#daemon targaryen x alys rivers

[venusbyline]

Haunted ࿐ྂ Kinktober. 28, oct.

(late post)

— pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Rivers!reader x Alys Rivers

— type: smut, dark, Kinktober (House of the Dragon Edition)

— kink: breast fucking

— summary: In fact, Harrenhal was driving Daemon insane and seemed to be so fucking haunted, because as soon as he woke up, there was no trace that what the three of you did during the night had actually happened.

— word count: 1.4k

— tags/warnings: kinktober 28th day, female!reader, Alys Rivers's younger sister!reader, dark!Alys Rivers, dark!reader, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, breast fucking, rape/non-con (but becomes dubcon later), breast worship, non-con somnophilia, threesome (female/female/male), Rivers Incest (older sister/younger sister), large breasts, forced orgasm, cum eating, cum shot, curse words, oral sex (male receiving), vaginal fingering, rough kiss, overstimulation, hallucinations, ambiguous/open ending, cheating, mind manipulation, age gap (older man/younger woman/older woman), implied breastfeeding kink, mommy issues, erotic dreams/nightmares, implied Targcest (mother/son), open to interpretation, bisexual!reader, bisexual!Alys, Rivers sisters are witches, haunted castle, The Curse of Harrenhal, married Daemon Targaryen/Rhaenyra Targaryen, referenced Daemon Targaryen/Alyssa Targaryen, implied Mysaria/Rhaenyra Targaryen, Laena Velaryon mentioned, Alicent Hightower mentioned, sadism, switch!Daemon, dom!Alys, dom!reader, canon divergence, porn with plot. no use of y/n. english is not my first language.

— tagging list: @baybaybear1 @blessedbymoon @p45510n4f4shi0n @lina-lovebug @moonnicole @badger-reads @dearjardim

— crossposting: AO3

One of the things Daemon Targaryen loved most about women were their breasts. He was a great breasts lover, whether they were large, small or medium, different colors of nipples...

Although Daemon liked cunts, butts, thighs and hips too, nothing compared to his appreciation for breasts. He loved Laena's medium breasts, he had loved Rhaenyra's small breasts when she was young and then he also grew to loved how big they were after she was pregnant six times. And even though he hated to admit it, he actually enjoyed watching Alicent's tiny underdeveloped breasts covered by her pretty dresses when she was a teenager, before she married his older brother and became a fucking annoying bitch with each passing year of her adult life.

With his arrival at Harrenhal, it all seemed too much. Maybe it was the conversations with the weird healer, Alys Rivers, but he was feeling... Tempted. He was constantly having dreams and nightmares, involving Rhaenyra, Laena and even his mother, who he could not even meet because she passed away when he was just a little baby. His mind was tormented by strange and troubled thoughts, peculiar desires. Daemon was never known for being the most loyal partner in the world, but he did never even considered cheating on Rhaenyra during the recent years.

However, staying at Harrenhal was destroying what little sanity that he still had. When it was not the nightmares and macabre visions in the wreckage of the castle or Alys Rivers talking cryptically to him, it was you trying to seduce him. He did not know almost anything about you. From the few rumors he heard in those days, you must be some daughter of Alys Rivers or more likely her younger sister. Either way, you were probably a bastard of House Strong too. He did not care much about your constant glances in his direction, or how you seemed to devour him with your hungry eyes. Daemon had more important things to do than care about a little girl who was turned on about him.

Well... At least he thought that way until he woke up from a nightmare. Another terrible nightmare. Another erotic dream with his mother, Alyssa Targaryen. He did not even know her, but his mind was making him think about her all the time during the dream. The full and pretty lips, the pointed nose, the extremely beautiful and sensual violet eyes, the delightful body and milky skin, the curves of the hips, the stretch marks on the stomach, the large breasts... Damn, those damn breasts. What kind of curse could that stupid castle be poisoning him, making Daemon dream he was being breastfeeding by his own mother? The woman he had never even met. It was so disgusting, and yet he could not help but groan in frustration when he woke up, realizing that there was no more milk on his lips. Alyssa was not truly called him her favorite son, she was not stroking his hair while he was being fed...

Daemon was about to stand up and take a deep breath, before his eyes widened as he felt his member being pressed. Or rather, crushed against two soft things.

"Seven Hells... What the fuck?" He moaned in confusion, opening eyes with his vision still blurred, despairing when he saw you smirking, rubbing his cock between your big breasts.

"Another nightmare?" You teased, your voice sounding more sensual than all the brothel whores he had fucked in the past. And the quantity was really high. "About your hot mommy?"

Daemon kept his eyes wide, stuttering like a pathetic little boy. He did not look like the almost fifty years old King Consort and exceptional warrior anymore, you had turned him into a confused mess, moans echoing as you pressed your own breasts harder, making his cock disappear in the middle. "S-Stop it! Stop it right now or I will rip your head off!"

His death threat was not real. Both of you knew that. He would not kill you. He did not even truly want you to stop. He needed more physical touch, he needed to have sex, to feel the warmth of a woman again, something Rhaenyra had been denying him since the labour of the stillborn Visenya and Lucerys' murder, as well as the death of his father, the usurpation of her Iron Throne caused by the Greens and her anger knowing that Daemon was the causer for the death of a little child. The innocent Jaehaerys, firstborn son of Helaena and Aegon.

Daemon knew he should understand her reasons. But he was also a man with high sexual desires, and given the chaos in their marriage, he was more than eager to cum.

Considering how sensitive and even sore his cock already was, Daemon pictured you had been taking advantage of his body for hours while he slept, raping him during his erotic nightmares. Now, he was sure you already knew what he was dreaming about and what he wanted and needed so much.

"Would you rather kill me or cum on my breasts and my face for the third time?" You asked mockingly and the man frowned, swallowing hard with embarrassment and some irritation when he finally noticed that your breasts were already covered with his cum and your face had a few drops of it too. You were making the most of the situation.

Instead of answering you, Daemon swallowed hard again and pushed his hips higher, starting to help you to fuck your breasts, your tongue touching the head of his cock and making him moan and growl, desperate for a distraction and eager to cum as many times as possible his body could handle it. "Y-You are going to pay for this..." He groaned, squirming when you placed your hands on your breasts and tightening them harder. "O-Oh, fuck. You fucking bastard whore... Rhaenyra will want to kill us when she finds out about this." Daemon threw his head back, body trembling while he released his seed with a guttural moan, painting your face with those white drops again.

Daemon heard you chuckle and saw you run your fingers over your cheeks, licking the cum and smirking at him, who was still panting and with a look mixed with anger, lust and hesitation. He wanted so badly to strangle you or fuck you until your breasts became even bigger and heavier after the bastard children that he would insist on placing inside your womb.

"I have my doubts that your wife will care about your incestuous dreams or your extramarital affairs here in Harrenhal. She is too busy wanting to fuck your ex-lover. Mysaria, I guess." The sudden appearance of Alys Rivers and her words left Daemon stunned. He wanted to tell her to fuck off and that she was just lying for fun, but he fell silent when she started tearing off her nightgown, her body with beautiful breasts approached the two of you as she crouched next to you on the bed, crushing and scratching the soft flesh of your chest with her long nails, giving you an intense kiss, both of your mouths hungry for each other, blood dripping from the bites. Daemon's eyes remained focused and wide at the sight, just as his cock became hard again. "I guess Daemon can handle a few more orgasms before he goes completely insane, right, little sister?" Alys Rivers teased and you nodded with a giggle, giving her one last kiss before the two of you smirked at each other, watching as Daemon closed his eyes so he could try to control himself as you began to pump his cock, already so creamy with his own seed, ached and sensitive. Alys took advantage of the fact that your hands being busy and she put Daemon's big and thick member inside her mouth, one hand caressing his balls carefully and the other hand fingering deeply and roughly her sister's tight little cunt.

In fact, Harrenhal was driving Daemon insane and seemed to be so fucking haunted, because as soon as he woke up, there was no trace that what the three of you did during the night had actually happened. Every day staying inside was like being on the brink of complete madness. He never knew what was real or a hallucination. All he knew was that during the following afternoon, he saw you and Alys sharing mocking giggles at the sight of him looking very scared and confused, walking around the castle.

HOTD Edition - Masterlist

Criminal Minds Edition - Masterlist

Venusbyline's Kinktober 2024 - Masterlist

[wintywriter]

Just think about au where young Daemon escapes his own wedding, gets drunk and… finds himself in Harrenhal kneeling before a mysterious witch. The war is avoided btw

P. S. This art was done for me by Vaela Royce 💖

[lady-phasma]

If I can't put my brain rot on Tumblr then where else does it belong?

I can't stop thinking about Daemon x Alys because of that damn trailer. Krystin Ritter is my faceclaim for Alys even though I know Gayle will be great, but until we have more scenes or anything this is literally rotting my brain. Daelys is happening and I can't stop it. I may not post any fics for them yet but my brain is writing some witchy Harrenhal shit.

If this is Alys... sorry not sorry for the smut factory I will become.

[wholoveseggs]

[urdeftonesgrrrl]

me when people call Aemond a coward for fleeing a 3v1 when Rhaenyra was too scared to go against Aemond in a 1v1:

[helaemondcore]

Daemon & Aemond parallels

[ophelieverse]

This is the first time that i send in a request,but I’ve been your fan for quite a while now🥰🥰I love your blog and your content,especially your writing,so can I please ask you to write something about Daemon x niece!reader where she is the daughter of Aemma and Viserys and he’s obsessed with her?It can be whatever you want!Thank you so much!🫶🏻

⋆ ˚｡⋆little bird

Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

-Summary:Daemon is in Harrenhal and he’s tormented by the memories of the only woman that he had ever loved:his niece,the long gone princess Y/n.

-Warnings:death of character,incest,age gap,Daemon never married Laena,reader has valyrian features,reader died of childbirth,reader is mother of twin girls(you can decide if Baela and Rhaena),mental torture(?)sexual thoughts,Daemon being himself,Alys tormenting Daemon and him losing his mind.

•-aww thank you so much for your words and support,also thank you for requesting and let me know what you guys think,sending love🩷🫶🏻

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The palate is a treacherous bastard,a vile traitor.The palate,the tongue,the teeth,the throat:damned monsters,damned stabs in the shoulders.

They rebelled and tortured Daemon intimately,as well as the strawled murmurs of soaking whispers in the dark and lonely castle,as well as the murmurs of that nameless woman.Everything bothered him,in that world built by the blood-stained hands of false and courteous murderers,and the raw truths of the tormented men were no exception.

After all,he should have known - and he knew it, he knew it and he had not stopped,he had become crazy! -that once he tasted the most precious wine of the Seven Kingdoms his mouth would detest any other drink.His primordial instinct and his spirit of survival had tried to warn him,to make him understand,to make him glimpse the inexorable fate in which there would be a before and there would of course be an after.

Because any other flavor would never have been as sweet as the taste of her.

And nothing more would have been the same, nothing would make sense anymore.Daemon had only really understood it after kissing her:it had become impossible to even look at another woman.

He could still remember the first time that he had kissed her,before going to win the war in the Narrow Sea in her father’s name.He had only kissed her once and it had been like savoring the mouth of a fucking divine gift that fell down from heaven,kissing a promise of grace and eternal damnation.An inexperienced,sweet,innocent mouth.

His,Y/n was all his.

She was still a girl at the time,two years younger than her older sister Rhaenyra,just a naive girl that stug with two skinny legs and without even a woman's shape,the silver-haired doll,the trained King's Landing little bird that squeakes and chirps in the shade of her father's words and actions:Y/n, stupid and spoiled princess,daughter of the Long Summer,had let herself be kissed by him and had not stopped him,she had not pushed him away.

Crazy him and crazy her.Or maybe just him, or maybe just her.Who went crazy first,who did? Who had it been?Daemom didn't remember the fucking way those damn events that had folded him in two,disintegrated his entire soul.Killed him not once but a hundred,a thousand,a thousand and again a thousand times.

Who went crazy first?Who?Daemon has started to believe it was him.

It’s been years since the last time he had kissed Y/n,years since he last touched her warm skin,looked into her bright lilac eyes,that he had saw her with their daughters in her arms.

Yet,that night,in the dark and anguish halls of Harrenhal,his little bird had shown up to him.The ghost of Y/n imagine had suddenly appeared in a corridor in the west wing yard like an evanescent appearance,like his worst nightmare and had resumed chirping the same nauseating and tormenting phrases she cunningly gave to all her lords,to all her knights.

She had chirped her thanks,the beautiful words she used to tear from the verses of her beloved romantic ballads,which she used to steal from the fairy tales narrated with placid fervor from the endless rows of her old and decrepit Septas.

She had chirped and chirped and chirped.

Daemon hadn't listened to any of her melancholic sentences and hadn't even paid the slightest attention to her,nothing at all.So the deities and that witch then must have decided to punish him and mock him.They had taken their revenge on all his blasphemies and on all the lives he had snatched with joy.

The pale light of the moon had begun to inflame Y/n long silver braids,braids knotted in a bushy tangle,shaped into circles of blood rays that made her hairstyle look like the one of a small child.The young and innocent girl she once was before Daemon had touched her.A stupid hairstyle that she persided - with a pout - to make her maidens intertwine just like her mother did when she was just a small child.

