#daemon targaryen x y/n

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Valar Morghulis (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Daemon cannot understand Viserys. Trusting Otto Hightower was one thing, but a Red Priestess? His brother must be out of his mind. But if he is, why does Daemon want you so much?

Warnings: Mature language. Lord of Light. Stalking (Daemon's version)

A/N: For the anon that said "I wanna be yours" x Daemon, you have my whole heart. Tagging: @just-some-random-blogger and @aias-fxtns because I need the support (First fic after breakup) and both of you are lovely artists!

EXILE HAD ALWAYS suited him. Or at least, that was what Daemon liked to pretend. It made Viserys’ constant dismissals easier to bear. Easier to accept.

And he had to accept it. Because he could not imagine a world in which he wouldn’t love Viserys, wouldn’t attempt to protect him. If he resented his brother, that task turned harder and harder.

It wasn’t as if exile was so bad. Daemon loved getting to know the world around him. He had a taste for the foreign and exotic, at least per westerosi standards.

It was only natural that when the rumor about the Red Priestess Viserys’s court reached his ears, he had to return. Planning a war in Driftmark could wait. Viserys' sudden bout of madness could not.

A red witch of all things! What was Viserys’ thinking? Daemon knew all about them. About how they were fanatical in their worship, how they performed blood magics similar to those that had brought the doom of Valyria, how they burned alive those they perceived as unfaithful. But most of all, how great they were at bending men to their wills.

So focused Daemon had been on the infestation of local snakes they had at court, he had never thought there would be room for essosi ones. Now, he had to rid Viserys of his latest plague.

“Prince Daemon Targaryen!” The guard announces, and truly, the security here is so lax, Daemon is surprised no one has murdered Viserys yet. Is Otto trying to purposefully get him killed, has he forgotten Daemon is technically exiled or is it just that he is done too with the witch?

Whichever the cunt’s reasons are for allowing him into the Red Keep, Daemon will not question them if they benefit him. He strode inside Viserys’ rooms, finding his brother carving some figurines, accompanied by the mousey Hightower girl.

She has The Seven Pointed Star in her lap, in a pitiful attempt at piety. She is also dressed in a gown that shows far too much of her chest to be considered demure. Daemon isn’t impressed. He has seen prettier whores in Flea Bottom.

“Brother! You have finally joined us.” Viserys sets down the knife and the figurine, looking surprisingly whole for a man who has just lost his wife and heir. But then again, he seems to have gotten himself a far too young distraction to make up for it.

Daemon tampers down his fury at the greeting. It had been Viserys himself who had ensured his distance, denying him even the barest acknowledgment in the form of a dragon egg for his future children.

He takes a deep breath, and channels all his fury into giving a cold glance at the Hightower girl. It sends her scurrying off, which makes him smile. Seriously, what did Viserys see in her? The girl is as common as any of the serving girls. Aemma had been a true Valyrian beauty, even entertaining the thought of replacing her for this mouse was an insult to her memory.

“I heard disquieting rumors.” Daemon says, voice loud enough the girl can hear him from the doorstep, where she lingers. Probably to inform her cunt of a father. “Of strange visits.”

Daemon watches with amusement as the girl splutters, turning a bright red, before she falls out of the room in her haste to get away. He can hear the guards ask her if she is alright, but Viserys makes no move to help her, his attention firmly on him. He cannot help but preen a bit.

The House of the Dragon would always feel drawn to one another. They were flames, meant to burn together. And no Hightower cunt would get in the way of that. Daemon

is not so naive as to think the girl was in his brother’s rooms in the middle of the afternoon only to read to him about the Seven, though. He would ensure someone spiked her usual tea with some moontea. No need to give dear Otto what he craved so much, after all.

“Do you mean the Red Priestess?” Viserys asks him, not even considering he could be referring to his whore.

“Indeed. Are we in Essos now?” On the bright side, if Daemon is bedding the Hightower girl, Daemon doubts he is bedding the priestess. Which makes her far more dangerous than Daemon expected. A woman so adept at manipulation she can get a King to bend to her will without using her feminine wiles? She had to be a sorceress of the worst kind.

Daemon had to remove her before it was too late.

“Oh, not at all! She just made some interesting insights, that’s all.” Viserys gets up from his chair and takes out a book. It’s bound in red leather, and it has nothing on the cover. “Her views are most refreshing.”

He hands the book to Daemon. He pages through it, eyebrows raising. At least the damn thing is written in High Valyrian, though he doesn't appreciate all the talk of R'hllor and this Great Other.

“By the… Viserys, are you losing your faith?” The more Daemon reads, the more he realizes these stories, from past and futures not yet come to pass, are incompatible with any other gods. It is no wonder the Red Priests and Priestesses are known for burning others if this is their sacred book. “Calling the Fourteen false idols…”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Daemon.” Viserys frowns. He doesn’t seem to understand what Daemon is alluding to.

“First, you have Lady… Alicent reading you The Seven Pointed Star. Then, a Red Priestess. Should I expect an ironborn here too? What happened to the Fourteen Flames?”

Viserys meets Daemon’s eyes. For a second, there is silence. Then, much to his indignation, Viserys starts to laugh.

“Oh, brother, is that what worries you? My faith in our ancestral religion is firm. The Red Priestess interested me because she made mentions of an ancient prophecy, one her order should not know about. It was originally made by Aegon the Conqueror.”

A prophecy made by Aegon the Conqueror? Daemon had never heard such a thing. He was quite knowledgeable about the dreamers of his line, yet he had never read mention of Aegon being one.

“Aegon the Conqueror? A dreamer?” Daemon doubted it was true. The priestess must have made it up to get an in with Viserys. He had to admit it was rather clever of her. Somehow, she had looked at him and saw his weak spot. His fascination with dragon dreams.

“He was one. Our grandfather had told me so. The Priestess had no way to know, yet…” All of this was news to Daemon. His eyebrows raised. As if sensing his disbelief, Viserys went on. “His dream is passed from King to heir. It has only made me more confident in naming Rhaenyra as mine. There is no one else better suited to hold the realm.”

“I see.” Daemon, did not, in fact, see. What was the connection between the dream and Rhaenyra ruling? And if this prophecy was passed from king to heir, why was he just learning of it now?

“The Red Priestess isn’t so bad. In fact, I think the two of you would get along quite well. Otto has insisted on banishing her, but I cannot do so in good conscience. Not when she sees so clearly, and when she is able to wield the magic of the pyromancers of Old Valyria.”

“Does she?” Daemon echoes, faintly. His mind is still reeling with the fact that Viserys had never truly considered him his heir. Viserys continues talking, and Daemon continues making all the right noises, but the thought haunts him for the rest of the day.

R’HLLOR HAD BLESSED you with a large family. Your heart swelled when you thought of it, the joy you felt so profound, it brought tears to your eyes.

You had sisters and brothers strewn all over Essos, and soon you would have more of them in Westeros. At least, if things went as planned. Which you were now doubting, knowing you would mess this up.

You had never met your birth family. When you had been very young, they had sold you to the Red Temple in exchange for six gold coins. You remembered nothing about them, and for it, you were glad. It was best, your mentors have said, to not remember the night and its terrors and to only know light.

Many of the children who were sold to the temple never managed to amount to anything. If they were lucky, they became servants, cleaning and cooking after the priests and priestesses. If they were not, they grew up to be the temple’s prostitutes.

When you had arrived at the temple, young and half starved, one of the priests had seen something in you. No otherworldly beauty, no talent at servitude, but an unyielding spark and a keen intelligence that one could not acquire, no matter how much one meditated and prayed.

Some people were just born with it. Touched by the God of Light, a shining crown placed atop their heads that only trained eyes could see. Destined for great things.

You had never seen it yourself, but whatever the priest had seen had been proven right. They had soon learned you had an uncanny ability when it came to learning new languages. It had made you star rise among your peers. You were the perfect envoy to spread the word of salvation.

Anyone could scry through flames, if given enough practice, and any could manipulate fire if they knew the secrets of the ancient arts. With the careful nurturing of your mentors, you had been ready to go out in the world as soon as you had reached your majority, but this was actually your first trip. Any woman on her own was in danger, and so, not only learning the mysteries of your god was needed, but confidence and abilities at self-defense.

By the time you had been ready to venture out in the world, you were a respectable age, though absolutely inexperienced. Not that you would tell King Viserys that, of course.

You had chosen the Seven Kingdoms as your first destination on recommendation from your mentors. It was likely you would be rejected by the King, though you would not face any danger. The followers of the Faith of the Seven had mellowed out after that nasty business two Kings ago, and so, no one would call for your immediate execution.

It was supposed to be a good experience, to learn how foreign courts worked and to practice your opening speech. There was nothing really at stake, not their faith nor your life, so the rejection wouldn’t matter much in the great scheme of things.

Yet, you were still nervous. Crippling, terrible doubt had taken hold of your heart. What if the people hated you so much, their hearts and minds closed to the word of your Lord? If you made such a bad impression they refused to be saved?

The only thing that reassured you was that everything was going as expected. The commoners feared you, the Hand protested your presence and the King, too peaceful to refuse, had agreed to see you.

Today was the day you had been waiting for, and you were feeling nervous. Speaking in public, thanks to your training, wasn’t longer nerve racking as it once had been. Speaking in front of a court caused you a bit more anxiety, but you took comfort in all the formalities. What worried you wasn't making a bad impression, you worried you were about to be so terrible they would refuse to let you speak at all.

The throne room was filled to the brim. Nobles and commoners alike had come to see the foreign witch, said to be able to kill men with a glance and make night into day. Between all of them, one face stood from the crowd. The Hand, Otto Hightower, had a pinched expression, and he clutched at the pin denoting his station as if it would protect him from you.

He, just as the crowd did, imagined you as some enchantress, a sorcerer capable of bending reality to her will. You didn’t want them to be disappointed, so you had put on your best red gown, one that cling to the curves you had, and gave the illusion of those you didn’t. The curly red hair, that you dyed every month with crushed leaves, only served to give you a more otherworldly air.

The Iron Throne was a terrible thing, made from half melted swords that looked more likely to stab anyone sitting on it than serving its purpose. King Viserys was sitting on it, fresh blood dripping from a cut on his forearm. A bad omen, if what you had heard was to be believed.

You dropped into a graceful curtsy, making sure to keep a coy smile on your face. The King didn’t seem interested, which was good. You weren’t interested in him either.

“Your Grace, I come bearing news about salvation.” You started, as you got up. “I was hoping you would allow me to share them in your court.”

“Of course, Lady…” King Viserys was beginning to agree, but as your eyes scanned the crowd, you saw her. The silver woman.

She was standing a bit to the side, hands clasped behind her back, looking just as lovely as she would in a few years, when she would birth the Prince who was fated to be a part of the line that would bring Azor Ahai.

Dazed with the revelation, you stumbled towards her. To think your order had sought all over Planetos, only to find her here. In the single corner of the world your light had not managed to reach.

And, oh, the honor it was, to be the one to meet her, to guide her, to serve her… You could hardly believe it. Your heart beat so hard inside your chest, you feared you may faint. Your hands sweated. This was your destiny, your purpose. You could finally understand it all.

As you moved towards her, a spear was placed in your path. You stared at it, and at the man who held it. Young, tanned, and wearing a white cloak. With a gesture, you set it alight. It took you considerable effort to do so in such a small amount of time, flames weaker than you would like, but it was enough to burn the fingers of the knight and not make you look too threatening.

“Ah!” He jerked back, letting go of the burning metal. Before he could draw his sword, you lunged for the silver woman.

“I have seen you in the flames.” You said, curtsying as low as you could. Yet, another white knight stepped in, sword drawn. “In hearths, candles, in pyres. Wearing a golden crown.”

The Hand scoffed. But the King, suddenly, was attentive.

“Let her pass.” He ordered.

“Father, surely…” The woman, your silver princess, looked afraid, but the knight obeyed and you were already moving. You threw yourself at her feet and kissed her hands. Her skin, pale as alabaster against your darker one, felt supple in your grip.

She was lovely and terrible, and silver. A beacon of light, in this very room. Unbidden, the prophecies dropped from your lips as water poured from a goblet. Even with the little time you had been in her presence, you could feel your powers sharpening, your vision extending. She was a being of pure magic.

“Azor Ahai shall be born from your line. The Prince promised to unite us all.” You looked into her eyes, hoping to convey the importance of your message. There had been times when you had doubted your faith, but when her amethyst eyes met your brown ones, you felt alight with righteous purpose, flesh turning into goosebumps.

The silver woman gasped, breaking the eye contact to look at something above your head. You turned to look, too, annoyed at the disruption. The only thing you found was the King looking at you in what you thought was the same way you looked at her.

“Rise, Priestess. I would like very much to have you in my court. I look forward to hearing your insights.” King Viserys said, voice shaking.

And that was it. The matter was settled, you were staying in the Red Keep. You even had a suite of rooms for yourself, that included a working space, a sitting room, a bedroom, and a bathing room. You! The girl who had been sold to a temple for six gold pieces.

Your whole life had been leading up to this. R’hollor had light up your path, guided you through the darkest nights, pulled you down the worst terrors, only to get you here. Next to your silver princess.

As you willed a small bonfire to life, you prayed to your god for guidance, during the vigil that awaited you. King Viserys had only allowed you small fires, contained to the braziers placed in your workspace. It didn’t matter. You knew he was listening regardless.

“Lord of Light, guide me. Defend me, protect me in this darkness. Lord of Light, that your face shines upon us. Guide me to the right path, allow my mouth only to form words of praise to you, allow me to speak the right sentences to convince them of our righteous cause.”

This was the greatest challenge you would face, you thought to yourself, as the flames raised higher and higher. As the sun fell, and you stood, alone during the long night.

“Strengthen me, show me the way. If you have chosen me for this task, you must guide me to complete it. Celestial father, God above. You who sees it all.”

He had to help you. He had to. Because no matter how good at sorcery you were, you had never preached his word to anyone beyond the faithful of your temple. Now, you stood between Westeros and the long night, and it was imperative that they converted so you could save them all.

Around you, the flames roared.

A SHAME YOU were the worst kind of snake there was, for you were the most exquisite creature Daemon had ever laid eyes upon.

He had been standing in the secret passage for a good half an hour, watching you putter around in your working space. The suite of rooms Viserys had given you was adjacent to the rooms that he was placed in, which made observing you much easier.

The rooms looked like a nightmare come to life, a roaring inferno inside them that made Daemon worry you would catch fire. Between braziers and candles, you stood, dressed in long red robes. You were chanting under your breath, in rapid fire High Valyrian that even he struggled to understand.

“Keep us away from darkness, my lord. You are the light in our eyes, the fire in our hearts, the warmth in our bellies. Yours is the sun that warms our days, the stars that guard us in the darkest nights. For the night is dark and full of terrors.” You spun around the room, in figures that only made sense to you, dancing in wild abandon. A lesser man might find it terrifying, but Daemon only saw beauty.

Dangerous beauty. Beauty that could be destroyed at any instant, if you moved the wrong way and your robes caught fire. Yet, somehow, you steered your steps just right, dancing between the flames.

“Thank you for the sun that warms us, the stars that light our paths. Thank you for the fires in our hearths, and the torches that will keep darkness at bay.” In the confusing low light of the chambers, bathed by red light from the fire, you didn’t look human. You looked like something beyond humanity, a terrifying witch taken straight out of the cursed Valyria. Yet, it was impossible to look away. Your beauty was inhumane, dark skin shining like polished obsidian in the low light, red curls tumbling like a cascade of fire over your shoulders.

“Lord of Light, protect your servant. Guide me, do not allow me to stray.” You danced in an odd circle, stopping right in front of the wall where Daemon was hiding in. “Show me your mysteries.”

And somehow, it felt as if you were talking to him. Daemon froze in place, not even daring to breathe. How could you know of the secret passage? You had only resided in the Red Keep for a couple of days.

You didn’t move. You stared at the wall, or rather, through it. Even with the stone and the metal screen separating the two of you, Daemon felt as if you were staring him down.

Perhaps, your sorcery wasn’t just clever parlor tricks. Perhaps, you were even more dangerous than he imagined.

You were pure fire. And dragons loved to burn.

[paulyenvol6]

Meant To Be

Daemon x female reader (OS)

Based on this request. Enjoy :)

Contains: mentions of incest, kidnapping, arranged marriages, jealousy, choking, fear and panic

Wordcount: 3,210

Masterlist

Daemon patted your head carefully cradling you as your glossy eyes looked up to him.

"I'm scared, brother."

He chuckled lowly sounding a lot more calm than he truthfully was but he couldn't make you see that. "There's no need for you to worry, sister."

"But grandfather looked so serious. I fear that he is angry with me because I broke the vase."

Daemon shook his head pursing his lips as he took in the pretty view in front of him.

"That was months ago, sweetling. Why would he come up with this now, mhm?"

To that you had nothing to say so you remained silent doubfully staring at your folded hands.

"Cheer up, will you? Thinking about it won't change anything."

It almost looked like you hadn't heard him because suddenly your eyes darted at him as if you had just had an idea. "Will you accompany me?"

Daemon sighed thoughtfully biting his lip and then tilted his head at you.

"I don't know. He asked for your presence."

Seeing you draw your face in disappointment brought little stitches to his heart and so the older brother reached for your wrists running his thumb over the back of your small hands.

"Fine. I'll come with you. But if grandfather doesn't want me there, I won't have a choice."

That seemingly was enough for you because your eyes lit up with a fresh optimism and when you wrapped your arms around him Daemon had to laugh and every last doubt about it vanished into the air.

"Thank you brother," you whispered in his ear and when you pulled back there was this softness in your brother's face that you loved so much and that you secretly believed only belonged to you. He was a fierce and dangerous knight, violant and merciless on the battle field but when he played with you, laughing and teasing you, he was another person. He was gentle, playful and kind.

It was a couple of minutes later when a guard sent by Jaehaerys demanded you to come with him and Daemon didn't hesitate and walked up to the door as well. The guard gave him a confused glance but to your relief didn't dare to intervene when your brother stepped to your side.

The walk was silent and tense, sweat relentlessly gathering on your forehead and you wished for a cold rain to soak your flushed face. The worst part about this was that you didn't know why your grandsire wished to speak to you in such a formal setting. Your eyes narrowed once you entered the throne room because you hadn't expected to meet your brother Viserys there as well.

"Brother?" you asked more surprised than suspicious but Daemon grabbed his shoulder forcefully tilting his head.

"What are you doing here, Viserys?" he hissed but before he could answer, Jaehaerys rose from his throne opening his arms in a welcoming manner.

"Step closer, my grandchildren," he requested a friendly smile on his face which made you think that you might actually not be in trouble after all.

"I'm surprised to see you here Daemon, but perhaps it is better that way."

You bit down on your bottom lip trying to find a reason for this gathering but frankly, couldn't come up with anything. The three of you bowed your heads and then you carefully raised your gaze again expecting him to finally clear the fog.

"I asked you" – he pointed to Viserys and you – "here today because I have something to discuss with you."

Jaehaerys walked down the steps so he was on the same level as you letting his eyes wander between your oldest brother and you.

"You are 16 now, granddaughter, and Viserys has just celebrated his twenty-first nameday. I believe it is time for the two of you to finally be wed under the eyes of the gods."

There was a loud noise like glass was shattering on the stoney ground although it might have happened in your mind. The blood in your veins froze, your knees became weak and the air was knocked out of your lungs. You couldn't even ask your grandfather if you mayhaps had misunderstood him and probably looked very strange for a observer right now with your wide eyes and open mouth. Viserys seemed to take the announcement a lot calmer bowing his head again and then proudly raising his chin.

"Of course, your grace. It will be my honour."

Quickly, but still utterly overwhelmed you bowed as well though much less elegant than before and then stuttered a "Yes, your grace."

You couldn't look up though too focused on collecting your chaotic thoughts and calming your rapidly pounding heart to meet the intense eyes of your grandsire. Faster than you would have wished the conversation was over with Jaehaerys saying a few more words that didn't reach your ears and then the hall was quiet the only audible sound being the heavy breathing of your brother Daemon.

Daemon. You hadn't seen his reaction to the announcement but now looked at his profile for the first time. His beautiful profile. His jaw was clenched and his nostrils flared as he stared ahead as though he hadn't noticed that Jaehaerys was gone yet. Viserys on the other hand exhaled loudly turning to you with a crooked smirk and then resting his hands on his hips.

"Well… We knew that this day would come, didn't we?"

It was true. You had been a young child, still a babe actually when Jaehaerys had betrothed Viserys as the eldest son to you, Baelon's only daughter. It had always been that way and you had had your entire life preparing yourself to wed your brother and in some way you felt ready for it but still… these news had come out of the blue knocking you over like it was the work of a heavy blow of the wind.

And then there was Daemon. Your sweet protective Daemon who you secretly thought of as your favourite brother.

"Yes, we did," you eventually answered Viserys but avoided eye contact.

"This is not going to happen," a quiet threatening voice suddenly cut through the air making the thin hair on your arms rise.

"Excuse me?" Viserys asked chuckling quietly.

"You're not going to marry her," Daemon repeated the content of his words, looking more than calm as he examined his older brother.

"Did you hear what grandfather just said?" Viserys laughed looking at Daemon as if he believed him to have a stroke or had blacked out during the announcement.

"I don't care what he said. She's not going to wed you. She's mine."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words and your big eyes flickered over his face as you tried to search for his gaze.

"Daemon?" you whispered but he ignored you solely focused on gritting his teeth at the sight of Viserys.

"Yours? If I recall correctly Jaehaerys betrothed her to me when I was 8 years old. I don't know why you're so angry, what did you expect to happen?"

Daemon took a powerful step towards his brother who looked frightened for a moment before squeezing his eyes and clenching his fists.

"Careful, Daemon. Perhaps you should leave now before you're gonna do something you're gonna regret later."

And that was exactly what happened. Daemon scoffed and you had expected him to say something else and hiss out another threat but he seemed to change his mind flashing his eyes once more before turning around and marching out of the hall. You deeply exhaled your brain working so hard your head started to painfully throb as you worriedly glared at Viserys hoping to receive some explanation from him.

"V-Viserys?" you asked on the verge of crying but felt a comforting warmth spread throughout your body when you saw the crease between his brows fade and being replaced by a gentleness in his expression.

"Don't worry. Mayhaps he just feels a little ruled out. But this is not for you to be concerned about. We have been meant to marry since we were litte children and so it will be. Daemon will calm himself in a matter of days, I'm sure."

He stroked over your hair then leaning down to kiss your forehead which was meant to be a soothing gesture but somehow it didn't quite do the job.

"He looked so angry," you breathed feeling a hole in your heart that achingly yearned for your brother to come back and hold you while telling you that he wasn't mad at you but unfortunately you didn't share these magical powers with Daemon and so all you could do was snuggle up against your other brother's chest who had pulled you into a hug.

"I know, I know. But give it time. You know him, he tends to let his emotions guide him but just as quickly as he gets enraged, he will calm down. I promise you, everything will be fine."

You sniffed a few times and then blinked when Viserys carefully lifted your head from his chest.

"Go to your chambers now and get some rest. Tomorrow everything will look different already."

