#me projecting to the daemon in my head

[two-white-butterflies]

After seeing that Alyssa x Daemon scene, I'm just...

I don't know. Stop asking me questions. I don't know. 😭

[tin-wufborf]

Tin's Favorite Sterek Fics (Part 6)

Hello, hello, hello, and welcome to the sixth installment of this little series of mine! Thank you all again for likes and shares on the previous parts. You all continue to blow me away with your support for this project of mine. Once again, smooches and squeezy-hugs to you all! But only if you want them.

As a quick heads up, we're entering into the "December 2012" era of fics, so you might start seeing a bit of a Christmas theme going on for a for a little bit. Generally, I don't prefer Christmas fics myself, but I'm a sucker for kid and pack fics (you may have already been able to tell), and those tropes tend to work well in a Christmas setting. Consider yourselves warned!

Okay, that's all from me for now. Ta-ta!

List and link to previous/next part(s) below the cut.

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DISCLAIMER: This is me warning you all that some of the fics I've included in this list may cover explicit, dark, and/or "taboo" subject matters. I cannot express enough how little I care what anyone thinks about any of that; all I want is for you to use caution when reading anything I've listed here and to please review and heed whatever tags the authors have provided in order to keep yourselves safe. Your experience from this point on is your own responsibility, not mine and not the authors'.

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20

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Nothing Satisfies Me But Your Soul by fadedhues (NR | 1/1 | 1,259)

“My name is Death,” he sings softly, and it’s fucking pretty, like he’s singing a lullaby to the winter sky, “and the end is here.”

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must be a devil between us by hoars (NR | 1/1 | 2,081)

"What? Why would-- Derek, why would your daemon encourage mine to touch you?" Stiles fakes calm well, but his heart gives him away.

"Because Luminera is a deviant." He shrugs. He accepted Luminera's reckless behavior years ago.

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souls of mischief by hoars (M | 2/2 | 2,695)

Stiles’ first memory of his mom is green.

Her green eyes, her green dresses, her green scarves, her green blouses and her green barrettes.

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with the darkness fed by Rena (NR | 1/1 | 2,835)

It takes him several tries to dial the right number; his hands are slippery with blood (warm and sticky and bright red) and his entire body is shaking with the aftermath of puking his guts out, his breath is burning in his lungs and the phone keeps eluding his grasp.

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What Could Have Been by thingcalledlove (G | 1/1 | 2,971)

The camera zooms in on the face of a very beautiful woman who looks vaguely familiar.

“Who’s the babe?” Stiles jokes, turning to look over at Derek.

“My mom,” Derek replies with a glare.

“Oh, shit, dude, I’m sor—” Stiles breaks off his apology as his eyes drift back towards the screen. Beside Mrs. Hale is another familiar face. One he hasn’t seen in a long time. His mother.

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I Don't Want To Be Saved by Lapin (M | 1/1 | 3,132)

And everyone, everyone has their own ideas about this relationship, they all say the same things, they all do. "He's not good for you," "It's Derek," "This is the fourth night in a row," "What kind of asshole dates a high schooler?" "I'm not okay with this."

But Stiles pulls the red hood up, wanders from the path, and he's picking flowers, and he's breathing, "My, what big teeth you have," and Derek bares his fangs, and yeah. Fuck them.

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Will Wonders Never Cease by thecheekydragon (T | 1/1 | 3,632)

Sheriff Stilinski wonders how Derek Hale fits into his working theory of a gigantic, two-ton pissed off moose shot-putting his son’s jeep.

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Practically Perfect by betp (NR | 1/1 | 3,688)

WE NEED A NANNY PROBALLY. Reqirments: - eyes light up - wants to go places - can travel between dimentions - likes cheesebergers - a wear wolf - lisens to good music - SUPER STRONG - favorit color is pink - has friends who can fly - will merry our Dad

There is a stick figure drawing of a werewolf with red eyes and bared teeth, marrying Stiles on a cloud.

Or, "The one that has next to nothing to do with the kids." This is a straight-up unapologetic Mary Poppins AU.

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Laura is Badass by hoars (NR | 1/1 | 5,079)

Laura's not expecting two teenage boys to burst into the bakery, brandishing lacrosse sticks yelling about “Kidnap!” and “Pedobears!” and “Sex slaves are illegal!”

She’s flabbergasted.

“Cupcake?” Derek offers.

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When You Stop Believing in Santa You Get Underwear by owlpostagain (T | 1/1 | 7,817)

There are some salvageable things though. A virtually untouched heavy slate sign that says, engraved in an ornate script that confirms at least one person in the Hale family had a sense of humor (Stiles has a horrible suspicion it might have been Peter), When You Stop Believing in Santa You Get Underwear.

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Beltane by DevilDoll (E | 1/1 | 8,254)

"Watching Stiles heal someone has always been a little uncomfortable for Derek, like he's seeing something intimate and private that shouldn't have an audience. That's nothing compared to how it feels." This is an AU in which Stiles has magical healing powers.

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Your Words Are Robbery by dedougal (E | 1/1 | 12,127)

When Stiles is dragged back to Beacon Hills, he has to face everything he left behind.

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cool story, bro by drunktuesdays (E | 1/1 | 13,087)

Based on a truly ridiculous conversation with Kalpurna about a hypothetical Stilinski Twins situation that ended up sounding something like:

“FUUUUUUCK, is it a sweet valley high situation where Stiles is very aware that his twin is way more attractive and confident than he is, EVEN THOUGH THEY'RE IDENTICAL, and he always ends up with the hotter significant others and more friends and Stiles guesses that's why he's attracted to the pack at first, because it's something that's just his, not his twin's too. But of course, Stiles's twin gets bit and now he's part of Derek's pack, and Derek doesn't snap at him like he snaps at Stiles, never slams him into things, fucking FIGURES, STILES'S TWIN GETS EVERYTHIIIIIIIING.”

