

Aemma gave you a look that was somewhere between amusement and exasperation. “Stubborn as ever, I see.”

“Have you met my husband?” you teased with a grin. “I think it’s rubbing off on me.”

The two of you shared a soft laugh, but it was short-lived as faint whispers reached your ears. It wasn’t unusual. Servants and courtiers alike always had something to say, and with your growing belly on full display, they had even more to gossip about.

“She should be resting, not wandering around like that.”

“Three children already and now more on the way. How does she manage?”

“Prince Daemon won’t be pleased if she overexerts herself.”

You clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to ignore it, but Aemma’s eyes narrowed. She turned her head, her gaze sharp as she scanned the hall. “Do you hear them whispering like rats in the walls?” she muttered, adjusting Rhaenyra in her arms. “If I were you, I’d have half the Keep scrubbing floors for talking about me like that.”

You smiled faintly, tilting your head toward her. “I’ve learned to let them talk. It gives them something to do.”

“Too kind, as always,” Aemma replied, rolling her eyes. “If it were me, I’d give them something else to do.”

The thought made you chuckle softly. The whispers didn’t bother you as much as they used to. You’d grown used to them. You knew they’d never be truly silent, especially when you were married to Daemon Targaryen. If they weren’t whispering about you, they’d be whispering about him.

When you finally reached Aemma’s chambers, the warmth of the fire welcomed you inside. The faint scent of herbs and honey filled the air. A servant poured fresh tea, and you gratefully took a seat on one of the cushioned chairs. The relief on your body was immediate, and you let out a soft sigh as you leaned back.

“I told you,” Aemma said with a playful smile, handing you a steaming cup of tea. “Sitting is much better, isn’t it?”

“Don’t gloat,” you replied, taking the cup with both hands. The warmth seeped into your fingers, and you inhaled the sweet aroma. “But yes, you were right.”

Aemma raised a brow, as if to say, Of course I was. She sat across from you, balancing Rhaenyra on her lap. The little girl reached out, grasping at Aemma’s braid with curious eyes.

The two of you sat in peaceful silence for a while, the crackling fire the only sound between you. Occasionally, Aemma would hum a soft lullaby for Rhaenyra, and you watched with a small smile, one hand resting on your belly as you felt the soft kicks of your own babes.

“Do you ever wonder,” Aemma said suddenly, her gaze distant as she watched the fire, “what kind of mother you’ll be to them?”

You glanced down at your belly, feeling the strong kicks of your unborn children. Your heart swelled with love, warmth, and a tinge of fear. “Every day,” you admitted softly. “I wonder if I’ll be enough for them. If I’ll be able to guide them the way they deserve.”

“You will,” Aemma said firmly, her gaze meeting yours with quiet certainty. “You already are.”

Her words settled over you like a warm cloak. You smiled at her, eyes glistening with gratitude. “And you’ll be there too,” you said with quiet affection. “They’ll have you, just as Rhaenyra has you.”

Aemma tilted her head, a soft smile playing on her lips. “I will,” she promised.

The warmth of the fire, the softness of the tea, and the quiet strength shared between the two of you made the world outside seem distant. For now, you let yourself feel safe.

You glanced at Aemma, her face bathed in the golden glow of the firelight. She was cradling Rhaenyra on her lap, her fingers gently smoothing down her daughter’s silver hair. Her gaze was soft, but there was a depth of experience in her eyes — one you understood better now that you were a mother yourself.

After a moment of hesitation, you spoke quietly, “Aemma… how was it for you? Your pregnancies, I mean.” You glanced at her with a mixture of curiosity and empathy. “I know this isn’t your first, and… I know you lost one.” Your voice softened at the end, not wanting to stir painful memories but needing to understand.

Aemma’s fingers paused for a moment as she looked down at Rhaenyra, her lips pressing into a thin line. For a moment, you feared you’d overstepped, but she took a deep breath and nodded slowly.