You obediently nodded, rubbed with your hand over your tired eyes and then made your way out of the throne room, Viserys looking after you a lot more worried than he had portrayed himself to be.

~~~~~~~~~~

A gasp escaped your mouth your pupils dilating when a hand was pressed to your mouth and you coughed a few times squirming to free yourself from the gag.

"Shhh," a voice made and that was when you recognized the man sitting on the edge of your bed towering over your lying figure.

Daemon took one finger to his mouth and gestured you to be quiet while loosening his hand over your mouth as if to test whether you would be good.

"Shh," he made again and the corner of his mouth curled when he saw you nodding with your head. "Good girl."

Then he took his hand away from your face so you were able to inhale deeply and instead placed his hands in his lap.

"What are you doing here, Daemon?" you whispered quietly slightly sitting up in your bed.

"I came to see you, sweetling," he answered his eyes running down your face to your lips that were twisted in a pout.

"You were mean today," you claimed crossing your arms in front of your chest.

"Why was I mean?"

Your forehead furrowed eyes darting at him in disbelief.

"You were so mad for no reason. And you didn't talk or look at me for once."

Your brother chuckled which didn't quite fit the conversation in your opinion but when his hand reached to your face to caress your cheek you couldn't surpress a light smile and pressed yourself against his big hand.

"I wasn't mad at you, little flower. My anger was directed at Viserys and mayhaps our grandsire but I could never be mad at you, sweetling."

These were exactly the kinds of words you wanted to hear out of Daemon's mouth so your eyes brightened up leaving no room for your previous despair. Still you had to make sure that everything would be fine and that your brother would be willing to bury this ugly fight with Viserys so you put your hand above Daemon's.

"But the two of you are going to make up, right? I hate it when you're fighting."

"That depends, my sweet flower." You frowned at the mischievious expression of him.

"Depends on what?"

"It depends on his behaviour in the coming weeks."

If Daemon had hoped to give you some answers with his words it didn't work because your eyes narrowed.

"What do you mean by that, Daemon?"

Your brother didn't answer instead releasing your cheek to grab your hand and pulling back your blanket.

"Come with me."

Your hands tried to grasp the blanket in an attempt to cover your barely covered body but you failed and just open-mouthedly observed Daemon.

"But not in the middle of the night! And what do you even want to do?"

"Shut up," he hissed and suddenly a cold shiver ran down your spine.

"Daemon," you tried to get his attention but he brought his hand to your face once more looking at you with a new coldness in his eyes that certainly wasn't there before.

"Do as I say, little flower. I don't wanna have to make you. Be good."

The pet name that you usually adored so much stood in contrast to the harshness of his words and yet you didn't even dare thinking about disobeying him. You climbed off the bed taking a coat from the table and putting it on all under the eyes of Daemon.

"Good girl," he commented and stepped in front of you. "We're gonna make a little trip together now. Just you and me."

Something was flickering in his eyes and it scared you which was why you felt your hands began to shiver slightly.

"Where are we going, Daemon?" you asked him gasping when his hand came up to wrap around your throat.

"I thought I told you to be fucking good. All you have to do is do as I say and keep that little mouth shut. S'not that fucking hard, is it?"

You were fighting with yourself weighing whether to speak up again but you knew how angry and cold your brother could get and he seemed unpatient right now so you chose submissiveness nodding and letting him take you by your upper arm.

He didn't look at you for once while dragging you outside the keep and neither did he speak. You had barely inhaled the fresh cold air when you already regretted to have come with him because Daemon treated you so roughly that you wondered if you had done something to offend him. But the wind shifted when the two of you approached Caraxes and your brother glared at you from the side.

"Are you cold, sweetling?" he asked bringing a hand to your lower back.

"No," you answered shortly still disturbed by his outburst earlier.

Daemon didn't have to be a genius to figure out the source of your fear and quickly pulled you in for a hug which made you inhale his familiar scent.

"Forgive me. I didn't mean to scare you. I just needed you to obey me and mayhaps I've been a little to rough with you."

Your eyes fluttered with uncertainty receiving comfort by his soft voice but at the same time the memory of his narrowed eyes was still too fresh. But when he kissed your forehead hands cradling your face every last resistance was gone, vanished in the air and your hands clutched his coat.

"It's fine. I'm sorry that I was bad, brother."

You felt him trace your skin with his thumb before pulling back and gently pushing you towards his majestic dragon.

"Come closer. I'll help you climb him."

And so he did. Daemon lifted you in the air like you weighed nothing and made you sit behind him in the saddle. You had done this a thousand times, flying with Daemon who enjoyed being on dragon back a lot more than your eldest brother and spending hours in the air. It was a homely gesture, wrapping your arms around his waist, resting your chin on his shoulder and pressing yourself close to him while he commanded Caraxes to lift into the sky.

You still didn't know what was happening and what your brother intended to do but weren't you supposed to trust him? He had never done anything to get you in danger but protected and cared for you all your life. No matter how frightening or fearsome he seemed to his enemys, to you he was a kind man who cherished the ones that were dear to him. And so you were silent on the way closing your eyes and listening to the wind roaring in your ears.

You were at calm and didn't immediately notice when you were close to your destination a beautiful island spread out before your eyes. It was dragonstone, your ancestral seat.

"Why are we going to dragonstone?" you dared to ask once again and this time your brother didn't answer at all which you perhaps should feel grateful for.

Caraxes landed, a jerk going through your body and then Daemon helped you off the dragon and lifted you to the ground. Once there you had expected him to continue his rushed journey dragging you with him once again but instead he towered over you, hand cupping your face.

"Sweet flower…," he mumbled looking at you with a mixture of love and smug. "We are going to have reason to celebrate."

Before you could wonder what he meant by that Daemon suddenly leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss which instantly made your eyes widen and your body tense. You mumbled phrases of rejection but they were muffled by his mouth. He sucked and massaged your bottom lip with his mouth humming against you in satisfaction and when he pulled back you jolted backwards only just being held back by him.

"Ugh uh," he made. "Where are you going, my little love. As I said, we have reason to celebrate. I brought you here, sweet sister, to bind us for all time. You belong to me and tonight, before the sun rises on the sky we're going to be man and wife."

He gave you a smile that was so geniune you choked on your breath but Daemon cut off the words that you were about to say.

"Once it's done nothing will reverse it and you'll be mine for the rest of your life. This is how it's always been meant to be and we both know it."

You shook your head in disbelief, your trembling hands clenching in fists around the fabric of your cloak and a little cry leaving your mouth.

"No, Daemon, we can't. I am to wed Viserys. We've been promised to each other since we were children."

It was like a switch was flipped because suddenly his face twisted in anger teeth grinding as he took another step towards you and took hold of your shoulders.

"I don't care what my grandsire wants. I told you, you were meant for me. I'm not gonna let you go just because Jaehaerys wants you to marry Viserys. And once we're married nothing will ever separate us." He sighed leaning down a little and his eyes softened.

"Don't you want that as well? Don't you desire to be with me? You don't have to lie to me, little flower."

"I don't know what I want," you said the panic clearly showing in your shaky voice.

"Oh but I do."

Daemon chuckled wrapping an arm around your shoulders and moving you up the path that would lead you to the castle.

"Just trust me, sweetling. Trust me and we will all get what we want. You're going to live a happy life by my side, because it's meant to be that way. We're meant to be."

[simp-ly-writes]

Winterfell & Wolves

─────── · · Dreams of Dragons (pt.4)

PAIRING: Daemon Targaryen x Fem!Targaryen!Reader, Cregan Stark x Reader

SUMMARY: Rescued from a snowstorm by the Starks, you find yourself warming up the house more ways than one. Meanwhile your lack of presence in the Red Keep definitely does not go unnoticed as Rhaenyra learns the truth behind her Uncle's apparent obsession with you.

TAGS: alternate universe, canon divergence, no use of y/n, second person perspective, female pronouns used, coarse language, protective!Daemon, angst, blood and gore, hurt/comfort, soulmates, time travel, targ-cest, engine-translated high valyrian, not beta read. MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 4,910 | PRIOR | NEXT A/N: wrote this on my commutes, kinda (well very) angsty but we get a new POV!

─────── · ·

YOU STIR FROM YOUR SLEEP AS THE HORSE COMES TO A HALT, THE SOUND OF LARGE SPRUCE DOORS CREAKING OPEN ON IORN HINGES MAKES YOUR EARS RING. Picking up your head and blinking away the blurriness of your vision you notice half a dozen people standing on the front steps to House Stark of Winterfell as you stop just in front of them.

"She is awake," Cregan Stark notes whilst dismounting, he offers his hand to help you down as you slide off the saddle and grit your teeth as your feet touch the snow.

A young woman rushes over, presenting you a pair of slippers with an anxious smile, "these were the best we had on hand, your highness, we will get you-" You place your hand on the girls shoulder and offer her a smile once feeling her tense underneath your hold.

"These are wonderful, thank you. I know you were not expecting me and nor was I expecting to be here," you turn to face the Stark, tipping your head down to show your gratitude, "I thank you for all your generosity."

You look up to see as Cregan nods, his hand extends out from his side, motioning you forwards and indoors yet you pause in your steps once noticing he does not join you right away. His back faces you now, you watch as he pats the horses neck, talking to a group of men and boys who also wear the crest of a wolf upon their chest.

They each carry a weighted blade upon their backs with the youngest holding a bow in between their hands. "The stag is wounded, North still tracks its scent into the eastern woods, if you go now you should be back before nightfall."

The group presses a fist to their chest, bowing their heads before moving towards the gates. The youngest boy waves shyly over to you which you return with a playful wink before seeing as he takes the reigns of the horse and scurries out of view.

"As a boy I was told it was rude to stare," the Stark comments before turning to face you, he stands at the bottom of the steps, you both eye level with one another. You feel as your hair is taken by the wind, you do your best to pull it away from your face as you speak, "Who is North?"

He tilts his head, eyes cast to the side in contemplation before looking back at you, tone even and carrying sincerity, "They are the Wolf that found you." You raise a brow, "Just a wolf?" you press forwards, you hadn't studied much about creatures other than dragons and water serpents, though the latter you still questioned if they truly existed.

"Direwolf, you have dragons, we have wolves," Cregan explains before continuing up the steps and holds the door open for you. You step through the threshold and are met with warmth as hundreds of candles burn in the alcoves between arched doorways. At the end of the hall is a large tapestry of two wolves playing in falling snow underneath the moon.

"Your home is warm," you smile, you hear as Cregan lets a small breath of air out of his noise in a quiet laugh. "And yours is not?" he says in a lightened tone, walking forwards- expecting you to follow him down a series of twisting halls as stone floors turn to wood ones. The ceilings lower slightly by the support of pillars and trusses that frame the stained glass windows.

"The Red Keep is colder than anyone expects, even the breath of a dragon does little to warm its halls," you answer whilst stepping into a another room. A large wooden desk covered in papers and books sits across from a two-story fireplace made of boulders and stones. A fire burns brightly from within as extra logs are stacked beside to keep the flame.

A small sitting area sits just off to the side divided by the pelt of a bear, its open mouth and eyes watch as you enter the space and take a seat on the stones in front of the fire. You slip the fur cloak off from your shoulders and fold it on your lap, presenting it to the man that kneels before you.

He silently takes it, placing it on the floor by his side as he checks over your wounds. Placing your hands in your lap you look anywhere but him as he gently takes your leg, placing it on his thigh as he picks away the fallen leaves on your bruised knee with foreign gentleness. You flush as his hand slides down the back of your leg to your ankle, your squeeze your hands together, if either of my fathers stepped foot into this room now, are the thoughts you distract yourself with yet the Stark thinks you to be in pain.

"I apologize for your pain, princess, but I had to check, your bruises have deepened a few shades," Cregan says as you swallow deeply. He lowers your ankle slowly to the floor before checking over your other ankle and you clear your throat before responding, "I think the snow has frozen any pain I have felt... I have just never been treated my anyone other than my Maesters."

Cregan nods, "Then I am sorry to be your first," his tone quiet and overtly sincere and throw your head back laughing and try to speak between gasps of air, "It was not my intention to insult you, Lord Stark."

"I know, but I am sorry nonetheless," he sets down your other leg before brushing his thighs and standing. He walks towards his desk, leaning over to grab a pitcher and two cups before retuning to you.

"A Maester is on their way from the barracks, they should arrive in the hour. Would you like for me to word to the King?" You pause in taking the cup from his hand as he sits beside you as you look towards the fire in between you two. The Stark watches your hesitation with a piqued interest.

His hand rests closer to yours on the stone bench as he leans forwards, "Do you... not wish to return home? Has something happened that we have yet to hear word of?" Your eyes widen before shaking your head, you take a large sip from your cup before responding, "Everything is as it should be back home, for better... or for worse. I..." you pause before meeting his eyes, your hand creeps forwards, your fingertips brushing against one another, "...I am just tired after the stresses of lately but I would hate more to intrude upon-"

"It is an honour to host the princess," Cregan cuts you off before holding your hand in a silent apology for overstepping with his words. You savour the moment, feeling the various small scars and indents across his warm skin before seeing his brown hair flash silver and you quickly pull away- looking towards your lap.

"I was told the north is cold in more ways than one yet everyone I have met so far has been kind, even to the weather," you comment, looking over the space, leaning back against the stone as you pick at the dried blood on your arms.

"It is our duty to serve the weather, to serve the North. My ancestors ancestors understood that, as did yours, that there are greater evils up here than in the South. And so we must measure kindness and ruthlessness as equals to survive." You listen to the pride in his tone, watch the way he sits that much straighter as you know he must have been trained to do so since a young age.

"Your sense of duty is truly admirable," you offer the man a smile in which he returns with albeit a smaller one only noticeable in the soft crinkles by the corners of his eyes. "What is more admirable is to compare my devotion as higher than your own, Dragon-guide."

You are silent, eyes widening as he looks over your form. "You know who I am?"

"It is the Song of Fire and Ice," Cregan notes, downing the rest of his drink before standing at the sound of footsteps nearing the entry way. He turns back to look at you before opening the door, "I shall be in the next room if you need me." You simply nod, head still spinning with the new information as an older man steps forward, bowing deeply to you before walking forwards.

Cregan lingers watching as various bottles and tools are taken out from the Maester's satchel and lined up on the mantel before moving to step out of the room, pausing at the sound of your voice as you see over the Maesters shoulder, "Your cloak, Lord Stark." You move to stand, picking up the fur yet he raises a palm to halt your actions.

"Keep it for the duration of your stay, Princess Targaryen." And the door closes softly behind him.

─────── · ·

The Maester looks up, a knowing look in his eye as he begins to clean your wounds, humming to himself.

"What is Lord Stark like as a leader?" you question to the Maester as he pauses in his actions before counting his work, "he is a just leader with a strong mind. He took down his father to take his current Lordship and has never made anyone question his ability. He is a good man, your highness, as he is also an unmarried one at that."

You look off to the side and out through a window as snow softly falls and melts against the glass. "Dragons and wolves-hm?" you question to yourself quietly. The Maester hums a brighter tune in response before asking you to turn. You hiss as ointment hits the gash on your face.

"There is pain before there is healing," the Maester comments seeing as you grip the stones beneath you. "I see that now," you speak through gritted teeth. "I will work as quickly as I can, your highness." And you nod in thanks, tears beginning to well in your eyes as you breathe through the deep stinging feeling before releasing a long breath once it is finally over.

"Should I call for the staff to take you to your room, your highness?" the Maester asks, placing his emptied bottles and tools back into his bag. You open your mouth to respond but before you can Cregan steps back into the room in more relaxed garbs, his hands are placed behind his back as he dismisses the Maester.

"I shall show her to her rooms and introduce her as host, take care Maester Evos," the Lord Stark commands watching as the other man exists the room before offering his hand to help you stand.

Before you do, you reach down to grab the forgotten clock, setting it under your arm before taking his as he leads you back down the hall and towards a separate wing. Three girls stand at the end of the hall, each one bowing in a row to you both. "These are to be your staff, Alexi, Eda, and Lyah," Cregan explains to you, his hand lingers on your arm as you feel the stares of the girls focus in on your connection.

You smile, "I thank you for your service in advance."

"A bath is readied for you, your highness... should we prepare you for dinner afterwards?" They look towards there Lord as do you finding him already peering down at you in a silent ask, is this what you wish?

You raise your head, "It would be an honour to dine with the Lord Stark." Your chuckle in seeing him hastily look away and hear as he clears his throat, Dragons and their fire, he murmurs before dismissing himself.

You watch as he leaves before following the staff into your guest chambers. The rooms are fit with blue wallpaper, various hand drawn designs encompass the space. A fur rug is settled underneath a canopy bed, a warn arm chair nestled beside the fireplace and to the next room over you find the bath already filled.

You allow your tattered dress to fall and be disposed off before stepping into the hot waters and allow yourself to sink into the bubbles. You lean back against the walls of the tub and listen to their idle gossip. Hands begin to massage soap and oils into your scalp and watch as another readies your gown and shoes on a table in the corner of the room.

"I heard local clans have been spotted tampering with the wall-" Alexi begins to speak before being cut off by a scoff.

"Well they really must have a death wish- one that accounts for all of mankind," Eda says, flattening out your gown and picking off specks of dirt.

"They hope that the chaos will bring them an opportunity to uprise," Lyah counters whilst rinsing your hair.

"But our lord serves us well... why would they play against his hand?" Alexi mumbles to herself, turning around to grab a stack of linen towels.

"Well how am I supposed to know?" Eda says and you can almost hear her eyes roll and thats when you decide to speak up, startling the ladies that surround who thought you to be asleep in the tub.

"There are different levels to need that others struggle to see depending on where they chart. Why take from the hand when you can be the hand? Or better yet... be the one who decides who gets hands in the first place," you watch as the women look between one another before continuing their work.

"You are wiser than your years and we all apologize, your highness, we thought you were resting-" Eda flushes, grasping her hands in front of herself with a weary smile.

"Nonsense!" you pick your bubble-covered hand up with a soft chuckle, "it has been quite some time since I've been able to hear the talk of the people," you explain and watch as each slowly relaxes the muscles in their body.

"Are you allowed out of the castle much?" Alexi begins to ask before being swatted by Lyah, a pointed look is shared yet you answer honestly, "no, I'm afraid not with my condition or without another member of my family as my uncle tells me."

"I am sorry to hear that, princess," Alexi's head tips down. You push yourself out of the bag, grabbing one of the towels to wrap around your hair, the other you begin to dry yourself off with before the girls move you to a stool where your hair and face are prepared before you step into the gown. Its fabric is a deep grey with silver accents, not too different than what you wore in the Red Keep.

Yet besides the dragons that usually crawled up your form, wolves danced around the bottom of your skirt so that if you spun they would become an animated run. "It is gorgeous," your hands drift across the material.

"It was our Lord's late mother's collection from her younger years," Eda explains and you freeze at her words before beginning to protest, "Surely I cannot-"

"The Lord brought it as forwards as an option, there are others if you do not like it but this one was closest to your size," Lyah reassures you before presenting you a pair of gloves to wear, "if you decide to go out later," she quickly explains and you grab them, tucking the pair into your belt.

"Thank you all for preparing me," you smile graciously.

"When else could we dress a princess?" Alexi smiles, bowing her head as you laugh before telling her to raise, "well then I wish for another princess to grace your halls in the future." Yet your words do not comfort the girl, her smile fading, "You are not to stay?"

Eda and Lyah share a look behind your back that you catch in the mirrors reflection. "I must return to my duties soon, I do not wish to think of the chaos that awaits my return."

Alexi does not respond, simply opening the door to the hall as you follow behind her towards the dining room where the Lord of Winterfell can be seen overlooking the mountain peaks.

"The Princess Targaryen, my lord," a guard announces by the door. You watch as Cregan pivots on his heel, his head tips towards you in greeting yet he takes his time looking on the way back up.

"It fits," he states as everyone clears out of the room behind you. Placing your hands behind your back you walk up to stand beside the lord, peering out the window to take in the view, you do not ask for clarification for his words, mistaking yourself for thinking too deeply on the matter and change conversation.

"By the morning I should be well rested enough to send correspondence, the Maester said all my injuries were minor once cleaned properly," you announce, keeping your view to the snow-peaked mountains- feeling Cregan's stare.

"Is your leave to take place in the early morning hours? Or could I show you the true north?" You look down at the wolves on your dress, smiling as you shift the weight between your feet.

"Sending a letter by evening works as well, perhaps better they are to receive it in the morning," you question aloud and face the Stark who extends their hand, "hungry?"

You take his hand, "famished," you answer as he leads you both towards the table already set. Cregan pulls out your chair before sitting at his own. He pours out two glasses of wine before leaning back, eyes reflecting the flames of the fire on the other side of the room.

"Is the direwolf, North, yours?" you ask, cutting into a steamed carrot on your plate.

"Yes, we bond similarly to how you do with dragons," you know his words are not meant to hurt you yet you can do little to hide the pain in your eyes knowing that you, a Targaryen, do not have one to call your own.

"I have seen to misspoke," Cregan clears his throat upon seeing your sadness before changing topics. Conversation flows easily afterwards as you bring up childhood stories, talk about your differing cultural traditions and events.

─────── · ·

Next thing you knew night had transitioned into the early morning hours as you stood in front of your bedroom door. Cregan bowed his head, wishing you a goodnight, his eyes lingering- waiting for you to disappear from his sight.

You turn away, blushing underneath his gaze, your hand wraps around the cold metal door handle, squeaking slightly as you begin to turn it before pausing and looking back at the Lord over your shoulder.

"Would it be... overstepping as a guest to say that your kindness gains more than my thanks." The air stills, your breaths tightly and uneven as you wait for his response. You feel his warmth approaching your back, feel as his hand brushes a strand of hair away from your shoulder, his warm fingertips lingering against your skin.

"I think..." another long pause, "...that we both should rest and become clearer headed before pursuing anything, your highness." You swallow, nodding your head gently before shielding yourself behind the safety of your door.

Your heart sting more than just a light rejection- it burns and pains you physically leaving you feeling hollow with.... guilt? But I need a huband... father demands it. You quickly discard your layers, a growing anxiety has you feeling light headed as lay upon the covers in your chemise whilst picking at your skin.

The lingering memory of Cregan's touch sends a shutter down your spine as your head finds the pillows and you bring your knees up towards your chest. Years worth of memories of your parents- dragon masters you correct yourself, condemning you for wanting friendship and attention from men in your younger days slip past your eyes.

Always so persistent it confused you to no end while you watched your friends kissing in the school yard, getting partners, hooking up, or even getting married and you had never even come close to brushing hands nevertheless kissing a boy... and today it seemed your curiosity peaked, you feel disturbed by your mixed feelings on the matter, tossing and turning throughout the early morning hours before the girls come with a tray of breakfast and a new gown for you to wear.

─────── · ·

By the time you are prepared and the Stark's fur cloak sits heavy upon your shoulders, you step out into the front courtyard to see a number of black horses standing in wait, supplies draped over their body and men at arms awaiting their Lords orders. Cregan stand in the middle, his baritone echos against the stone walls as he delegates tasks and orders alike.

You catch eyes with a familiar golden-eyed and white-fur wolf who tilts their head in your direction. North remains seated in between the Lords legs as you step closer to the crowd that slowly dies down upon seeing your presence.

"Good Morrow, princess," Cregan greets you, bowing his head as does everyone else around you. You straighten your shoulders as you tip your head in reply, "Lord Stark, are we to travel to the wall?"

"Yes-" North stirs at Cregan's knee, their snout pressing into your thick gown curiously. Clearing his throat the wolf meets his eyes, an almost silent conversation is held before Cregan kneels, hand resting at the back of the animals neck.

"North wishes to greet you, your highness." Your eyes light up with excitement that you do nothing to conceal as you hastily bend down and extend your hand, feeling as the cold wet nose presses against your palm as you pat the wolfs head. Cooing as their eyes close.

"Are you not the sweetest creature?" You rhetorically question, hand moving to scratch behind their ear. A chorus of laughs can be heard around you, "I believe that sweetest creature has ripped the throats out of a dozen foes just this week," a voice comes from the crowd that you cast a small smile towards before turning you attention back to North.

"The sweetest man-killer, I stand corrected," you clarify underneath your breath, and catch a small chuckle coming from the lord who stands seeing as the animal would not attack you anytime soon.

"Have you ridden before, princess?" you cast your gaze upwards, eyes gleaming with a number of thoughts and prior dreams that would be unbecoming of someone of your status as you answer simple, "yes," standing as a horse is brought forth.

You hesitate for a moment seeing the height of the stallion before a pair of gloved hands are on your waist, helping you up onto the saddle. You and Cregan share a look before you watch as he easily saddles up and casts his hand to the side in a silent as for you to join him.

You trot over, a sudden gust of cold air eats at your face as the gates open, "Are you ready to see the truth North, your highness?" You watch as North dashes out ahead of you, emitting a howl before disappearing into the barred white landscape.

"I am," you respond confidently.

─────── · ·

THE RED KEEP HAD NEVER FITTED ITS NAME BETTER AS BLOOD COULD BE SEEN SPLATTERED UPON THE FORTRESSES WALLS AND POOLING ON ITS FLOORS. Screams could be heard echoing down the hall that Rhaenyra peered down from around a stone corner. Her eyes cast to the Rogue Prince holding the last of your personal guard pressed against the wall, their feet kicking at the stones and dirt, their nails digging into the hands at their throat.

The Princes words were quiet and deathly so in comparison to the loud start to his massacre once his brother finally brought forth the news that you were no where to be found. Your night shawl the only evidence of your disappearance the night prior hanging from your balcony.

Rhaenyra kept her footsteps light to try and keep herself hidden for as long as possible- hiding between pillars to try and hear more of the conversation. "Your ignorance took her from me and you will pay for you sin. You fight so hard for your minuscule life now while you should have fought just as hard for hers," Daemon all but growls lowly into the knights ear, his eyes drinking in their fear, his shoulders tense and shaking as he thinks to how you must have felt that night.

Rhaenyra gasps as dark violet eyes latch onto her presence. Her heart aches in her chest at the rising hopeful glint that swiftly dies once realizing she was the wrong princess. The man coughs as he is dropped to the floor. The Princess holds her spot and watches as the knight crawls towards her, his right hand missing half of its fingers reaches up towards her before a boot rests heavily between their shoulders, stopping any further movement.

Dark Sister gleams in the daylight as she raises to meet the suns rays. Rhaenyra swallows down the bile growing in her throat watching as her uncle stares at her with dead eyes before the knights head rolls, stopping down by her feet.

Daemon cleans off the blade on the beheaded mans cloth before kicking the head aside, "If you are here to denounce my actions on behalf of my brother, know that this is me refraining."

"I am not here to lecture you, Kepus (uncle), I am here to say that I feel the same-" Rhaenyra begins to speak, extending her hand to grab the Princes arm who flinches away.

"You had no idea what I feel," Daemon spits back, chest heaving, blood dripping down his chin and running down his neck. He raises his head, closing his eyes to try and not strike down your sister for irritating him with her words, "I have lost her too many times due to my brothers actions, his apparent lack of care and attention-"

"I have lost my sister just as you have your niece! So don't you dare speak of your pain above my own!" The Princess raises her tone, stepping forwards, hands balled into fists down at her sides.

Daemons chuckles are cold and empty as with every long stride he takes, Rhaenyra hastily takes one back down the hall followed by another with every word the Prince speaks, "If I cared for her just as my niece, just as you, than why do I constantly crave her presence? Why do I only know calm with the weight of her in my arms? Why do I ache for her?" The pair soon run out of hall as the Princess finds herself cornered, any initial anger she felt now overcome by her growing fear, "Why do I dream every night to feel the softness of her lips agains mine if she is just my-"

"You love her," Rhaenyra cuts her uncle off with a statement rather than a question. Daemons eyes cast away, his lips pressed, eyes distant. "You truly love her," she repeats again more softly to herself. That is why you never treated me the same... Her heart breaks in seeing the slow single nod she receives, "Then why does father not approve? It would fall in line with family tradition after all...."

Teeth is all she sees as Daemon steps away, spitting on a nearby corpse as he cracks his neck, back turned. "He wants you as queen, Rhaenyra, not your sister, you know that?"

"I do," she raises her head, eyes tracing over his broad shoulders.

"So you must understand, just like your father, that our union would make it easy to challenge you to that title."