Kalpurna/good ideas OTP.

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Stay. by paradis (E | 1/1 | 15,537)

He leaves because the press of Derek’s lips and the sting of his teeth against Stiles’ neck are still burning his skin, and he can’t stop touching them, but then he remembers Derek telling him he’s not pack, he never was, and that he doesn’t belong here.

He leaves because Lydia asks him too, but he doesn’t go back to Beacon Hills because no one asked him to come back.

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What To Expect When You're Expecting (A Litter of Sourwolf Puppies) by Brego_Mellon_Nin (E | 1/1 | 17,422)

The Sheriff sighs and plops down in a chair opposite his son.

“Stiles, I’m going crazy here. We need to get you to a doctor. You sleep like you’re trying to get into the Guinness Book of World Records, and your eating habits are bizarre! You vomit around the clock and for some reason only the tea your mother used when she was pregnant will get your stomach to settle down for any length of time. Is there something you aren’t telling me? Can werewolves get guys pregnant? I’ve noticed how you look at that Hale kid-”

Stiles meeps and flails, sloshing tea down his front. Luckily it’s not scalding anymore, but still hot, so he jumps up and wrenches his shirt off.

“God, dad, no! Guys can’t get pregnant, that’s ridiculous, it’s like...”

“Like werewolves being real?” his dad questions, deadpan.

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Home by coffeeinallcaps (E | 1/1 | 18,464)

Derek has bought a beautiful house. Stiles can't stay away. (In which everyone hangs out at Derek's place all the time and Stiles tries but fails not to fall for a certain socially inept alpha.)

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Assistant to the Consulting Detectives by idyll (T | 9/9 | 18,674)

Stiles is going to NYU and ends up working for Sherlock and Joan.

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Metamorphsis by happyevraftr (E | 1/1 | 20,755)

Life isn’t easy for Stiles Stilinski. This is a truth he’d come to accept a long time ago, so it’s no surprise when an enemy pack shows up in town with a mysterious Alpha that’s hell bent on revenge. Things escalate quickly when Erica goes missing and Isaac is attacked by the new pack. As if that isn’t enough to handle, Stiles own body begins to betray him and he must decide whether to die as a human, or live as a werewolf.

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The Birthday Fic by seussian (E | 1/1 | 21,066)

It's Derek's 30th birthday, and Erica and Boyd have been kidnapped. Again.

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Tutor!Verse series by betp (10 works | NR-M | 41,579)

They meet when Derek is seventeen and hates history almost as much as he hates his ex, Kate, and Stiles is sixteen and taking junior-level history classes. Then they fall in love and do dates on each other and I didn't mean for any of this to happen. By which I mean Sterek fic!

1. Not Another Sterek Romance (It Is Absolutely Another Sterek Romance) (T | 1/1 | 2,405) In which Derek is the worst at history and Stiles wears glasses. 2. Boys, Interrupted (NR | 1/1 | 1,329) "I am the result of your academic ennui," Stiles summarises. 3. Jeepin' (M | 1/1 | 1,368) Stiles warns Derek four days in advance, resulting in Derek unable to concentrate in any of his classes that Friday, because all he can think about is his impending gay deflowering, which--jesus fucking christ. 4. Peer Pressure (T | 1/1 | 1,615) "Can't even answer a simple question, he's too good for that. I hope he knows what we do to kids who are too good to talk to us." 5. Golden (NR | 1/1 | 947) "It's like a recipe for a summer romance movie from the 80s." 6. Catch Me a Catch (NR | 1/1 | 1,828) In which Allison will never understand Stiles' sense of humour, Scott will never understand what Stiles sees in Derek, and Derek wonders what he would spend his free time doing if he'd never met Stiles. (The answer is CoD and literally nothing else.) 7. Education (NR | 1/1 | 2,990) "I'll try anything once." He pauses. "With you. Only with you."

In which Stiles and Derek have been dating for three years, and Derek decides to try something new. 8. Viridian (NR | 1/1 | 5,967) "Dude, forget Stiles." 9. Biological Imperative (NR | 1/1 | 2,206) "I want to have children with you someday," Derek interjects firmly. "Not that I know why I seem to think that would be a good idea." Tin here. Just wanted to pop in and say that this part (part 9) is the conclusion to this series as the next part is a WIP reboot of the series.

10. i brought my pencil (NR | 3/? | 20,924) Your typical, classic nerd/jock au, but with a shittier attitude. (A reboot of this series. Sorry guys.)

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[waterlilyvioletfog]

Notes on Criston Cole in 2x02

I was fascinated by Criston Cole in this episode. We don’t really see much of him in ep. 1 so I really wasn’t sure what to do with him and his current choices. This episode we see him a TON and everything in it had me sitting up, eyes sparkling, stupid grin on my face like OH HO HO!! We’re doing good tv!!

More below cut.

1- Fabien Frankel’s Acting

So, last episode, many people noted how Criston generally seems completely blank, no expression, dead eyed. I think this episode confirmed for me that this is a conscious choice by Fabien Frankel, not a reflection of a bad actor or director— Jared Padalecki half-acting in 90% of his scenes for the last several seasons of Supernatural THIS IS NOT!! (Sorry, spn is one of my other natural habitats. The comparison is right there for me.)

There are two smaller moments where we see these really interesting bits of physical acting letting us in on Criston’s internal thoughts even while he’s got the dead face on— I think we should be thinking of this as his Kingsguard Face, roughly equivalent to the customer service smile, but for bodyguards— Criston doesn’t want anyone EVER to know what he’s thinking and feeling unless what those things are can be summed up as “bloodthirsty shark dog with knives pointed at you” (more on this later).