The red dress that wrapped perfectly around her body,the one that she had wore at the tourney for her last Name Day as a maiden,seemed made of pure liquid blood.Daemon was lost.The red had become fire,it had turned into copper,it had melted into wine.A crown of thorns and autumn leaves in the cold wind of the godswood.

Y/n rosy mouth had stretched out in a brief,false smile,yet what was really false about her?And her elusive purple eyes had reminded him of reality.

The reality where she no longer existed,the one where now he was married to his older sister.He just wants to use her.Everyone uses everyone.He remind himself,he could never love her,not in the way he still loves Y/n.

Suddenly Daemon had realized the existence of his foolish thoughts,he had awakened by the torpor in which her sweet and familiar scent had induced him,and he had understood that he was behaving like a little child that had just woken up from a bed dream,an inexperienced young boy,he looked at her hair,looked at her ephelids,and didn't focus on those small stall tits and her flat,tight belly,and then he thought he had to fix it,that he had to prove to himself that he was a man.

Not the silly man who secretly watched the tears entangled in the eyelashes of a little girl who still slept with the dolls,squeezed in his little embrace,but the real man who fucked women in brothels and got rid of all his most itchy desires. Not the man who trembled in front of a little girl's gaze,but the man who fucked the women quickly and impatiently,without even looking them in the face,fulfilling his needs and his morbid needs.

The man that Daemon was before devoting his life,heart and soul to Y/n.

These thoughts had clouded his soaky mind with vulgar images,they had made his body drunk and frenny.Then he had stretched out towards Y/n, almost staggering,and had devoured her face. Mouth to mouth,he had eaten her lies and her breath.Was it really her,the spectral and little figure that had hunted him since he had step in Harrenhal?Was it really her,the cold and young body he was holding in his arms?He didn’t cared,he needed to feel what he once called love.

His little girl still tasted good,just like he remembered,something sweet,extremely pure. Snow and honey together,what an absurd madness of the senses.Y/n had closed her mouth,her lips soft and eyelids tight,but she had done nothing else.She hadn't disappeared from his touch just like the night before,his rough hands that had begun to mess up her hair and squeeze her thin throat like they used to.

They had kept both eyes closed and he had thought that she was beautiful even in the dark of the dull and worn lights,even in the black of the lowered eyelashes,under the Sun or under the Moon.

Y/n was still as beautiful as the day he had lost her.

And now that she was there,real or not,Daemon had kissed her with a disturbing need and Y/n mouth had moved on his without opening,without granting him anything more.Nothing more of what he already had when she was flourishing with life.

In that moment a cold wind had crept all over his back,until it even caressed his neck and wet cheeks.When did he started crying?Too late he had realized that it had not been a cold wind that had appeased his burns.

«Y/n,my Y/n.»Daemon had murmured«My little bird of the summer,my frightened little bird.»he kept talking on her lips.

«Uncle.»even her voice sounded like she was still that young girl he used to watch run to him,blushing when he would bring her a gift from one of the cities he had visited.

She had caressed his pained face and kissed him like a little girl who can't even imagine that there is anything else after a kiss on the lips.Like a sweet child that still dreamed and hoped for a bright and long future ahead of her.

Maybe at that moment Daemon must have said her name again,because the figure in his arms smiled«Y/n,my little girl,Y/n.»like a prayer.

«Do you still desire me,uncle?Do you still think about me?»her voice,a soft whisper,that cut into his heart.

How naive and stupid,stupid little woman.

He could have turned her like a worn sock,lifted her skirt and possessed it in any dark corner of the castle,stretched her on the floor and forced her to open her legs for him.For him,only for him. First the knees,then the thighs,until he devour her with his hands and tongue,until he fuck her all.

That little creature who didn't even know the thoughts that animated the minds of the men around her,the minds of all animal men just like him.He could have done anything to her,anything unimaginable and unpronounceable,and continued to devour her for whole hours,years and centurie, millennia and other millennia,to the point of satisfying her every repressed need and even more.

And Daemon did it,fulfilling his duties as a husband that resulted in the living love that took form in their twin daughters and son.

He enjoyed her,eat her,mark her at every possible point.He could have done anything for her even now.But Y/n had placed a hand on his heart and more snow had fallen into his chest,appeasing his every pain,every craving.

«Or is my sister crown that you lust over now?»Y/n sharp tongue managed to open another cut in his chest.

Yes,he wanted Rhaenyra crown but it was her he wanted to make his Queen.It’s always been like that,in his deepest dreams,to rule by her side,to pass the throne to their son and be with her forever to the end of his days.

«It’s always ever been you and i’m sorry that this has costed your life.»Daemon words were half stuck in his throat.

Stupid little girl,stupid.She was too good for him.She was pathetically pure.She will never be able to survive in this world,she would become food donated to dogs and worms.Another dead flesh left danging on the spades of this rotten and corrupt castle from the slimy foundation.Another head detached from one's body and turned into a trophy to show to enemies.

Another life that he had ruined.

The images of these elucubrations of his had scared him so much was he afraid?Was the burning in the pupils and ribs fear of seeing her dead or desire to kill or even a fever to possess her?To push her away from his arms,from his belly outstretched towards her.

Daemon had already lost Y/n once,in their old shared chambers of the Red Keep,drenched in sweat and blood.Screaming in fear and pain,just like her mother,as she gave birth to their son.A life for a life,the child survived and the mother died without being able to meet each other.

And now she was there,after so many years,Daemon had only glimpsed at her wet lips and red cheeks,then started yelling at her to leave.It wasn’t real,nothing of this was,his wife,his Y/n was dead,ashes in the wind.

«Go away.Get away right away or you'll regret it.I'll make you regret it,I swear to you.I'll make you regret anything you've ever done or thought if you don't leave now.Go away!»Daemon was screaming like a mad man,but his words were not directed towards Y/n.

His crude and harsh words were echoed only for the silent witch that lived in that old and empty castle.

He must have insulted her,or he had cursed the bastard witch back.He didn’t cared because now Y/n had escaped from his head and eyes with every new sip of wine that he took once he walked back into the dark halls.

Her ethereal figure disappeared at each red bottom of a cup he had swallowed in an attempt to forget the circles of her damn braids.A new cup of wine at every turn of the silver locks and then a hysterical laugh every moment he saw the lilac eyes of that damn girl in the accusatory ones of the witch who sat next to him.

«You are rather unrequited tonight,your grace.What’s bothering you?»Alys Rivers was her name and her voice was as enchanting as her looks.

A punch against the table at every drop of watered down flavor,at every cup of all those lousy drinks that she had given him to help him sleep.A mediocre taste that made him miss better flavors - the taste of him.

Almost as she could read his mind«In love?You?»Alys sound surprised.

And a thud in the heart as every second passes,at the stroke of the hours,at the slow formation of a nebulous wall of chaos inside him.Honey,snow,sweet salt of tears never shed. What was happening to him?What was going on in his head,in his sternum,between his legs?Had Alys poisoned him?

«Y/n.»she spoke again«The little girl that you used to bounce on your knees,the woman that died to give you an heir.»she taunted him,the ghost of a smile on her lips.

Daemon felt his heart shatter in his chest,pain at every breath.His hands burning like the rest of his body,the wine down his throat ready to choke him with all his guilt.

«Where is she?»he asked then,turning to look at the woman next to him.

Where is Y/n?

He had screamed at her out in the gardens and she was gone,she had flown away.

«Where is she?Tell me.Tell me where she is!»the cups on the wooden table crushed on the floor,the cold stones now painted of red wine.

«Where is Y/n?»Alys asked calmly,not even getting up from her chair as his grace thrown everything around«The little girl is far away.But she’s not unreachable,you will see her again soon.»she answered him.

Daemon had was spinning,he felt the nausea coming up from his stomach.He tried to walk and a gag forced him to kneel on the ground,to throw his head against the floor.

«Y/n,my little bird,Y/n.Y/n where are you?»he choked out.

She was there,he had seen her just a few moments before and the other previous nights that he had spent in Harrenhal.He held her,kissed her and it felt so real.She didn't run away,she didn't cry,she didn't even lower her head.Nothing,nothing of nothing.She just looked at him for a second and then she left.

Now she was gone,again.She was gone,Y/n,was gone and Daemon wanted her back,like he had always wanted her,he couldn’t breathe,Y/n come back to him.

Come back,stupid little girl,come back here right away.One moment,he needed to touch her,to kiss her,to have her,just another moment to share with her.His little girl,his little bird.His,his,his,she had always been his.Come back,he needed to hold her and protect her.He would protect her from anyone,even himself if she was so afraid.He was scared too.

«Your grace?»Alys voice was distant,loosing itself in the air.

Daemon crawled on the wet floor,getting up«The little bird.I have to find,I have to find...»the world became dark and dyed of red.There was laughter around his body and someone sneering his name.

«I have to find...»he repeated.

He had to look for her.He hadn't been able to resist her,he hadn't slept even a minute.He had walked around the castle like a mad man,reaching his chambers only to find her inside.

The room looked like the one they lived in the Red Keep,warm and familiar.A small figure appeared,wearing a old white nightgown drenched in blood,pale hair wild on her head in the same that she had died in.

Y/n was there,holding to her chest a child wrapped into a blue blanket like a present.Their son,the joyful and smart boy that looked exactly like his mother and that she had never even seen before closing her eyes forever.She was sitting and crying .He had felt like he was dying and had taken a few uncertain steps.His eyes had moved frantically and they had glimpsed the blood-stained sheets,the stained dress on her thighs, the hands holding the child.

As soon as Y/n had seen him,with shiny eyes, huge tears on that small face she had brought her red fingers on her lips,as if to ask him to be silent as she rocked her baby.The smell of iron had never disgusted him,never shaken him,not until that moment.The little girl's legs had continued to drip and form spots on slippery spots on the floor.

«You always wanted a son.»Y/n voice was paralyzing«I should have know that this would have been my end.You can never surrender to your desires.»she didn’t looked at him,calmly holding the cloth in her arms but he knew she was accusing him of the same sin his brother had committed.

He had never hated blood with such despair,never hesitated before his duties,never thought of spitting acid on his oldest loyalty«I should have…i should have saved you.»he breathed.

Y/n smiled softly«No,this is the price you have to pay for taking what isn’t yours.The throne,the crown…me.»her empty eyes burned his flesh«You will die here,uncle,and you will loose everything.»she warned him.

Daemon vomited until he almost fainted,almost suffocated in his own vomit.Tears mixed with the pain and guilt on his face and his arms suddenly gave in.He felt hands on his neck and lips near his ear.He hit his head against the floor again and rocky voices pronounced his name more times.

He tried to crawl but threw up again,and then again and again.He couldn't stop anymore.He tried to grab a the chair next to door,but the world began swirling to turn and he lost himself in meaningless images.Before closing his eyes Daemon only saw pale silver birds with broken necks and torn wings.

[starogeorgina]

𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐚𝐥 𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐝

Parings: Alys Rivers x reader, Daemyra x reader

Warnings: Smut, swearing, choking, incest, slight dubcon (under the influence of magic)

You had yet to decide if being forced to travel to Harrenhal alone in the name of your brother and king, Aegon, to persuade the river lords to fight for him was the best or worst thing to happen to you during the war. You arrived days before Daemon did, but you had barely spoken to anyone; you had been far too trapped in your own mind to rally an army.

“Good girl, just like that.”

Alys’s praise causes the throbbing between your legs to worsen. If the rumors were to be believed, Alys Rivers was a witch, and you weren’t sure if you believed she was anything other than a temptress. From the moment your dragon landed at Harrenhal, you sensed something shifting—a charge in the air. You arrived during the hour of the owl, and Ser Simon Strong had been a gracious hoist and honest about not bending the knee to Aegon from the beginning. He also warned you to stay away from Alys.

She starts rutting against your face while you suck on her clit. “Are you going to do everything I say, precious?”

Unable to answer verbally, you nod.

“Good. I know that tongue of yours can be used for more than just a witty comeback, so I expect you to use it on the silver-haired queen.”

You nod again.

Alys looks down at you with a smirk on her face; she thrives welding such power over a dragon. She strokes your hair and says, “You’ll take the king consort's seed and seduce the queen. Pleasure her as you do me.”

Perhaps Alys was a witch; it was the only logical reason why you would agree to such a thing.

Alys squeezes your breast, causing you to press your thighs together. She moans, “I want you to moan for them. Let them hear the sweet sounds of you coming undone.”

You finally remove your mouth from her cunny. “What do I do after?”

“When they are done fucking you, you come and find me.” She smiles down at you, her hand delicately resting above your forehead. “But first, you will finish pleasuring me, and then I shall return the favor until the time is right.”

—

“She’s been too busy burying her head between the witch's thighs to raise an army.”

Daemon wasn’t wrong; you were preoccupied with Alys when Rhaenyra arrived at Harrenhal. The army her husband had gathered bent the knee to her, and the couple had reunited. You raise your brows, challenging him, “Jealous?”

His lips twitch as he fights back the urge to lash back, but the look on Rhaenyra's face prevents him from saying anything further. She had you brought to their bedchamber to speak in privacy. “Last we spoke, you mentioned your mother was pushing to find you a match; did you make one?”

“I refused every man she put before me.”

The line of questioning had nothing to do with the war being waged. Perhaps the witch was messing with everyone's minds.

“Why?” She asks sternly.

“Mirre se vali sia nākostōbā.” (All the men were weak.)

She smirks, “You want to marry someone who shares the blood of the dragon.”

