#dettles

[daemonxnettles]

Maester Norren writes that "the prince and his bastard girl" supped together every night, broke their fast together every morning, slept in adjoining bedchambers, that the prince "doted upon the brown girl as a man might dote upon his daughter," instructing her in "common courtesies" and how to dress and sit and brush her hair, that he made gifts to her of "an ivory-handled hairbrush, a silvered looking glass, a cloak of rich brown velvet bordered in satin, a pair of riding boots of leather soft as butter." The prince taught the girl to wash, Norren says, and the maidservants who fetched their bath water said he oft shared a tub with her, "soaping her back or washing the dragon stink from her hair, both of them as naked as their namedays."

Fire & Blood🔥

[ride-thedragon]

THE MANY WAYS TO TAME A DRAGON : BY NETTLES.

Find time in the day to be with them.

Keep up with certain rituals.

Know that there will be rumours.

Accept their little gifts.

Know that they'll protect you.

And by then, you should have claimed a dragon.

[bohemian-nights]

-Fire & Blood 🐑🐉

[selkiewife]

FANCAST of THUSO MBEDU as NETTLES HOUSE OF THE DRAGON || FIRE AND BLOOD

[qyburnsghost]

I hope the attention that the horrible racism Bethany is receiving also opens the door to how ignored her character along with Rhaena is in the show and the fandom. There are hardly fics with them compared to others, or there are tons of OC characters who just take their personalities and characteristics. They are often ignored in art works, or memes, or anything while everyone else is included. I’ve said this indirectly for months but like .. ugh . I feel like people are willing to ignore or block out more than half of the show or story line or team or whatever like they don’t exist just because they don’t like what they look like or can’t identify with them just because they don’t look like them.

I was hoping to have all sorts of variety of fandom activity (for all the characters)when the show came out but eventually I found out it is severely limited and I wish I could write again so I could fill the void. And I won’t bother with all the altering of the storyline by the writers/producers and plots from the book for laena, the dragon twins, to make them seem mute,unloved or glorified extras, etc .Anyways I’m rambling and no one cares. I hope Bethany, Phoebe and if we get a Nettles actress is doing okay.

[mejcinta]

Parallels Between Daemon and Aemond (narrative foils).

1. Both believe they would make better kings, even dismissing the existence of their brothers' heirs ahead of them in the line of succession e.g Daemon with baby Baelon, Aemond with Jaehaerys.

Episode 1 Daemon: "Until your mother (Aemma) brings forth a son, you are cursed with me."

Episode 9 Aemond: "I'm next in line to the throne. Should they come looking for me, I intend to be found."

2. Both men, however, are loyal, respectful and defensive towards their brothers' positions as kings, even though they actively oppose their brothers' decisions and challenge their suitability to the role of king.

Daemon to Viserys in ep 1: "The blood of the dragon runs thick...he (Otto) doesn't protect you, I would."

Aemond to Lucerys at Storm's End, about Aegon: "Did you really think that you could just fly about the realm trying to steal my brother's throne at no cost?"

The duo also notably pursued their ambitions after their brothers were officially out of the picture, with Viserys dead and Aegon severely injured and incapacitated after the battle of Rook's Rest.

3. Both Daemon and Aemond have escaped marriages of duty, more or less. Daemon's marriage with Rhea Royce ended when he killed her. Aemond's betrothal to Floris Baratheon was dissolved or put on hold indefinitely after he killed Lucerys.

4. Both men have been romantically entangled with lowborn women, who they tried to legitimise to no avail.

Daemon took Mysaria as his lady when he captured Dragonstone for himself, demanding that she be recognized as his wife. He also later consorts with Nettles, a young dragonseed, who he is forced to leave in order to preserve her from Rhaenyra's wrath.

Aemond was besotted with Alys Rivers, a bastard woman in Harrenhal that was believed to be a woods witch skilled with potions and gifted with visions. He's assumed to have married her (as she was referred to as his widow) and she fights for their son's claim after Aemond's death.

Aemond and Daemon are foils, different as they are similar. Second sons burdened with the demands of duty and loyalty, cursed with dreams of greatness never quite fully realized; yet ending it all fighting for the cause they believe in and for the people they love.

[lovelipton]

From Eden.

Chapter 8.

Smut Warning! Age Gap. P and V sex. Oral sex. Bath sex. Look, two people match each other's freak, and I can't give anymore warnings.

Also I'm tagging my moots @qyburnsghost because I took way too long with this.

He should’ve anticipated her dark eyes turning in his direction, yet they managed to shock him as easily as they found his. She was submerged in the water, suds and bubbles floating about with her hair tied back, all the warm light from he flames made her a reflection of gold and bronze. Never so surely had a glance won his worst interest back.