These two moments are first, when we see the servants clearing out the bedroom and Criston flinches away from the sight of Jaehaerys’s bloody mattress. It doesn’t look like a flinch in the way that, say, Emma D’Arcy’s flinch when the door slams closed behind Daemon after the fight does, but it’s an uncalculated movement away from something distressing nonetheless. The scene is basically just this— we see the room coming down, we see Criston, we see the mattress, we see the flinch, there’s like one line of dialogue, the scene ends. The scene has very little function except, one, to show us background minutiae and detail that bring the world and the moment to life, and two, to let us see Criston away from Alicent, Otto, Aegon, and Aemond. It’s a moment that lets us into Cole’s interiority, his guilt.

This guilt is articulated clearly later, when he says to Alicent that nothing can absolve him of what he has done. After Alicent closes the door on him, the camera pans back to Criston where we get the second piece of physical acting that fascinated me— Criston is shaking his head ever so slightly, as if trying to push away thoughts creeping in. This is the moment that really sealed for me the idea of Criston’s Kingsguard Face versus the actual interiority of the character as articulated by Frankel. Essentially, just because Criston’s busy not projecting anything doesn’t mean that Frankel isn’t trying to convey something to the audience in that moment. Criston’s dead eyes and stupid face are a front. There are three scenes where we see something other than this front, and I’d like to look at them more closely.

2- Promotion

We’ve all memed hard on this moment— the scene where Aegon fires Otto and says, “oh?? I need a strong hand??? Well!! Guess what!! I’m promoting— him!”

[camera focus shifts to show Criston Cole standing there like🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️]

(I cackled.)

As usual in any scene where Cole isn’t actively radiating malice, he’s mostly expressionless, serving in his capacity as bodyguard. However, if you look at his face, you can see that his expression isn’t actually “blank” so much as it is “poleaxed”— another thing which has been deservedly memed on. It’s still a minute expression, but it’s visibly different from his standard 🫥 face.

Here the significance of the expression serves a different purpose than in other scenes. Here, Criston’s obvious surprise and mild befuddlement function as a way to hammer home Aegon’s impulsivity and irresponsibility. Criston’s been thinking for the last 36 hours that he got a toddler killed by fucking the king’s mom, and now, after ZERO PRIOR DISCUSSION, has gotten his second insane promotion in like three months maximum.

He’s gone from Kingsguard No. 2 to Lord Commander to the fucking Hand of the King. Criston was fully prepared to be LC of the KG— at most, Criston is expecting to be a crucial lieutenant and battle commander in non-aerial combat for the Greens. Now, as Hand, he would get to decide which battles get fought where by who. Oh, and he has zero administrative skills, so jot that one down.

3- Punching Bag

I talked before about how the turn in Alicent and Criston’s relationship left me with mixed emotions. This scene— the ending scene, notably, which I respect as a denouement and to avoid breaking the flow of the Rryk Fight Plot— helped things fall into place for me.

Criston is waiting inside Alicent’s bedchamber, armor off. If I had the time and energy (or if anyone else has the time and energy…? 👀) I would love to do a post looking at Criston with him armored versus unarmored, because I think the pattern will show that, generally, when he is literally vulnerable he is usually also personally vulnerable.

But I digress— the bigger point I’m trying to make is that Criston, who just kind of got a toddler killed by fucking the king’s mom and also just got promoted over said queen’s dad for a position he’s not qualified for, has shown up wearing pajamas in her room. This man is expecting intimacy. He has prepared himself for it by removing his armor before she even enters the room. There can be no pretense for this. This is about as close to reclining naked, oiled up, on a bed of rose petals, as Criston Cole’s gonna get. Alicent initiates the scene by storming over and getting physical, but I think in his own way, he’s asking for it. Criston plays at passivity, but the point of the scene is to show that he’s very much in it with her.

The scene itself is without dialogue, no recriminations. I think Criston and Alicent have said all that can be said earlier— “What do you take me for?” “One who seeks absolution.” “There can be none for what I have done.”— and this is what’s left: guilt and pain, tangled with a desperation for human connection and someone who understands. Last episode, the commentary talked about how Criston functions as Alicent’s punching bag, and in this episode we see that both with her actually hitting him and I think also with the fact that they keep having sex, re-enacting the thing that they’re feeling guilty about. It’s a way to keep self-flagellating, keeping the wound open so they can atone for their sins by constantly feeling the guilt.

If it works for them, hey. Fair enough.

4- That Bitch

This is the scene that had me GIGGLING, eyes sparkling, stupid grin on my face, kicking my feet, THRILLED. Criston Cole, my dear friend, my evil bitch.

What many people who find themselves bewildered by the genuine Team Green fandom fail to recognize is that, apart from Team Black suffering a lot of iffy writing in s1 that made them uninteresting, most people who like Team Green like them BECAUSE they are not nice people (Helaena excepted 🙂‍↕️😌🙏💜). They are not uniform in this un-niceness, either— Alicent pontificates and pines and looks guilty, Otto calculates and schemes in a very Lawful Evil manner, Larys manipulates and schemes creepily, Aegon is taking notes from Theon Greyjoy, Aemond is an anime villain who just wants his mommy to love him and his brother to say sorry and also to bite people in half with his dragon and maybe get his uncle to fuck him idk we’ll get back to that, and Tyland is an Econ Major. There’s a looooot in there!

Criston is a violent person who for about 95% of his time currently cannot express any of the sheer hatred, rage, malignance, resentment, or pettiness that he is feeling, because he is Too Busy Doing His Fucking Job, where such emotions are a hindrance. Set Criston Cole in a battlefield melee, and he’s fucking set. Set Criston Cole in front of a door for six hours and he’s about ready to die.

In season 1, we saw how Criston found outlets for this— beating men to death, antagonizing the Strong boys in the yard, and getting into fights with Harwin. But now, he’s older, and now, he’s the Lord Commander (though soon!! Soon!!!!) and he can’t do any of that because everyone in King’s Landing is, for better or worse, functionally on Team Green and therefore un-fuck-with-able.

