#daemyra young years

[lanaisdoe]

Yeah, the level of Viserys's obliviousness was always incredibly, satisfyingly funny :D

Literally EVERYONE knew

...everyone but Viserys... :D

"To prevent further conflict, and put an end to these “vile rumors and base calumnies,” King Viserys further decreed that Queen Alicent and her sons would return with him to court, whilst Princess Rhaenyra confined herself to Dragonstone with her sons. Henceforth Ser Erryk Cargyll of the Kingsguard would serve as her sworn shield, whilst Breakbones returned to Harrenhal. These rulings pleased no one, Septon Eustace writes. Mushroom demurs: one man at least was thrilled by the decrees, for Dragonstone and Driftmark lay quite close to one another, and this proximity would allow Daemon Targaryen ample opportunity to comfort his niece, Princess Rhaenyra, unbeknownst to the king."

Just Daemon, when he heard about the king's decree

Viserys may not have allowed Daemon and Rhaenyra to marry, but he played into their hands quite often. First, when he failed to notice his brother seducing his daughter for six months, and then when Viserys unknowingly allowed Rhaenyra to spend time with Daemon, which led to Aegon's III conception and their marriage.

[lanaisdoe]

Young love... all those years...

DAEMON and RHAENYRA ... meant to burn together...

[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.

HOTD Edition - Masterlist

Criminal Minds Edition - Masterlist

Venusbyline's Kinktober 2024 - Masterkist

[themotherofblood]

Dark!Daemyra x daughter!eeader but it’s their actual biological daughter (meaning rhaenyras the mom).

Remember in episode 4 when everyone thought that rhaenyra had her virtue taken by daemon? What if they actually had a kid?

Gosh I kinda made this a little too angsty so bare with me. I’m just really bad at writing to the point, I wanted to add some context to the smut hehe. So I hereby present

Dark!Daemyra x Daughter!reader

tw: incest, infantilism, cheating…(kinda?) murder, talks of more incest babies and kinda non con-ish? jason lannister (🤢) smut! oral, missionary kinda courrpution vibes. Threesome

7.8k words

A mistake, a grave mistake.

Not you, the one that had brightened Rhaenyra’s world with your little laugh, the one that had her hair and her uncle’s charisma - but the deed done to conceive you had been the most terrible of errors.

By right, you were Rhaenyra’s first-born child and heir; however, given the time of conception and the beautiful (pale, too pale) features you had been born with, it was obvious that you were not the offspring of Laenor Velaryon, but of her brutish uncle Daemon Targaryen. What remained were the rumours of Rhaenyra and Daemon coupling at a notorious brothel on the Street of Silk. Bastardy or the Iron Throne, that remained the question of your birthright to many. Your conception was a greater source of whispers and slander than that of your brown-haired ‘Strong’ brothers.

You weren’t raised in the Red Keep; with the brunt of the court upon your muña’s shoulders, she’d hoped to keep you shielded away from the cruel gossip that surrounded you even at the mere age of five. You hadn’t even set eyes upon her for years, making do with the letters that detailed how much she missed you and a chest full of trinkets and dolls to share with the young daughters of the vassal lords sworn to Dragonstone.

Daemon Targaryen, on the other hand was truly banished after word of his murdering his first wife Rhea Royce reached his brother’s - your grandsire’s - ears. While there was no formal accusation nor trial, Viserys was simply at his wit's end with the reckless goings-on of his younger brother. He had left Westeros even before your mother had realised that the moon tea she had consumed had not worked.

Daemon found his family elsewhere. After slaying a sea lord who was promised the hand of Laena Velaryon, he married her and then fled to Pentos with her and her dragon. The word of a Targaryen bastard being born from the Crown Princess was most certainly to spread like a plague, far enough to reach your kepa’s ears. He wanted to come back the second he heard of you, but his brother denied his request. When you were shipped off to Dragonstone, he wished to fetch you - but this time, his wife refused him, not wishing to raise the love child he had with his niece.

He had begun to send letters of Valyrian poetry, old texts of Valyrian romance and many other trinkets. You had written to him the day you claimed your dragon, which happened in a hilarious accident as you had trailed through the Dragonmont to make friends with a silver dragon, a she-dragon named Silverwing. Though the letter you had written had gone without reply, you had waited for a year and then accepted the dark truth. He had other daughters and another family. By request of the King, you were raised by Septas and the handmaidens at Dragonstone.

At present, you waited by the Painted Table. While one might not have been eager at the sound of people returning from a funeral, you indeed were. Mother had spent four moons at Dragonstone, leaving the Red Keep behind for good until the time arrived for her ascension. These four months had been bliss; you were introduced to your brothers. When you had first departed, Lucerys was still a babe suckling at Rhaenyra’s breast. Now, she returned with another little babe. -Your good-father returned as well, the one knight that could have flung your body high to the skies and caught you right in time. He had engulfed you in an embrace the moment he saw you.

Then came the letter of Laena Velaryon’s passing, and the world shifted under your good-father’s feet. With respect to Laena’s memory and the illegitimacy of your station, the Queen Alicent had advised Rhaenyra to not have you come along with the family. You were accustomed to such treatment; it mattered not. Yet the news of your kepa’s return churned your belly. You had never laid eyes on the man, having seen a mere few portraits hung in the grand galleries at Dragonstone. He looked much like you when he was a babe, and yet the older he grew you imagined him to be the embodiment of the courteous knights you read of in your books.

You had worn your nicest dress, and your preparations had begun with digging through all the letters he had ever sent you, having the chefs prepare his favourite foods and procuring a fat sheep for Caraxes. The household staff all lined themselves up by the halls. It had been years since their Rogue Prince returned home. While many admired the man, others feared him. Regardless of his reputation, there had been respect for his name upon every rock on the island.

Rhaenyra had walked in first with your brothers, her face softening at seeing you looking eagerly at the grand doors. She hugged you, rubbing the side of your arms as she stood behind you. Your sisters… You weren’t sure if they would have taken it well if you called them such. They were introduced first as a knight called out their titles. They bowed first, reminding you that you were a Princess and they only ladies. Then, everything went silent - you heard the thudding of boots before your vision was clouded by the image of shoulder-length silver hair.

Daemon Targaryen stood atop the steps, hands held together in front of him. He commanded the room with just his purple eyes. Your eyes. You were so entranced by his presence you almost forgot to ask about your good-father. He approached you, a princely smile upon his lips, and you failed to keep your lady-like composure.

The first thing that came from his mouth was your name. Your name had never sounded so wondrous as it did at that very moment. He greeted you, and your voice abandoned you as you opened your mouth to return his niceties. You must have looked like a fool, mouth parted as no words came forth. Your mother’s voice snapped you from whatever had possessed you.

“The honour is mine, my Prince,” you said, bowing your head. You wanted nothing more than to call him kepa - but there was so much unsaid. It didn’t seem appropriate to you at the moment.

Another two fortnights passed, and you were still grappling with the thought that both the people that created you now sat with you as you broke fast. Your brothers again ran wild in your chambers and now, you had two little sisters - twins.

One night, your mother came to your room, looking far happier than she usually was as she sat at the edge of your bed. You put your book away on your lap, awaiting whatever it is she wanted to tell you.

“Your kepa and I are to be wed!”

You had helped dress her for the very day. Your legitimacy was now sealed with fire and blood as your parents swore their vows to the Fourteen Flames. You had hand-lit every yellow and red candle along with your siblings, being perhaps the happiest you had been in all your life. Maester Gerardys had perhaps shared your joy, having raised you in these very halls and witnessing your disappointment whenever there had been no letter from Rhaenyra nor Daemon.

Their marriage was beautiful. Both looked far deeper in love than any poet could ever profess in words. There was longing, a sense of time lost between them. Perhaps, in a way - as they looked at you after sealing their union with a kiss - you were their love made flesh and bone, their blood running through your veins. Two ears, ten fingers and toes, and eyes that flared with the same longing Rhaenyra and Daemon had so long had for one another.

Both made concerted efforts between the sheets to reclaim the years lost, and they made efforts with you, offering you the attention you deserved from them. Daemon smiled ear-to-ear as he saw you loving up against his grandmother’s former mount, an elegant creature that matched your demeanour.

Daemon had once said “the gods give, as they take away.” Those words had come to royally interrupt the quaint life he lived with his family at Dragonstone. Word was to indefinitely spread about him marrying his niece, and soon did it grace the ears of his brother - and his cunt of a Hand. A white raven, the symbol of urgency, bore the demand that the entire household of the Blacks were to present themselves at Viserys’s court. There was no indication of whether the King approved or not, but naught was to be done other than abide by his brother’s demands. Thus, the older children mounted their dragons along with Daemon and Rhaenyra and set the course for their journey to the Red Keep.

Your memories had been rather faint of these halls. You remembered walking them and all your heart felt was its cold aura. It wasn’t home. Their welcome hadn’t been warm to be sure - a wheelhouse had received you at the Dragonpit alongside your parents, Baela, Rhaena and Jacaerys. Your Septa had squeezed you into a tight corset, one that you had never worn before, your hair braided far too tight for your liking. It was how the ladies dressed at court, they had told you.

The Targaryen guards had led your family straight to the Throne Room. Crowds of people assembled on both sides and the gallery crawled with young ladies, some your age, some younger. You had slotted yourself behind your kepa’s larger frame, finding an odd urge to hide as every eye in the room seemed to have been fixated on you and every whisper called your name. You hoped you were a lady enough to satiate whatever expectations these strangers had thrust upon your shaking hands.

Viserys was furious, as furious as he could be given his condition. He wasn’t the man you remember, his full cheeks and the head of hair that you had inherited and a hand gone. He pulled himself by using his sword Blackfyre as a cane, accusing his brother - your sweet kepa - of terrible obscenities. You wanted to defend him, you truly did. You wanted to scream, lecture the court on the man Daemon Targaryen really was. Of how much he loved his family, so much so that he had abandoned you the day his late wife begged him so.

There was much said and done, most of which made the corners of your eyes water with furious tears as you reached for your mother’s hands. Everything Viserys and Otto Hightower questioned about their union directly mirrored your existence.

It was a sham. You weren’t a sham.

It was a manipulation. You weren’t a lie.

It was a crime, that much was true; you were a bastard, after all. You were Rhaenyra’s first-born, yet stood to inherit nothing. You were the shield that politically protected your brothers. This marriage put everything into question. Who were you anymore?

What you were was a perfect example and a trap for Otto Hightower to lay in the King’s lap, offering you as an auspicious match with House Lannister. Of course, the words were never to be said, but this marriage was a blessing from the gods for the likes of you. You were ambushed by the Small Council on the second day of your return to the Red Keep.

The second the name of Jason Lannister spilt through your grand-sire’s lips, Rhaenyra was outraged. Never had you witnessed her this crazed over something, her eyes dark and voice low. She matched the intimidating aura of your father, perhaps giving you a glimpse of the similarities between them.

“She is to be my heir!” Rhaenyra argued, her voice booming through the chambers. “I will not have you sell her like you tried with me, father!”

The debate had grown heated. Jason was a proud man, from what you had heard, and your mother fought on your behalf for a different right altogether. For once (in your own stupidity) you saw purpose, a purpose you viewed as your grand-sire’s affection; a sense of duty you had never felt before. After so long spending your days wandering in the world of your own head, for once you felt a woman. A false sense of naive hope. When Rhaenyra urged that they in the least listen to what you had to say, your words echoing through the chambers were the last thing she expected.

“I will do my duty if that is what the King wishes,” you nervously mumbled. “The throne would not agree with me, mother.”

That had been five years ago. You were a proud lion now, or so said the letters that you sent home every other moon. You had been a dutiful wife to Jason Lannister, to be sure. Your bastardy had been allayed by the magnificent dragon you claimed, and your womb that would finally bring the glory of possessing dragon eggs to the Lannister name. He had been a good husband to you, showering you with gold and fineries beyond your needs, a perfectly dolled-up Targaryen wife dressed in the crimsons and gold of the Lannister heritage. You wanted to enjoy it, you truly did. You had craved such attention from a young age, but something in your mind nagged that it wasn’t genuine.

You spent much of your time hidden in the library, which Lord Jason had at first said would have made your little head spin.

You had claimed victory over it in a mere year, and so you had asked for more books; if he was to spoil you so, perhaps he could provide you with something of more use. And yet, your chests continued to be filled with more jewellery, the finest dresses and boots. You would scold yourself for not finding joy in this. There were children starving in the country and you complained of fine dresses being too much.

The love-making between you was respectable, quick. It was far easier than the complicated mess your Septa had chastely told you about. You would spread your legs for him and just lay there. However, once the first year of your union passed and you still hadn’t borne a child, things grew ugly.

Jason had been dismissive at first, petting your head and claiming your youth as the impediment of your lack of conception. Then, it was the Maesters hounding you with ways to be with child. from putting your legs high in the air after being pumped full of your lord husband’s seed to avoiding wines at feasts. They recommended positions to be placed in; then, they requested that you refrain from dragon riding. Your favourite foods were targeted soon after, the spices in them after that; and soon, your meals were left with just salt in them.

That bled to the third year of your marriage. The gossip that had been abandoned because of your wedding was now set ablaze yet again. You suffered it all with a stiff lip.

The latest requirement had been for you to remain abed for most of the day, a consequence for going against your husband’s wishes and riding Silverwing after eight moons without. There was just something in her eyes that begged you to ride her, perhaps to save you from your own misery. When you returned, you had been grateful that you rode her.

The flattery that your lord husband had doted upon you with before bedding you had long faded with frustration. Couplings had always been a chore, but now it was painful as you laid there wishing for it to end. He would enter your chambers, undoing his doublet and you just knew. You would push down your small-clothes and spread your legs for him before returning to slumber alone. You had counted every petal embroidered onto your canopy as Jason grunted in your ear. You would run your fingers down his back, his hair, hoping to make him peak sooner.

