#daemon tagaryen x reader

[vampire-exgirlfriend]

All of my work is rated M or E (18+ only. If you’re under 18 this isn’t the space for you) and is ofc or xfemreader unless otherwise noted. Mind the tags. No use of y/n. You can also find me on ao3. My Misc. Masterlist is here and Star Wars Masterlist is here.

I do not give permission for any of my work to be translated, reposted, or plugged into AI.

Aemond Targaryen

they say I killed you (haunt me then) - Aemond x ofc Wylla Karstark | completed | Wylla Karstark is content with her life in the far reaches of the North, happy even. She has everything she ever thought she needed. Until Aemond Targaryen tumbles from the sky, abandoned by his dragon and left at her mercy.

Paper Crowns - mafia au | Aemond x ofc Viserra Velaryon | Completed | Viserra Velaryon has never buckled under the weight of her legacy, of all that she stands to inherit. The oldest daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen, she has always understood her place in the world, in her family. But when her grandfather passes, leaving behind an incomplete will and a bloodthirsty widow intent on securing her children's inheritance, she finds herself in the middle of a war that she isn't sure how to fight. Her enemy? The boy she once loved, the man she's learned to hate.

Iron and Ash - When he looked at you it was as if he had peeled the dress from your body, the skin from your bones; you had never felt more bare than when the prince gazed from across whatever room you were in, his eye fixed on you and you alone.

You've Got My Body (Flesh and Bone) - Her violet eyes crashed against his like waves against a rocky shore and the mismatched jewel tones of his gaze had her feeling dizzy; she could just make out her reflection in the facets of the sapphire he wore in place of his right eye. Without thinking, she raised her other hand, tracing the line of his scar even though she knew he couldn't feel it beneath the knot of roughly healed tissue.

Shimmer - He was hot to the touch, as if he burned with fever, and you supposed in a way, he did. He burned for you, he burned in the way that only a dragon could, with the same fire that you felt heat your own

Daemon Targaryen

Meet Me In the After - Daemon Targaryen x oc Sabitha Blackwood | upcoming | The realm holds its breath as Queen Aemma approaches the end of her pregnancy. The king proclaims loudly to any that will listen that she will finally give him a living son, an heir, and all around him rejoice. But Aemma knows, after two stillbirths, three miscarriages, and a son lost in the cradle, that Viserys will not get his wish. Dreams plague the queen, dreams of fire and blood and a dead boy in a cursed crown. Sent to court to attend Queen Aemma two years prior, Lady Sabitha Blackwood is privy to all the queen's fears, to the anxieties that plague her daughter, Princess Rhaenyra, and the pressures of court that eat at her dear friend, Lady Alicent Hightower. Stuck in a loveless marriage with a husband who grows crueler with each month that passes without an heir of his own, Sabitha finds herself preening under the attentions of the king's brother, Prince Daemon Targaryen. As the two fall deeper into a torrid and dangerous affair, the worst comes to pass.

The queen is dead, the king's heir with her, and all eyes fall on the young women closest to her. Will Rhaenyra truly be named heir? Why do the king's eyes follow Lady Alicent? And what does Sabitha know that puts her in the gravest of danger?

When It Comes To You (My World Is Deep Red) - “Is that what you seek? A great love story?” she asked with a raised brow, dismissive of the notion that Daemon Targaryen would be swayed by something so simple as that.

Salt in the Wound | completed | There was a reason they said the Targaryens were closer to gods than men; it wasn’t just their dragons that held them separate, that held them above. No, it was the way that once every handful of generations, one came along that held the ability to tear the world apart with their bare hands, to rend it with their teeth, to melt it down and attempt to recreate it in their own image.

evening star | Daemon Targaryen x Alicent Hightower x Rhaenyra Targaryen | A queen, locked high in her tower, a rose in a glass case.A knight in the form of a sharp tongued, silver-haired princess.A violet-eyed villain who speaks like a lover. Alicent has hardened herself against the promise of a gentle touch. Daemon has learned to taste love in the blood he licks from his blades. And Rhaenyra, lost in the fog of her father’s neglect, finds that she is the tie that binds. What does it mean for the realm when the Queen in Chains, the Realms Delight, and the Rogue Prince come together to create a light in the dark?

Jacaerys Velaryon & Helaena Targaryen

For the Love of a Princess - “Your fascination with me will be your death,” she said, arching up toward him, his shaky exhale ghosting over her face. She had no idea why she said it, though surely her mother would call for his head if they were caught, a replacement for the eye her desperate bid for justice could not procure.

The Conquerors (Visenya, Rhaenys, and Aegon I Targaryen)

Afterlife - She was not the wife he had wanted. He was not the husband she had wanted. All that connected them was lost now. “It should have been me.” The words came out in a whisper and Visenya wept.

Aegon II Tagaryen

Lips Like Lightning (Skin So Sweet) - This moment was just a miniscule light in the dark. But any light was better than none. Tomorrow she would leave, heading home to Volantis to start the new year back in her real life. And Aegon Targaryen, whoever he was, would go back to the people in the pictures.

heaven is not meant to house a love (like you and I) - Aegon Targaryen and his wonderful, fantastic, very good day. A they say I killed you (haunt me then) outtake, set one year before the main story. A birthday gift for @emilykaldwen

[maria-tries-to-write]

Being betrothed to Daemon Targaryen would include:

A/N: my first headcanon! I don’t think it’s my best work, but hey, at lest I’m trying! I got a little carried away with this, but nevertheless, I hope you enjoy it!