So what’s a man to do when he wants to lash out? The old classic— take it out on the underlings.

People have already said this, but the way the light comes into Criston Cole’s eyes when he’s guilt-tripping his brother-in-arms into either killing Criston’s ex or committing suicide by cop is genuinely incredible. Criston doesn’t even really think Arryk harbors any traitorous inclinations— he just has the excuse of it theoretically being a concern and theoretically having a built-in plan if he needs some justification. Aegon swallows the plan easily enough before Otto forces him to think about it.

Criston gets his co-worker killed and he looks ALIVE while he’s doing it.

It’s clear, too, that Criston lashing out like this at the other Kingsguard isn’t unusual. First, there’s how Arryk reacts to Criston initially entering the room like “oookay. Here we go. While I’m eating breakfast. This fucking guy.” which is telling in and of itself, but could have been a personal acting choice from Arryk’s actor. The bigger clue to this being a regular occurrence comes when Criston hits the table and IMMEDIATELY all the Kingsguard FLEE. THE. SCENE. They don’t exchange looks, they don’t say anything, they know that the best they can do is clear out before they get caught in the crossfire. They know, each and every one of them, exactly who Criston is and how he acts, and they are NOT about to get in the way of their evil boss when he’s on a rampage.

Criston, my guy, you are so awful and I love you. Congrats on getting your co-worker killed. It looked like fun.

Looking forward to the next few weeks when we start to see the Criston-Aegon Hand-King duo in action! I’m sure that everything will go SUPER smoothly and no one will get killed and everything will be fiiiiiinnneeee.

[armandisdaddy]

Arrogance Pt 2. Modern!Au

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Content/ Warning ⚠️: 18+ only, teasing, tension, dry humping/grinding,fingering, revenge, romance, talk of sex, p in v penetration, oral male receiving, oral female receiving

Summary: “I could think of so many things that are much more sweeter than whatever dessert you made..”

Chapter Two

A few weeks had passed and the thought of Aemond being in the same room hadn’t bothered you much anymore. He only annoyed you now constantly asking you how you were doing and wondering what was going on with you and his uncle. “Not everyone is horny dip shit like you Aemond. He’s my boss nothing more nothing less. But if he was my “lover” what’s it to you exactly? You didn’t seem to care when you were fucking my bestfriend behind my back.” You spoke so nonchalantly it was something you learned to do well being under Daemon’s tutelage. You didn’t even bother to look at him while you printed off the papers Daemon requested. “If this is all you’ve come to harass me about today I’m sure you have more…productive things to do besides worry me like a school boy…perhaps Alys needs your attention or has your cock grown old to her as well?” You decided to take your eyes off what you were doing for a moment to cast your gaze upon him. If looks could kill he’d be unrecognizable. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. Finally! He was quiet. He stood there for only a moment more before leaving your office. “Thank the seven!” You exclaimed.

Daemon being your boss wasn’t at all what you expected. You recalled him being rather rude to you on many occasions before now. But with the two of you working so closely and even living together you realized he was actually a good man. Knocking on his door you had finished printing off the contract needed for the Velaryon Project and called you to come in. He was standing at the window of his office looking out into the city when he turned to look at you his slicked back tresses were beginning to fall from him constantly running his hands through it when he was stressed a quirk you often found yourself losing your self in while you stared. Snap out of it. “I-uh have the contracts you need for today’s meeting, Sir.” He chuckled softly at the word. “I already told you, Y/N. There’s no need to be so formal here, please call me Daemon.” You rolled your eyes at that gorgeous smile. “I would but your bitch of a nephew already questions if I suck your cock underneath your desk every day. I don’t need anyone else getting that idea in their head.” His brows furrowed and you saw something in his eyes while he looked over his shoulder at you.

It was uncomfortably quiet and you cleared your throat to break the silence. “Well, you said you had the papers that need to be signed just place them on my desk. I was going to let you know that you can leave early I have the meeting forget Velaryon Project and then that’s it for the day hopefully our cousins will make the deal with us.” You did as he asked and smiled at him before leaving. “You’ve been working really hard for this and you’ve made a good impression you’ve got this one the bag.” You softly rubbed his shoulder and he seemed to relax feeling your touch. “Thank you, Y/N. Also…I..wanted to know if you wished to stay longer. You’ve been a great help to me and the company and I know soon you’ll be able to afford a place of your own…you could stay at my place longer…maybe save up a little more money…” You listened attentively and tried to keep a straight face but inside you were smiling from ear to ear. “I would like that…by the way I have a surprise for you when you get back so I need to go if you don’t mind.” And with that you were leaving the office for the day.

While he was gone you had made proper use of your time you had made a 5 course meal and decorated his dining area. You bought a bottle of champagne and placed everything out just so. You thought this would be a great time to celebrate and also in away thank him for his kindness. It took you a few hours, but after everything was done you were getting ready and not too long after you heard him coming inside. Your hair was in lovely bombshell curls that flowed over your shoulder so beautifully and you were a black dress that hugged your curves just right and stopped mid thigh. You walked out to him with two glasses of champagne in your hand as you greeted him. “I see you started the party without me.” He chuckled to himself taking the glass in hand and tapped it against yours before taking a sip. “So how does it feel to nail one of the biggest deals for the company, sir.” You spoke playfully giggling into the glass as you took a sip. He didn’t have much to say his eyes were wandering over you and that dress. You were growing a bit nervous under his gaze and decided to change the subject. “Maybe we should go eat…it’s been a long day.”