“It was hard,” she admitted, her voice quiet but steady. Her eyes remained on Rhaenyra as if finding strength in her daughter’s presence. “The first time, everything felt so new. I was excited, nervous, and hopeful. Viserys was by my side through it all, and I thought nothing could go wrong.” Her eyes flickered with a hint of sorrow. “But the gods had other plans.”

She shifted slightly in her seat, adjusting Rhaenyra, who had begun to doze against her chest. “The second time, I was terrified from the start. Every ache, every twinge, I feared it was happening again. I barely slept, and neither did Viserys. I think he worried more than I did.” Her lips quirked into a faint smile at the thought of her husband.

Her gaze met yours then, her expression filled with quiet resolve. “But Rhaenyra came into this world strong and screaming, and I knew she was different. She had to be.” Her voice softened, full of love and pride. “She was my proof that even after loss, there is hope.”

You nodded slowly, her words sinking into your heart. “I think about that sometimes,” you confessed, running your hand over the swell of your belly. “I have three already, but this pregnancy feels… different. Heavier. Harder. I wonder if it’s because there are two of them, or if the gods are testing me.”

Aemma reached over and placed a hand over yours, her warmth grounding you. “You are strong,” she said firmly, squeezing your hand. “The gods do not test those they do not believe can endure. And you have already proven your strength time and time again.”

Her words settled over you like a soft cloak of comfort. You exhaled deeply, feeling the weight on your heart ease just a little.

“Thank you, Aemma,” you said quietly, your eyes meeting hers.

She smiled, and in that moment, you felt a bond between you grow stronger. Two mothers, two women who had faced the unknown with courage, bound together not just by family but by shared experience.

Aemma’s eyes softened with concern as she watched you prepare to leave. “Are you sure?” she asked, her voice laced with worry. “I can have one of the guards accompany you to your chambers. You should take it easy.”

You smiled gently, reassuring her. “I’ll be fine, Aemma. I appreciate the concern, but I’m just a few halls away. I’ll be careful.”

She hesitated for a moment, as though unsure if she should insist, but then she nodded. “Very well. But if you need anything, don’t hesitate to call.”

“I won’t,” you promised, your voice warm with gratitude. “Thank you for everything.”

With a final smile and a gentle pat on her hand, you slowly rose from your seat, feeling the familiar weight of your growing belly. You took a moment to steady yourself, before giving Aemma one last look and making your way toward the door.

As you walked through the halls of the Red Keep, the quiet sounds of the castle surrounded you, yet there was a sense of calm in the air. The path to your room seemed longer than usual, but each step you took, you felt more confident. You had endured much already—this small walk was nothing you couldn’t handle.

As you rounded a corner, you felt a gentle wave of dizziness, but you steadied yourself against the wall. A brief moment of unease passed, but you shook it off. Just a little longer, you told yourself, then you’d be able to rest.

When you finally reached your chambers, the door opened to reveal the warmth of the fire crackling inside. The sight of Daemon, seated near the hearth, brought a sense of relief. He looked up at you, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

“You’re back,” he said, his voice low and filled with affection. “Everything well?”

You nodded, though the slight heaviness in your chest told you that there was more to be wary of than you’d let on. “Just a walk,” you replied, trying to keep the weariness from your tone. “Nothing to worry about.”

Daemon stood up, his eyes scanning you with concern. “You should rest,” he said, stepping closer. “Let me help you.”

You smiled at him, the warmth of his presence easing the last of your unease. “I will,” you murmured. “But I wanted to be sure everything was in order before I lay down.”

Daemon’s hand rested gently on the small of your back, guiding you toward the bed. “You’ve done more than enough,” he whispered softly. “Now, let’s make sure you and the little ones get the rest you deserve.”

You leaned into him, feeling the safety of his embrace as he helped you settle back against the pillows. With his soothing touch and the quiet of the room, you finally allowed yourself to relax, knowing that Daemon would be there, watching over you and your growing family.

As the warm glow of candlelight flickered softly in the room, you sat back against your pillows, your gaze fixed on Daemon and the children gathered around the dinner table. Laughter and soft chatter filled the air, and you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of happiness watching them. Daemon, ever the protective father, kept a watchful eye on the children, though his usual stern expression softened whenever he glanced in your direction.

