#house of the dragon humour | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

leiabird · 2 years ago

Text

Under the bed

2417 words

Lucerys Velaryon/Aemond Targaryen

Tags: Humour, Fluff, Secret Lovers

cross-posted on ao3

Rhaenyra hesitates before knocking on her son‘s door. The talk she wants to have with him is a delicate one and she does not want to frighten him. Still she feels it is necessary, for his own safety.

Firmly she knocks twice and braces herself. A “thunk” comes from the room and she furrows her brows.

“Lucerys?” she calls out, not wanting to invade his privacy by simply storming into his room, but now she is irritated if not even worried.

“A moment!” she hears her son’s voice. He sounds… panicked?

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes!” comes the immediate answer “I’m just… I was just getting dressed! A moment please!”

Rhaenyra relaxes and a small smile creeps up on her face. Has her son really slept this long? He seems to have inherited her own tendencies of sleeping way into the morning.

A moment passes, then another. Finally Lucerys calls “You can enter, mother!”

Turning the doorknob she steps into his chambers. Lucerys really looks like he has only just gotten up, his curls a bit of a mess and his clothes only hastily put on.

Smiling she steps up to him and begins to try to comb his hair with her fingers to give it at least a bit of order.

“Mother!” Lucerys protests, his cheeks glowing with embarrassment.

“Good morrow” she says, still smiling but stopping her attempts of coddling him “Have you slept in, my sweet boy?”

“I…” Lucerys hesitates “I… yes. I’m sorry. It will not happen again.”

At that she laughs. “Do not fret” she says “Believe me, I have done the same when I was your age.”

Her son lets out a small huff and nods his head.

Then Rhaenyra folds her hands in front of her and puts on a more serious demeanour.

“Unfortunately I am here to talk to you about a … concerning matter.”

Lucerys stares at her with wide eyes. “About what matter?”

Rhaenyra takes a deep breath and answers “Your uncle Aemond.”

If possible her son’s eyes widen even more and for a moment she sees confusion, panic and… something else on his face. Then he seems to pull himself together, blins a few times at her and asks “Wha- what about Aemond?”

“My brother” she continues carefully, not wanting to frighten her son further “Is a hotheaded man. He is impulsive and … dangerous as every skilled warrior is.”

Lucerys continues to stare at her with an unreadable expression.

“And I could not help to notice over the past few weeks that… well” talking about this is harder than she has anticipated “That he seems… more troubled than usual. Troubled by you.”

Now her son looks frightened. Her heart clenches and she immediately puts her hands on his arms and holds him tightly while still looking directly at him and continuing despite his fear.

“He is a man who believes he was wronged as a child when he lost his eye and that makes him unpredictable.” Another deep breath. “But I do not believe that he would harm you here in the Keep where all of us are around. I simply want you to be aware of this. He… Every time the family gathers he looks at you like…” She presses her lips into a thin line. She truly does not want to trouble her boy, but the way her brother has been looking at her son the past weeks makes her skin crawl. Aemond looks at Lucerys so intently as if he was imagining every possible way to harm him. And she will not let that happen.

Gathering herself she continues calmly “I simply want for you to be careful. Maybe try not to walk around alone as much and please try to avoid any confrontation with him. I am sure this… fixation he has will pass soon.”

Lucerys has listened to all of this with wide eyes and an open mouth. He no longer looks frightened but in complete disbelief. Rhaenyra tries to take that as a good sign.

Gently she takes him into her arms. Seemingly by pure reflex he hugs her back as they always do. Sometimes she misses the times when she could carry him in her arms at all times, tucked closely to her chest, safe in her embrace, sheltered from the world.

Aemond will not touch her sweet boy. She would never let that happen.

Her gaze wanders over Lucerys’ shoulder to the bed. Her brows furrow.

“What is that?” She asks and Lucerys leaves her embrace to turn around and inhales sharply.

“What do you mean?!” her boy asks and sounds a bit out of breath.

“That shirt” Rhaenyra says and steps forward to take the garment into her hands “I’ve never seen it before.”

“That… that…” Lucerys stammers “That is new!”

Rhaenyra smiles. Her son still doesn’t seem to be awake yet. Then she looks back to the shirt and her irritation returns.

“It is quite big” she states as she holds it up. The thing would nearly be a dress on her son who insists he will still have a growth spurt. Secretly she very much doubts that, especially at his age.

“Yeah that… Maybe they mixed something up” Lucerys continues while blinking rapidly at her.

“Maybe they meant it for Jacaerys” Rhaenyra concludes and her son sighs.

“Yes! That’s probably how it is!” He says eagerly and she smiles. She is happy how close her sons are, not at all like her and her siblings.

“I could bring it to him” she offers Lucerys who immediately wildly shakes his head.

“Don’t worry yourself, mother, I will bring it to him later” he insists and steps forward to take it from her hands.

Rhaenyra nods slowly and clasps her hands together. Lucerys has always been the most considerate of her boys, empathetic beyond measure. Her sweet boy.

Gently she puts her hand to the side of his head and leans in to give his temple a quick kiss.

“Try to wake up properly and join us for luncheon later, yes?”

Lucerys nods eagerly and with another smile she leaves her sweet boy alone in his room.

~°~

Lucerys stares at the door through which his mother disappeared again in complete disbelief. He is still holding the shirt in his hands.

Then he hears faint laughter coming from the bed. He turns around.

“Do you think this is funny?!” He asks still in disbelief.

Crawling out from under the bed appears his uncle Aemond, who seems to be delighted by this horrid situation. He is wearing pants but not his shirt, which Lucerys is holding at the moment.

Instead of answering Aemond sits down onto the bed he was hiding under and continues to laugh.

It warms Lucerys’ heart in a way. Aemond doesn’t often laugh this openly. He often smirks mildly amused. Only since they have been together in secret, Lucerys has had the privilege of seeing a real and wide smile upon his uncle’s face at least a few times.

But unfortunately he can not share Aemond’s amusement at their current situation.

“My mother thinks you want to kill me!” He tries to make the situation clear to his lover who only laughs harder.

Frustrated he throws the shirt as hard as possible at Aemond, who of course catches it with ease.

Sighing Lucerys throws his hands up in the air and turns around to stomp to his closet in search of a jacket and shoes. He needs to go and present himself to his family before another one of them could get the idea of visiting him in his quarters.

“Oh come on Lucerys” Aemond says, his laughter fading away. Lucerys turns around to see his uncle still grinning at him widely.

He rolls his eyes and turns back around away from his uncle who doesn’t seem to grasp the weight of the situation.

Lucerys hears a sigh and footsteps. Aemond has stood up from the bed and walks towards him, but he pretends to be busy searching through his clothes and doesn’t turn around.

Then he can feel his uncle’s breath on his neck and two big hands that settle on his hips before engulfing him in an embrace.

Before Lucerys can protest further, his body automatically relaxes. He lets out a deep sigh and leans back, tilting his head towards Aemond.

His uncle takes that as an invitation to place feather light kisses on his neck. Another content sigh leaves his lips. Lucerys can not imagine that there will ever be a day where he will not respond with anything other than pure contentment to Aemond’s touch. His uncle has utterly ruined him for anyone but himself.

“I’m sorry that this has upset you so much” Aemond whispers in his ear.

Lucerys takes a deep breath and tries to ignore the knot of worries that lies heavy in his stomach. He can’t.

“I just…” he tries and fails to explain. He lets out a frustrated huff.

Gently, as if he was holding a dandelion whose petals could be whisked away with a soft breeze, Aemond turns Lucerys around so that they face each other.

“Skoros amīvindis ao sīr, issa jorrāelagon?” (What worries you so, my love?) Aemond asks tenderly as he soothingly runs his fingers along Lucerys’ back.

Lucerys can not seem to bring up the courage to look Aemond in the eye.

“Kessa gaomilza dōrī ilvo indīgon” (She will never allow us to marry) he mumbles.

The look on Aemond’s face grows impossible tender. It is if possible the thing that surprised Lucerys the most. Aemond’s tenderness. He had assumed that Aemond would be all sharp angles and bruising touches and kisses with more teeth than tongue. Lucerys had been entirely caught off guard when Aemond had been actually reluctant to touch him at all at the beginning.

Aemond had confessed to him one day, long after they had fallen into bed with each other, that he simply did not know how to touch without hurting, how to hold without bruising. The affection Lucerys had received all his life was something entirely strange to Aemond. Which was why every time he got to hold his nephew he looked at him like he was a marvel.

And then there had been the dreams. Aemond says that he does not have them any longer but there had been a time when he would wake up screaming alone in his chambers from visions of Lucerys dying by his hands. Lucerys dying in fire, between Vhagar’s teeth, falling from Arrax and breaking every bone in his body and drowning in the Narrow Sea.

Aemond says he believes that maybe, in another life, where he would have not come to love Lucerys, he would have been consumed by anger and vengeance. It had frightened Lucerys for but a moment before he simply answered “I do not believe there is a world where you would be capable of being a kinslayer. And I refuse to believe there is a world where we would not love each other.”

The dreams had stopped after that.

Now Aemond confidently holds Lucerys every time he wants. He caresses him delicately and treasures it. Aemond drowns his nephew in gifts, saying he would like to properly court him. There is only the problem of their family. Lucerys knows his mother would never allow them to be married, not when she truly thinks Aemond still wants him harm for what had occurred in their childhood. She doesn’t know that by now Lucerys has thoroughly apologised for that incident.

Aemond leans forward to rest his forehead against Lucerys’ and together they breathe in each other’s air, their lips ghosting over each other. Lucerys feels his uncle’s words more than he hears them.