He saw the dining room and gasped loud enough for you to hear. Everything looked and smelled delicious. He was in shock honestly having know idea just how talented you were at many things. Aemond was a fool he thought to himself. You both sat down and he had his fill of bubbly and food. After the two of you were pretty tipsy again. Something the both of you did often together drink and watch movies or gossip. The two of you were giggling and the newest hot topic Alys was fucking Aemond’s older brother now, Aegon. You were tickled at how fucked up and messy their family was but it seemed that even though they were chaotic they were great at building empires. “And to think I wanted to marry that prick and have his babies. Served him right the fucker.” Daemon watched you all but too closely almost like prey. “I could’ve told him it wouldn’t have worked out I’ve had my experience with the whore myself.” Hearing that you were all to intrigued to hear about this hot escapade. “Oh? And tell me was she a good lay?” He shrugged and rolled his eyes. “She wasn’t anything special to me, I didn’t even pursue her. Too easy…I like a challenge…it makes the victory even more…satisfying.” He spoke intensely slowly swirling the last bit of champagne in his glass before gulping it down a bit dropped down his chin and he instinctively licking the corner of his mouth making you turn uncomfortably in your seat. “You alright?” You jumped out of your thoughts and walked toward the kitchen. “I almost forgot dessert.” He spoke lowly watching the way your hips swayed. “Indeed.” He quietly followed behind you and saw you going into the fridge. He grabbed your arm and pulled you close to him. “I could think of so many things that are much more sweeter than whatever dessert you made..” He nestled his face into your neck and inhaled your perfume groaning. His hands holding onto your hips tight to keep you from moving.

“Daemon…I…don’t think…” He smiled you finally said his name. “Ah…there it is…it sounds so delicious coming from that pretty little mouth yours.” You shuddered involuntarily feeling the soft kisses on your neck and shoulder as he backing into the counter. He kissed his way up your neck until he found your lips. He’d wanted to do this for a while now….when he first met you actually. His tongue demanding entry and you let him instantly melting as his tongue twirled around yours. His hands hiking up your dress he used his thigh to spread you legs apart pressing his knee into your warm core. You gasped and sucked his tongue in slowly beginning to grind your hips forward. He smiled into the kiss moving his knees up into your thrusts. Your quiet moans got him so excited and he wanted more. He pulled one of your breasts from your dress and lazily licked and sucked your nipple biting and tugging at it softly while you made a mess on his Armani slacks.

His hands gripping your ass cheeks pulling them apart and back together he pulled your thong to the side and let two thick fingers rub over both of your holes. Daemon pulled was cheek apart and felt the pool of warmth which was your cunt and slowly pushed a finger inside. You moaned at the entry and groaned at how tight you squeezed just his finger. He bit his lip and eased it in and out slowly torturing you. “Please…Daemon…more…” you begged and how could he resist just a sweet request. He pushed the second finger inside and almost drooled at how you stretched around them. “Fuck…I can’t wait to feel you on my cock…” he cooed kissing her lips, neck and shoulder pumping his fingers into her while his other hand was filled with your ass cheek and you were helping yourself to his knee. His cock was severely constricted in these pants and he needed to free him. Pulling his fingers from you he unbuckled his belt and unbutton his pants let his cock free. He was thick and long…just right in your opinion…so much so that you were damn near drool at the sight of it.

“So…Y/N you were saying something about sucking my cock earlier…that’s been on my mind since if I’m being honest with you.” You smiled and got down into a low squat looking up at him as his cock hovered over your face. “Gorgeous…” he whispered rubbing your face before guiding his cock towards your lips. You opened up and sucked on the head cooing at the salty taste of his precum with the mixture of him and you were in heaven. Your head bobbing away and you sucked and licked him hungrily while he pumped into your mouth like an animal. That throat of yours…how could someone look so sweet but be so damned deadly. His head was tilted back and his mouth agape. Were you trying to suck him dry?…maybe…of course you were. “Fuck..babygirl if you keep this up I’ll be done before I’ve even gotten started…” he pulled away and propped you up on the counter kissing your sloppy lips before shoving his face in-between your legs. He pushed your knees to your chest and lapped at your clit like he was starving. He suckled your pearly so attentively and looked up at you occasionally reveling at those sexy ass faces you made…perfection. He sucked a few orgasms out of you and he was pleased with himself.

Now it was time to fill you up and he wasted no time “You ready…” you nodded and as he lined himself up with your entrance he slowly eased inside of you hissing all the way in feeling you opening up but quickly gripping him like a vice… ”That’s it…heaven..” he growled into your neck slowly pumping into you trying not to cum prematurely. Slowly he picked up his pace shuddering every now and then hearing how his cock were stirring you up…those sweet sticky sounds..and you could barely think just take his cock while he was losing his mind. At this moment he was yours mind, body, and soul. If this is what being with you was like all of you…he needed you all of you. “Please don’t ever leave me…Y/N.” He whispered into your ear practically begging. You couldn’t really get out word so you just pulled him in closer and he pushed himself deeper until he was stopped by your cervix.

“Baby…you’re gonna make Daddy… fucking cum…” he growled and bit into your shoulder letting you orgasm first before he pulled to spill his seed on the kitchen floor. You both were breathing heavily trying to catch your breath and you kissed him one more time. “You made a fucking mess.” You breathed out and he laughed lowly… “I’ll clean it up don’t worry.”

to be continued…

Taglist

@malfoycassimalfoy @wolflover252

[thephantomcasebook]

Do you think HOTD could be canceled with Season 3? I mean, today was quite a day with these leaks and not so pleasant statements haha

Eh ...

Probably not.

"House of the Dragon" is one of MAX's flagship shows for their streaming service. They've put a lot of money into it both in budget and marketing.

I do think that this season will be the start of diminishing returns and that a lot of people won't be thrilled with it, but I think the majority of the audience will give Season 3 a chance.

There seems to be a rather pervasive sense of arrogance by writers and creators that adapt ASoIaF projects that they eventually get really get up their own asses. And I feel that Season 1 being as big of a hit as it was, was probably a really bad thing for the creative team here. Just from interviews and the things people have said, Condal is already getting a big head and acting as if he's bullet proof. Basically, he thinks that he and Hess can put anything up they want on screen and people will watch it and eat it up.