SUMMARY: A little (big, to be honest) glimpse of your relationship with Daemon at the beginnings of your marriage.

WR: f!reader, mentions of death, murder and sex work, bad words, Daemon being a dick, misogyny, arranged marriage, toxic relationship.

WORDS: +1.8k

Him hating you at first sight.

After Rhea Royce’s death, Viserys feared that Daemon would try to stop Rhaenyra and Leanor’s marriage, so he betrothed his own brother to you, the oldest daughter of a Lord from far north Westeros.

With the prince far away from King’s Landing, everything went smoothly, and to say Daemon was pissed would be an understatement.

Unfortunately, you’ve become the object of his frustration: he even thought of getting rid of you, but held back; two wives dead on a short period of time would rise a lot of unwanted attention, and a politic conflict with House Royce would be a pain in the ass.

So, he contented himself by treating you the same way he treated Rhea Royce: in the worst way possible.

He couldn’t bear stay in the same room as you, never failing to leave the moment you come.

He didn’t even look at your way, and when it accidentally happened, he would make the most disgusted face ever, as if even staring at you made him nauseous.

His childish behavior lasted until the day of your wedding.

At the end of the party, Daemon didn’t hesitate to go straight to a brothel with the few soldiers from the City Watch that were able to follow him, and didn’t show up until three days later.

On the third day, he showed up, drunk, in the middle of the night, along with two prostitutes that later he brought to his bed chambers, not before giving you his usual disdain look.

Enough was enough; you stormed in on his room, spotting them naked on his bed, the bed that should be shared with you, his wife, and instead, he was sharing it the first women he found on a pleasure house, as if you were less than a whore to him.

You took the bucket with freezing water that you asked to your handmaiden to prepare earlier, and threw it at them; the girls shirked with the shock, and Daemon was ready to insult you, but he was too astonished to cuss when you started to yell:

“YOU TWO, GET OUT OF MY FUCKING HOUSE!” the poor girls, completely terrified, scrambled theirselves, getting their clothes on while trying to fight the pinching on their skin due to the cold weather.

When they were finally out of sight, you turned to your petrified husband, if you could even call him a “husband”, and pointed at him:

“We are not having this conversation right now, it’s late and you’re drunk. So you’ll listen to me very well, because I won’t say it twice: you are going to sleep and tomorrow, first thing in the morning, we’ll talk about what happened here, do you understand me?”

Daemon couldn’t make out the words on his head, probably because of the alcohol on his system, all he could do was open and close his mouth repeatedly, which riled you up even more:

“FOR THE GODS SAKE, DAEMON! I DESERVE AT LEAST A RESPONSE!” you sighed deeply, throwing your hands in the air “You know what? I don’t care, just go to sleep.”

That night, the Rouge Prince went to bed like a child who had been scolded.

The next day, you made sure that Daemon wouldn’t try to skip on your conversation, so you asked for the maids to prepare the prince’s breakfast on a tray so you could bring it upstairs.

You weren’t shocked to see he was still sleeping: after all, he was completely drunk last night. Unceremoniously, you opened the curtains, immediately making Daemon grunt on his sleep. Getting enough of his slowness, you ripped the blankets off of him, finally managing to make him wake up.

Letting him eat a little bit of his meal first, you waited patiently by edge of the bed, sited with your hands on your lap. After a long time, you decided to initiate the conversation.

“I don’t care if you like me, love me or even desire me. Believe me, I couldn’t care less. But what you did last night was extremely disrespectful. Wether you want it or not, I’m still your wife. Do you really think I’m happy? Being married to you? No, I’m not! But I’ve never even once though to take my anger on you. You’re angry, I understand, really, but it’s not my fault if you’re in this situation. I didn’t had a say on it as much as you did! It’s unfair of you to treat me like that when I’m not even the one at fault!”

Daemon thought about your words silently, still munching on his breakfast. Indeed, bickering with you was a waste of time; also, it didn’t make his frustration go away, quite the contrary: every time it made him remember of Rhaenerya and how much he longed for her touch, attention and presence, which made him even more bitter.

However, Daemon Targaryen would never admit he was wrong, at least for now. So, he proposed a truce: both of you would bear each other’s presence, with no more bickering and no more tries to slay each other’s throat.

You left his bedroom quite satisfied; it wasn’t the perfect agreement, but making Daemon Targaryen, The Rouge Prince, know for his stubbornness, shutting his mouth and listening to you AND making an agreement? It sounded pretty much like a victory.

After the incident, Daemon wouldn’t lie that he was impressed by your attitude: most of women would simply turn around to his doings or they’d be so scared to confront him that barely a word would pass trough their lips.

However, you were different: you not only went against him but also threw freezing water on him! Do you know how many could live after that? There’s little a person can do to impress the prince, but showing him that your not afraid to impose yourself definitely makes him hats off to you.

Suddenly, he started to initiate conversations with you. Obviously, he didn’t go on a full dialogue with you, more like small talk, but still, it was a big progress.

One night, you found your husband sitting by the fire on your library, frowning deeply. You couldn’t help but stare at how his silver hair glowed with the fire’s light and how it’s glow sparkled his tired lilac eyes; suddenly sensing your presence, Daemon caught you observing him, which made you break out of your trance.

Trying to cover your embarrassment, with a soft tone, you asked what was bothering him; having no longer patience to act kindly, Daemon brushed you off, stating that “a spoiled brat like you could never be of help.”

“You’d be surprised. Try me.”

Daemon glanced at you, perplexed. Then, he laughed with disdain, sipping on his wine.