One night, you simply couldn’t bring yourself to lay with him from how exhausted you had been, barely being able to eat the boiled food and enduring yet another feast that ran from dusk to dawn. You refused him politely, hoping that he would lounge with you or leave you to your endeavours alone. Instead, he lectured you on your duty, his breath stinking of strong wine as he forcefully yanked you towards your bed. You had protested, fought against his hold, but it had no effect on him. He had easily torn through your shift as he had turned you to your belly. All you remembered were the stern words of your inability to provide him with heirs when the whores down at brothels of Lannisport had already birthed bastards for him, your head shoved into the pillow to muffle your protests, and then the dread as you felt his seed from within you spill onto your sheets.

He took you in such a manner twice more, growing further irate with the judgments of his family. He was your husband - he had the right. That was, until your sheets were stained in red once more. The handmaidens and the maesters all huffed in defeat yet again, and you were sure your husband had been at a brothel for his business down at Lannisport.

So you ran.

Silverwing roared as she perched herself upon Casterly Rock, scaring the knights in their golden helms away. She flew you swiftly through the skies, heading towards the one place you felt the safest, the one place you should have returned to years before.

“Dārilaros, Silverwing ēza sepār māzigon naejot se Dragonmont,” a Dragonkeeper hastily informed Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra’s eyes shot to Daemon who was seated next to her by the Painted Table as they went over season books for the fourth moon. They wasted no time in hurrying past Aegon’s Garden to see you, their daughter, dismounting Silverwing in a red gown. They rejoiced, finally setting eyes upon their blood after five years. The second you laid eyes upon your mother, you rushed to engulf her. Daemon wrapped his arms around both his wife and you, placing a kiss atop your head.

You had returned to your bedchamber in the Sea Dragon Tower, claiming that you were overdue a visit and your duties had freed you for long enough to fly home. Neither Daemon nor Rhaenyra were daft; you had arrived devoid of any riding clothes, dressed in a heavy gown and jewellery. With no clothes nor belongings, it was obvious that something had happened, but they allowed you your space.

You were overjoyed at being able to let your hair down and wear your old gowns. You had slept that night, sprawled across your bed like a happy child, fed and tucked in.

As the days passed, you were introduced to your new siblings - not half-siblings, but ones who shared the same parentage, the same blood as you. You learned of the toddler named Aegon and a babe of one and eight moons named Viserys, and the healthy girl your mother had named Visenya. You found much joy in meeting them. They reminded you of your childhood, though you were perhaps a little envious that they would grow up in much better circumstances than you did.

Rhaenyra had found you one afternoon, humming a Valyrian lullaby to Visenya, the words of which you had forgotten years before but you had hummed to yourself at nights to remind yourself of the memory of home. You were the blood of the dragon; you were the daughter of dragons. That glint of sorrow in your eyes had told Rhaenyra all that she needed to know.

“It is a matter of heirs,” she had told Daemon as he helped her onto their marital bed. “I fear what they might have imposed on her, Daemon.”

Rhaenyra knew first-hand of Jason Lannister’s pride.

“She doesn’t look herself anymore,” Daemon agreed. While Rhaenyra dreamt of a beneficial way of helping you, Daemon had already dreamt of a far more violent one, for years beforehand.

A prideful man with a runaway bride has never been a great song. Jason had set sail himself to retrieve his wayward wife from Dragonstone, winged beast to lead back into your golden cage. His ship was filled with more trinkets and fineries to sway you and your parents to hand you back to him, a place he believed you belonged.

He presented himself at Rhaenyra’s court as she sat the throne at Dragonstone. Without an inkling of enthusiasm or warmth, she accepted her son-in-law’s presence with Daemon standing next to her, also unimpressed by the blonde fool.

“I have come to convey my sweet wife home. Casterly Rock is much too cold without her fire,” he cajoled, his voice echoing through the Chamber of the Painted Table.

Rhaenyra had sent for you the second she had greeted your husband in the chambers. You arrived but moments later, your cheeks filled with colour from devouring your lunch of roast goose. Your feet abruptly halted the moment you saw the hair yellowish-blonde hair, knowing it could mean only one thing. Rhaenyra’s eyes caught yours first, and then your husband turned to find you in what he would deem a distasteful gown.

You hiked your skirts and bolted down the other corridor, paying no mind to the rain pouring heavily outside and running through Aegon’s Garden. Silverwing had already perched herself atop the Dragonmont as she had felt your distress. Her roar echoed with the thundering in the clouds above. Daemon chased after you, his quick feet catching up to yours with ease.The household guard blocked your path from exiting through the gates of Dragonstone.

“No, no! Please!” you wailed as Daemon caught onto your hands. “I cannot go back! Please, don’t send me back!”

Daemon’s eyes flared in concern over your distraught face. He opened his mouth to reassure you, but you only screamed louder over the heavy pattering of rain.

“I will throw myself off the Windwrym Tower if you send me with him! Please, please, do not make me go back,” you cried. Your kepa pulled you closer, shushing your pained sobs as you begged harder.

Daemon had managed to reassure you that no one would force you back to Casterly Rock unless you wished it so. He had been horrified at how miserable you must be to threaten your own life in order to remain at Dragonstone, and his blood boiled to learn the truth of the matter. Rhaenyra had the servants prepare a room for your lord husband in an entirely different tower. You felt secure in knowing that Jason wouldn’t be allowed in the Sea Dragon Tower since it housed your chambers as well as your parents' chambers a floor above.

This is where you were brought after your handmaidens had helped you out of your soaking wet gown, huddled by the hearth crackling with a freshly stoked fire, a blanket of soft furs and a cup of warm tea in your hands. While you chose to sit on the floor, Daemon sat on his armchair, hoping to make you speak. Your wet hair clung to the sides of your face, a face that was once filled with so much light. Now, it hid something from him, and he couldn’t bear it.

“If you won’t tell me what happened, I cannot protect you,” he urged, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “What has happened, zaldrītsosi?”

You shook your head once more, making Daemon groan in frustration. You played with the rim of the tea cup, circling your finger around it, over and over again. You felt your father’s frustrations, gods know you had endured it yourself for years. In truth you were embarrassed of your inability to be a good wife, perhaps the harshness your lord husband had showed you- you deserved it.

The chamber door opened once more with Rhaenyra finally making her way to you, while Daemon felt clueless about what caused your outburst. Rhaenyra had her suspicions, she shuffled her skirts to lower herself next to you, she didn’t ask a thing but just wrapped her arms around your shoulders. Letting you know that you were taken care of, that you were home. Whatever tactic was this, it worked as the first words of your confession echoed through the chambers.

“I cannot go back,” you said, “He deserves to find another wife.”

You had tried to be the loveable wife your mother had been to both her husbands. She bore three sons for the first and three more children for your kepa, within the matter of five years when you couldn’t even conceive one.

“He is lucky to have a wife like you,” Rhaenyra pressed a kiss to your temple.

You shook your head again “I’m not so…perfect like you.”

Rhaenyra frowned, never once had she wanted you to feel this inferior but your insecurities had been radiating through your skin. Daemon remained silent, letting his wife coax your reasoning out of you, perhaps you would do it quicker so he could fetch Dark Sister and resolve the matter.

“Lord Jason is my husband, he has a right to be sure,” you whispered, nuzzling further into Muña's embrace. “The way he held me down, for refusing to lay with him…” your voice trailed “I n-never want to feel that, ever again.”

Daemon saw red, even more so for the reason that you had not a clue of what had happened to you. A crime he had dismembered many during his days as the commander of the gold cloaks, his wife’s eyes shot to him. Silently begging him to not act on his anger just yet, he agreed - you needed them more. Your cries were silent, calmer than the onslaught before, Daemon let your head as you whimpered in your mother’s arms.

Somewhere along the evening you had succumbed to your exhaustion, Daemon had carried you into their bed and tucked you in. The silence left Rhaenyra and Daemon with a grave decision, they would have to petition Viserys to have your marriage annulled, however to lay the history of what you had suffered bare in court. The plea had to come from you, Rhaenyra had shuffled under the furs that night, her warm fingers trying to soothe the frown you sported even in you sleep. Daemon hummed that familiar lullaby as you stirred, feeling their bodies mould to yours - only this time you remembered the words.

Come morning, Rhaenyra had sent for Jason Lannister early in the morning; she had left her lady in waiting - Elinda Massey - to watch after you as you slept sprawled across their bed. In very distasteful words, Rhaenyra shunned your husband, Daemon stood beside her with his hand eagerly gripped around the pompel of Dark Sister. He paced back and forth, internally begging his wife to let him have the Lannister cunt’s head.

When you awoke, Elinda had helped you prepare yourself for the day. Your shoulders felt lighter, like a burden lifted from your shoulders. A content smile had finally adorned your face as you lounged in your parents chambers (far too elated). Rhaenyra returned from court with Daemon at her heel, trying to walk away the burning rage within her before she greeted you. She had sat you down, telling you of how Jason had returned to Casterly Rock and that the Blacks were to petition the royal court once more to have your marriage annulled. You threw your arms around Rhaenyra, profusely thanking her as she petted your hair.

Rhaenyra’s eyes lingered over your face for a little longer, the fullness of your cheeks, the purple of your eyes; gave her glimpses of herself and Daemon. There was something that overcame her, a subject Daemon and Rhaenyra had spoken at length about - first after their wedding night and second was last night. Her thumbs stroked your cheeks before her rosy lips found yours, it wasn’t a chaste kiss and yet the feeling that churned in you belly. You had yearned to feel it through the five torturous years of your marriage, when she pulled away you were stunned. Eyes glossed and mind in shambles.

“You are the glorious thing that came from us, sweet girl,” she whispered “you are to remain with us now, forever.”

She had pulled you up to stand in between your kepa and her, he was silently observing your reactions. You felt entrapped, not in the malicious way you had been caged in your marital bed, but the tenderness they had for you anchored you down, engulfing you in warmth. Daemon turned to hold your face in his hands, his roughed digits stroking at your heated blush stained cheeks.

“Let us take you the way you were meant to, let us show you riñītsos,” he requested. What were you to do? Pull away from the affection you were being dotted with after beggin for it for years. You nodded, mumbling a meek yes.

Rhaenyra turned you towards her again, both kepa and her working with haste to strip your body off your gown, leaving trails of sweet kisses upon your pale skin. The back of your neck to the pulsing at your wrists, they showed you reasons to live; showed reasons of why you were the most precious thing in the Known world. The smell from Rhaenyra’s flowered soaps mixed with Daemon’s woody ones, encasing you between their larger frames. You perked breasts spilt free first, your mother’s warm mouth immediately trapped the pebble between her lips. Suckling to harden them, and leave bruises of passion apon your milky skin. Daemon joined her efforts, his lips claiming your neck as he held you hand.

You couldn’t breathe, one would find lust, passion or even contentment within the feel of their lips but a deeper pit bubbles in your stomach. When you blinked your eyes open, they welled in tears and your breath hitched. Fighting to take in a bigger gasp of air, the years went on and you truly felt as beastly as they saw Silverwing. One incapable being found desirable, that your husband would resort to pumping bastards into tavern whores. You face scrunched, scolding yourself to enjoy this and yet you didn’t want them to see you bare; perhaps they would hate you too.

Rhaenyra’s eyes softened the moment she saw your discomfort and kissed your cheek. Hoping you would confess your feelings without coaxing.

“I won’t be to your liking,” you hung your head low, more tears streamed down your face.

“Nonsen - you are the most beautiful girl in the Known world,” Rhaenyra reassured, lifting your face to look at her. Perhaps it was something in her eyes that made you want to believe her flattery.

“How can you know?” You sniffed, wiping the tears with your wrists.

“We made you, who else would know better?” Daemon said, his voice softer than usual as looked down at you.

Mother had been incapable of bedding Daemon since birthing Visenya two moons ago, she was still healing. They believed that it was your husband’s incapacity to impregnate you; all your life at Dragonstone your moonblood’s course had been near perfect. It was to their benefit, your womb deserved to carry pure Valyrian babes anyhow. A witted mind may even see this as an advantage, with you as Rhaenyra’s heir. The silver of your hair, the smile that matched Daemon’s and little Valyrian babes of your own. Your mother’s claim would remain untouchable.

Daemon had led you to their bed, perhaps now your own. Rhaenyra had stripped herself to just her corset and chemise, while she intended on assisting her husband she would be a fool to not find pleasure in Daemon bedding you. Your father had been displeased as you crawled into bed and spread your legs open for him. While he admired the gesture of you presenting yourself to him, he tutted at how bereft of pleasures you were.

“Fucking is a pleasure you see, for the man and woman,” he had sultry eyes set upon you as he devices of ways to have you screaming for him.

Your legs already remained parted for him as you held your inner thighs, you were expecting his cock to penetrate you and yet he was fully clothed. It was horror that filled you next as Daemon kneeled by the edge of the bed, his fingers gently stroked the sides for your mound before he flattened his tongue on your slit.

“K-kepa what are you d-,” a whine tore through your lips as you felt his lips suckling at your sensitive flesh. Daemon feasted on your cunny, like a delicacy with exotic flavours plated just for him. You muña had skittles herself next you, bracketing a leg to hold your thigh open as she paid much needed attention to your nipples. Her fingers toyed with one as her mouth nibbled on the other.

The throes of coupling were all you’d known awhile you dutifully suffered in the sheets, this - this - was tenacious; never ending as it hurtled you further into its depravity. The sounds of your squelching cunt and Daemon humming against your folds as Rhaenyra whispered the sweetest of endearments in your ears, their little girl…made just for them to ruin.

Daemon locked his palm against your, tangling your fingers between in him a silent call of, he was here for you, he would take care of you. Rhaenyra caressed your flushed face, the tickle of delicate fingertips distracted you from your insecurities. Your cunny felt the stretch of your Kepa's fingers, his thick digit knuckle deep within you. You hadn’t realised your body could even feel this way, so weightless that all you felt was the throbbing around your puffy bud. The textures on his tongue fondling with the tender flesh, how soft his actions were along with your mother’s ministrations of keeping the rest of your bare body ablaze.

You found your voice, as your breathy mewls turned to a shameless moans because of Daemon’s finger gracing a foreign spot within you; pumping in and out repeatedly. Your hips hiked off the bed, grinding into your kepa’s mouth. He gently held your hip down, you arched you back, unable to decipher the waves of tingles that ran up your thighs.