“My offer still stands, issa jorrāelagon (my love)” he whispers and Lucerys shudders at the thought as his uncle continues “Zaldrīzdōron ivestrās avo maghās se valzȳrys aōhys sagon aōt sahās. (Let me take you to Dragonstone and make you my husband.)”

From the first time Aemond had proposed the idea of simply running away and getting married without their family’s notice Lucerys had thought about it. Had thought about the excitement of running away, of the prospect of being wedded to the man he loves. Still, his reason to not do it stays the same.

“I want my mother’s blessing, Qȳbor (Uncle)” he sighs and cups Aemond’s face in his hands “I want my mother to be the one to give me to you. I want all of our family to see our love. I do not want to have to hide and run away in a cloak-and-dagger operation.”

Tilting his head Aemond presses a soft kiss to the inside of Lucerys’ wrist.

“Your mother did the exact same with her uncle” he grumbles, but with no real ill will “It’s not like she could hold it against us.”

Lucerys can’t help but giggle a bit at his lover’s grumpiness in such a tender moment.

“Well” he says and fiddles with a strand of Aemond’s soft and long hair “You will have to have a bit more patience, Qȳbor”

Then he mournfully wriggles himself out of his uncle’s embrace to finally go search for proper clothing.

“And also more manners. Or else my mother will have you send away for looking at me like…” Lucerys tries to find the right words whilst his ear’s turn a bright red. He looks over to Aemond who looks at him with a cocked eyebrow and a smirk.

“Like I want to eat you?” His uncle kindly finishes his sentence and Lucerys turns back to his clothes.

“Not in the way she thinks” he mumbles while digging through his closet and hears Aemond chuckle. The bastard really has good ears.

“Well then” his uncle says while walking through the room and to the door “I presume I will see you at the luncheon later?” He turns around with another smirk and adds “And I promise I will not try to eat you.”

Lucerys’ only response is a pair of trousers which he throws into Aemond’s face who flees the room with another chuckle.

Sighing Lucerys’ leans his head against the wooden door of his wardrobe. He feels so hot with giddiness and love he feels like he is about to burst.

“Soon” he whispers only to himself and every God, old or new, that might hear the vow he whispers with a smile “We will marry soon.”

#lucemond #hotd #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #lucerys velaryon #lucerys x aemond #fanfic #fanficiton #ao3 #rhaenyra targaryen #cross posted on ao3 #secret lovers #fluff #humour

209 notes · View notes

myrtlesandasphodels · 1 year ago

Text

I can't believe Jason missed the opportunity to respond with: "Golden ones, Your Grace."

He really is the inept twin.

#jason lannister #viserys targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd humour #goofiness

39 notes · View notes

leonanette · 10 months ago

Text

‘How Vermax Won His Wager’ is now complete!

Find out how the biggest troll in the Valyrian pantheon swindled the greens and (sort of) got away with it!

I’ll be back posting new chapters of ‘The Man in the Pearl Mask’ on a weekly basis tomorrow.

#my fanfiction #the man in the pearl mask #house of the dragon #asoiaf #Vermax #Vermax the Valyrian God #aemond targaryen #criston cole #alicent hightower #ormund hightower #aegon ii targaryen #humour #fix it #Syrax #Syrax the Valyrian God #Gaelithox #Vhagar #Vhagar the Valyrian God

3 notes · View notes

nemonclature · 9 months ago

Text

"You love your children. It's your one redeeming quality. That and your cheekbones."

#this is what hotd is missing!#humour!#fucking comedy #bring me the drama #bring me the murder #bring me aemond's sexy fucking face #but please god can you br #ing me one fucking joke #house of the dragon #game of thrones #tyrion lannister

2 notes · View notes

writerofweird · 10 months ago

Text

The Monster and the Ghost's Daughter

This story follows on from The Monster and the Ghost’s Adventure contains references to death and abuse. In the old, dusty house that sits in the middle of a forest, among dead trees and thorns, one would not only be greeted with hallways that seem to stretch into eternity, paintings of people who seem to flinch as soon as you pass them, and doors that seem to lock and unlock themselves, but if…

View On WordPress

#dragon #dragons #ghost #ghosts #haunted #haunted house #haunted houses #humor #humour #monster #monsters #skeleton #skeletons #Stories #story #writing

2 notes · View notes

councilofcastamere · 2 months ago

Text

WINTER NIGHTS | CREGAN STARK X TARG!READER ꧂

a b r i d g e m e n t : With tensions rising, your elder half-sister Rhaenyra arranges for you to seek asylum in the freezing land of the North. And fortunately for you, Cregan is there to show you how Northmen operate.

TW: penetration, loss of virginity, breeding kink, mentions gender roles but in a sexy way, sexual tension, sibling jealousy, childhood neglect, mentions of death by birth, shitty character development

A/N: I know the girly portrayed is Visenya but her body is tea in this so maybe I do know best…

The second daughter. The oh-so passed over maiden. Not belonging to anything, nor belonging to nothing. Not the first, and not the last. An ever enduring memory to a passed over era. Nothing significant. Never anything significant.

That’s what you were. Insignificance. A beautiful insignificance, if you could see beauty in tragedy. Beauty in all the ways of life. All the little horrible things that make up a big, beautiful, picture. People shan’t look close, you’d assure yourself.

But you were you. Born to the everlasting way of royal life. To the peaceful Viserys, and his second wife, a woman whose name is not all that important. Another maiden from a noble house that perished to childbirth. Lost her life, giving life.

And as it did not to many maidens, the Gods did not grant you the chance to grow up with your mother. The blood that dripped down her thighs had covered you from head to toe as you came into existence, and she had naught of you in her arms before a deep and long slumber overcame her. The stranger had come for her, and he did not slow down on its way. He’d taken her as quick as she’d given you to the world. A quick exchange, you’d suppose.

Now and then you think about her. What she might have looked like, what she might have liked, what she might have been had she survived the wretched burden of your existence. You’d often wonder if infants who survived childbirth ever felt as deep a burden as she did. To have your very first breath of life tainted with the death of an innocent. Tainted with tragedy.

Growing up in King’s Landing hadn’t been all that as it sounded. You’d never really been that happy, as ungracious as it sounded.

You had an older sister - Rhaenyra - who’d occasionally humoured you. You’d never seen much of her, really. Perhaps it was your own fault as well. For not actively seeking her out. For not being the younger sister one was supposed to be. Some people - as close to you as they may be - are just unattainable in your mind. Your kin aren’t your kin until you allow it.

You have better companions than her, you figured. You had your lady-in-waitings. Lady Vievenne of house Swann. Lady Laycie of house Oldflowers. Lady Claere of house Ambrose. Lady Evelyne of house Hightower, who was, by all accounts, a gift from your newest stepmother, Alicent of the house Hightower.

What you also had was younger siblings. Such as Aegon. Though he is naught but a skirt enthusiast, swimming along the sea of young maidens at his whim. But he cares not whether they are, does he?

And oh, do not get yourself started on the one-eyed prince and that smug little smile on his sharp-featured face. Nonetheless, he was gentle. Oh so gentle with his touch. And oh so sinister in the way that made you feel important enough to be in his good graces.

However, you chose to distance yourself from all parties involved as fate made it clear what it had in store. A great slap to the great Targaryen dynasty. A dark cloud looming over the already curse-clad clan.

For even you knew that the only thing that could tear down the House of the Dragon, was itself.

“Sister.” you greeted one late evening, having taken flight to Dragonstone on your she-dragon, Starfyre. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

“…y/n.” the elder sister called out, a small smile on her lips. “I… am glad for your visit.”

“…I’m certain you are,” you say, trying with all your might to contain a frown.

You eyed her awkwardly as she wiped her sweaty hands off her dress, letting out a sigh as the elder royal wasn’t quite certain how to approach the topic.

“I… understand… things quite haven’t been… that active, in our kinship,” Rhaenyra speaks up, taking a step closer. “And for that, I apologise.”

You could only nod, a small smile gracing your lips at the heartwarming confession of absent love.

“I apologise, also.” you smiled, your hands finding each other behind your back. “I suppose I should have been the one to seek your company and counsel as well.”

“Good.” Rhaenyra smiled awkwardly, a silence engulfing the echo-ridden chambers. “The reason, as to why I called you, might be surprising.”

You froze slightly, heart pounding as the possibilities of implications travelled through your mind. The goosebumps on your arms grew more prominent as a cold breeze passed through.

“Oh?” you answered, cocking a brow. “And what might that be, sister?”

“I ask of you to travel to the North,” Rhaenyra admits, a tone of seriousness overshadowing the warm moment. “I have already sent a raven to Lord Cregan Stark, and he has agreed to host you. If it pleases you, of course.”

No answer came out of your lips, save for your a mere breath. You felt a pang in your heart, consuming your every emotion, making certain you cannot detect how you feel about the news.

A dragon in the north? What a jest. You’d do better in Dorne, surrounded by sun-kissed squires and stable boys than laddish lordlings and Northern butchers.

“And… why should I?” you asked, respect in your tone. “Pardon me, my sister, but why have you made this decision for me?”

“Tensions are rising, y/n. You know that as well as I do.” Rhaenyra sighs, her body language giving up on its tense posture. “And I am aware of your… complex feelings on it. But to the North you must. I’m sending Rhaena to the Va-”

“Yes, because Rhaena gets to be hosted by a relative of yours, in safety. Meanwhile you sent me off to some Northern stranger!”

“Y/n.” Rhaenyra warned, raising a brow. She took a step closer as you composed your words. “You are my sister, and I will have you safe in the North. The Northmen are honourable men, and in time you’ll know.”

✫彡

And so you were, clad in thick fur, lady Vivenne and lady Evelyne at both sides of yourself. Across from you sat three servants, and somewhere else sat your sworn shield.