“No, I don’t want to marry them. I just want their seed.” You chuckle, “Don’t look so surprised, sister; we both know the men we choose to marry don’t need to father whatever children we bear. I don’t see an issue with wanting to keep our bloodline pure.”

Rhaenyra and Daemon share a look. They silently exchange words, and when Rhaenyra nods her husband's strut over to you, he takes your chin in his hand. “The queen is not only generous; she is merciful. She will spare your life and will allow me to fill you with my seed, but only if you swear to fight for her.”

“I swear.”

“Sȳz riña.” (Good girl)

Rhaenyra traces her hand along the curve of your ass. “The child and any dragon they bond with will only fight for me.”

“Yes.”

Daemon comes up behind you and rubs your breasts through your dress. When he feels your nipples become hard, he pinches them. His lips brush against your ear. “Say yes, my queen.”

“Yes, my queen.”

He chuckled cruelly, “such a wanton princess.

“A spoilt princess,” Rhaenyra adds. “Strip for us.”

Quickly, you take off your dress and stand naked in front of them. The thought of being touched by them both excited and terrified you.

Rhaenyra looks you up and down with a wicked smile on her face. “Lay on your back and open your legs.”

Following her command, you get onto the bed and lay on your back. The blue sheets beneath you are soft against your skin. Heat rushes to your cheeks when you spread your legs open and expose yourself to both of them.

Rhaenyra tuts seeing how wet you are. “And I suppose I’ll need to make sure you’re ready to take the king's cock,” her tone mocking, yet she slides her nails across the soft flesh of your thigh, then slides a finger into your wet cunny with ease. “She is tight.”

“Oh,” Daemon taps his cock against your mouth. As soon as your lips parted, Daemon shoved himself into your mouth. “You are indeed a merciful queen.”

Rhaenyra removed her own clothing; the curves of her body are a beautiful sight to see. She stands between your legs and leans down. She flicks her tongue over your clit a few times, but when you moan, she stops. “You are enjoying this far too much. This is a privilege you should be working harder for.”

Like an obedient worker in a pillow house, you take him deeper into your mouth. Daemon groans, feeling the vibrations of you gagging on his cock. He wipes the saliva pooling from your mouth and spreads it across your breasts. “You enjoy being used; perhaps we will bring you back to Dragonstone to be the queen's whore. Would you like that?”

You nod while choking on him.

“She’s so wet.” Rhaenyra kneels between your thighs, and her tongue dips in between your folds.

Daemon pulls his cock from your mouth and watches as his wife scissors two fingers inside your cunt and sucks on your clit, stretching you out for him. From the skilled way Rhaenyra fucks you with her finger and mouth, you know this isn’t the first time she’s touched a woman.

Coming undone, you arch your back and coat her fingers with your juices.

Rhaenyra and Daemon switch places, and while he slides the head of his cock between your folds, you take Rhaenyra's breast into your mouth and suck greedily.

Daemon mumbles something in High Valyrian, then roughly pushes into you, stretching your cunt on his cock.

Feeling your body tense, Rhaenyra glides her hand over your stomach and, using two fingers, starts rubbing your clit. “You are taking him well. Is this your first time being bedded by a man?”

You let go of her breast to answer her, “Yes.”

Daemon lightly slaps your thigh.

“Yes, my queen.”

Smirking Daemon says, “The princess is learning quickly.”

Alys voice echoes inside your head, telling you to please Rhaenyra just as you did her. “My queen, please, let me pleasure you with my mouth.”

Her free hand is suddenly around your neck, and Rhaenyra squeezes hard to make you squirm without completely cutting off your air supply. Her lips graze against yours. “Do you think you deserve to taste me?”

“No, my queen, I don't. But I do wish to make you feel good.”

Rhaenyra smashes her lips against yours, then abruptly pulls away. Daemon speeds up his thrusts while Rhaenyra gets onto the bed and straddles your face. Alys has taught you how to fuck a woman with your tongue and fingers, and it doesn’t take Rhaenyra long to start moaning your name.

Her screams of pleasure are silenced by Daemon when he captures his lips.

The sounds of them kissing are exhilarating. Your legs are gripped tightly and held open wider as Daemon’s thrusts become sloppy. It only takes a few more rubs at your clit for you to come undone again, but your moans are muffled by Rhaenyra’s cunt. The vibrations of your moans tip her over the edge; she squeezes your breast harshly while riding her high against your face.

Daemon fingers dig into your hips. He grunts, spilling his seed inside you.

Rhaenyra gets off you and tenderly kisses your neck; her skin is shinny with sweat, and her head is disheveled. She looks beautiful. “What are you thinking about, princess?”

“That Harrenhal is cursed.”

Confused by your answer, she rests her head against your shoulder while Daemon caresses your leg with one hand and strokes his half-erect cock with the other. The king consort was far from done with you.

Somewhere in the distance, you hear Alys giggling. Taking Daemon’s seed was only the beginning of her plan.

[slaughter-kin]

just realized i have not made one of these since season 2 has aired

[shihoerusu]

Tarot cards

~House of the Dragon~

[earlseyebrows]

Daemon seeing young rhaenyra stitching up jaehaerys had me so fucking terrified

cant wait to see aemond in ep 4.

[hotdaemondtargaryen]

PHIA SABAN INTERVIEWED BY ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY.

SO MUCH HAPPENED IN THE FINALE, AND HELAENA WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF SO MUCH OF IT. WHAT WAS YOUR REACTION WHEN YOU FOUND OUT HOW MUCH INFLUENCE HELAENA WAS GOING TO HAVE IN THIS EPISODE?

"When I read the episode, I was so excited to be involved in that trippy dream sequence."

"I was hoping that I was going to arise from a lake of goo or something, or fly."

"But I was also really happy to stand there and talk."

"That was really exciting because we did that all in a green screen stage, just me and Matt, so it was really cool."

"I watched the last episode last night, and it was really cool to see all of that come to life."

"I was very pleased to be involved in that."

"My other thought was if she feels this kind of clarity in that scene that she has with Aemond, and that isn't historically how she's felt about her power and everything."

I needed to work backwards from there and try and work out what journey she has been on, for that moment to be so clear, when usually she's a bit more like, "Oh, there's a beast somewhere."

WHAT CONVERSATIONS DID YOU HAVE WITH SHOWRUNNER RYAN CONDAL ABOUT HELAENA'S EXPANDED ROLE AND HOW SHE'S GOTTEN TO THIS POINT IN THE FINALE? BECAUSE SO MUCH OF HER JOURNEY HAS BEEN INTERNAL.

"Actually, Ryan and [writer] Sara [Hess] and the writers, they very much left it to me as to how Helaena feels, how she connects to that side of it, and how it manifests for her, but it's an interesting one."

"The line between what I know and what she knows, I try and keep quite close together, so it's not always so helpful for me to have this really overarching idea of how exactly she plays in and what magic it is."

"Because I think every time when that happens to her, it feels like the first time."

"So I know as much as she does, in a way, but they were very keen for me to interpret it however I want."

"Then I think they're just going to weave it into the story in their magical way."

TELL ME ABOUT YOUR PROCESS IN WORKING BACKWARDS FROM THAT CONFRONTATION WITH AEMOND. HOW DID YOU GET INTO HELAENA'S MINDSET?

"How I describe it is she has this amazingly strong intuition, and things come to her as gut feelings in flashes, but they're not always clear."

"She can't always turn them into advice."

"It's more of like a feeling that takes her over."

"That's where some of those really abstract things that she mutters earlier on comes from, but she also thinks of herself and knows of herself that she's quite a strange girl."

"There's a way in which her family lets her go and be her strangeness in her room and do all of her Helaena things."

But also she partially thinks, "Maybe if I didn't have these weird feelings or this strange intuition or this really intense experience that I have, then I could be a bit closer to people around me, or I could communicate better or it would be less strange."

"Part of her represses that stuff."

"Then I think with the trauma that happened to her in episode 1, essentially the worst possible thing happened, and there's a certain amount of dissociation and almost like a letting go of that, like trying her best to be the same as everyone else."

She has disassociated from the family reality, and maybe she has stepped in a little bit more to the other place, and she has more access because she's gone, "I can't abandon myself as well, so what is this?"

"She's given it the attention and the intensity it needed."

SINCE HELAENA BEING A DRAGON DREAMER ISN'T IN THE BOOK, WHAT DO YOU THINK OF HOW YOU'RE GETTING TO CHART NEW TERRITORY FOR THE CHARACTER?

"It's really fun."

"I know that people feel so passionately and lovingly towards the original story, but I think that me, as a fan of things, I love a certain level of loyalty."

"Then I love the idea that I can be surprised or something could be subverted."

"It more flatters the audience's intelligence when you get to surprise them and subvert things, so I like the idea that people didn't see that coming for Helaena."

"Obviously, I can't watch the show as an impartial person."

I WOULD BE VERY IMPRESSED IF YOU COULD.

"[Laughs] I'd be like a psychopath, yeah."

WHAT'S IT LIKE BEING THE BRAN OF THIS SHOW?

"The thing is that I really have absolutely no idea what's happening next season."

"I think that moment in episode 8 is an example of how clear and how powerful she can be, but I don't think that's the beginning of now she can just communicate like that."

"I wouldn't be surprised if she walks away from Aemond, [mimes shaking her head and shoulders and blows out a breath], and she goes inside and goes to her room and that doesn't happen again for a long time."

"So who knows, but it would be really cool if I got to spend more time in that vision dream world."

"I would love that."

"There's that moment when Daemon's going over to the tree, and then there's a guy with a deer head or something."

"I think Helaena should hang out with him."

THEY SHOULD GO OFF TOGETHER HAVE THEIR OWN SIDE ADVENTURES. NEW SPINOFF IDEA.

"Yeah, exactly."

"That's what I want for the next season."

DOES THIS REVELATION THAT HELAENA IS ACTUALLY A DRAGON DREAMER MAKE YOU RETHINK YOUR CHARACTER AT ALL?

"Yeah, I think it's fun because it's essentially development, which is what you always hope for when you play someone."

"I just really hope that there's momentum from this, that we see her change more and more and keep on being surprising."

WHAT WAS IT LIKE FILMING THAT SCENE WITH MATT WHERE HELAENA KNOCKS DAEMON DOWN A PEG AND REALLY HUMBLES HIM IN THE FINALE?

"It was fun."

We were there on the green screen going like, 'What the hell is this going to look like?'

"But it's great to do work with the people from the other team because at this point the relationships are so bad that you're really only going to get Helaena and Daemon together in a vision."

"They're probably not going to be having lunch together anytime soon."

"[Laughs] I'd love to go and hang out with Harry Collett and Bethany Antonia and Phoebe Campbell next time."

"I'd like to go and hang out with Alys Rivers [Gayle Rankin], all the people that live in different castles."

"Maybe I could meet them in dreams."

"That would be really good."

"It'd be like ... did you ever play Club Penguin?"

[LAUGHS] I HAVE!

"It could be Club Penguin."

It's like, "Meet me here at 3 p.m. by the igloo."

That'd be so fun if Helaena could just be like, "Let's go and hang out in dreams. Go and touch the tree, and I'll be there."

NO ONE HAS EVER LISTENED TO HELAENA UNTIL DAEMON REALLY TAKES HER WORDS TO HEART AND CHANGES HIS ENTIRE COURSE. DOES HELAENA FULLY APPRECIATE OR EVEN KNOW THE PART SHE'S PLAYING IN THIS WAR NOW?

"No, I don't think so."

It's all so intense for her and so immediate that I don't think she even is always like, "I have this overarching understanding of the story."

"I think it comes to her in moments."

"Maybe it muddies the water more, but I feel like that whole dream stuff is up for interpretation as well from the audience."

"How much is she a projection of his guilt, or how much did he just need to hear that from someone?"

"It's this magical realm, so anything could be possible."

"Maybe that's something that she could say in a moment, and then she's gone from there again, and it's just like she was just being channeled through."

"Who knows? Maybe we'll find out more."

I think to her it's just, 'This is my really intense experience of being alive,' and that's enough self-analysis for anyone in that moment.

It's like, "What am I going through?"

"And then there's this clarity."

"She's got a lot to process this season."

"Bless her."

WHAT WAS IT LIKE FILMING THE SCENE WHERE HELAENA STANDS UP TO AEMOND AND REVEALS SHE KNOWS THE TRUTH ABOUT WHAT HE DID? THAT'S ONE OF THOSE RARE MOMENTS OF CLARITY FOR HER.

It's really fun to work with Ewan — yet again, I'm answering the question in an annoying way because I'm like, "I just like working with those people!"

"[Laughs] That was really cool."

"God, this is really the first time... it's the most eye-contact she's ever made in both seasons."

And she's really going like, "Don't fuck with me."

Basically, "Because I have this knowledge that's on a higher realm and I cannot and will not go and kill people for male ego and toxicity."

That's the other funny thing with this family: Yes, he's the Prince Regent or whatever, and her husband/brother is the King.

But actually to each other it's like, "You're my brother and you can push me and you can push me, but I know you."

"That is more about a sibling dynamic."

"Actually, I think that Aemond ironically is one of the people that Helaena feels she can communicate with a little bit better."

"They have this sort of affinity."

"It's just fun to play with those dynamics because she doesn't have a lot of long chats with anyone, so it's fun for me."

YEAH, THE LONGEST CHAT SHE'S HAD UNTIL NOW HAS BEEN WITH HER BUGS.