Your hand instinctively found its way to your belly, the slight flutter of your baby within making you smile. The babes was active, just like their siblings had been. You couldn’t help but wonder what this new child would be like—whether they’d share the same silver hair and sharp eyes as their brothers and sister, or if they’d be different in some way.

Daemon caught your eye, his own smile forming as he noticed your gaze lingering on the children. “Are you thinking about the little one?” he asked softly, his voice carrying a warmth that only he could convey.

You nodded, your hand still gently caressing your stomach. “Yes. They’re very active tonight.”

Daemon chuckled, his eyes glinting with affection. “Seems like they’re just as eager to meet us as the others were.” He turned to the children, who were quietly eating, their attention still on the food before them. “Your sibling’s already making their presence known.”

The three of them looked up, their faces lighting up at the mention of their future sibling. “Is the babe going to be like us, Mama?” Maegon asked, his silver hair falling over his eyes as he eagerly looked up at you.

Vaelya, ever the curious one, added, “Will it be a boy or a girl?”

You smiled, your heart swelling with love for them. “I don’t know yet,” you answered gently. “But I do know that the babe will be just as special as all of you.”

Aerion, who had been quietly playing with his food, looked up and said, “I want to teach them how to play with dragons.”

Daemon’s smile deepened as he leaned forward, his gaze softening. “I have no doubt they’ll be just as adventurous as their older siblings.”

The warmth in the room was palpable, and you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of contentment. As Daemon leaned in to kiss your forehead, you closed your eyes for a moment, taking in the beauty of the moment. In this little family of yours, there was so much love, so much joy.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely above a murmur. “For everything.”

Daemon’s hand gently squeezed yours as he looked into your eyes, his own filled with nothing but tenderness. “There is no need to thank me,” he said, his voice filled with sincerity. “I’m just happy to be here with you, with our children. This is everything I’ve ever wanted.”

You smiled, content in the warmth of your family, your heart full. It wasn’t just the food, or the children’s laughter—it was this life, the one you had built together, that filled you with a sense of fulfillment.

Tonight, with Daemon and your children by your side, you truly felt at home.

You gazed at Daemon, watching the way his eyes crinkled at the corners as he laughed at something Maegon said. Your heart felt full, and for a moment, you hesitated. But then, as you looked down at your growing belly, you knew it was time.

“Daemon,” you called softly, your voice gentle but firm enough to catch his attention.

He turned his head toward you, his sharp gaze immediately softening. “Yes, my love?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, his curiosity piqued.

You glanced at the children, who were still focused on their food and small conversations. Then, you returned your gaze to him, eyes filled with quiet excitement. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Daemon’s brows furrowed slightly as he leaned forward, his full attention now on you. “What is it? Are you feeling unwell?”

You shook your head, letting out a small breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. Your hand rested on your belly, your fingers moving in slow, thoughtful circles. “No, I’m fine. It’s not that.” You met his gaze, your eyes filled with both mischief and love. “It’s about the baby… or rather, babies.”

His eyes flickered with confusion for a heartbeat, his brow arching. “Babies?” he repeated, as if testing the word on his tongue.

You nodded, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Yes, Daemon. Twins.”

For a moment, his expression was unreadable. He blinked once, then twice, as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard you correctly. Then, a grin—wide, wild, and undeniably Daemon—broke across his face.

“Twins,” he repeated, but this time with the excitement of a man who had just won a great victory. He threw his head back, laughing—a sound so full of joy it echoed through the chamber.

“Seven hells, woman,” he said, his voice filled with unrestrained pride. He stood from his chair, crossing the room in a few long strides before kneeling at your side. His hands cupped your face, his eyes searching yours as if to make sure this was real. “You’re carrying two of them?”

You laughed, finally releasing the breath you’d been holding for so long. “Yes, two. The maester confirmed it weeks ago, but I wanted to be sure before I told you.”