Rhaenyra furrows her brow, head tilted in confusion that borders on frustration, "My sister does not want to become Queen though? I do not understand-"

"But he knows I do and so comes the second part..." Daemon turns to face Rhaenyra, "Viserys knows that I will obey whatever he demands of me with your sister as my prize-"

Rhaenyra, "My sister is not a prize to be won," she instinctively spits out, "but if she were to agree to take your hand then why does my father not demand that you don't become king in return?" She questions, starting to play with the end of her braid, eyes squinted as if trying to see the answer she seeks.

"And so now you understand my frustrations, Rhaenyra," Daemon swings his hands outwards before allowing them to drop at his sides, "He can ensure that you will not be dethroned and yet actively chooses not to..." Both royals stare at one another as the smell of copper stings both of their noses.

"There has to be something more to this," Rhaenyra steps around her uncle, walking back up the hall to try and clear her senses of the decomposing corpses that surround them. Daemon watches as she bites her lip, shaking her head slightly before looking around the room.

"If there were..." Daemon takes a few long strides to meet back up with the princess, "...I would have found the answers long ago...."

─────── · ·

A/N: i don't know when i can get the next chapter out but i hope you all enjoyed this one 😊

─ · · DREAMS OF DRAGONS TAGLIST: @blkmystery @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @themoonlitquill @hnslchw @myownevils

[moonlight-joy]

The Dragon’s Defiance

Fandom: House of Dragon

Summary: Queen Alicent Hightower attempted to humiliate you, the pregnant wife of Daemon Targaryen, by summoning you to the throne room in a calculated power play. However, Daemon fiercely defended you, publicly dismantling Alicent’s scheme and forcing King Viserys to intervene in your favor. Alicent’s plan backfired, exposing her desperation and strengthening your bond with Daemon. Together, you stood as an unshakable force, a reminder that dragons bow to no one.

Pairing: Reader/Daemon Targaryen

The Red Keep had always been a maze of whispers and shadows, but since Queen Alicent Hightower had risen to power beside King Viserys, the castle walls seemed alive with sharp ears and sharper tongues. You had lived within these halls long enough to understand how quickly alliances could shift, how loyalty could be traded like coin. Yet, for all the intrigue that surrounded you, you had never let the weight of court life break you.

You were Targaryen, wife to Daemon Targaryen—the Rogue Prince—and mother to his children. For over a decade, your union had weathered storms that would have destroyed others. Now, pregnant with your fourth child, you carried the latest testament to the strength of your bond. But this time, the storm came not from without, but from the very heart of the Red Keep.

The morning had been peaceful, the sun streaming through the windows of your chambers. You reclined on a cushioned chaise, a hand resting on the swell of your belly as you read. The warmth of the fire lulled you into a sense of calm until hurried footsteps interrupted the tranquility. A servant entered, pale and trembling.

“My lady,” the servant began, their voice unsteady, “the Queen requests your presence in the throne room.”

You frowned, sitting up straighter. “In my condition?” you asked, your hand instinctively cradling your belly.

The servant hesitated. “Her Grace insisted, my lady. She wishes to… address you before the court.”

You understood immediately. This was no simple summons; it was a calculated move. A veiled insult. Alicent had always sought ways to assert her power, to remind others that she ruled beside the King. Now, she sought to humiliate you in front of the court as she had done to Rhaenyra years before.

“Fetch my husband,” you said firmly, closing your book. “I will not attend alone.”

Moments later, Daemon entered, his steps deliberate, his expression dark. The servant recounted the Queen’s summons, and as they spoke, you could see the fury building in your husband’s eyes. His jaw clenched, his fists curling at his sides.

“She dares to summon you like this?” Daemon growled. “In your condition?”

“She wishes to make a spectacle,” you replied calmly, though your pulse quickened. “To remind me—and the court—that she is queen.”

A dangerous smile spread across Daemon’s lips, one that never reached his eyes. “Then she will be reminded why I am her greatest threat.”

He helped you to your feet, his hand gentle but unyielding as he guided you. “You will not walk into her trap alone,” he promised. “And if she dares to humiliate you, I will tear her games apart.”

The throne room was filled when you arrived, the weight of countless eyes pressing down on you. But you held your head high, refusing to show any weakness. You were a dragon, and no Hightower would ever make you cower. Your hand rested lightly on Daemon’s arm as he led you into the hall, his presence a shield against the sea of whispers.

Queen Alicent stood near the Iron Throne, draped in green silk that shimmered in the torchlight. Her smile was thin, her eyes sharp as they fixed on you. King Viserys sat upon the throne, his frame frail, his face lined with illness. He looked troubled, his gaze flickering between you and Alicent.

“My lady,” Alicent greeted, her tone sweet but laced with malice. “It is so good of you to join us. I hope the walk was not too taxing in your… delicate state.”

You met her gaze evenly, refusing to rise to the bait. “I am quite capable, Your Grace. Though I admit I was surprised by your summons.”

“It is important for the realm to see the strength of its women,” Alicent said, her voice carrying through the hall. “Just as Princess Rhaenyra demonstrated after the birth of her sons.”

The implication was clear. Alicent wanted you to endure the same humiliation Rhaenyra had suffered years ago, parading yourself before the court mere days after childbirth. It was a calculated move to demean you and remind the court of her power.

Daemon’s low chuckle broke the tension, drawing every eye in the room. “You must be mistaken, Your Grace,” he said, his voice as sharp as Valyrian steel. “My wife is no servant to be paraded before the court like a curiosity.”

Alicent’s smile faltered, but she recovered quickly. “It is a gesture of unity,” she replied, though her tone tightened. “One that would surely be appreciated by the people.”

Daemon stepped forward, his presence consuming the room. “Unity?” he echoed, his voice mocking. “Unity is forged through respect, not humiliation. My wife carries a Targaryen heir. If you think I will allow her to be used as a pawn in your games, you are gravely mistaken.”

A murmur rippled through the court, courtiers exchanging wide-eyed glances as Alicent’s composure slipped. Her cheeks flushed with anger, and her voice rose. “You overstep, Prince Daemon. This is not your decision.”

Daemon’s laugh was cold, his violet eyes darkening with fury. “Everything concerning my wife and child is my decision. And you would do well to remember that.”

The tension in the room reached a breaking point until Viserys raised his hand, his voice weak but firm. “Enough,” he said, silencing the court. “This matter is settled. My daughter-in-law will not be subjected to such treatment.”

Alicent opened her mouth to argue, but Viserys’s glare stopped her. She curtsied stiffly, her expression tight with barely concealed anger. “Of course, Your Grace.”

As you left the throne room, Daemon’s hand remained on your back, his fury palpable. Only when you were alone in your chambers did he let his anger spill over.

“She will pay for this,” he said quietly, his voice cold and dangerous. “Alicent forgets that dragons do not bow.”

“She sought to humiliate me,” you said, placing a hand on his arm. “But she failed. Thanks to you.”

His expression softened, the tension in his shoulders easing as he cupped your face in his hands. “I will not let anyone harm you,” he vowed fiercely. “Not her, not anyone. You are my wife, my queen, and the mother of my children. Let her play her games—I will burn her ambitions to ash if she dares threaten you again.”

You leaned into his touch, your heart swelling with gratitude and love. “We are stronger together,” you said softly. “Let her see that she cannot break us.”

Daemon kissed your forehead, his lips lingering as if to seal his promise. “Together,” he agreed, his voice low and certain. “Always.”

Word of the exchange spread quickly, the whispers echoing through the Red Keep. Alicent’s attempt to assert her dominance had backfired, and even her closest allies began to waver. The queen had sought to humiliate you but instead found herself exposed as desperate and grasping.

Within your chambers, there was peace. Daemon remained vigilant, his protectiveness extending to you and your children. The tension of the court lingered, but in his arms, you felt safe—untouchable. Alicent had underestimated the fire that burned within you and the bond you shared with your husband.

You were a dragon, and dragons did not kneel. Together, you and Daemon would ensure the world remembered that truth.

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[wholoveseggs]

Homecoming

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

{Daemon Targaryen x Reader} You haven't seen your husband since your passionate wedding night, leaving you to doubt his love. Now, three months later, you're round with child and missing him more than ever—until he suddenly returns.

♡♡ This is purely just to get all my daddy Daemon feelings out, I 100% believe he has a breeding kink. ♡♡

3.2k words - Warnings: smut, major breeding kink, slow sex, so so so much fluff, a little bit of angst and Daemon apologizing in bed...

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It was another quiet night, in a bed far too large for one. The wind was gently blowing through the curtains, bringing with it a cool breeze and the smell of the sea. It was late, and everyone was asleep, yet you laid awake, tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep.

You rolled over onto your side, the silk of the sheets sliding against your bare skin. These days, sleep evaded you, no matter how much you tried. If it wasn't your thoughts keeping you up, it was your changing body and the ever growing life inside of you.

Three months ago you had gotten married to the prince Daemon, a dream of many girls across the kingdom. But your marriage was hardly that. The day after the ceremony you woke up in an empty bed, and hadn't seen your husband since, leaving you to wonder if you had done something wrong.

He had left you no letter, no message. Nothing. Only the memory of your wedding night, the way he touched and kissed you, his sweet whispers of adoration as he made you his. On the loneliest days you would close your eyes and remember it all, his lips on yours, the way his fingers caressed you, the feel of him inside you.

You place your hand on the small bump of your stomach, a smile spreading across your lips. Although it had only been one night, he did his duty and you were pregnant. A piece of him was always with you.

But it wasn't enough.

You longed to see him again, to touch him and be held by him, to tell him of the life growing within you. You wanted so desperately to be with him, but instead you were left with the ghost of his love, a memory that wasn't enough to fill the hole in your heart.

You sighed, trying to push away those thoughts, and attempted to fall asleep, but every time you closed your eyes all you could see was his handsome face. You opened them again and sat up, staring into the darkness.

You could see the light of a torch through the cracks of the door, and the sound of footsteps. You knew exactly who it was, the guard outside your door. His shift was almost over, and soon a new one would be out there, watching over you. There was a muffled conversation, and the sound of someone walking away.

A few moments later the door cracked open, and the torch light poured into the room. Your eyes squinted at the sudden brightness, and as the person entered the room they shut the door.

You were about to give your guard a kindly lecture on waking you up when you noticed that it wasn't the guard who had walked in, but a hooded man. You opened your mouth to call for help, but before you could get a sound out he was at your bedside, his hand covering your mouth.

"Don't scream, my love, it's me." He whispered.

You blinked at the voice, your mind taking a second to process what was happening. Your eyes widened, and you reached for his hand. He took it away from your mouth and intertwined your fingers together, his other hand pulling down his hood.

"Daemon." You breathed, looking up at his face.

The torchlight casted a warm glow on his handsome features, highlighting his strong cheekbones and sharp jawline. His hair was longer than the last time you saw him, hanging past his shoulders, his eyes were dark and clever, looking you over with admiration.

You pulled him towards you, your lips crashing into his. He let out a sigh, a sound that sounded almost pained, and returned your kiss. Then you harshly pushed him away, hitting his chest.

"Where have you been?" You demanded.

"I had matters to attend to." He told you.

"Three months!" You cried. "Three months I waited for you, and you were doing what?"

He smiled and pulled off his cloak, his eyes raking over your form. He reached out to cup your cheek, his thumb gently stroking your skin.

You wanted to be angry with him, you really did, but the look he was giving you, like he was starved, melted away your resolve. You leaned into his touch and looked up at him through your lashes, a smile tugging at your lips.

"Asshole," You whispered.

"My love." He whispered back, leaning down and placing a kiss to your forehead.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for another heated kiss. You were angry, yes, but seeing him now made all of that fade away. Your ire could wait until the morning.

His lips were gentle and loving, and you were so happy that you had almost forgotten that he had been gone. He kneeled on the bed and pulled you close, his hands cupping your cheeks.

When he pulled away, you rested your forehead against his, smiling and breathing hard.

"I thought you left me," You admitted, your hands gripping his wrists, as though you could keep him there forever by holding on to him.

He hummed, his nose nuzzling against yours and you pressed yourself closer to him, trying to get as much contact as possible.

His large, warm hands moved down to the swell of your stomach. He placed his palms flat against the bump and leaned back, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Did the maesters tell you?" You asked, placing your hands over his.

He nodded, his eyes lifting up to meet yours. "How are you feeling?" He asked, with such gentle kindness that it made your heart melt.

"Big." You answered, laughing slightly. "I can't wear any of my old clothes, and I have to have new ones made all the time. And the way the ladies look at me when I go out..."

He shook his head, a breathy laugh escaping him, his thumbs caressing your skin. It was true that you had changed since the wedding, your body swelling with his child. You were nervous about how he would react, but the softness in his eyes and the way he touched you told you otherwise.

"I wish I could have told you the news myself, it's a shame you had to hear it from some crusty old maester," you said.

"It is a wonderful thing to return home too," he smiled, leaning forward and pressing his lips against yours.

He kissed you deeply, his arms wrapping around your waist. You smiled into the kiss, your fingers weaving through his long, silver hair. You could feel his lips turn up against yours, and you both pulled away.

He looked at you for a moment, his eyes raking over your features, a smirk tugging at his lips. His hands trailed down your sides, sending a wave of heat through you.

"My prince," you said softly, your fingers brushing along his cheekbone. "We've already made a baby. You don't have to do this."

He laughed, and shook his head, a look in his eyes you couldn't decipher. "I forget just how innocent you are," he said, his hands trailing down to your thighs.

“Well, whose fault is that?” You teased, smiling up at your handsome husband.

You sucked in a breath as he leaned down, his lips trailing kisses along your neck, his teeth grazing over your skin.

"It's true, I've been away for too long, my lady wife has forgotten what it is I crave," he breathed against your skin, his lips finding yours once more.

Your hands slid down his shoulders and arms, feeling his muscles. He pulled back slightly and tugged off his shirt, letting it fall to the floor.

"You have gotten bigger as well," you said, running your hands across his chest, feeling the hard muscles.

He smirked, a cocky gleam in his eyes. "Oh?"

"It suits you," you said, a playful smile on your lips.

His hand came to rest on the side of your neck, his fingers caressing your jaw. His thumb brushed against your bottom lip and he leaned in, capturing your mouth with his.

"And you are more beautiful than the day we wed," he said, his voice husky.

"My prince flatters me." You breathed, a blush rising on your cheeks.

His eyes went to the ties on your nightdress, a row of pretty little bows that went down to the valley of your breasts. He tugged at one of the ribbons, the fabric becoming loose.

He pushed it aside and his hand moved up to caress your breast, his thumb rubbing your nipple, causing you to gasp.

"Still as sensitive." He said, a smirk on his lips.

He leaned down and took your other nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, before gently biting down. You tugged hard on his hair, your legs kicking and squirming as he continued to play with you.

"Daemon," you moaned.

He hummed, the vibration causing a wave of pleasure to wash over you. He let go of your nipple, and his mouth moved lower, placing hot kisses along your skin, his hand pushing up your night dress.

"Perhaps a bit more sensitive." He commented, his hand brushing along your thigh.

He hooked a finger into the waistband of your small clothes and pulled them off. You were now naked, your body on full display for him, and he leaned back and admired his work. His hand on the swell of your belly, his thumb tracing over a stretch mark.

"Beautiful." He said, a sincerity in his voice that made your heart skip a beat.

You looked away, suddenly shy. You had only spent one night with him, and now he was here again. His touch, his words, they all still had an affect on you, making your stomach flutter and heart race.

He leaned down, and pressed a kiss to your bump, his hand resting on the side of it, his lips trailing lower. You smiled softly, and ran your fingers through his hair, the silver strands smooth between your fingers.

His hand came to rest on your thighs, gently coaxing your legs open. You watched as he positioned himself between them, his head almost disappearing behind your bump.

His eyes flickered up to yours, and his smirk was all too knowing, causing you to blush and turn away. He leaned forward, his tongue darting out and licking up your slit.

You gasped, your grip on his hair tightening. He did it again, this time focusing his attention on that sensitive little spot he introduced to you on your wedding night. He placed a soft kiss on it, his tongue circling it.

"Dae-ah," you moaned, trying to muffle the sound by pressing a hand over your mouth.

You didn't know if it was the fact that you were pregnant, or maybe that you missed him more than anything, but everything felt different, his touch more intense.

His hands gripped the backs of your thighs, holding you down as his tongue licked and circled you. His mouth moved down and his tongue slid into you, making you arch and cry out. He lapped at your arousal, his tongue going in and out, the sounds he made, the hums and sighs, driving you wild.

He groaned, a sound that vibrated through your entire body, and his tongue went up, swirling around that little spot again, his mouth closing over it.

You moaned his name, your thighs squeezing him, your whole body trembling as your release washed over you.

He placed a few more kisses to the inside of your thighs before rising up, his hair messy and face glistening with you. He wiped his face with his arm and leaned down, his lips capturing yours.

You could taste yourself on him, and you kissed him hard, your hand tangling into his hair, the other reaching down to the ties of his trousers. He helped you undo them, and kicked off his pants.

His hard length sprung free, and you wrapped a hand around it, causing him to let out a shaky moan. He pressed his forehead against yours, his hand cupping your cheek, and his eyes locking onto yours.

You slowly started to stroke him, and he let out another moan, his eyes fluttering closed, his breath hot against your skin.

"My love," he groaned, his hips thrusting into your hand.

You loved the effect you had on him, the control you had. To have the prince of dragonstone, the most dangerous man in the realm, at the palm of your hand, made your heart flutter.

His hand found yours, and he guided it away from his length, a whine leaving your throat. He chuckled and gave you a quick kiss before positioning himself between your legs.

He slowly pushed himself in, causing you both to moan. It hurt a little, just like the first time, but his hands were on your thighs, his thumb caressing your skin, and he slowly pulled out and pushed back in, letting you adjust.

"My love, I'm not going to break," you said.

He smirked and gave a shallow thrust, a gasp leaving you.

"I can't be too careful with what is mine." He said, leaning down and giving you a heated kiss.

He pulled away and rested his forehead against yours, his hand sliding up the length of your leg, coming to rest on your bump, his other hand planted next to your head, holding himself up.

He started to move, his length slowly sliding in and out, the pace slow and gentle. You could feel every inch of him, rubbing against that perfect spot. A soft moan left you, and you reached out, your hands on his chest, feeling the hand planes of muscle underneath his skin.

His thumb caressed your belly, his eyes never leaving your face, studying every detail, memorizing each feature. You felt so exposed under his gaze and turned away, your cheeks flushed.

He smiled, a soft, loving smile, and kissed you.

"How I've missed you, my beautiful wife," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

You looked up at him, seeing nothing but love in his eyes. It was the way he had looked at you at your wedding, the two of you standing there in the sept, whispering promises to each other. The world had disappeared around you, and in that moment you were the only people that existed.

He kissed you again, and began moving a little faster, the sound of his hips meeting yours filling the room. He groaned, his hand still gently stroking your bump.

"I can't believe such a perfect creature could bear my child," he said, his eyes trailing down to where his hand rested.

"Our child," you corrected, giving him a teasing smile.

He hummed, leaning back and wrapping his arms around your waist and helping you into a sitting position. He pulled you onto his lap, and you moaned at the way he was buried deeper inside you.

His lips left open mouth kisses on your shoulders, and his hands rested on your hips, guiding you. You braced yourself on his shoulders, his hands back on your bump as you moved. You knew he liked the feel of it, and he couldn't get enough.

Your name left his lips as you bounced in his lap, his hands cupping your ass, squeezing you. You moaned, your hands sliding into his hair, tugging at the silver locks. You were growing louder, your body humming, that feeling building within you.

"Not too loud, my love," he whispered. "I do not wish for the guards to hear,"

A moan, that was halfway to a laugh escaped you, and he cut it off with a deep kiss. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, as you kept moving, the feeling of your release building.

"For your lovely sounds are only for me," he continued, his voice in your ear.

You let out another shaky moan, his hands squeezing you. He was moving his hips to meet yours, and you could feel him shaking beneath you. His hands gripped your hips tighter, and pulled you harder, his voice soft yet commanding as he talked you closer to your peak.

Your hands gripped his arms and back, and when he said your name, a deep, low groan that sounded almost pained, you toppled over the edge, falling in a pool of ecstasy. All the pent up emotions and frustration that you had been holding in were released, and you let go of a final moan that you muffle in the crook of his neck.

He followed soon after, capturing your lips in a heated kiss and letting out a deep, satisfied moan. You clung to him, afraid that he might disappear if you didn't. His arms were wrapped around your middle, cradling you close to him, his lips pressed to your temple.

The two of you breathed in each other's air, a simple shared breath, your foreheads pressed together, your eyes closed. You could feel his lips on your sweat slicked skin, his fingertips still caressing your bump.

When you both had returned to your senses, he gently laid you back on the bed. He leaned down, the tip of his nose nuzzling against yours, and peppered your face with little kisses. You smiled and let your eyes flutter open, finding him staring at you, a sweet, lovestruck look in his eye.

He grabbed the blanket, and covered your naked form with it, tucking it around you, almost protectively. He crawled under with you,his head resting against your chest, his hand still protectively cradling the swell of your stomach.

You wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and ran your fingers through his hair, smiling. He looked up at you, his eyes sleepy, and he pressed a kiss to your bump.

"I hope it's a boy," you said, continuing to stroke his hair. "With the most handsome features, and a true warrior, like his father."

"Mm," he hummed, his eyes closing, and his arms wrapping around your waist. "I hope it is a girl, a daughter that looks just like her mother."

He was silent for a moment, and you wondered if he had fallen asleep, when his eyes suddenly opened.

"Or perhaps both," he said, his voice serious, a glimmer of something in his eyes.

"Twins?" You laughed. "I don't think I could handle two little dragons running about."

He chuckled, his fingers drawing lazy circles on your skin. "I will be here to help you," he said, his eyes meeting yours. "I am not going anywhere."

"You better not," you warned, poking his chest. "You've kept me waiting long enough."

He laughed again and caught your wrist, bringing your finger to his lips and placing a gentle kiss there. He slid his arms back around you, and pulled you close, your foreheads touching, your noses brushing.

You were content, your heart filled with so much love for him, and as his breathing evened out and his eyelids drooped, you knew he felt the same. You drifted off to sleep, dreaming of what was to come. Of a big family, a happy life, and many more nights just like this one. 

[maidragoste]

Scare

Daemon Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader

More of Daemon's Wife AU

Summary: You and Daemon get a scare at Laenor's wedding.

Reblogs, comments and likes are always greatly appreciated. comments always motivate me to continue writing 💖💖

If you have ideas or thoughts for this series you are welcome to share them in my inbox 🤭

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

Daemon is not usually afraid, after all, he is a Targaryen, he has the blood of the dragon, he is "The Rogue Prince", he claimed Caraxes, he fought in tourneys, he was the leader of the golden cloaks and he fought in the war of the Stepstones. A fearful man couldn't do any of that.

But today he really felt afraid at Laenor's wedding. One moment he was talking to his cousin Rhaenys and then the screams were heard. Both of them quickly went on alert and Daemon began to look around the room for you because minutes before you had left the table to dance with one of your cousins. But the prince couldn't find you. Daemon couldn't remember ever feeling so desperate as he tried to get through the crowd of guests to get to you. Irritation grew in him every time someone bumped into him making it harder to find you. Then he finally saw you and got to the reason for all the fuss. Criston Cole was hitting your brother's lover without stopping and a few meters away you were. Daemon saw the determination in your eyes and began to call out to you, but you didn't hear him over the screams of the other guests or you decided to ignore him as you made your way to Criston Cole. You were barely able to hold on to one of the guard's arms before he pushed you away and you ended up on the floor. If it wasn't for Daemon's fear of you and the baby then he would have gone and cut off Criston Cole's fucking head for daring to touch you. But at that moment your husband's priority was the safety and well-being of you and the baby so he took you in his arms and carried you out of that damn wedding while you screamed for Laenor and Joffrey.

Now Daemon and you were alone in his chambers, the maester having left a few minutes ago after assuring the two that the baby was fine.

“I’m fine” you reminded your husband as he remained silent, probably thinking of everything that could have gone wrong. “We’re fine” you took his hand and placed it on your belly despite the baby not kicking yet.

Daemon caressed your belly before leaning down to place a kiss on it, thanking his son for being strong. “You were reckless” he scolded you, turning his attention back to you.

“I was,” you agreed, feeling guilty for not thinking about the baby, but at that moment, all you could think about was helping your brother and Joffrey. You couldn’t stand by and watch them get beaten. But the adrenaline of the moment was wearing off and you were starting to feel overwhelmed by the situation you were in. “I’m sorry. I never wanted to put our baby in danger.”

Daemon’s serious expression fell the instant he saw your eyes begin to fill with tears. If there was one thing he hated, it was seeing you cry.

“Hey, don't cry.” He took your face in his hands and began to tenderly caress your cheeks. “You said it, you're fine and you heard the maester, the baby is fine.” He kissed your forehead. “But if you're so worried about putting yourself and the baby in danger again, then I could lock you in our chambers until you give birth.” Of course he wasn't serious, but he succeeded in his purpose of distracting you.

“Of course you'd like to do that, you want to have me just for you.” A small smile appeared on your lips as you spoke.

“I'm not going to deny it, you know I don't like sharing you with the rest of the world, wife.”

You didn't know if it was Daemon or you who was the first to capture the other's lips. But it didn't matter, what mattered was that for a moment while you kissed and touched each other you were able to forget about the scare you experienced. Daemon and you took refuge in each other's warmth, ready to not let the night end bitterly.

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[n0cturnalp1g]

Blood of My Blood

Summary: An argument ends with the death of a lord and a husband enraged. Characters: Daemon Targaryen x Female!Reader!Hightower. Ormund Hightower Word Count: 1,291 Chapter Warnings: Not Edited. Mention of Violence and Death. Hints of Misogyny and Patriarchy (ew!).

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

“Stupid child.”

You closed your eyes and ignored the words that escaped your Uncle’s lips. It wasn’t your error but of Gwayne’s but you didn’t want him to deal with your Uncle Ormund’s wrath, you could take it better than him, knowing you will be leaving after all was said and done–unlike him.

“The reports you’ve provided weren’t sufficient enough.” You said looking straight at him daring him to say otherwise. “Or do you want me to elaborate how this is more your fault than it is mine?”

You clenched your hands together when he threw the parchment right onto your face. Your Uncle hated to be undermined and you loved to get under his skin whatever means necessary. He was no better than your father, the only thing he had that you father didn’t was being the eldest son–nothing more, nothing less. As cruel and neglectful as your father was, he knew how to live and how to work, something Ormund did not inherit for his own use.

“Are we done, Uncle?”

“You are to address me as your Lord. Or have you forgotten your place already?”

“As far as I remember, I do not have a place here, you’ve made a point to constantly state as such, My Lord.”

“What place should a woman like you have under my ward? Constantly disrespecting me and my rules.”

“I am the wife of a Prince, by marriage and by reputation, I am now of a higher standing and position compared to you, Uncle.”

You refused to acknowledge your marriage and the power and reputation of your new husband, but at this moment of time, you had no other choice.

“Is that what you father made you believe?” He cackled, earning a shiver down your spine. “You and Alicent are nothing more than whore for the sake of the family name. If it means selling you to the Targaryens for the sake of power.”

At the mention of your sister, you snapped. Your left hand was burning, but the satisfying echo of your hand slapping your uncle’s cheek was worth it. What came next made it even more so when he slapped you right back before his hand gripped onto your hair.

Before the gasp could escape your lips, his other hand found its way around your neck, cutting air from your lungs and cutting what little chance of help you could muster in your state.

“Pathetic that you think you could even touch me, you wretched woman!” He spat. “You and your sister think you are above me and my reign? But you are nothing more than meat offered to dragons, your sister will most likely die the same death as the King’s first wife and you will have the same fate as your husband’s first wife!”

“I can have your tongue cut for your words against my sister and our husbands.” You were barely able to threaten, but it was enough to earn a cackle from the man.

Cruel, this was what you’ve always hated about being in Oldtown. Of the abuse that your father will never know and you had forced your brother never to admit to anyone. You were simply called the Wretched Hightower for you constantly going against the grain and it constantly ended with you being punished for it, accepting even the punishment that was meant for your brother and sister if it meant protecting them from the harsh treatment you were constantly enduring.

“I want to see you try, you whore.”

You could feel the black spots lingering in your sight before it was replaced with red instead. Splatters of blood that sprayed onto the air and eventually painted your face–before you met with the half of your Uncle’s head decapitated.