"Exactly, and they don't really answer back."

"This is very new and very overwhelming."

HELAENA DOESN'T WANT TO RIDE HER DRAGON INTO BATTLE, BUT DO YOU? HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT MISSING OUT ON THE BIG DRAGON BATTLES SO FAR?

"Yeah! It's House of the Dragon, and I've got a dragon, and I haven't got on it."

"I'm rusty."

"I really wanted to get on the dragon."

"I went and watched a few people on the buck this season, and I was so jealous."

"I'd really love to get on the dragon, or at least have a scene with Dreamfyre."

"Dreamfyre, like Vhagar, she's super ancient and big and cool."

"I'd like to see Helaena and Dreamfyre having a sort of spiritual connection, but I'm not complaining."

"I'm just happy to be here."

[wintywriter]

Or a simple au where Daemon finds that his witch has pretty warm hands, Rhaena — how to brew a good potion, and Baela — what exactly lies beyond the Narrow Sea. Alys, btw, is learning to fly.

Ps. The dance was prevented from the very beginning as a result of all of this lol

[damn-stark]

Chapter 25 Loss Of My Life

Chapter 25 of Moonlight

A/N- 💔🖤

Warning- Swearing, talks of pregnancy and blood, ANGST, some fluff? Violence, death, and SPOILERS!! FOR FUTURE EVENTS OF HOTD, USING FIRE AND BLOOD, long chapter.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode/Pages- 469-490

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

How long can bliss last when it’s being poisoned by the knowledge of a dooming death?

Night soon turns to morning and you have yet to utter the reason why you came after Aemond. Then again even if the sun is miraculously out in the rainy slums of the Riverlands, for you it’s like the sun's light never rose and replaced the dark night. For you, the world is dull and dark as all that occupies your mind is the thought of his looming death.

Or so that’s what Helaena said.

You try to deny it. All night you tried to be in denial and think that she was wrong, but you know better. You know she’s never been wrong about a dream she’s foretold, so why would this one be any different? And it’s not like she’s deceitful to try and play it off that way. She’s right and no matter how many alternatives you try to think of, there’s no way around it.

Except if you leave and are never found again. It would hurt those you love to leave without a word or a trace, but if it saves Aemond from his doom then you can’t be against it. You aren’t…

Is he?

But are you really not against it? Leaving your mother behind? Vanessa? Your cousins, and…him too? Everything you have ever known?

One thing is dreaming of leaving. One thing is thinking about it without actually attempting to do it, and actually planning to leave is another thing. Are you really able to do it?

You think about the answer as you watch how the stream moves downriver. You’re meant to catch fish for lunch later, but so far you’re empty-handed and simply full of thoughts until the moment Aemond’s reflection appears on the water and pulls you from the depths of your unraveled mind.

“Should I still hold faith in your skill?” He says lightheartedly as he notices the lack of fish, making you stand up from your crouched position and flash him a very faint smile. You try to respond with something witty, but at that moment you’re so plagued by your poisonous thoughts that you can’t muster the energy to do so. You just lose your smile and look down at the ground as you fiddle with your sapphire ring.

Aemond takes note of your lack of response right away and can no longer ignore how quiet and melancholy you’ve been all morning.

“What’s wrong?” Aemond finally picks on your silence and long dragging frown.

You stop fiddling with your ring but keep your eyes downcasted, stealing a breath before you finally share what’s been plaguing you. You can’t avoid it anymore or it will destroy you from the inside out.

“Aemond…I came to find you because,” you pause and take another breath as if what you’re going to say is the most taxing thing ever. “Helaena told me…that you are going…to,” you stop and lightly shake your head as you can’t accept what you’re about to share out loud.

However, you do, you say it but with every word hurting every part of you. “…Die in fourteen days.”

Not a single breath of shock escapes past Aemond’s lips. He doesn’t utter a word of disbelief, or move to express any single emotion. He stays where he is and remains as still as he was, making you believe that he somehow didn’t hear you or that he’s just speechless, so you slowly trail your eyes up to read him, but you don’t catch what you expect. His lips are parted but when your eyes find his, he closes his mouth and looks at you with his eyes simply caught under a mist.

Nothing of what you just revealed seemed to have fazed him so you slowly work around that confusion and begin to assume that he already knew.

It looks like he does and you only just found out his secret. That’s how you read his face.

“You…”

“I knew,” Aemond finishes for you since can barely voice your response. “Helaena told me the night you found out about your father leaving.”

You’re hit with shock. Instead of Aemond, you are the one hit with disbelief that causes your eyebrows to knit together, and your lip to form into a deeper and more displeased frown.

“But,” Aemond interjects to try and immediately console you. “It’s not true. I am not going to die in fourteen days or at all during this war,” he says but lacks confidence, you can hear the attempt to sound so, but you can’t feel it oozing off him or displayed on his long face.

“She was wrong. You can’t trust the words of a mad woman, and Helaena has never been sane,” he adds but nothing of what he says works to comfort your aching soul or running mind—“I am going to outlive her prophecy.”

“Story,” you mutter under your breath and step forward with a spike in energy and take his hands to hold them within your hold before you drag your hands up his arms, and then slowly slide them up to his face as if taking your time to take note of the smallest details.

“We can leave,” you share a plan that you mindlessly have no more doubts about. You say the words to him and you know that you can in fact leave it all behind for him. You found your answer in his eye.

“Together,” you continue with a nervous smile as you stroke his face. “I need only fly to King's Landing to get Aerion, but after that we can take our dragons and escape to Yi-Ti, to somewhere far, somewhere beautiful where we can raise our children. Where we can have the rest of our family and not worry about any feuds between our families. We could build a keep of our own by the sea so we can teach our children to fish, where we need not worry about a thing. Where we only have to think about our love and our children. Our family.”

You nod softly in hopes that he will mirror your actions and escape away with you, but no matter how intently he listens and holds your glistening eyes, he doesn’t utter a word or even let his head twitch. Thus you continue.

“Our children wouldn't have to have anything stolen from them like things were taken from us. They wouldn’t have to yearn for what they deserve. They wouldn’t have to be bullied or be sent away. They would grow happy and have everything we didn’t. We,” you press breathlessly and put more force on the hold you have on his cheeks. “We would be happy. We would be together until the rest of our days.”

Aemond holds your gaze with nothing to say with neither his words nor his eyes. He looks at you with a soft and admiring gaze that lets him press his forehead against yours and makes you believe that he will finally give in to your proposal.

Alas as that relief and happiness start to spark and attempt to take down your agony and cure you of that poison, when he pulls back he looks at you with a confidence he couldn’t muster before. Thus that cure, that relief, and that joy die out just as quickly as they started to grow, making you desperate and causing those tears in your eyes to grow a lot thicker than before.

“Please,” you beg and stroke his cheeks again. “Please Aemond.” You cry.

Aemond tilts his head as he swallows back thickly and you read his refusal to accept your proposal, causing you to peel away from him and step back with a gasp.

“Trust me,” he finally gives voice to the thoughts that have been running behind his eye. “My love, trust that I will win. That I will live. You hold so much blind faith in the words of mad witches and women that you fail to see the reality. Vhagar is strong. Vhagar is powerful. Vhagar will kill Caraxes and Daemon. We will win this war and give our children that same happy life that you want them to have in Yi-Ti, here. I will not die.”

You want to believe him. You want to believe every word that just came out of his mouth. You want to believe Helaena is wrong, but you would be oh so stupid to do so. And you can’t be stupid, not when it comes to your sanity because if you let yourself believe what he wants you to believe the reality will destroy you. There’s already little left of you, you can’t handle more pain. Not like that. Not again.

“You believe that?” Your voice quivers.

Aemond stays quiet for a second before he nods stiffly. “I know it,” he deadpans.

You blink repeatedly as tears crawl out of your eyes and nod before you step back and throw out a response he isn’t expecting. “If that’s what you believe then so be it, but I will not stay and watch you fight because I know the truth. You are going to die if you don’t leave and I for one won’t be around to watch it.” You throw out with tears crawling down your cheeks before you turn swiftly in an attempt to storm away, however, Aemond is quick and captures your arm to turn you and face him.

He’s about to say something to counter what you just said but you pull your arm from his grasp and continue voicing your emotion-filled argument. “No. No! You don’t know what it’s like watching someone die in your arms. You,” your breath trembles. “You don’t know what it’s like hearing someone take their last breath. You don’t know what it's like to feel helpless as you hold the dying body of someone you love. You don’t—you don’t. You don’t know!” You exclaim and shove him back with force brought by your grief and frustration.

“But I do, I lived it. I live it every day in my dreams. Jacaerys dies again and again every day in my dreams. My father does too. Every night. I watch them die in my arms every night and every night I’m reminded that I couldn't do anything to save them. To save Jace,” you mewl and wipe away the stream of tears off the curve of your cheeks. “I won’t have you haunting my dreams too. Grieving you every day of my life will be enough pain already. I won’t put myself through more just because you have a death wish.”

Aemond draws in a deep shaky breath and brings his chin up to look down at you with a glossy eye and pain.

“You’ll leave then?” He mutters to the bitter air. “Back to her? You’ll leave me again for her?”

You let out a shaky sigh and grow softer this time. “It’s because I love you that I’m leaving,” you remind him of something he should know, but something that he himself isn't sure of after he heard your speech. It’s like your lack of belief in him pierced his heart. It aches.

“It’s because I love you so much that I have to go,” you continue to say. “I love you Aemond. Everyone I know says I shouldn’t, everyone I know says you’re bad for me, but to me, that’s all nonsense because I love you. I am in love with you and no one can ever replace you, but it’s because I love you so deeply that I can’t watch you die.”

Tears continue to run down your face, as well as down Aemond’s face. You both look at each other with such a deep and harrowing heartache that only people who love each other could ever express.

“If that’s what you believe then,” he says in a shaky voice. “You must know…no, you must remember that you are the love of my life. I will never and I have never loved anyone as much as I have loved you.” He nods gently, and you stand there before him and just cry as you take in his words—“the truth is you are the only person in this world that I love. You are my weakness and strength. My heart belongs to you and only you. So go if that’s what you want. I won’t stop you. I won’t fight you. Not anymore.”

You ignore the screaming pain and nod since you can’t form a single syllable before you turn and walk away, with every step you take not being able to stop weeping.

You clutch onto your chest in hopes that will ease the pain, but you can’t breathe. You can’t see anything but the cloudy field that your teary eyes leave.

Nothing makes sense and everything hurts. It hurts so much, so deeply that you can’t think or feel. You’re numb as you walk further and further away defiantly, but, with every step that defiance to leave faltering until it completely breaks and you find yourself at a stop before you can reach your dragon.

Albeit before you can turn and return to Aemond, you let thoughts cross your mind and every single one of them tells you to get on your dragon and return home or join the Northern and Rivermen army, but your heart, oh, your feeble heart takes you back to Aemond, and you find him as he’s heading back to the hut.

“Swear,” you cry out. “Swear that you will fight with your life. Swear that you will live and I won’t leave you ever again. I will follow you anywhere and everywhere. Just swear.”

Aemond looks deep into your eyes and feels baffled at first, but when he sees that you’re being sincere he responds with what you’re seeking. “I swear.”

You take a deep breath and nod stiffly. “Okay,” you mutter.

——

Minutes turn to hours. Hours to days and days turn to two weeks.

Two weeks of always trudging along with the memory of Helaena’s words of the future, of the fate that awaits Aemond, the infamous love of your life.

He says such a fate is impossible, be assured he keeps saying. Believe in me he says over and over again, and as much as you want to, as much as you want to look at this foretold future in the face and deny its cruel tellings, if you let yourself believe then you will be crushed. You’ve known it before and you know it now.

It’s like a stain you can never remove. It’s always there in your peripheral vision, annoying and coming to your attention every time you forget about it.

“What happens after? After you kill Daemon?” You query slowly as if speaking as such will grant you more time.

Aemond looks away from your intertwined hands and briefly meets your eyes. “We join Daeron. With Cole dead there’s nowhere to go but to my brother.”

That’s if Daeron is still alive. The two dragonriders went to stop him and two old dragons with more experience than Tessarion should be enough to have taken Daeron down. Yet you don’t have a way to know in the middle of the forest.

“I’m sad Ser Gwayne had to die too,” you comment and earn Aemond’s immediate attention—“he was nice and good to be around.”

Aemond huffs and you smile faintly at the water surrounding your naked bodies.

“But seriously now, what of Aegon,” you continue to wonder. “There’s been no word of him so my guess is he’s still alive. Besides, the worst ones always have good luck don’t they?”

Aemond starts caressing your knuckles and sighs deeply before he sits up straight in the tub and looks at you smugly. “What is a cockless man worth to a building legacy? To a kingdom? He’s worthless now. If he’s found I’ll make him pass the crown to me. I have an heir, he doesn’t. I have the ability to have more children to continue our legacy. He doesn’t. I’m worth more than him, he’ll be…thrown aside.”

Well he is right about that, a king needs his heir and by their terms, he doesn't have them nor can he have them anymore, so he’s not much use to anyone, but would he give up the crown so easily?

Doubtful but he is gone so who knows?

“I suppose you’re right,” you interject to not answer him with silence.

Aemond hums in return and lets his head loll to the side as he now takes his time to study your face carrying a permanent sorrow, as if your eyes have already seen the tragedy you have to suffer tomorrow.