“It will be splendid.” Evelyne beamed, properly adjusting her hair, tied up in a bun, similar to the ones the older maidens wear. “We shall meet every dusk, and speak about our day. In front of the fire.”

“Not if I can help it.” you sighed softly. “Apologies, my ladies, but I’ll let you two get at it. I’d love to explore the North in solitude.”

“Right…” Vivenne nodded, looking through the small peep holes as the carriage slowed down, just outside the gates of Winterfell. “We’ve arrived, I suppose. You’ll have to greet Lord Stark. If he’s anything we’ve heard of and more, I wish you luck.”

You only nodded, watching as your ladies exited the carriage, standing at the side of the door. Their faces are cast down, as if in mourning. Perhaps they’re mourning the life of luxury provided at King’s Landing.

You could not blame them for it, really. From growing up in their own house, to growing up in the Royal house, to trade it again to live to see the snowy winters of Winterfell.

You shook slightly, the cold air hitting your face in an instant as you slightly lifted your dress, taking a step out of the three provided for the carriage.

You looked ahead of you, eyes locking on the noblemen and women, standing straight and proud. The women bore clothes of low quality, so obviously sewn to fit any class. The men wore dark furs, contrasting to the blue clothing of the opposite sex.

And in the midst of it, stood Cregan Stark, accompanied by a mere little boy of just two years of age. Your eyes locked upon his stormy-grey ones, his face etched into a stern expression, eyes focused on yours.

You maintained the eye contact, taking each step closer to him.

“Princess Y/N.” Cregan greeted formally, taking your soft hand in his. “Welcome to Winterfell. I am Lord Cregan Stark.”

“Thank you, Lord Stark.” you smile, curtsying in a fashionable manner. Your eyes stood glued on his as his lips brushed against the palm of your hand. “I’m truly honoured to be here.”

“…I’m certain you are.” Cregan answered, eyeing you skeptically.

Hearing false compliments wasn’t out of the ordinary for the wolf of Winterfell. He knew well enough that you weren’t suited for the North. You were a Southern lady, used to the life of feasts, luxury, and sparkly dresses.

“Let us go inside, shall we?” you smiled charmingly, looking up at the tall castle with dread in your eyes.

“Aye, so we shall.” Cregan nodded, his broad shoulders most notable as he sauntered into the opened gates.

✫彡

The first night went unfamiliar to you, the harsh blows of the cold weather creating a prominent presence looming over the already melancholic times.

You sat in your chambers, sitting at the stony window sill as you watched Cregan from above.

The lord was overlooking young squires on the courtyard, engaged in conversation with the knight in charge of guiding the young to-be-knights.

All dressed in fur, shoulders looking as if they were padded. Cregan’s hair was tied up, with two front strands escaping and hanging loose. His grey-blue eyes stood glued at watching the young squire’s techniques, and you could only sigh as you got lost in his appearance.

Ever since stepping foot into the North of Westeros, you’d developed a strange sense of interest in the beauty of Northern men. How they all dressed so grimly, but intimidating. How they’re oh-so honourable and hard working. How they always seemed so clean shaven but rugged all at once.

And you could not help but wonder what it would be like had you wedded one of them.

Being completely honest, you’d never really been the sort of maiden to stay inside of her chambers, waiting for her husband to return from his duty, deprived of affection.

With any Southern lord, being a doting unappreciated wife would never cross your mind.

But with Northern men, however, you had the feeling your efforts wouldn’t go unnoticed.

Before you could continue your vulgarly confusing thoughts, you saw Cregan’s eyes shift to yours, finding your gaze.

You could only lean against the window, a hand on the stony side as you gazed back at him. Your hair was loose, and you were dressed in your creamy beige nightdress.

You held his gaze for a moment, until ultimately turning away, leaving the implications of that gaze to his imagination.

✫彡

By the third day, you’d been reading in the old library belonging to House Stark. You’d sat on a plush seat, the dusty book on your lap as your gentle fingers flipped through the pages.

But you weren’t alone.

Cregan Stark sat near you, his knees in almost touching proximity to yours.

“Aye, the North is cold, but it’s honest.” he tells you, gently shutting his own book. “The snow doesn’t lie about its intention. No courtly games like they play in the South.”

“Oh, please.” you smiled, shutting your book as well. your body shifted so it was facing his, resting your head on one hand. “The courtly games are what makes it so fun.”

“Now, riddle me this.” You smiled, noting his full attention on you. His body language exuded calmness, and you felt secure in the knowledge that his comfort lies with you. “How do you not like courtly games? Personally, it makes my life all the more amusing.”

“I suppose it’s all jesting for you, princess.” Cregan said, his eyes resting on yours. “Amusement or not, I’d rather know where I stand…”

“With you, however…” His eyes trailed down to your bare shoulder, the white nightdress you’re wearing very much a sight of sore eyes. “I think I know.”

“Oh, do you?” you teased, cocking a brow. “And how so, pray tell?”

“Well…” he grunted, shifting in his seat to tighten the proximity around you two. “You’d do well not to cross any Northern man. They don’t take well to… courtly games.”

You only smiled at that, your upper body instinctively leaning in, albeit torturously slow.

“And, uh, suppose I… marry a Northern lord.” you teased quite coquettishly, a hand moving to rest on the thick fur coating his body. “What am I in for.”

You watched as his smirk only widened, gently taking the hand that rested on his fur, and taking it in his.

“Marry a Northern lord like me, and have your nights warmed under the thick fur of blankets.” he says, his thumb rubbing against your knuckles. “Northern loyalty runs deep, princess. That’s what you’d be in for.”

You nodded slowly, and you could not help but notice those coloured eyes of his descending onto your perky breasts.

Great, this was all going well so far. “I’d imagine… do you think he’d gift me a pup? I’ve always wanted a tiny pet, to keep.”

“Yeah?” The lord licked his lips, a hand resting on your waist. “You think you’d handle a wolf properly?”

“Well, I would.” you smiled, nodding in agreement. “I’m a dragon… and dragons do not surrender that easily.”

You smiled, shifting in your seat again as Cregan amusedly indulged you in your silly thoughts. “Just imagine it, my lord. I’d be holding that pup every night trying to get it to warm to me.”

Your hand slowly, but surely, trickled down to his clothed thigh, trying to maintain a sense of quiet intimacy.

“You’ll have your work cut out for you, then.” his voice lowered, bordering on husky. “Wolves aren’t so easily tamed, not even by someone with…”

He paused for a moment, a hand gently taking the one you placed on his thigh.

“…your charms.”

You’d have a cheeky comeback on the tip of your tongue, had it not been for Cregan’s lips descending upon yours, clashing together like Blackwoods and Brackens.

You let out a soft breath as you eased into the kiss, feeling his large hands grip your waists as if his life depended on it.

Your hands moved from his shoulders, to his neck, and then to his armoured chest. The armour he carried felt cold to your hands, yet it made it all the more sinful.

“Did you have this in mind?” you murmured against his lips, tongue circling his as you so sloppily attempted to kiss him. “Seducing me?”

The silence engulfed you two for a moment, only being overshadowed by the sound of soft breaths.

“You have it wrong, princess.” he breathed, firmly planting you upon his lap, your back pressing against his chest. “Do you take me for a halfwit?”

You smiled, looking over your shoulder as you attempted to chase his lips with yours again.

“No, but I certainly did not take you for a man so easily seduced.” you teased, guiding his hands to your clothed breasts. “You don’t seem the type to give in that easily.”

“Because it’s untrue.” he spoke up, lips brushing to against your neck. “But do you honestly think nothing would be done about the way you saunter around, looking as you do?”

His hands slowly tugged against your nightdress, pressing a hard kiss to your achy jaw before pulling away.

“Lay yourself down on the carpet.” he commanded, hands shifting to peel off his fur coat, along with his armour and tunic.

All you could do was nod and watch on as his armour went discarded on the floor, the metal material cranking against the stone ground.

His bare chest was now visible, the defining abs illuminated by the glowing fire. His hair messed up when he threw his tunic over his head.

“Cregan, I-"

And in one moment, you felt his large body overshadow yours, clashing lips again. Cregan lifted his body as to not crush you, hands on either side of your head.

You only permitted yourself to breathe unevenly, stead of moan. Your hands found his shoulders, desiring to pull him closer than possible.

“Ever since you’ve arrived you’d been nothing but trouble.” Cregan murmured, lips finding your throat. “Sauntering around with your ladies, endlessly teasing me.”

Your legs only shifted to wrap around his waist, back slowly arching at the kisses.

He took notice, and let one of his hands pin you down, lips descending towards your perky breasts.

“Gods, you’re wrong for this.” he grunted, swirling his tongue around the nipple. “For provoking me, as you did yesterday, and the day before that.”

“For thinking you have the authority to do this to a lord.” he breathed, your small breast fitting into his large palm.

“For…” he continued, kissing down your stomach, before ultimately glancing back at you “…thinking you’d get away with this.”

“I did not think I’d get away with this.” you tease, watching as he moves face-to-face again. “Which is why I did it.”

Your hands find his muscled arms, squeezing it gently. “I want to know how Northern men do it.”

You’d think you were jesting, but were you truly?

You’d have opened your mouth to say anything else, looking up at him, if it weren’t for the Northern lord himself roughly flipping you to your stomach.

“You wish to know, my princess?” he murmurs, unlatching his breeches. “You’d have your first time be with a Northman?”

You nodded, cheek resting on the carpet fabric without surrender. “Yes. Gods yes.”

He hiked your skirt around your waist, your plump ass visible to his peering eyes.

“You’ll be ruined for other men, aye.” He grunted, his hand wrapping around his rock hard cock.

“That’s good, because I desire no one save you.” you smiled, allowing him to lift your hips up and arch your back.