“Royce House is asking for an indemnity for Rhea Royce’s death. I’m her legal heir, so House Royce has nothing but their useless name. They require an absurd amount of money that even I couldn’t pay. And even if I could, I’d refuse to spend my money with the family of that bronze bitch.”

The Rouge Prince finished his cup before glancing at his wife; she brought her hands under her chin with a concentrated look. Not longer than a minute, she came up with an ideia:

“If you want them do give up on the indemnity, you should offer them something better than money.”

The prince scoffed “And that would be?”

“A marriage. After you, Rhea’s nephew shall inherit the Vale, right? But, our child will inherit both the Vale and my lands, plus the Targaryen name. There’s no way they’d refuse a betroth with such advantages.”

“That would be the perfect plan, if we had a daughter, my dear wife” “That’s exactly the point.”

Daemon turned to look straight at his wife’s eyes, astonished. “They don’t know we’ve never consummate our marriage, so they’d not have any other option than wait for the birth of our daughter. That way, you—” “Could keep the money and get them off of my ass.”

Neither of you noticed how suddenly the distance between you faded; Now, you’re staring at each other’s eyes while Daemon has a ghost of a smirk on his lips.

“So, a brat like me can, in fact, be of help” you said smugly.

“How can you do that?” he asked on a whisper “do what?” you asked back, the words barely audible.

“Surprise me more and more. Every time I think I’ve finally discover every single part of you, you prove me wrong once again. I must say I like that” Daemon confessed, laughing breathlessly.

“Well, it’s not as if you ever tried to know me, but I must confess that I enjoy getting to know you too.”

He suddenly went silent, so you got worried that you messed up, but the Prince was quick to brush it off “It is useless to say ‘sorry’ when you’re right. I’ve always tried my best to be the worst husband for you, and for that I’m sorry. I was frustrated back than with something that wasn’t your fault, and even so, I took my frustrations on you.”

You were very touched by his words; obviously, you didn’t forgave him out of the blue for every single humiliation he made you pass through, but to know that he acknowledged his mistakes made you hope that someday you could live a healthy relationship.

“Daemon, I’m glad that you—“ “Please, if I don’t say it now, I don’t know if I will ever again” he begged, resting his forehead on your shoulder.

He slid his hands down your arms, finally reaching your smaller hands, which he covered with his bigger ones. His palms were calloused, but still held warmth and a tenderness that you caught yourself enjoying.

Lastly, the prince looked straight into your eyes “I know you’re still hurt by my actions, but I want to let you know that I want to make this marriage work. The last few weeks were the greatest days since a long time, and I finally realized they were because of you. You fascinate me, and I want to keep learning about you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, you could no longer breath. You felt like your heart were going to jump out of your chest, but still then, you replied “I want to get to know you too, Daemon.”

BONUS:

“Now that we’re good, it was kinda hot when you yelled at me”

You looked at him, shocked “For the Gods sake, Daemon, shut up!”

“Yes mommy” “DAEMON!”

[lunarmoonanons]

The Rogue Prince and The Precious Princess

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕  

Daemon plays with the Small Dragon princess, aiming his sights on her for the future. 

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕  

Masterlist 

The Keep was finally lively again. Due to the success of Maegelle reconciling her parents, the court welcomed back the good Queen and her two sweet daughters. Now at age 6, YN could run about the Keep with her favorite playmate, Daemon. The 9 year old boy had always enjoyed playing with YN, even if she was 3 years his junior; the two would be seen playing tag, or skipping around the yards, or even sneaking around the gardens when they could sneak out of Alysanne’s sight for a moment. Now the two were running around the Keep chasing the other around, much to the delight of the nobles and guards whom they dodged. 

“You can’t catch me, Daemon!” YN giggled and swerved around a guard who smiled at the little princess. 

“Just you wait!” Daemon teased, he was slowing himself down purposefully to lengthen the game. When YN turned a corner he sped up and slid across the floor to get her. 

But when he turned the corner, YN was not in sight. Tentatively, he stepped forward and looked around for her. Ears perked when he heard giggling behind a pillar. YN was hiding from him. Catching a peek of her dress behind one, Daemon swerved around the pillar to jump out at YN. When YN peeked her head out to see Daemon, she was confused when his image did not appear. Suddenly, two hands reached out behind her and tickled her sides, sending YYN into a fury of laughter. 

“Caught You!” Daemon laughed, pleased with himself as he sent YN into unstoppable laughter. 

“Let.. HAHA…Let me…. HAHAHA… Let me GO! HAHAHAHA!” YN laughed hysterically and squirmed in his hold. When he finally let her go, YN remained smiling at the silver haired boy. “So, what should we play now?”

“Hmmm. Hide n Seek?” Daemon offered, taking long dramatic steps to circle around YN who copied his goose steps. 

“Nah, I keep getting lost and Mommy gets sad when ‘m lost.” YN responded, twirling her silver hair. 

“How about hops?” Daemon asked, smiling at the game where they’d bounce around the castle and keep it up till they saw the King or Queen. 

“My legs are too tired. Let’s play a new game!” YN suggested, excited at her new idea. 

“What about Marriage?” Daemon asked, thinking of the game he heard some of the court ladies’ daughters who played the same game with their perspective beaus. 

“What’s that game?” YN asked, tilting her head dramatically to let her hair dangle. 

“We pretend to be married and call each other husband and wife. And we have to stay together the entire time.” Daemon said hoping YN would agree. His father always said that he might marry YN, so in his mind they were just practicing. 