“Please, please!” you begged, unsure of it as you pleaded for, all you body seemed to yell at you was to find the ending.

A sudden, furious bliss burst through your core; you hadn’t felt anything like it before. You screamed their name, praying to the Gods to save you. You felt his tongue still laying soft licks on your bed as your thighs clenched around his head. You fell flat back against the beds, heavy breathing as you tried to gather your bearings.

“Wh- what…?” You couldn’t finish the question clouding your mind, your words lost on your lips.

“That sweet girl…was your peak,” Rhaenyra gingerly placed a kiss upon your temple. Her fingers mindlessly trailed up and down the valley of her breasts.

My peak…my peak you had incoherently whispered under your breath. “Will you bed me now?” You looked at your father expectantly.

“Would you like me too… would you like kepa to pump you full of his seed?” He whispered against your folded thighs as he pressed wet kisses across your pale flesh.

Your head eagerly nodded, wanting to feel more of what the art of pleasures had to offer. You wanted this ecstasy that Daemon spoke off. You wanted to drown yourself in it, having someone touch you so brutally broke a part of your aura - tragically - but your kepa and muña sewed your pieces back together. A cascading light that hurtled towards misery now floated high above the clouds, happy as you should have been.

“Say it riñītsos,” Rhaenyra whispered against your lips.

“Please bed me, kepa,” you asked, eyes flaring purple as did theirs. You shuffled against his hold on your thighs, the skin w clawing at your insides.

Daemon looked at Rhaenyra and chuckled, shaking his head at your niceties. “Such a polite thing, our daughter.” Rhaenyra indulged in stripping her husband for you, peeling his doubly away from him before freeing him from his breeches. Your kepa’s member was far more monstrous than your lord husband’s, it spurred a fear under your chest; the memories of bedding and the last night you had shared Jason’s bed were fresh within your mind. Daemon caught onto the apprehension that flared in the purple of your eyes. He pressed a kiss to your knee. “M’ going to be gentle…unless you ask me not to be,”

You hadn’t understood what he meant but your heart eased, preparing yourself to feel the bitter stretch of his bulbous tip at your entrance. Braced in position you waited for the burn to flare through your nethers but it never came. Merely the pressure of the hard line pushing you open, a little uncomfortable at best but the pain you had expected was nowhere to be found. You blinked your eyes upon, pulling yourself to grace upon where yours and Daemon’s body connected. You hissed at the fullness but appeared shocked, you looked to him; his eyes softened at the state of your discovery. Coupling was never meant to be a chore.

Rhaenyra circled her fingers upon your yearning pearl, you greedily raised your head pleading for her to kiss you and so she did. Her rounded mouth moulded against yours, a kiss that once rose bile to your throat - the tongues being far too much - your kittenish hum invited her in willingly. You could taste your shared breath, commanding you with the grape scent of her lips. Daemon had begun rocking himself, determined strokes rutting into your - his sweet cunny - his baby’s warm walls as he could barely contain himself from watching your mother dote upon you with honeyed vulgarity.

Daemon grunted, wanting to feel the touch of your lips as he tucked his hands behind the small of your back. You held your kepa’s face in your hands, lifting yourself just enough to taste the spiced wine that linger on his lips; his tongue raspily greeted yours. You mewled into his mouth, legs wrapping around his rear as your Rhaenyra and Daemon took turns whispering sweet obscenities in your ear. They made this cunny for them to use… kepa would breed you swollen of his Valyrian babes, pure babes. There perfect little dragon

Naught was of importance as you begged kepa to piston within you harder, you body smothered between the ones of your blood (warm, far too warm). Trickles of tears that fell from the corners of your eyes disappear in your hairline, Daemon wiped them - grunting louder - with his adoration directed straight st you. Rhaenyra had pulled him closer for a kiss, tasting you upon his lip as his hammering never once faltered. You wanted to peak again, you wanted to fly again.

“K-kepa, I- so good,” your words muddled at the tip of your tongue, but the way your cunt fluttered around his cock. There was just one reason to be sure. He looked to Rhaenyra, a short nod of his followed with your muña fingers working in tighter - quicker - circles around your throbbing nub.

“Oh - that’s it, pretty girl, come for kepa…wet his cock,” Rhaenyra cooed at you, your back arched off the bed. A longing whine tore through your lip, pleading Daemon to go harder. He obliged, haunching his body over as his shoulders laid flush against your chest. His heavy stones slapping against your rear. You wanted it, your insides clawed at you to peak.

“Our sweet little dragon, come - come now.”

Daemon’s order hadn’t gone unheard, in true fashion of a father’s daughter you peaked for him, your pleasures gushing through you core as your scream lodged itself at the back of your throat. Leaving only whimpers and squeaks behind as your finger nails dug into Daemon’s shoulder.

Days had passed since, once you had tasted the world of pleasures, the next four day you had spent either bouncing on your kepa’s cock; begging him to fill your cunt or muña fingers pulling peak after peak from your body.

The moment of truth arrived sooner that you had expected, you had flown to court once more. Viserys had been gravely ill, as a mourning grandchild your heart ached for what had become of the once proud king. As a wronged wife, you feared if Otto Hightower would have your best intentions in sight. Whil by marriage it would have been appropriate for you to wear an alarmingly bright red gown and jewellery of gold. You had come dressed in the darker crimsons of your house as you stood in between your kepa and muña.

Jason Lannister presented an elaborate case, claiming you as his - how your place was at Casterly Rock and not behind your mother’s skirts. He even made attempts to approach you, but the deathly glare Daemon had set upon your husband made Jason’s cowardice known. The Blacks and Greens had separated them on each end, and by the passing day it had become rather evident that if you returned with Jason, your support of your mother would be squandered under their golden foot.

Otto Hightower then called the Blacks forwards as he sat upon the Targaryen throne as if it were his own. Rhaenyra stepped forward to petition on your behalf but was dismissed by her old bitter companion Alicent Hightower - the Queen.

“Your daughter is far above her age to petition for herself, Princess Rhaenyra, unless she is daft…?” Alicent retorted.

Your eyes darted between your mother and father as they looked to your covering frame, they wanted to protest but what other choice had they given you. With cautious mannerisms you stepped forward, cultivating your sentences of beggary in your head to not stumble upon them. Your fingers fiddled with one another as you stood at the front of the throne room; with the entire court gathered to see your humiliation. Much of everything had sounded muffled to you, they would send you back, he would take you back. You should have flung yourself the first chance you had.

The night before, Rhaenyra had visited her father’s chambers. Maternal tears coating her face as she begged her father for you life. Daemon had told her of your threat to end your existence. What she thought were pleadings fallen to deaf ears, she had hoped to use her inheritance to save you from this curse or have Daemon flee with you to Essos. To remain there until Rhaenyra would take the throne.

Perhaps a call from the heavens answered your pleas (Rhaenyra’s efforts in truth) the grand door to the Throne Room opened, your grand-sire limping his way through a startled court. An old dragon lashing out to protect his blood once more, you moved away. Mouth agape just as the rest, Viserys had come to sit on his throne after four years of sabbatical.

To shield your honour, as your father - Daemon approached his brother to present your case in private. Telling him of the cruelties you had suffered and Jason’s inability to provide you heirs. To which Viserys coughed out his disdain on the Lannister’s lack of providing his granddaughter with heirs.

“Her heir? Tis my family that would be shamed because she is barren. Yet I choose to take my sweet wife back to my noble seat.” Jason scoffed, looking at Rhaenyra like she was delusional.

Rhaenyra passed a knowing look to Daemon before letting go of your hand. She looked right at the vast lords gathered at the court “My first born, my daughter is to be my heir. Your future Queen and a second wife to my prince consort.”

Horrid gasps echoed through the Throne Room, Alicent looked disgusted along with her father. You looked at your mother in shock, unable to grapple the titles she had just placed in your lap.

“Your grace! This is an abomination!” Otto Hightower protested, hoping for the King to see reason.

“She cannot be Queen…” Jason muttered, just as shocked as you.

“And w- why is that?” Viserys coughed.

“Well she is…” his blond brows furrowed tightly, his glare fixated upon you for embarrassing him. Your father raised a challenging brow to him, say it…say it Daemon prayed as he once again clutched the pommel of Dark Sister, he looked to his wife and begged like a toddler to let him end this. Rhaenyra looked at Daemon through his periphery and agreed, subtly nodding at him.

“She is a bastard,” he shrugged, looking appalled, finding this entire situation ridiculous.

Viserys groaned, huffing as he unsheathed his dagger; angered and ready to place his judgement. “I will have your tongue for that!”

Thwack!

You hadn’t realised when your kepa had moved from behind you to trail behind your husband - headless husband - your mother yanked back to look away from the decapitated corpse as knights all around charged at Daemon. He merely wiped his sword away at his cape, before returning to stand next to you.

“You’re a widow now,” he smugly whispered in your ear.

[lanaisdoe]

and in fact (in books) it was 10 years of happy DAEMYRA marriage and their Dragonstone life :")

...and to think they'd wanted, loved and chosen each other over and over since their early years, and stayed together till the very end, leaving the world on the SAME DAY just several months apart... That's... just... heartbreakingly beautiful and sad... Soul bound in life and death.

6 years of happy marriage

No one can take that from them 😓 I am just sad that we haven't seen it...

[hllywdwhre]

Dreamer, Queen, Prince - Chapter 8

Pairing: Daemyra x fem!OC

Warnings: Please check masterlist for warnings. This work is 18+, MDNI

Masterlist

The next morning, Viserea was elated to wake up with her head on Rhaenyra’s chest and Daemon’s arms wrapped firmly around Rhaenyra’s middle. The bliss was cut short as a knock on the door awoke them all.

“Princess, your presence is being requested by the Queen,” they heard.

All of them crawled from Rhaenyra’s bed, as they tried to dress quickly. Before they could finish dressing, the door was shoved open. All three of them still stood topless and Rhaenyra placed herself in front of Viserea and Daemon in front of them both.

Ser Criston, Ser Ryden, and two other members of the Kingsguard stood in the door,

“We’ve been ordered to bring Prince Daemon and Princess Rhaenyra to the throne room immediately,” Ser Criston said, not bothering to hide his disgust from his face.

“And you could not allow your two Princesses to cover themselves before barging in?” Daemon fired back, his body still blocking theirs from view.

None of them bothered to reply or shut the door as they stepped back outside of the room. The three of them pulled their shirts on, all still in the peasants clothes from the night before.

“If this doesn’t go well, make it worth your while,” Viserea whispered in Valyrian to Rhaenyra quickly, referring back to their conversation from the previous day, then kissing her cheek as Rhaenyra nodded.

Once they were dressed, Viserea and Daemon were guided out of the room. Ser Ryden wore an apologetic look as he gently held onto Viserea’s arm. She offered him a small smile and shook her head, silently telling him she did not blame him and knew that he had his orders. Viserea glanced back to see handmaidens entering Rhaenyra’s room, Ser Criston standing beside the door, and Rhaenyra looking after them worriedly.

It was only when the two members of the Kingsguard that each had a hand on Daemon threw him to the ground and Viserea heard a sickening crunch that she finally spoke,

“That is your Prince!” She yelled at them, pulling her arm from Ser Ryden’s gentle grasp and running over to where Daemon was now laying on the floor. She had squatted down next to Daemon to check on him when they both saw Viserys enter from a side door.

“My daughter,” he said, walking up to them as Daemon groaned in pain. His nose was pouring blood and definitely broken and Viserea kept her eyes on Viserys, still squatting beside Daemon, as if ready to throw herself on top of him if she needed to.

“Won’t you two even deny it?” Viserys asked.

Apparently, addressing Viserea along with Daemon was enough to snap Daemon’s attention away from the pain radiating through his nose and the center of his face, as he sat up and made his way to position his body slightly in front of Viserea, squatting as if he wanted to stand up but thought better of it.

“We need to understand the charge before we can attempt to discredit it,” Daemon answered.

“You two defiled her,” Viserys said, landing a kick to Daemon’s side and causing him to fall again as he groaned in pain, “Still you say nothing,”

Viserea glared up at Viserys as he walked around them to stand next to where Daemon’s head was. She sat next to Daemon’s side, one hand placed on the opposite side of him, ready to shield him if Viserys attempted to hurt him again.

“Oh, what does it matter, brother? When we were their age, we fucked our way through most of the brothels on the Street of Silk,” Daemon said dismissively.

Viserea stayed silent as her eyes stayed trained on Viserys.

“We were young men. She is just a girl. Your niece!” Viserys shouted the last sentence and Viserea’s muscles tensed, ready to shield Daemon at the slightest movement from him.

“Rhaenyra’s a woman-grown, the same as Viserea,” Daemon said, “Better their first experiences be with me than some whore.”

Daemon knew Rhaenyra and Viserea had slept with each other years before either of them had reunited with Daemon, but Daemon had chosen his words carefully to ensure that Rhaenyra and Viserea’s relationship was not revealed to Viserys.

“You have ruined her!” Viserys said, going to reach for Daemon’s collar of his shirt, but being met with Viserea’s face even with his as she leaned across Daemon.

The look on her face was one that she had been told multiple times reminded everyone of her father when he was mad. Her usual soft violet eyes were hard and her jaw was set in anger. It was a look that, while Viserea had never seen it on herself or remembered seeing it on her father, was apparently intimidating enough as Viserys made no move to reach for Daemon. Viserea slowly moved away so he could see Damon again after a moment.

“What lord will wed her now? In this condition?” Viserys said, keeping his face level with Viserea’s as he looked back and forth between the two of them.

“Who gives a fuck what some lord thinks?” Daemon spat beneath them, “You are the dragon. Your word is truth and law.”

“I have spent a lifetime defending you,” Viserys said, “But your heart is even blacker than I thought. I should disinherit her and Viserea, as I already did you, and be done with it,” he said, standing up again.

Viserea could have laughed at the irony of his sentence. He didn’t try to find her in the year she spent with Daemon, but referred to her as his daughter when it came to chastising Daemon the previous day. She was only his daughter when it benefited him.