“Once we meet with Daeron I suppose we would stay where he is until the twins are born. They’re almost here,” he says and makes you pick your eyes off the water to pass him a faint smile.

“What is it?” He doesn’t hesitate to pick up on your sadness that’s a lot more prominent today. Just a day before Helaena says he’s going to die.

“Just worried,” you share even though he knows because he’s heard it multiple times already and he can see it so clearly on your face.

“It’s misplaced,” he brings up quickly as if the words were recited. “I told you I won’t die soon. Not against Daemon. Not during this war.”

Your eyes soften as your grief threatens to bring tears to your eyes, but you refuse to cry so you just look at him with a saddened look that pulls his body to you so he can sit in between your legs and lay his head back on your chest.

“I’ll be okay,” he says softly.

You hold his gaze to seek for more reassurance, to clutch onto some sort of bliss to ease your aching chest, but as you look deep into his blue eye all you get in return is more agony. It’s such a burning thing. So heavy on your chest. So plaguing.

Why is it that Aemond tends to make you so sad? Is this what love brings? Is this what it has to offer? A lifetime of sadness? Is loving someone supposed to hurt so much?

Staying in the hut, counting down the days to the foretold day has made you open your eyes to this nonstop sadness he keeps cursing you with and it’s truly disheartening, like cold water to the naked body. It makes you wish at times that perhaps you should have stayed true to your screaming desires and left when he said he would continue fighting despite being told he would die. You should have saved yourself the pain, but you stayed like a love-sick idiot.

You stayed and stay despite your troubles, insisting on sticking by him, and following him away from the hut on dragonback because like a fool you make yourself believe those words he kept repeating over and over again in your ear.

There’s not even hints of realization penetrating your mind that his doom can be only a hairsbreadth away when Aemond is proven right in believing Daemon would be at Harrenhal, the jewel of the Riverlands. You believe the promises Aemond made you because you refuse to think Helaena is right even though you spot the Red dragon Caraxes resting by the blackened castle the moment you fly above it, casting large darkened shadows with your dragons that give a short false sense of belief that the grey cloudy day was shunned and taken over by the night.

You believe Aemond is right with the fragments that remain of your heart. You believe him even through the sorrow he’s made you feel because that’s what he asks of you. You believe because no matter what, you love him. And it’s because you love him that you grab his biceps with force and plead one more time before Daemon can meet you and Aemond in the field.

“There’s still time, Aemond. We can mount our dragons and leave. We don’t even have to go far, we can fly to Daeron. Just choose before he comes.”

Aemond slides his arms away from your grasp to be able to cup your cheeks and pull in closer to you. “Your head is still in the clouds dreaming. Just like when we were young,” he speaks softly, but with no sign that he heard a word you said—“I’m not running. Not from Daemon. Not from this fight. The climax of this war is finally at hand, I will not cower now when my victory is near. Can’t you feel it?”

A pit grows in your stomach and a mist already covers your eyes, but you don’t dare believe anything else but what he says.

“Now come on,” he adds as he pulls away and leads the way away from the dragons, revealing your presence to not only Daemon but Alys too. She trails behind him with her eyes stuck on you.

“Nuncle I hear you have been seeking us,” Aemond breaks the silence first, but can’t break through that tension building up as Daemon gets closer and closer with no hint of fear, disbelief, or hesitation. He looks as he always does, smug, but probably even more so now that Aemond is right across from him.

“Only you,” Daemon retorts but then his eyes find you. “I can’t say I’m surprised, Princess. I can’t imagine your mother's heartache though.”

You swallow back nervously and cast your eyes down to the ground out of shame.

“Who told you where to find me?” Daemon then continues to direct at Aemond. “The princess?”

“Where else would you be?” Aemond remarks sassily. “Besides, I was told to come here by my sister.”

You slowly bring your eyes back up and glance at Aemond before you look back at Daemon, catching Alys stopping a few paces away from where he stops.

“You were a fool to come alone,” Aemond continues to throw at Daemon and puffs his chest out with a boost of confidence. “Or are you going to let witches fight your battles now?”

Daemon steals a glimpse at Alys and shakes his head before he meets Aemond's gaze. “No, she’s merely a friend who told me you’d come meet me here. She was right, and I’m right in knowing that you wouldn’t have come if I wasn’t alone.”

Aemond scoffs and flashes him a smirk. “Yet you are, and here I am. You have lived too long, Nuncle.”

Daemon nods stiffly. “On that much we agree,” he deadpans before he starts to turn around, only stopping to look at you before he can give you and Aemond his back.

“Do right by your mother, if not just don’t bother returning home,” he gives it to you bluntly without hesitation or remorse. Rather he sounds concerned and looks it too before he gives you his back and starts to make his way to his dragon.

However, before he can get too far, you interject. “Daemon.”

Said man comes to a halt in his tracks and lifts his head but doesn’t look back, letting you know he’s paying attention regardless.

“Is there anything you want me to tell Baela or Rhaena? Or my mother?” You ask not because you’re certain he’ll die but just in case he does.

Albeit he doesn’t pass you any messages. He simply shakes his head and speaks up in High Valyrian about another matter. “<Be the great fire that you’re meant to be. I know you can.>”

Your lips part in surprise and you’re left behind completely taken aback by what he chose to say. It’s true that your last interaction was kind, there was no resentment from you. You actually…became acquainted, but despite that, hearing him be kind is still surprising. It makes you think that perhaps if you hadn’t been so adamant about hating him you would have enjoyed having him as a stepfather.

Maybe in another life…

In this one, once he’s put some distance between him and you, you turn to Aemond with a shaky breath and see him walking to you with Blackfyre in hand.

“I want you to take care of it while I’m fighting Daemon,” he shares and hands you the sheathed sword.

“Why?” You probe as you look at it before meeting his gaze with confusion, seeing him look at the other sword around his hip; the one you had done for him a while ago with the Valyrian steel chain your grandmother had gifted you.

“I have this one. I prefer this one,” he says and looks back at you, making you hum softly with a flustered smile spreading on your lips.

Yet that smile soon thereafter falters, and a tense frown replaces it as you’re overfilled with worry as the time to fight Daemon is upon him.

“You swore,” you whisper shakily and he drops his head as he closes the gap between you to gently place his hand on your cheek. “Aemond,” you call out for his reassurance. “You swore.”

He nods softly before letting his eye find your gaze, feeling at that exact moment his eye softening and his pupil dilating. You both want to say so much, you want to speak so many I love you’s, but what are words compared to your love-filled gazes already speaking a thousand words that otherwise would have gone unheard?

“Do you believe in me?” He asks and with those words asking for your confession that he already knows but needs to hear for reassurance, and you…whatever doubt you had, whatever fear you have been carrying since you heard his fate, is nonexistent at this very moment. You believe him wholeheartedly.

“I believe in you,” you reassure him and drop the sword to throw your arms around his neck and clash your lips against his.

Aemond quickly secures his grasp on your cheeks and deepens that kiss. He savors the sweet taste, making it easy for you to linger in the moment, in the passionate gesture, and take more and more from him in hopes that would convince him to stay.

Alas, his mind is made and after a while, when you both need to breathe he parts, leaving only a string of saliva connecting the two of you.

“I love you,” you say breathlessly and a smile flickers on his lips.

���<I love you too,>” he redirects in High Valyrian and continues to look deep into your eyes as if trying to memorize every detail. All while you do the same with him to delay the inevitable.

If only you could stop him, but…reality comes knocking as he pulls away, stealing one last moment before he turns away from you and goes toward Vhagar, leaving you stranded where you stand unable to do anything but watch him reach his old dragon and scale her.

Once Aemond has mounted her he looks down at you from his saddle and flashes you a confident smirk, causing you to pass him a sweet smile in return and let it linger until he looks ahead and you’re no longer reflected in his eye.

Yet it’s only once Vhagar has taken to the skies that you pick up Blackfyre and turn to Alys.

“I know where we can watch the fight,” she says first as you can’t find any words to say, not at that moment. You find your breath and the ability to form words, but you don’t actually share them because you’re going to ask how this fight is going to end and she will give you the answer one way or the other, and you don't want to know so you remain speechless and follow her to the highest tower Harrenhal has.

A tower so high it almost touches the clouds, the wind is sharp and bitter, the lake looks like a glimmering sheet, and the view of both dragon and Dragonriders is clear. So clear and so close in fact it’s like you’re almost on top of your own dragon and there with them in battle.

Yet the distinction is clear right away when the first attack is given by Caraxes as he barrels down on Vhagar and Aemond, sinking his sharp teeth in her neck, and you not being able to do anything to help. You forcefully stand there frozen in shock and your breath stolen as if you had been hit yourself when you see the force Caraxes uses to slam into Vhagar.

Thankfully, the dragons are the only ones harmed, filling the air with their sharp and pained shrieks, and exchanging gashes with their piercing claws. Despite not wearing armor, Aemond is still unharmed and secured on Vhagar, making you fully and blindly lean towards believing him and believing that what you heard was false. It’s just not so foolish now, is it? Even though Caraxes refuses to loosen his jaw around Vhagar’s neck, your spirits are high because Vhagar is bigger, fierce, and battle-hardened.

The she-dragon jabs her claws in Caraxes’ flesh, making the dragon breathe out fire in hopes of burning her enough to stop, but she mirrors his blast and their fires paint the sky like an unsettling fiery storm. All whilst not burning any rider, but letting you and Alys feel heat waves crashing over you again and again until Vhagar shrieks so loud and so full of pain that it almost feels like the stones that make the tower shake beneath your feet.

And since both dragons are barreling towards the God’s Eye, you press your hands on the stone railing and lean over to look down as they sink down faster, letting you catch the way Caraxes’ teeth sink deeper in Vhagar’s flesh, pulling out a stream of blood from every wound.

In retaliation, the green beast only sinks her claws deeper into Caraxes’ belly and this time manages to slash his belly open. She then chomps down on Caraxes’ shoulder and tears away his wing, filling you with an urgency to see Aemond act against Daemon, or attempt something to strike the man down. Albeit both dragons are falling too fast, and neither of them attempt or can get away from each other just enough to gain more momentum. They’re falling fast and taking their riders with them.

Or so that’s what it seemed like because from one moment to the next you catch a glint against Daemon’s shining armor as he moves. Yes, Daemon sits up and swings one foot over his saddle, all while unsheathing his sword from his hip.

You part your lips to warn Aemond, to tell him to try something to escape the man’s wrath, but all you can do is draw in a sharp and shaky breath. The horror that hits you leaves you mute and keeps your breath, hostage, as you watch Aemond release one of his restraints to attempt to move away as he catches what Daemon is going to do.

Alas even as Aemond is on his last restraint, his attempts are futile, Daemon jumps off his dying dragon nearing the lake at a great speed, and gravity pulls him down to Aemond’s own saddle at a quick speed, causing your eyes to widen with despair and terror. Yet not a single word or breath continues to come out of you. You remain frozen and hopeful. You believe.

You have to believe in some miracle because Aemond is strong. He is skillful. He is smart. He can fight Daemon’s wild actions. You believe and believe with all your might. With all of you.

However, no matter what, or how much you plead, you witness Daemon swing his arm back before he pierces Dark Sister through Aemond’s remaining eye so hard, and so fast that the point rams out the other side, striking your hope and riddling you with shock and horror. You try to cry out his name, but a blood-curdling cry leaves your gaping mouth. And when the dragons at last slam into the water, your soul and those remaining fragments of your heart shatter.

Alys reaches out for you, she grabs your shoulder and tries to turn you around as she calls your name so you can calm down. Not for you but for the babies, but you’re so shocked by the scene you were just a witness that your first instinct is to refuse to accept the facts. Thus you push her away and run.

You run down the flight of stairs with your blood pumping wildly in your veins, leaving you unable to hear anything but the rushing blood, and leaving you unable to see a thing but what is right directly in front of you.

You’re so driven by your refusal to accept what you saw that your way to the lake is a blur. All that occupies your mind is Aemond. Aemond. Aemond, and Aemond.

He’s going to be okay. He’s alive. He’s alive. He’ll be okay. He promised. He promised. He swore!

Please, please, please…

Your feet hit the water and you snap out of your stupor to search the blood-tainted waters for any sign of Aemond either trying to swim away or still clung to his saddle. You don’t bother to keep an eye out for Daemon, you forget about his existence as you slosh through the bloody water.

“Aemond!” You cry out. “Aemond!”

A hand clutches your shoulder so you snap around swiftly but you’re greeted with Alys’ green eyes.

“No,” you mutter as you recognize that it’s not who you’re looking for. “No.”

“Stop, you can’t go any deeper. Daemon,” she pauses and you catch tears brimming in her eyes. “And Aemond are dead,” she says to try and make you come to terms with the truth, but you’re ignorant to the truth and angry that she would dare and make such a horrible claim. “There was no surviving that strike. And there’s no surviving that fall. They’re gone. They’re dead. Now come on, it’s not good for you or for—”

“I don’t care!” You yell back and slap her hand off you. “I don’t care!”

You turn back around and continue to trudge through the water which becomes heavier and heavier to manage as you go in deeper.

“Aemond!” You cry out. “Aemond…please…” you trail off into a broken whisper and come to a stop as the water hits your chest.

“Aemond!” You call out and search the waters, every perimeter that you can see, but dragon remains are all that float on the surface.