“Wouldn’t you play this game with Gael? She’s around your age. Daddy says ‘m too small to ever marry.” YN asked him, now suddenly wanting to find Gael and include her in their games. 

“I don’t want her. She’s too simple for me. I wanna play with someone who can keep up!” Daemon whined and held out his hand. “Please? Just for today?”

“Mkay.” YN relented and grabbed his hand, not noticing how tight he began to grip his small hand. 

“Perfect! Now let’s go to the throne room, wife!” Daemon smirked at his triumph. 

“Yes yes, hubband.” YN giggled and skipped alongside him. 

“Husband.”

“S’what I said.” 

The two young ones skipped around the keep, smiling at the people and calling each other their new titles. No one seemed to raise an eyebrow at it, since so many like Prince Baelon assumed the two would be wed one day as was custom in the Targaryen line. YN was giggling and enjoying the fake title she had now, but not as much as Daemon enjoyed it. This was more fun than practicing his Valyrian or reading histories. Though not as fun as swordplay, or flying with his father on his father’s dragon, he did enjoy his time with YN. He, like others, loved the little princess the minute she graced the Keep with her bright smile. The two were playmates when she began to walk around as his father designed it. The queen did want him to play with Gael, but Daemon found her to be too boring and dull, but YN was fun. She indulged his games and could keep up with the prince. Daemon had missed her when the queen took her away to Dragonstone, he had asked his father as to why YN was going away but Baelon could give no satisfying answer to the boy. 

Once the two had made it to the throne room, YN let go of Daemon’s hand and ran up to the throne. Much to Daemon’s dismay. 

“YN…” Daemon whined. “Your supposed to keep hold of my hand, wife.”

“Come to the chair with me!” YN smiled and waved him over. When he found his way over, YN grabbed his hand again and brought him up to the throne. “Daddy lets me sit on the chair with him sometimes.”

“It’s called a throne.”

“Drone.”

“Throne.”

“That’s what I said.” YN waved off his comment. 

YN pulled Daemon up the steps so that the two may directly sit on the throne. Daemon hissed at the slight pain the swords gave him when he sat on the Iron throne. The two managed to both sit the throne at the same time. YN kicked her feet around, while Daemon gaped at how long the room looked from this throne. He smiled at YN who returned it with her own bright and wide smile. With a boldness, like Alyssa before him, Daemon lifted YN’s tiny hand to his mouth and placed a kiss sweetly on it. 

“You and I will be married one day. And I’d be the kindest husband to you. I’d take you for a ride on my dragon every day, and we’d-”

“And you’d what? Daemon.” A loud voice interrupted them. Jaehaerys entered the throne room with a slight scowl on his face. 

“Daddy!” YN jumped off the throne and ran to her father, laughing when he lifted her up to his arms. “We were playing a new game! And we ran around the keep together! I escaped my tutor and tried to find you but I couldn’t so I found Daemon and we played chase. And-”

“Hush. Hush YN. I can’t understand you when you speak so fast.” Jaehaerys chuckled at his daughter’s ramblings. Several other lords had made their way into the room, intending to speak to the king and smiling at the sweet sight of Jaehaerys holding his daughter. “Now. What game were you playing?”

“Nothing… just a silly game called marriage.” Daemon mumbled and hopped down from the throne. 

“Hmm. And what makes you think you’d wed YN?” Jaehaerys contained his anger at the thought of someone taking YN away from him. “I do not think you are worthy enough to marry her. No one is.”

“Your majesty… do you not intend to wed her off eventually?” A lord asked, confused that Jaehaerys aimed to keep YN unwed her whole life. 

“I cannot deny that I have never wished to see YN wed. I am happy with her company and do not in the least want a separation.” Jaehaerys gave YN a tight hug and then turned his gaze to Daemon who did not waver in his glance. “And you must get back to your studies. Perhaps then you will be worthy for her. But I doubt it.”

With that, Jaehaerys dismissed the boy who’s face was red with anger and pride. Daemon collected himself as best a child could and made his way back to his rooms so that he could finish his studies. He would be worthy of YN. He’d show the old King that he’d be a strong man and a worthy match for the most precious princess.

@missglaskin

[certifiedskywalker]

Claiming Of Mine - Daemon Targaryen

Yet another banquet at the Vale hosted by House Royce presents you with yet another night with Daemon Targaryen, Prince of the Seven Kingdoms.

“I fear you have caught the eye of a certain, silver-haired guest.”

“If I am correct in which guest you’re speaking of, he looks at everyone like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like he wants to devor you.”

Your pure-circumstance companion scowled at your words. “You paint him with a broad brush.”

“No,” you murmured, averting your eyes from the visiting Lady Evealyn Celtigar of the Claw Isle and her embossed crab-covered dress. Even with the crowd swirling about the hall, it took you but a mere moment to find the piercing eyes of the guest in question. Daemon smirked at you. “I draw him with a fine point quill.”

Grey Lady Evealyn’s eyes widened and her face flushed seashell pink. As her lips pursed and puckered in search for a proper response, you left the Old Crab alone to the quiet corner you had attempted to carve out for yourself. Such solitude was mythic at these banquets, as it seemed the most ill-informed gossip in the Realm always sought to flush you out. Lady Evealyn was simply the most recent in a long line of older Ladies looking to sow rumors for the mill. They were everywhere, peppered throughout the crowd, adding to the number of shining, irksome eyes. There was no shadowy solace in a room gleaming with heedful faces and glittering gems. The grandiose light of nobles danced around the hall, blinding and horribly cajoling. 