Her expression wasn’t one to be read, by the time she turned to get a wash cloth and continue without any acknowledgement towards his presence, he had no clue what she might feel towards him. For all he could call it, her silence wasn’t petty, it simply cared to be. He made his way to her side as he had all those times before glancing anywhere but her in the process. Half of it was his own arrogance , refusing to be ignored yet he felt he knew the next half was simply the desire to disrupt an impregnable silence.

Even if she ordered him to leave it would be a word towards him he thought absent-mindedly. Ever so unpredictable, she turned towards him, glistening from the water, knees to her chest.

“Welcome back. You weren’t gone for long at all.” Her tone held some malice in it, as it should be given the tone of his departure. Her face gave no covering to the disdain she felt towards him now. Her eyes were hooded with her mouth puckered together to prevent any warmth. She would make him work for her favor.

“Perhaps our next fight will deal a lesson in telling time.” To that he smiled, it was just a small insult yet his pride did not take it to heart. If she needed to yell and degrade, the least he could do was endure it.

“Did you eat?” He asked her out of concern, he could see from her reaction she was too caught up in this rehearsed conversation to think about herself. She scowled at him now, something he’d never seen her show before. His past thoughts felt like misjudgments to her character, a clear communication in how little he truly knew about her.

“Did I fucking eat!” There was a break in the air as she raised her voice taking an exasperated tone, another thing she had never done. It was the closest portrait to the idea he had of her from Jace’s letters. Her calves aided in her modesty as she turned herself to him, he tried his best not to look past them, never once leaving her angry eyes. Her brows furrowed towards him, almost like a parent to her disobedient child. She had no reason to know that look yet she did it well enough to the point he felt Alysanne’s eyes on his.

“Where were you?” She changed her tune again, taking what seemed to be remorseful approach towards their conversation. He wasn’t sure he could begin to understand her, in truth he needed her forgiveness more than she’d know. They were both too familiar to allow it to fester as it had. Her eyes welled with tears, unblinking, awaiting his response.

“A brothel.” There was an ease replaced by a returning anger now, a more violent one, as though if only for a moment she’d forget what little proprietary remained and curse and pummel him.

“You left me angry and spiteful because of a brothel. To fuck a whore.” There was a trembling in her voice that chilled him. Still he saw an ease in her expression that he fell into. As though it meant he was free from the torment of what he had left unsaid. Her body joined her voice as she started shaking, rocking into herself and laughing.

He stopped and watched her entire demeanor shift wondering if he had sent her mad. Her tears that followed added to his concern, if he had hurt her in that way, to threaten her sanity over his stupidity.

Her laughs grew until they were happy sounding, a belly laugh with tears of joy, as though she’d been to a bar the entire night. He was at a disbelief at how quickly her emotions changed, wondering if one person could feel that extent of emotions. He’d never seen anyone so bare before, unashamed about all she clearly felt, hurt, hatred, betrayal and whatever he couldn’t assume.

When she dulled her expression she returned to the rocking, a comfort in the silence as she decided what tone she could take the night in. Another version of madness as the scent of the room creeper around him to lose his thoughts in. A naked girl in front of him and yet the smell of her and oranges entranced him all the same. His body betrayed him as he focused his thoughts on anything but his growing hardness. She gazed at him still, her hands moved from wrapped around to tracing the edge of the tub, seemingly delighting in his lost train of thought.

“Say something.” She was hushed now, quietly gauging him as he had her all those moments ago, trying to see where his mind was. It was a clear madness that they created as he laughed before answering.

“I should’ve told you where I was going.” It was an easy confession, too easy for him to think it would she sufficient. Her body seemed to ease with his words, not as tightly wound as it had been, an attempt to believe him, open up perhaps.

“I truly would not have judged you. You are a man with needs. I’m a girl with them.”

The thought rushed into his mind, he knew the comparison she was drawing, some part of him knew it was based on her earlier stories of couples and her latest with a Tully, yet his mind gripped the possibility all the same that she could suggest a conclusion with them. He felt mad now.

“Daemon?” She looked at him with a quiet concern, trying to dictate if all could start to be well between them.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. You have my full honesty now.” He felt strange in a word. His head felt light with the scent around him, the light around them seemed to glow more than shine. A small cup of bar ale would not have him like this, yet he gave into it, a certain freedom he had not give into before around her seemed to be the only right conclusion.

His reaction was rushed, in truth he simply wished for them to reach a place of comfort. It was all he wished for from the start, a true insistence. She reached out for one of his hands, tracing over the tips and pads of his fingers with h her thumb, as though it was a regular occurrence. Neither of their hands held bandages from their night, he thought, it was an aimless vision to see.

“Full honesty?” She cocked her brow at him, immediately making his breath race as she leaned closer, as much as she could without compromising modesty.