Daemon’s grin never wavered. He pressed a firm kiss to your lips before lowering himself to his knees. His hands gently rested on either side of your belly, his forehead leaning against it as if he were speaking directly to the babies inside.

“Two more dragons for the world to fear,” he murmured, his voice thick with pride and love. “Do you hear that, little ones? Your father is waiting for you. You’ll be fierce and bold, just like your mother.”

The children had stopped eating, their eyes wide with surprise. “Two?” Vaelya gasped, looking between you and Daemon. “Two more babies?!”

Maegon’s face lit up, and he leapt from his chair, his silver hair bouncing as he ran toward you. “Can I name one of them, Mama?” he asked eagerly, climbing up onto the side of your chair.

Aerion was right behind him, his little hands tugging on Daemon’s arm. “Me too! I want to name one too!”

Daemon laughed and scooped up both boys, one under each arm, holding them with ease. “You can give them all the names you like,” he said, his grin never fading. “But the final say will be your mother’s.”

Vaelya crossed her arms, her face scrunched in thought. “I want a sister this time,” she declared firmly. “We already have too many boys.”

Daemon raised a brow at her, his grin still playful. “We’ll see, little dragon.”

You leaned back in your chair, heart light and full of love. Watching them all like this, the children’s excitement, Daemon’s pride—it was everything you could have hoped for.

For a while, you’d carried the secret alone, but now that he knew, it felt as if a great weight had been lifted. And seeing the way his eyes burned with pride and joy, you knew you’d made the right choice to wait.

The Targaryen family was growing, and with Daemon by your side, you knew there was nothing you couldn’t face together.

You lay nestled in the large bed, surrounded by warmth and the gentle weight of your family. Daemon’s arm was draped protectively over you, his body pressed firmly against your back, his warmth lulling you into a sense of peace. His breath was soft against your neck as he whispered, “Comfortable, my love?”

You nodded, letting out a soft hum of contentment. Your hand rested on your swollen belly, fingers tracing gentle circles over the stretched fabric of your nightgown. The soft glow of the firelight flickered across the room, casting golden shadows that danced on the stone walls.

Vaelya lay on your other side, her silver hair fanned out like a halo on the pillow. Her small hand was pressed firmly against your belly, her eyes wide with wonder. When she felt a kick, her face lit up with pure excitement. “I afelt it!” she gasped, turning her gaze to you. “They kicked, Mama! They kicked!”

You smiled down at her, brushing a hand through her hair. “They’re strong, aren’t they?” you said softly. “Just like you.”

Not wanting to be left out, Maegon and Aerion crawled up from the foot of the bed, each of them vying for a chance to feel the babies. “Me too! I want to feel it too!” Aerion declared, his face scrunched in concentration as he pressed his small hands against your belly.

“Move, I was here first!” Maegon argued, trying to shove his brother aside.

“There’s room for both of you,” you laughed, grabbing them both and guiding their little hands to a spot where you had felt movement.

The moment another kick landed, their eyes lit up with awe.

“Did you feel that?!” Maegon’s face was full of wonder, his mouth hanging open. “It’s like they’re fighting in there!”

“I bet it’s a dragon egg hatching,” Aerion said, his face full of seriousness, as if he had solved a grand mystery. “We’ll have dragons in Mama’s belly!”

Daemon let out a deep, hearty laugh behind you, his chest rumbling against your back. “If that’s the case, we’ll need a bigger bed,” he teased, his hand sliding down to cover yours on your belly. “No dragons in here, only warriors.”

“Or princesses,” Vaelya added quickly, shooting her father a defiant look.

“Or princesses,” Daemon agreed with a grin, leaning over to kiss her forehead. “Fierce and unstoppable princesses.”

Aerion yawned loudly, rubbing his eyes before flopping down beside you, his little head resting against your arm. Maegon wasn’t far behind, curling up on Daemon’s other side, his hand still lightly resting on your belly as if he didn’t want to miss another kick.

“Stay,” Vaelya whispered, tucking herself close to your side, her fingers curling against your nightgown. “Don’t go anywhere, Mama.”