“Wed her to me,” Daemon said before Viserea could voice her thoughts, causing Viserys to drop back down to squatting next to Daemon. “When I offered up my crown, you said I could have anything. I want Rhaenyra, I’ll take her as she is and wed her in the tradition of our house.”

“You are already wed, and make this proposal in front of your very wife,” Viserys said, laughing dryly.

“That didn’t stop Aegon the Conqueror from taking a second wife, and I think you would find my wife okay with this proposal,” Daemon replied.

Viserys drew the blade so quickly that Viserea did not have time to think about what her moves could cause. She moved again to stop Viserys from placing the blade at Daemon’s neck, and instead felt it just barely pierce the skin of her arm as it rested at the front of Daemon’s neck. Daemon’s hands gripped the hand of Viserys’ that held the blade, preventing it from going any deeper into Viserea’s flesh. Viserys either didn’t notice the blood beginning to flow slowly yet steadily from her wound, or he didn’t care as he didn’t move the knife from her arm and her arm didn’t move from in front of Daemon’s neck.

“You are no conqueror. You are a plague… sent to destroy me!” Viserys near shouted at him.

“Give me Rhaenyra to take to wife, and we will return the House of the Dragon to its proper glory,” Daemon said, causing Viserys to pause for a moment before replying.

“Of course. It’s not my daughters you lust for, is it? It’s my throne. You marry them both and the throne is eventually yours,” Viserys replied, as if he had finally figured it all out.

“As if I am your daughter,” Viserea said, cutting off any reply Daemon may have had and causing Viserys to look at her in shock.

“You are my daughter as much as Rhaenyra-“ Viserys tried to argue, but Viserea cut him off.

“We had a very similar argument just a year ago, but I feel it bears repeating. You do not view me as your daughter until it is convenient for you, and you haven’t since I was a child. Your actions show it every day. You don’t arrange proposals for me, and then reject the ones I bring forward because they’re not valuable enough, despite saying it was my choice. You don’t allow Rhaenyra to wed Daemon, because you don’t view Daemon as good enough and think it is only the throne he is after, yet you give us your blessing after we are wed because he is good enough for your spare daughter. If we are married, we are no longer a…” Viserea pretended to need to think of the words he had called Daemon a year ago, “thorn in your side,” she spat.

The same look of anger that she was told resembled her father’s now adorned her face again as she continued on her rant, “Queen Aemma was the only parent I had after my father died when I was three years of age. She was the one who made sure I was treated equally. It became even more obvious after you slaughtered her instead of allowing her the choice of how to die, something I have kept from Rhaenyra for years so that your relationship might not be more strained and she might not be faced with the same nightmares that plagued me for years.

“My opinions were more valued the day I rode Tessarion to the Stepstones than any time I ever tried speaking up in council meetings, even though I am the future Hand of the Queen. The leaders of the Free Cities we visited valued and respected me and my opinions more in the year we spent there than you ever have, and on multiple occasions, heeded my advice and it turned out to be helpful to them. I only hope that you learn to value Rhaenyra’s opinions and Rhaenyra herself, instead of the way you view her now, as she is capable of being the best ruler the Seven Kingdoms has ever seen if only you are smart enough to aid her.”

Silence filled the room once Viserea finished her rant and it took multiple long minutes for Viserys to respond to her.

“Go to Dragonstone, and do not return to King’s Landing. The only reason you two will be permitted to stay on Dragonstone is because of Viserea’s…. Aid in mine and Rhaenyra’s relationship,” Viserys finally replied, removing the blade from where it was still pressing against Viserea’s arm, “As long as the two of you are gone from my sight for good.”

Viserys walked out of the room and Daemon sat up, grabbing Viserea’s arm to view the cut on her arm. The blood from her wound coated her arm, his shirt, and his collarbone from where she had placed it in front of his neck. The blood from his broken nose had stilled, but there were streaks of it across his cheeks.

“Your blade, now!” Daemon looked to Ser Ryden, no room for argument in his voice. No matter if Viserys had just banished them from King’s Landing, Ser Ryden had been around Viserea’s entire life and viewed her as his own family. He quickly came to Viserea’s side, handing Daemon a smaller knife.

Daemon took the knife and carefully cut away a part of the sleeve of the smallfolk clothes Viserea wore. He wrapped it around her forearm, trying to stop the bleeding. Viserea took the knife from Daemon and repeated his actions with his own sleeve, trying to wipe away some of the blood on his cheeks before it dried to them.

He allowed this for only a moment before standing up and helping Viserea to her feet, not risking saying anything in front of the Kingsguard. Ser Ryden was one thing, but the other two members were new and only showed loyalty to Viserys.

“I will show you back to the Princess’ chambers to gather your belongings. I am to assume you will take Caraxes and Tessarion to Dragonstone?” Ser Ryden asked, looking between Daemon and Viserea.

They both nodded and Viserea handed Ser Ryden back his knife, which he put away quickly.

Ser Ryden held a hand up to stop the other two members of the Kingsguard from following them and escorted the two of them back to Viserea’s chambers. Neither were surprised when they entered and didn’t see Rhaenyra, but Viserea let out a small and disappointed sigh.

“We will only be on Dragonstone, zaldrītsos (little dragon). We will see her often. She is Princess of Dragonstone and Viserys can not stop her from visiting,” Daemon pointed out, walking over to Viserea and hugging her closely.

“He will make it as hard as he can. He will load her down in responsibilities he has never before given her and say it is because he wishes to prepare her for the day she will ascend the Iron Throne,” Viserea said, her voice cracking as she spoke and wrapping her arms around him. “Every time I have left Rhaenyra, it has been our decision. Not once have I had to leave without even being able to say goodbye.”

“She knows we would say goodbye if we had the chance, zaldrītsos. I imagine that by the end of the next moon cycle, we will have seen her again. Dragonstone is her home as much as it ours… more so even,” Daemon said in a comforting voice, kissing the top of her head.

Viserea nodded against his chest, knowing he was right, but unable to stop the emotions that washed over her. She had known their plan was far-fetched, but she still had hope that Viserys would’ve allowed it; that he would have seen the sense in it. All three of them would have been married to someone they loved and without argument, Viserea and Daemon would have been able to support Rhaenyra as continued learning how to be a Queen, and those who disagreed with Rhaenyra’s title as Heir to the Iron Throne would not have had a leg to stand on as the three defended her claim.

The thoughts of what could have been drove Viserea to tears for the first three nights she was, once again, away from Rhaenyra. She hadn’t been able to say goodbye, hadn’t been able to remind both Rhaenyra and herself that this was what they had originally planned — for her to wed Laenor and all of them be able to take up their own interests. Part of that was because her and Daemon being banished to Dragonstone hadn’t been part of the plan. They were supposed to be back in King’s Landing, not forced apart by thousands of miles.

Where Viserea was dealing with her pain with sadness and melancholy, Daemon let his fester into anger. He had returned to their chambers every night so far covered in dirt and sweat from sparring with the Knights and Gold Cloaks they had brought to the island with them. He would carry her into the giant stone tub where they would both clean themselves, then keep his arms firmly wrapped around her torso as they slept. She wouldn’t ask him or comment on it, but she could tell that the grip around her was as much to comfort her as it was to assure himself that she would not be stolen away from him, either.

It had been five days since they were banished from King’s Landing and both Daemon and Amarda were relieved when they were finally able to drag Viserea from her’s and Daemon’s chambers. That morning, she had been bathed and dressed, looking like a princess for the first time since they had landed their dragons on the island.

Both of them were in the castle’s vast library when the first letter from Rhaenyra had arrived at Dragonstone. Daemon had taken it from Ser Ryden — Viserea had demanded he was to come to Dragonstone, as he was her assigned member of the Kingsgaurd — before Viserea could, and read it first.

She watched as the look on his face turned from intent, to a proud smile, and then back to fury before he could even begin on the second page. His breathing had grown heavy and he had to place the pages on the table in front of him to keep from crumpling them. He was taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself and Viserea stood up and walked over to him.

“Is it bad?” Viserea asked, placing a hand on his shoulder and watching his face. She couldn’t bring herself to glance at the letter, afraid of what she would see.

“She’s okay,” Daemon replied in a steely tone. He had said it to reassure Viserea without revealing exactly what the letter said. He passed Viserea the first page of Rhaenyra’s letter, which was written in Valyrian to prevent unwanted eyes from reading it. She took it from him gently, staying beside him as he picked up the second page to continue reading.

I heard about what happened in the Throne Room. It shattered me to not be able to bid you both a farewell, but I know it was no fault of your own. That night, my father called for me in his chambers, just the two of us. He told me I was his political headache and that my wedding to Ser Laenor Velaryon would combine the two most powerful houses in the realm, ensuring that no one would dare to stand against us.

He was just as blind to Otto’s selfish wills as we suspected he was. He seemed surprised when I told him that he wanted Aegon named heir. I told him that Otto’s spying on us and his self-interests will bring a divided realm. He told me that everyone on his small council and all past are self-interested. I told him I disagreed. I asked him if he could ever picture Viserea sending spies after my children and never reporting on the many times a child of mine visited the city, but reported of the one time they were caught in a position that could be used to disinherit them.

I told him I would do my duty as heir. I told him I would wed Ser Laenor and produce an heir, but that he must first do his duty as king. He did not argue with me as I suspected he would. He seemed to have realized that I was right, that Otto had been serving himself and not his king for a long time now.

I was not there when Otto was removed from his position, so I am unsure of what was said. The next morning, Lyonel Strong was named Hand.

I was in my chambers reading, long after the sun had set, when Grand Maester Mellos visited me. My father had him brew and bring me Moon Tea in order to rid me of any “unwanted consequences”. I hope you both can forgive me for drinking it instead of throwing it into the fire.

Viserea lowered the page and looked to Daemon, unsure who his anger was towards. Was it for Viserys ordering the tea? Or was it for Rhaenyra drinking it?

“I understand why she drank it, but he had no right to order it be brewed for her,” Daemon said. He had placed the second page of the letter back on the table in front of them and was gripping the back of the chair in anger.

Viserea did not reply, feeling slightly relieved he did not blame Rhaenyra for drinking it and understood why she did. She reached for the second page of the letter, her hand never leaving its spot on his arm.

I fear I have made a permanent enemy of the Queen. She called to question me on if the rumor of our coupling was true. She said we Targaryens have always had queer practices, but that she thought better of Viserea and me. She could not understand how we would be okay with coupling with not only our uncle, but our lady cousin when we were raised as sisters. She did not take kindly to me reminding her of how it was these queer practices that made it possible for the Seven Kingdoms to be united as one.

By the time this letter reaches you, we will be back in King’s Landing. We are currently on Driftmark where my betrothal to Ser Laenor has just been arranged.

Upon my father’s death, I will be crowned Queen. Ser Laenor will be King Consort. Our firstborn child, regardless of gender, will inherit the Iron Throne from me. Our children will carry the last name Velaryon, but when our firstborn ascends the Iron Throne, they will do so in the name Targaryen.

While this was discussed, Ser Laenor and I took a courtship walk along the beach. We have agreed to carry out our duties that are required of us as future Queen and King Consort of the realm, but once our duties are performed, we may both partake in our own activities and interests.

We are to be wed in a week. I do not care what my father said about the two of you remaining on Dragonstone, I want you both to attend my wedding.

A burst of hope bloomed in Viserea’s chest as she finished reading the second page of Rhaenyra’s letter. Though it was not what they all truly wanted, their other plan was working so far. Laenor and Rhaenyra would work together to keep each other's secrets. Daemon and Viserea would at least be able to see Rhaenyra at her wedding, and there would be no way Viserys could keep Rhaenyra from Dragonstone for the rest of his life. Alicent could be dealt with later.

“It seems as though we have no choice but to attend the wedding,” Daemon said, turning the third page he held in his hand to face Viserea.

This page was written in the common tongue so there would be no doubt of what it said.

Prince Daemon Targaryen and his wife Princess Viserea Targaryen are to attend the wedding celebrations of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and Ser Laenor Velaryon. This order is given by Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of Her Name, Princess of Dragonstone, Heir to the Iron Throne and future Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.

Below the command was the date which the celebrations would begin and when they needed to arrive.

Viserea smiled at seeing the command. Only Viserys himself would be able to force them to leave the wedding, and she was unsure if Viserys would be willing to risk turning them away against Rhaenyra’s wishes during her wedding celebrations.

That day Daemon did not seek out his Gold Cloaks or any knights to spar with and Viserea did not find herself weeping in his arms until she fell asleep.

The next day passed in a blur as the two readied themselves to fly to King’s Landing. The next day they departed on dragonback to King’s Landing. While uncomfortable to fly in clothes fit for the wedding celebrations, they knew arriving the day of the start of the celebrations would allow for the least chance of Viserys sending them back to Dragonstone.

Viserea’s dress was black with details of grey and red woven into it. The long, billowing sleeves were the same silver as the seahorse on the Verlaryon sigil. The dress represented the three houses she was loyal to; House Targaryen, Stark, and Velaryon.

Once their dragons had landed, they were escorted to the castle. Amarda had apparently sent word to a member of her family in the city of their impending arrival, as they were joined by a woman who resembled her in their carriage on the ride up to the keep.

She introduced herself as Amarda’s niece and worked at fixing any of the damage the winds of flying had brought to Viserea’s hair. Before she and Daemon stepped out of the carriage, Amarda’s niece spoke to them quickly and quietly,

“While I follow the Faith of the Seven and we do not allow such marriages, I trust my aunt’s judgment and I have heard the kind words she has spoken about your treatment of her. The three of you will always have the support of our house as Princess Rhaenyra ascends the Iron Throne.”

Viserea kept her head high as she and Damon entered the castle, ignoring some of the stares the guards gave them as they clearly internally debated on whether to stop them or not. No one stopped them as they entered the throne room or approached the dais, but they received no announcement.

Though clearly not pleased at their arrival, Viserys motioned for two chairs to be brought forth for them as they bowed to him. Viserea met Rhaenyra’s eyes and could see the mixture of relief and happiness behind them. They took their seats at the end of the table, smiling politely to Viserys as they did so, wanting to give him no reason to send them away.