“You smell horrible.” Her whisper was intoxicating yet he caught her message enough to pace his reaction. A small laugh met her wicked smile as she leaned back making the water splash against the walls of the bath.

“I should have the maids arrange one after you.” It was a heedless answer, one in which her response did not warrant.

“Join me.”

He felt his head jolt before his body decided that was the movement, if she was unaware of her statement, her nonchalance did little to communicate it. He could feel the shock through his body, in the tips of his fingers where her hand rested moments ago. The Gods were cruel masters yet he was still shocked by her insistence. Surely she didn’t mean it.

“Daemon?” Her voice was unwavering, almost monotone and drawing him back entirely, she had moved herself to one edge of the bath, only two feet away from where he sat now. The bath was large enough for them both yet, some part of them would touch, it was too small to prevent even the smallest touch between them, he was at a loss.

“We’ve done it before, My Lord.”

She said it as though she did not remember the craze it had caused, her confession, an unsustainable blood pact, a kiss between them, how she fueled his mind. Even the thought brought back the scent of sand, the feel of it on his skin.

“You need not as well. It is simply an option.” She was concerned now. A symptom of his chosen coping to her offer. He’d have to answer, even if it was to deter her, they were close enough now that she did not see any issue with it.

“Unlike then, we’d both be naked.” He was right, he was just in that declaration, his tone was strong. The Gods may not be done with him yet, the restraint of him now was the hardest test. Why did she make it so hard? He should say no outright, she wouldn’t make him by any means. The worst part of him knew that it was the best suggestion she could’ve made. Logic and lust would tear at him to his end.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before. Same with you.”

It was something about the end he did not care to facilitate. He could walk away and leave, her eyes seemed set on her victory now, to what end, he couldn’t begin to understand. She was warm surely. There was a heat in him she belonged to, a bath couldn’t just be a bath, if it was to her, he’d be misleading her. At what point was that warmth bigger than all the precedent he set to protect her. Did she care?

“I’ll close my eyes for half a minute, you can either join or leave without a word.”

She put her hands over her eyes, the sound of the water trickling was almost music to him. He removed his doublet first, hesitating only at the buttons as he contemplated himself. She gained nothing from this, he reminded himself. The girl simply grew into his company, she desired him only as a companion. His dress shirt and breeches coming off surely marked a minute, yet her hands refused to move it self. With his small clothes off, his cock met the night air, springing forward in her company. His head was light as he crossed over to the near edge, submerging himself in the warm water, shielding him from the night air.

The water pooled at his waist as it rose to just below her breast. He wondered how long it was she found herself in the tub to maintain the warmth. He was curious to if the maids would question him being clean. Her hands dropped with that thought, a sly smile covering her face.

“Do you wish for lavender or cinnamon?” She asked unabashedly, as though she had planned to bathe him herself. He reveled in the hope of the offer. Could he not give in?

“I wish not to smell like a country lord.” His tone was more direct than he could remember being with her, as though his old self had started to join them. It was strange, yet she continued smiling.

“Is dragon stink and street ale a preference, Your Grace?” She turned away to a small cot alongside the bath that held little bottles of oils, choosing for him as she grabbed her discarded cloth. She did mean to bathe him it seemed.

“Dragon stink is the smell of an empire.” He justified, he heard a soft chuckle escape her and he felt bruised for a moment. She would laugh at his half earnest confessions if he let her.

“Or the excuse of an old man.” She retorted . The air grew playful now, as though they were closer. He reminisced on the humor he shared with other girls like her. Mysaria was a dry wit and Rhaenyra would humor him. Only Laena had ever been any type of combative. He looked at her with that gaze, she was unlike them all in most ways. She was unlike anything before her to him. Entirely new.

He held his breath when she came closer with the oil soaked cloth, with her knees down he had full sight of her breast, she had allowed the air to leave the room with her sudden, wanted nakedness. It was wonton, yet he was a desperate beggar at the sight of them. Her breast stood firm and her nipples were pebbled out the water, she drew too near for him to care if she question his intentions while staring, he was in awe.

Her eyes met his, with a shy smile, a flattered one as she began to scrub his neck, focusing on whichever area she touched. He did not dare say a word to it. Her legs were crossed as she settled near him, her breast moved with the water at her tiniest movement as she moved down to his neck and back, scrubbing at scars older than her. His cock was quite visibly hard, if her hands moved to his chest she’d be aware, yet he kept a silent atmosphere. Without words and actions it could mean nothing.

“I’ve come to a conclusion.” She stooped at his chest, just before she could need to address the state he was in. He turned his attention to his eyes, peeling them away from her soaked body. She did not wait on his ask before stating it.