You had no choice but to fight your way through; but when it came to the beacon that was Daemon Targaryen, you willingly surrendered.

Careful not to take an improper step, you wove through the crowd and towards his brightness. You dipped and bowed whenever a handsome Lord or Lady took pause of you. After a pleasant greeting, you fed them a sorry excuse for your early leave and continued on your journey across the room. At each mannerly stop, you could feel Daemon’s sly smirk spreading across his lips, burning as the source of his light. By the time you reached him on the other end of the hall, he was grinning like a child promised a sweet.

“I see everyone and the Old Crab has taken note of your presence at this vile affair.” His words were ribbing, slanted, and laced with the sweet-sour twinge of the wine he sipped at.

“You sound envious, dear Prince.”

Daemon’s grin pressed itself into a closed-lip smile, one that did not dare reach his narrowed, crystaline eyes. This look you knew as his thin guard against your teasing, not that he would ever admit to needing a guard. No, Daemon was offensive in all manners, your banter included.

“If they knew who the heir to House Grafton bedded, they would sound so very envious,” he leaned down to you, close enough to prompt quick, gossip-starved glances from passersby. “You know how I so enjoy being the talk of these banquets. Shall we spill your secret?”

“Our secret,” you corrected, tipping your chin up to situate your lips daringly close to Daemon’s. His pale brows rose in surprise at your boldness before he put on his airs again.

“Oh, you see, pet,” he drawled, unyielding to your closing proximity, “I hold no secrets. None of my ladies and loves are hidden so. Lest you forget, I am Lord Flea Bottom.”

You fought the wild, burning urge to brush back the stray strands of silver hair that fell across the side of his face as he spoke. Daemon, eyes flicking down along your figure saw the urge in the itch that twitched in your fingers. His grin returned at the sight and you cursed yourself for so revealing your shattering resolve, your own offense dwindling like a dying fire. In an attempt to recover, you straightened your posture to the peak of proprietary.

“Yet none know of me. What does that make me, if not your lady or your love?”

You saw it then, again, what Lady Evealyn Celtigar had refused to see in the Prince’s pointed gaze: hunger. If not for the wine he held and the hoard of Valemen about, Daemon would have shed his skin into red scales akin to Caraxes’ and sunk his claws into your softest flesh. How futile it would be to try to dodge the maw of a keen Dragon. Though, to be devoured by Daemon would be, and was, worth the bite.

“You,” he said, eyes razing over the features of your face, “are simply mine.”

The last words slipped from his lips in a wine-scented whisper before he leaned back. You held eye contact as he brought his chalice up to his mouth. Before he sipped, Daemon tipped the golden rim of it towards you in the smallest of toasts. As if swallowed by flame, heat bloomed across your body at the gesture, the weight of it only for you and he to bear. Your secret.

Before you could collect yourself, Daemon quickly emptied the chalice of wine in one slug and leaned back over towards you. Mellow fruit from the Arbor Red soaked into his lips and you ached to kiss the color from his skin. Rich, woody scents and the smell of cinders distracted you from that cloying want. As did the warmth that burned out from Daemon’s limbs so near you. It was an attack on your resolve, offensive, in the best manner.

“When my lady wife sleeps, I’ll show you what that title means.”

You heard the clinking of the chalice bottom being placed at rest against the table behind you before Daemon pulled back. There was no blush on the high peaks of his cheeks, no starlit glint of mischief in his hawk eyes. Nor was there a smile, of any sort, playing on his lips. The man, no…the Dragon before you was staid, a hunter with his prey marked.

Only at your prolonged silence did Daemon’s lips slightly quirk up at the corners. He had you, and you both knew it, felt it. Granted, you were certain he had always had you. As Daemon wordlessly stalked away, you felt that he was certain in that too.

And that certainty bled into the night, licked at your wounds of waiting. You endured the pestering of fellow banquet guests, including the re-emergence of Lady Evealyn Celtigar from where you left her. She was tipsy and therefore more resigned. Though even resigned, she was talkative, rampant in her chittering about the other Lords and Ladies. The ignorance of the elder head of House Celtigar regarding the culture of the Vale, of King’s Landing, was clear in her romantic optimism.

It took every drop of desire for self-preservation to not search for Daemon while the Old Crab scuddled in and out of conversation. What a relief a simple look from him would deliver to you.

Though, a far greater relief was given when Rhea Royce bid those still assembled in the great hall a farewell. Daemon stood near his wife’s side, his sharp features dark in the torch light. His presence was symbolic only, the shadow of a crowned Dragon looming over this gathering of lesser men. For, if he were truly present, Daemon would be all gnashing teeth and laughter. That was how you met him, so many Vale banquets ago.

The Lady of Runestone made her early escape, Daemon trailing a few paces behind. You watched him go, watched how his hair washed like silver waves over his shoulders. He looked like a dark tide being shrunk by the setting moon as he washed out of the great hall. Further like a tide, you knew Daemon would return eager to sweep you away. 

Until then, you had to stay afloat within the less savory political talk that erupted in the hall to fill his absence. Pretense shed, male heirs to the Vale’s great Houses chastised their host for her hapless marriage to the Prince that had yielded no children, no sons for them to ward. For them to groom for their game. At the thought, your stomach twisted.

“Oi! No sons we know of,” shouted one lord.

“Half the bastards of Flea Bottom are of his line,” cried another. “Dirty dragonseed!”