Yet even then you cling onto hope and wait, wait, and wait some more in hopes he’ll descend from the bloody waters and come to you to prove that he fulfilled his promise to you so as to not leave you alone in this cruel world.

He can’t leave you alone. He’s going to…survive so you wait to avoid feeling the sea of pain you’re holding back.

Eventually, the water once boiling by the steam coming from the dragon's blood is cool, and your body starts to shiver since you are not immune to the cold like you are to the fire and the heat’s touch, but still, you wait and avoid the truth, believing Aemond will rise from the depths of the water.

Alys continues trying to pull you away but again you push away her attempts. It’s not until you’re forcefully turned around and facing…Addam that you start to return to reality.

“A-Addam?” You call out in disbelief and raise your hands wrinkled by the water to touch his face and prove to yourself that he is in fact here, holding you. “Addam, wh-what are you…”

“I will tell you later, you just need to get out of the water. You’re freezing and shivering.” He scolds you and starts pulling you. You move with him but then stop and look back at the gruesome scene sinking in the water.

“But…” you trail off as you slowly start to grasp onto truth. “Aemond,” you breathe out and start to gape like a fish out of water as the truth starts to seep through.

“Oh,” you gasp and flashes of Daemon piercing his sword in Aemond’s skull and killing him at that instant passes through your head, making the undeniable slap you in the face.

“No,” you quiver and let Addam go to turn and face the remains sinking in the water. “Aemond,” your voice trembles, and your chest clenches, it hurts. Your entire being hurts. It all hurts.

“No, no, no…” you trail off and lose balance, but luckily Addam catches you and pulls you up. When you meet his eyes that look at you with pity all those emotions that you were pushing back burst through all the barriers you put up and flood your system, filling you with agonizing pain that starts from your chest and spreads like waves all throughout, shattering everything you are, what little you held onto, and leaving nothing but a sad little husk of your body. That’s what it did, Aemond’s death left nothing but a shell that’s riddled with the memory of pain. And all you can do is cry out, filling the cold air with your heartbroken wail.

“Come on,” Addam tries to lure you out of the water. He grabs your arm to drag you out, but you fall limp and your knees hit the lake floor.

“I can’t. I can’t,” you repeat and shake your head. “No. He promised. He promised me. He has to come back.”

Addam looks at Alys but she couldn’t even break through your stupor so she lets Addam continue to help.

“He’s gone, okay?”

You weep at the sound of his words and he hisses as he realizes his mistake.

“He has to come back to me,” you cry. “He has to. He promised. I love him. I can’t leave him here alone.”

“I know, I know,” Addam mutters and grabs your face so you have no other option but to look him in the eyes. “I hear you, but listen, he’s gone. He’s not coming back. But you. You’re breathing and your babes, his babes, they need you alive. All of them. Would he want you to die here?”

You shake your head as your falling streams of tears add to the lake's body. “I love him,” you mumble. “Please.”

Addam frowns and takes a deep breath without adding anything because what is there to add that you haven’t heard?

Yet his silence still pierces like a thousand swords and you’re riddled with more agony. “It hurts,” you weep. “It hurts.”

Addam nods. “I know. I know, now come on. Let’s get inside please.”

You look out to the water one more time in hopes you’ll see a glimpse of Aemond, but once again, you’re met with nothing, so you’re left doing as Addam says.

——

*LATER*

There below your feet lays a material you easily sink into. It’s grainy and soft, but when you lower your head to identify what you stand on, there’s more of the same darkness that consumes the entire empty hall you solely occupy.

You try to strain your eyes. You squint to catch a glimpse of anything that might clue you into where you are, but it’s like you stand in a void. Yet it’s not a deafening void. You’re not surrounded by silence, in the shadows that surround you, you hear someone humming a song. You just can’t pinpoint who it is you hear, but you hear the humming coming from the end of the hall.

“Who’s there?” You ask the void and step forward, but the moment you do, you’re startled when you catch something from the corner of your right eye light on fire. Something grand that finally illuminates your side with light, and when you quickly snap your head in that direction, you come to an immediate halt when you see that it’s a body set ablaze. But who’s?

You can’t tell. You can’t identify who they are, just that it’s a body. And they’re not the only ones, five more bodies are set ablaze around you, blinding you instantly, but finally providing a bright light with their hot fires that consume away the darkness.

When your eyes adjust to the sudden brightness that broke in the hall, the first thing you catch is what you stand on. At long last your curiosity is fed when you see that you stand on ashes. What are the ashes in particular?

You don’t know, you won’t, and the truth is you don’t want to know. You happily leave that as a mystery to not strain your withered self and instead drift your attention to a bloody set of footprints staining the stone ground.

They seem to lead forward, so you try to follow them with your eyes, but as your eyes scale to the next set of footprints, suddenly those too are set ablaze and light a path that your eyes follow down the room, letting you finally figure out that you don’t stand in some desolate void. You finally lift your head with the intent to watch the blazing path and see that you’re standing in the middle of the Red Keep’s throne room, but that’s not all. At the foot of the stairs that lead to the Iron Throne sits an abandoned wooden throne.

No one before, and no one that you know has used a wooden throne. Not even your grandfather Viserys. There’s no need for it when the great throne is standing behind it in all its glory. Why is it there?

That’s a question you do want to feed an answer to, but alas, as you mindlessly walk down the blazing path guiding you ahead and setting the ends of your gown on fire, that wooden throne is also sustenance to the great fire. Its ravenous flames quickly swallow the wooden throne whole, making you stop in your tracks and look at it with more confusion. What does this all mean? Why are you here surrounded by fire?

You need to know, yet more questions infiltrate your mind when you catch that someone is sitting on the Iron Throne. You can see the soles of their bloody feet hanging down from the great throne. They’re the ones who are filling the hall with their humming. Can it be? Only one person comes to mind when you think of someone sitting on that throne.

“Mother?” You call out in the burning hall, and the humming at last comes to a stop.

You slowly scale your eyes up the throne to look at her in the eyes, but when your eyes land on the face of the person sitting on the throne, you gasp and stumble back when you see that…it’s you.

You’re sitting in that throne room with your blood-covered hands lazily hanging off the armrests and carrying something hidden in the shadows.

You sit there comfortably with a scowl on your blood-stained face. You sit there with your nose in the air, and your gleaming eyes reflecting the fires that surround the hall and stand between you on the floor and you on the throne. You sit there with a chainmail veil hanging off your head dripping blood on your cheeks, making it look like you’re crying blood. You sit there…it’s you that’s reflected in your eyes. And the person sitting on the throne at last acknowledges you standing baffled on the floor and begins to lift their bloody hand, pointing Aegon the Conqueror's blood-dripping crown at you.

You don’t tell yourself anything, you just menacingly point the blood-dripping crown at yourself, causing your breath to hitch and your widened eyes to stay focused on the crown.

There’s so much you could say, but there’s no words you can actually form and voice. You stand in stunned silence until you blink as your eyes go dry with how long you were staring without blinking, and you’re ripped away from the incredibly confusing scene and brought back to a firelit hall in Harrenhal, watching Blackfyre glimmer against the fire warming the hall.

Now you should go mad with confusion, you should be shocked and demanding to know what it is that happened, but alas you’re at Harrenhal, there’s only one explanation to what you just saw, so you at last lift your eyes off the sword and look the culprit right in their green eyes.

It was Alys. There’s no question about it. There’s no need for reassurance, she passes you a faint knowing smile, and with that gesture alone you know it was her that let you see that vision. As for why? She won’t say, no matter how much you ask. You have to figure out the meaning by yourself or wait for a version of that vision to come to life because it is coming. As to when well that will come to you soon enough.

“How are you liking the Riverlands, Addam?” You hear Alys probe.

“Well they're…wet,” he says lightheartedly with a small chuckle. “I have been here for fourteen days and I have never seen more rain in my life than I do here. How do you do it?”

“When you live here as long as I have, you grew to miss when it’s not raining,” Alys says back. “So is it safe to say you would not find a home here?”

Addam scoffs. “No, no. Perhaps visit once in a while, but no. I’d miss the sea, and the sun.”

Alys laughs softly and then adds something aimed to make you interject. “You and her are the same, just like cats, only prowling when the sun is out of hiding.”

You give no reaction, you don’t even acknowledge her or anything besides. If Addam and you weren't by the fireplace neither he nor Alys would be able to tell that you exist in the hall, you blend in with the silence and the stillness of the room as you remain too grief-stricken to speak or move a muscle. You just keep looking at the Valyrian sword that you hold against the floor as if it carries some kind of hope that you will be able to see the man you lost one more time.

“Here,” a whisper captures your attention but doesn’t make you move to look at it, you remain frozen until a bowl is placed above the handle you keep clutched—“It’s warm, and Alys says it’s your favorite stew of hers.”

You blink and look over at Addam now sitting beside you, his gaze not riddled with worry, but an attempt at reassurance with his eyes soft and only focused on you.

“Eat please,” he insists gently whilst he slides his hand down to wrap it around yours and give it a gentle squeeze. He doesn’t say anything, he just offers you a comforting smile before he pulls his hand away and remains in his new seat. You then take this stolen moment to really look at him and finally come back to that question he never answered before; why is he here?

“Addam, what are you doing here?” Your voice is hoarse as you finally find a reason to make yourself present.

Albeit he doesn’t answer right away, he looks at you and his lightheartedness fades but only for a flickering second because he then offers you the same assuring smile.

“How about I tell you tomorrow when you’ve rested okay?” He offers

You immediately shake your head and press him, finding the motivation to focus on something else besides your grief. “No, I’m leaving today. Tell me now.”

Addam’s face falls completely and he then shares a concerned look with Alys before he shifts in his seat and clears his throat, watching you scoop a spoonful of your food before he gives you what you asked for.

“Well…I’m here at Harrenhal because I heard the fight from the Isle of Faces, and when Seasmoke and I went to check we saw Caraxes and Vhagar…”

You swallow back thickly as you physically react to the name that reminds you of Aemond.

“…crashing in the lake. I didn’t know if Daemon was alive, he might have been and he might have needed my help, so I came and that’s when I saw you.” He shares but that only answers part of the question.

“Okay,” you drag out as you nod your head and take another bite of food, taking your time to chew and think about what he did give you before you swallow and follow up with more. “But what were you doing in the Riverlands in the first place? Why were you at the Isle of Faces? You’re meant to be home with the Queen. Are Ser Hugh and Ser Ulf back? Is Daeron dead?”

Addam blinks and glances down, shaking his head just slightly before he answers verbally. “No, and no…Ulf and Hugh never returned,” he pauses and he looks back at you with a slightly angry look, but mostly his face is contorted with distress. He then says your name and reveals what you didn’t know because you were with Aemond in a hut for fourteen days.

“Hugh and Ulf betrayed Queen Rhaenyra. They betrayed our side and instead aided Team Green in taking Tumbleton.”

You shake your head, but not because it’s unbelievable. You can’t be shocked over something that was expected. You’re just caught in disbelief because it happened and you weren’t there for your mother. It happened and you weren’t there to help her deal with that aftermath or a plan for a counterattack.

“The Queen was so struck by the news that she also suspected me of being a traitor,” he keeps sharing and this time the news is starting to sound unbelievable—“She sent guards to take me for questioning and arrest me, but Lord Corlys warned me just in time to escape,” he says with more of a droop of emotions in his voice. “That’s why I’m here in the Riverlands because I ran, but,” he presses with more stress and his eyes wide and desperate. “I did not scheme with them. I did not betray your mother or our side. I didn’t know what they had in mind. You have to believe me.”

You stare at him blankly for a moment, making him believe that you also believe he was in cahoots with the other two, but that’s far from the truth, that doesn’t cross your mind whatsoever. You’re just going through the disbelief in your mind about your mother succumbing to panic and pointing fingers so quickly when other times she would hang onto the hope that he wasn’t like the other two. You have to wonder what she thinks of you now, and what made her turn her back on Addam so easily.

Moreover, with what you know now a more urgent need to leave Harrenhal to do what you need to do grows within you.

“I believe you,” you assure Addam as you wrap your hand around his arm to give it a comforting squeeze, hearing him sigh with relief as he offers you a relieved smile.

“I know you wouldn’t do that. It’s unfortunate that we lost Vermithor and Silverwing though. Alys,” you drift your attention to her poking the fire. “Do you know the casualties?”

“The Rivermen and the Northnermen took a heavy loss. It was a bloody battle, your numbers were depleted when the two dragonriders turned their cloaks,” she shares without hesitation, making you tighten your grip around Addam’s arm out of concern that begins to gnaw at your chest—“That’s all I know.”

You have the need to ask about…Cregan. He barges into your mind, but if he were gone she would have told you, no?

He must be okay.

“That only means that Daeron and his army are closer to King's Landing, and with three dragons, victory is on their side,” you mutter with growing frustration.

“We need to join the Rivermen and the Northnermen,” Addam cuts in, catching you by surprise. You would assume he would pressure you to return home where you’re not exposed to high threats, but you heard him right, he said ‘we’.

“We need to rebuild the armies and counterattack before the Greens make a move on Kings Landing,” he finishes with confidence rising with each word.

“We do?” You press him and he then turns his head and meets your gaze with a hint of hesitation before he sits up and nods confidently.

“We do. The Green men advised me toward taking that path,” he shares, making you look over at Alys to ask for confirmation as if she was a part of that conversation, but she just shrugs and turns away with her hair swiftly turning with her.