“I do not have dragon blood.” The pleasant silence turned into a thunderous one. The weight of it boomed across the room, more than a hundred bards could hope to. He wanted to know why, to what end.

“I know what you believe and think but I simply do not care. I know who and what I am.” He couldn’t make out the smell of the oil she chose, yet it was as intoxicating as the oranges. She could be part fish for all he cared now, she drew his desire out like blood. Her bold claim simply stayed in the air, simply unyielding to his own beliefs, she did not care.

“Then you are not. Simply put.” He believed it he realized. The understanding affirmed something deep in his unsettled spirit. It was impossible but if he had to believe something to that end, there was no louder voice to convince him. Her face seemed off put by his agreement, resting on an ease he himself could see, as though the answer took root in her. He was unsure he had that effect on her.

For the first time, he felt as though there was a clarity in how he saw her. She was young, bold and emotional. She would not, perhaps she could not, hide herself from him, it was unnerving as it clicked that he was the same for her. All his faults, she had heard in legend, she had yet to hold a rumor, the accusations of others against him. The place she held was one untied to politics and court life. Her words only brought her comfort, she meant nothing more.

His eyes shifted to her full lips. She noticed it and made no motion to deter him. He imagined the night before, how the moon looked, how he felt, how she flowed into him and he into her, a commitment towards deities past them, long neglected in the demise of Old Valyria. Only with the name Targaryen behind them. Was it so different? She could be many things, he need only ask.

His thoughts were scrambled beyond thoughts as he noticed the stretch marks that began to spider her body. She was growing, gaining weight around her arms and thighs, fulling out to a more womanly shape yet her lips drew him back to her.

“You promised there would be an after the war.” Her breath was hot and clinging to him. She truly was that close, her warmth compensating for the deteriorating heat of the bath. He felt boundless, in this state, so much could happen if he leaned in, if his fingers left the bounds of him to graze her thigh.

“I did.” She let go of the cloth and cupped the side of his face, aligning their eyes to entrap his eyes, he needed her.

“Still?” Leaning in closer as she whispered, a careless secret between them, he’d hold it forever if she wanted.

“Always.” It was a promise deeper than blood. She was a state of being for him. He’d earned her, he’d won her favor. Anything for her was a guarantee

“And you live?” Her breath raised ever so slightly, she was a gentle nudge away from him. Perhaps seduction had been her intention. He hoped to not deter it now. He was as honest as he should’ve been.

“I’m not sure anymore.” There was a liberation in it, and a reckoning as her lips found his.

It was a hurried affair, her pulled her face as quick as his loss of composure would allow. She seemed equally as frantic as she slid her tongue into his mouth. It was a cruel dance, a quick one as she pulled away, creating tension to push back into as she got on her knees. There was no anticipation with her movements, they were as sure as her expressions. The water created a symphony as he gripped on her, no remorse or contemplation as he pulled her on in. Her legs landed on either side of him as her body accepted their every motion.

“ We can stop.” He broke away to say. So many thoughts, he wished to say, so many words came to mind to let her know, but as quickly as he said his peace, she was back on his tongue. The scent of the bath seemed to fuel it. This great lust between them was unlike any he had before. It was devouring him from the inside out, digesting whatever constraint he held between her thighs like this.

Yet she refused to answer him. At any other time he’d withhold himself, ease his mind into toying with her, demanding her answer and drawing out her resolve. Now he was a mad man who nearly came as she let her hips grind against his. Their arousal filled the room as she moved against him. She broke away to his jaw as she continued with reckless abandon. He could feel her wetness, he couldn’t resist his moan as she continued her relentless teasing.

“ I like when you moan.” It was a cruel comment now. He craved to be inside her, yet at her rate and his age it would be too much for the thought. His hand slid between her thighs to her peak as he began a torturous retort without words.

Her back arched , pushing her into his chest as he fitted his fingers between her folds, he pressed his thumb against it as his two fingers descended into her slit. It drew the most erotic moan he’d ever care cared to earn. Her hips rolled into him. Her hand took up his cock from behind and began a similar pursuit.

With their crazed movements the water splashed out of the tub and drowned the floors until not enough water was left. In the haze of the lust he could barely see anything that wasn’t her, yet she was so clearly defined. Her now loose curls bounced with her chest at his every thrust, she was both wet and sweaty in an insatiable mix that cause her skin to glisten. She could gladly be the end of him.

Her moans were becoming clear indicator of how near her peak was, half selfishly, he stopped his fingering and waited for her to settle.

She focused, eyes half open, head slowly turning back to him instead of solely entrenched in the pleasure of the moment. He knew he needed to say nothing for her but he couldn’t help himself.

He took to her neglected chest and started his long awaited coupling towards the middle. He was slow and languished in the taste of her in his mouth. It was the salt of her sweat and the oil from the oranges that took over, impairing his ability to do much else.