“I’m not going anywhere, sweetling,” you whispered, brushing a kiss on her head. “I’m right here.”

Daemon shifted, pulling the covers up over all of you. His hand stayed protectively over your belly, his thumb moving in slow, soothing strokes. “Sleep, my loves,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “I’ll watch over you.”

Surrounded by the warmth of your family, you let your eyes flutter closed. The soft breathing of your children, the steady beat of Daemon’s heart behind you, and the tiny movements of the babies within you all merged into a single, perfect melody.

For this moment, all was right in the world.

As you sat in front of the mirror, one of your attendants carefully braiding your hair while you worked on your daughter Vaelya’s hair. The soft silver strands glistened in the light as you carefully braided them into neat, intricate plaits. You could feel the weight of the day ahead settling on you, but it felt grounding to focus on these small moments. The quiet rhythm of the task, the closeness with your children, and the morning stillness were all moments you cherished.

Vaelya looked up at you, her big eyes full of curiosity as she wiggled in her seat. “Mama, will we see Papa today?”

“Yes, sweetheart,” you said with a smile, finishing the last braid. “After your lessons, we’ll go see him.”

Once you finished, you moved on to Maegon and Aerion, making sure they were dressed and ready for their own lessons in the garden. The three of them, though young, were already eager learners, each with their own personality and way of interacting with the world around them. They had all inherited the silver hair from you and Daemon, a constant reminder of your family’s strength and lineage.

After making sure they were all set, you stood up and led them out of the room, your attendants following behind to ensure everything was in order. You made your way through the Red Keep toward the garden, where the children’s lessons were often held, the smell of fresh flowers filling the air.

As you arrived, the children excitedly ran ahead, eager to see their tutors and begin their lessons. You watched them with a smile, feeling proud of how they were growing and learning every day. Once you were certain they were settled in, you turned your attention to the training yard. You knew Daemon would be there, focused on his sparring and practice, as usual.

Walking toward the training yard, you felt your anticipation build. You could already hear the sounds of swords clashing, the rhythm of battle, as well as the shouts of soldiers and sparring partners. Daemon’s presence was unmistakable, even from a distance. He was always a figure of strength, commanding attention without even trying.

As you entered the yard, you spotted him right away. He was engaged in a match with some of the guards, his movements swift and precise. You couldn’t help but smile as you watched him—his dedication to his craft, the way his muscles rippled with each swing of his sword, and the focused look on his face.

You stood back for a moment, content to watch him from afar, savoring the sight of him in his element. The children were with their tutors, and now you could allow yourself to enjoy a quiet moment of watching your husband, feeling a mix of admiration and love for the man who had so much strength, both in body and spirit.

Daemon’s eyes immediately found you among the crowd, his gaze hardening slightly as he noticed the way you were standing there, watching him. His sparring partner paused for a moment, and Daemon stepped away, wiping sweat from his brow as he made his way toward you. His stern expression softened only when he reached your side, and despite his usual strong demeanor, there was a hint of concern in his voice.

“You should be resting, not standing around like this,” Daemon said, his tone laced with a gentle command, but his eyes showing a deep, protective care. “You know you’ve been through so much already. Come, let’s return to our chambers.”

You smiled at him, feeling a playful glint in your eyes as you reached down to touch your swollen belly. “They’re just excited to see you, Daemon. They’re as eager as I am to see you training.” Your words were soft but filled with affection. You felt a small, contented kick from the babies inside you, and you couldn’t help but laugh quietly.

Daemon shook his head, though his lips curled into a slight smile. “You can’t even let me finish one training session without being distracted.” He took a step closer to you, looking at your swollen belly and then back at you with a mixture of frustration and love.

“Please, just sit for a while,” he said, gesturing toward a nearby chair with a sigh. “You need to rest. You’ve been on your feet far too long already.”

With a small sigh of your own, you relented and nodded. “Alright, I’ll sit here, but I’m not going back to the room just yet.”