“She’s not here,” Viserea just barely whispered to Daemon. He gave a slight nod, confirming that he had also noticed Alicent’s absence from the table.

“Be welcome, as we join together in celebration. Tonight is only its beginning. We honor the crown’s oldest and fiercest ally, House Velaryon,” Viserys said to the crowd of people, paying no more attention to Viserea or Daemon. “Reaching back to the days of Old Valyria and the Age of Dragons. With House Targaryen and Hou-“ Viserys stopped mid sentence as he looked to the end of the room.

Viserea followed his gaze and took Daemon’s hand in hers as she realized exactly why Viserys had stopped speaking. There Alicent stood in a dress of blazing green. She clenched his hand tightly as she realized what Alicent was silently saying.

Alicent walked the length of the throne room as the guests rose in respect. Viserea and Daemon both stayed seated. She had silently declared war against Rhaenyra right as Rhaenyra’s wedding celebrations began. Viserea would not show her the respect of standing and Daemon apparently agreed with her.

The show had clearly unsettled Viserys as much as it had Viserea as Viserys asked Ser Lyonel where he was in his speech before continuing.

“With House Targaryen and House Velaryon united, I hope to herald in a second Age of Dragons in Westeros.” Applause and cheering broke out across the room at Viserys’ words and he continued on, “And after tonight’s small affair, seven days of tournament and feasting. At the end of it all, a royal wedding between my daughter, my heir, your future Queen, and Ser Laenor Velaryon, the Heir to Driftmark.”

Applause broke out once again and Viserys took his seat. A moment later and music began.

Rhaenyra and Laenor stood, walking to the open floor in the center of the room and beginning to dance a traditional Valyrian wedding dance with arms spread to mimic the wings of a dragon. Once finished, they bowed to each other and applause broke out again. This time, Daemon and Viserea joined in.

A crowd quickly filled the floor and the music began again, another waltz beginning amongst the guests. Viserea’s eyes scanned the room, noticing Alicent speaking to her uncle, Lord Hobert Hightower, and noticing when Ser Gerold Royce of Runestone approached them.

“In the Vale, men are made to answer for their crimes. Even Targaryens,” Gerold said, the underlying threat obvious in his tone.

“And who are you?” Daemon asked. He smirked down at the man, clearly finding his threat amusing.

“Ser Gerold Royce of Runestone.”

“And?” Daemon questioned, still sounding amused.

“I am cousin to your late lady wife,” Gerold said with a tone of growing anger.

“Ahh, yes. Terrible thing. I’m positively bereft. Had I heard of her sickness sooner, I would have sent the royal Maesters to attend to her immediately,” Daemon replied in a false tone of sympathy.

“You know better than anyone, your Maesters could not have helped.”

Viserea quirked an eyebrow at his words, mildly taken aback by Gerold’s boldness. Daemon had told Viserea that Rhea’s passing and when she had asked, told her that she had fallen ill. She had been able to tell by his tone and look on his face that it was no illness that she would be able to return from and Viserea had not questioned him further on the matter. He had been by her side the entire time, so no one would be able to make a solid accusation against him.

“Are you confessing some guilt, Ser Gerold?” Daemon asked him.

“I am making an accusation,” he replied angrily.

“You know, in King’s Landing, men are made to answer for their slanders. Even old bronze cunts like you,” Daemon said, quoting Gerold’s earlier words and causing him to scoff.

Viserea did not take kindly to the threat against her husband, even if the accusation was true. She spoke this time, her voice light but still holding an air of mild threat,

“It is a good thing you’ve joined us, Ser Gerold. We have not had the chance to visit the Vale to speak about my husband’s inheritance.”

“What inheritance?” Gerold asked quickly.

“Lady Rhea and Prince Daemon had no heirs. As her husband upon the time of her passing, whatever she was due now passes to the Prince,” Viserea reminded him, smirking as a shocked look fell on his face, “Now I may be wrong as I am not her family nor was I her husband, but she stood to inherit all of Runestone, did she not?”

Daemon gave Viserea’s hand that he still held a slight squeeze as they watched him stutter for a moment.

“After my niece’s wedding, my wife and I plan to fly to the Eyrie, and I plan to position Lady Jeyne myself. Perhaps I’ll see you there, Ser Gerold,” Daemon threatened.

Ser Gerold stepped away from the table, throwing a backwards glare at the two of them, to which Viserea returned.

“I believe there are some people who wish to speak to you,” Daemon said, pulling Viserea’s attention away from Ser Gerold. He gave a nod to Corlys and Rhaenys and Viserea stood.

“Perhaps you should ask Lady Laena for a dance,” Viserea said to him.

“Of course, Princess,” Daemon said, quickly catching on to Viserea’s meaning.

They both walked over to three remaining Velaryons and Viserea took Laena’s seat when Rhaenys offered it to her after Laena had accepted Daemon’s offer for a dance.

“I was under the impression you were banished,” Corlys said in a teasing tone, smiling at Viserea.

“We received an order from the Princess that we were to attend the wedding and the celebrations,” Viserea replied in the same tone, chuckling.

“I am glad to see you’re excited for the wedding then,” Rhaenys said, pointing the silver sleeves of Viserea’s dress.

“Of course I am. I could not think of a more needed union. One that benefits both our houses and its heirs,” Viserea said. She chose her wording carefully around the two of them, unsure of what they had heard of Rhaenyra, Daemon, and her’s little stunt.

“Are you sure of that, Princess?” Rhaenys questioned, confirming Viserea’s suspicions that she knew every detail of them.

Viserea didn’t immediately respond, instead looking between Corlys and Rhaenys as she judged how best to reply. The look on their faces was just as calculating as her own, and she decided to repeat her answer, only changing the phrasing slightly so that they might understand the meaning behind her words this time.

“I am quite sure, Princess,” Viserea replied, “As I said, this union benefits both of our houses, and its heirs. I feel as though a marriage of this dynamic can only benefit everyone involved.”

It became obvious to Viserea by the look on Corlys’ and Rhaenys’ faces that the true meaning of her words had been made sense of.

“Then we are both glad to have your support of the union, Princess, as you have shown by wearing the color of all the houses you feel loyal to,” Corlys said, a more relaxed smile crossing his face now.

“House Targaryen will always have my loyalty above all, but it is true that House Velaryon and House Stark are my family, as well. They are the houses I am united with through family and friendships alike,” Viserea replied. She watched as more of the anxiety in their faces seemed to fade, though neither of them were given the chance to reply.

“Might I be able to steal my wife away for a dance?” Daemon asked as he approached Viserea, looking to Corlys and Rhaenys with a familiar and friendly smile.

They both motioned to Viserea and Damon turned his attention to her.

“May I have this dance, Princess?” He asked, holding his hand out to her.

“You may, my Prince,” Viserea replied with a smile. She stood up, taking his hand in hers and following him to the dance floor. She spotted Laena and Harwin dancing and the blush that crossed Harwin’s face at something Laena said.

Once they were surrounded by others, Daemon spoke again,

“You look worried, little dragon,” he said, helping Viserea flawlessly fall in step with him.

“She has openly declared war on her,” Viserea said, avoiding names since she knew Daemon would know who she spoke of.

“She has. What do you want to do about it?” He asked her.

The two of them were separated a moment later by the dance, leaving Viserea to ponder his question.

She could think of plenty of things she wanted to do, but she would be no help to Rhaenyra or Daemon if she was dead, and that would only give Alicent’s children a chance of claiming Tessarion. She couldn’t let either of those happen.

Viserea and Daemon made their way back to each other as the dance continued.

“Any ideas?” He asked her, looking down to make eye contact with her.

“Plenty. None with any logic,” Viserea replied.

“And what about Corlys and Rhaenys?”

“Nothing about her move, but it seems they understand just how much this marriage is a union beneficial for both houses.”

Daemon chuckled, but offered no other response. He took her hand and walked to where Rhaenyra and Harwin were now dancing.

“Might I offer you a trade for the moment, Ser Harwin?” Daemon asked, a polite smile on his face as he offered Viserea’s hand to Harwin.

“Of course,” Harwin replied, allowing Rhaenyra’s hand to be taken by Daemon and taking Viserea’s in response.

Viserea stepped in time with Harwin, watching as Daemon guided Rhaenyra to the back of the room.

“I want to apologize for my abrupt departure last year,” Viserea told Harwin, keeping in time with him and the music.

“No need to, Princess. Princess Rhaenyra and I have become quite trusting in one another and she has informed me of the reason for your departure. It sounds as though it was the best thing for you,” Harwin replied with a kind smile on his face.

Viserea returned his smile, grateful for his kind nature and understanding of her circumstances.

“Thank you for your understanding then, Ser Harwin,” Viserea said, her eyes flickering to where Daemon and Rhaenyra stood talking, his hand on the side of her face, causing a rush of worry to go through her.

“Pay them no mind. Both are too smart to make a scene here,” Harwin said, following her line of sight.

Viserea nodded, knowing he was right. She glanced around the rest of the room, spotting Ser Joffrey and Ser Criston speaking; a cheerful look of Joffery’s face and a sour expression on Criston’s.

Harwin followed her stare again, “Now that, I am unsure of. Unless Ser Joffery has misjudged where the Princess’ interests lie. Ser Criston has been cold to her since that morning and it is to my understanding that she was even thinking of replacing him, saying that she didn’t trust him to guard her anymore. They’ve been casting glances at each other all night.”

Viserea nodded, silently taking in the information as Harwin lifted her into the air in time with the music.

A moment later a scream erupted from the crowd, causing both Viserea and Harwin to look around in confusion. She began pushing through the crowd, trying to find Rhaenyra or Daemon and losing Harwin in moments. After a particularly harsh shove, she hit the ground, but stood up quickly and started trying to push her way through. She felt herself lifted in the air and realized it was Daemon who carried her and she relaxed slightly, relaxing a bit more when she saw Harwin carrying Rhaenyra towards the dais.

They were both set down at the same time and the crowd had quieted considerably. Viserea moved to Rhaenyra, Daemon moving right behind her as they stared out at the unmistakable body of Ser Joffery, now bloody and dead on the floor.

Viserea couldn’t pull her eyes away from and it was Daemon stepping in front of her and Rhaenyra that caused her to finally look away. She caught sight of Laenor crawling to Joffery’s body as Criston made his way out of the doors.

“Don’t look,” Daemon said, his hand on each of their shoulders and pulling Viserea to him.

Viserea looked at Rhaenyra, the same horror struck look mirrored on both of their faces.

The crowd was cleared out quickly, along with Ser Joffery’s body, but the sound of Laenor’s wails would haunt Viserea forever.

Viserea went to Rhaenyra, taking her hand in her’s as they both stood shaking next to each other.

“Do you know-?” Viserea started, but stopped as Rhaenyra slowly shook her head.

“I saw them talking-“ Rhaenyra started, but Viserea cut her off, her voice dropping to a lower volume as the room finally emptied from everyone aside from their family and the Velaryons.

“Harwin said he thinks Joffery might have thought he was your interest. He might have accused him and caused him to go into a rage,” Viserea whispered and Rhaenyra nodded.

The doors of the throne room closed and the High Septon stepped forward as Viserys announced to the ones still gathered in the room that he wanted Rhaenyra and Laenor married now and that the rest of the celebrations were canceled due to that night’s events.

“Please, come to me,” Rhaenyra whispered before she walked away, her face now streaked with tears.

Viserea had to force herself not to cry as the High Septon spoke the marriage vows, she saw Laenor’s tears, and heard the way Rhaenyra and Laenor were both crying. Daemon’s arm around her waist helped keep her grounded as the High Septon declared them to now be man and wife.

She did not move when Viserys collapsed to the ground, though neither did Laenor. Daemon did and went to his side immediately. Viserea wasn’t sure how she felt towards Viserys, but even if she had tried to move closer to him, there was no room as everyone else surrounded him.

The maester was there moments later, anyways, and declaring that he needed space and to leave him be.

Daemon returned to Viserea’s side and tried to guide her out of the throne room, but she stopped him. She looked to Rhaenyra and he nodded.

“Might we walk with you back to your chambers? I understand tonight has been… distressing, and I do wish to know you both make it there safely. Daemon can escort us,” Viserea said, her voice oddly calm as she spoke.

Laenor went to reject her offer, but upon seeing the look on Rhaenyra and Viserea’s faces, accepted the offer.

They exited the throne room, seeing the maester helping Viserys stand up. Daemon’s hand rested on Dark Sister as they walked through the corridors of the castle. None of them had a member of the Kingsguard with them, so he truly was making sure they made it to their chambers safely, though no one truly saw a threat making itself known.

They remained silent until they reached Rhaenyra’s chambers and Demon allowed them all inside, then stepped inside behind them. As soon as the door closed behind them, Laenor sat on the edge of Rhaenyra’s bed, now allowing his tears to begin flowing freely once again.

Rhaenyra and Viserea both moved to him and sat on either side of him, Viserea placing a comforting hand on his back as Rhaenyra pulled him into a hug and allowed him to cry onto her shoulder.

No one said anything for a long while, not until Laenor finally looked up and between the three of them.

“Why?” He asked, his voice hoarse.

Rhaenyra, Viserea, and Daemon all exchanged looks and Daemon decided to speak first,

“We think he confronted Criston about being the object of Rhaenyra’s desire and he didn’t take kindly to being accused of breaking his vows he took when he took his place on the Kingsguard.”

“And was he not?” Laenor asked. His voice was harsh but no one reacted to it, understanding he was in pain.

“No… he was neither of the objects of my desire,” Rhaenyra said.

Laenor looked to her, eyebrows furrowed, then Rhaenyra gave a meaningful look at both Viserea and Daemon. Laenor nodded,

“I understand…” his voice trailed off and he looked at his lap. They sat in silence for a moment before Laenor stood up, beginning to pace around the room.

His questions came in rapid succession after that and the three answered as best they could.

Why did Joffery believe Criston was Rhaenyra’s lover?

How long had the relationship between Daemon, Viserea, and Rhaenyra existed?

Why did Criston suddenly hate Rhaenyra?

Once they had answered all of his questions, he sat back down and nodded.