Before he turned to the other, he found the clarity in his mind to continue their endeavor.

“I want you to take me inside you when you come.” He enticed her enough to return to his chosen pursuit as she rather shamelessly, wordlessly descended on his cock.

His own cries were muffled into her chest while she howled at the introduction. She simply began rolling her hips towards him, at her own pace while they drew nearer to the precipice. His tongue licked and nipped at every inch of her while she rode him. Her warm heat was unyielding atop him. He felt his restraint bleed out slowly into her warmth.

Many quips came to as thought and died on his tongue as she changed direction, bouncing now as he held her in place. He brought himself to move to meet her with his own thrusts. He grew into his climax, every time they met, until it was nothing more than a needy clawing at release. She tightened with each bounce, her cries became frantic until she lurched forward in a hazy fall, shuddered into her apex, his continued thrusting, joined by the addition of his hand, brought her to her peak with one last cry. He followed suit lost in his lust, neglecting to try to save some deniability later on as he came inside her, releasing his warm seed into her without a hint of worry as she felt out her climax.

There was something to be said for the aftershock of pleasure he felt. It was the weight of her, the way she had molded herself during it, her lack of composure that she tried now to gain. There was nothing that was like her in this world. He caught his breath, feeling his mind suddenly care of what had occurred between them. He felt more like himself than he had in a long while. He looked at her to be reaffirmed, yet she seemed still caught in the moment.

He took to rubbing his hands down her back, assuring comforting words, not sure if he had hurt her. He had softened inside her before she made any movement to show how she felt. Her face was uncommunicative to how she felt.

“I should go…”

Her first words to him trailed off as she prepared her absence, it felt like a part of him was carved out as she raised up off him, he was entirely uncertain about how she had felt after as she got out of the now cooled tub, without another word to say if she was offended, she left, taking some half of him as she left.

He was wordless has he cleaned himself fully in her absence, his mind racing with any possibility that she wasn’t well. Perhaps this was the cost of desire, the cost of getting to close, going to far with her. He felt himself developed a headache in the contemplation. The room felt damp and unwelcoming now, his eyes burned with the repetition of all that had happened, unblinking as though she would reappear on him. He was tired by the time he had gotten out of the tub, careful to mind the spilled water as the burden of the affair had set into his skin.

It wasn’t simply an affair, he had a duty to many things, to her was without question. He’d have to protect her from court life, the whispers would remain whispers, unless she grew with child, he reckoned. That thought set in as he opened the door. She’d need moon tea, without question.

He was startled by her waiting presence in the room, looking directly as he entered, she seemed bashful. He could cope with shyness, he’d delight if that was her only feeling.

Her eyes widened as she began to say words that would falter in a few attempted syllables . Eventually, he decided on the mercy of speaking first, sparing her introduction.

“Are you well?” He recalled it, such a simple question, yet it held a moment for them, so different from who they were now. She shook her head yes before standing, not entirely sure who she was meant to convince.

Making her way to him, he realized she was as unchanged as she had left, perhaps she was simply overwhelmed by the instance. He could help but think back to it, how much more he’d want to show her, how many ways he’d want to see her, yet she had not voiced anything akin to that being a conclusion she hadn’t said anything at all.

“I will not be your whore. I cannot return to court with a bastard. I would not do that to your children, to Her Grace.”

Her conviction made him sigh, perhaps he should feel guilty for it, he would not have her be that to him, she was all too important to be reduced to a pleasure. She was so much of him, encompassing him in everything he wanted. He’d dedicate his life to that. Whatever she needed, he hold on to life for her.

“I would never ask that of you.” He cupped her chin, pulling her sight to him, it was an earnest principle. She was so much more than he could make her know. It was an overwhelming sensation. He felt old, looking at her, she was simply so full of life. He felt stagnant as she worked her mind to figure out what she wanted to say. He felt a drunk high yet entirely sober in her light and warmth.

His hand slid to her cheek as she leaned into his touch, ever so slightly, yet it simply felt striking. He could feel himself growing into her again, he felt aroused by what she was attempting. She could say what she wanted, get anything she asked of him, he needed to know that she was sure in that.

“I’d need moon tea now.” There was the flash of shyness he saw, she almost seemed embarrassed at the mention of it. She wasn’t wrong, he would not wound her with a bastard, cruel as it may be, as wanting as the idea seemed to grow as it festered in her thoughts. To see her change because of him, due to their passions, it was a liberating idea entirely. It doomed her much worse.

“Of course.” He wouldn’t let it take hold of him. That hopefulness with her was nice in time, after granted her protection, he’d keep her safe by any means.

An ease seemed to take over them. Her eyes where more playful, perhaps it was his hopefulness reflected in her. Perhaps he had earned her comfort.