Daemon’s expression softened, and he placed a hand on your shoulder, gently guiding you toward the chair. Once you were seated, he stood next to you for a moment longer, his eyes scanning the training yard and then looking back down at you, his concern evident but softened by the love he had for you.

“You’ll always be stubborn, won’t you?” he murmured, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Only when it matters,” you replied with a wink, and you leaned back into the chair, content to watch him from a distance, knowing that you were surrounded by those you loved and that Daemon would always make sure you were safe.

One of your attendants, noticing your discomfort, approached you with concern. “Princess, are you alright? You seem to be in pain,” she asked softly, her eyes scanning your face for any signs of distress.

Daemon, still focused on his training, didn’t seem to notice the change in your expression. You knew he would worry if he saw how uncomfortable you were, so you hesitated before responding, not wanting to distract him.

“I’m fine,” you said, though your voice betrayed a slight tremor. “Just a little discomfort. Nothing to worry about.”

The attendant wasn’t convinced, however, and placed a gentle hand on your arm. “If you’re not feeling well, perhaps we should return to your chambers and let you rest,” she suggested, her tone gentle but insistent.

You sighed, realizing that the discomfort wasn’t something you could ignore much longer. “Perhaps you’re right,” you finally admitted, giving in to the pain. You turned your gaze back toward Daemon, your heart tightening a little at the thought of interrupting his practice.

But the attendant gently guided you toward your feet, offering support. “We can go to your chambers now, my lady. Let us help you.”

With a reluctant nod, you agreed, standing up slowly, your hand resting on your belly. You could feel the weight of the babies inside you as they shifted and moved. As you turned to leave the training yard, your gaze briefly met Daemon’s. For a moment, he looked up, sensing something was off, but you gave him a reassuring smile, not wanting to worry him.

“We’ll return to the room,” you said softly to him. “Resting for a while.”

Daemon nodded, his eyes still locked on yours for a moment longer. “Be careful,” he called after you, a note of concern in his voice despite his usual hard exterior.

With the attendants supporting you, you slowly made your way back to your chambers, hoping the discomfort would pass soon.

As you continued walking, the discomfort grew stronger, and you could feel the tightening sensation in your abdomen becoming more intense. The familiar pressure and cramps spread across your lower belly, and it became clear that this wasn’t just ordinary discomfort. These were contractions.

You stopped in your tracks, feeling a wave of anxiety wash over you. The attendants, sensing the change in your posture and expression, immediately stopped beside you.

“Princess, are you alright?” one of them asked, her voice laced with worry.

“I need to rest,” you said, though your voice trembled slightly. “Please, send for the maester. I think it’s time.”

The attendant nodded urgently, her face pale with concern. “At once, princess,” she said, and she quickly hurried off to fetch the maester.

The seconds felt like hours as you stood there, gripping your belly, the pain intensifying with each passing moment. You tried to remain calm, but the anxiety of what was happening weighed heavily on you. With the added weight of your growing belly and the pressure of the contractions, it was becoming harder to stand.

Your breathing became shallow, and you could feel a cold sweat on your forehead. It seemed like the universe had decided this was the time for you to deliver, and the reality of it all made your heart race. You could only hope that the maester would arrive in time and that everything would be fine.

You leaned against one of the guards for support as you waited, trying to steady yourself as the contractions continued to come in waves.

You heard the hurried footsteps and the familiar voice of Daemon calling your name with urgency. Turning your head, you saw him rushing toward you, his eyes wide with panic and determination. Relief flooded you at the sight of him.

“It’s time,” you said breathlessly, gripping your belly as another sharp contraction rippled through you. “The babies… they’re coming.”

Daemon’s eyes darted to your swollen stomach, his expression shifting instantly from worry to fierce resolve. Without a moment’s hesitation, he scooped you up in his arms as if you weighed nothing, holding you close to his chest.

“I’ve got you,” he said firmly, his jaw set in determination. “Hold on to me.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, clinging to him as another wave of pain coursed through your body. He moved swiftly but carefully, shouting for the guards and servants as he strode toward your chambers. “Clear the way! Call for the maester now!” His voice was loud and commanding, the kind of voice that no one dared to question.