The hands holding you finally loosen and you were met with the sight of your husband, with sheer fury in his eyes as he held onto his sword. His lilac eyes looked down at the now fallen Lord Hightower before turning his gaze to you.

“Are you alright?”

You did not know what possessed you in this moment, but the tears finally fell. For the first time, someone had defended you against your Uncle. You found yourself wrapped gently in your husband’s arms as he soothed you in your sobs.

“Let’s go home.” He whispered gently pulling you away from him, his bent forwards to look right at you, his hands wiping away the blood that lingered on your face.

Even with the blood that completely painted his face, you saw him in a different light. It scared you that someone like him would act so gentle with you after committing murder–it was his duty to protect you it seems, whatever means necessary.

Before you could nod, the scream from one of the servants had you turn, but was pulled right back into the arms of Daemon, as his sword was lifted pointed threateningly towards the shaken servant.

“Your Lord has spoke ill of the King and the Queen and I have refused to keep him alive after he raised his hand at my wife.” Daemon spoke boldly. “Now have this cleaned up.” He barked as the servant immediately left leaving the two of you alone once again.

“Let’s go back.” You whispered finally finding your voice finally.

“Let’s pack your things and have you cleaned up.” He smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. “We don’t want to have Caraxes reject you for smelling like that cunt of a Hightower.”

“Hey!” You protested offended now.

“You are now under the house of Targaryen, and I will be damned if I allow you to ever use the Hightower name ever again.”

~

“Fuck.” You winced, licking your lips and feeling the sting on your busted lips.

“It will heal.” Daemon spoke from behind you.

For everything that had happened, the last thing you would have ever expected to do in your lifetime was riding an actual dragon with your husband. The same husband that just hours ago sliced off half of your own Uncle’s head as revenge for raising his hand at you.

Now you were both heading back to the Red Keep. But after everything that has happened and the repercussions that you were certain you would have to face, you would rather just ran away all over again–even if it meant jumping a thousand feet off the dragon that somehow earned a fixation over you since your husband insisted on your patting on the monster’s nose.

“You will say nothing, do nothing when you are questioned of your Uncle’s demise. I will ensure your honor and your innocence in the matter.” He spoke as if reading  your mind.

“Why would you do that?” You couldn’t help but question him turning to look back at him and you were met with the familiar smirk on his lips.

“Because you are my wife and because it is my sole mission to be as much of a nuisance to your father as humanly possible.”

At the mention of your father, you didn’t know what possessed you but you found yourself laughing at the hilarity of what you would return to. The shock and the fury that was certain your father would be in after your husband, the man he loathes the most, had killed his brother, who just so happens to be Lord of Oldtown–a real power vacuum now with Ormund Hightower not having a viable heir to replace him with no living heirs to replace him.

“I’m glad you found amusement in all of this.”

You didn’t but after what had happened, it was the only coping you could do for every single thing that was going wrong in your life and your family.

[happilyhertale]

My dragoness – Daemon Targaryen x fem!niece!reader

Summary: Weeks have passed since the announcement of your betrothal to your Uncle Daemon. Since then, hardly a night has gone by without Daemon visiting you - without disregarding your wish not to take the final step yet. But tonight, on your wedding night, you will finally be fully his.

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!niece!reader

Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; Fingering, sex (p in v), breeding kink, size kink, loss of virginity

Author’s note: English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

This is another part of my Shared Future series.

x3 When @targaryen-dynasty asked me if I would like to participate in celebrating her 3K follower milestone, of course I agreed x3

Some have asked for another part for the Shared Future series, which is why I'm celebrating Laura's milestone with this story.

I hope you enjoy it!

Word count: 2.5 k

Other stories of mine

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Your eyes are closed and your shaky breath echoes in the chambers. The rooms that you will share with your husband from now on.

The ceremony seems only distant in your memory and now so surreal as you lie here on this bed. How all eyes were on you when your eyes only looked into your uncle's. How you couldn't suppress a grin when you recognised the slightest smile around his lips. How he gently cupped your cheek with his rough hand before enveloping your lips with his…

"Hey... open your eyes," you hear Daemon say - almost softly.

You obey him and your eyes slowly open. The scenery shoots in on you as you lie on the bed in just your nightgown, your husband standing in front of the bed, looking at you, slowly opening his shirt.

"That's better," he says gently and smiles at you.

You don't know why you're so nervous. He's seen you naked countless times, driven you to ecstasy with his touch. But this time it's different, it's your wedding night.

He slowly approaches you as he slowly opens his trousers. Your fingers fiddle with the hem of your nightgown as you try to breathe more calmly. Without looking at him, you hear his trousers slide down.

Daemon's eyes linger on you. He takes in every nervous twitch and quickened breath and he moves closer.

"There's no need to be nervous. I've seen every inch of you, explored every curve, and tasted your sweet surrender. Tonight, we seal our union, and I will show you just how much you belong to me," he purrs, his voice low and seductive, "It will be special," his soft voice sounds and you hear the words you whispered to him countless nights ago.

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you feel a mix of anticipation and excitement bubbling within you. You know that Daemon is a man of passion and intensity, and tonight, he intends to leave his mark on you in more ways than one.

Daemon's eyes flicker with a mixture of amusement and possessiveness as he watches you fidget and nervously avoid his gaze.

He reaches out, his hand gently caressing your cheek before trailing down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. His touch is both tender and possessive, a contrast that only adds to the intensity of the moment. His fingers curl around the hem of your nightgown, slowly lifting it up, revealing your body to him in all its vulnerability.

You feel the mattress give way as Daemon kneels on the bed. You look up and your purple Targaryen eyes meet. A gasp leaves your lips as his hand brushes across your thigh, gently grasping the underside of it and spreading your thighs slightly - his rough hand, a stark contrast to your soft skin. His other hand slides to your face, his index finger and thumb cupping your chin, lifting your head slightly.

"Look at me... focus on me..." he whispers and you nod slightly as you look into his eyes. Carefully, he pushes your legs apart as he kneels between them. His lips glide over your cheek, over your neck, while his hand slides further up your thigh.

Your eyes flutter shut as you concentrate fully on his touch. His warm breath glides over your skin as his lips caress you. The sweetest moan escapes your lips as his fingers grip your inner thigh.

"That's my girl... concentrate on my touch..." he whispers against your skin. You nod slightly again and gasp as his fingers cup your folds - you'll never get tired of this feeling. Slowly, his fingers move, smearing the wetness along your folds. His fingers find your sensitive bud, light circular movements follow and as if of their own accord your hips move to follow their movement.

Daemon follows your movements, sliding his fingers to your soaked opening, applying light pressure. His fingertips are literally sucked in and a mewling sound comes from your lips. You exhale heavily, his fingers thrust deeper, your eyes still closed.

Daemon's lips curl into a smug smile as he watches your reactions, relishing in the way you respond to his touch. He takes pleasure in knowing that he can easily bring you to the edge with just his fingers alone.

His fingers continue their exploration, sliding in and out of your wetness, gradually increasing the depth and pace of his thrusts. He watches as your hips buck against his hand, seeking more of the pleasure he's giving you.

"You're so wet... I don't even really need to work to get inside you," Daemon murmurs and you blush slightly, but your moans don't let up.

"Open your eyes" he whispers, "I want you to watch as I prepare you for me. See how wet and ready you are for my cock."

As you obey again, your eyes meeting his, Daemon's fingers quicken their pace, delving deeper into your core. He revels in the way your breath hitches, your body trembling with anticipation.

"Such a good girl," he murmurs, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "You're ready for me, aren't you? You want my cock inside you, filling you completely."

You blush even more - you know that Daemon loves to fill your mind with filthy words. Even if they have the desired effect on you, you can't help but blush.

But suddenly you feel him pull his fingers out of you and a soft whimper leaves you. You feel your nerves again as you look down and see him pulling down his undergarments. You've seen his manhood many times before, on the nights he's visited you - but this is different.

His length is released and you gasp slightly - it's never seemed so big to you, so thick. His hand slides along his throbbing length and you hear him grunt slightly.

"Daemon... this... this won't fit..." you suddenly whisper nervously and your hand slides to his arm.

Daemon smiles, still pumping his hardness.

"Hey... look at me," he whispers again and you look up. But then he kisses you, wrapping his lips around yours, swallowing your doubts.

The kiss is filled with a hunger that ignites a fire deep within you. His hand roams your body, claiming every inch, as if marking you as his territory. The intensity of his touch, the way he dominates your senses, leaves you breathless and wanting more.

"It will fit... we will make it fit... It will hurt at first, but the reward will be all the better," he whispers against your lips. You can't help but nod as he slides the tip of his hardness through your folds.

Your eyes flutter shut and you inhale sharply. Your fingers dig into his skin as his length presses against your pearl. Again your hips move towards him, seeking more of that touch.

Daemon looks down, between your bodies, watching closely as your wetness and his precum mingle. His growl echoes through the chambers. You concentrate fully on the sensation as he guides its length to your entrance.

Slowly he pushes forward and you feel the pressure as his manhood tries to penetrate you. A slight whimper leaves you as your heat envelops his tip. He growls slightly, senses your tightness and starts to move slowly.

"You're doing great..." he whispers in your ear, gently kissing your cheek as he pushes further. You feel the pressure, biting your lip as he impales you on his hot length. The feeling of him stretching you, filling you, is overwhelming. Your walls clench around him, trying to accommodate to his size. Daemon's pace is slow and deliberate, relishing in the tightness and warmth of your core.

But Daemon still feels a lot of resistance, he's nowhere near all the way in yet.

"Love... it's going to hurt for a moment now... but it has to be," he whispers and your eyes open again, looking at him. You whimper, but you nod slightly. He leans his forehead against yours, lets his nose slide gently along yours before kissing you softly again. His rhythmic movements don't let up as his tongue searches for yours and you moan slightly.

When suddenly he thrusts and you cry out as the sharp pain runs through your abdomen. He swallows your cry, his hand on your hip as his thick length works you open. "Uncle Daemon..." you whimper into his mouth as he slides in and out.

"I know..." he whispers, but he keeps moving. The pain slowly subsides. Your cunt, clenching around his cock in protest, slowly gives way. He feels the fluttering of your walls and closes his eyes briefly.

"Gods you feel so good," he growls. Slight mewling sounds leave your lips as your hips begin to move with him. He smiles at you, "That's my girl," he whispers a little breathlessly as his hips move faster. He can feel you soaking his cock, your pleasure increasing, and it spurs him on.

His thrusts get harder as he tries to bury himself completely inside you. He revels in the feeling of your tightness around him, the way you yield to his every thrust. Moans escape you now as your hands grip his upper arms. His hand still on your hip, holding you in place.

He watches your face, observing every flicker of pleasure that crosses your features. His grip tightens on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin, marking you as his.

"You're so tight, so wet," his voice filled with a mix of satisfaction and hunger. "You were made for me... Made to be filled by me," he grunts as he feels the tight grip of your cunt.

You are completely overwhelmed by the sensation as your cunt is fully stretched. You feel his balls slapping against you with every thrust and you whimper. His grunts echo through your chambers as he feels the continuous spasming of your wet walls. His eyes drift down again, seeing his glistening length disappear into your perfect womanhood again and again - the moment he's been waiting for so long, finally fulfilled.

He looks at your face again, sensing your impending climax - your eyes closed, your lips slightly parted as you try to follow his movements. Your noises a mixture of moans and whimpers. His hand slides to your abdomen, pressing lightly against it. He wants to feel his hot length sliding into you, bringing you to climax.

His thumb begins to tease your bud as he thrusts harder and faster into you. You cry out slightly, but you can feel the pressure in your abdomen. Your fingernails dig deeper into his skin as he pumps in and out, his thumb rubbing faster.

"Come for me... Soak my cock, suck up my seed..." he growls in your ear and you moan again. You open your eyes and look into his - blown wide with lust.

As your climax approaches, Daemon's pace quickens, his thrusts growing more powerful. He can feel the walls of your core tightening around him, signaling your imminent release.

With one final powerful thrust, he plunges deep within you, his cock pulsating as he finds his own release. The sensation of him emptying himself inside you pushes you over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave.

You moan out, your walls milk his cock and he grunts loudly. He watches your face contort with pleasure as moan after moan leaves your lips while your warm walls spasm around him. He's never seen anything so perfect - you're finally his.

He leans down, kisses you, swallows your moans of pleasure.  His hips move more slowly as you come sliding back to reality from the veil of lust.

When his movements slow down completely, he releases the kiss. You can still feel him inside you, his nose slides gently along yours, you see him smile slightly.

"Are you all right?" he whispers a little breathlessly. You just nod and a breathless "Okay," leaves his lips. You whimper slightly in protest as he slowly pulls out of you. His length glistening with a mixture of your fluids. He watches you, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and satisfaction, before leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

In this moment, there is no one else but the two of you, lost in the aftermath of your shared passion. Your bodies are entwined, your souls connected in a way that words cannot describe.

Your heavy breathing echoes in your chambers as he slowly releases the kiss, his gaze travelling down your body as he leans back.

His gaze is fixed on your womanhood and you feel something unfamiliar dripping out of you. Your hand instinctively wants to slide between your legs, but you only notice a slight shake of his head before he stops your hand. His other hand slides to your folds and slowly he pushes his fingers inside you, but you are overstimulated, your hips jerk back slightly.

"Don't," he whispers, "My seed must stay inside you.... I want a perfect heir to grow inside you"

You blush slightly, but his fingers slowly slide inside you, pushing the seed deeper inside you. Your eyes flutter shut slightly as you surrender to this feeling.

Daemon's eyes darken with possessiveness as he watches your reactions, his fingers still buried deep inside you. He can feel the wetness and warmth around his digits, evidence of the pleasure he has brought you. The thought of his seed filling you, the possibility of creating an heir, sends a surge of pride through him.

His thumb brushes against your sensitive pearl, eliciting a shudder from your body. He can sense your sensitivity, the overstimulation that threatens to overwhelm you. But he doesn't stop, his fingers continuing their relentless assault on your pleasure.

"You're mine… My dragoness" he murmurs, his voice low and almost commanding. "And I will fill you with my seed until you bear me a child. You will be the mother of my heir“

Daemon watches you, his fingers still buried deep inside you. His fingers move faster, his thumb pressing harder against your clit. He can feel the tension building within you, your body on the precipice of another climax. He wants to take you there, to see you come undone in his arms once more.

As the waves of pleasure begin to build once again, you can feel his fingers curling inside you, hitting that sweet spot that sends sparks of ecstasy coursing through your body. It's almost too much to bear, the pleasure threatening to consume you.

And as your moans fill the air, your body convulsing around his fingers, he knows he has succeeded. He watches with satisfaction as your pleasure washes over you, your walls clenching around his fingers. In his mind, your precious womb sucks up his seed with every contraction.

Finally he slowly pulls his fingers out of you – a mixture of his seed and your arousal covers his fingers. He smiles and collapses next to you on the bed, his breathing still heavy and laboured.

He looks at you, his eyes glowing with satisfaction. You smile almost shyly before his arm wraps around your middle and pulls you closer. He buries his face in your hair, inhaling your scent. His fingers glide gently over your abdomen as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear - your heavy breathing and light giggles fill the air.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

[tomriddleslovergirl]

House of the Dragon Incorrect Quotes

Aemond: If we don’t get out of this alive… If we’re both about to die… I love you, y/n! *Neither of you die* You: … Aemond: … You: So do you wanna talk about somethi- Aemond: No thank you.

Aegon: Why should I make my bed, when I'm just gonna unmake it to sleep in it anyways? Alicent: Why should I feed you if you're just gonna die anyways? Aegon: Aegon: I'll go make my bed-

You: Aegon won’t wake up, what do I do? Aemond: Did you try kicking him? You: Yes. Aemond: I’m out of ideas.

You: Your Honor, I hereby submit the following to the court: You: Aegon, what the actual FUCK?

Aemond: Y/n, I am nothing if not a man of principle. Aemond: Now let’s break into this apartment.

Daemon: I'm a reverse necromancer. You: Isn't that just killing people? Daemon: Ah, technicality.

Aegon: I was arrested for being too cool. Aemond: The charges were dropped due to a lack of supporting evidence.

You: I want to wake up with you every day for the rest of our lives Aemond: I wake up at 4:30 AM You: You: I want to see you at some point every day for the rest of our lives

Aegon: Change is inedible. Aemond: Don't you mean inevitable? Aegon, spitting out coins: No, I did not.

Aemond: What the fuck is wrong with you?! Aegon: Wow, you could start with a 'good morning'. Aemond: Good morning. What the fuck is wrong with you?!

You: We’re getting married, bitches! Daemon: And we're about to make it everybody else's problem.

Aegon, struggling to keep upright in his 1 inch heels: Yeah, I-I don’t really think heels are for me Rhaenyra, pointing at them and walking flawlessly in sparkly golden 6 inch heels: WEAK.

[venusbyline]

Rumors ࿐ྂ Kinktober. 24, oct.

(late post)

— pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen x daughter-in-law!reader x Daemon Targaryen

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

— kink: threesome FFM

— summary: If Jacaerys Velaryon would be unfaithful by cheating on you with his cousin, then you would be mean too. You would cheat on him with his own mother and his uncle-stepfather.

— word count: 3.4k

— tags/warnings: kinktober 24th day, female!reader, Alicent Hightower's younger sister!reader, Jacaerys Velaryon's betrothedl!reader, threesome (female/female/male), throuple, Targcest (uncle/niece), Daemyra, dubcon, nipple licking, nipple play, breast worship, praise kink, fingering, breastfeeding, lactation kink, overstimulation, corruption kink, dry humping, dry orgasm, crying, dacryphilia, oral mentioned (male & female receiving), voyeurism, age gap (older man/younger women & older woman/younger man mentioned), ambiguous/open ending, implied/referenced cheating, consensual infidelity, Queen!Rhaenyra, King Consort!Daemon, fluff and hurt/comfort, marriage of convenience, forced marriage, almost everyone lives, Targaryens being a happy family (or something like that), virgin!reader, Jacaerys is a little shit, minor Jacaerys Velaryon x reader, minor Jacaerys Velaryon x Baela Targaryen, referenced Targaryen/Velaryon Incest (cousins), religious guilt, underage marriage, implied underage sex, bisexual!Rhaenyra, bisexual(?)!reader, cuckold!Daemon, book canonical ages (it's 129 AC: Reader's 22, Rhaenyra's 32, Daemon's 48, Jacaerys' 15), dom!Rhaenyra, dom!Daemon, sub!reader, canon divergence (No Dance of the Dragons/War for Succession), porn with plot. no use of y/n. english is not my first language.

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

— crossposting: AO3

It took Rhaenyra weeks to convince Daemon to agree to marry his nephew-stepson to Alicent's younger sister. Daemon did not know anything about you, nor did Rhaenyra know much about you, really. All they knew was that Otto Hightower had a youngest daughter from his second and current marriage to a random Lady in King's Landing.

When Alicent suggested the betrothal, Daemon immediately became furious. He did not want the next Iron Throne's King married with a fucking Hightower again. It was enough for Alicent to be a pain in his ass all those years. He did not need another girl with red hair and big eyes filling his patience.

For Rhaenyra, her biggest concern was the age difference, even though it was not a big deal. You and her half-brother, Aegon II, were conceived at the same time, as Alicent and her stepmother became pregnant within a few weeks of each other. Aegon was born just three days before you, but even so, you always lived in the shadow of all your other family members. Otto preferred for you to be raised in Oldtown along with his new wife and his other children when he lost his position as Hand of the King. Then, since you was two years old in 109 AC, you grew up far from the Red Keep and from your half-sister Alicent new family. Rhaenyra knew nothing about you, even though Alicent had assured you that her sister was a maiden and a kind young Lady. All she remembered about you was your young baby's version, the few times she saw you on Alicent's stepmother's lap. But Rhaenyra was always worried about more important things than watching a little girl crying.

At first, Rhaenyra considered marrying her firstborn to Helaena, Alicent's only daughter, but the proposal was immediately rejected by the older woman. Rhaenyra had her suspicions about the reasons, but preferred not to bring up the subject. One of Daemon's twin daughters could even be a great choice, but Baela was too impulsive for her own good and she knew that Lucerys was already in love with Rhaena. You had been the last and easiest choice for that deal, in the end.

Convincing Daemon seemed almost impossible and required a lot of sex as a form of emotional blackmail. However, in the end, the betrothal had been finally agreed.

Your arrival at King's Landing felt like a dream. You did not remember anything there and every moment in the carriage made you smile watching the streets. Rhaenyra had been crowned the Queen just a few weeks ago and the city was divided between lively festivals and people grumbling about your nephew and Queen's half-brother, Aegon, deserve to be the true heir. Despite the criticism from the commoners, Aegon was not bothered at all, because as soon as you got off the carriage, he was the first to take your hand, surprising you by mistaking him for some kind of beggar, due to the strong smell of wine - even that he was extremely beautiful.

"My sweet aunt! It is a pleasure to see you again. Last time we saw each other, we were both just snotted and whiners little babies." His greetings were terrible and you found yourself giggling sheepishly while the rest of the family looked at the Prince with shame.

"Oh, my thanks, My Prince." You smiled lightly, your cheeks flushing when Aegon gave you a look up and down before kissing the top of your hand.

"No more formalities now, darling. Just nephew or Aegon. Do not forget that you are the next Queen Consort of Westeros..." He scoffed, before looking at his family members. "At least if Jace does not back out of the marriage or order you a tragic murder."

His sentence caught you off guard and you furrowed your eyebrows with bewilderment, but Alicent pulled her son away from you, forcing a frightening normality as she hugged you, the green velvet dress matching her dark red hair perfectly. "Oh, how beautiful you look, little sister. The years living in Oldtown have done you so much good."

You faked a smile. "It is a cool place, and Gwayne is great company too." You said without think too much and Alicent frowned. She missed her brother and still remained upset about the fact that he had not come to visit her many years ago. "However, I believe King's Landing will be so welcoming as my own home."

Your words were directed towards the Queen and King Consort, who came out of their brief trance and nodded, approaching along with Alicent. You bowed to them both, careful not to trip over your light pink velvet dress. It had been a piece chosen by your ladies-in-waiting. You were not sure if it was a good color choice, considering everyone there wore just red, black, or green clothes.

Daemon Targaryen's gaze trailed down your figure, taking in your youthful curves and the delicate neckline that hugged your breasts. His laryngeal prominence made a funny move after he looked away and Rhaenyra seemed to notice this too, because she looked at her husband with some amusement shining in her violet eyes. You observed her facial features, especially her nose, so beautiful and pointed that it left your legs shaking for a few moments, before Rhaenyra herself broke the silence.

"And it is a pleasure to have you here with us. We will host you until all the details of your wedding ceremony with my firstborn son Jacaerys are finalized in a maximum of two moons."

Daemon interrupted both of you when you were about to thank her. "That is almost sixty days. We should start preparing everything as soon as possible." The King Consort spoke to Rhaenyra, earning a stern look from his wife before she sighed, turning to the same spot Aegon had faced earlier. "Anyway, it will be amazing to have you here with us, our dear daughter-in-law."

Daemon's words did not sound innocent at all and both you and Rhaenyra noticed that, his side smile after kissing your hand brought you shivers than when it was Aegon who kissed your skin, especially when Rhaenyra returned Daemon's smirk, clearing her throat and introduce yourself to the other members.

By the end of the night, you had already met almost everyone. Lucerys, Rhaenyra's second son, was sweet and gentle, also very funny. Rhaena, one of Daemon's daughters from his second marriage, was also kind and despite being quieter, her eyes were always shining at Lucerys. Joffrey was quite messy and they had to send him to the chambers along with his younger brothers, Aegon III, Viserys II and his newborn sister Visenya and his cousins Jaehaerys, Jaehaera and Maelor.

Aemond, one of Alicent's youngest children, was too quiet and a little weird. You had already heard the rumors about Lucerys taking out one of his uncle's eyes during a violent fight when everyone was just kids, and that was why he wore an eye patch. It was scary but so fucking attractive at the same time.

Helaena, your half-sister's only daughter, was one of the cutest people you had ever met. She had given you a wooden toy as a way of welcoming you and tried to start a conversation with you, which surprised Alicent and even Rhaenyra, since the princess did not was used to interact with the family more than the necessary. Even though she does not like being touched, she did not mind about touching your hair and praising your red strands, smiling and talking about her favorite bugs and random cute things.

Daeron was a better version of Aegon. He was very handsome, daring and liked drinking wine a lot, as well as loving winking at you and the servants who passed by. But unlike Aegon, Daeron was charming without overstep anyone's boundaries, while Aegon had to be removed from the banquet early when he started mocking and insinuating rumors about Jacaerys and Baela's absence, which angered Daemon and Rhaenyra and embarrassed Alicent and your father Otto.

When the dinner was over, Jacaerys and Baela still had not appeared. Rhaenyra sighed, looking with some frustration at Daemon, who tried to explain to you that Jace and Baela were probably flying with their dragons and forgot today was your arrival day at the Red Keep. You knew your father-in-law was lying, so you just replied him with a sad smile in agreement, not wanting to cause any more drama to the already catastrophic situation.

You had pictured that Jacaerys did not want to be betrothed to you. After all, no one liked arranged marriages. However, you at least expected him to try faking sympathy, since everyone said he was a noble Prince, despite being so young.

Alicent volunteered to take you to your private chambers and you almost accepted, before you felt Rhaenyra's warm and firm hand on your shoulder, not in a painful way but almost possessive. Your sister did not question the Queen's silent interruption, just sighing and nodding, letting Rhaenyra lead you through the corridors, her right arm entwined around your left arm. You felt tiny around her, not about physical terms. It was a painful inferiority. You had not even married her son yet and you were already listening rumors about his affair with another woman. His cousin.

"You were a little bit quiet and shy during the dinner..." The Queen's murmur echoed into your chambers when both of you entered the room and she dismissed the help of the maids. "I mean... You had a lot of fun talking to my half-sister Helaena, which I personally found charming from you. Many people do not have patience to deal with her exotic personality. I am glad you noticed her pure soul."

Your only action was to silently agree, your eyes wandering around the large room that was now just for you. At least for now, until you and Jacaerys finally got married and shared your chambers. Anyway, after the whispers during dinner, you did not doubt that the heir would want also to keep the two of you private chambers. After all, he seemed much more interested by flying with Baela Targaryen. Or anything like that.

"My honest apologies for my son's absence and poor manners..." The Queen began, breaking you out of your trance when you were reflecting and observing the delicate and pink details in the room, although it also had a few green decorations, to remind you of your Hightower House, but with light tones to match the overall aesthetic. "Jace is... Having trouble accepting your union. Not that it is something against you, I assume."

"I already understand, Your Grace." You said coldly, feeling your head ache as you realized you needed to hear your own mother-in-law talk about her son's lack of interest in you.

Rhaenyra raised an eyebrow at your slight irritation, checking to see if the door was locked before pointing to the bed at the back of the chambers. It was much bigger than the one you had in Oldtown, and the pink silk sheets were much fluffier than the white ones your family's maids always brought you. You felt Rhaenyra's gaze following you when you walked to the edge of the furniture, finally sitting down and looking at her with a look of curiosity and suspicion. After continuing to watch you for a few minutes, Rhaenyra cleared her throat and approached, the smell of wine filling your nostrils as she sat down next to you, not too close to invade your personal space, but close enough to make you rub one thigh on the other under the dress, a reaction that not even you could understand the reasons for.

Rhaenyra's long slender fingers came to your hair, pulling at the pins that held some strands together and formed some braids that was too tight for her own liking. "Your natural beauty is more beautiful. It is like the living embodiment of female innocence."

Her words surprised you, making you swallowed hard, not knowing what to say. Was it a compliment? A disguised mockery? Just a drunken comment? You had no idea and Rhaenyra noticed the confusion written across your features. "Gods... If Alicent had told me that she had a half-sister so fucking beautiful like that, I would have ordered your presence to King's Landing much earlier."

You could not help but chuckle lightly at her shameless flirting. Was it absurd that you were feeling so weak for your own mother-in-law? Would the Gods punish you for this? Would you embarrass your family? Would Daemon kill you? Would Jacaerys jump at the chance to call off the betrothal?