The epithets soared like Dragon fire across the room and burned just the same. Even the mildly drunken, chronically chatty Lady Evealyn felt the scorch of their words and seemed stalled in her merriment. The Old Crab sunk in her seat at what she likely deemed slander, dress of crustaceans crumpling with her. At such a rate, she too would be able to pen a far more accurate picture of Daemon Targaryen. Though, still nowhere near as accurate as yours.

You knew him, his rarest forms and his most base. That was why, when the large, wooden doors to the great hall opened as if to welcome a new arrival, you were not surprised to see Daemon instead of another noble stranger. The crowd about you, however, was shocked silent. 

His arms were spread like wings holding the twin, grand doors open. There, centered in the strip of light, he stood, listening to the new quiet that swelled in his presence. After a tense enough pause, he let his arms fall to his side and he started down the main thorofare of the great hall. Daemon’s path was bordered by full tables and the wide, worried eyes of nobles realizing their mistakes.

“Do not settle on my account,” he boomed as he stepped. Dark, shining eyes surveyed the faces around him, marking prey. When you met his gaze, Daemon lingered, but only for a moment. “Talk of your future King, please. Give my bastards life with your words and be tried for treason when I sit on the Iron Throne.”

He stopped in the middle of the great hall as he spoke, chest rising and falling with all the presence you knew him for. A different hunger hung around him. Daemon would hunt every soul sat around him for the sport of it. Every soul save for yours, which he had other plans for.

“I am the blood of the Dragon, and we burn our enemies. I do so hope you will not find yourselves amoungst the pillars of ash.”

Stillness eeked through the crowd, with lords and ladies watching Daemon watch them. As he drank in the fear, the harsh glare he wore morphed into a lizard’s smile. He was enjoying this, just as he said he would.

Before he could bask further in the silence he wrought, a sharp, singular bloom of applause sprouted. You turned your head and saw Lady Evealyn, eyes wide and thin arms quaking as she clapped for Prince Daemon. Following the lead of their matriarch, the remaining House Celtigar envoys joined the chorus. Before long, and looking to buy themselves even a modicum of safety, the rest of the captive audience applauded. Even those of House Royce, under the thumb of Daemon’s wife Rhea clapped, though notably less committed.

The Prince threw his arms up and out as if soaking up the sound. His head threw back and his hair spilled over his shoulders. He looked glorious, kingly, and arrogant. Eventually, he gave a wave of his hands and the crowd fizzled its noise back into its rumbling chatter. Though, the name of Daemon Targaryen fell only then with niceties from noble lips.

“He could conquer Dorne with a mouth like that!”

“Fire and Blood!”

It was a wonder, how swiftly the minds of men could change with the right motivation.

“Perhaps the Vale can be redeemed after all.” At the sound of his voice growing nearer, you looked from the manic men about you and to Daemon. He approached you, shoulders back and face tilted up. He looked as he did on the back of Caraxes. Natural and wild.

Daemon kept walking, forcing you into the alcove carved out behind you. Shadows hugged you both as the noise of the hall was lessened by stone walls. You hummed at the dimmed sight of him, how he peered down at you through slightly hooded eyes that glinted still, despite the dark. 

“The Vale is in need of redeeming in your opinion?”

Daemon lifted his right hand and you caught the glimmer of his rings in the far off torch light. The back of his fingers brushed against your cheek with a startling tenderness. His skin was warm against yours, a stark contast to the cool masonry that dug into your back.

“Some parts, yes,” he murmured, taking one last step towards you. His heat enveloped you, with his chest pressed to yours. Each breath he took, you felt as your own. “Not you.”

“I’m honored,” you said, a smile spilling over your lips as you tipped your chin up towards Daemon’s. “On the behalf of House Grafton, of course.”

“Of course,” Daemon replied, leaning down to capture your lips with his. At last.

His touch was a fervor. The kiss was a mess, wet, and wine-tasting. Steadiness came only when Daemon’s hand lifted to grip your chin, holding it still. Your hands rose up along his chest, grazing the red-thread, embroidered dragon bodies sown into the black fabric. Fingertips curled into the collar of his tunic and held him close.

“Mine,” one of you mumbled, voices melding in the dimness.

“Yours,” the other replied before you moved through the shadows and out of the great hall, becoming one within the dark.

[pinkydevil16]

Aemond targaryen x targaryen reader: part 30

The next morning Y/n had a clear head, ready to propose her decision. Standing in front of her mother and father, their trusted followers surrounding the table Y/n spoke confidently.

"I wish to abdicate as Heir to the iron throne." The room exploded, some lords agreeing due to her past with the greens, others demanding they wanted a Queen to stay on the throne. Rhaenyra and Daemon held hands, Rhaenyra standing and the room turned silent. Staring at her daughter she looked into her eyes.

"Why do you wish to give us everything we have worked for?" Rhaenyra spoke harshly, a disappointed tone hidden beneath the slight anger. 

"Everything we have worked for will not be forgotten, Joffrey may rule, and i wish to be allowed to leave for Dragonstone with Aemond. I will give up my claim on Vhagar, she may be claimed by a future king or queen. We will live by ourselves and not pose a threat to you." Y/n's voice did not waiver, she was clear with her wants, leaving little room for interruption.

"And what will happen if you have a child Y/n? How can you know he won't turn them against you, raise them to conquer us and take the throne when they are older. This is foolish of you to throw away your right for someone who would kill you for a crown!" Rhaenyra shouted at her daughter, hoping to see a crack in her resolve but her daughter stood strong, hands behind her back and shoulders squared.