People in the corridor stepped aside, some of them bowing while others moved to fulfill his orders. Your heart pounded in your chest, each throb echoing the rhythm of your breathing.

Daemon glanced down at you, his eyes softening just a fraction. “Breathe, love. Just breathe. We’re almost there.”

You nodded, though your breaths came in short, uneven gasps. The pain was relentless, and you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to focus on the steady thud of Daemon’s heartbeat beneath your ear.

By the time you reached your chambers, the maester and a group of midwives had already arrived. Daemon laid you gently on the large bed, brushing a strand of damp hair from your forehead.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, his voice quieter now but no less certain. He knelt by your side, taking your hand in his, his thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of your palm. “You’re strong. You’ve done this before, and you’ll do it again.”

You gave him a tired smile through the pain, gripping his hand tightly as another contraction seized you. “Stay with me,” you whispered, your eyes locked on his.

“Always,” he swore, his eyes never leaving yours.

You lay on the bed, gripping the sheets with trembling hands as another powerful contraction surged through you. The pain was unlike anything you had felt before — sharp, relentless, and all-consuming. A guttural scream tore from your throat, filling the room with echoes of your agony. The midwives moved around you with practiced precision, their calm voices urging you to breathe and push.

“Just a little more, my lady,” the maester said firmly but gently. “The first one is almost here.”

Daemon knelt beside you, his face filled with concern, his hand firmly clasping yours. His other hand brushed through your sweat-soaked hair, his eyes never leaving your face. “Breathe, love,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “You’re stronger than this pain. I’m right here.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you squeezed his hand with all the strength you had left. “It hurts, Daemon,” you gasped, your voice strained and hoarse.

“I know,” he whispered, his voice breaking just a little. “I know, my fierce girl. You can do this.”

Another contraction hit, and you arched your back, crying out as your body bore down with all its might. You could feel the shift, the pressure intensifying as the baby moved lower. The maester’s voice was urgent now.

“One more push! Come now, my lady, one final push!”

With every ounce of strength you had, you bore down, your breath hitching with the effort. Daemon pressed his forehead against yours, grounding you, his murmured encouragements filling your ears. Then, all at once, a sharp release — and suddenly, the room was filled with the shrill, piercing cry of a newborn.

“It’s a boy!” the maester declared as he lifted the tiny, wriggling child into view. The midwives moved quickly, cleaning him and wrapping him in soft cloth.

Tears streamed down your face as you reached for him, but the maester shook his head gently. “Not yet, my lady. We still have another.”

Another? Your heart pounded in your chest. You had been so focused on the first that you’d momentarily forgotten. Daemon squeezed your hand tighter, his eyes wide with awe as he glanced at the newborn being carried to the side. He quickly returned his attention to you, his grip steady and unwavering.

“You’ve got this,” he said with renewed determination. “One more, love. Just one more.”

You nodded weakly, exhausted but driven by the knowledge that another life still waited to enter the world. Another surge of pain hit you, stronger than before. You cried out, and the midwives placed their hands on your belly to guide you.

“Push, my lady! Push!”

You gritted your teeth, bearing down again, sweat slicking your skin as every muscle in your body strained. Daemon’s lips brushed your temple, his words a constant reassurance. “Just a little more. I’m right here. Right here.”

Minutes passed in a blur of pain, tears, and the echoes of your own voice filling the room. Then, the sound you had been waiting for — the sweet, desperate wail of your second child.

“It’s another boy!” the maester announced, his voice filled with relief. The baby cried loudly, his tiny fists waving in the air as he was lifted into view.

“Two sons,” Daemon breathed, his voice filled with awe and disbelief. He leaned down, pressing a firm, lingering kiss to your forehead. “You did it, my love. You brought them both here.”

Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you stared at the two crying infants being wrapped in cloth. Tears streamed down your face, and all you could feel was overwhelming relief and love. Daemon’s hand cupped your cheek, wiping away your tears with his thumb.