"You do not need to worry..." The Queen purred, her fingers trailing down your dress, lowering the neckline enough to expose your breasts. They were not that big due to your young age, but Rhaenyra's lips watered and she licked both of her thumbs before starting to rub your nipples, leaving them sensitive and perky while you squirmed at the touches, whimpers escaping your pretty lips even if you tried to hold back. "As I said, Jace is not taking your betrothal very well. I will not lie to you about his sexual and romantic affair with my stepdaughter, Baela, but I want you to know that as Your Queen, I am granting you permission to seek out lovers."

Your moans stopped immediately upon hearing her sentence and you almost choked trying to understand that magnitude. Was she allowing you to cheat on her own son? This was a sin in every possible way.

Catching Rhaenyra off guard, you pulled away, getting up from the bed, your breasts still desperate for more touches. "I-I should not have other men..." You mumbled, your voice breaking. "It is normal for a husband to have many affairs. But the opposite is very-"

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes. "Do not act like a saint, bunny. You and all people of Westeros know very well that Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey were legitimized, but they are not the biological children of my first husband, Laenor."

You sighed in frustration, knowing she was right. Everyone knew about this and that was why many commoners called Rhaenyra a whore, saying Jacaerys should not be the next in line for the Iron Throne, but perhaps Aegon III, Rhaenyra's eldest son with Daemon. "But that is different, Your Grace. From the rumors I have heard, your ex-husband did not even like... Women." Your explanation made Rhaenyra chuckle, her eyes shining as you were about to pull the neckline of your dress back up.

"Do not you dare." She ordered, pulling you to sit on her lap, causing you to moan with surprise. You stare her face to face, surrendered by the violet color in her irises that seemed to burn your skin. You were so shocked by the Queen's rough action that you barely noticed that she had moved her hands up the hem of your dress, caressing your bare thighs while her index finger rubbed your swollen bud. "Your cunt is already shaved. Then, did you think my son would want to fuck you as a welcome gift?"

The fact that she noticed the wetness and your lack of pubic hair due to the thin fabric of your underwear made you tremble on her lap again, moaning and wanting to get out, however, one of her hands was firm holding your waist, keeping your hips on top of her lap. "I-It was my ladies-in-waiting's idea! I swear this to you, My Queen! They thought he might... He might want something before the consummation of our marriage." You defended yourself through your tears, resting your head on her collarbone as you moaned at her intense touches on your clit, he other hand coming up to squeeze the soft and delicate skin of your breasts.

"Shhh... It's okay, bunny. I was just curious." Her reassuring voice minimized the pain inside your chest and increased the juices that flowed from your slick cunt, making obscene noises. Rhaenyra knew you were virgin and Jacaerys would demand you stay that way until the consummation of the marriage, so she needed to restrain herself from just using your body and letting you use hers with other ways, never fingerfucking you for a while. "Take off my dress and suck my breasts, princess."

The mention of your new title sent a shiver down your spine. Ignoring the tears still wetting your cheeks, your fingers began to work to undo the knots on the Queen's red and black velvet dress, your mouth watering at the sight of those large perky breasts, wet with a few drops of milk, due to baby Visenya's breastfeeding. "T-that's very wrong..." You tried to argue, being immediately silenced by Rhaenyra's eagerness, who began to rub your clit more roughly, eliciting loud and desperate moans from you, your head immediately falling between her breasts, almost self-suffocating when you surrendered to the sins and began licking her light pinky nipples, sucking on them and listening to Rhaenyra's moans mix with your pathetic whimpers.

It did not take long for you to cum on her fingers, your release running down her hand and dripping onto both of your dresses, your lips still closed around her breast, being breastfed like a baby while she laughed. Rhaenyra smiled, caressing your red hair and kissing your flushed tear-filled cheeks.

"What a beautiful sight..." Daemon teased, entering your chambers, being graced by the sight of his daughter-in-law licking his wife's large breasts, heavy and full of milk, your own neckline exposed a lot and sweaty. Your legs shaking due your recent orgasm.

"Dear Husband..." Rhaenyra smirked, removing her fingers from your clit and showing them to Daemon. "Try a little." You did not move when Daemon approached even more, you just opened your eyes and saw that his knuckles were a little bruised, and you wondered if he had punched Jacaerys for his disrespect towards you.

Daemon licked your wet release from Rhaenyra's hand, a wicked smile as he looked at his wife's horny look and then shifted his attention to you, still weak and confused with your swollen lips busy on the Queen's nipple, eyes wide and teary watching the couple exchange glances. You knew that at first they were both completely against your marriage of convenience to Jacaerys, but something seemed to have changed drastically in the minds of the Queen and King. "Do not worry, bunny. Perhaps Jace is not as loyal and honorable partner as we pictured him before. We cannot promise that his affair with Baela will end, because it probably will not." Daemon's harsh words made you let go of Rhaenyra's chest with a sad pout, leaving the couple's hearts aching.

"Hey, little girl. It does not mean anything. If Jacaerys is going to be a terrible husband to you, remember that I already gave you permission to seek emotional and sexual comfort from other people." Rhaenyra repeated what she had said before and you swallowed hard. It was a crazy and dangerous proposition. And yet you found yourself nodding weakly after Daemon pulled Rhaenyra's neck for an intense kiss and then did the same act to you afterwards. When Daemon's lips released yours, Rhaenyra took his place, the hand of each of them going to one of your soft breasts and playing with them. “This is going to be our little secret, alright, bunny?” The older woman hissed and you moaned with agreement, arching your head back when she started licking your collarbone and Daemon took the opportunity to start ripping off his pants and starting to rip off the underwear he was wearing, freeing his big thick cock for both of you.

If Jacaerys Velaryon would be unfaithful by cheating on you with his cousin, then you would be mean too. You would cheat on him with his own mother and his uncle-stepfather. You would not have a bad conscience. Nothing else would matter. You did not need his false excitement at meeting you or observing his lack of admiration for you. Everything you wanted and needed was right there: your mother-in-law Rhaenyra Targaryen about to get down between your legs to eat you out while your father-in-law Daemon Targaryen put his cock between your lips until it reached the roof of your mouth.

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[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Unbidden

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x f!reader x Aemond Targaryen Warnings: Cuckolding, voyeurism, smut. Word count: ~3k

Summary: Noticing his nephew's wife appears dissatisfied in her marriage, Daemon sets out to show them both that there is pleasure to be found within the marital bed...

Author's note: No tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

She has scarcely been able to take her eyes off of Daemon since he first arrived at the Red Keep. He possesses the classically handsome features bestowed upon those of Valyrian blood, carries himself with self assured confidence, and embodies an air of dangerous unpredictability which both frightens and excites her in equal measure. Though it is none of these qualities that keep her gaze fixated upon him.

Her interest is piqued by how utterly devoted he is to his wife. When she stood beside her husband, Aemond, in the Great Hall, as Vaemond Velaryon challenged the succession of Driftmark, her attention was focused solely on Daemon and Rhaenyra. He had been glued to her side, his gaze always seeking hers, and when Vaemond had dared to call her a whore and her children “bastards”, he had not hesitated in unsheathing his sword and slicing the man’s head in half. She wonders if her own husband would defend her so staunchly.

She is not blind to their starkly different situations; Daemon and Rhaenyra’s union is one of love, it is plain for all to see. Her and Aemond’s is one of political necessity. Although they have grown fond of each other over the last six months of their marriage, and he has never been unkind to her, she cannot help the jealousy that swirls, ugly and acrid, within her chest at the ease of which her husband’s half sister and his uncle interact with one another.

The two children they have together already, and the one that currently grows within the swell of Rhaenyra’s belly are proof enough of their passion for one another. However, the looks they exchange at the dinner table this evening are smoldering and filled with intent. Their fingers brush against each other as they pass dishes of food between them, and Daemon’s hand seems to find its way to her stomach, caressing her lovingly, unaware he is even doing it.

Her and Aemond’s intimacy is not so effortless, though it is not from a lack of trying on her part. He beds her frequently, and she greets his advances with enthusiasm, yet his stoicism renders him incapable of ever fully losing control. He is receptive to her pleas of “harder”, “faster”, but she is always left with the dissatisfaction of feeling he is holding something back, and outside of their shared bedchamber it is rare that he ever touches her. She has attempted to broach the subject with him before, framing it as a means for them to find greater satisfaction within their marital bed, but he always waves her away dismissively, clearly uncomfortable with the topic.

She can sense something dark and urgent bubbling beneath the surface of him, and longs to draw it out, to experience the full force of the fire of the dragon that runs through his veins, but she does not know how to entice it. 

It had appeared prominent in his seeing eye as Dark Sister had cleaved the Velaryon man’s skull in twain, a potent mixture of bloodlust and desire, as his pupil had dilated ever so slightly. It had sent a shiver up her spine, heat pooling between her thighs, causing her to squeeze them together to fend off the dull, throbbing ache.

She longs for that look to be cast upon her, for her to be the recipient of whatever wrath that follows, and now she is sure that it is Daemon that holds the key to coaxing the darker side of her husband out to play.

The dinner is a tense affair. Aemond sits beside her, so tightly wound she is sure the lightest of touches would cause him to shatter like glass. When he finally loses his cool, throwing barbed words towards his nephews, resulting in an exchange of blows, the evening draws to an abrupt close, with each of them being dismissed to their respective quarters. As they depart the dining hall, her husband and his uncle lock eyes, a smirk of amusement flashing briefly across Daemon’s features as Aemond’s nostrils flare in irritation.

She can feel the heat of his anger radiating from him as he strides through the corridors of Maegor’s Holdfast, scurrying alongside him in an attempt to match his pace. That look has returned and with it her desperate feeling of lust. If she doesn’t seize the opportunity now, then she is unsure of when it will present itself again.

Reaching out for her husband, she grasps his elbow, her fingers taut against the leather sleeve of his tunic. His steps falter and he turns to look at her quizzically, chest heaving with the laboured breaths of his barely concealed rage.

“What is it?” He snaps.

Instinctively, she shrinks back, second guessing her decision as she sees the way he glares down at her, lip curled into a snarl. Despite her fear, she reminds herself that this is the side of Aemond she had been seeking, and leans into him, placing her hands upon his chest.

“I want you,” she whispers, gazing up at him pleadingly.

“Not here,” he sighs, his expression softening, as he gently grasps her hands in his, moving them back to her sides.

Though she remains outwardly calm, in spite of her disappointment, internally she feels so frustrated she could scream. The look she craves is gone, he has rebuffed her advances and she knows that once more she is destined to an evening where he will treat her as though she is made of bone china.

“I believe you were told to return to your quarters.”

The intrusion of Daemon’s voice causes Aemond to take a quick step backwards, away from her, as she turns to look. He stands before them in the corridor, posture rigid and chin raised up ever so slightly, giving the impression that he is looking down his nose at them both.

“We are on our way,” Aemond responds icily, drawing himself to his full height and staring down his uncle.

The smallest of smiles tugs at the corners of Daemon’s mouth, clearly unphased by his nephew’s hostile demeanour. “I shall escort you both, to ensure there is no further delay.”

Before either one of them has the opportunity to protest, he steps forward, one hand reaching for Aemond’s shoulder, while he places the other at the small of her back. Aemond wrenches away, huffing irritably as he continues walking. She makes no such effort to struggle away from Daemon’s touch, his fingers feeling like a brand against her flesh through the fabric of her dress. 

The three of them walk in uncomfortable silence, the only sound is the echo of their footsteps against the flagstone floor. Her eyes widen in surprise when they reach her and Aemond’s shared chambers and, instead of bidding them goodnight, Daemon follows them inside, closing the doors behind them.

Aemond stares at him quizzically, eye narrowed. “What are you doing, Uncle? If you are here to reprimand me for what was said at dinner then–”

“I am here for your wife, actually,” he interrupts, turning his head towards her as his eyes move from her head to her feet and back up again.

She feels her skin grow hot under the intensity of his gaze, swallowing thickly as he regards her as a cat would a mouse.

“What do you want with my wife?” Aemond asks, his voice lowering in quiet threat.

It is the first time she has ever heard her husband speak of her so possessively and it makes her pulse race. She wants more of this, there is an intense thrill to having the attention of two Targaryen men placed solely upon her.

“Do not think I have not noticed,” Daemon says to her, ignoring Aemond as he continues to stare at her. “You have been ogling me all day. Why?”

Embarrassment prickles at her, and she lowers her gaze. Her voice is small and pitiful sounding to her ears as she answers. “Forgive me, My Prince. I did not mean to stare.”

“Look at me when you speak to me,” he commands, “and answer the question.”

She exhales shakily, lifting her eyes to meet his. His stare is piercing, his eyes darkened and predatory in the low lighting of her and Aemond’s apartments.

“I found myself…rather taken by how you engage with Princess Rhaenyra. You are quite affectionate with one another.”

Daemon’s brow furrows slightly as he cocks his head in curiosity. “Does your own husband not show you affection?”

A wave of sadness washes over her, causing her shoulders to sag at the reminder of the lack of intimacy between her and Aemond. She spares him a glance, noticing he has not moved from where he stands. His expression could be mistaken for neutral were it not for the fury that rages tempestuously within his seeing eye as he glares at his uncle.

Drawing in a deep breath, she looks back to Daemon, answering simply, honestly: “no.” Shame shrouds her, suffocating and dense, feeling the overwhelming urge to cry, her head dipping as she focuses on the spot where the hem of her skirts meets the stone floor. She cannot bear to look at either man, knowing she has spoken out of turn about her husband, not just in front of him, but to his uncle as well.

She gasps as Daemon steps forward, crowding her space, his finger crooking beneath her chin to lift her face up towards his. The touch of him makes her knees buckle slightly and she leans back against the table behind her for support, no longer trusting her legs to keep her upright. “What a brave little thing you are,” he whispers, an edge to his voice that twists her stomach into knots.

“I–I am sorry,” she stammers, eyes flitting nervously between her husband and his uncle. “I should not have–”

“There is nothing wrong with expressing your wants, your desires,” Daemon reassures her. “Perhaps my nephew just needs a little help in learning how best to please his wife?”

She squeals in surprise as he grasps the backs of her thighs, lifting her until she is seated upon the edge of the table she had been leaning against. Lips parted and eyes wide, she turns her head towards Aemond, and though his fists are clenched at his sides, his breathing accelerated in silent fury, he makes no move to stop what is happening. That look from earlier has returned, ravenous and half crazed, she interprets it as silent consent, wanting to do all she can to keep it fixed upon her.

“What of your wife? Will she not mind you…helping us?” She asks timidly, as Daemon’s hands make quick work of rucking her skirts up around her hips.

He chuckles drily in response, dragging her smallclothes down her legs, allowing them to dangle from a single ankle. “You and Aemond have much to learn, sweet girl. Fucking is a pleasure, and Rhaenyra does not mind how or with whom we seek it, as long as our loyalties do not falter.”

The very idea seems scandalous to her, yet wetness gathers between her legs all the same. Aemond has now taken up the seat beside the fireplace, watching them both intently, his stare unblinking and fiery. 

Daemon’s fingers travel up her legs, until they reach the insides of her thighs. His fingers are thicker than Aemond’s, his touch is calloused and rough, where Aemond’s is deft, yet hesitant. His fingertips dig into her soft flesh, hard enough to bruise as he pries her legs apart, a hum of approval rumbling in his throat at the arousal he finds glistening there.

“Does your husband make you this wet?” He asks with gentle curiosity.

She nods enthusiastically, looking over at Aemond and seeing a small, prideful smile ghost quickly across his lips before disappearing.

“Good,” Daemon tells her. “No problems there then.”

His fingertips swipe through her sodden folds, his middle finger quick to locate her pearl and circle it with precision. The movement makes her tense, a jolt of pleasure causing her hips to buck as she mewls helplessly.

“Does he touch you like this?”

“N–no…” she whimpers in response.

“Hmm,” Daemon glances over his shoulder, before looking back at her. “Well, ensure he does in future. I am sure he will; he is paying close attention.”

Looking back over at Aemond, she feels herself clench around nothing, her desire building with a steady, rhythmic ache as she sees the lacings of his trousers strain against his hardness. He is enjoying watching this, lips slightly parted and eye hooded. The sight of it rids her of the last of her inhibitions as Daemon moves his focus away from her bud and dares to push his two forefingers inside of her. She tilts her head back, gripping the edge of the table tightly as she feels her muscles stretch to accommodate him.

“You must be prepared, thoroughly, before you are fucked,” he murmurs against the shell of her ear.

Her mind is foggy, struggling to comprehend Daemon’s words as he presses the pads of his fingers upwards, dragging them against a spot inside of her that causes her toes to curl and moisture to trickle down onto the tabletop. Does he really mean to fuck her? Surely that would be a step too far? Yet she finds it difficult to care when he is pushing her towards the precipice of pleasure itself with simply his fingers. Her mind reels with the possibility of what it would feel like to be stretched out around his cock.

As his fingers pump faster, she moves her hips in tandem, chasing the urgently building pressure that is growing inside of her. He pulls them from her suddenly, causing her to whine in frustration at being robbed of her peak.

Daemon grins wolfishly as his hands move to unfasten his breeches. “I think we have learned enough in that regard, and are ready to move on.”

She averts her gaze as he frees himself, her eyes finding Aemond’s, another silent check in for consent. His throat bobs as he swallows, his knuckles almost white with the force of the grip he has on the armrests of where he sits, but he makes no move to stop what is happening.

Her hands grasp at Daemon’s shoulders as he sheathes himself inside of her, knocking the air from her lungs. Aemond and his uncle are similar in many respects, but this is a matter in which the pair of them could not be more different.

It is odd to her that, despite being between her thighs, he has not tried to kiss her. Whether it is a mark of respect for hers and Aemond’s marriage, or simply because he does not want to, she is unsure, but she is grateful for his abstinence. A kiss seems too intimate a gesture, there is nothing sweet about this.

Daemon sets a brutal pace, once she has had a moment to adjust, rocking into her with a force that causes the table legs to scrape loudly against the hard floor. He is so much more self assured than her husband, utterly unafraid to violate her, and it is freeing to be handled so roughly.

She moans wantonly as he moves a hand to wrap around her throat, applying gentle pressure at the sides. “Do not be afraid to be a little unrestrained,” Daemon grits out, a statement clearly not meant for her, even though his eyes bore into hers. “I have yet to bed a woman who does not enjoy it.”

He has the right of it. The hand around her throat, coupled with the almost violent manner in which he thrusts inside of her is dizzying and, as he slips a hand between them to stroke at her pearl once more, she knows she will not last long. It has never been this intense with Aemond before; a lack of experience, coupled with a fear of hurting her means he is always gentle, hesitant where he need not be. 

The grip on her throat tightens, the ministrations against her bud grow more insistent as she feels Daemon pulsate inside of her, his jaw clenching at the telltale sign that he is close. With a final, harsh thrust of his hips, she cries out in ecstasy as the warmth of his seed spills inside of her, triggering her own release as she tightens around him in rapid, successive pulses.

“Good girl,” he mutters quietly.

He is quick to pull out of her, as she leans back against her palms, pliant and breathless from the experience. She barely registers Daemon tucking himself away and slipping out of the chamber doors, as Aemond moves into view, standing before her.

Under ordinary circumstances, the wrathful insanity she sees reflected in his blue eye would frighten her, but tonight it has butterflies fluttering ceaselessly in her lower belly. His hand moves to the back of her head, gripping her hair tightly by the roots, tugging her head forcefully backwards. Her yelp of pain is stifled by him pressing his lips firmly against hers, his tongue licking against her own in a kiss that is more a desperate display of possession than a loving embrace.

“You are mine,” he breathes, letting go of her momentarily to tug at the lacings of his trousers.

“Yours,” she whispers back, satisfied excitement causing her pulse to thrum at the knowledge she has unleashed the side of Aemond she has always longed for.

Daemon’s spend has begun to dribble out of her, and as she watches the head of her husband’s cock push it forcefully back inside of her, she knows he will remind her every night from now on exactly which Targaryen Prince it is that she belongs to.

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[targaryen-dynasty]

BEHIND CLOSED DOORS.

Modern!Daemon Targaryen x au pair/cam girl!Reader

"You didn’t expect your host dad to be back so early, yet things take an interesting turn when he catches you in a compromising situation. What’s better than losing your virginity to a man that knows just what he’s doing?"

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT-MDNI; non/dub-con, semi public sex?, p in v, fingering, praise kink, loss of virginity, oral fixation, rough sex, unprotected sex, female Reader, modern AU

WORDS: 3.4 K

NOTES: This is an older story, slightly edited bcs I didn't want to change too much. Consider it as my gift for reaching 3K followers! You know me: a celebration will follow from 15th of July until the 26th!

❗️𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

The luxurious apartment is quiet, safe for the soft giggles and moans coming from your bedroom, the door slightly ajar since you’ve anticipated being alone for a little longer. It’s what catches Daemon’s attention as he steps into the dark hallway with all lights turned off and both his sons put to bed. 

Curiosity is what gets the best of him as he approaches the door silently, peering inside of your room with a raised eyebrow. His jaw immediately sets as soon as he notices what exactly you’re up to, knowing all too well despite your back facing the door. 

The black office chair you sit in almost covers your frame completely, directed towards your desk with your laptop opened and Daemon and your large bed merely seeing the back of the chair. 

As a man with ample experience up his sleeve, Daemon can easily gauge what you’re doing. Both your feet are propped up at the edge of the chair, legs spread and bent at the knees, and your forearm slides up and down in a slow but steady rhythm. And if that’s not making it obvious enough already, the faint squelching sounds of your fingers slipping in and out of your cunt are a dead giveaway. 

His desire to respect your privacy is big, but he can’t seem to bring himself to shut the door, leave you alone and act as if nothing has happened. Something dark is stirring deep inside of him, surging to the surface and not allowing him to act rational. He knows what every other host would do, but he’s not like everyone else – even you’ve noticed that very early on in the job – and especially not when he’s handed the one thing he’s wanted for so, so long on a silver platter. You. 

“Do you like watching me?” you hum, far too occupied by the little messages popping up on the screen in front of you. The quiet sigh Daemon makes as he fears that you’ve caught him red-handed goes completely unnoticed by you, and his racing heart quickly calms the moment you slightly lean forward to squint at the screen of your laptop and read the chat. But he’s not sure if it’s his luck or not, because your next words feel as though the air is forced from his lungs, heat spreading in his loins that makes him palm his half-hard cock, lightly stroking it through the fabric of his slacks. 

Tipping your head back against the chair, you release another quiet moan. “I wish you could fuck me right now, hmm, take my virginity.”

The urge to groan is adamant, lingering at the back of his throat, and he takes that as his cue to interrupt, although a part of him also is curious to see how much farther you would go. His strides are leisure as he steps into the room, moving to peek over your shoulder. 

“Now that’s quite an invitation,” he remarks, his voice low and deep. “Do you put on a show like this often, little mouse?”

There is a slight stutter in your arm as you hear his voice behind you, and with merely your pelvic region up to your neck being in view, you allow your facial expression to slip. Though the movements of your hand stop, you let it stay in the exact position – perhaps a part of you wanted to be caught by him all along. 

The neckline of the tank top you wear is pulled down enough for both your perky breasts to spill over the fabric – the damn top you wear almost every evening, prancing around the apartment, entertaining the boys and practically begging for him to devour you wholly – and when heat blossoms in your cheeks, it also runs down to your cleavage. As you try to shut the laptop, Daemon is one step ahead of you, gripping it to keep it open. 

“M… Mister T–” His name dies on your tongue with the realization of your viewers still present and the stream not being muted. “I didn’t expect… I didn’t think you’d be home so–”

He interrupts you with a raised index finger, his darkened eyes shamelessly raking over your exposed body. Even your own eyes trail down to the slight dickprint in the front of his dark slacks, leaving little to the imagination. Your mouth runs dry as you try to make the size out of the outline. 

“Oh, don’t mind me, keep going,” he says, a wicked smile on his lips. “I wouldn’t want to ruin your show. Your audience is waiting, and it seems as if they’re quite enjoying the show you’re putting on for them…or perhaps I should join?”

“Join?” your voice comes out in a squeak, liquid fire spreading through your veins from embarrassment. “I… I don’t think that… the stream… my followers–”

Daemon chuckles. “Oh, come on now, I’m just offering help,” he says in a nonchalant way. “Your viewers would appreciate the extra entertainment, I’m sure. And I know I would as well.”

The feeling of his presence is so adamant as he leans closer towards you — the heat of his body and smell of his scent almost enough to distract you. You can feel your body react, your heart racing in your chest. Your eyes dart to the screen of your laptop, where the chat is bombarded with comments, most of them begging for you to agree while others even offer extra money for him to join. Even if they can’t really see him, they can hear him perfectly clearly and that seems to be enough for them. 

“You’re impossible,” you mutter. 

He grabs the chair and turns it around so you’re facing him now. With his hands gripping the armrest on either side of the chair, you’re trapped by him. “Just look at them,” he remarks, nodding towards the screen. You turn your head to the side, eyes meeting the screen again. “Seems like you have some eager viewers, little mouse. They’re practically begging for it, and you should give them what they want.”

You can feel your resolve crumble with every word that leaves his lips, your cunt throbbing at the mere thought. “But… But I have never…” you trail off, fixing your gaze with his. 

“Oh, I know,” he says. “But don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you. Just get on the bed for me, sweetheart.” With his hands leaving the chair, you find yourself able to breathe again, the tension in your body calming slightly. 

Nodding like an utterly obedient thing, you swallow hard, a mixture of excitement and trepidation swirling within you. You follow his instructions, rising from your chair to walk past him towards the bed. His purple eyes all but burn into your body on your way, making you shiver. 

For Daemon, there is no greater pleasure than seeing somebody as obedient as you. Watching you walk past him makes him feel a twitch in his groin, his hard cock straining against the confines of his slacks.

While you crawl onto the bed, Daemon pulls the office chair to the side to clear the view for your audience, a smug smirk adorning his face. He stalks towards the bed, movements slow and deliberate, like a predator closing in on its prey. He brings his hand to your face and cups it, his thumb running over your lips. 

You lean into his touch, eagerly opening your mouth to allow him to push his digit inside. You shouldn’t be doing this, but you have always felt drawn to the forbidden. It’s his charisma and the dominance he radiates that has lured you in ever since your first interview, and on top of that, he’s so damn easy on the eyes, you would be stupid to turn him down. 

And what’s better than losing your virginity to a man that has ample experience up his sleeve? One that clearly knows what he’s doing? 

“Now, let’s give them a show they’ll never forget, shall we?” he asks. 

You nod your head while coyly sucking his thumb, finding a weird satisfaction in it that makes you feel completely safe around and guarded by him. Despite you kneeling on the bed, he’s still so much taller than you, looming over your frame to the point you have to crane your neck slightly to maintain the eye contact he has initiated. 

“Such a good girl already,” the older man taunts, fumbling with his slacks. “I’m certain you’ll be a natural.”

It’s astonishing how easily he opens the buttons and zipper of his slacks and pushes them down to his knees only using one hand, and when his briefs follow, your teeth sink into his thumb. It’s a knee-jerk reaction, one that only seems to feed into his amusement, but he’s just so big, standing to full attention already with no ministrations on your part, a slight curve and beads of precome glistening at the tip of his cock. He’s both thick and long, and you’re sure your fingers wouldn’t even meet around its girth if you’d wrap it around. 

“This… It’s not going to fit,” you whisper with a muffled voice, staring up at him with doe-like eyes.

“Oh, little mouse, I’ll make it fit.”

At the sight of him taking himself in his hand and spreading the precome over the tip of his cock, thumb teasing the slit, you moan wantonly around his digit, just like before when you’d fucked yourself with your fingers. 

“On your back, and spread these legs for me,” he demands, pulling his thumb from your lips. It makes you pout, and you lick your lips, chasing the feeling of his thumb pressing down on them. 

Following his instructions, you shift your body and lean back until your head meets the plushy pillows, and spread your legs to give him the perfect view of your cunt, folds swollen and glistening with a desperate need.

Daemon has rid himself off his slacks and briefs, so he’s almost naked – safe for the black shirt he wears. Instead of moving, he stays exactly where he is, striking eyes solely fixed on what lays between your legs as if he’s never seen a naked woman before. 

His gaze is almost too much for you to bear, especially with his tongue darting out to wet his lips, and you’re tempted to squeeze your thighs together and pull your tank top back up – the only thing stopping you is the uncertainty on how he’d react if you did so, and you’re not keen on playing with fire right now. 

Time seems to move slower with the way his gaze all but devours you and the anticipation putting your body on fire, yet the moment also brings a sense of hurry with it. It’s evident that Daemon is desperate to be buried inside of you, because he’s not really taking his time to prepare you for him, simply assuming your fingers have done enough for it already. 

The moment he climbs on the bed, making himself at home between your parted legs, it feels as though the breath is knocked out of your lungs. The anticipation is killing you, you long for something you haven’t felt before; the painful stretch of a cock filling you. Of his cock filling you. 