But my point is that there is huge structural flaw in HOTD that is about to come crashing down. And that's there is no story symmetry to the plot. They've basically wasted a bunch of time and are about to waste more of it. Writing wise, there is absolutely no reason to spend as much time as we are about to on Daemon at Harrenhal nor Rhaena claiming a dragon. They've wasted so much time in fact that they've had to leave out key characters till Season 3 - Daeron being the biggest.

Condal came out recently and said that Daeron is a major and important character in the future. But the problem is that when they introduce him in Season 3 - if the rumors are wrong that he's going to be introduced stealthily in Season 2 as major player in the Harrenhal Plot - we've gotten no time with Daeron and his siblings, or most importantly Alicent.

Daeron's relationship with Alicent and Criston is important, very important. Because not only are they his parents, the people who raised him, but he is Alicent's favorite child - favorite person in the world - and the massacre at Tumblestone was partially carried out because the Starks put Criston's head on the main Royal Standard at the Battle which pissed off Daeron to a murderous rage.

Daeron's entire character motivation is Alicent, loving her, wanting to rescue her no matter the cost - physically or morally, and they've never shared a scene together.

How are you going to convey all of the weight of Daeron wanting his mommy back, avenging the only father he's ever known, and being loyal to Aegon to a fault - rejecting the crown when basically all Westeros wants him to be King - when you're introducing him without him ever sharing a scene with Alicent and Criston, nor any of his siblings.

You've wasted so much time fucking around that the story symmetry is fucked.

So, no, I don't think they'll cancel HOTD before Season 3, but I predict that a lot of people are going to start seeing the cracks in the foundation by the end of it. And I predict that rather than pivot, Condal and Hess will attack the fans.

I think Season 2 will leave a bad taste in a lot of people's mouths, judging by the leaks and some of the inside stuff people have told me.

[wonderbias]

Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down) - Chapter Two

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC (Visenya Targaryen)

Warnings: MDNI, +18, language, violence, manipulation, sexism (style a la medieval), blood, angst, kinslayer Aemond, Valyrian supremacist Daemon.

AN: The dividers are from @itbmojojoejo. Their work is awesome, and they make one of the prettiest dividers I've seen. Any questions/asks/any kind of message, feel free to contact me. Enjoy!

AN2: So...here it is. I've been typing as fast as I can once I got the idea, not even my college projects got this much attention from me. Thank you so much for the support and for waiting, you don't know how much it means to me! As always, this isn't beta-ed so...any mistakes, it was a fairy or a witch. Thank you!

Aemond had never felt so confused in his life. The past few days had been a whirlwind of chaos, tears and so much confusion.

The news that his wife had vanished from their chambers had been sent to every House of the Realm. Everyone was distraught -even his grandfather had been very vocal about his worry- and the Lords were pressing on his family for any information.

The day that Rhaenyra renounces her claim to the Throne her only daughter disappears?

Strange.

“A plot” “A trap” “Too many coincidences” “Doesn’t look good” “Where does this leave us?”

The Lords whispered in the hallways and even in front of the King, the atmosphere was filled with tension and it seemed like nobody wanted to be on the Targaryen’s side.

But the days passed and, as Rhaenyra’s cries could be heard at every hour, the questions started to change -especially when the servants started whispering of seeing the Rouge Prince praying on the Godswood of the Red Keep- towards the Royal family.

“I’ve heard that the princess was lonely.” “She was locked in her room.” “Queen Alicient had forbidden her from contacting her family.” “Silverwing is locked in the Dragon’s Pit, she wasn’t allowed to fly.” “They wanted her gone.” 

Still, even with more questions, not even an answer came. 

The Hand was quick to diminish the rumors and assured everyone that there was a search party for the Princess, ravens had been sent and every House had been ordered to make a search party. The City Watch, with Daemon at its head, had raided Kings Landing in search for any clues or rumors, but it came back empty handed.

Nobody knew what to do.

At the advice of the Master of Law, the Crown and Rhaenyra -after some convincing of the Dowager Queen and Lord Corlys- had agreed on an interrogatory of servants, guards, lords, ladies, and any person who had been that day with Visenya.

After listening to the fifth servant describe how she had been scrubbing the floors of the Great Council’s room, Aemond had felt a stinging pain in the empty eye socket, caused without a doubt by the stress and the lack of sleep. He had tolerated it for some time, focusing on the table and not looking directly at the light, but as time passed the nausea appeared. He had been granted permission to leave the interrogatory by the Hand -the King was obviously very occupied fucking some maid to be present-.

As he moved through the room towards the door, he could feel Daemon’s and Rhaenyra’s eyes piercing his back.

He was pulled from his slumber by a knock in the wall.

A knock in the hidden passageway.

His hand searched for his dagger as he moved out of the bed, swiftly walking to the wall he knew hid the passageway.

Only when he moved closer did he hear the pattern.

tap tap

pause

tap tap tap

Quickly and with his heartbeat resounding in his ear, he opened the entrance.

A body crushed into his, its scent of sandalwood and dried flowers hitting his nose. He pressed his face against the thick black hair, his hands roaming the curves of the body he knew so well, covered by a thick dress. After a few minutes they parted, and the green -almost feline- eyes locked with his lone violet one.

"My Prince...I'm sorry, but I had to see you...alone," thin, bony hands were grabbing his forearms, and her green eyes were shining with something he couldn't pinpoint. "The Master of Whispers has forbidden me from leaving my rooms, and all that I know I've picked it from the servants."

His knuckles softly caressed her cold face, his voice merely a whisper, "She's gone, my Lady."

Alys head tilted slightly forwards, her eyebrows furrowing - not in the gesture he liked oh so much - "What do you mean?"

"Visenya has disappeared, no one knows where she is," was his stoic answer. "Seems like the Seven have blessed me and cursed me at the same time."

The look in his Lady's face slowly morphed from one of slight nervousness to something that the Strong bastard never had shown him: confusion.