“You were quick.” She jested at him now. He wanted to return the favor. He could imagine it now. He craved her like the best thing he’d ever tasted, she could be, he mused, smiling at the thought of their indiscretion. She wished to play with him. He needed nothing more. He moved forward, after ensuring it moved her back.

“This is always better with time. There are so many things I want to learn about you.”

He grabbed out to her hand as they went deeper into the room, only stopping when her calves hit the edge of the bed. He took her hand to his lips , grazing it slowly, an affection their pace had deterred a few moments ago. He saw her breath hitch at the touch of him. He lavished in it. In her every reaction. He was hard again, yet the need to know her overtook his own sensibilities, any hesitation he still kept, dissolved at the noise she made when his lips finally reached neck. It was low, and guttural, giving him everything he knew he needed from her in one moment.

He took a confidence in these revelations, moving his tongue in small circles, up her tightened jaw, until his mouth found hers. She was eager. She practically feasted on him, making him question his every want in that moment before he returned to setting the pace. He pulled away for a bit, drawing out his return until a whimper fell from his lips. He smiled at it.

“You need to pace yourself, you’ll love it if you let it build.” She groaned as gently as one could, as he reintroduced their lips, slowly, letting his tongue make up for any lack of passion becoming of the pace. They had enough time. She had taunted his return with the query of the night being young, shouldn’t they revel in it?

She grew into his timing, pulling at his robe, not undressing him as he made up for his reveling with how he wished to experience her. His mind slowly faltered to her answer as he could not make up his mind, his pace slowed as he tried to draw words from her.

“Tell me what you want.” He drew himself to her ear, nipping at the lobe as he asked.

She simply moaned, yet it wouldn’t do, he undid the tie of her robe, having her scantily clothed in his presence. Not enough to lessen his question, just enough to stir her need to answer. His hands met her tender nipples, stroking them between his thumb and index, having her arch to meet him, without them connecting at their hips this time. He refused to stoke her lack of answer any more than he did, returning his kiss to her neck, intent on leaving a mark.

“You on top of me.” She stuttered out, turning her face to meet him, making her intentions clear as her lips crashed on his. He removed the lose layer of modestly from her, pulling her into a lift, not quite ready to relinquish her wants as easily.

He dropped her onto the bed, rumpling the sheets as he kept her in place, he was determined to draw it out as long as he could. Her legs spread she fell, giving him the perfect opportunity to sink his face between her.

He gripped at her thighs, inhaling the scent of her before starting his devouring. The tip of his tongue toyed with the bud that brought her such release before, sensitive at his previous actions he looked up at her, a carnal lust hiding his need to see her entirely undone. He turned his head back down to start his ministrations fully, removing any form of delay by lapping at her folds, dining on her, trying his best not to overstate his intentions.

Her moans were restrained, trying her best to keep some decorum between them and their hosts. To her credit, it was a valiant attempt, her only true misgiving being his need to hear her, he slowed his course in response, taking his time with spoiling her, every new, untouched place, the taste of his seed mixed with her arousal, the heat of her on him, was enough to drive him mad, he could live there, worship at the apex of her. The Gods should be envious of him.

In almost a direct return her cries grew strained, low and deep, louder than they had been. He refused to add any part of him into her just yet, wanting the accomplishment to be on his mouth alone. When she began to pant almost, grind against his face, he knew he had her where he wanted, and so he pulled away.

Her reaction to his denial was splendid. She tried to get him to stay, her moans almost clawing him back to her need yet he held his resolve to know better, to make her feel better. Lusty boys and ladies alike from what little he knew would not have taught her. He wanted a first from her as much as he wanted her.

Daemon stood up, dropping his robe near her and revealed his nakedness to them both before climbing along side her, kissing her hair as she descended as much as he wanted before he joined her.

“That was cruel.” She said against him, head to his chest, her hips still bucked as though he was there, he was happy to oblige as he turned her on her back, his length hitting her brown thigh. He kissed her and pulled away, repeating as he saw fit too, letting her indulge in her own taste, before aligning himself with her center. He unhurriedly entered her, taking the time to get her accustomed to him.

It was a new feeling, they way she tightened around him, her body and need all surrounding him, he felt light headed at the thought of it, thinking about the actions he had undertook, the liberties he had given in to. As soon has his hilt had reached her pulled out, pushing himself into her hurriedly, gaining and unfiltered and rather loud moan from his companion

He continued his rhythm, until she settled into it, them changed his pattern by lifting one of her legs, folding it as he continued to fill her anytime she grew too accustomed. His hands and body found its own worship of her, bathing in her moans, bracing for her peak as he felt his own build. It was so much of her, all of her at his welcome. He lost any pace by the end, slamming into her as though he were a green boy, welcoming her wetness and convulsions at his intuitions.