He smiles at you in an irritatingly smug way, definitely knowing how his presence is making you feel. “Just relax,” Daemons rasps, hand clasping around the base of his cock as he drags it through your folds and aligns it with your entrance. “Can you do that for me, darling?”

Sheepishly biting your bottom lip, you nod. The friction causes you to arch your back slightly, pushing your hips toward him impatiently. It’s a difficult task to tear your eyes off of his hard cock, one that you do not manage.

You press your eyes shut to prepare you for the stinging pain as the tip barely prods against your entrance, but it’s his tsking that has you open them again. 

“Nah, eyes on me.”

And just like you’ve done the whole time, you follow his lead, keeping your eyes locked with his as he pushes just the tip inside – ignoring the desire to press them shut to cope with the intrusion. With the way your walls already suck just the tip of him inside, clenching tightly around it, it costs him much more restraint to not force himself into you with one thrust, split you open and pound you into oblivion than he likes to admit. 

Yet he’s kind enough to keep his word and his urges at bay, granting you a little time to adjust to his girth. The stretch is painful indeed, and every ridge and vein of him drags along your fluttering walls as you struggle to take him. He fills you up with a slow push and a strained groan slipping past his lips which drowns out your quiet whimpers.

It feels different than all the times you have used one of your toys on yourself, and your walls all but wail around him, clenching and squeezing around him in an attempt to try to accommodate him. 

“‘Tis too much… It–” you whimper, interrupted when he eventually bottoms out completely, and it feels as though he’s all the way up in your belly. Your hands fly to his shoulders for leverage as he forces you to take his lenght and accept his girth, nails already digging crescent shaped marks into his skin despite the layer of his shirt between you. 

“Ah, there we go,” he groans, and by the way his shoulders tense under your fingers, you know it isn’t easy for him to keep his hips still. 

He’s so deep, you feel the pressure inside of your belly, the tip bullying your sweet spot without him really moving. It feels like he’s splitting you in two, and you know you’ll be feeling him for days – but it’s an ache you welcome.

“You want me to continue? To fuck you?” he asks, a mischievous grin on his lips. 

Having lost your voice for the time your body needs to adjust to him, you all too eagerly nod your head, your eyes never once leaving his. He does not mind you not using your words, clearly sensing what’s going on inside of you at this moment. 

“Then beg me for it, sweetheart.”

Your mouth falls open at that, glossy eyes flickering between his to search them for the jest. “What?”

“You’ve heard that right. Beg for me to fuck you.”

It’s the single rut of his hips that almost pulls his cock out of you completely and sheathes it right back inside that has you whining and begging for him in seconds, the dire need to be claimed by him consuming your mind. 

“Gods, please… please,” you whine. “Please fuck me. I… I need it… need you.”

Just your whiney voice and the tight squeeze of your cunt around him almost have him coming on spot. How could he ever say no to you? Not when you beg so sweetly for him to fuck you, and look at him with these big, innocent eyes. 

“My my, aren’t you a good girl?” he purrs, the praise surging straight to your brain. 

Daemon wastes no more time, and plunges his cock into you, starting slow and careful. You can only assume that it’s the complete opposite of how he’s usually fucking, but you knows you’ll probably get there at some point. If not tonight, certainly sometime over the course of your stay, since you still have a few more months. Or perhaps he’ll even agree to extend your stay after this?

He leans down to prop himself up on one elbow, his broad chest flush against yours. Tonight isn’t about fucking, it’s about forming and bending you to his needs. You wouldn’t accept his advances again if your first time is painful. 

You can’t help yourself but to cry out in pleasure as he shoves his cock into you over and over, hitting all the right spots within you with little effort, your mind going hazy with pleasure. 

With each thrust you approach your orgasm faster and faster, the all familiar coil in your belly threatening to snap at any given moment, and his pelvis and the coarse hairs at the base of his cock rutting against your overstimulated clit with each steady grind don’t really help to delay it either. 

“Sir, please… I’m close,” you whimper, biting your bottom lip.

A satisfied smirk lingers on his lips as he looks at you, eyes dark blown with lust. “Then go on, sweet thing,” he rasps. “Go on and come for me.”

It’s like his words ignited something inside of you that causes you to topple over the edge almost in time with his command, the force of it reducing you to nothing more than a whimpering mess that seems to spur him on even more.

“There she is,” he groans, and cups your cheek with his free hand, squishing your face slightly as he presses it against his chest, clearly using you like a ragdoll while you drown in the comforting scent of his perfume mixed with sweat. But he doesn’t stop his movements, if anything he increases the pace of his hips. Not too much, but just enough for you to notice, and have that uncomfortable feeling of being overstimulated creeping up on you. 

Daemon gets back on his knees and clasps both his hands around your thighs. 

“No…, I can’t,” you whimper, pleading eyes searching his dark ones for mercy, but it doesn’t come. Instead, all you’re receiving is a grunted ‘you can’ as he drapes your legs over his shoulders. The change in angle has another orgasm washing over you almost immediately, your back arching off the mattress. 

A groan escapes his parted lips as your convulsing walls milk him yet again. “Yes, fuck, just… just like that. Such a good girl for me,” he stutters, though it’s obvious he’s talking more to himself than to you. 

His weight disappears from your body not long after the aftershocks rocked you, kneeling upright to pound into you. By now it is more than obvious that he has abandoned his decency and the wish to give you a pleasant first time, his hips working tirelessly to milk every last drop of pleasure out of your body. He fucks you fast and hard, and all you can do is whimper and moan thank you’s and yesses over and over again while he uses your body to get himself off. 

Soon Daemon’s rhythm falters, but he still manages to pull out of you and jerk himself off, tip of his cock pointing towards your stomach as he comes with a loud groan. His throbbing cock spills his seed onto your flushed skin and the top you wear, essentially marking you as his and staking his claim to you.  

While you’re completely blissed out by experiencing two orgasms in such a short time, you can’t stop watching how he comes undone in front of you, coating you in his spend.  

As soon as he’s done, Daemon gets on his feet and puts his briefs and sweats back on, tucking himself back into them. He stands and takes a few seconds to examine his work, especially the blissed out expression on your face and the way his seed covers your torso from your navel all the way up to your breasts. 

He smiles at you, running a hand through his disheveled hair, before he pulls his shirt over his head and throws it into your direction. “There you go. Told you I’d make it fit.” 

He exits your room so fast and leaves the cleaning up to you, you don’t even get the chance to admire his bare chest or him in general. 

But you have no time to think about what has happened as the quiet pings! of your chat make you remember your still running stream. Barely able to pull his shirt over your head before you scurry off the bed, tumbling towards the laptop with trembling legs and a very prominent aching between your legs.

Squinting at the screen, you notice that the number of viewers is as high as never before, just like the amount of tokens they’ve sent you. Your lips curve into a wide grin, and you shut the laptop and fall into your chair, hoping it’s not the first and last time you experience such bliss by the hands of your host.  

[paulyenvol6]

Punishment

Based on this request! I didn't include all kinks because I didn't feel super comfortable with some of them but I hope you're still going to like it and I had a lot of fun writing this request, so thank you! Enjoy :)

Contains: smut, rough sex, p in v, unprotected sex, rough oral upside down (m receiving), dubcon, crying, degrading, objectifying, mentions of words like slut and whore, edging, no aftercare, mean/dom Daemon, Daemon locking reader in his rooms

Wordcount: 2,894

Masterlist

The darkness seemed to suck you in.

You would lose your mind at some point, you were certain although by now you were trained; Daemon had made sure of that.

A few months ago the lonliness having nothing to do but to sit and wait for your lord husband would have killed you but after having dealt with it a couple of times you knew just how to pass the time. It worked the best when you would flee in your imagination thinking about a beautiful memory and getting lost in it until you forgot why you had come there in the first place.

But that didn't mean that you liked being locked in your room. The room was stuffy, your lungs yearning for fresh air and you had a bad headache. All you could do was pray that Daemon wouldn't make you wait much longer and in this moment you realized how well thought out this method of him was.

He locked you in his room for such a long time, until you had gotten so insane craving anything to happen that you welcomed his punishment. No matter what he would do to you tonight, right now you believed it would be more comfortable than sitting here alone.

You hummed to yourself stretching your legs because they had become numb but then your heart jumped when the door was suddenly opened.

Quickly you turned around watching Daemon lock the door from inside before he slowly approached you. You immediately fell to your knees tears welling in your eyes because now was the moment you remembered the trouble you were in.

"Daemon," you whimpered staring up to him under your lashes your heart pounding rapidly in your stinging chest. He replied with a smack on your cheek that made your head turn but he instantly moved your head to his liking again his hand threateningly trailing up your jaw.

"Little slut," he spitted and repeated the motion which made you cry out as you felt this was the only thing you could do to react to him. Daemon inhaled deeply his nostrils flared and his eyes looking so dark you couldn't make out his pupils and then grabbed a fistful of your hair dragging you up.

"Did I tell you to get on your knees? Did I tell you to get changed into that dress? Did I tell you to speak up?"

You felt more and more miserable with each word thinking you had messed up in every possible way and whined when your husband pushed you onto the bed. He towered over you making you feel so small you felt you were about to sink into the mattress and then took your trembling hands to pull you forwards.

"I want you to tell me what you have done wrong. And your punishment is gonna depend on what you're gonna say, little one, so you better make an effort."

He put his hands on his hips examining you closely through narrowed eyes his jaw so clenched that it looked like he was trying to bite his tongue off.

"I-I… I misbehaved a-and didn't d-do as you t-told me. And I touched myself. I'm so sorry, D-Daemon, I-I know that it was wrong."

"And where did you touch yourself, mhm?"

His voice sounded way too calm for the current circumstances and you didn't dare let him fool you with it.

"O-On m-my clit. But it d-didn't feel as good, Daemon. Only y-you can do it," you stuttered and then jolted when his hand connected with your face again a sharp pain spreading on your face.

"Then why did you do it, little kitten?" he asked talking to you like you were a little child unable to understand what he was saying. Your big eyes looked up to him showing so much despair and fear it made Daemon chuckle quietly, an evil sound escaping his throat.

"Answer me. I swear to the fucking gods, kitten, if you won't play along you'll pay for it and I'm gonna warn you right now it's not what you want. You're already in trouble and you certainly don't want it to get worse for you."

A jerk went through your body but you managed to form an apology in your head as you pleadingly folded your hands in your lap.

"I'm sorry, Daemon. I was craving you so badly and I-I just didn't think and touched myself… I needed it s-so badly and I c-couldn't wait."

You couldn't tell whether you had said the right thing because his face remained cold and unbothered observing you like you were vermin and then bringing his hand to your chin to tilt your head.

"On your back."

The words cut through the air like knives and your body followed his order like it was guided by an invisible force. But once your head touched the bed Daemon grabbed your upper arm turning you again so your head was right by the edge of the bed instead of resting comfortably in the cushion. Daemon fortunately didn't comment on the miscommunication and instead began opening the lacing of his pants and then pulling them down along with his breeches.

He gripped his cock palming himself a few times before stepping towards the bed and pulling you towards him so your head hung off the bed.

"Open your mouth. I will use that filthy mouth of yours, kitten, and there's no need to tell me how much it hurts or aches because I don't care. I'll use you to get off and I don't wanna hear any fucking complaints from you."

With these words he slightly bent his knees so his cock could slide past your lips taking your mouth upside down. He really stayed true to his word entering your throat without paying attention to your retching and gagging making you take all of him while gasping out loudly.

"Mhm yes," he sighed his left hand roughly kneading your breast while his right held your head in place.

You were completely helpless in his grasp because you couldn't move, let alone ask him to slow down or give you a moment to breathe and so you closed your eyes concentrating on something else so you wouldn't throw up on his cock.

"Fuck yeah. That's it," Daemon growled and then moved his left hand to your neck tracing your veins and your delicate skin with his fingers and smirking widely when he saw the slight outline of his cock in your throat.

You on the other hand seriously struggled to take him crying and sobbing and although your sound was muffled by his cock Daemon clearly noticed it. Still he didn't care, rubbing over the wet area under your eyes like he was taking pleasure in the fact that you were bawling your eyes out because his cock was too much for you and then pushed even deeper; deeper than you had thought was possible but Daemon Targaryen was an impressive man and if he wanted to reach further he managed to do so.

He took what he wanted from you using your mouth like it was just another worthless hole and squeezed his eyes at the feeling of your tight throat in addition to your pretty noises that sounded so soft and yet so fearful.

"There you go, pretty girl. You stupid, stupid thing. You got yourself into that position, you know that right? Perhaps I would have spoiled you tonight and gifted you countless orgasms but you chose to obey me and what kind of husband would I be if I didn't give you a lesson?"

A gentle one mayhaps, you thought but kept those thoughts to you; not that you would have been able to express them. Daemon wanted obedience now, his doe-eyed, innocent little girl that took her punishments with the yearning to please him and showed him how sorry she was.

You writhed on the bed arching your hips when he went particularly deep and reached further than you could have ever imagined panic taking over and you made the mistake of fighting. Daemon instantly, as though he had waited for you to do this very move took hold of your head with both his hands keeping you in place while he relentlessly shoved his length down your throat over and over again, your walls getting bruised and sore and your tears mixing with your saliva and snot.

It was disgusting and messy but your priority was to not suffocating so you didn't care about the state of your face as you unpatiently waited for Daemon to finally finish but he seemed to restrain himself on purpose.

"Oh gods be good… you dirty fucking slut."

You thought that you were going to lose it and faint under the air restriction but then it was suddenly over. Daemon came with a loud growl pushing his cock down your throat to the brim and kept it there until he had fully emptied himself.

"Fuck… Oh fucking hells…"

You choked and gagged pushing against his thighs but he didn't even bother to pull your hands away solely ignoring your fighting as he claimed your mouth marking your walls with his salty seed. Your whole body twisted your hips buckling up but there wasn't anything you could do because his hands were firm around your head.

When he finally pulled his flabby dick out you greedily inhaled, your hands coming up to your neck and you quickly turned to your side so he didn't have access to your mouth any longer. Sobs left your mouth your jaw painfully aching and your throat made you feel like you needed a hot tea to sooth the soreness.

"Not so fast," Daemon hissed after he had calmed down from his high, grabbed your hair and effortlessly turned you around so you were on your back.

Then he climbed on top of you his hands pressing down your wrists on either side of your head and that was the moment you chose to show him once more how bad you felt about what you had done.

"Please, Daemon. I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't have done it."

He didn't reply which was a bad sign and when he reached between your legs you closed your eyes preparing yourself for the stretch. You didn't know how it was possible that he was already hard enough again to fuck you but this was Daemon Targaryen and people said that he was closer to gods than to men so who were you to question it?

You believed that you were wet enough to take him but the stretch would be inevitable and considering how angry he was with you you knew he wouldn't go easy on you. So you inhaled deeply concentrating on your breathing while you felt Daemon fumbling with your underwear under your skirts and when you heard a ripping sound and the cold air brushed over your center you opened your eyes again.

"Daemon," you pleaded again trying to evoke any affection he had for you but his eyes remained cold.

"Shut up. I mean it, little one. You don't want me to get even angrier with you."

You whimpered but accepted your fate biting down hard on your bottom lip while Daemon aligned his cock with your entrance. You gasped when he pushed in not going gentle just as you had expected.

He immediately worked himself inside of you to the brim your walls throbbing around him as you tried to adjust to his thickness. You had your head turned to the side to avoid his gaze but Daemon had different plans for you taking hold of your chin so you were forced to meet his flashing eyes.

"You feel this? You feel the pain in your little cunt? It's a fucking reminder of what happens to you when you disobey me."

He bottomed out and then pushed back in your eyes squeezing and your breath caught in your throat.

"You're mine, sweetling. You're mine to command, to make you do whatever I want to. You exist to serve me. You cum when I want you to, you wear what I want you to and you leave this room when I want you to. Now tell me, who are you?"

You moaned, your tiny hands grasping his shirt as he started to fuck you at a steady pace.

"I'm your slut," you managed to bring out your cunt still refusing to welcome the intrusion. But Daemon clearly was in the mood tonight to push you further delivering another slap on your cheek.

"Who does this body belong to?"

"You. You alone and I know that I'm nothing without you," you cried and could barely make out his face through the veil of tears.

When you felt his finger on your needy clit, it was the first time you had a little hope that this night might not turn out so horrible after all because along with the pain, the heat in your core started to spread all throughout your body distracting you from the discomfort you felt.

Your lips parted your eyes staring down to where his hand worked between your legs and you should have known back then that he was playing you. Daemon intended to punish you, not pleasure you so you had been a fool to enjoy it.

Because a little while later, you felt yourself getting closer to orgasm he stopped of course removing his hand from your clit and instead delivering a sharp smack on your cunt that made you jolt.

"N-No, Daemon, please…," you whimpered and lifted your hips.

"I told you to shut up. I don't believe you have quite learned the lesson yet."

He slapped your pussy again a little harder this time and the stinging pain brought tears to your eyes.

"I have, I-I just… Fuck."

It was his thumb now that rubbed your pearl and by now you knew exactly what he was doing. He edged you, probably wanting to see you beg and then break for him and it seemed like his plan was working perfectly. You couldn't control yourself, pleasure clouding your senses, the need to orgasm soon being the only wish in your head. You weren't scared of him and his punishment anymore, too eager to finally come, but Daemon swiftly changed it by pushing two of his fingers in your mouth reminding you of your sore throat.

He continued like this, denying you your releases over and over again while pushing you to the limit with his two thick digits in your mouth and soon you were a trembling mess underneath him that couldn't even vocalise her need to finish. You whimpered and whined, cried and begged him with your eyes but Daemon was immune to all of that.

He seemed to want to push himself further as well, slowing down inside of you every now and then as if to edge himself a little until he eventually came for the second time tonight. Daemon collapsed on top of you wrapping a hand around your throat to not only keep you still but to shut up any complaints about your own ruined orgasm and then took his time savouring the divine release.

He breathed heavily against your jaw nose nestling against your bruised skin and gasped when he pulled his cock out of you. You on the other hand twitched, feeling beyond responsive to every touch and you prayed he would do something to give you some relief as well.

Your whole body was on fire limbs aching and your cunt being strangely overstimulated and swollen and greedily throbbing with lust at the same time. But Daemon didn't make an attempt to do you a favor instead putting on his breeches without even as much as glancing at you. You were definitely too fucked out and messy to do anything lying in bed and waiting for your husband's next move but once he was fully dressed again he just raised an eyebrow arrogantly watching your naked body.

"I'll return in the morrow. I'm not yet done with you. Until then you'll stay in here doing nothing and if I catch you doing anything you're not supposed to do like touching yourself or trying to sneak out, I will not go easy on you. When I come back here in the morrow you better behave nicely because if you're lucky I'm going to fuck your throat and if I'm not feeling merciful it's going to be your arse."

Your eyes widened at his words your arms covered with goosebumps but as you were still processing his words Daemon had already left the rooms letting the door slam shut with a loud bang and then the turning of the key told you that he had locked you in once again.

You sighed slowly feeling the tiredness creeping up on you and were quite grateful for it because in any other case you might have spent the night turning from one side to the other seeking relief.

You craved a release so much so that it was almost impossible to lay on your back but for the first time tonight you were in luck and drifted off to sleep within a few minutes.

[arabellasleopardcoat]

To Conquer (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Incest is common amongst Targaryens, Daemon assures you. Unfortunately, Alicent got to you first.

Warnings: Mentions of sex. Cursing. Arranged marriage. Periods. Daddy issues. Religious guilt. One death aside from canon ones (Daemon murders a man)

A/N: In which I rewrite the scene of my first encounter with incest in a book. If you get it, you get it.

YOU NEVER dared call Alicent mother out loud. But in your mind, she was.

The woman who had birthed you had passed away the same day you had been born. Out of her womb you had been pulled, alongside your twin. He had not survived the day.

Queen Aemma Arryn was a mere name to you, a woman who existed in paintings and shadows, a ghost that lurked on the Red Keep. Your father never once spoke of her too you, too consumed by guilt and grief. In fact, he did his best to never speak to you at all.

You were an uncomfortable reminder of the crime he had committed. Robbing a woman of life so a man may live. It hadn’t even worked in the end. Your brother had faded from this world, nothing of him remaining.

Against all odds, you had. You had clung to life, the Maesters would later say. Fought tooth and nail to stay in this world. And somehow, it hadn’t been enough. Your father avoided you like the plague, but Alicent, guilty, scared, lonely Alicent, did not. She was all you had.

You stared at your reflection in the mirror. Despite your dramatic entrance to the world, and your eventful first few months of life, your life had turned out to be quite lackluster. There were no exciting adventures or claiming of dragons, much less a moniker attached to your name like there was to Rhaenyra or Daemon. You wondered why this, out of all things, had to be different.

The robes looked graceful enough on you, you supposed. Your father had called you a true Valyrian beauty, the very image of your mother. You knew it wasn’t true. King Viserys didn’t remember her. How could he, if he had done his best attempts to erase her? He had replaced her at once, and he never once spoke of her again. At least, not with you.

His presence in your life could be defined with one word: Absence. But he had thought it fair to reappear when he needs you to do something for him. The least he could have done would have been asking for your input about the wedding.

If you had been asked, you would have chosen a traditional wedding ceremony, with a Septon and a hand fasting. You would have worn a Targaryen cloak… To be exchanged for another Targaryen cloak. No. Perhaps it had been for the best, not to desecrate such a beautiful ritual with this nonsense.

Still, you couldn't shake the feeling of not being really married. You didn’t like it. And you liked the man who was waiting for you on the other side of the door much less.

“Are you done, niece?” The knock on the door forced you into action, once again. You reached into the basin, watching the cool water shift under your fingers. There was something about the cold that cleared your head, helped you think. You took a deep breath, and tried to focus.

Alicent had told you that you should obey him in all things. That you had to do your duty, just as she had done hers. But you had seen the fear in her eyes when you were getting ready for the ceremony, and how her hands had grasped at you desperately during the feast. It had taken Ser Otto’s intervention to make her let go of you.

Your bedtime stories had not prepared either of you for this. When you were a young girl, plagued by night terrors, she would sit at the foot of your bed and pretend to read your destiny.

“One day, you will fly to the moon wearing spiderwebs as wings.” She would squint at your hand, making a show of reading the lines there.

“Tell me more!” You would squeal, fears forgotten. Despite not being the motherly type, she would always indulge you. Perhaps, because she saw herself in you. Another little girl, her mother dead, her father defined by his lack of presence.

“It says here…” Alicent would tickle your palm. “That you will grow up into a beautiful, beautiful princess who will marry a handsome lord. He will love you very much.”

Out of all the lies you had been told, it was your favorite. Each night, you would ask to hear it again and again, and think, tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow I will be all grown, and the lady of a great castle. My father will love me then.

It had been a consolation you had clung on through all your childhood. You were a princess, worthy of being appreciated by your future husband. He would love you, you knew. You would build something together, something only yours. You would raise your children to be better than you, following Alicent’s example. You would be happy.

You had never realized how much she had clung to that thought too. Her frustrated dreams for herself had been turned into hope for your future. Alicent had spoken them into the night like an enchantment, as if she could bring them to life by repeating the words over and over. So you could have what she hadn’t had. Like all parents wished.

What both of you had imagined wasn't this. You wanted to scream from rage.

“Just a bit more.” You said, your resolve hardening. The faith of the Seven dictated that laying with a relative was a sin, the same for laying with a man who was not your husband. They barely recognized Valyrian wedding ceremonies.

Had you really married him? Your High Valyrian was sloppy. Your mother had not taught you much, and your lessons had often been interrupted because of Aegon. Out of all your siblings, Aemond had been the most proficient one. He had not been present at the ceremony, being judged too young to attend.

It had been your parents, Daemon, Aegon. An intimate ceremony, just as they liked. Could your father betray you so? Give you away as a whore to appease his brother?

You opened the table’s drawers. Daemon’s bathing room was unfamiliar to you, but he must have used something to shave and you would find it. You riffled through various oils and soaps before finding the blade you were seeking.

With your non-dominant hand, you bunched the robes up. Bracing yourself, you used your other hand to slit your upper thigh. At first, you didn’t draw blood, despite feeling the sting of the blade. Your grip was too shaky. But your determination didn’t waver. Your father had asked too much of you already, there was no power in the world that could force you to share your Uncle’s bed.

Your second attempt was much more successful. Despite having tensed the muscles of your thigh anticipating pain, it didn’t hurt as much as you expected. Blood rushed out. You grabbed a rag and rubbed it on it. You examined it, coldly. No matter how Valyrian, you bled red, like any Andal.

You schooled yourself into faux embarrassment before you spoke.

“Could you… Husband…. Could you fetch my mother?”

Despite your calculations, you make the mistake regardless. The noun slips from your tongue, unprompted. A slip. The first of many to come. The temperature dropped in the room, Daemon’s anger a near palpable thing.

“Your mother is dead, niece.” He stressed the last word in a way you didn’t like. Despite the door separating the two of you, you could tell his mood had shifted from bad to something much worse. You feared what he might do to you, were you to backtrack in your plan. “Whatever Alicent has been teaching you, you should know you are not hers.”

“Queen Alicent.” You corrected, annoyed. How did he dare criticize the way she had raised you, when there had been literally no one else around up to the task. How did he dare speak down to you, as if you were a simpleton? You fought to keep your tone steady and stomped on the anger bubbling up. “I have… lady troubles.”

“Lady troubles?” Daemon asked, sounding puzzled.

You pondered the merits of skirting around the issue. You weren’t in the mood to enter a euphemism’s discussion, and so, decided to be more graphic.

The bloody rag was held gently between your fingers when you opened the door. No more words were needed. Daemon cursed and went to get your mother.

HE DOESN’T dare ask at first. Daemon understands that women’s bodies work different from his own. He has never bedded one in her moonblood, and doesn’t intend to start with you.

Despite your beauty, Daemon felt oddly disappointed. He had hoped, with you being fully Rhaenyra’s sister and not half, like his younger nephews, that you would be similar to her.

You weren’t. You lacked her fierceness and the respect for your heritage. The only thing Valyrian about you was your looks. You didn’t even have a dragon of your own, and were so damn timid, he might confuse you with a mouse rather than a Princess.

Because of that same reason, he let you be during your moonblood. While Daemon didn’t object to some blood, he doubted you would be the same. Bedding unwilling maidens wasn’t his thing. He preferred his girls willing, be it from the promise of coin or delirious from their own lust.

Somehow, he was getting the feeling you weren’t going to be the second type anytime soon. Every time he attempted to kiss you, you squirmed away, as if he were initiating something sinful and not simply trying to kiss his wife.

“Seven Hells, would it kill you to remain still?” He asked as you nervously avoided his grip on your waist. “I am not trying to initiate anything. I know you are still on your courses. Stand still. I command it.”

“I… I…” You had looked at him, all hesitant eyes. Alicent had done scarcely any things right when raising you, but at least she had instilled you obedience. But blood couldn’t be denied, and every so often your Valyrian nature reared its head. Mostly, playing against Daemon rather than in his favor. Little dragon that you were, you weren’t keen on following orders.

Ah, but bring you a Septa. Then you were jumping out of your seat to offer the damn woman your chair and observing her earnestly for non-verbal cues, tending to her every need like a commoner. Ridiculous.

“The Mother obeys the Father, from what I understand.” Daemon kept his tone matter of fact. He wasn’t certain that the Seven Pointed Star said that, but it sounded right, and it suited him, so he spoke the words with as much conviction as he could muster. In truth, Daemon had never opened the damn book in his life. A waste of time. The Septons he knew were a bunch of cunts and their followers weren’t any better.

“Maidens are supposed to be demure.” You protested. “Not indulge on indecent displays.”

“You are not meant to be a maiden any longer.” He grabbed you by the waist regardless, coaxing you to stroll next to him. “And wives obey their husbands.”