A pale hand, a hand that had caressed him and satisfied him so many times, moved to rest on his chest, "My dearest...I've not seen it."

A soft breeze filled the chamber, the light of the candles trembled, projecting shadows behind them. 

'A candle is an offering,' -his Alys had once said- "we ask the Lord of the Light to come into the room...to chase the shadows away, to chase the bad spirits away from us.'

He could see her green eyes fixed on the candle and then moving to the fire at the hearth. A soft furrow appeared between her eyebrows.

'But, sometimes, we can see more in the shadows...the shadows hold all that is putrid... and that the fire can not burn.'

The hand on his chest fell slowly. Mumbling a soft apology, she went back through the same passageway, the door closing behind her.

'The shadows hold the darkest intentions of a person.'

"Princess Visenya was absolutely miserable here, the only thing that gave her joy was sneaking around and going outside to help the people of Flea Bottom," Lady Reyne's voice filled the room. Her honey colored eyes went through every single one of the members of the hearing, staying a bit too long on the Princess parents, her gaze softening. There was a rumbling of papers and Lord Jasper Wylde cleared her voice, "My Lady, all the gates are protected by Gold Cloaks and White Cloaks, there's no proof of-" Her nostrils flared, "Surely a man as intelligent as you knows that there's other ways of sneaking out of the Red Keep. Visenya knew them. And we used them." The Lord Hand's eyes narrowed, but the Lady's tongue was quicker, "Visenya was unprotected. Even I, a mere wife of a minor House that was staying as a guest, had more protection than her." Daemon's eyes fixed upon the Lord Hand, "You kept my daughter without protection?" Otto's answer was quick, his voice raising, "There was no threat to the Princess and she's in the most safe place of Westeros." "Safest place in the world but a Princess of House Targaryen disappeared under all your noses!" Daemon was almost screaming, ready to throw himself at the man, his wife's hand holding him back. "My Lord Hand, Prince Daemon, please, let us calm down," one of the Lords tried to keep peace, and both men sat back down. "My Lady, please continue." Lady Reyne nodded, her chin going slightly up and her hand resting over her pregnant belly, "As I said, the Princess and I are close confidants, we have a beautiful friendship. I had to see my friend withering away every day that passed, and it broke my heart…it still does." She took another breath, "I suggested she run away, back to her parents, she has a dragon, after all. But she didn't want that, her duty was to mend her marriage, even after…" The Lady stopped talking as a sob came over her, her eyes filling with tears, "I-I…forgive me." There was an awkward silence between the people present, only those genuinely worried about the Princess seemed to worry over her tears, Lord Corlys even offered Lady Reyne a handkerchief, which she took with a soft smile. "T-Thank you, my Lord," she dried her tears and took a deep breath. "I am very lucky in my marriage, even though it was born of duty, I have three magnificent children. I know that men have…needs but…” She raised her head, “Prince Aemond took everything from Princess Visenya.”

As soon as he stepped a foot into the dining room, his mother was moving towards him.

"Where were you? You didn't join the search party!" her fingers were digging into his arms, her auburn curls coming out from the green and gold headpiece.

His lone eye scanned the room: the King was sitting at the head of the table, his thumb and forefinger pressing the bridge of his nose -surely hangover, since there was no pitch of wine at the table; the Lord Hand was at his right, his eyes fixed on Aemond while he drank some tea, his hands rearranging the cutlery, and his sister -sweet Queen Helaena- was eating her fruits, her gaze lost in some corner of the room.

"I was sleeping," he finally answered.

Alicient looked at him dumbfounded, her fingers digging even more into his flesh and her eyes holding a storm of emotions, the same ones he had seen in the night of the famous dinner, "Sleeping?"

His hands moved to grasp hers, softly moving them away from his arms, "Yes, mother. I've been on Vhagar's back searching the Kingsroad and the alternative paths, also some forests and tricky spots. I needed sleep."

Aemond moved away from his mother and sat down beside his sister, his hands reaching for the tea and some sausages.

The steps of the Dowager Queen were heavy as she moved to sat down, her face resting on her hands - a moment of vulnerability, a moment where everyone could appreciate how much of a toll this was on the Queen Mother.

After a few minutes, she raised her head and fixed her eyes on Aemond. The regality was back, "Did you -"

"I've given the order to send the Strong bastard back to Harrenhall. She'll be parting tomorrow," Otto said nonchalantly, not caring if he was interrupting the Dowager Queen.

His head turned to look at his grandfather, but this one raised a hand, "Her presence isn't helping us here. The King has already signed the notice." Otto picked the napkin and cleaned his mouth before standing up and leaving the napkin on his seat. "If you excuse me, I have issues to solve, like the matter of a missing Princess."

Before the door closed on his back, the Lord Hand turned and fixed his eyes on Aemond - a gaze that Aegon and Daemon Targaryen knew a little too well, "If you decide to come to another meeting of the Council, by the Seven, have the decency of looking worried."

The door closed softly but slowly behind him, control in every single one of his movements. His words left a bitter taste on Aemond. He was worried, yes, but not for Visenya (how could one worry for someone who was a stranger?) but for his family, for the danger that a mourning mother and father with dragons represented.

His mother's voice distracted him from his thoughts, "I am taking my leave, too. Aemond, it would make me happy for you to join me in my prayers... I know that, if you ask for their guidance, the Seven will help you."

The Dowager Queen stood from her place at the table, lips pressed in a firm line and anguish in her amber eyes, Visenya’s disappearance was taking a toll on her too

"Just so you know, brother, I never signed any "notice" to your bastard lady," Aegon spoke immediately after their mother left, not daring to say the words in the presence of the ‘elders’. "I would never get in between a man's cock and his favorite cunt."

Aemond’s hands focused on cutting the sausage in equal parts, “That’s a consideration I have never expected from you, brother. You are getting softer…metaphorically…and literally too.”