“Yeah?” he smirked, the tip of his cock rubbing against your damp hole. “You’ll have me make you my wife?”

You nodded, impatiently moving your hips. “I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”

“You’d be a good wife, wouldn’t you?” he grunted once again, head finally pushing into your unloosened clit. “No Southern games, no poignant looks of yours.”

“You like that about me.” you painfully breathed, feeling the uncomfortable ache of his cock in your newly penetrated cunt.

His head descended, placing gentle kisses upon your shoulders. “A maiden. Perhaps you aren’t as well-equipped to handle a wolf as you said you were.”

“I am.” you protested, pushing your hips back. “Move your hips. I wish to prove myself.”

He only speeded up his thrusts, and as you allowed the moans to fill your lips, his hands found a way to push your head down.

“You’d carry my pups?” he asked, thrusting into you aggressively, pumping his cock in and out. “Wait on my cock every night?”

You only moaned incredulously, asscheeks clapping along with every snap of his hips.

“Yes.” you breathed, gasp and claps filling the room. “Fuck, put a babe inside of me. I want your children.”

“We’ll have to wed sooner, before the babe gets born in wedlock.” he grunted, hands gripping your hips, pushing you back onto his thick length. “But that’s what you wanted all along, was it?”

You gripped the fabric of the carpet, cheeks burning as it rubbed against the irritating carpet.

“For a thick cock such as this.” he teased, tugging at your hair.

“Yes.” you moaned pathetically, cheeks flushed as you felt a knot forming into your stomach.

Your lips parted, your eyes rolling above-ways.

“Yes, yes!” you moaned loudly, feeling his hands grope your breasts. “Fuck, you’re moving fast.”

“Never fast enough.” he murmurs, member sliding against your wet slit.

He could feel your tight walls clenching around him, milking his cock for all it is worth. His grip on you tightened as he thrust down to meet your upward motion.

And with one sharp thrusts, you felt the knot loosen and the cream dripping out your twitching clit.

Yet, he didn’t stop, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he rode you through your orgasm.

The feeling of your walls clenching around his cock was enough to send him reeling as well, burying himself deep inside of you.

Hot spurts of cum dripping out of your hole, you completely got yourself spent, closing your eyes and deciding you could just fall asleep on this carpet.

“No sleeping in the library.” he scolded lightly, putting on his fur coat, covering his naked physique. “Come here.”

You exhaustedly crawled over to him again, and snuck yourself into his coat, the clothing covering both of your naked bodies.

“I’m taking you to your chambers.” he sighs, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “And for the next time, do not attempt to get so exhausted. I went easy on you this time.”

1K notes · View notes

idkyetxoxo · 15 days ago

Text

Daemon Targaryen - A Love Unraveled

Summary - A celebrated love story now shattered by betrayal, Daemon begs for forgiveness, but his beloved faces the crushing reality of his infidelity. As their once-great bond crumbles, they confront the devastating cost of love and loyalty.

Pairing - Daemon Targaryen x reader

Warnings - None

Word count - 2046

Masterlist for Daemon • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

Daemon Targaryen and I were renowned throughout the realm for our epic love story, a tale so grand it was sung by bards in every corner of Westeros.

The Rogue Prince, the feared and untamable, had found his match, the one woman who could soften his ruthless edges and share his life. The realm believed in our love, seeing it as a rare and powerful bond.

Yet it was all a lie. Fate has a cruel way of weaving illusions, only to shatter them without mercy.

Now, Daemon knelt before me, his once proud and defiant form crumpled in humility. I couldn't help but recall the nights we spent beneath the stars, whispering promises that now seemed as distant as the constellations.

I stood there, heartbroken and shattered, unable to reconcile the man before me with the one I had loved so deeply.

"Please, it was a mistake," he repeated, his voice desperate, as if saying it enough times could undo the damage.

I sniffed, trying in vain to wipe away the relentless stream of tears. "No, it was not," I said, my voice breaking under the weight of my pain.

"It was," he insisted, his eyes wide with desperation. "I swear to you, it will never happen again."

"I do not trust you," I responded, my words cutting through the air like a knife.

Daemon stood his hands reaching for mine, trembling, but I pulled them away as if his touch burned me. The pain in his eyes was unbearable.

"I warned you," I continued, my voice trembling with the weight of the broken promises that now lay between us. "I told you what would happen if you ever took another woman into your bed. I made it clear, Daemon. I made it so clear."

He stared at me, his expression one of shock and disbelief as if he couldn't comprehend the reality of the situation. The silence between us was suffocating, a heavy void that echoed with the truth of his betrayal.

Finally, he spoke, his voice cracking under the weight of his guilt.

"She meant nothing," he pleaded, the words rushed and desperate. "It was a mistake—a foolish, meaningless mistake. She meant nothing to me, I swear it."

I laughed, but there was no humour in it, only a bitter edge that cut deeper than any sword. "She meant nothing?" I repeated, the words tasting like ash on my tongue.

"Then why, Daemon? If she meant nothing, if it was so meaningless, why do it? What was the point? Why throw away everything we had for nothing?"

He flinched at my words as if they were physical blows, but I pressed on, my voice growing steadier as my anger took hold.

"You shattered my trust, Daemon. You destroyed what we had, and for what? A moment of weakness? A fleeting pleasure that meant nothing to you? Do you even realize what you've done?"

"You have to let me go now," I murmured, my voice shaking as I took a step back, my heart breaking with every inch of distance I put between us.

"No," he cried, shaking his head violently as if denying the reality of the situation could somehow change it.

"You lost me the moment you decided that 'nothing' was worth more than everything we had," I whispered, the words carrying the finality of a death knell.

His hands grasped my arms with a desperation I had never seen in him before, his grip tight as though he could keep me from slipping away by sheer force of will. "Please, no. You cannot do this"

"Daemon, I have loved you endlessly," I said, my voice thick with emotion, the weight of all our years together pressing down on me. "But it wasn't enough, was it?"

The question hung in the air, a cruel echo of all the doubts and fears I had buried deep inside.

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. His eyes, usually so full of fire and defiance, were now empty, filled with despair that mirrored my own.

"I could sacrifice my flesh for you but still be considered selfish for not offering my bones. " I whispered, tears welling up in my eyes, blurring the sight of his face.

"What more can I give, Daemon? What more do you want from me?"

He fell to his knees before me once again, his head bowed, his hands clutching at the hem of my dress as though he could anchor himself to me, prevent the inevitable.

"I was a fool," he choked out, his voice raw with anguish.

"I didn't mean to hurt you. It was a moment of weakness, a mistake. Please, I beg you. Don't leave me. Don't take your love away from me."

His words broke something inside me, and the tears I had been holding back came rushing forth once more, a flood of sorrow and despair.

"You've already taken everything from me," I sobbed, my voice cracking under the weight of my pain. "My trust, my love, my heart, what is left for me to give? What is left of me?"

He raised his head, his face streaked with tears, his eyes filled with a desperation that was almost unbearable to witness.

"I will do anything," he vowed, his voice trembling. "I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you. I will never stray again. Please, just give me one more chance. Let me prove to you that I can be the man you deserve."

His pleas fell on deaf ears. The trust that had been shattered between us could not be pieced back together, no matter how much he begged or how many promises he made.

"I can't," I whispered, shaking my head as I took another step back, pulling away from his grasp.

"I can't do this anymore. I can't keep forgiving you, keep sacrificing pieces of myself for a love that only brings me pain."

"No," he moaned, his voice breaking as he clung to me, his tears mingling with mine. "Please, don't leave me. I need you. I love you."

"And I loved you," I replied, my voice barely a whisper as I looked down at him, my heart shattering into a thousand pieces. "But love isn't supposed to feel like this. Love isn't supposed to destroy you."

His grip on me loosened, his hands falling to his sides as he looked up at me, defeated, broken.

"What can I do?" he whispered, his voice hollow, as though all the life had drained out of him. "Tell me what to do, and I will do it. I will do anything to keep you."

There was nothing he could do. The damage had been done, and no amount of pleading could change that.

"Let me go," I said, my voice trembling with the finality of my decision. "Please, Daemon. Let me go."

He stared at me for a long moment, his eyes filled with a pain that mirrored my own and then, slowly, reluctantly, he released his hold on me, his hands falling to his lap as he knelt there, broken and defeated.

I turned away, the sight of him like this too much to bear. Each step I took felt like a knife twisting deeper into my chest, as though I was leaving behind a piece of myself with every inch that separated us.

The weight of my sorrow threatened to crush me, but I kept moving, knowing that to stop would mean giving in to the agony that had consumed us both.

As I walked away, a voice rang out, sharp and commanding.

"Ser Barristan!" Daemon's voice, once so full of love, now dripped with desperation. I froze, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Seize her," he ordered, and I whipped around, disbelief and heartbreak etched across my face.

I saw Ser Barristan hesitate, the knight's eyes flickering with uncertainty before duty took over. He approached me, his strong arms reaching out to hold me back.

"No, Daemon, please!" I cried out, struggling against the iron grip of the knight.

Panic surged through me as I fought against the restraint, my heart breaking anew with every passing second. "Don't do this! You can't keep me with you by force!"

My voice was a mix of rage and despair, but Daemon only looked at me, his eyes filled with a wild, desperate resolve. He finally stood, striding toward me with an intensity that made my breath catch in my throat.

In a single motion, he cupped my face in his hands, his grip firm yet trembling as I squirmed in Ser Barristan's hold.

"I am not going to," he said, his voice hoarse, as if the words were being torn from his very soul. "I just want you to see reason."

His words, so painfully desperate, almost made me laugh for the sheer absurdity of it.