“They,” Addam pauses and when you return your attention to him his eyes dig deep in your soul with a sense of fascination. “…they put my hand against a Heart Tree and that’s where I saw you as clear as day bathing in fire without getting hurt. You were a part of its power. You were the fire that brought destruction to Tumbleton.”

You blink repeatedly in disbelief but don’t dare question him or his vision. You are going to ask about the Green men, but not now. Right now you are going to back his decision.

“Good. I wasn’t going to return home either, I need to make it right for my mother,” you say as you hold his gaze with the same fiery determination that now inflames your kindred souls. “We leave today.”

Addam reacts with hesitation this time and pulls back to question you. “Are you sure? I'm sure the army won’t move with the losses they took. We can meet up with them tomorrow morning.”

You shake your head and turn around to face the fire and continue eating. “No, we leave today. I don’t want to stay here longer than I have to.”

Not because of Alys. You wish you could spend more time with her, but alas there’s things you have to do and now this place will forever be a reminder of the loss of your life. Aemond will haunt you here, and you can’t just sit and think about how he was ripped away from you or you’ll cease to exist. That’s why you’re leaving today. That’s why you need to join Cregan today…at long last you will at last reunite.

The mere thought revives something within you. Something you thought was lost.

.

.

.

.

.

A/N- 👀

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut @snh96 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @nifujiswhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @kaetastic @lightdragonrayne @squidscottjeans @oh-you-mean-me @wallacewillow0773638 @icefrye19 @thescottpack @fiction-fanfic-reader @crazymusicgirl104 @r-3dlips @strangersunghoon @just-pure-trash @ethereal-athalia @missyviolet123 @callsignwidow @xunquish-blog @tabathastan @weepingfashionwritingplaid @answer-the-sirens @silverlightsaber

[wholoveseggs]

Phantom Desires

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Daemon Targaryen X Reader} Harrenhal is tormenting Daemon, blurring the lines between what is reality and what is a dream. The damp, cold castle is driving him mad—until he meets you. You smell like summer, feel like a dream, and your lips taste like honey. If only you weren't a ghost.

♡♡ I was super inspired by Daemons bad time at Harrenhal and I decided he needs more trauma ~xoxo ♡♡

5.3k words - Warnings: smuttt, ghost!reader, oral sex {m! & f! receiving}, Harrenhal lore, spooky shit, fiery death, Daemon is losing his mild, ghost sex, Alys Rivers being Alys Rivers {I love her}, horrifying as it is horny ...

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

{Daemon Targaryen Tag-List}

@elijahstwink @starshipcookie @absolutemarveltrash @odairtrqsh @darkened-writer @cheneyq @fallout-girl219

My love, please… 

Daemon was woken by a voice calling him softly from across the room. It sounds like the breeze through the curtains, but when he opened his eyes, all was quiet.

He loathed this place, the damp made his bones ache and in every dark corridor he felt as if he was being watched. He could hardly sleep a full night in the cursed castle.

My love, come with me…

This time when Daemon's eyes snapped open, he could see a figure at the end of his bed, silhouetted against the moonlight that shone through the open window. He reached for his dagger, but stopped when the figure stepped into the light and disappeared.

"Fucking hell." Daemon cursed, rubbing his eyes with his palms. Maybe the damp really was making him lose his mind. He couldn't even trust his own eyes anymore.

He laid back down and closed his eyes again, pulling the furs around his body tighter. Sleep. He told himself. Go. To. Fucking. Sleep...

You stood there, watching him sleep from the foot of his bed. He was a handsome man, his blonde hair was tousled against the dark furs of his bed, the moon casting silver across his features.

You crept closer, kneeling down on the edge of the bed, your hands smoothing the sheets. You longed to touch him, to feel his warmth, to feel his hands upon you.

My king…

You whispered, tears stinging your eyes. He would never hear you, no one could hear you. You watched him stir a little, his eyelashes fluttering, his face frowning in his sleep.

Please, I'm begging you. I don't want to burn. Don't let me burn…

Daemon's eyes snapped open. He was sure he had heard something. There it was again. Crying. Someone was crying.

He needed some air, this place was starting to make him paranoid. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, pulled on his breeches and a jerkin before grabbing a torch and stepping into the hall.

The castle was quiet, his footsteps echoing along the empty halls. He wasn't a fool, believing in tales of ghosts and the like. But this place... he had seen things he couldn't explain.

Maybe it was the stress of the war. Of the guilt he was trying so hard to ignore. All the lives lost because of his actions. The lives of people he loved.

A sob cut through the silence, pulling Daemon back from his dark thoughts.

Don't burn me alive…

A voice, soft and pleading, echoed from the end of the corridor. It had to be a hallucination brought on by lack of sleep and the damp.

Please…

There it was again. Daemon turned on his heel, following the sobs until he found himself outside a small door. A woman's voice came through the wooden frame, crying, sobbing, pleading.

His hand went to the doorknob, he was shaking, terrified. What was happening to him? He had become so unmoored that he had lost his grip on reality? He knew the only way to get it back was to confront it head on.

When he pushed open the door, he saw you, standing in the dark corner of the room, your arms wrapped around yourself as you sobbed.

For a moment he just wanted to turn around and leave. He didn't have the capacity to console a crying woman right now. But then, he couldn't stop staring at you.

You turned, looking straight at him. Daemon felt a jolt in his stomach. Your eyes, they were beautiful. They seemed to glow with their own light.

"Are... Are you alright?" He asked you, cautiously, looking around the room for someone else. There was no one.

You wiped your tears, the reason you had been crying had already slipped your mind. The moment you saw the man before you, his blonde hair shining like the moon and his eyes, they were so piercing, like he could see right through you.

"I'm sorry, I must have gotten lost." You said, taking a step towards him.

He looked you up and down, his face twisted with confusion. You were dressed in finery, soft silks and velvets, the kind of thing a noble would wear. But this room, it was bare, cold and damp, not fit for a mouse let alone a woman of your beauty.

"I'm afraid I must have missed your introduction." He replied, giving you a curious look.

You smiled softly, it was the first time in so many years you had a visitor. He was handsome, strong, everything a man should be. You knew what he was, a Targaryen. A dragonrider. Born with fire in his veins.

You reached your hand out, and his eyes darted to it. He hesitated before taking it, half expecting his hand to pass right through you, but instead your fingers were warm, solid.

"I'm sorry for intruding, my lady. I thought this room was empty."

Your heart was pounding, the blood rushing to your ears. His touch, it felt like fire, power and there was an odd void to it. Like death rode beside him.

"It's alright." You whisper, not wanting him to let go.

"Are you a ghost?" He asked, his hand sliding up your arm, as if testing you, checking to see if you were real.

You laughed, how silly, "A ghost? No."

Daemon let out a shaky breath, "Thank the gods."

"Do you want something warm to drink? It can get so cold here," You asked, you wanted him to feel welcome, to calm the fire in his veins.

He seemed hesitant at first, but then he nodded, a small smile forming on his lips.

He followed you down the dark halls, keeping his torch aloft to light your way. The flames illuminating the damp, cold walls and the dust that floated through the air.

"You know, it wasn't always like this." You said softly, as you walked through the narrow passageways, your fingers running along the cold wet stone. "It was once a beautiful place, warm, welcoming."

He glanced around at the rotting floors and the moss growing along the stonework. He couldn't imagine it.

"My understanding is that it was always a cursed place, even before Aegon's arrival," he stated as the two of you entered the kitchens.

It was just as cold as the rest of the castle, but there was a fire going, and a basin full of fresh water. He lit the torches around the room and you began pulling out ingredients and preparing the tea.

Daemon leaned against the table, watching you work. You didn't look like you belonged in this place, you were too clean, too soft. Yet you behaved like you owned everything you touched.

"They say that before Harrenhal was built, it was a vast forest of heart trees," You said, focusing on putting some herbs and root vegetables into the pot over the fire, "That the trees themselves were Gods, and their roots are still underneath the stones, waiting to reclaim what is theirs."

"Sounds like a lot of nonsense," Daemon replied bitterly, his skepticism evident. 

"Yes," You agreed with a small smile, "But old stories often have a grain of truth to them."

He didn't understand why he was so drawn to you, why he sat and took the warm cup of tea that you handed him, or why he asked you to sit down next to him. He wasn't in the business of trusting people, but you... it felt like he had known you his whole life.

"The witch that resides here, Alys, said something similar," he added, remembering how she spun a tale about how this place was cursed. 

Your eyes darkened and your lips set in a line.

"Do not trust her," You tell him, your voice firm, "She sees things that are not there and hides secrets that are not her own."

He laughed and shook his head. "And what makes you so certain?"

You shrugged, "I see things too," you replied nervously, twiddling your fingers on your mug.

Daemon took a sip of his tea, an amused smile on his face and his eyebrows raised, "Is that so? Well, what do you see about me?"

You looked at him, your eyes studying every inch of his face, his hair, the scars along his neck. "You wish for things you don't really want," You whisper, "You seek violence, but deep down, you only want peace."

Daemon's face darkened, his jaw clenched and his hands tightened around his mug.

"Peace is for the weak," He replied harshly, his voice low, threatening, "Only the strong survive, and take what they want."

He looked so sad, so lonely. You wanted to reach out and comfort him, but you were scared. There was a rage in him, and a desperation that seemed to engulf him.

"I didn't mean to offend." You apologize, lowering your gaze.

You didn't look at him, your fingers running around the rim of your mug, until you felt him move closer to you.

"You didn't." He answered you, his voice softer, "Tell me more, about yourself. If you will."

You looked up at him and you could see his eyes had changed, softened, there was a curiosity there.

"How did you end up here?" He asked you, watching the fire dance in your eyes.

He could see a shadow of sadness in them, pain, worry. But then it disappeared, hidden behind a mask of a beautiful smile. You fascinated him, such a pretty flower growing amongst the cold unforgiving stone.

"My husband put me here." You told him, tracing your finger along the scarred wood of the table. "He's gone now, lost in smoke,”

You could tell he didn't know how to respond. But his expression told you that he had lost someone too. He just quietly nodded, taking another sip of his tea. He was starting to relax a little more, the warmth of the fire and the comforting smell of the drink was starting to put his mind at ease.

"Why did you think I was a ghost?" You asked him softly, your hand coming to rest on his arm, as though to remind him you were real, solid. 

Daemon sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, he didn't know how to answer that question without sounding insane. You could sense that a shadow hung around him like a stormcloud. His secrets coming to the surface.

"This place... It has a restlessness to it," he said, his voice low, cutting through the silence. "Some nights I lay awake listening to the walls groan, as though they are shifting and moving. I can hear... I can hear..." He trailed off, his voice getting hoarse.

You placed a hand on his cheek, his skin was rough and warm, and he leaned into your touch. You liked the way your skin felt against his, you wanted to assure him that you were trustworthy.

Daemon couldn't explain why he was telling you so much, but there was a calmness to you. When you touched him it felt like Dragonstone on a summer's day, like the feeling he got when he was alone in the clouds, flying far away from everything.

"Perhaps you are just lonely, and the castle is lonely too," You suggest to him.

Daemon couldn't deny the loneliness that plagued him. The nights were the worst, he had no one to confide in, no one to love him. He didn't want to think of his wife, his queen, far away and angry with him. Or his brother, dying alone and in agony. He had hurt them in ways that he could not atone for.

"Perhaps you are right," he admitted, taking your hand from his cheek and intertwining it with his own. 

You watched him, the firelight dancing across his handsome features. His blonde hair was like liquid silver and his eyes were beautiful, like a summer sky.

"Stay with me tonight," He told you, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand, his eyes pleading. There was a vulnerability in him, one that drew you in.

Daemon couldn't tell if he was being a fool, or if he was simply desperate to not be alone. The practical part of his brain told him that a good fuck would help him sleep, but this felt like something else. You were beautiful, there was no denying that, but you also felt like a dream, a figment of his imagination.

You didn't say a word, just stood up, still holding his hand, and led him from the kitchen, through the hall, past the courtyard, up the steps to his bed chambers.

The journey there felt like a blur, he couldn't take his eyes off you. The way your dress swayed, the way your hair bounced, the way the moonlight lit up your skin. It was like you were made of mist, or smoke, something that could fade away any moment.

The room was colder than when he left, the air smelled stale, and the curtains were flapping in the wind. It had a haunted quality, like a portrait whose eyes follow you around the room.

He had left the fire burning, but the warmth had been extinguished, and the flames were low. You moved to light the candles, giving the room a soft glow, but the darkness remained.

You turned to face him, he was watching you intently, waiting for you to make a move. You stepped closer, closing the distance between you, your hands sliding up his chest. He was so warm, so solid, full of life and power.

His hands tangled in your hair, pulling your face closer, and your lips met. It was a gentle kiss, hesitant, almost afraid. Like he was doing it for the first time.

His mouth was warm, the taste of the tea still on his lips. You could feel the desire building, the fire growing inside him. You pulled away, looking up at him. His eyes were dark, pupils dilated, a hunger in them.

"Please don't burn me," you whispered, the words sounding strange to his ears.

Daemon didn't understand what you meant by it, and his lust was too powerful to care. He captured your lips again, kissing you deeply.

Your fingers found the hem of his shirt, pulling it up over his head. The light of the candle flickered across his chest, illuminating the texture of his scars.

"You have seen battle," You comment, tracing the mark on his chest, a reminder of the war and the violence he craved.