While you remained unconvinced, you allowed him to lead you around the Red Keep’s gardens. He kept a constant stream of chatter, using all his best lines, but you answered in monosyllables. Not only did Daemon wish to cultivate a better relationship with you, but he also wanted to flaunt his new bride. It was only fair that the other cunts here got a look at Targaryen superiority. Kept them from being too uppity.

Like everything else in this marriage, though, that too proved elusive. Soon, whispers began to circulate about his virility. One of your maids had a loose tongue, it seemed. The whole castle was snickering about it not even a week later. You, like usual, were oblivious.

In a fit of anger Daemon would later not be proud of, he got all the little chits whipped. But their attitudes about your moonblood made him begin to suspect something was amiss. A fortnight of bleeding seemed… Strange. While he was never particularly interested in women’s bodies beyond fucking them, something had to be wrong. An inquiry with the Maester proved him right. Apparently, over a week was unusual, a fortnight near impossible.

That night, he sat on the foot of your shared bed, watching you fret around the room. Daemon had asked for shared chambers, thinking it would bring the two of you closer. With his constant exiles and marriages, and the fact that Alicent had coddled you during your whole existence, you were a stranger with a familiar face. He had hoped to entice you by appealing to your curiosity about marital duties. Safe to say, it didn’t work.

You had put up barriers. Both metaphorical and physical ones. Right now, you were at it again. Laying down a towel on your side of the bed and a pillow in the middle of it. As he watched you, he found himself struck by the beauty of your hands. They were firm and precise in their movements, fixing down the towel and then neatly delimiting your side of the bed with the pillow.

You were wearing the most hideous nightshirt know to man, more adequate for a Septa than a newlywed. Slightly bent over, fluffing up your pillows, Daemon noticed that it was as white as fresh snow. Now that he thought of it, all your shifts were. And yet, none of them had ever been stained. Nor had the towel you placed on the bed and loudly proclaimed it was to avoid leakages. An effort to make yourself more unappealing, perhaps?

Somehow, the realization didn’t anger him. Instead, it made him more curious. Was this your way of rebelling? Were you scared? What went on behind your eyes, inside that skull of yours?

“Wife.” Daemon finally spoke, when you were starting to kneel for your nightly prayers. You paused, kneeling gracefully. You looked up at him, all curious eyes and nervous smile. “Have your courses always been this long?”

This time, he watches your reaction closely. During these past days, Daemon has not pressured you about it. But now, he waits on bated breath.

Your eyes widen. The hands you have clasped in prayer get even tighter pressed together.

“Oh, you shouldn’t… These are womanly concerns.” You are a terrible liar. He would laugh, were it not such a cruel thing to do when in the face of a little fool.

“I insist.” Daemon arches an eyebrow at you. You squirm on your knees like there are ants on your shift. You are visibly distraught. Does it pain you, pious girl that you are, to be committing a sin?

“Yes, they are.”

Another lie. He had asked some of the fools in Viserys’ employment. Yours didn’t last more than a week. But Daemon finds all the twitching you are doing entertaining, and so, decides to give you more rope to hang yourself.

“And yet, your father promised that you were fertile.” He drawls, cruel amusement almost leaking into his tone. He can’t help the way his lips twitch. This is too entertaining. It’s like toying with a mouse before eating it.

“I… I am.” You weakly defend yourself. Your face is looking more distressed by the second. And is that..? Oh, wonderful, you are starting to sweat a little.

“No, you are not. You are either lying about that, or about your moonblood.”

“I am not!” You protest, finally getting up from your kneeling position. A shame. You looked positively delicious in your predicament.

“Yes, you are! But I am giving you a chance to tell me the truth. Which one are you lying about?”

“I am not.” You look about to flee the room, so Daemon gets up and places himself on your path. You flinch a bit, but stubbornly refuse to admit the truth. His amusement at your attitude is starting to turn sour. Not only it is unflattering that you are making up excuses to avoid bedding him, but they are so stupid half the court is laughing at him behind his back about it. And you, absolute fool, can’t admit it.

“Wrong answer, niece.” He steps closer, trying to intimidate you. “I know the truth.”

“You do?” You startle. You take a step back, nearly tripping on the hem of that ugly nightgown. Daemon reaches to steady you, his grip on your arms punishingly. You twitch, as if sensing that you are caught in the maws of a hungry beast that could pounce at any moment.

“You are not on your moonblood. You can't be every single day of the moon!” He shakes you a little, making you yelp. But then, the most astounding thing happens. Because instead of going very still, as the frightened bird that you are, you shove him hard.

“What would you know!” You scream at him, pointing one finger at his face. Daemon wishes to say he is unbothered by your hysterics, but instead, he grabs your accusing hand and tugs it. The delicate bones shift inside his hand, threatening to snap, and you're left with no choice but go towards him or break your finger.

Wisely, you choose the second. You are breathing hard, and looking up at him in righteous indignation.

“Brute!”

“I asked your maids.” Daemon smirks at you, something ugly appearing on his face. In truth, whatever you see spooks you because you deflate a little. “So? Shall you tell me the truth? Or must I find it myself?”

He makes it as if to lift your shift. You bat his hand away, hard. Interesting enough, you harden then.

“What else is there to know? Beyond that I am not on my moonblood?”

“We can start with why you lied. Or why you don’t wish to lay with me.” Daemon suggests, gripping you tightly so you cannot escape. He brings his face closer to yours.

Your eyes are wide. Your face is frozen into a terrified expression, like you are realizing all your lies are catching up to you.

“I didn’t want you to force me.” You say, voice barely a whisper. Who do you think he is? Some sort of monster? Your depraved half brother, perhaps? Daemon had already heard the exploits that one was up to. Jerking off in a window, of all things.

“Force you! If I wanted to force you, I could already have.” Daemon rolls his eyes. You were not trained in any sort of combat, and you were the kind who had her head in the clouds more often than not. You were not a match for him. If Daemon wanted to force you, he just had to pin you down or pull out Dark Sister.

You stay quiet, perhaps coming to the same realization. You have gone to bed next to him for nearly two weeks, only in thin shifts. Every day, you have woken up untouched. Doubt starts to cloud up your face, as if you are noticing how vulnerable you truly have been and how well Daemon has behaved.

As if he were going to be deterred by a little blood. He was a true Targaryen. It was in his house’s words. Plenty of maidens bled when being split open on his cock. Your moonblood would not be very different.

Daemon decides to appeal to your more… Hightower side. Perhaps that would get you to yield to him. He uses his more Otto-like tone, trying to sound as cunty as possible.

“It’s your duty.”

You shake your head, frantically.

“We can’t. It's not right. You are my uncle.”

Your words are spoken with such conviction, he has to fight the urge to scream. That was your problem? You? A daughter of the house of the dragon, complaining about incest?

“It is not unprecedented. Our whole line begins because Aegon the conqueror had his sister wives. And then, Maegor married his niece, too.” Daemon’s words are sharp. He lets go of you and starts to pace the room. Good Gods, what had Alicent done to you? Had she twisted your mind so, you now thought marrying him was wrong because you were related?

“And their marriage was cursed. No child was born out of their union.” You reply, with an ugly smile. He wants to slap it out of your little face. Smug little girl, thinking she knows everything about the world.

“Jaehaerys married his sister, the Good Queen Alyssane. They had plenty of children.” He insists, trying to get you to notice the flaws in your argument. Everyone knew that the only way to preserve the Valyrian bloodline was by marrying other Valyrians. Otherwise, the magic in their blood would dilute, and they would no longer be able to claim dragons. It was common sense.

“All of them turned out very… queer.”

“My parents..!” But you interrupt him before he can finish.

“Exceptionally queer, too.”

Daemon feels his face heating up. No one before has managed to infuriate him so. He wants to shake some sense into you. His hands itch for something to punish you with. Impudent little thing, daring to suggest his parents had been queer!

Queer! The queer one here was you! A Targaryen who opposed incest!

“Listen here, you awful little…”

“Stop that. Stop insulting me, by the Seven. You won’t change my mind.” You raise one of your hands, in the universal halt sign. “I will never share your bed.”

At that, Daemon thinks actual steam must be coming out of his ears. Never. As if. You would change your mind, he knows it. No one can resist him for long. He is experienced, charming, and handsome. A prince and a true dragon. What more could anyone want?

He would make you regret your words. He would show you. Under all your repressed, Hightower ways, you were a dragon. Targaryen blood ran thick. Daemon would have you eating out of the palm of his hand before you could realize. Before, he hadn’t really been trying. But now? He was ready for war.

“Come here.” He orders. You stare at him, and do not move. “You will disobey me in this, too?”

You step closer, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“I wish to make a deal.” Daemon says. You cross your arms over your chest. “You don’t have to bed me if you don’t want to. But you will have to give me something in exchange.”

“What?” You tap your foot against the floor, impatiently. Yet your face, as always, betrays you. His offer has made you lower your guard, interested in what he has to say. Probably because you are seeing a way out of this whole issue.

“I want you to let me be as affectionate as I wish with you.”

“Fine.” You snarl at him, trying to look fierce. But you are too new to this game of pretending for Daemon to not see through your mask. You are confused.

He steps closer. He gathers you into his arms, and hugs you.

At first, you tense. Your arms remain glued to your sides, body stiff in his arms. Daemon enjoys the feel of it regardless. You smell like innocence, sweet and young. Your body is soft and feminine, nothing like the hard muscles of his first wife. He allows himself to relax into you.

Eventually, your body sags a bit. You relax into the hug.

“I wish… I wish….” You start speaking, face hidden in his shoulder. Daemon doesn’t let go. His gut tells him that whatever you are going to say, it is important. “I wish I wasn’t ashamed. And that… In our wedding ceremony, I would have liked to know what was being said.”

Daemon’s heart aches. His poor little Hightower, denied of her birthright. And then, a giant grin spreads on his face. Here it was. The opportunity he needed.

“I will teach you.” Daemon whispers, against your hair. He kisses it. It’s a lovely thing, an icy blonde that doesn’t fit your warm personality. Now that you are not fighting him, he is starting to notice you are very sweet natured. “I promise.”

“You will?” You look up at him, wary. “And what will the price be?”

Daemon chuckles.

“No price.” He caresses the bridge of your nose, tracing your features. You seem bashful at the attention, and it is so adorable, he can’t help but kiss you.

You startle. All coltish, you nearly elbow him in your haste to move away.

“What are you doing? We said no bedding!”

“I know.” Daemon smiles at you, indulgently. Now is the time to tread carefully, less you spook, and he ends up losing all his progress. “I just want to kiss my wife. Affection, for the sake of it. Kissing doesn’t need to lead to anything.”

You nod. You don’t seem convinced. But he soon discovers your hesitance comes from something else.

“I have never kissed anyone.” You whisper, almost ashamed.

“Then let me teach you that too.” And he is leaning in, and capturing your mouth with his.

“I GOT you something.” Daemon suddenly says, one morning. You lift your gaze from your book, an historic account about the doom of old Valyria, and watch him with curious eyes.

Your husband is carrying a bundle of cloth on his arms. He is back from his usual shenanigans in the city. Betting and drinking, but no longer any whoring, he assures you. The Lord of Flea Bottom is no more, or so he says.

It is quite early. You have just broke your fast with your mother, after the two of you did your morning prayers together. It is a ritual you find great comfort in, despite Daemon doing his best to discourage you. He doesn’t like that you worship the Faith of the Seven.

He has grown slightly more tolerant of Alicent as time goes by. You cannot say the same for her. Despite the fact that Daemon treats you well, she still can’t seem to get over the fact that he is Daemon Targaryen, the same man who had terrorized her father, courted her best friend and possibly murdered his last wife.

The bundle of clothes moves in Daemon’s arms. You place your book down, and creep closer, wondering about its contents. It’s then that you hear it. A soft, quiet mewl.

A grin spreads across your face. You cross the distance between the two of you, and watch as a small paw reaches out from the cloth, flexing its tiny claws. It is covered in white fur, the cushions on the bottom of it a soft pink.

“A kitten!” You say, delighted. You take it from Daemon and cradle it against you. The kitten can’t be older than a few weeks. His eyes are already open, a cloudy gray that takes your breath away. It’s love at first sight. “Oh, husband, thank you!”

“I saw it when I was coming back this morning. Thought you would like the damn thing.” Daemon says, gruffly. He crosses his arms over his chest.

“I will name him… Quicksilver!” You say, cheerily. It makes his lips twitch a bit, unable to hide his amusement. This week, Daemon has been helping you practice your High Valyrian by reading a more recent text, accounting the times of King Aerys.

The language practice has brought the two of you closer. You are no longer as resentful or scared of him as you once were. You spend nearly all your evenings with him, pouring over gigantic tomes written in the language of your ancestors. Daemon patiently corrects your pronunciation, teaching you the right way of rolling the vocals, and how to accentuate your consonants.

You would have never thought you would enjoy learning so much. He is a very compelling teacher, clearly passionate about the subject yet stern enough to make you do all your assignments before their due date. Daemon is patient and encouraging, willing to explain things to you over and over again until you understand them fully.

The kitten yawns, showing a row of tiny white teeth and a pink tongue. You coo.

“Tiny but fierce.” Daemon smirks. “The Seven preserve us all.”

“How pious.” You tease, and Daemon steps closer. He grabs your waist and pulls you in for a kiss, Quicksilver still in your arms.

Despite having kissed him many times before now, you feel as weak to his advances as you had felt the first time he had kissed you. Daemon kisses like he is conquering, nipping at your lower lip until you open for him, and taking complete ownership of your mouth. His hands grasp at your nape, holding you against him. There is no escape from his kisses, and it fills you with a thrill you had never expected to feel before. Daemon wants you. He desires you, as a man desires a woman. There is no headier feeling than that.

At first, you had thought he was lonely. Why else would he ask for affection, when he was able to ask for anything else from you? That night, when he had found out you had been lying to him, Daemon could have asked for anything, done anything to you. Not a man in the realm would have judged him for it.

His behavior after that only seemed to confirm it. When the two of you were in public, his hands would linger on you, as if fearing you would leave his side. When someone told a funny joke, his eyes would seek yours before laughing, making sure you were still there.

It was an urge you understood too well. Abandonment was something you had learned to fear as well. Your mother had left you unwillingly. Your father and sister had both been eager to wash their hands from you. You guessed Daemon’s life had been a bit like that, too. From what you had heard, his mother had passed when he was a child. Your father had grown tired of him. And your sister… Well. That had been his fault.

When you grew up like that, you clung to every kindness, to every slice of warmth you could get. It was no wonder Daemon clung to you as hard as he did. It was difficult to live like that, not knowing what kindness feels like, grasping desperately to any scraps of it until you can almost piece together what the real thing feels like.

Despite having all reasons not to, Daemon’s attention never turned suffocating. Perhaps, you too, were starved for affection. You had gone your whole life with no positive male attention, being overshadowed by your sister and forced into almost a Septa-like life by your mother. His touches were never beyond the proper attention a man would show his wife in public. It felt almost… fatherly.

As a child, your father had never sat with you, or listened to anything you said. Daemon, instead, seemed to pay close attention to everything you did or told him. He sat for hours with you, pouring over myths and historical accounts, correcting your pronunciation of High Valyrian, teaching you the meaning behind old rituals.

It was as if a door had been opened for you. One you could use to glimpse inside his mind, and your father’s and even Rhaenyra’s. You understood now much more about how they behaved, and why they did. You didn’t necessarily agree, but you understood.

Some confusing feelings had begun to arise with all this new information stuffed into your head. You liked Daemon’s attention. He was charming, and it made you feel good about yourself, being able to keep someone as worldly and cultured as him interested in you. It made you wish, sometimes, to have been his daughter instead of King Viserys’. But at the same time, the way you felt and the things you did with him weren’t the kind of things you imagined daughters feeling for their parents.

When Daemon kissed you, as he did now, you felt your stomach swoop. His skilled mouth made your skin tingle, and all your hairs stand up on edge. It made you feel ashamed of yourself. You weren’t supposed to feel such things for your uncle. No matter how Valyrian, it was just not right.

What made you feel even more ashamed was the fact that sometimes, when he kissed you for too long, the place between your legs would get slick with arousal. You wanted him too, you realized, with the utmost horror. You wanted him like a woman desires a man. A wife desires her husband.

It is then the game starts. Daemon kisses you, and you kiss back, eagerly exploring his mouth and learning how to play his game. You make out with him for what feels like hours, until you feel drunk from his kisses and become as pliant and soft as clay being molded in his hands. It is then that you let him touch you a bit more, push the boundaries your previous truce has set. His hands grasp at your hips, his lips mouth at your neck. And when the edge of your shift starts to ride up, or his lips trail too close to the neckline of it, you jolt out of your stupor.

Shame licks at your spine, grabs tightly at the back of your head. Makes you stiffen under him, body set into a hard line. How can you be so wanton? Why do you behave in such whorish ways? You struggle then, overcome by the embarrassment you feel at your own behavior.

Daemon tries to subdue you. Sometimes, you fold, other times you spend the night tossing and turning on the bed, trying to get the upper hand. Sometimes, he wins, and pins you down on the mattress. But instead of forcing you, he kisses you again and the game begins anew.

You spend the nights like this. Kissing and struggling with anxious violence, until it has begun to replace the act of love. You can tell Daemon enjoys your struggles, the feel of your buttocks against his clothed crotch. You can feel the weight of him against your hip, burning hot and hard.

Eventually, he tires and heads out. You don’t know if he pleasures himself then, or if he just ignores his arousal until it goes away. You prefer the second when it comes to yourself. For hours, you stare at the ceiling, willing the heat in your blood to go away. Sleeps evades you, yet when it does not, it feels even more torturous. You dream of him, of the act, conjuring lewd positions and thoughts, until morning comes, and you feel like you have not slept at all.

This precarious balance could never last. You are not good at the court’s games, having been a wallflower most of your life. You are a stranger to waging tongues, and malicious comments, but Daemon is not. He is doomed to always be the center of attention, this husband of yours.

Someone notices that almost three moons after marriage, you are still a maiden And someone remembers Daemon’s lack of children with his first wife. One plus one makes two.

He comes to find you in the Royal Sept, as you are lighting candles with your mother. He grabs you briskly by the arm and drags you away, the match still alight between your fingers.

“Have you heard?” Daemon asks, breathless. It is clear that he has rushed to you. “What they are saying about me?”

You shake your head.

“How would I?” You are, after all, as isolated as you were before the wedding. Your only companions are Quicksilver, Daemon, your mother, and your siblings. And Aegon is at that terrible age, where he behaves like a little deviant. The others are too young to provide true companionship, Helaena stuck on her imaginary worlds and Aemond not quite a boy, not yet a man.

“They say I am impotent. That your womb has not quickened because I have not taken you. Because I am unable to.” The crude words Daemon speaks make your eyes widen. You have grown protected from the nastier side of court life, forgotten as you were. You cannot believe how someone would dare comment on a married couple’s bedroom activities, which are meant to be one of the more sacred things to happen between man and wife according to the Seven. Much less, how someone would dare to utter such poisonous slander.

“We know it’s not the truth.” You place your hand on his arm, trying to soothe his wounded pride. Daemon is, above all, impulsive. You fear he is about to do something rash, even if you do not imagine yet what.

Isn’t it enough that the two of you know the courtiers are in the wrong? You have felt the press of his member, hard against your hip, in the nights the two of you struggle. You have felt his hips rutting against yours, as his kisses mapped unknown constellations on your shoulders. What does it matter if Daemon hasn’t taken you? How can these people dare interfere, or even mention what the two of you do or do not do?

Shame, once again, grips you in its clutches. You feel your face warm at the thought of how these strangers must view you. Queer. Twisted. You wonder if they blame his inability to perform on your blood ties. If they think the Seven are cursing your marriage, just as they had with the ones of King Maegor.

“It isn’t.” Daemon says, coldly. He walks away, a tense line on his shoulders, and you walk back inside the Sept.

Alicent is still lighting candles. You sense that there are not enough of them to make a difference for what is about to happen.

That night, a disgruntled looking Harwin Strong wakes you up. He tells you how he is there to supervise your packing. You are leaving the city, he explains, to your bewilderment. Effective immediately.

As you place your dresses inside some linens, and ready Quicksilver, you manage to coax the story out of him.

Daemon had been at his usual haunt in Flea Bottom, betting on some cockfights. You could picture the scene clearly. Daemon, lazily counting his winnings with that infuriating smug look he got when he was proud of himself. An angry patron, getting up and on his face after losing to him.

“Maybe that cock will work for your wife!”

The whole establishment erupting into laughter. Daemon, cold smile on his lips.

“Go to your manse, and arm yourself. Because I am going to kill you tonight.”

After that, there was little he could say in his own defense to King Viserys. It had been a premeditated act, in front of multiple witnesses. No way of denying it, or trying to shift the blame.

You stood outside the city gates, observing Caraxes. He looked as done with Daemon’s antics as you felt. In front of you, stood the world.

Daemon strode by, being dragged by Ser Harwin. He was chained, but managed to look as carefree as any free man.

“You know the rules.” Ser Harwin said, unchaining him, before turning towards you. There was a bit of sorrow in his brown eyes, perhaps feeling pity for you. “Farewell, Princess.”

“Where to, Lady Wife?” Daemon asked, cheekily. There was no hint of remorse on his face. It seemed exile reinvigorated him like nothing else.

Your lips pursed into a thin line. You didn’t want to leave. It was scary, the thought of being away from home. The times you had been outside the Red Keep could be counted with the fingers of your hands alone. And what were you to do, friendless in the big world that opened in front of you?

You wanted to punish him. If he was giving you a choice, you were going to give him a lesson.

“To the North. Perhaps that hot blood of yours will fare better there.”

“ARE YOU sure?” You ask him, all pleading eyes. Daemon nods, already sitting inside the hot spring. You are strangely fearful of the warm water, perhaps, having already grown used to the cold of the North.

“If this scalds me alive, I will come back to haunt you.” You warn, turning to face away before beginning to undress. Daemon can’t help but let his eyes linger on your body, despite knowing how indignant it would get you were you to notice. He has promised to avert his eyes, after all.

Naive as you are, you never check to see that he actually does.

He watches as you remove your furs, and unlace your dress. It has taken him quite some effort to get you to feel comfortable enough to be naked in his presence. There might come a day when you are desensitized to nakedness, but Daemon guesses you are still far away from it. He has to keep trying.

You are worth the effort, though. His precious niece, sweet as the Maiden herself and twice as pretty.

“Dragons don’t burn.” He answers, absentmindedly. You are only wearing your chemise and your hoses, and as you lean down to remove those, he gets a perfect view of your cute rear.

“Perhaps. But I am no dragon.” You pull the chemise over your head, unaware of the fact that you are being watched. Daemon drinks in the sight of your naked legs, strong yet delicate, leading up to beautiful hips and a soft back. As you pull your hair up, he notices how the muscles of your arms and back move in a graceful combination that can’t be anything more but a natural gift. He spends a few seconds mesmerized by you, before you start to turn around and Daemon remembers he is supposed to be averting his eyes.

He fixes them politely on the other side of the hot spring, careful to not let you catch him looking out of the corner of his eyes. You are becoming sloppy in your old age, he scolds himself. Daemon can't help it. Lately, he feels more like the boy he once was than the man he is. His attempts at seduction are fumbled, he gets carried away by his passion, a single one of your smiles can render him tongue twisted.

Everything that you do is charming. The slight sway of your hips as you walk, the way your eyes light up when you laugh, but most of all, your personality. Freed from the cage of Alicent’s judgmental stares, you seem to be growing into yourself. Life on the road seems to suit you, despite your fearful nature. Surrounded by strangers, you no longer feel the weight of being judged for imaginary sins.

“You are. Just one with a more…. Fragile constitution.” How he wishes to be able to turn back time, sometimes. Gather the girl you once were into his arms and soothe all the old hurts. Raise you the right way, give you all the attention you had desperately needed and watch you bloom into an impressive woman. You were already a creature of impossible beauty. How much better could you have been, if they hadn’t stunted your growth?

You were too much of a Hightower, Daemon himself had thought once. But Alicent had thought you not Hightower enough, and she had tried to mold you into one, keeping you well away from what she thought of as queer customs.

Who had told you weren't a dragon? And how had they made that awful lesson stick, until you felt adrift, and belonged nowhere?

The sudden sound of water shifting, and you hissing makes him jolt out of his contemplation. Daemon turns his head the barest bit, managing to catch sight of your hips sinking into the water, and the shape of one of your breasts. There is one puffy nipple crowning it, hard and proud and begging to be bitten. He fights the urge to pounce on you, and instead remains sitting on his side of the natural pool and tries to relax into the warm water. Patience is of the essence in seduction, after all. You need to come to him convinced it is your idea.

“Ready.” You say, sounding a bit too close. He turns and there you are, right in front of him. You sit on the shallower end, water covering you to nearly your collarbones. Daemon playfully reaches out with his foot and touches your leg, making you jump. He laughs.

“It isn’t so bad, is it?” Daemon’s voice still carries a bit of mirth. He can’t help it, you have such cute reactions.

“No. Almost like a warm bath.” You fan your face with your hands. Seeing you lose your composure a little, Daemon feels a bit guilty about pressuring you to enter the pool. It’s true you are not as used to extreme heat as he is. He rushes to your side, uncaring of his own nakedness.

“Too hot?” He asks you, wiping away a stray drop of sweat before it can get into your eyes. You mumble something incoherent, so he presses a hand to your forehead. He doesn’t want you to swoon from heat exhaustion, out of all things. But your temperature is normal. It is then he realizes your eyes are fixated on his chest.

Ah. Poor thing. Daemon can feel his lips stretching into a proud smile. Finally, succumbing to your lust. He should press his advantage, but he finds himself hesitating to do so. Despite how appealing he finds you, he understands that you are different. A being that walks the world of the divine and the mundane that skirts the two but was not made for the more carnal things.

Instead, he commits the sight to memory, for when he decides to touch himself. Perhaps tonight, even. It is something he has been doing more and more often. Daemon has found intercourse with whores is nowhere near as fun as laying on the bed, with you by his side, and tugging at his cock until completion.

He is never quiet about what he is doing. Soft grunts and moans fill your chambers each time he does. You pretend to be asleep, but Daemon can tell you are listening. The next day, you turn fevered with lust. It is you who kisses him, who rakes her claws along his back.

There is no consummation yet. But it is becoming clearer than once fully freed from the judgment of your family, there will be.

You sway slightly. Daemon opens his arms, and lets you curl into him. He guides the two of you into a sitting position, placing you firmly on his lap. Your hair falls into a mess of curls thanks to the humidity, up do barely resisting. He fixes it for you, tightening the ribbon keeping it up. Then, he starts massaging your neck and shoulders.

The pleasure of your bare skin under his hands is undescribable. It’s a luxury he has worked hard to get, and for that, tastes even sweeter. Your sweet little face is scrunched up, in a rare show of pain and pleasure. Daemon wonders if it is the face you would make when he spears you open on his cock.

An annoying hardness begins to make itself known in his groin. He feels like a mere boy, getting excited about the smallest touch. You are driving him mad. And Daemon is enjoying every second of it.

Almost as if listening to his inner monologue, you shift on his lap. Something seems to be bothering you. You can’t get comfortable, and you squirm on his lap more than a seasoned whore. Daemon can pinpoint the exact moment you notice what you are squirming on. Your eyes go wide and you freeze. An embarrassed look takes over your face.

He fights the urge to laugh, wrapping his arms more firmly around you and encouraging to rest against his chest. Daemon could spend years like this. Denial is a fun game. Months have passed, and he has yet to grow tired of it, of taking away your innocence little by little.

You lean in. You give him a playful little smile, and you bite, hard. The pain from your teeth blooms on his shoulder, making his cock throb.

“Impudent little thing.” He chastises, softly. “I should spank the defiance out of you.”

You laugh. You have come to realize that he is not as much of a brute as everyone painted him to be, and that he is too soft to make good on his threat. Ever since your argument, Daemon has never hurt you. He likes you too much for it. He wouldn’t force you to bed him, nor would he willingly do anything to upset you. Not even if you announced you didn’t want him touching you ever again.

Was this what love felt like, he wondered? Being happy with just sharing the same air you did, watching you play with your cat, being honored that he was trusted enough to feed the damn thing?

It probably was. But hell, if he was going to let it stop this corruption of your innocence. No. Instead, Daemon grabbed you by the shoulders and bit down on the hollow of your throat, playfully. You made a small sound, like a caught animal. He could tell you were getting ready to succumb to pleasure once more. His hedonist little wife, always ready to be put in a kiss drunk state. You turned liquid in his arms when it happened, going lax over him.

Daemon could tease you some more. Or… He leans in, breathing in your scent, before blowing a giant raspberry by the side of your neck. You shriek in laughter, squirming on his lap. Water is sent flying everywhere. He peppers your face and neck in kisses as you do, laughing st your squeals and squirming.