“From now on, we are honest. The four of us are honest about everything that happens between us. No secrets or unvoiced suspicions. I could have prevented Joff-“ Laenor’s voice broke and he took a moment before resuming his sentence, “I could have prevented this if I had known.”

“Do not blame yourself,” Viserea said firmly, looking at Laenor, “Ser Joffery’s accusation should not have cost him his life.”

Laenor nodded, accepting Viserea’s statement.

“We do all promise to be honest with each other, though. About everything,” Rhaenyra said, looking to Viserea who nodded in agreement and then to Daemon.

While he didn’t seem thrilled about it, Daemon nodded and agreed to be honest, also.

Eventually, Daemon and Viserea left Laenor and Rhaenyra to be alone. Even if nothing happened between the two of them, they still had appearances to keep up and it would seem suspicious if the couple did not spend their first night married in the same bed.

“She will have to bear his children, you know,” Viserea said to Daemon as they stepped back into Viserea’s chambers.

“Yes, she will,” Daemon replied, looking to Viserea curiously, wondering where she was going.

“And you feel nothing about her bearing another man’s child?” Viserea asked, unable to deny that she herself felt jealous at the thought of someone besides herself or Daemon touching Rhaenyra.

Daemon chuckled as he realized what Viserea was finally getting at and walked over to her.

“Of course I wish it were my babe that she were bearing, but I feel as though our circumstances are the best they can be.” His hands were on her back, gently beginning to pull the strings holding the corset of her dress in place and causing a rush of excitement to flow through Viserea.

“I suppose you’re right,” she replied, dropping her head to the side when Daemon’s lips connected with her neck. “Do you think Viserys will send us back to Dragonstone now that they are married or that he will allow us to remain in King’s Landing?”

“I think…” he started as his kisses lead up to her mouth, capturing it in a short but passionate kiss, “that my attention tonight is focused solely on my lovely wife and fucking her until my name is the only thing she’s capable of speaking.”

Viserea’s cheeks turned a bright pink and a playful smile crossed over her face.

“Then who am I to deny my Prince’s orders?” Viserea teased, beginning to aid him in removing the rest of her clothes and then his own.

[jacaeryssworld]

hello hello! may i request an aemond targaryen x daemyra daughter! reader? something very fluffy please! maybe perhaps where they’re betrothed at a young age and people think it’d end up in a disaster, only for the years to go by and everyone could see how happy and in love they are? like i fully believe they’d be the reason why the dance doesn’t happen, their union allowing their mothers to reconcile and find common ground? id like to think reader is a reason for aemond to not let the budding ‘greens’ tendencies to win over him when otto tries to manipulate them into thinking that this was just a scheme in rhaenyra’s ascent for the throne and actually tells reader so otto can get dragged the hell out kingslanding xd tysm in advance!

omg so cute!! i honestly LOVE team black!aemond. it just feels right for some reason (probably going to make him more team black leaning just for reader 🤭).

a fic where the dance doesn’t happen & everyone’s happy & alive?? sold.

i’ll link the fic to this post once i get around to finishing it <3

thank you for requesting lovie 🤍

[yzzart]

hi love,

idk if ur taking requests (if ur not, pls ignore this then) but i absolutely love ur fics. could i maybe request more daemyra’s daughter and aemond, with overprotective daemon in the mix? nothing too specific, just daemon trying to keep his daughter away from her lovesick uncle, because he knows firsthand how that is.

im sorry for the delay, my love! school and work are killing me :((

— Father's Instinct

© do not repost or translate !

characters: Aemond Targaryen x (F)Targaryen!reader.

summary: Daemon just wanted his eldest daughter to stay away from a certain dragon but he was once that certain dragon with your mother.

warnings: incest, explicit language, explicit words, mention of violence but no deaths or injuries, and references to Daemon and Rhaenyra.

word count: 2.224!

english's not my first language, so sorry for any mistakes!

If Daemon had the right opportunity, he'd gouge out his nephew's only good eye right then and there.

It didn't matter if the sun was shining, with the birds singing, a prime and sacred time for some families. — By the scene he was watching carefully, Daemon would start to hate that whole morning.

He wouldn't be ashamed or trying to redeem himself for having a desire as bloody and deadly as that. — The last thing Daemon was going to do with his last breath was apologize for wanting to commit that act. — But he had a serious reason for it.

And it wasn't for any reason.

Daemon's lovable nephew, who was on the other side of the table, didn't hide his eyes on his daughter. — His first child. — The one-eyed prince's only good purple eye was gazing at the young Targaryen woman in the rebel prince's presence.

It wasn't difficult to identify that Aemond and you were exchanging looks, it looked like the two of you were playing with each other. — A simple little game that you unabashedly loved and was more exciting in the presence of everyone at the table.

It looked like the gods were playing with Daemon, a prank of sorts that was being frowned upon by the prince. — He knew he couldn't anger the gods but at that moment no one could quench a dragon's fury.

It was so ironic to see an uncle openly flirting with his niece without fear of her father's reaction or scolding, and years ago Daemon was in the same situation but being the uncle.

It was intriguing and interesting the fact that Aemond was focusing only on you at that well-manicured wooden table, as if there were only you at that moment. — But in the mind of the one-eyed that, in fact, was true.

The king's brother despised his nephew's action. Daemon didn't even know what feeling was taking over his body at the sight of his daughter being devoured by the one-eyed young man's only existing eye; it could be anger, hate, contempt or all at once. — The father's instinct screamed, mentally to Daemon.

Now Daemon knew, exactly, how Viserys felt.

You knew how risky it was to maintain eye contact with Aemond but it was impossible to stop your eyes from gazing at the prince. It felt like you were hypnotized by it, a kind of witchcraft but deep down you knew it wasn't. — You were in love with your uncle, just like your mother at your age was in love with hers; your father.

Even after your departure, you kept your feelings for Aemond. In your pure and naive age, you didn't believe that those feelings would expand and strengthen in a way that you couldn't believe but the good gods deceived your thoughts. All your passion and admiration for Aemond was as strong and steady as a dragon. — A dragon can recognize and strengthen its feelings.

From Aemond's perspective, every day and night since his departure for Dragonstone, he has thought of you. There was nothing that could take you out of the thoughts of the king's youngest son, absolutely nothing. — Of course, his mother noticed the sad features, both because of what happened with his eye and for the possible reason for his absence in the castle and in the little boy's life, at that time.

But that naive boy, unable to hold a wooden sword, had grown along with his love for you, and with the countless prayers to the gods asking you to return soon to his arms. — Aemond can't remember how many times his feet carried him to your old quarters.

"I hope you're off duty during this majestic morning, niece." — The admirable voice, loud enough for you to hear, was exclaimed directly into your ears. At no time did your eyes meet during the older man's speech, the two of you were trapped in each other's love and didn't want to miss any feature marks.

Aemond's greatest desire at that moment was to spend a moment with you, it would be pure greed if the gods said that the prince didn't just want to spend a moment with you, but the entire day. — And he waited for his plans with you to work out, the way he had planned.

Your father's jaw, after hearing the voice of the cursed one-eyed man, immediately locked itself. He recognized the way Aemond had said those words to you, he had interest and satisfaction. — Daemon could clearly state that his nephew was eagerly awaiting your answer.

It was pathetic how Daemon had looked like Viserys years ago.

"I predict that i will have the morning without appointments today, my uncle." — Your answer came softly from your lips. The way those words left your sweet, delicate lips caught Aemond's attention, he wanted so much to taste the glorious taste of your mouth. — "Would i be being impolite to ask the reason for the question?"

"It would be impolite if you did not accept my invitation to take a walk through the region, with our dragons, if you prefer." — Aemond brought the goblet, which held his favorite warm wine, to his lips and in no time did he dare take his eye away from you.

Daemon couldn't believe that damned one-eyed man, by the curse the good gods had sent the rebel prince deciding that young Targaryen would be his nephew, was trying to malign his dear daughter. — He knew very well how to recognize a tone of audacity and daring coming from another man.

You were Daemon's first child, the first of your name. The daughter he never thought in his life that he would adore, love and protect from anything that could hurt or threaten you. — As a great dragon would do with its helpless eggs.

Daemon could admit to the good gods that he never thought he would see himself as a good father, a father figure. He didn't believe that a child could make him happy or satisfied with the life he'd been given but from the looks of it, his lonely, pitiful thought was burned with his own dragon flames.

As his father's duty, Daemon would protect you from all the claws and teeth of all the men who tried to capture your naivety. — Including your uncle.

With a knife and fork in his hands, your father pounced on the rich deer meat, which had been forgotten for a little while, that was on his plate. The silverware hit the bottom of the plate with Daemon's brutality, making an unbearable sound. — Startled, you end up ending the exchange of looks between you and Aemond to focus on where the hellish noise had come from.

Your eyes landed on the image of your father, literally attacking the red flesh and making countless ear-splitting sounds. It didn't look like he just wanted to cut the meat, in fact it looked like he was imagining a person in the various cuts in the meat.

You couldn't say that scene scared you but it left you only surprised, the reason for that act was already very clear in your mind. — Even so, you didn't dare or feel like questioning your father's action. — The only thing you, mentally, begged him to use was that silverware on someone specific at that table.

Rhaenyra directed a hand on Daemon's arm, trying to calm him down and end that little aggressive act against the poor roasted, dead deer part. — Taking a deep breath, your father dropped the silverware on top of the plate and put his hand under his forehead.

Your eyes continued to stare at your father, without him noticing, hoping that there would be no more acts like that or even worse and soon, you chose to close the looks and remembered the lack of response to your uncle's suggestion. — Your beloved uncle.

"It would indeed be pleasant, uncle." — Your eyes returned to the feared and charming prince, who kept a thin smile and a mischievous tone on his lips. — "I just hope you're not out of shape for a nice dragon race." — Several low laughs echo around the table and you can identify which ones they belong to. — In addition to your brothers, Aegon participates in the group of laughter. — An amused and a little shy smile appeared on your sweet red lips.

Dragons couldn't die with fire, so they chose to play with it. It was such a determined and challenging thing to see. — And you loved doing it.

Across the damned seven realms, your teasing Aemond was an intriguing demonstration of how to play with fire and still right in front of everyone, including your father.

It would be risky to respond in kind, equally and return the provocative answer, but it was not exciting and fun without risks for the one-eyed prince, the rider of the largest dragon in the world. — Aemond was audacious. It can be said that his name can have many meanings and definitions, and the word audacity was included.

"Well, you need to see it and witness it to draw your conclusions, my niece." — He stated sharply and defiantly, those words were so penetrating and exciting at the same time. The expression of satisfaction and pure desire to know what that answer could have caused you was visible to all who decided to observe the prince's features.

From what it seemed, the simple game of looks had become a real game of temptation and fascination. — Your cheeks replaced your normal skin tone with a reddish tinge along with a slightly warm temperature. — Years and years may pass but Aemond would always have a power over you.

"By the seven hells." — Daemon grunted angrily, wanting to put the fork, left by his fingers and forgotten, into the single eye of that young Targaryen. In fact, he would have done so a long time ago, from his first mortal thought that morning, if it hadn't been for Viserys' presence.

Despite this, one side, known only to Daemon, recognized the nephew's actions, it seemed that he was seeing himself there and you resembled, perfectly, your mother and even in the bold and brave way of speaking. — The gods were indeed playing with Daemon.

"Our children have grown up, my brother." — Viserys's weak and almost weakened voice was heard and echoed for the first time at the table, during that heavy morning. The king, even in such a delicate situation, had watched your conversation along with his youngest son and of course, he compared you two to his eldest daughter and his brother.

Viserys was the first to notice how similar you and Aemond were to young Rhaenyra and Daemon. — His fragile, delicate heart warmed a little, more than usual, when he finally realized and admitted his thought.

In response, the king's brother just rolled his eyes not satisfied with the elder's words. He wouldn't dare to answer his brother in such a derogatory way and even more so in front of you. — So what was left was just the action with the eyes and a long sigh, wanting to get away from that table.

"i kostagon daor umbagon, ñuha jorrāelagon." (I can't wait, my dear.) — A startling whisper of the valerian language passed through your ears in a sweet, thoughtful way. Your attention returned to your lover, who had moved a little closer to your chair just to send the appreciative words, which aroused an excited feeling in you.

Your eyes, not as naive as his father might think but could be considered angelic, observed the prince's image once more. — Aemond wasn't just watching you but admiring. He didn't want to show how eager and, a little nervous, he was to have time with you after so many years.

He could define all those years as the very hell he managed to witness.

You remained silent but not for lack of words or embarrassment, you just didn't need to say anything, no words. Your look at Aemond said absolutely everything. It was all the young Targaryen needed.

Promptly, Daemon watched you two. — By your pleas, he couldn't hear Aemond's last words, it was risky and kind of indiscreet but he didn't listen. — And to his damned misfortune, Daemon ended up agreeing to the thought he so despised and tried to ignore all morning, from the moment Aemond laid eyes on you.

He knew that at some point the overprotective side of him towards the man you would choose to marry would kick in but it came so quickly for him. Daemon wouldn't take it easy and understanding but he knows that's a part of a father's life. — But the story of his life together with his lovely wife was repeating itself with his daughter and nephew.

He would be a little offending himself by remembering his own nephew, whom he detests, but is glad that you look identically to your mother.

You and Aemond were a glimpse of Daemon and Rhaenyra Targaryen.

[greenqueenhightower]

Wondering if the “only pro Alicent if she denounces everything, cleaves and admits to only ever loving Rhaenyra” Rhaenicents, team black and Daemyras who made Alicole all about Rhaenyra will make Rhaenyra x Mysaria all about Alicent?

Is Mysaria just a vessel for Rhaenyra to act out her Alicent Girlkissing fantasies on? Is Rhaenyra just a stand in for Daemon?

Are people going to flood the Mysaria/ Rhaenyra tags on Ao3 with fics of Rhaenyra making Mysaria wear a red wig and green dress? Is Rhaenyra going to give herself a half up half down hair style and call a training sword "DarkSister"?

Did Rhaenyra call out Alicent's name when climaxing?