Reason? After everything that had happened, after all the trust that had been shattered and the love that had been betrayed, he still thought there was a way to salvage what was left.

"You think this is reason?" I spat out, my voice laced with both sorrow and fury.

"You think holding me here, forcing me to stay, will change anything? This isn't love, Daemon! It's a twisted, broken thing that you're trying to save, and it's already gone. You have to let it go!"

He stared at me, his eyes filled with a torment that mirrored my own, but beneath that, I could see the flicker of a man grasping at the last threads of something he knew he had already lost.

His hands, once so sure and commanding, trembled against my skin, and for a brief moment, I saw the shadow of the man I had once loved. But that man was gone, consumed by his own mistakes and the wounds he had inflicted on us both.

"I can't lose you," he whispered, his voice breaking, and in that moment, I knew he was beyond saving, beyond reason.

"You already have," I whispered, the truth slipping from my lips like a death sentence.

The fight drained out of me, leaving only a hollow emptiness. "You lost me the moment you betrayed me, and no amount of force or pleading can bring me back."

He shook his head violently, his eyes wide with denial, tears spilling over as if he could physically reject the truth of my words.

"No, no, no," he muttered, his voice a broken chant, as if repeating the word could somehow make it true. "You can't say that. You don't mean it. I'll change, I'll be better—I'll do anything! Please, just stay!"

His desperation had driven him to a place where logic and love could no longer reach him, where only his fear of losing me remained, twisting him into something unrecognizable.

Tears welled up in his eyes, and he closed them as if trying to block out the reality of what was happening as if he could will away the truth of my words by sheer force of denial.

Slowly, painfully, his hands fell away from my face, and for the first time, I saw the depth of his defeat, the utter brokenness of a man who had finally realized the full cost of his actions.

Ser Barristan, sensing the shift, released his hold on me, and I stepped back, my heart aching with every inch of distance that grew between us. Every part of me wanted to run back, to reach out and pull him from the brink, but I knew I couldn't. Not anymore.

The man I had loved was lost to the chaos of his own making, and there was no saving him from it.

Without another word, I turned away, my steps heavy with the weight of what I was leaving behind.

I could hear him call out my name one last time, his voice filled with raw, desperate agony, the sound of a man who had finally realized the true cost of his betrayal. It echoed through the hall, a haunting reminder of the love that had once been, and the pain that now lay in its place.

It was too late.

The damage had been done, and all that was left was the cold, empty space where our love had once flourished, now reduced to ashes and memories, forever beyond repair.

A/n - Sorry I was in a silly goofy mood, writing doomed love stories is cheaper than therapy!

#house of the dragon #house targaryen #hotd #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #hotd one shot #hotd season 2 #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd fanfic #team black #daemon targaryen #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #hotd daemon #prince daemon targaryen #the rouge prince #daemon targeryan

475 notes · View notes

sadaf-e-mohabbat · 3 months ago

Note

Hello everyone

I am Nour from Gaza

.I need your help if you can

Please donate to save my life and the lives of my children

I'm asking for a small donation of $25 from each person. $35 will save my children from death and help me cover expenses and rebuild.

Through the link (please see my CV) https://www.gofundme.com/f/donate-to-help-nour-and-his-family-escape-the-war-in-gaza

My account has been verified by @90-ghost

Will share it as much as I can, Allah S.W.T will surely find a way for u and ur family....you all are in my prayers..