“Daemon.” You say, after a while, when the both of you have calmed down. Your head rests on his shoulder, expression hidden.

“Little niece.” He whispers, and you tremble at the endearment.

“I have decided something.” You whisper back. Somehow, your voice feels loud in the cave of the hot spring, nothing but the soft murmur of water being heard.

“You have?” Daemon asks, heart thumping in his chest as if he has just taken to the skies in Caraxes. He pulls you out of hiding, lifting your head towards him.

“I want to marry you right.” You say, shyly. You look deeply embarrassed. “Under my faith. So we can…” You trail off, averting your eyes.

“So we can..?” Daemon asks, feeling a triumphant grin spread over his face.

“Have a child.”

And oh, it is the most wonderful thing he has even heard. He will buy you a cloak, and a couple of ribbons for the hand fasting. He will find the two of you a home. Daemon says all this, as he presses his forehead against yours. Not even his conquest of the Stepstones felt as sweet.

[moonlight-joy]

The Rogue’s Claim

Fandom: House of Dragon

Summary: You are a noblewoman from a powerful Valyrian house that rivals the Targaryens. Your betrothal to another man doesn’t sit well with Daemon, who has desired you for years. On the eve of your wedding, Daemon sneaks into your chambers with an outrageous proposal.

Pairing: Reader/Daemon Targaryen

The grand halls of your family’s estate shimmered with opulence. Gilded candelabras lined the walls, casting a golden glow over the silk tapestries that depicted the glory of your Valyrian lineage. Tomorrow, the estate would host a wedding—your wedding. Yet as the eve of your union approached, you felt no joy, no anticipation. Only dread.

You sat by the window of your chambers, the soft light of the moon spilling over your silver hair, a trait that marked your Valyrian heritage. The weight of your betrothal hung heavy on your heart. It was a strategic match, one that would secure your family’s power and elevate their standing even further. But it was not a match of your choosing.

And it was not with him.

Daemon Targaryen. The Rogue Prince. The man who had haunted your thoughts and your dreams for years. His presence had always been magnetic, his charm as dangerous as the fire that ran through his veins. You had known from the start that he was trouble. Yet, no matter how much you tried to bury your feelings, Daemon had ignited a flame within you that refused to die.

Tonight, that flame would consume you.

The soft creak of the door startled you from your thoughts. You turned sharply, your heart pounding as a shadow slipped into the room. The firelight caught on silver hair and violet eyes, and you knew instantly who it was.

“Daemon,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “What are you doing here?”

He smirked, the corner of his mouth curling in that infuriatingly confident way. “You didn’t think I’d let you go so easily, did you?”

“You shouldn’t be here,” you said, though your words lacked conviction. “If my family finds you…”

“Let them find me,” he interrupted, stepping closer. His voice was low, dangerous, filled with the kind of promise that made your pulse race. “If I can’t have you, no one will.”

You stood, your hands clutching the fabric of your gown as if it could anchor you. “Daemon, please. Tomorrow, I—”

“Tomorrow, you’ll bind yourself to a man you don’t love,” he growled, his eyes blazing with anger and desperation. “A man who doesn’t deserve you. Do you think I’ll stand by and watch that happen?”

Tears stung your eyes as his words cut through you. “And what would you have me do?” you asked, your voice breaking. “If I leave with you, I lose everything.”

Daemon reached for you, his hands warm and steady as they cupped your face. “No,” he said, his tone softening. “You gain everything. You gain freedom. You gain love. You gain me.”

Your breath hitched as his words settled over you. For years, you had dreamed of this moment, of him choosing you, fighting for you. Yet the weight of duty and family loyalty bore down on you like chains.

“They’ll never forgive me,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “My family… the realm…”

“Let them burn,” Daemon said fiercely. “You are fire itself. You don’t belong to them. You belong to me, as I belong to you.”

The intensity in his gaze, the raw vulnerability beneath his defiance, broke something inside you. Tears slipped down your cheeks, and Daemon’s thumb gently wiped them away. “Say the word, and we’ll leave tonight,” he urged. “We’ll run far away from all of this.”

“And where would we go?” you asked, your voice barely audible.

“Anywhere,” he replied. “Everywhere. As long as we’re together.”

Your heart warred with your mind. The life you had been raised to embrace, the expectations placed upon you—they all paled in comparison to the man standing before you, offering you his heart and his freedom.

Finally, you whispered, “Take me away from here.”

The night air was crisp as you and Daemon slipped through the shadows of your family’s estate. Without dragons to carry you, the journey ahead would be long and treacherous. But Daemon had planned for this. Two horses waited just beyond the gates, their breaths misting in the cold night air.

Daemon helped you mount, his hands lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary. “Stay close to me,” he said, his voice firm. “No matter what happens.”

“I will,” you promised, your heart pounding with a mixture of fear and exhilaration.

The two of you rode through the night, the sound of hooves echoing against the silence. The world seemed to blur around you, the weight of your decision pressing against your chest. Yet, for the first time in years, you felt alive.

As the journey stretched on, you found solace in Daemon’s presence. Around campfires under starlit skies, he spoke of a future where no one could dictate your fate. His words painted a vision of freedom, of a life where you could simply be together without the weight of expectation.

“We’ll make a new life,” Daemon said as the first light of dawn crept over the horizon. “One where no one can tell us who to be or how to love.”

For the first time in years, you felt hope bloom in your chest. The path ahead was uncertain, but with Daemon by your side, you knew you could face anything.

“I’m yours,” you said, turning to look at him. “And you are mine.”

Daemon’s smile was soft, his eyes filled with a love that burned brighter than dragon fire. “Always,” he vowed.

Days turned into weeks as the two of you made your way farther from the reach of your family. Each village and town you passed through seemed to blur into the next, but the freedom you felt was intoxicating. For the first time in your life, you weren’t just surviving—you were living.

One evening, as the two of you rested near a quiet stream, Daemon handed you a small, carved trinket—a dragon made of polished obsidian. “I saw this in the last town,” he said, his voice softer than usual. “It reminded me of you.”

You turned the small figure over in your hands, touched by the thoughtfulness of the gesture. “Because I’m as stubborn as a dragon?” you teased, smiling.

“No,” he said, his gaze locking with yours. “Because you’re as fierce and beautiful as one.”

Your cheeks warmed, and you leaned in to press a kiss to his lips. “And you’re impossible,” you whispered against his mouth. “But I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

Despite the joy you found in each other, the shadow of your family’s reach loomed ever-present. One fateful day, as you and Daemon rested at an inn far from the capital, a rider arrived bearing your family’s sigil. You spotted him through the window, the sight sending a chill down your spine.

“They’ve found us,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Daemon was at your side in an instant, his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Let them come,” he said, his voice a low growl. “They’ll regret it.”

You placed a hand on his arm, stopping him. “We can’t fight them, Daemon. Not here. Innocent people will get hurt.”

His jaw tightened, but he nodded. “Then we’ll leave. Again.”

And so, the two of you vanished once more into the night, leaving behind the life you had started to build. But even as the road stretched endlessly before you, one thing remained constant: the love you and Daemon shared. It was a fire that refused to be extinguished, no matter how many forces tried to snuff it out.

As the sun set on another day, you turned to Daemon and said, “Thank you. For choosing me. For fighting for me.”

He pulled you into his arms, his lips brushing against your forehead. “I’ll always choose you,” he said. “No matter what it takes.”

And in that moment, you knew that as long as you had Daemon, you had everything you needed.

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[wholoveseggs]

Mistress

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

{Daemon Targaryen X Rhaenyra Targaryen x Reader} It's a stormy night on Dragonstone and you seek solace in your queen's bed, but a certain king consort joins the two of you, making the evening even more interesting...

4.6k words - Warnings: smut, incest, daemyra centric, voyeurism, ffm threesome, tribbing, fingering, oral (male & female receiving) face sitting, riding, Daemon being cheeky, Rhaenyra being a bit nervous& inexperienced in pleasing a woman, lots of kisses, tons of fluff & teensy tiny bit of somnophilia ...

{Daemon Targaryen Tag-List}

@elijahstwink @starshipcookie @absolutemarveltrash @odairtrqsh @darkened-writer @cheneyq @fallout-girl219 @nina6708 @evasmlp @sadmonke @deamonloverrrr

It was well past midnight on Dragonstone, the sound of rain tapping on the stone floor filled the quiet halls of the castle. It was dark and cold but that did not bother the two lovers as they embraced in the sheets, bodies entangled in one another.

Soft moans and heavy breaths filled the room as you straddled your queen, the sheets pooling around your waists as your lips moved against her plump ones, kissing her deeply. Your fingers danced up her arms, her shoulders, and her neck before finding their way into her beautiful silver-gold hair. Her own hands were running down your back and over the curve of your ass before giving it a light squeeze.

A quiet giggle escaped your lips as she squeezed again, and you pulled away from her slightly, pressing your forehead against hers as you both gazed into each other's eyes. You could see the lust and passion as she smiled, moving a hand from your ass and up your side before cupping your cheek and bringing you back to her for another kiss.

Rhaenyra had never felt the touch of another woman before, nor the taste of her lips. Her heart was pounding in her chest, feeling you against her as she deepened the kiss. The feeling of your bare skin against her own was magic. Your warm soft breasts pressing against hers, making her nipples harden against your chest. She could feel the wetness between her thighs, and she knew you could feel it too.

"Your grace," you murmured against her lips, your soft hands caressing the young queen's face, "you are shaking," you told her, feeling her body trembling beneath you.

"I'm just a little cold," Rhaenyra lied, she felt heat flood her cheeks at the way you smiled down at her.

"Then let me warm you," you replied, pulling her closer to you as you moved a hand down her neck and between her breasts, your fingers trailing her soft pale skin. You moved down her stomach, over her navel, and through the neatly trimmed patch of hair on her mound before reaching her soaking wet center.

You watched your queen's face closely, her eyes fluttering shut as you ran a finger along the wetness, making her let out a moan, her lips parting. You smiled at her reaction and brought your finger to her pearl, rubbing the sensitive spot gently, watching as Rhaenyras skin began to flush a beautiful pink, her breathing becoming more ragged.

"Does that feel good, your grace?" you asked her, slowly moving your finger back and forth as you lowered your head and kissed her jaw.

"Yes," she breathed, her hips bucking against your touch as her hands gripped the sheets tightly.

To be intimate with a dragon felt like a dream, feeling the heat radiate off of her body, her skin glistening with sweat. It was an honor to teach her, an honor to touch her, and an honor to watch her as she was pleasured.

You gently pushed her back onto the bed, her silver-gold hair fanned out on the pillow like a halo around her head, the moonlight shining through the window, illuminating her body. You wondered if the Targaryens tasted different than other women, their blood was so close to dragon blood, the magic that was once coursing through their veins, maybe it still did, maybe it still lingered.

Rhaenyra looked up at you with wide eyes as you kissed down the valley between her breasts and over her stomach, your warm lips leaving a trail of kisses and soft bites on her skin. You glanced up at her, making sure she was okay as you kissed her mound. You could smell her sweet scent, like honey and jasmine.

Your eyes stayed locked with hers as you slowly moved down, kissing her inner thigh, your nose tickling her soft flesh. You could hear her breath catch in her throat as you pressed a soft kiss against her swollen pearl, her hips lifting up slightly at the feeling. You smiled and gave it another kiss, flicking your tongue over it before sucking it into your mouth.

You could feel her squirming beneath you, her thighs trying to close around your head. You placed a hand on her stomach, holding her still as you licked, sucked and nipped. Her moans filled the room, her back arching off the bed, her hand flying to the top of your head and pulling on your hair.

Her taste flooded your mouth as she cried out, her body shaking with her climax. You slowly eased your lips off her, moving back and reaching out your hands, pulling her into a sitting position. You kissed her shoulder, her neck, and her jaw, moving your lips up to hers, kissing her gently, letting her taste herself.

"Men, you see, don't know the first thing about a woman's body," you explained, stroking her hair gently as she tried to catch her breath, "they fail to understand just what it takes to please one."

"They can be a bit selfish, can't they?" Rhaenyra whispered, a slow smile spreading across her face as you nodded.

You giggled and wrapped your arms around her waist, pulling her flush against your body, your breasts pressed together.

The candles flickered, light bouncing off your bodies which were now glistening with a soft sheen of sweat. The sound of the heavy rainfall and the cracking of the fire drowned out the laboured breathing as you placed your leg over her hip and brought your core against hers.

Rhaenyra gasped when you made contact, and you began to rock your hips, grinding yourself against her. You held her tightly, her hands gripping your ass, squeezing and guiding you, trying to find the right rhythm.

Soft gasps and moans echoed off the stone walls as the two of you moved together, your lips brushing over hers. Rhaenyra moaned into your mouth, becoming lost in the pleasure, the heat, the wetness, the feeling of you against her.

Daemon had always loved a good storm. The sound of the hammering rain, the crack of the lightning and the rumble of thunder made his blood rush.

He had been away from home for far too long, so much that he had forgotten the tranquility Dragonstone provided. Even on nights such as these, when the weather was unpredictable, he loved the thrill of riding on Caraxes over the hills and valleys, letting the storm rage, letting the wind and rain beat his body, it was exhilarating.

But the thrill he craved the most was that of his wife. He missed his queen, his darling Rhaenyra. He missed the way they clashed together, tearing into each other with claws and teeth and desire. Nothing could tame the fire he had for her.

He landed Caraxes in the courtyard and dismounted, his boots splashing in the puddles as he strides towards the main entrance. He entered the castle and began to make his way through the dimly lit halls, heading towards the royal chambers.

Guards watched as the king consort strolled through the castle, drenched from the rain with his hair wet and braided. He was in his element here, walking the halls of his ancestral home, eyes blazing and the blood in his veins running hot.

He came to the large wooden doors of the royal chambers and opened them, entering the room and closing them behind him. The first thing he noticed was the smell. It was sweet, like honey, and the air was thick with a heady aroma.

His eye was immediately drawn to the vast windows, from which he could see the beautiful night sky and the dark and stormy seas, the rain pelted the windows and the sound echoed throughout the room.

A slither of lightning brightened up the room for a moment. the flash of light allowing Daemon to see two naked figures intertwined in a soft and untroubled sleep.

He stayed still by the door, taking in the sight of the two bodies before him. They lay on their sides facing each other, their legs and arms entwined, their hair splayed out on the pillows and their skin glistening. He could see the soft rise and fall of their chests, and the peaceful look on their faces as they slept.

He knew he deserved this, whatever this affair was. He couldn't blame his wife for seeking out affection when he provided her with none. But he would have never expected it to be her closest handmaiden.

He was intrigued by the pair and found himself approaching the bed. He could see your breasts peeking out from the sheets, the way your skin was flushed, and how your hair was sticking to your face and neck. His wife's skin was the same, her cheeks rosy and her lips parted, soft snores escaping.

This was a gift and he couldn't deny himself a taste.

He pulled off his gloves and cloak, leaving them in a heap on the floor, then he approached his wife. He leaned over her, placing a hand on her hip, feeling her warmth against his palm. He slowly slid his hand up her side and over her shoulder, caressing her cheek. He could hear her soft sigh, and her body began to stir as he gently pushed her hair away from her face.

He leaned down and placed a tender kiss on her cheek, her skin soft and supple beneath his lips. "Rhaenyra," he purred, kissing further down to her neck, sucking on the sensitive skin, "what are you dreaming about?"

She shifted a little, her head lolling to the side as he kissed her shoulder. Her lips parted, and a quiet moan escaped her, and she turned her head towards him.

"Daemon?" she muttered, her voice sleepy.

He hummed, the sound vibrating against her skin, his stubble scratching her, "wake up, love."

Her eyes slowly opened, and the realization that her husband was home washed over her.

"Daemon," she repeated, her eyes widening.

He pulled back and met her gaze, his lips curling into a wicked grin.

"Hello, my love," he said, his voice low, his tone teasing.

Her heart started to race and she looked over at you, her face reddening when she saw your sleeping form.

"She's new," Daemon commented, noticing the way she watched you, "your first, yes?"

Rhaenyra's blush darkened as she nodded.

He smiled and walked over to you, reaching out and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. His eyes scanned over your body, noticing the way the sheets barely covered your naked form.

"You have good taste," he said, his fingers brushing your cheek, his knuckles lightly grazing your lips.

She couldn't help but watch the way his eye raked over your body, how his touch lingered. It stirred something within her, something she had never felt before. She didn't feel jealous, nor did she feel embarrassed, rather she was curious.

Daemon noticed her watching, and he glanced over at her, smirking at the look on his wife's face.

"Did she teach you much?" he asked her, his fingers running down your arm.

"Some," Rhaenyra answered, her eyes following his fingers, her chest rising and falling as her breathing quickened.

"Show me," Daemon said, looking up at her.

Her eyes met his and her heart skipped a beat. She wanted to, she desperately wanted to. The idea of sharing you with him, showing him what you had taught her, ignited a fire in her, one that burned hotter than the one that burned between the two of them.

She nodded, moving towards you, her eyes locked on his.

He smiled, walking over to the nearby table and pouring himself a glass of wine. He leaned back against the table and took a sip as he watched his wife slowly wake you.

You felt a gentle touch on your cheek, a thumb brushing over your lips. Your eyes slowly fluttered open, and your gaze was met by beautiful purple ones, a loving smile gracing the lips of the young queen.

Her kiss was tender and sweet, her hand caressing your cheek as she deepened the kiss. A quiet moan escaped you, and you returned the kiss, reaching out to cup her face, pulling her closer.

The kiss quickly became heated, both of you desperate to taste and feel each other. Your hands wandered, touching and groping, and you let out a soft moan against her lips.

That's when you heard a low, raspy laugh. Your eyes shot open and you looked over Rhaenyra's shoulder and saw Daemon standing by the table, a wine goblet in his hand, his eyes fixed on you.

He smirked, raising his drink in your direction.

Your cheeks burned, realizing the king consort was watching. You quickly sat up, pulling the sheets over your body as Rhaenyra's gaze flicked between you and him.

"No, please, continue, I was enjoying the show," Daemon chuckled, taking a long swig of his wine.

You felt your cheeks heat up under his gaze and your body tensed as his eyes drifted down your naked body, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. You could tell by the growing bulge in his trousers that he was indeed turned on by what he was seeing.

His smile grew, clearly enjoying how flustered you were, how his presence had caught you off guard.

Daemon turned and walked across the room, locking the door, making a point to look at the two of you as he did so. Rhaenyra looked at you and then back at him, swallowing hard as he slowly began walking towards the bed, his footsteps echoing on the stone floor.

He pulled his tunic over his head and tossed it aside, standing before you and Rhaenyra bare-chested. His body was covered in scars from past battles, the damaged skin shining slightly in the moonlight. His eyes were burning with a fire that made the pit of your stomach flutter.

Panic flooded your mind, clouding your reasoning. You quickly scrambled out of bed, holding the sheet to your body. You bowed, your legs trembling slightly as you lowered yourself in front of him.

"M-my king conso-, f-forgive me. I-I...I'm so sorry." You stuttered, your voice shaking, feeling your heart race.

You didn't dare look up at him. You kept your head down and your eyes focused on his feet.

He chuckled, looking at his wife then back at you, taking in the sight of you kneeling before him, your body quivering and the blanket barely covering your breasts. He could see the panic in your eyes, and the way you trembled, like a small bird that had just been caught by a predator.

Daemon grabbed you by the wrist, his grip strong but gentle, pulling you to your feet and back towards the bed, pushing you down next to his wife. You gasped as your back hit the soft mattress and you looked up at him, fear and confusion in your eyes.

"Relax," he whispered, his voice low, his hand reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips.

Your gaze flicked between him and Rhaenyra. They had an intense gaze, and it was clear they had a connection, an energy, a bond. Their eyes locked onto each other, and Daemon smiled, bringing his free hand up to cup her cheek.

"She's a lovely creature, isn't she?" He mused, his eyes still on his wife.

"Yes," Rhaenyra whispered, her cheeks burning and her heart pounding.

"You enjoyed her?"

"Very much."

He hummed, his hand moving up and grasping her chin, pulling her close and kissing her.

You watched in awe as his lips moved against hers, his tongue sliding into her mouth. Rhaenyra's hands rested on his shoulders, clinging tightly to him. You could see her nipples were hard, her breasts pressing against his chest.

"I can taste her on your lips." He said, his voice low, his gaze flicking to you.

Your face turned red, and you couldn't stop staring. They were so beautiful together, their passion seemed to radiate off of them.

Rhaenyra turned to you and smiled, her cheeks flushed and her eyes full of lust.

Daemon smirked, pulling back and moving to lean against the headboard, his eye raking over your body, his cock straining against his trousers.

"Well, don't let me stop you," he said, taking another swig of his wine.

Rhaenyra's eyes sparkled with mischief as she turned back to you. She pressed her lips to yours, kissing you deeply, her hands roaming your body.

Daemon watched with a grin, his hand moving to his crotch, squeezing his erection as she kissed down your jaw, moving to your neck and over the swell of your breasts. Her lips leaving a trail of warm, wet kisses on your skin.

Daemon's eyes were fixed on the two of you as Rhaenyra's kisses traveled further down your body, stopping between your legs. You felt her warm breath on your thighs, and you couldn't help but moan softly, feeling her mouth move closer to your aching core.

"Look at me," Daemon commanded.

You turned your head, meeting his gaze, his eyes burning into you as Rhaenyra pressed a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh. Her lips traveled up and over your mound, her inexperience was evident, but the young queen was determined to prove herself.

You let out a soft whimper, your hips lifting off the bed, feeling her warm tongue slowly drag up the length of your pussy. She moved her tongue between your lips, tasting the wetness that had pooled there.

Daemon watched with amusement, his eyes darkening as Rhaenyra began to lap and suck. Her mouth was warm and wet, her tongue moving in slow circles. She was doing well, making you squirm with need.

You couldn't stop the moans from escaping your lips, your hands gripping the sheets. Daemon untied his breeches, freeing his erect cock.

It was a beautiful sight, seeing him slowly stroke himself, his gaze never leaving the two of you. To be in the presence of two dragons was an honour, but to be fucked by the two of them was something else entirely.

Daemon moved closer to the two of you, his hand reaching out, caressing the curve of your cheek. He cupped your chin and tilted your head, turning your attention away from his wife and onto him.

He leaned down and kissed you deeply, his tongue darting into your mouth. His fingers brushed over your nipples, making them harden, his teeth tugging at your lower lip.

Rhaenyra paused, looking up at the two of you kissing, watching as her husband claimed your mouth, his fingers pinching and teasing your breasts. She enjoyed the way you reacted to him, your body quivering beneath them, your hips bucking up towards her.

Daemon slowly pulled away, looking at his wife, and then back at you. His strong hands trailed down your body, his fingers dancing along the curves of your breasts, the swell of your stomach, and the dip of your navel.

Rhaenyra watched his fingers dip inside you, his thumb brushing against your swollen pearl. Your back arched, and you moaned, his touch sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

Daemon smiled and began rubbing you, his fingers moving in slow circles. Then he pulled his fingers out and pushed them past Rhaenyras lips. She sucked them clean, her cheeks flushed as she looked up at him.

"Do you like the way she tastes?" Daemon asked, pulling his fingers from her mouth.

"Yes," she replied, a smile tugging at her lips.

He let out an approving little hum, sitting up and looking down at his wife, his cock still in his hand.

"Continue," he told her.

Rhaenyra nodded and returned to her task, her tongue slow and deliberate, licking and sucking, savoring every drop of you. You felt the heat rising inside of you, the warmth spreading through your body.

You reached out and began to stroke Daemon's cock, his head falling back and his eyes closing.

"Good girl," he said, his voice low.

You pumped his cock, feeling the hard, silky flesh between your fingers, precum leaking from the tip. He moved closer and you licked the head, swirling your tongue around the tip. You could taste the saltiness as you slowly took him into your mouth, feeling the weight of him on your tongue.

You bobbed your head up and down, taking him as deep as you could, your eyes never leaving his. His eyes were dark, filled with lust, his pupils blown wide. He moaned and grabbed a handful of your hair, guiding your head up and down, fucking your mouth.

The sound of his grunts and moans filled the air, along with the soft, wet sounds of Rhaenyras mouth. She had begun to suck harder, her fingers joining her tongue, pumping in and out of you.

You moaned around his cock, the vibrations sending a wave of pleasure through his body, his hips thrusting forward.

"That's it, sweet girl," Daemon murmured, his grip tightening, pulling your hair and forcing you to look up at him. He looked beautiful, his silver hair hanging down, framing his face.

Rhaenyra was moving faster, her tongue and fingers working in tandem, the heat between her thighs intensifying. She pushed you over the edge, your thighs shaking as you came, a muffled moan escaping your lips.

Daemon pulled his cock out of your mouth, smirking as he tapped the tip against your tongue. Then his eyes drifted to his wife, her lips swollen and shining, her cheeks flushed.

He pulled her up and kissed her deeply, tasting the sweetness of your arousal on her lips. He grabbed her hips and pulled her closer, his cock pressing against her stomach.

You watched the two dragons kiss, their tongues sliding against each other, their bodies pressed together. It was a beautiful sight, their silver hair looked as though it was entwined, the moonlight making their skin shine.

Daemon broke the kiss and moved his lips to his wife's neck, sucking and biting, marking her pale skin. She gasped and moaned, her hands pressing into his chest.

You were lying there, your body still trembling from your climax, watching as the queen and king got lost in each other.

You could hear the sounds of their kissing, the soft moans and grunts, the rustling of the sheets. Rhaenyra pushed him back onto the soft bed, trailing kisses over his chest and stomach. Her fingers grazed the scars that covered his chest, the ones she knew all too well.

Daemon watched as his wife took his cock in her mouth, slowly sliding her lips up and down, taking him as deep as she could. He groaned and reached out for you, pulling you closer, his fingers tangling in your hair as he kissed you.

Rhaenyra's eyes met yours, her lips curled around her husband's cock. She looked so beautiful, her eyes wide and filled with lust, her mouth stretched and her cheeks flushed.

She slowly pulled her mouth away from him, moving up to straddle him. He gripped her hips, his eyes filled with desire, his lips parted.

He could feel her wetness against his cock, sliding up and down his length, her breasts bouncing slightly as she moved.

"Kneel for you king," he whispered against your lips, gently biting down on your bottom lip.

You pulled back, slightly confused by his request, until he gestured to his face. You blushed furiously as you realized what he wanted. You moved closer, his hands guiding you, helping you straddle his face, facing Rhaenyra.

She smirked, her eyes locked with yours as you both lowered yourselves. The two of you leaned in and shared a messy kiss, tongues slipping past swollen lips.

Daemon's hummed against you, his stubble scratching your thighs and his hands tight on your hips. He always wanted to die a dragon rider's death... But this? This was a glorious way to go.

Rhaenyra's eyes closed, her head resting on your shoulder as she began to move, her hips rocking, his cock hitting that spot deep inside her. Daemon had never felt such pure bliss, the taste of you on his tongue and the feeling of his wife riding him, the sounds of soft moans like a chorus.

The three of you were lost in the heat and the pleasure, the taste and the touch. You could hear the bed creaking, the headboard hitting the wall, the sheets rustling, the sound of lips and skin crashing against one another.

You watched the way your queen rode her husband, her body moving like water, her hips rolling and grinding against his. You reached down to where they were connected, touching her, feeling the wetness of her arousal mixed with the thickness of her husband's cock.

Daemon groaned and held you tighter, his grip on your hips almost bruising, his mouth devouring you.

Rhaenyra leaned in and kissed you, her hands cradling your face, lips crashing together. You could feel your legs beginning to tremble, the pressure of your release building.

"Cum with me," Rhaenyra purred, her forehead pressed to yours.

You nodded, with half lidded eyes, watching Rhaenyra grind her hips faster, her nails scraping down your arms as she held onto you. The pressure inside you became too much and your climax hit you hard. Rhaenyra's moans were loud and breathy, her head thrown back, her pale skin glistening with sweat, her silver hair cascading down her back and the candlelight danced across her skin.

The two of you rode out your highs, gasping and panting. Your fingers intertwined with hers, the smell of sex heavy in the air. Daemon followed soon after, a guttural moan escaping his lips, his cock twitching, his release spilling into his wife.

You slowly climbed off Daemon and collapsed on the bed, the three of you tumbling into a tangle of limbs and sheets.

Rhaenyra snuggled up next to her husband, his arms wrapping around her and pulling her close. You watched the two of them, a small smile on your lips, the love they had for each other was plain to see. Daemon looked over at you, reaching his arm out and beckoning you to him.

You scooted closer, cuddling up to him, his arm wrapping around your waist.

"This is my favorite one so far," he said softly, kissing your forehead.

Rhaenyra giggled, leaning over him to kiss you, her lips soft and warm. You felt safe and content, lying there with the two dragons, their fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin.

"Shall we keep her?" Rhaenyra asked, looking up at her husband, a lazy smile curling at her lips.

"Indeed, we shall," Daemon replied, his hand moving up and down her arm.

The three of you stayed there for a while, enjoying the closeness, the warmth and comfort of each other's bodies. You could feel your eyes beginning to close, the exhaustion creeping in, the heat from them made you feel sleepy and comfortable.

To be in the presence of not just one dragon, but two, was a great honor. But to be their mistress? Their shared lover? That was the rarest of privileges, one that you would savor for the rest of your days.