He felt it build and build until he joined her cries of passion. She was not as relishing, putting her hand on his throat, stopping his reach and making him erupt with his seed spilling into her. He dropped his weight rather unwillingly on her in the end. She followed suit as she relented, giving into waves of pleasure, riding it out until she felt herself content at her state, as loud as she had been.

It was bliss as his mind connected with his body in the aftermath, her legs wrapped around him, refusing his departure from her. He traced circles on her, in the silent epilogue of it, she fell asleep after, unmoving from her place, she simply descended into that oblivion. His hand circled her naked thigh, not entirely comprehending what had occurred, simply knowing it was her. He knew he should carry her to her own bed, put a robe on her newly, sweat drench embody but he couldn’t help himself at the need to fall asleep alongside her, as they were.

[venusintheblindspots-blog]

The black ram!!! The black ram!!! Daemon’s eyes made four with the black ram!!! It might not mean anything but for the Nettles’ girlies this is peak!!!

[the-queen-who-should-have-been]

Nettles

Hardly a likely paramour for a prince, one would think.

[lemonhemlock]

Think nettles and Daemon were romantically together but the whole bathing thing... Maybe it's badly put cos Daemon is from another class and nettles is from the streets basically. It sounds like he was instructing her to live like the high class women he is used to being with or like myraria became elevating herself and living well through her spying. I think feudally taking baths and self care was kind of limited to a bath once a week or something? I dunno. Maybe nettles wasn't into self care cos of her circumstances like bathing and presenting herself prettily is gonna be low priority in trying not to starve. I think Daemon loved nettles and teaching her what he knows to elevate her and spoil her and be more his equal maybe? I dunno, i feel nettles is ignorant in female highborn things and he is instructing her like in my fair lady. I don't think he's teaching her how to bathe like she's dumb or a m infant I think its bigger than that. He's creating her in his image sort of, turning her into something else.

Hi there! To provide a little more clarity, I think bohemian-nights put it very well when they highlighted how much of a racial stereotype it would be to have one of the few black characters be uninterested in hygiene, so to speak. That depiction is not helping anybody. Percolating that interpretation further is equally unhelpful.

I do not think it even matches with authorial intent, because Daemon could have very easily ordered several maids to bathe Nettles. The issue is that they took baths together, when there was absolutely no need for that, and it was absolutely not the social norm either. Spending time with her, teaching her meal etiquette and how to dress is one thing and, yes, can very well be construed as a My Fair Lady scenario, but that little detail is put in there for a reason. They're not just non-sexually hanging out naked together when the urgency for such improper circumstances is artificially-engineered.

[daemonxnettles]

Daemon Targaryen x Nettles 🐑🐉

[ride-thedragon]

I don't believe Daemon and Nettles were romantic but you know who does...

1. Rhaenyra

2. Mysaria

3. Everyone at Maidenpool

4. The bards

5. Everyone in Westeros after due to the bards

6. Maester Norren

7. Mushroom

8. Maester Gyldayn.

9. Me

10. You

[bohemian-nights]

Such stories make for charming songs, but poor history.

[redrosesandcharmingsouls]

Hiii! Maybe someone has already asked about this, but I'm wondering - what are the top 5 things you're waiting for in the second season?

Hi! And no worriies ,no one asked me my top five specifically!.Anyway here is the list ,not rrally on order of importance since i want my cake and eat it too (For once!!!)

1)Green Family content both their dysfunctionality and the domestic fluff.You can guess what i mean for domestic fluff but i have very specific types of ideas for the Greens dynamic this season and i hope they will go with my route .

2)This is so silly but want the romance .I need the messiness and the loveliness of Helagon .I need the kind of weird and tragic but nonetheless passionate and soulfoul of the Alysmond .And then i want Alicole with their healthy tragic serving cunt courtly love .And of course the hateful sexiness of Rhaenicent thst never becomes canon .Curious for Dettles tho .

3)DAERON AND NETTLES MY LOVELIES AND SOME WONDERFUL CONTENT FOR MY GIRLS RHAENA AND BAELA.

4)Give me politics ,give me mind games ,give me alliances ,give me gossio ,give me drama ,give me gone wrong peace treaties .

5)I generally need the writers to mix the good parts of the show version of these charcaters with their books one.Both teams.

Thank you for the question!

[aeraxes]

lazy sunday morning .

cws : age gap, allusion to sex i suppose

ship : daemon targaryen/nettles

a/n : im lowkey proud of this even tho its short lol anyways i love them together . sorry if the valyrian's bad i wrote it from memory

Netty closes her eyes and leans back into the tub. Another early morning, another aftermath of one of her and Daemon's little 'escapades'.