"If that is what you fear then cut out my womb." The room became hollow at the answer, the lords shocked, the one purpose women had to bare a child and the daughter of a targaryen would take away her sole reason. Rhaenyra stared at her daughter, could she lose her daughter again because of a green. Daemon stood up, the council turning to him as he walked towards his daughter. 

"You would sacrifice so much for him?" Y/n nodded, taking her fathers hand gently.

"I do not expect you to understand, i do not fully understand myself, i may never understand my decision but this is the only one which feels right." Daemon hummed in thought.

"Would he give up the same for you?" Daemon asked, demanding a guard collect the imprisoned prince. The council waiting in  silence as the guards walked Aemond through the doors, his gaze finding Y/n even though she was not facing him. He could not help the smile that came to his face as he saw her, pushed to his knees in front of the council. 

"Aemond, the council has decided Y/n is guilty of treason as are you." Aemond whipped his head towards Daemon, instantly fighting the hold.

"You touch her and i swear to all that listen i will burn this castle to the ground. If you wish for blood take mine, i will bathe in Vhagar's flame if it appeases you but i beg you to let her live." Aemond shouted, shoving any body part he could to try to get to Y/n. Daemon nodding at the guards to let him to, Aemond instantly holding Y/n in his arms.

"Any debt that must be paid can he paid by me." Aemond pushed Y/n behind him as he stared down Daemon. 

"Are you satisfied father?" Y/n moved from behind Aemond, taking his hand in hers. 

"I will not be deprived of grandchildren at the fear of being overthrown. You are my daughter, to take that from you would be a punishment worse than death." Daemon walked to Rhaenyra, whispering in her ear before standing beside her.

"I, Rhaenyra Targaryen, Queen of the seven kingdoms declare Joffrey Tagaryen my heir. Y/n is stripped of her title as first born. Any children you have will not sit on the throne, they will have their titles but no claim to my crown. Aemond Targaryen, if you pledge your loyalty to me you will be allowed-" Aemond dropped to one knee, pledging his loyalty to Rhaenyra without a question, apologising for his actions. The council were shocked by how quickly he gave up any ounce of power he could have possessed, he would never be king, his children would never sit upon the throne but he did not care for he could be with Y/n. 

Rhaenyra watched as her daughter climbed on Vhagar, Aemond behind her pulling her up gently. His hold secure so she would not fall, a tender smile on his face as he placed his head in her neck. She had allowed the couple to keep Vhagar, a line of defence in case of war, she no longer feared the future as she looked upon them. Daemon had been clear, if he heard even a whisper of Aemond hurting his daughter he would be turned into a rug in the redkeep. The two permitted to return to kingslanding when they pleased, they would be welcomed as well as any children they would produce. 

The two arrived in Dragonstone, Aemond picking up Y/n causing her to giggle, kissing her deeply. 

"I love you so much."

"I love you too."

i think this series is over? I might do requests on it for cute little scenes etc but i honestly think this might be the end i am heart broken! If anyone wants an alternative ending send in requests :)

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[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

MASTER-LIST : AUGUST - DECEMBER UPLOADS

Welcome to my blog!

This is my space for regularly scheduled nonsense, written and drawn and otherwise.

Reader insert request rules can be found here.

HYACINTHUS:

Chapters:

1. The Hooded Spectator | 2. Arcitenens | 3. The Bond Deepens | 4. The Eternal Vow | 5. Meeting the Family | 6. Zephyrus | 7. For you I will cross-over

August uploads: The First king of Lanka

LOTR Imagines for August

Sauron x Reader : Farewell | Thranduil x Reader : Obey

Hellboy Imagines for August: Prince Nuada x Reader: Mine

Patrochilles : The Wonder of You

June and July posts can be found here.

SEPTEMBER- 

The Divine Scavenger Hunt

Chap. 1 | Chap. 2 | Chap. 3 | Chap. 4 | Chap.5 | Chap. 6. | Chap. 7 

Patrochilles Week 2022:

Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Day 8

OCTOBER 

Kinktober

Thranduil x Reader | Haldir x Reader | Nuada x Reader | Glorfindel x Reader |  Fëanor x Reader | Melkor x Reader 

NOVEMBER

Tales of the Elvenking

Melian Heraldry | Beren Heraldry | Luthien Heraldry | Thingol Heraldry

 Daemon Tagaryen x Reader

Aemond Targaryen x Reader 

Good Omens Gabriel x Reader: Desecration

Thranduil x Reader : Temptation 

Desmond x Reader : Adoration

Reader insert requests are open.

Asks / Anons are encouraged. 

[maria-tries-to-write]

Nevermind my last post, I’m currently working on a headcanon of Daemon Targaryen, and I must say, I’m quite proud of it! It is not finished yet, but a girl needs to celebrate her own small victories!

Now, here it is a BIG spoiler of what is to come:

It's been YEARS since I wrote and I've never wrote in english, so I have no idea when I'll FINALLY post something. Please, be patient with me!

[lunarmoonanons]

just a silly idea I had and didn't know where else to put it.

Platonic yandere hotd request or ask its up to you. What if Reader was cursed like dany's baby but survived.

So when Aemma was pregnant she afraid because after so many miscarriages and stillborns she didn't want that to happen again, So she made a deal with a witch or used some type of dark magic to insure that she will successfully be able give birth however something goes wrong, she was pregnant with twins. Both were supposed to die but because of the magic one survived (the reader), although she look like a human but had dragon features such as a tail, wings, horns and a few small scales across her body.