"Many times," he said, his voice low, heavy with desire, "And I have many more to see."

"So much suffering," You whisper, leaning forward, kissing one that stretched across his chest, "So much blood."

He closed his eyes, letting the heat of your touch wash over him.

You moved down, dropping to your knees, pressing your lips against his stomach, feeling the hardness of his muscles. Your hands reached for laces of his breeches, untying them and freeing his cock from the confines.

He let out a shaky breath as your hand wrapped around him, slowly stroking his length.

"My king," you whispered, kissing the underside of his shaft.

Daemon let out a moan, his head falling back, his hand reaching out to grip the back of your neck. He needed more, needed to feel your lips wrapped around him.

You obliged him, opening your mouth, taking his cock into your hot, wet mouth. He groaned, his hips bucking forward, pushing himself deeper.

"Fuck," he hissed, his fingers tangling in your hair.

He looked down at you, his cock disappearing between your plump lips. The sight made him harder, and he was struggling to control himself. He wanted to fuck you, claim you.

Your hand reached down, cupping his balls, massaging them gently. Daemon moaned, his grip on your hair tightening, pulling your head forward, forcing his cock further down your throat.

He tasted like power, like a dragon made flesh. You could feel his pulse throbbing, the heat of his blood, the energy that pulsed through his body.

Daemon pulled you back by your hair, his cock popping out of your mouth, a string of saliva connecting you. He stared at you for a moment, before bending down and picking you up.

He carried you to the bed, dropping you onto the sheets. You looked up at him, his eyes were wild, and the smile on his face was pure lust.

He untied your dress, pushing the fabric aside, his hands sliding across your breasts. He bent down, his lips wrapping around your nipple, his tongue flicking over the sensitive nub.

Daemon groaned, his hands moving down, tugging on your skirts, pulling them up around your waist, leaving you completely exposed to him.

He continued kissing his way down, his lips trailing across your stomach, his hands lifting your thighs, pushing your legs apart.

He settled between your legs, kissing your inner thigh, gently nipping at the tender skin. You felt his warm breath against your cunt, a soft moan escaping your lips.

He chuckled, pressing his face between your thighs, inhaling your scent. You could feel his tongue licking the length of your pussy, his fingers probing, pressing inside of you.

You gasped, your back arching, your hands clutching the sheets. You had never felt anything like it before, the feeling of his mouth and fingers moving in tandem, making your whole body tingle.

"Don't burn me, don't burn me," you whispered, over and over.

He pulled away, his eyes filled with concern, but he did not speak, did not ask you what you meant.

Instead, he pressed his lips against yours, his tongue sliding into your mouth. You tasted yourself on his lips, and you moaned, wanting more.

His eyes were gentle, trying to convey a tenderness he did not have, and his voice was quiet, as he whispered, "You are not going to burn."

Your hands went to his chest, clutching his shoulders, and you let him spread your legs. He was still fully clothed, but his cock was free, the tip of his erection pressing against your entrance.

You gasped as he slowly pushed himself inside of you. You clung to him, wrapping your arms and legs around him, moaning softly as he began to thrust.

He moved slowly at first, allowing you to adjust to his size, but he quickly increased his pace, pounding into you, the sound of flesh slapping together echoing through the chamber.

"My king, my king, please don't-" you moaned, feeling him hit a good spot inside, sending sparks through your body.

He didn't listen, didn't understand what you meant, just continued to fuck you, his fingers digging into your thighs. He could feel his climax building, his cock throbbing inside of you.

You could feel him getting close, his breathing becoming ragged, his movements becoming erratic. You fell over the edge together, crying out as he released his seed deep inside you.

"My king, oh my king," you moaned, your nails digging into his back, leaving deep red marks.

He collapsed on top of you, panting heavily, his head resting on your chest. He didn't know why you kept calling him king, perhaps you were a bit confused about his status. But he wasn't going to correct you, he enjoyed the way it sounded coming from your lips.

You stroked his hair, his breathing slowly returning to normal. You could feel his heart beating, his warmth, his power.

"Don't leave," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

"I won't," you promised him, the words slipping from your lips before you could stop them.

You felt him slowly fall asleep, his weight comforting on top of you.

There was a strange peace in the room, the darkness and the chill receded, the candlelight dancing across the stonework.

You held him, running your fingers through his hair, humming a tune that was as old as the castle itself.

Daemon woke to the sounds of screaming. His eyes shot open, his hands grabbing for his sword that was always close by. He was alone in his bed, the fire long since extinguished, the only light coming from the full moon.

He didn't have time to worry about where you had gone, the sounds of people shouting and a dragon roaring had him jumping out of bed, quickly dressing.

He ran down the corridor, the stones were ice cold, and the air smelled stale, the shadows dancing menacingly along the walls. He had to push against a door, it was swollen from the damp, but when he burst through, the smell of burnt flesh was thick.

You were in the courtyard, standing in the middle, your white dress glowing in the moonlight. You turned to look at him, your eyes full of tears.

"Please don't burn me," you begged him, your voice breaking.

The roar of the dragon filled his ears, and the sky was lit up with orange flames. He looked to the sky for the source of it, had Aemond arrived with Vhagar?

He was horrified when he saw that the dragon was not Vhagar, but the largest dragon he had ever seen. It looked like Balerion, but it had three heads.

He watched as it descended, its wings so large that with every movement, the sound of the wind would change, becoming deafening, thunderous.

He turned to look back at you, to tell you to run, but you were now right in front of him. Your face was mere inches from his own, burned black, melted, half of it hanging off.

"My king," you cried, your voice a broken, raspy sound. "Why did you burn me,"

Daemon screamed, then woke up in his bed. His body covered in a sheen of sweat, his heart pounding.

The bed next to him was empty, cold, the fire still burning low. He could still hear the screams, the dragon, the pain and suffering, still smell the ash and the charred flesh.

The sun was shining through the window, the sound of birds singing. Everything was peaceful, the castle was still, silent.

He sat up, his breathing slowing, his pulse returning to normal. He looked around the room, there was no sign of you, no sign that the night had ever happened.

He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to calm himself. It had just been a dream, a vision. Nothing more.

But he could still smell you on the sheets, and the image of you was burned into his memory. He got up, dressing quickly, needing to move, to do something.

He spent the day meeting with vassals and lords, discussing matters of the realm. Trying to keep his mind busy. He felt as though he was slowly losing his grip on reality, he swore he could see you around every corner, could hear your voice in every creak and groan of the castle.

The sun had set, and the candles were burning low. The castle was quiet, the servants had gone to bed, the halls empty. He felt like he was completely alone, the only one left in the vast void of this wretched place.

He made his way down to the kitchens, looking for you. It was a foolish thing to do, he knew, but he had to find you, had to see if you were real.

He found Alys, sitting on a stool next to the fireplace, her nose buried in a book.

"Evening," she said without looking up, "Tea is in the pot."

Daemon didn't want tea, he didn't want anything other than to know you were alright.

"Have you seen the new girl?" He asked her, trying to keep his voice even, trying to seem nonchalant.

"Who?" She asked, still not looking up.

"She..." Daemon tried to describe what you looked like, but when he tried to picture you in his mind, the only image he could see was the one from his dream, your burned and melted face.

Alys watched him with a slight smirk, this dragon lord was unraveling so quickly, it was delicious. She went back to focusing on her book. "Doesn't ring a bell,"

He knew there was no point in trying to get more out of her, so he gave up and left the kitchen.

"Perhaps she is where you left her?" Alys suggested, her laughter echoing after him.

He walked back to his chambers, his heart pounding, his palms sweating. He stood outside the door for a moment, before gathering his courage and stepping inside.

The room was dark, the curtains were still closed, the air cold. There was a book lying open on his bed, one he did not remember leaving there.

He picked it up, holding it far away from him, like it could burn him. It was a book of the histories, of the conquest. Of Harren the Black and his sons burning alive.

He wondered who else died in the blaze, the nameless faces who were forgotten by history, the servants and slaves, the wives and daughters.

Daemon was sure he was losing his mind, the castle was haunting him, and it was only a matter of time before he became one of its ghosts.

Don't burn me… My king…

He remembered the fear in your voice, the sadness, the pleading. Anger and confusion bubbled in his chest and he threw the book across the room, the pages fluttering as it landed.

He needed sleep, this was all because he wasn't sleeping. Once he was rested, his mind would be clearer. He put no stock in dreams or visions, ghosts and monsters, that was for children and fools, this was all just because he was tired.

He got ready for bed, blowing out the candles, the moonlight casting shadows across the walls. He settled into bed and closed his eyes, waiting for sleep to take him.

You watched him lay there, his brow furrowed, his face troubled. He tossed and turned, his eyes fluttering open and closed.

You laid down next to him, gently placing your hand on his cheek. He calmed at your touch, his breathing slowing. You pressed a kiss to his forehead, his skin warm, and his hair tickled your lips.

"My king," the words fell from your lips, barely above a whisper.

He opened his eyes, nearly jumping out of bed when he saw you, laying right next to him, your head on the pillow.

"What are you doing?" He demanded, his voice harsh, his hand gripping the dagger under his pillow.

You sat up, your hair falling around you, your dress slipping off your shoulder. "I was just... I just..." You tried to find the words, tried to think of what you were doing, where you were. "...I missed you," you said, the words not feeling quite right, but they were the only ones that came.

He stared at you, his eyes wild, his hand gripping the dagger so tightly, his knuckles were white.

"How did you get in here?" He asked, his voice low, dangerous.

You thought about it, trying to remember, but it was like there was a fog covering your mind.

"I don't know, I've always been here," you said, your voice trembling, tears starting to form. "I just wanted to see you."

He let go of the dagger, and took a deep breath.

"What is your name?" He asked, his eyes studying you.

"I- I don't know," you stammered, the tears falling freely now.

He reached out and touched your face, wiping away the tears with his thumb. His hand lingered, his fingers brushing against your cheek.

"You're not real are you?" He asked, his voice full of sadness.

"Yes I am," you cried, grabbing his hand, pressing it against your cheek. "I'm right here."

He sighed, closing his eyes. "Who do you think I am?"

"You're the dragon king," you said, smiling through the tears, “the great conqueror,”

He stared at you, his eyes filled with sorrow. "What is my name?" He asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"Aegon," you said, the word felt right, like it belonged in your mouth, but the fear in his eyes told you otherwise.

He pulled away from you, moving to the edge of the bed, his back to you. He felt your arms wrap around him from behind, your breasts pressing against his back, your head resting on his shoulder.

"You're not really Aegon," you whispered, "Are you?"

He shook his head, his eyes staring at the floor.

"I'm not real?" You asked, your hands clutching his shoulders.

"No, no you're not," he whispered.

Suddenly you were kneeling in front of him, your hands resting on his thighs, your head tilted to look at him.

"Then why can I touch you?" You asked, running your hands up his thighs.

He didn't answer, just pulled you into his lap and pressed his lips to yours. You melted into him, his hands on your waist, his lips parting.

You tasted sweet, like honey, like a spring day, the flowers blooming. He needed you like a fire needs air, like a man needs water, his hands moving down to your hips, pulling you closer.

He moaned into the kiss, your hips rolling against him. You could feel his hardness beneath the fabric, the heat radiating from him. Your hands untied his shirt, pushing the fabric aside, revealing his bare chest.

You kissed his neck, biting and sucking on the tender skin. He groaned, his hands moving to your hair, tugging, pulling you away from his neck.

You stared at him, your eyes dark, full of lust, your lips swollen. He pulled you back in, his mouth crashing into yours, his hand moving to the back of your neck, holding you in place.

He lifted your skirts, his hand dipping beneath the fabric, easing a finger inside you. You gasped against his lips, his touch sending shivers through your body, your hands gripping his shoulders. He slipped another finger inside you, pumping slowly, then adding another. His eyes never left yours as the intensity increased, moving faster, your breath coming in short gasps.

Your lips brushed his, your voice a breathy moan. "Please my king.... Don't burn me, don't burn me,"

Daemon froze.

"I can't burn you," he said, his voice hoarse. "You're already dead."

Your face crumpled, the tears flowing freely, sobs wracking your body. The sound of you crying echoed strangely in the chamber, the shadows growing longer, the light from the moon turning crimson.

"I'm dead? You killed me?" You cried, trying to pull away from him, but he wouldn't let you go.

"I didn't kill you," he said, his eyes locked on yours. "That was someone else, in another time,"

You looked at him, your eyes wide, your mouth open in a silent scream. He watched in horror as your skin began to bubble and blister, peeling off in chunks. It was like you turned into sand in his arms, slowly crumbling, falling through his fingers.

You screamed, a blood curdling, terrible sound, like the screams he had heard in his nightmare. You were being consumed by fire, the flames eating away at your flesh, burning, boiling, the smell of burning meat filling the air.

He couldn't look away, couldn't let go. He was frozen in place, trapped, watching as you were destroyed. Then you vanished from his lap, fading into nothing.

Daemon sat in his bed, his skin clammy, his breathing ragged. He clutched his head, his fingers digging into his scalp. He couldn't take this anymore. He was going mad.

"Don't leave me here in this place," he whispered, he did not know why he had said it, but he did. It was a plea, a desperate, hopeless plea.

But you had left. Because you were never real.

And this wretched castle was just as lonely as before.

[godofstory]

Alys Hedwig Rivers from Wonderland of Harrenhal has entered the chat👻