Or will we not see these same sentiments at all because people don't devalue Rhaenyra like they do Alicent?

Hi anon 💚

For sure Alicent is hated and villainized in this fandom just as Rhaenyra is freely excused and glorified. It hurts to see the devaluation of Alicent's character. However, I cannot respond for the rest of the fandom, and for me at least, Mysaria x Rhaenyra is about Alicent.

Mysaria's comment about Rhaenyra's worthiness to rule, and her feeling secure around her and proud of her are sentiments that Rhaenyra herself sought to find in Alicent, who had the same pride and admiration of her abilities when they were young girls. Rhaenyra had missed the genuine praise and support that Alicent gave her and saw a glimpse of that in Mysaria.

As they embraced, I felt that Rhaenyra was transported back to her reckless and free childhood years when she was so celebrated by her childhood friend and crush. When she saw Alicent again in the sept, Alicent had affirmed her devotion to the same belief: that Rhaenyra would make a fine Queen, and that Alicent used to be proud of her.

Now that Alicent is out of reach, Mysaria embodies the same figure that Rhaenyra was seeking all along. She is standing next to her and tells her that she is a rightful ruler and that she is meant to be Queen. Rhaenyra hugs her without hesitation as she would her childhood crush.

I don't know if I'm right or wrong or if I'm reading too much into this, but that is my take. And I would write a longer analysis post on it if I was less weary of being shunned because of the reality you expressed above.

[darklinaforever]

For people who are upset about Daemon telling Rhaenyra that Viserys didn't make her heir because of her virtue, under the pretext that it was because of him that her virtue was questioned in the first place because from him... and so in Rhaenyra's place you would have punched Daemon for saying that.

Well... I litteraly don't understand your thinking.

Daemon wasn't talking in a sexual sense of virtue. He spoke in this sense of the definition : behavior showing high moral standards. “paragons of virtue”.

Again, he's literally talking about when she was made heir, not the events of episode 4 !

And what he's saying isn't wrong, Viserys didn't make Rhaenyra heir because she was virtuous, but because he want "protect the kingdom from Daemon".

We literally heard Viserys say it himself, we know it's the truth, we know that's why Rhaenyra was named heir, that on top of the guilt he felt over death by Aemma.

Oh and I hate how this kind of thinking diminishes Rhaenyra's agency, as if she wasn't a 19 year old young woman at that time having consented to sex with Daemon that she had obviously already wanted for a long time.

Even Viserys said that Rhaenyra was not innocent in this story either and that she and Daemon share the blood of the dragon and that they are restless and chaotic.

And that’s one of those good, true things that Viserys says in HOTD !

Because yes, this guy may be stupid sometimes, but he sometimes says intelligent things.

And seeing as how HOTD always puts Daemyra in comparison and being similar to each other comments should be taken seriously.

It only verbalizes what HOTD was already showing since episode 1.

The fact is that, to return to the main subject :

At this point it's just nitpicking Daemon's character to spit on him again by dwelling on a word whose meaning is distorted in a conversation.

It's still crazy how much energy the antis can have against this character !

[towriteloveontheirarms]

heyyy, if you take requests pleaseeee write a Aemond×reader fic, but reader is the daughter of Daemon and Rhaenyra, she is a young woman with Rhaenyras beauty and Daemons behaviour, she was an ally to Aemond when they were children unlike her half-brothers, but after the night he lost his eye they got seprate thanks to going and living with her family in the dragon stone ( i dunno if i am writing this right english ain't my first language) and after some years, they meet each again and the point is she haven't been sending any letters to him and stuff. i know it's long but i would appreciate you writing anything like this😭❤ and pleaseee if you do accept, make it dark Aemond.

I´m so sorry it took me so long to finish this bestie, but I hope you are still interested in it and will like what I wrote<3 Especially with it being spooky season I love writing/reading all the dark fics I can get my hands on!

I will not let you go again

pairing: Dark!Aemond Targaryen x Daemyra´s daugther!Reader

synopsis: “I love you, my sweet wife.” He murmurs into your ear afterwards.

There once was a time where these words would have made you happy beyond believe, but that was a long time ago. And he wasn´t the only person that had changed for the worse.

warnings: dark themes, mentions of non-consensual sexual acts, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, afab reader

word count: 0.9k

His one seeing eye burns through you during the entire dinner. The truth is you have felt his eyes on you from the second you had arrived at the Red Keep with your family. And while at first it was trying to find out who you were and where he knew you from, now at dinner, it glowed hot with either anger or something more carnal, you aren´t entirely sure. As if the tensions between your families hadn´t been high enough already. Every time of the little times your mother and father take you and your half-siblings back to the capital you are reminded once more as to why your mother had took you away to Dragonstone all those years ago. The sparks of dislike that flew between your half brothers and your uncle flew were enough to set all of King´s Landing on fire, but the hate between your mother and her former best friend had the potential to destroy all of Westeros. It comes as no wonder when the meal escalates in a borderline brawl. Jacaerys has always been bad at controlling his temper and your once beloved uncle Aemond gladly took advantage of that. You would like to say you were not surprised by who the once sensitive, bullied boy turned into, but it didn´t come as much of a shock. Before you had been taken away from your former home you had considered your uncle a friend. That was off the table now.  Yet even as you saw this change in him, saw the strength and cold in his singular seeing eye, you would have never trusted him to go this far.

You walk to your chambers after your mother had told you so, in a slow pace. Careful eyes and ears paying attention to the hallways around you. However Aemond still manages to surprise you. His large, rough hand clamps over your mouth to silence you, the other holding you against his body so you don´t even have a chance to struggle against him. Once he has you in his chambers and you are able to whip your head around you truly see him for the first time. Not only has he grown from the sensitive, bullied boy, not only did he have a cold, strong aura surround him, he seemed downright obsessive. In that moment you can see it in his eye… your doom. He walks towards you without saying a word. His movements similar to that of a lion. Then Aemond finally speaks.

“I believed us to be friends. I considered you the only person able to understand me…” He whispers.

“We were, uncle. I was, I do. We could be again.” You take a step back for every step he takes towards you.

“Yes? And how do you propose we are going to do that?” he growls. “You could not even send me a single letter.”

“I tried to. You have to believe me, dear uncle, but my mother wouldn´t let me…” A gasp escapes your lungs when you feel your back hits the cold brick wall.

“I do not believe you. There have been many chances, but it is all alright now. I will not let you go again, now that I have you. You will be mine. Forever.” Aemond´s breath is hot on your ear. As if it wants to burn you.

“I do not understand…” You shake your head at what he is saying.

“Do not worry, sweet niece. You will soon enough.” He cups your cheeks in his hands and kisses you passionately.

The rough kiss is just the beginning of a night that would haunt you in your sleep for the unforeseeable future. Aemond carries you to the bed and makes sure to breed you thoroughly. Making sure that his seed would take, while making sure you don´t get away from him. And he needs to, because you refuse to give up the fight. He knows that if you end up with child your mother would most likely try to make you wed the child´s father and as much as his mother hates yours, how high are the chances she refuses when he shows himself to be willing to. He knows that you know.

And what feels even worse is, that the seven or fate or whatever the one responsible is called, seem to be on his side.

Without any access to moon tea and a guarantee that no one would learn of what had occurred that cursed night, your pregnancy starts to show a few moons later. Your parents are beside themselves and immediately ship you back to the capital. Signaling the start of a long and rather tedious discussion between your families. At the end of which waits a sept and a marriage bond that is about as wanted as the whole pregnancy. Yet you are in no place to speak up. You don´t get the chance to. You should have made better choices if you did not want this, are your mothers only words on the matter towards you. All the while there is the smuggest of smiles securely on Aemond´s as well as Aegon´s faces. You wished you could wipe it off their faces with your fists.

But you don´t do that. You swallow every bad feeling, aside of a few tears during your vows, until you feel entirely empty and cold.

Once you are pronounced man and wife Aemond kisses you so gently, it´s almost impossible to feel his lips on yours and yet it still makes you feel sick.

“I love you, my sweet wife.” He murmurs into your ear afterwards.

There once was a time where these words would have made you happy beyond believe, but that was a long time ago. And he wasn´t the only person that had changed for the worse.

“I love you as well, my dragon.” You reply. The words devoid of any emotion.

[alicentsgf]

Re: Alicent Margaery thing

They get so mad because they like to revel in the fact that Alicent has no known direct descendants. They like to headcanon that Daemyra’s direct descendants are the most important characters in Westeros from the North to Dorne, so they say that Margaery is a direct descendant of Daemon’s through Rhaena when there is no real evidence to support that. She became the wife of a third Hightower son and had 6 daughters and no sons of her own and because there is no political advantage and nothing to gain from Lord Lyonel marrying his heirs to his brother Garmund’s daughters. His brother is already his ally, Lyonel is the Lord and inherited everything and there are no more dragons to claim by then so Dragon’s blood is not important anymore. Targaryen Princes are unlikely to ever marry a Hightower daughter again. So marriages between the cousins probably didn’t happen, especially when more important alliances within the Reach and Realm had to be reformed.

On the other hand we can say with just about 100% certainty that although Margaery is not a direct descendant of Alicent, they both directly descended from the same line of the Hightowers. We viewers/readers are definitely meant to draw parallels between Margaery and Alicent. Both of their Grandfathers were the Lord of House Hightower. Both are the youngest of their siblings and are the only daughters amongst multiple brothers (book Alicent, although Condal also mentioned that he hasn’t forgot about Alicent’s other brother?) they have brothers that are knights and are very protective of them. Both happen to have mothers named Alerie/Alyrie and that’s a purposeful decision by the writers meant to remind us that they have a familial link.

One had a scheming father and uncle and the other had a scheming Grandmother and father. They were both the favorites over their brothers and their families had all of their ambitions riding on and invested in them and not their brothers, they were taught how to play the game at a young age and then they made them Queens. Both worshipped the Seven and were beloved by the smallfolk. Both were clever, witty girls with snappy one liners who had big hearts but could also be scheming, cunning and cruel. They were ambitious Queens who wanted their sons to end up on the iron throne. Both were smarter than their husbands who were both shitty Kings. Margaery wanted to manipulate and tame Joffrey so she could rule the Kingdom for him, while Alicent actually got to rule in place of Viserys for many years while he rotted away

We can also look at Alicent and draw similarities to Margaery in appearance too. While their actresses look nothing alike both were stunningly beautiful and stylish girls. Their hair colors and textures are close as is the way it’s styled at times. Green is also a shared theme between them. It’s a color constantly linked to the reach, which is the hub of agriculture in Westeros. They’re descendants of Garth the Greenhand whose name evokes thoughts of greenery, flowers, planting and growing, Margaery’s house words are “Growing Strong” and it’s colors are Green and Gold, a color Marg wore often in the book. While Alicent adopts green as hers and her children’s Official colors in relation to the color that the Hightower lights up when declaring war. In addition to the green. Aegon incorporates the color gold as well in honor of his Dragon. The Greens were constantly surrounded by the colors green and gold. Helaena wears gold and she dresses their children in Golds and greens.

There are no links like that from Margaery to Rhaena and there are no parallels between them. We aren’t meant to think of Margaery when we see or read about Rhaena.

Disclaimer: This is in no way implying that Rhaena’s children are not real Hightowers because whichever houses her daughters and their children ended up in, they still descended from the Hightowers too.

Literally not gonna say anything. You said it all perfectly.

[sankta-wraith]

I Vowed Not to Fight Anymore (If We Survived the Great War)

After Daemon’s vision of young Rhaenyra on the Iron Throne, he flies back to Dragonstone to check on his wife. Based on a post by @daemyra-fire. Title is from The Great War by Taylor Swift.

“Bisa iksis skoros ao va moriot jeldan, iksis ziry daor?” This is what you always wanted, is it not?

Daemon woke with a gasp, Rhaenyra’s words ringing in his ears. For a moment he could feel her blood on his hands, but when he looked they were clean, and the feeling vanished. He took deep breaths, trying to steady his racing heart, but to no avail. The dream, or whatever it was, had left him thoroughly shaken. Rhaenyra. Gods it had looked so much like her. Rhaenyra as she was nearly sixteen years ago, when he had kissed her for the first time then abandoned her, only to return so he could watch her wed another man. And he had killed her. Cut her head off as though she were a common criminal, and not the love of his life. Quite honestly, he wasn’t sure how it had happened. One moment he had been frozen, staring at a ghost of the past as it spoke all the words he’d always feared hearing, and the next, Dark Sister was in his hand, and her head was rolling on the floor. Daemon felt vaguely ill. He could still recall the way Dark Sister had gone through her slender neck. It had felt horrifyingly familiar. A stark reminder that, even with her dragons blood and the crown on her head, Rhaenyra was still mortal. She could be killed. He needed to see her. The thought spurred him into action, and he slipped from his bed, pulling on a loose shirt and breeches. He made a move towards Dark Sister and then thought better of it. The odds of him encountering an enemy at this hour were slim, and the dream was still too fresh in his mind. He knew that he was being ridiculous. Surely he would have heard if something had happened to his Queen. Flying to Dragonstone, at this hour, with nary a word to anyone or a raven sent ahead, was sheer madness. But, try as he might, he could not rid himself of the sight of her body on the floor, divested of its head. He would not be gone long. Harrenhal to Dragonstone was a relatively short flight, and Daemon did not plan to linger. He would simply see her, remind himself that she still lived, and leave. She would never even know he had been there.

The halls of Harrenhal were mercifully empty. Daemon had not expected to meet anyone at this hour, but it was still a relief when he reached Caraxes without anyone stopping him. The Blood Wyrm was sleeping just outside the castle walls, his wings tucked in and tail curled tight around him, looking rather lonely. Daemon felt a surge of guilt at the sight. His dragon was mated to Rhaenyra’s Syrax, and for the last six years, the two could often be found wrapped around each other, as though embracing. Caraxes stirred slightly at his approach, but did not wake. “Caraxes,” Daemon murmured gently, running a hand over the scales on the top of the dragon’s head. His mount’s eyes flickered open, and he let out an irritated hiss. “Lykirī.” Daemon pressed his forehead to Caraxes’s snout. “Lykirī, Caraxes.” He waited until the hissing subsided before he spoke again. “Īlon sōvegon syt Zaldrīzesd��ron. Kesā ūndegon Syrax.” The last part seemed to get his attention, because he stopped glaring at Daemon and screeched softly. Daemon chuckles and climbed into the saddle. “Sōvēs, Caraxes!” The Blood Wyrm was all too happy to obey.