0 notes

bee-the-loser-recs · 3 months ago

Text

~~~☼ My Haechan One-shot Fic Recs ☼~~

𖤓 Drippin' By @ncteez 16.2k, NCT Dream 00' line x reader, non-specified au, close friends, birthday sex, smut, technically polyamorous, messy, slight fluff, comedy, teasing

𖤓 Send in the clowns By @smileysuh 10.6k, Haechan|Mark|Jaehyun x reader, college au, frat boys NCT, best friend Jungwoo, friends to lovers, karaoke friends, smut, polyamory, slight fluff, Halloween parties, dressing up

𖤓 Roommates By @smileysuh 8.3k, Mark x reader x Haechan, college au, frat house NCT, best friend Jungwoo, polyamory, smut, stoners, getting high together, slight fluff, mentions of Jeno having a crush on reader

𖤓 The V week spy By @smileysuh 20.1k, Jaehyun x reader (romantic) ft. Haechan | Yangyang | Jungwoo | Jeno, college au, frat house NCT, sorority member reader, stupid traditions, no strings attached situation, smut, slight fluff

𖤓 Energizer bunny By @smileysuh 19.1k, hybrid au, bunny reader, dragon Haechan, bartender reader, club owner Haechan, boss x employee relationship, genuine interest between the two, smut, slight fluff, Mark is reader's brother

𖤓 Carpe diem By @kiachiako 5.1k, college au, gamer!Haechan, coder!reader, mutual friends, slight fuckboy Haechan, genuine feelings for one another, fluff, angst

𖤓 Indica dreams By @hazyhae 11.7k, unspecified au, non-idol au, plug Haechan, reader gets high for the first time, one bad experience on edibles, fluff, slight angst, smut, best friend Jeno, reader has problems sleeping

𖤓 Us By @hazyhae 900, stoner!best friend!Haechan, high conversations together, confessions when high, mutual pining, anxieties about the future

𖤓 Cold By @rainbowhao 0.5k, established relationship, fluff, cuddling in their apartment, bribery, temperature being rather cold, clingy Haechan

𖤓 Sugar, butter & the royal crown By @haechwrites 17.1k, royal au, prince Donghyuck, baker's daughter reader, fluff, slight angst, unsupportive mother, pining, forbidden relationship, reconnecting after multiple years, pet names

𖤓 Sucks to be him By @loudstan Magic au, werewolf Haechan, witch reader, fluff, imprinting, slight angst, reader has a boyfriend at first, Haechan refuses to give up, reader is slightly older and owns a store

𖤓 Triple Lee; naughtier the better By @p4p1l0nn 9.1k, Mark | Haechan | Jeno x reader, non-idol au, stoner au, plug Haechan & Mark, stoner Jeno & reader, roommates, smut, slight fluff

𖤓 NCT dream exposes y/n's crush on Haechan in the gc By @wooyukh SMAU, non-specified au, meddling friends, exposing their friend's crushes, fluff, trying to hide their feelings, confessions, cute

𖤓 Hush Hush By @domjaehyun 19.5k, Jeno|Jaemin|Haechan x reader, college au, friends to lovers??, sleepovers, smut, foursome, mentions of friends Mark & Renjun

𖤓 Surviving no nut November By @domjaehyun 28.8k, Haechan x reader x Mark, college au, friends to lovers, no nut November challenges, smut, trying to trip them up, teasing, slight fluff, weed consumption, pet names

𖤓 Pussy fiend [part 1] & [part 2] By @domjaehyun 28.2k & 40.7k, college au, enemies to fuck buddies to lovers, smut, humour, pissing each other off, cocky Haechan, denial of feelings

𖤓 Tangerine love [favourite] By @domjaehyun 21.8k, neighbours au, mutual attraction, smut, domestic behaviour between the two, fluff, light humours, mentions of a Christmas party

𖤓 Random texts with bf!Hyuck By @catboyieejeno SMAU, established relationship, menace Haechan, jealousy, suggestive comments, fluff

𖤓 Achromatopsia By @neoneversleeps 8.7k, Haechan has Achromatopsia (colour blindness), school au, meet cutes, relationship developments, fluff, angst, anger outbursts, making out

𖤓 Truth or dare By @irregular-idol-imagines 1.2k, friends to lovers, playing truth or dare, fluff, kissing on a dare, friendly teasing, alcohol

𖤓 'Manifesting Mayhem' [part 1], [part 2], & [part 3] By @suhnshinehaos SMAU, mini series, university au, mostly fluff, a little bit of angst, humour, Haechan has a crush on a classmate, reader runs a crystal shop, reader has a crush on Haechan, hidden identity

𖤓 Round & round By @hwaflms 6.1k, college au, weed use, stoners 00'line & reader, playing spin the bottle, wanting to kiss one another, bad luck, smut, slight fluff

𖤓 Hits different By @neowinestainedress 44.8k, college au, strangers to fwb to lovers, smut, angst, fluff, reader self destructs a lot, emotional support, best friend Jonny, past traumas, reasoning behind their actions, emotionally running away

𖤓 And they were roommates By @tyonfs 17k, college au, part of a one-shot series, reader is Haechan's "crushes" roommate, smut, friends to lovers, dumb Haechan, realising feelings, fluff [I suggest reading the prequel & other one-shots too, they're all so well written]

𖤓 Lucky strike By @heartseungs-archive 2.3k, arcade employee Haechan, high school au, Haechan has a crush on a reader, cute, fluff, asking them out

521 notes · View notes

raayllum · 9 days ago

Text

Sometimes it hits just how tonally different The Dragon Prince is from virtually every other kids show on TV and I lose my mind. I'd argue something like Infinity Train gets closest with its emphasis on psychological horror and morality, or even Transformers: Prime (if you know, you know) with its severe focus on war (aka one of the more lowkey episodes is a main character having a suicide bomb forcibly strapped to their chest). Steven Universe Future and Jurassic World: Camp Cretaeceous/Chaos Theory are also probably honourable mentions.

All of these shows have mature content in them, which isn't different from more popular shows like Owl House, She-Ra, or even ATLA, but often times in aforementioned three that content is presented in lighter ways and/or interrupted by bathos (this is true for She-Ra in particular). Most of TOH's heaviness is reserved for S2 Hunter or S3 Luz; ATLA has some episodes that particularly emotionally heavy (The Southern Raiders, Zuko Alone, the Southern Air Temple) or are quite hitting in exploring themes of colonization (Imprisoned, City of Walls and Secrets, Northern Air Temple), but a good deal, I'd say even the majority, are also pretty fun shenanigans, too. To be clear as well, a lighter tone is not a Problem never mind a negative (ATLA has a very strong thematic point to its own about the sanctity of children and childhood amid the horrors of how imperialism strips it away), but it is a tonal difference.

And it's not as though TDP doesn't have episodes where there are fun shenanigans (Callum and Rayla's initial exploration of Xadia in 3x02 is nothing but fluff, Soren and Corvus are a more gay comedic duo in 6x02) but the series more or less operates like "What if every episode was The Southern Raiders?" due to its consistent emphasis on grief and morality. They use words like kill and death and murder all the time.

From the pilot / opening episodes

and to when characters are having breakdowns because they murdered someone (and we're still supposed to like them) or have done horrible things, with the show's heaviness ramping up particularly from S4 onwards.

When loved ones die (and the show has a body count of 20+ named characters who have died, six seasons in, some even being children) the show depicts mourning in all its stages and ugly glory. The sadness, the anger, the revenge, the desperation, shifting blame and cognitive dissonances, thinking you had moved on only for that wound (which never fully healed) to be ripped wide open again.

Characters get tortured by being electrocuted or having their blood frozen in their veins or beaten up (5x08). There are successful assassination attempts (1x03, 3x02). People, even children younger than the main cast of characters, are put on trial with the death penalty (4x06, 6x09). Within the first three episodes, a character is running down stairs and tripping over dead bodies.

Sometimes three different characters in one episode will be having a breakdown or dealing with something absolutely devastating to their emotional state (2x08, 3x07, 6x01, 6x09, 7x01). The magic system is a trolley problem on steroids. Do you kill a monster to feed starving kingdoms, or to save yourself, or to save someone you love? What makes it a monster? What if the monster isn't a monster? What if you have to kill a child? What if it means killing your child? What if it means killing yourself?

There are two characters who canonically have cannibalized other people, one being a blood-drinker / vampire variant.

This doesn't mean the show isn't fun or funny. One character consistently thinks bathroom humour is funny (while being one of the most tragic characters in the entire show). The characters cheer each other up, take care of each other, are goofy, etc. The show is ultimately hopeful.

But the emotional weight afforded to the choices the characters are making, even good-intentioned ones with unforeseen disastrous consequences, the way show focuses on their emotional processing (or lack of) is very unique in the landscape of western animation, especially to this degree, I think. Never mind the increasing amounts of blood. Nor does this make the show inappropriate for children! Tiny me was morbid as fuck at 7 years old, I would've loved it, and I know many kids from ages 7-12 who do in my work as a tutor. But when people say "TDP isn't like most kids shows," I think what that means is sometimes lost in translation in conflating it with what people usually say aren't 'just kids shows,' when TDP... really, really isn't.

The show begins with assassins sent by a grieving mother to execute a father and his child in revenge for the father killing her partner and child, and it never lets you forget it.

#tdp #the dragon prince #mine #analysis series #sort of #text post

229 notes · View notes

fan-goddess · 8 months ago

Note

hello!could you write a reaction to the dragon's house × !fem!reader, when she was flying over the sea with the dragon and one of the enemies was on the ship and shot from a crossbow.

(she and her dragon are alive but slightly injured)

Aegon,Aemond,Jacaerys Velaryon-romantic love

Alicent,Daemon,Rhaenyra,Helaena,Laenor Valeryon-platonic love

sorry if there are any mistakes! I hope everything is clear💝I've actually been thinking about this for a long time💥

HOTD characters reactions of when reader is hurt

The summary: The characters each find out during your usual flight around kingslanding that you were shot down by some people belonging to a certain group that hate the Targaryen traditions and believe it to be an abomination.

A/N: They’re all personalised and hopefully different backstories, but have given reader the same dragon in all of them as making dragons are hard. The wound is also pretty much same, but the severity is altered in some places. In the platonic ones I made reader call them mother or father, since I made them a parent. Some of these are very different as I expanded on some more and developed others. You can tell which.

This ain’t fully proofread we die like Luke!

Taglist: @valeskafics, @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @omgbrcat @blue-serendipity @arcielee @targaryenbarbie

Warning: Wounds, various gore mentions, incest, kissing, tried to make it gender neutral and lack of descriptions but there are some scattered about! (if I miss any let me know)

Aegon Targaryen:

When Aegon heard the news from his mother who’d rushed to inform him of your sudden injury, he all but sprinted to the infirmary where you were being treated by one of the leading maesters.

“My love, are you alright?!? I am so sorry my love I should have insisted to accompany you! When I find the man who did this to you I shall rip off his head and feed his insides to Sunfyre and Shrykos!” He declares, the words tumbling quickly with how much rage flooded his body at the sight of your wounded self. You could barely keep up with him if you were being honest.

“Aegon, my sweet husband, it is fine! ‘Tis merely a flesh wound!” You insist, yet wincing as soon as the reassurance falls from your lips.

“And yet here you are heavily bleeding, and in very much pain! You should take some milk of the poppy!” Aegon says, looking around to find the bottle, even when you try and insist you were fine. “If you were fine you’d be with me, in our bed, safe and unharmed! So don’t argue with me wife or my wrath will be misguided!”

You merely humour him by sipping slightly at the small contents of the cup the maester had passed to you. Yet still, you can’t deny that the liquid had its desired effects, as your previously aching wound now significantly dulls down to a mere small throb once in a while.

“Now wife. Tell me who hurt you.” Aegon demands, his eyebrows furrowed and his grip tightened on your body as he insured you would be unable to get away from him.

“Just some idiotic men thinking themselves higher than us my love. They shot at me and Shrykos from their ship when we least expected it with bloody crossbones of all things, and somehow barely managed to skim us. Yet they somehow did not expect the very large dragon to get angry that their rider and themself was just attacked with no prior warning. Shrykos certainly made sure to enact on our lovely families motto. By the time she was done with them, there was nothing left but fire and blood sinking to the bottom of the sea.”

Aegons face slowly turns more and more relaxed, and by the end of your tale he’s practically grinning for joy as he kisses you deep on the lips. “That’s my bloodthirsty wife!” He mumbles against your lips, forgetting all about his past aggressions to make you feel as safe and as loved as you could be in his arms. The maester that continues to awkwardly stand their waiting to finish wrapping your arm be damned.

Aemond Targaryen:

He finds out before anyone else, as he tends to wait for you after your dragon rides if he’s unable to go with you that day. So when you come back later than usual with blood dripping down your arm and half an arrow sticking out of you, he certainly is very angry, and very much willing to get on Vhagar and hunt down and kill those who dared harm his wife. Yet he knows he must stay calm for you.

He notices how you try and mumble your dragons name under your breath, so when he makes it past one of the dragon keepers he makes sure to let them know that Shrykos may be in need of some healing. He assumes by the way your mumbles quieten after he says the order that that was what you were trying to tell him. Yet when he actually looks at you Aemond quickly realises you’ve actually fainted from blood loss.

Aemond rushes you to the Maesters room where he insists only the best work on you, even though he couldn’t afford to be picky what with you bleeding out in his arms and all. Though after a few threats and lot of claims regarding his dragon, the maesters quickly manage to remove the arrow and stem the bleeding whilst you continued to lay unconscious on the healing bed. Aemond stayed by your side the entire time, holding your hand tightly in an act of reassurance. Even though you were still unconscious.

He stayed with you the entire time though. Still holding your hand even when he fell asleep. When you eventually woke, three days after you were injured, Aemond was sure to reassure you that you were safe. Even though by the tenth time you were very ready to smack him.

“Tell me ābrazȳrys who did this too you. Vhagar has been ready for the taste of flesh since I found you. I am sure Shrykos too is ready for the thrill of the chase of those who harmed both her and her rider. Tell me, so I can make sure we can tear them limb from limb.” His words drip malice, and yet there is distinct comfort within them. Aemond has never truly been able to show his affection towards you with displays of anything other than action. And in this moment, it just so happens that action involves heavy bloodshed and possible carnage.

“Those men who hale from the vale. The ones claiming our traditions to be an abomination. A sin in the eyes of the seven. They surprised me and Shrykos as we flew above the seas and got some good strikes. But don’t worry ñuha jorrāelagon. Me and Shrykos made sure to burn them to blood and ash before we needed to flee back to kingslanding.” You attempt to smile to reassure your husband, but if anything it appears to make it worse as you wince at the pain suddenly flaring through your whole right arm.

Aemond stays quiet as he makes sure to force you to drink some milk of the poppy.

“Ābrazȳrys. If you were to die, I would have gone to the brink of insanity. I would’ve gone to those peoples homes and burned them all to the ground for what they have done to my wife. To the future mother of my children. They have harmed you though. The have scarred you. And for that offence alone, I cannot allow them a single more moments of breath. I cannot allow them to live.” Aemond storms off leaving you laying there in half shock and half admiration. You knew he would be true to his word. Which is why when not even a day had passed since Aemond had left, you’d heard whispers of what Aemond had done, and you smiled and thanked the gods for a husband like yours.

Jacaerys Velaryon:

If there was one characteristic you could say your husband embodied to the fullest, it would be loyalty. As no matter how many other women, maids and nobility alike, threw themselves at the future heirs feet he always ran back to you.

Even when other men such as the Lannister’s attempted to charm you with their admittedly horrible, yet according to them successful attempts, Jace was always there with a watchful eye, making sure all knew who you belonged too.

He was protective too. A dragon while not in appearance but definitely in spirit. Jace would always find a way to make sure you were safest whether you wanted him to be involved or not. Even this noon when you wanted to get one last dragon ride before dinner, Jace still insisted there was no need. Yet your stubbornness knew no bounds it seems, as while his back was turned you made quick speed to where Shrykos usually slept and flew her into the great distance. A mere speck in the sky before Jace knew what had happened.

You had started the flight laughing with the biggest grin on your face, eager to see the sights from the sky. Yet of course things turned worse as men from one of the many religious groups of the seven kingdoms took notice of you and your dragon, and decided to shoot you with their admittedly massive weapons.

You dodged the best you could, and yet with a scream from both you and Shrykos, you realised you were both hit.

“DRACARYS SHRYKOS! DRACARYS!” You screamed, satisfied when you hear the hells and the screams of the men and the ships bellow. With your good arm, you steer Shrykos to the direction of dragonstone and order the instructions, before all appears to go dark.

When you wake, all seems strangely normal. That is of course, before you see the giant bandaged wound that is your arm. You can see a hint of red peeking from the bandages and are about to see if you could rewrap it, before Jacaerys comes through and with wide eyes realises you are awake and well as you can be.

“My love!” He shouts, running over and encasing you in his arms. Not hearing the low hiss you make when his hands clasp around your still admittedly sore arm. “Where have you been!? You’re hurt!” He yells, finally taking noticing your blood that steadily pools to the surface. “Let us get you to the maesters!”

As much as it hurt you to have Jace pull you like he did, you merely let it all happen so not to cause an event bigger fuss of you than what he already is making. Yet when you get to the maesters chambers and nearly find yourself fainting, that’s when you suddenly understand your husbands worry.

When you wake up though, it’s the feeling of Jaces familiar warmth that settles you as you gaze on his sleeping form. Yet as you wake, so does he it seems. As not even a few minutes after you’ve woken Jace is quick to rise with you. His eyes wide and worried as they roam you for anymore possible injuries you may possibly somehow have hidden.

“Are you alright my love?!” He asks, his eyes still roaming for even a moment of weakness from you. “There maesters took care of your arm and the arrow. And I heard word from the dragon keepers who tell me Shrykos is healing dutifully from his wounds!”

“Good.” You simply say, hissing slightly as you sit up and try to keep yourself grounded. “I’d kill then if she wasn’t.”

Jacaerys laughs at your threat, and his face looks almost serene as he just looks at you. His eyes going soft as his hands continue to hold yours. It’d be an almost affectionate moment had it not been for the sudden flare up of pain in your arm.

“Fuck!” You yell, hissing once again as you’re reminded of why you’re even in the maesters room in the first place. “It is alright husband I’m fine!” You insist seeing the worry now marking his face.

“I will worry when I want.” He simply says, kissing you on the top of your head before moving to sit next to you on the bed. His head resting on yours as he puts his arms around you. Your eyes shutting as a sudden hit of exhaustion hits you, yet you welcome it fully as Jaces arms feel just so welcoming and calming.

Alicent Hightower:

Alicent had always been like a mother to you. Caring for you when you were sick and making sure that you were always in your highest possible health. It was probably why she’d insisted since you were young to fully call her mother, even though you were not biologically related to her.

Whenever she heard about even the slightest of injuries though, she always worried relentlessly about the damage. Which is why when you appeared before her clutching a bleeding wound from your shoulder, you’re quite honestly surprised she hadn’t dropped from shock.

“Oh my darling what has happened?!” She’d gasped, frozen in shock as she stood there not knowing what really to do.

“Bastards on their boats took a few shots at me and Shrykos whilst we were on our morn flight. They got two good shots at us to hurt us but don’t worry. Before we got here Shrykos managed to give them what was coming for them…” You groan, holding your shoulder in your hand that has now from the lack of adrenaline, has begun aching dramatically.

“Oh never mind the men I care only about you!” She fusses, coming closer before stopping half way, staring between your shoulder and your pained face. Maybe Alicent will drop from shock after all.

“SOMEBODY GET THE MAESTERS!” You hear a voice yell, before all appears to go dark before your eyes. When you wake though, it is as if the light is blinding you. You blink a few times to ground yourself, and it’s with a sudden surprise you realise that you feel a familiar warmth on your hand. You turn your head slightly, stiff from the lack of movement you think, and realise Alicent is staring at you with great worry on her face.

“Are you feeling alright my darling? The maesters have cleaned and sewed up your wound, but according to them it shall take a while for it to fully heal. You must tell me dear girl, in detail, what happened out there. What did those people do to you?”

“After me and Shrykos took off, we flew to the stormlands. We were drifting round shipbreaker bay, when those men the council warned us over took notice. Crossbows the size of my arm began shooting at us mother, so I am grateful they managed to get me and Shrykos only once.” At the mention of your dragon, your face turns to worry. Yet before you say anything, your mother quickly moves to interrupt you.

“Your dragon is safe my love. The dragon keepers have been keeping me up to date on her healing, and she is steadily heading to full recovery. The arrow has been removed fully, and the wound has stopped bleeding.” She says, her face betraying her as she is unable to hide her distaste of your dragon.

“Thank you mother, I appreciate the consideration. I know you have no love for Shrykos, nor any of your children’s dragons.” You say, your honesty true as you smile in thanks and understanding.

“You’re welcome my heart…” Your mother smiles, her hand reaching out to hold yours. Which while you admittedly want to shy away from, yet you push through your discomfort to allow your mother this moment that you know your adoptive sister would not have allowed.

“I do not want you to fly unaccompanied anymore my heart,” Alicent begins, shushing your with a single movement when she sees you about to harshly protest. “I have discussed this with your brothers and sister, and they have all agreed. Aemond has already taken the duty on his ever eager shoulders, and has said he will ride with you tomorrow morn at your usual time. It may be in your best interest to thank him next time you see him.”

“Of course mother…” You sigh, already dreading Aemonds smug face and wanting to punch it. Yet you withhold yourself from groaning out loud only from your mother’s sake, who is still holding your hand with intended comfort, even though she is doing nothing but make your blood pump fast around your body. Still, you say nothing. Allowing her to believe she is comforting you with a motherly smile on her face.

Daemon Targaryen:

Daemon had always possessed an amusingly short temper. It was especially tested though whenever it regarded to you. Whenever you got yourself hurt as a child, whether than was to do with training or just an accident in the halls, he always demanded to know the man behind your pain. It’s why you weren’t at all surprised when he reacted that same way when you flew back to Dragonstone and stumbled towards him with an arrow stuck in your shoulder blade.

“Who has dared to harm you zaldritzos? Tell me so I can show them what the exact consequence is for messing with a dragon. I am sure caraxes is already fuelled with my anger alone and is ready to face those who dares spill such precious blood.” Daemon snarls, his face unable to hide its anger as he holds your body steady so it won’t suddenly collapse.

“Bastards from the bloody ships on the bloody sea. Got us good… got us good…” You slur, every word feeling forced from your very gut as your eyes grow heavier and heavier.

“Don’t you dare close those eyes zaldritzos! Don’t you fucking close them!” You hear him snarl once more. But still, you cannot resist the temptation of sleep as you disobey your father and close your eyes.

When you find yourself waking, it is Daemon is standing by you while you slept. His eyes hard and stern as they observe you.

“I suppose you’re mad?” You can’t help but say. Your face admittedly ashamed as you stare to the floor, unable to hold his stare.

“Of course I am mad!” He yelled, refusing to allow you to turn your head away as he forces you to make eye contact with him. “My daughter has gone out without telling me, and she has gotten herself hurt the same way soldiers are hurt in wars!”

“I am sorry father!” You say, tears brimming in your eyes as the disappointed and anger shines through his. “I cannot control where those bastard men sail-“

“But you can control where you fly!” Daemon yells back. His voice rough and frustrated as the inner dragon inside him comes out. “I have taught you better than this zaldritzos! I have been teaching you how to ride that dragon of yours since you were a mere child! So why was it you were no doubt flailing about the sky like an amateur, when I know you could have done better?!”