“They’re perfect,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

Daemon’s gaze softened as he looked between you and his newborn sons. “Perfect,” he agreed, his eyes shining with pride.

You sat comfortably on the edge of the bed, cradling one of your newborn sons in your arms. His small fingers curled around yours, his eyes barely open as he nestled into your warmth. Daemon sat beside you, holding the other baby with a look of quiet awe, his silver hair falling slightly over his face as he gazed down at his son.

Both of you glanced up as the sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway. The door swung open, and Maegon, Vaelya, and Aerion burst into the room, their faces filled with excitement and curiosity. Vaelya was the first to climb onto the bed, her wide violet eyes darting between the two babies.

“Are they here?!” Maegon asked breathlessly, his face red from running. He climbed up beside his sister, while Aerion peeked around Daemon, his eyes filled with wonder.

“Yes, they’re here,” you said softly, smiling as you leaned down to show them the baby in your arms. “Come, meet your baby brothers.”

“Two?” Vaelya’s face scrunched up as she looked at both of them. “No fair. I wanted a baby sister.” She crossed her arms with a huff, her silver hair falling over her shoulders.

Daemon chuckled, tilting his head toward her. “You’ll have to take that up with the gods, little one.”

Aerion, on the other hand, stared wide-eyed at the baby Daemon was holding. “They’re so small,” he said in awe. He reached out a careful finger to touch the baby’s tiny hand, gasping softly when the baby’s fingers reflexively gripped his. “He’s strong.”

Maegon knelt on the bed, peering over at the baby in your arms. “He looks like you, Mama,” he said, tilting his head in thought. “But smaller.”

You laughed softly, brushing a hand through his hair. “Yes, he’s small now, but he’ll grow big and strong, just like you.”

Daemon glanced between the three older children, his gaze warm but firm. “Now, as we promised, it’s up to you three to name your baby brothers. Choose wisely.”

The three of them exchanged looks, their little faces growing serious as they realized the importance of the task. Vaelya tapped her chin thoughtfully, still pouting a little about the lack of a sister. Maegon was already deep in thought, his brow furrowed like a man considering battle strategy.

“I want to name this one,” Aerion declared, pointing to the baby Daemon was holding. “His name should be… Aelor!” His eyes lit up with pride as if he had come up with something truly magnificent.

Daemon raised a brow, glancing at you for approval. You nodded, a soft smile playing on your lips. “Aelor. A strong name,” you said, looking at the baby in Daemon’s arms. “He looks like an Aelor, doesn’t he?”

Aerion puffed up his chest with pride. “Yes, he does!”

“I want to name the other one,” Maegon said quickly, his voice full of authority as if he had been waiting for this moment. He leaned closer to the baby in your arms, squinting at him with careful scrutiny. “He should be called… Vaegon. It sounds powerful.”

“Vaegon?” Vaelya wrinkled her nose. “That sounds like Maegon. You just took your name and changed it.”

Maegon glared at her. “It’s not the same! It’s different. Vaegon sounds like a prince’s name. A king’s name.” He crossed his arms, daring anyone to challenge him.

Daemon raised a brow, clearly amused. “Vaegon, is it? Fitting for a prince, I suppose,” he said, smirking as he looked to you. “What do you think, love?”

You gazed down at the baby in your arms, his face calm and serene as he slept. “Vaegon suits him,” you agreed softly, brushing your thumb along his soft cheek.

“Then it’s decided,” Daemon declared, his voice loud and firm. “Aelor and Vaegon Targaryen, sons of fire and blood.”

Vaelya huffed, still pouting but clearly not wanting to be left out. “Fine,” she muttered, leaning over to gently touch baby Aelor’s nose. “But if we have another, I get to name her, and I want a sister this time.”

Daemon laughed, his gaze flicking to you knowingly. “That is a bargain you’ll have to strike with your mother,” he said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close.

The older children gathered closer, their eyes shining with love and curiosity as they watched their baby brothers sleep. It was a perfect moment — one you would remember forever.

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