Not silly at all! I quite enjoyed this one!

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕  

The Cursed Dragon

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕  

Aemma had been desperate. She had one child who died in the cradle, two stillbirths, and two miscarriages; Aemma was desperate to have a second child. To prove to herself, and admittedly others, that her womb wasn’t cursed and she could produce a healthy child. An heir would be preferred, but she just wanted one to live. 

So after it was confirmed she was pregnant, Aemma was desperate not to lose this one. She sent all the maesters and septas away from her, deeming that they made her worse. Viserys had tried to protest, but the terrified and drained look from his wife gave him cause to listen to all her demands. A shadow witch from Asshai was summoned to Aemma in the dark of night, under the name of a Pentoshi witch, so that Aemma could ensure that her baby would make it. In the dead of night, the two were illuminated by fire from a black candle. The witch whispered to the queen that she was pregnant with twins, that unless she agreed to everything the witch said both would die. Aemma sobbed, saying she just wants a baby, the witch did not seem to respond to her tears asking again if she agreed.

 With a nod, the shadow woman took Aemma’s hand not to console her but to run a blade across the palm. Aemma hissed as the woman dripped the blood from the blade onto the flame, the fire growing stronger and harder at the taste of her Targaryen blood. Taking her bloody palm, the witch rubbed the blood onto the swollen stomach and into that blood she designed strange symbols with her fingers. A sharp pain stabbed Aemma on her lower right side of her belly. Their shadows danced on the walls as the witch explained the rest of the ritual. Aemma was not to let any of the maesters or covenant members of the faith of the seven touch her or her baby, to drink only hot water, that when she gives birth it must be alone. Aemma nodded along rubbing her stomach, stopping when the witch said only one child will survive this. With that the strange shadow witch blew out the candle and disappeared into the night. 

The next few months were relatively easy, few kicks from the baby and some movement from the left upper side of her belly. The time of her labor was long, unlike her other pregnancies she felt a burning fire in her stomach as well as rapid kicks from one child. The first to emerge was already dead, a curled up baby. The second stilled as soon as its brother exited the womb, once it was birthed Aemma passed out immediately from shock. No one knew she was in labor so no one was around to watch the baby. Once she had awoken Aemma was met with the sight of a whining baby girl, she looked like no baby she had seen before. Little hard nubs were on the top of her head, scales that were soft and lightly red scattered across her cheeks, hands, and shoulders, and two what looked like wings on her back. Most people would have screamed in terror, but Aemma sobbed in relief. She did it. This babe lived. 

She called for Viserys and only Viserys to come to her chambers immediately, and the king was stunned at the sight of his wife cradling a small hybrid baby. Both were happy at the sight of the confused baby. Then they grieved over the body of their deceased boy. It seemed they were to only have girls. 

That day it was declared that the queen had birthed a true Targaryen child. Blood of the dragon, and fire made flesh. Some nobles were frightened at the sight of the baby, but had been made to kneel at the sight of Daemon and his dragon. Rhaenyra cooed over her baby sister, and held her close when they had the ceremony to burn her baby brother. Her long silver hair was the source of much joy to the baby. 

YN first of her name was considered to be the new heir by some, since she had proven to be a formidable dragon. Her wings began to grow wide as she grew with them. Rhaenyra was her closest confidant and was spoiled at each instance. When YN was 8 her wings grew large enough to carry her to flight, creating great fun with her uncle Daemon as they raced each other in the air. 

On the hunt of her tenth nameday, YN was enjoying the festivities with her older sister Rhaenyra and her friend Alicent. The young girl was ignorant to the flirting Rhaenyra was having with Ser Harwin Strong. She was also ignorant to the whispers of several nobles who were growing restless as to who the real heir was. If you ask Otto, it was YN she was young but strong and could be molded to a ruler. If you YN, it was Rhaenyra she was the oldest. But no one ever dared ask outloud. One noble didn’t seem to understand that. 

“My lady. I hope you are enjoying the festivities.” Some westerland lord asked, interrupting the girl as she was stalking a rabbit. 

“My day is fine. Now be quiet!” YN whispered. 

“Yes of course. I was just wondering something.” The girl hummed at his response. “Well.. since you might take on the throne one day, there is a rumor about your sister’s child.” 

That caused the hybrid to freeze. 

“Well, it is believed he is a bastard and my house would just like to know if you are willing to just let them run about with indecency and-” 

The Westerland lord was cut off by the princess slapping him hard. Her sharp nails scratched the meat of his cheek and brought him to the ground. He looked up to the image of the princess seething with rage. Her red scales glowing like fire, steam rose from her mouth and nostrils, and her wings fluttered in anger. The sight caused him to scream and run as she stomped back to the camp. Right to her father and mother’s tent. 

“YN, my beloved what is-”

“Rhaenyra was insulted. A lord deemed he was in charge of succession and I would pass her, then he went on to call my nephew a bastard. I want him punished.” YN crossed her scaled arms and demanded. 

The two monarchs were stunned to silence. An insult to one was an insult to all, their stunned silence did not please the princess who turned to her uncle as he walked into the tent. 

“Uncle Daemon, someone insulted Rhaenyra and I want them punished.” Her silver hair reflected her red angry scales. Her uncle could never refuse her. 

“Show me his face, princess, and I’ll bring them to the king for justice.” He smiled. YN turned back to her parents, and with a tired nod from her father she and Daemon left the tent to find the traitor. 

You do not deny the Dragon her justice. Aemma was desperate for a baby, and she got a dragon in response.