“I’M NOT LIKE YOU!” You shout, shoving your father away as he stares at you with an expressionless face. “I am not a great leader, or a great dragon rider! I am still learning father! My lessons have not yet stopped being taught! Those men on the ships who shot at us were the ones you had warned us about. The ones claiming our great traditions to be an abomination and deserving of punishment. Me and Shrykos did not know their affiliation as we flew above them. Only when the arrows began to fly for our heads did we realise… I got an arrow in the shoulder, which has now since been removed. Shrykos though listened perfectly and managed to get out of there without any particularly damaging wounds. Still, my anger shon through her, and we managed to light the whole of the fleet up in flames before we flew back home. Where of course, you found me…”

Daemon is silent throughout your rant, yet by the end, when you’re breathless with how quickly you spoke, his hand is placed on your non-injured arm in an unfamiliarly comforting manner.

“I know you are not like me zaldritzos. While I have made you in my image, I hardly expected it to be your only outcome. You have become strong. You have become a fearsome warrior able to bring honour to our family name and our ancestors. I suppose… I may have forgotten that I too have made mistakes. I am sorry zaldritzos…”

The tears that had brimmed earlier in your eyes now tear down your face now that you hear your fathers words. His pride. So you do the only thing you can think of at that moment to show your appreciation. You take your arms and place them around Daemons waist, pulling him into a hug where your head is against his chest. Thankfully his arms seem to automatically go around your own body, and you can’t help but find this act comforting and safe.

“Thank you…” You can’t help but murmur.

“I would never let anything hurt you…” He murmurs back. Words which to anyone else may sound meaningless, but to you, you know they hide your father’s true feeling of care.

Rhaenyra Targaryen:

Rhaenyra had always been a sort of mother to you. A light to guide you in the darkest of your days. Whenever you took ill or had an injury, it was always she who stood by your bed, holding your hand in her own. Even though both husbands and loyal guards warned her of her possibly falling ill herself. Not that she ever did somehow though.

It was like that now. That afternoon, you had decided on a whim to take Shrykos on a fight around the coasts bordering the land surrounding Dragonstone. Yet it seems you coincidentally forgot Daemons talk about the rising threat of a religious group following faithfully the followings of the seven, as you tried to fly past them calmly and peacefully. Shrieking in fear when you realise it was not a harmless fly that flew past your face just now, but a very deadly steel-tipped arrow.

You barely made it out of there alive. The only injuries you yourself sustaining being a few arrow nicks on your shoulders, and the worse of it being a shallow puncture from one of the few successful shots. Shrykos though took most of the hits. Her rage seething the more those pathetic men tried to harm both her and her rider. It was quite satisfying you must say, when you flew away with the fresh smell of burning corpses still behind you, lingering on your clothes.

Yet when you got back home and were standing in front of your mother, that satisfaction quickly changed to a strange sort of guilt when you see her horror struck face.

“What has happened my darling!” She tells, taking ahold of your arm to look at your injury while you yell at her to try and say you were fine, even though you wince as soon as she yanks you towards her.

“Bloody men on the coast of Gull Town decided to shoot at us from their fucking boats. They got only a few good shots before Shrykos managed to get to them. By the time we left, we ensured they became fire and ash. I doubt there are any men alive after that….” You say, barely able to stand as the sudden blood loss reaches you.

You’re barely able to think as your mother brings you to the castle hanging on her shoulder. Soon, maesters surround you whilst your mother fusses by your bed to the left of you. She insists and demands certain things, but by the end, your grateful to feel the pain in your arm significantly lessen not only due to the lack of wooden arrow, but also due to the large amount of milk of the poppy that was pretty much forced down your throat.

“Is it all better now my darling?” Your mother asks, putting your hand between her own to soothe you as if you were a small child who’d scuffed their leg falling on some loose gravel.

“It is fine mother!” You insist. Even smiling as you play the part of the healthy child, able to bounce back from any injuries. Yet somehow she can still manage to see through your facade.

“Are you sure?” She asks again. Her brow raised in questioning as she makes you feel like a young child again. Small, and helpless as you cry to mother.

“Yes I am fine!” You firmly say, taking your hand from hers and placing it on the cold clinical bed sheets. Already missing the familial warmth your mother’s hands had provided you with. “I do not need you pressing!”

“Okay my love. I believe you.” Rhaenyra smiles, acknowledging her child’s want for independence. Moving from the chair she previously had sat on so she can place a quick kiss to the top of your head and smile fondly at the way your nose scrunches. “I will leave you now my love. The maesters had said you’ll fully heal by the moons next turn, but you’re fit to leave the bed tomorrow morn. I’ll visit you then.”

As quick as Rhaenyra leaves, you find yourself already wanting her motherly touch to tell you it’s okay. Your legs tucking under your chin as you hold yourself under the covers, letting your eyes shut so hopefully you’re able to wake up tomorrow by your mother’s voice.

Helaena Targaryen:

Compared to all your other family members, it has always been Helaena you were closest too. A close bond forging between the two of you since girlhood that not once has ever been broken.

You were with her when she claimed Dreamfyre, just as she was there for you when you claimed Shrykos. You also made sure to try and be with her whenever she experienced one of her, moments.

Yet that morning, you were way too busy trying to get ready for your usual morn flight to be with her when she took what the queen would call, a funny turn.

‘Blood of the dragon lost twice over. Beware the boats from bellow filled with men of hate.’

She’d seen your injury and the fire coming from your dragons mouth, and being the anxious person she was, she waited at the dragon keeps entrance with her hands fiddling with each other.

When you fly in holding your arm to try and stem the blood, getting off with difficultly as you try and not fall, you almost scare yourself when you turn and suddenly find yourself face to face with Helaena, who holds a bandage ready to treat you with it.

“Give me your arm…” She softly asks, waiting for you to release your arm from your grip so she can slowly and carefully take the arrow from your arm, choosing to ignore your vocal cries of pain so she can make sure to get the arrow out. When she does, she chooses to just drop the bloody wooden chunk to the floor so she can quickly wrap your now gushing wound, which she cleans with a slightly damp clothe that can’t have been out of the water bowl for long.

“What happened?” She asked while she cleaned your red streaked arm.

“Do you remember those men Aemond warned us about? The ones who hate us for our heritage?” You ask, waiting to hear Helaena unique hum to show she’s truly listening. “Well when I was flying by Tarth, those men were in there boats and obviously spotted me before I spotted them. So they shot at me till they hit me.” You shrug, regretting it soon as you did as you hiss at the sudden flare up of pain.

“It’ll hurt badly. I didn’t manage to take any milk of the poppy from the maesters, so we’ll probably need to visit them soon.” Helaena simply says, giving you a smile before she takes your hand in her own. An act you cannot say in words how much it means to you, given how you know of her usual revulsion for physical touch.

So you stay silent. Allowing her to lead you to the maesters with a small smile on your face, that is wiped right off when you become face to face with them. They stare at your with judgement and soulless eyes as they remove you from Helaenas comforting warmth and instead force you to feel cold metal against your flesh. They ignore you as they unwrap the bandages. Only giving each other looks as they wordlessly judge the state of your body.

It almost makes you want to tear their heads from their bodies and feed them to Shrykos. Who no doubt is feeling your frustrations and anger down in the dragon pit.

Yet you hold your tongue for Helaenas sake, who is watching the maesters take supposed special care of you from the corner of the room. She gives you small smiles whenever you make eye contact, and it’s only with them you manage to pull through. The milk of the puppy though they force down your throat certainly makes you more cooperative though you must say.

“Thank you Hel, for looking after me.” You say, staring at her as soon as the maesters deemed you healed enough and left you. No doing to go get the queen to inform her of your sudden injury.

“It is no problem…” She softly smiles back, moving forward to stand next to you so she can hold your hand in her own. Her soft flesh relaxing you possibly even more than the drugs flowing through your system. “I will always be there for you…”

Laenor Valeryon:

Even though you always knew that Laenor could never truly be your father, he nonetheless always managed to act like one better than anyone. While your mother was busy attending to your brothers, it was Laenor who was always busy attending to you, making sure you were fussed in a way a princess should be fussed.

He always made sure to give you the bestest care a princess may need it. Like right now for instance.

“I NEED A MAESTER RIGHT FUCKING NOW!” You remember your father screaming while your vision slowly began to blur in a variety of difference places. “Where are you hurt ñuha nūmio? Where is the pain? What can I do?”

“Arrow in the fucking shoulder.” You groan, bile building in your throat as you resist the urge to vomit. “Only there father. Shrykos was hit too. Fuck it hurts so much…”

“Do not worry dear girl! The maester will come!” As he says this, guards come running with a maester in tow. The guards take ahold of you carefully as you nearly collapse under the sudden blood rush. The maester barking orders for what to do to you to cause the least amount of damage to your body as possible.

When you get to the healing room, you’re placed roughly onto a bed where now a whole group of maesters now flock to you like a group of crows over a fresh carcass. They all say a different method on how to treat you, yet it’s Laenor whose voice shines louder than them all.

“You will not cut up or harm my daughter!” He yells, his voice firm and harsh as he glares at them all. “You will take out that fucking arrow, and you will heal her. Or I swear, as the heir of the realms husband, I’ll make all of you fucking regret it!”

All is silent, and yet with a firm glare they all scatter to complete your father’s order. Soon, cloth is finding its way in your mouth to quench your screams as hands force the arrow once imbedded in your arm is forced onto a silver plate. Blood gushing down your arm in an admittedly disturbing manner.

By the end, there is an elder looking maester stitching up your blood coated arm, and an arrow head and some wood pieces. Laenor held your hand with every scream and every clench of your body. He made sure you felt as safe as you could in the presence of the same type of men who killed your aunt. He also made sure to quickly push them out as soon as they were done with there work. Nodding along in a dismissive manner as they insist they are still needed.

When they are eventually shushed away however, with the door shut quickly behind them, Laenor quickly finds himself by your side again. His hand laced firmly in yours as he takes a lone damp cloth so he can clean away the dried blood still decorating your wounded flesh.

“Does it hurt much? I can always call a maid to fetch you some milk of the poppy?” Laenor insisted, his touch delicate as he makes sure not to harm you in any way.

“It merely stings…” You shrug, wincing though soon as you do due to the sudden flare up in your shoulder. “I do not need any milk of the poppy father. I can manage my pain.”

“I can see that…” He grins, even chuckling when he sees your own smile. “Though, I must ask. What happened? You did not exactly give me much information before the maesters came for us.”

“Me and Shrykos began our normal journey to the direction of Runestone. But on the coast of Gull town, it appears those men mother had recently warned us about, the ones who deem our customs immoral and a disgrace to a seven, spotted us before we spotted them. They took no time before they were shooting at us with giant crossbows on their ship. They took us by surprise, and managed to get only a single time, but that was enough to enact Shrykos’ rage. I didn’t even say the command father! Shrykos enacted our joined rage and set fire to their ships and their bodies. If they weren��t dead by the time we left, I am almost sure they are all at least dead by now.”

He takes in your words carefully. Murmuring small words every so often while he holds your hand as a sigh of sympathy. When your done though, his face is smeared in deep anger. A hatred you have never seen your father show ever before in your lifetime.

“Well it’s a good think they are dead though,” He finally says, snapping from his thoughts with a huff. “Because if they were alive, Seasmoke would be gorging on a feast right now!”

“Thank you father…” You simply say, falling into his arms that welcome you immediately. You close your eyes and allow yourself to bask in his familiar comforting warmth.

476 notes · View notes