It was still dark when they reached Dragonstone. A less experienced dragonrider might have balked at the notion of landing with such little light, but it was familiar to Daemon. He and Rhaenyra had often gone flying at sunset, usually staying out till dusk. Admittedly, they had always returned before night truly fell, but Daemon was confident, and they landed on the Dragonmont with little difficulty. The Dragonkeepers were nowhere in sight, likely still abed, but Daemon did not mind. The less people who saw him here the better. He dismounted smoothly, stepping back to allow Caraxes entry into the tunnels of the Dragonmont. The Blood Wyrm slunk off into the caves, presumably seeking Syrax. Daemon watched him go. With a sigh, he turned away from the caves and faced the doors to the main keep. He paused for a moment on the threshold, steeling himself against the memories that threatened to engulf him. He could still turn back. Caraxes would be most displeased, but he could do it. If he called him back now, they could return to Harrenhal in time for breakfast. Only the dream was stopping him. The image of Rhaenyra’s head on the ground was burned onto his eyes. If he left now, it would continue to torment him, worming its way into his every thought and rendering him even more useless than he had been. No, he could not leave. Not until he saw Rhaenyra. Gathering his resolve, Daemon put his hand on the door, and entered the castle.

The halls were nearly deserted at this hour, but Daemon tried to stay in the shadows. Not that he was hiding. Why should he? He was a Targaryen, a prince of the blood. He was welcome in Dragonstone whenever he pleased. But all the same, he would prefer not to encounter anyone. A guard would surely wake Rhaenyra, who would demand to see him, and within an hour the whole castle would know of his return. It was better to stay as quiet and invisible as possible, even if he hated sneaking through the castle he had lived in for six years. He could not, however, avoid Rhaenyra’s Queensguard. One of them, Ser Steffon Darklyn, was stationed outside her door. Daemon saw the man’s eyes widen as he approached. “Prince Daemon,” he said warily, “I was not aware you had returned.” “Nor is anyone else,” Daemon replied, “I arrived only moments ago.” Ser Steffon nodded, but the wariness remained in his eyes. “I shall wake the Queen,” he said, turning towards the door. Daemon held up a hand “No need, Ser Steffon. I shall not be staying long, and I am sure the Queen is weary. Do not disturb her for nothing.” He moved towards the door, only to find the White Knight blocking his way. “My Prince, the Queen has commanded that no one is to be allowed into her chambers. Perhaps it would be better if-” “You might remember, Ser Steffon, that my wife and I share chambers? Surely you would not bar the Prince Consort from his own rooms?” Daemon tried to keep his tone even, but he doubted he had done a very good job. The knight hesitated, and he felt a surge of irritation. Did they truly think he would murder Rhaenyra in her bed? He was not even armed, much less equipped for regicide. Ser Steffon seemed to realize that, because he stepped back. “Apologies my Prince.” Daemon put his hand on the door, then paused and turned back towards Ser Steffon. “You will speak nothing of my presence here. I will not be the subject of the latest court gossip.” He nodded. “Yes , my Prince.” Daemon turned back towards the door, and slipped into his wife’s rooms.

He saw Rhaenyra first. He always did. She demanded his attention simply by existing. Her presence was a call that he was utterly helpless against, not that he often tried to resist it. Her hair was spread out on the pillow in a patch of moonlight that made it glow like beaten silver. Daemon moved closer. She shifted in her sleep, turning her face to his. His breath caught in his throat. Rhaenyra had always been beautiful, exquisitely so. But now she was incandescent. Daemon did not know if it was a result of their prolonged separation, but it seemed as though she had become more lovely over the past weeks. He knelt at the side of the bed, but made no move to wake her. She looked peaceful in sleep. At ease in a way Daemon had not seen since they left for Kings Landing. He sent a silent thanks to the Fourteen for allowing her to at least have peace in the night. The Fourteen, it seemed, did not want to be thanked, for at that moment, a furrow appeared between her brows, and her eyes flickered open. “Daemon?” Her voice shattered his any resolve he might have. He pulled her into his arms, holding her tight to his chest with a desperation he hadn’t felt in years. “Rhaenyra.” His voice sounded hoarse, even to his own ears. “Rhaenyra, Rhaenyra, Rhaenyra.” Daemon said her name the way some men recited their prayers. He pulled away to look at her, both hands coming up to cradle her face. Her deep violet eyes, almost black in the candlelight, were wide with confusion, and still cloudy from sleep. “Daemon what—” She broke off, then started again. “Why are you here?” There was no accusation in her voice. Only confusion, curiosity, and a heartbreaking amount of hope. She is still half asleep, he realized. Else she would not have greeted me in such a way. She likely will not even remember this when she wakes again. It was perhaps the last thought that allowed him to answer so honestly. “I needed to see you.” She hummed contentedly and buried her head in his chest. Daemon blinked. That was not the reaction he had been expecting. She seemed barely aware of what she was doing. Almost as if… Daemon glanced around the room, searching for proof of the theory that was starting to form. He found it on the low table near the bed. A small flagon, open and likely empty. Daemon was willing to bet a considerable amount of money that it had once contained dreamwine. He held Rhaenyra tighter, chin resting on her head. “Rhaenyra,” he said gently, “Have you been sleeping well?” Daemon felt her exhale against his neck. “No.” Her voice was starting to slur, dreamwine fighting to drag her from the waking world again. “Not without you.” The world froze. Daemons throat constricted to the point of pain. He knew what he should say. The words rose up in him like dragonfire, ready to be unleashed. I am sorry. I should not have left you. I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you… He knew what he needed to say, and still he could not do it. Instead what he managed to choke out was, “I’m here now.” Rhaenyra hummed again and nestled deeper into his arms, oblivious to his inner turmoil. She yawned, the familiarity of it making Daemon’s heart tighten. She would not stay awake much longer. Already her eyes were drifting closed, and her breathing was beginning to even out. It was time to go. He should leave, let her sleep. Gods knew she would need it. He pressed his lips to her hair and laid her gently on the bed. “I am sorry, nũha prūmia. I must return to Harrenhal.” Daemon did not think she had heard him, he had spoken softly and Rhaenyra seemed to have fallen back asleep, but as he turned to go, he felt a hand on his wrist. “Stay.” It was so faint, that for a moment Daemon wondered if he had imagined it. But Rhaenyra’s hand around his wrist was warm and undoubtedly real, and when he turned, she was looking up at him through half lidded eyes. “Stay.” The second time was not a request, it was a command. One that Daemon, who had never been able to deny her anything, had no choice but to obey.

Slowly, as though in a trance, Daemon walked back to the bed and slipped beneath the covers. His hands found their usual places: one around Rhaenyra’s waist and the other cupping the back of her neck. When had he last held her like this? Viserys had still been alive, so had Luke. Visenya had still been nestled safely in Rhaenyra’s womb. He had nearly forgotten how well she fit in his arms. How right it felt to hold her. He let his mind wander, reveling in the silken feel of her skin and the way her soft breath brushed his neck. She was made for him, and he for her. And he had to leave her again. The thought cut through the fog in his mind. Daemon glanced toward the window. How long had he spent here? The sky was still dark, but he thought he could see hints of grey. He had lingered too long. He had to return to Harrenhal and finish what should have been done weeks ago. It was the pragmatic thing to do. The thing that would help Rhaenyra the most. He knew this, and yet, as he untangled himself from her arms, it felt as though he were making a fundamental mistake. In the Stepstones, Daemon had known a man who had taken several arrows to the arm. It should have been a relatively easy recovery, but they had been low on medical supplies, and eventually infection had set it. When it became apparent that he would loose the arm, they had given him milk of the poppy and removed his arm with a well sharpened axe. Daemon still remembered the look on his face when he had woken, the horror that had dawned in his eye as he realized a vital piece of him was gone. Leaving Rhaenyra felt something like that, only he was wielding the axe. Daemon knew he being a touch dramatic. He would return to Rhaenyra, he would reclaim his missing piece. But for now, the phantom pains would grow stronger as the distance between them became ever greater.

He said nothing to Ser Steffon on his way out. To his great relief, the knight did not question him, only nodded in acknowledgement as Daemon passed. Caraxes was already waiting him. The sight nearly made Daemon smile. His mount always knew precisely what he needed. "Vēzot, Caraxes," he called once he was saddled, "naejot." As they approached the tunnel opening, Daemon bit back a sigh. It had begun to rain. Caraxes whistled angrily. Daemon patted the bright red scales on his neck "Lykirī, dokimarvose." The Blood Wyrm quieted. "Sōvēs.” Caraxes launched him himself into the downpour.

Daemon watched as Dragonstone grew smaller beneath him. Rain and darkness hid most of the castle from view, but he could still make out the lights of guards patrolling the walls. The sight reassured him slightly. He turned away, forcing the memories of Rhaenyra in his arms to the back of his mind. He would see her again. As soon as he secured the Riverlands he would see her again. He would have to meet with the Lord Paramount of the Trident and remind him of the oath he had once sworn to Rhaenyra. Daemon detested the subtleties of negotiations, but he was skilled enough at it, and he could certainly stomach the Lord of the Trident if it meant an army for his Queen. With a plan in place, Daemon felt more focused than he had since his departure from Dragonstone. He would get his wife her army, and with it would come the return of her trust. He held on to the image as Caraxes flew: Rhaenyra on the Iron Throne, and Daemon in his rightful place at her side. Queen and Consort, ruling together.

High Valyrian translations:

Lykirī: Be calm

Īlon sōvegon syt Zaldrīzesdōron. Kesā ūndegon Syrax: We fly for Dragonstone. You will see Syrax.

Sōvēs: Fly

Ñuha prūmia: My heart

Vēzot, Caraxes: Up, Caraxes

Naejot: Forward

Lykirī, dokimarvose: Be calm, focus

[monbebe-monstax]

The only reason why I'm tb is because of rhaenyra and that's it... and it's so funny to see daemon stans and daemyra shippers lose their shit over this new still of him abusing her 🤣🤣🤣 " b-but they're just trying to ruin his character" " h-he's supposed to be a morally Grey character" " book daemon would never" shut up u stupid bitch..... the same daemon who started fucking grooming her when she was 14, the same daemon who killed rhae just cause he didn't want to be with her, the same daemon who kept laena from seeing her family, the same daemon who fucked his niece a COUPLE of hours after his dead wife funeral, the same daemon who CHOKED rhaenyra ( even after her child had died and after her miscarriage) the same daemon who was planning a war wrather than be there for her doing said miscarriage, the same daemon, WHO IN THE BOOKS, prefers young maidens virginity ( and we know what "young" I'm talking bout right) the same daemon who leaves rhaenyra for a 16 year old eveb though he's 50.... is that the daemon yall are speaking about or is there another daemon that yall are trying to act like exists????? Yall like to sit here and blame the greens for rhaenyras pain but don't be blind and act like daemon doesn't have a hand in it also..

[2rats1gogh]

In regard to your criticism of HotD’s casting choices can we also point out that a lot of it was done to make Team Black look better.

Rhaenyra is never shown as an 8 year old because there is no way in hell the audience would be ok with Daemyra if they showed how he was grooming her from such a young age. Instead she’s played by 19 year old Milly, although still creepy now it’s just a big age gap between two consenting adults.

Also Jace and Luke are played by actual teenagers, the audience were automatically endeared to them because their actors are precious and adorable. AH&A on the other hand are played by 20 somethings, they’re not given the opportunity to be children the way Rhaenyra’s are. Even when they were young the show purposely made the Green kids look pale and odd looking, massive contrast to J&L who are rosy cheeked and curly haired.

100% agree. Daemon’s grooming would’ve look a LOT creepier if the actress who played younger Rhaenyra actually looked like a 16 year old. Millie does look young, but she looks like she’s in her early 20s.

+ Alicent’s children all look like grown ass adults while Rhaenyra’s look like innocent babies, even tho Aemond and Jace are supposed to be almost the same age. It’s so annoying.

The creators are so biased and it fucking shows, it’s embarrassing.

[syndrossi]

What do you think Jon and Rhaegar’s relationship will be like Aegon and Viserys? (Daemyra’s sons) Assuming they exist in Resonant, the age gap would be pretty significant, ( I believe that it’s similar to Jon and Rickon but I don’t quite remember.) I think they would both enjoy having younger brothers, but they would also be burdened by the knowledge of what they later become, Rhaegar probably more so than Jon. I think it wouldn’t be as bad with Viserys since (from what I remember) he becomes Hand of the King for most of his life and then King at the end, but I feel like it would be pretty sad for them to see Aegon knowing the kind of life he’ll end up having. It would also be interesting to see how Rhaegar feel about Aegon since the dragons did die out under his rule. I don’t think he’d resent him, but he might have a hard time reconciling a young, happy Aegon who loves Stormcloud, with the broken, dragon-fearing king he’s supposed to grow into.

Well, if Laenor died tomorrow (sorry, @textbookchoices) and Viserys tripped over his corpse in his haste to arrange the match between Rhaenyra and Daemon, they'd still be at least nine years older! So if we get Aegon and Viserys, they would definitely have a decent age gap. The boys would be very sweet to their little brother(s), I'm sure, and especially determined to shield them from any harm given what they know of their original fates.

But I also don't think they'd assume their brothers will meet the same fate. Quite the opposite, it's their goal to see their family happy, and dragons enduring. It doesn't mean their historical knowledge won't color some interactions, but as you said, little Aegon isn't the broken child-king he becomes at the end of the Dance. And the knowledge in their heads is very abstract--words on pages, thin sketches of a person, whereas they're changing linens and being spat up on by these little babies, whose personalities they get to watch develop.

(Now, could other challenges and tragedies threaten their little brothers? Definitely, and in some ways it's even more terrifying because they don't know what to expect.)