"Ao mōzutis bisa, kessa daor sylutegon sȳz."

Daemon hands her a silver cup filled with something she doesn't recognize, while also speaking too fast for her to know what he just said. He looks quite proud of himself this time, a stark contrast to each time before.

Netty yawns, feeling utterly exhausted. She makes sure to hold the cup with two hands.

"...What?"

A chuckle falls from Daemon's lips. He'll have to give her another lesson later.

"I said that it won't taste good, you must drink it though."

Netty inspects the darkness of the cup. Tansy, lots of mint, a bit of honey that hasn't finished dissolving, and if she looks very closely, a bit of wormwood.

She looks at the mysterious concoction, then back up at her lover.

"You've never been particularly skilled in the kitchen..."

Daemon sighs. The child tests his patience every single day.

"It is not for taste, beloved. Women drink this so that they won't become pregnant. I'm guessing you wouldn't love the idea of having my baby now of all times, hm?"

Netty shakes her head immediately. She has not ever felt the need to risk her life to introduce another, Daemon knows this. Netty stirs the drink thoroughly and for too long, Daemon would say, before finally chugging the bitter substance.

It takes a minute to come to terms with the interesting taste of this liquid that is supposedly a tea that women drink often, and willingly.

"And you are sure that will help us?"

Daemon nods.

"It has to. If not..."

He trails off. Even considering the possibility is bad luck in his mind.

"Worry not. It seems you've perfected the recipe already."

Netty stands up before sitting on Daemon's lap. He sighs, his arms relaxing around her waist.

"You're soaking me, I hope you know that."

Daemon wraps a towel around her, doing nothing to remedy the water that drips onto the wooden floors. Netty just gets herself comfortable, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"Now you know how I feel."

[mejcinta]

The Bias Problem with HotD Relationships and Character Dynamics.

I have a big problem with how HoTD goes out of its way to make otherwise good Fire and Blood relationships bad just for spectacle sake and to shame certain characters while elevating others as the 'better' choice.

You see this with Laena and Daemon's show! marriage where they're miserable, and Rhaenyra is presented as this eternal love that Daemon will abandon his wife's memory for in a heartbeat during her own funeral. Just note that in the book Daemon's motive for marrying Laena wasn't clear, but Laena wasn't described as being miserable in her marriage. In fact, Daemon was quite loving and caring, even to her death day.

Also, when it comes to parenting, notice how Daemon is positioned all over the Strong boys and not Baela and Rhaena. He's not even uttered a single word to teen Baela and Rhaena directly in season 1.

Furthermore, Aegon and Helaena are very different in the show, with the emphasis being put on Aegon's infidelity instead of how he navigates his, need I say 'free', marriage with Helaena. It was always interesting how in the book Helaena seems hyper aware of his actions and responds with sass to people demanding she discover where Aegon is. It was not uncommon for princes to behave the way Aegon did in his marriage, but Aegon's conduct is treated as a unique case and a blemish on his character and Helaena's on the show, where even Daemon and his whores are offered more grace. The Dyana situation did not help their portrayal either.

And let's not forget Viserys and Alicent's marriage. Whereas in the book Viserys is said to do all that he could to please BOTH Alicent and Rhaenyra, the show hammers in the point that Viserys cares jack shit about Alicent. Even what he does to 'please' her, like letting Alicent choose who Helaena should marry instead of Rhaenyra, is never shown explicitly as an effort he makes to appease his wife. "I'm going to bed, Aemma" was also a painful and invented callback to Cersei and Robert's miserable marriage, despite of Alicent and Visery's marriage in the book and show being radically different from Cersei and physically abusive Robert.

Moreover, Viserys is somehow not allowed any scenes with his children with Alicent. Aegon and him especially have not spoken in depth at all, yet Aegon is the male heir he's always wanted and was willing to sacrifice his first wife Aemma for. And no, Visery's hostile interrogation of Aegon in ep 7 doesn't count as an interaction. Meanwhile, we have countless scenes of Viserys with Rhaenyra and Daemon.

On the family front, everyone that's NOT Viserys, Daemon or Rhaenyra look like losers.

Additionally, it goes without saying that ALL these changes have served to elevate Rhaenyra and Daemon as the ideal union and dynamic on the show. The general audience that have not read the books often see them as the symbol of an ideal couple and the media continues pushing this narrative as well.

All this leaves me wondering: what changes and sacrifices will they make with Nettles or even Alys and Aemond to maintain this image of Rhaenyra and Daemon that they have constructed and elevated as the ultimate power couple at the expense of other Fire and Blood relationships?

You know it is still possible to have other couples shine in their own right, and have their merits much as they are flawed...without taking from another couple. I don't think Ryan and Co believe in this concept, though. That is why other characters and their dynamics with others have been and will be compromised.