The King laughed at his jab, his hand smacking the table, “Quite the humor for a widower!” Aegon leaned closer and there was now a hint of seriousness in his lilac eyes, but also of doubt, “Tell me, brother, what did you do?”

“You may want to be more specific, my King,” was the only answer he received.

With a quick and graceless motion of his hand, Aegon dismissed the servants, leaving the three siblings alone. He moved closer to his younger brother and, almost mumbling, he asked, “Did you kill her?”

There was no sound in the room, even Helaena had stopped eating and was looking at Aemond. The Queen had a face that was incredibly expressive, but it all lost meaning when one looked at her purple eyes that seemed far away.

Aemond sighed, his voice another whisper, “I did not do anything, she just…vanished.”

At that, the King relaxed back in his seat, but his expression remained the same, “I will be honest, brother: this does not look good."

That seemed to make the One-Eyed Prince laugh - a soft, humorless chuckle erupted from his mouth while his lone violet eye fixed on his brother. Aegon seemed displeased at that, his lower lip encased between his teeth. For the first time in their lives, they were acting just like their birth roles: the older brother scolding the youngest one.

The King drank more of his goblet and wiped his mouth with his sleeve, an expensive-looking black and golden tunic, "Listen…listen to me: I was out that night."

That seemed to catch Aemond's attention, so Aegon continued, "I was not that drunk, yes? I was a bit…lively, but I remember using the hidden passageways and…I locked them."

They locked eyes, really looking into each other's eyes, Aegon's eyes were a pale violet that showed no emotional restraint, so similar to their mother's eyes.

And, for the first time in his life, Aegon showed the same mix of disappointment and fear that Alicient usually had in her eyes when looking at her eldest son.

The doors opened suddenly, interrupting the small talk of the people. The Princess and her Consort turned around to find her firstborn son walking towards them.

Rhaenyra's eyes softened but her tone was serious, "Jace, you shouldn't be here."

Her eldest son was breathing heavily, his eyes darting between his mother and his step-father, "I want to testify."

Daemon and Rhaenyra exchanged a glance between them, until Daemon whispered so that no one could hear them, "Have you been hiding something from us?"

Jacaerys eyes fixed on those of his step-father, "I have."

Rhaenyra sighed and turned around, to inform the other members of the hearing, "Prince Jacaerys will testify now." With that, she moved to sit on her designated chair, Daemon following her.

There was a soft murmur of some Lords whispering, the majority absolutely disinterested in the matter.

The Hand motioned to the chair, "Be brief, please."

Jace stared at him before sitting down, it was obvious nobody wanted to hear him.

(

"Nobody cares for us, Vis," he had said. "Even Lord Corlys looks at me as if I'm a…pretender."

His older sister had thrown him a cushion, "You're the child of the Princess, the Heir. You're legitimate."

He had rolled his eyes, "You know what I mean."

"The fact that our mother had an affair with a Gold Cloak doesn't make you less of a Targaryen," she had replied, her nose furrowed in a mocking manner.

"That's the point, Vis, I'm no Targaryen, I'm a Velaryon. Have you met a dark haired Velaryon?" 

She raised her eyebrows, "We could say that you dye your hair with those inks that father buys from Pentos."

He threw back the cushion, "Are you even listening to me? Stop joking!"

She kicked his calf, her pale eyebrows raised, "I'm listening to you, and what you say is utter shit. You know who is to blame that you are…you? Our grandfather and Lord Corlys. Four eyes and they were fucking blind to notice that Laenor liked men."

"Mother was already pregnant with you when she married, why did she decide to have me?" He whispered.

Her hands went to grab the collar of his chemise, pulling him closer, "Because she wanted to. And because she knew that she could protect you, and that I would when I become Queen."

Time stopped for a minute as brother and sister stared at each other, her hands holding him tight and a fire burning in her eyes. He could see tears pooling in her eyes, and that made his amber colored eyes wet too.

He gave her a watery smile and poked her cheek, "You love me."

"Yes, but I wouldn't dream of being your wife," she teased him, cheeks covered in tears.

"As if I wanted to be your husband, I prefer you as my sister. Mandia," he said.

"And I prefer you as my valonqar," she sniffed before giving him a nudge on his shoulder. "Now, let's finish this wine before father finds us. Where did you take this from?"

He saw her take a big gulp of the sweet drink, "From that room close to the Maester's room."

She stopped drinking, "That's the room of the Valyrian priest."

They both looked at eachother, amber eyes fixed on violet ones. Until she left the bottle of wine on the floor, "You fucking idiot, you grabbed the ceremony wine!"

His eyes opened wide, "What?! Are we married now?!"

"Do I look like I know?! I need to puke!" Visenya quickly stood up and went to the privy, her fingers entering her mouth.

)

Jace smiled at the memory, one of the many he had with his older sister. She loved them fiercely, and even though they were both stubborn and had many arguments, he knew she would always protect him.

Someone cleared their throat, a sign that they were waiting for him to speak, it brought him back to reality.

His baby sister. Luke. Vis.

His fists clenched and he straightened his back. Looking at no one in particular, his voice became sharp as he started talking, “Princess Visenya and I wrote to each other once a week.”

He saw Larys Strong leaning forward in his seat, his head tilting slightly towards Otto Hightower. Good, - he thought- you didn’t know that. His eyes moved towards Daemon and he could see he had also noticed Larys gestures.

Stil, Otto Hightower was adamant on passing this revelation as irrelevant, “I’m sorry, my Prince, but I can’t see how this information is relevant-”

“It is relevant, my Lord Hand, because I keep every single one of Visenya’s letters and, in those letters, she mentions, not only once but several times, that she keeps a diary in secret,” Jace interrupted him.

There was a silence, he could see that even his mother was surprised - no one had expected that.

A lord, Jasper Wylde, he believed, spoke first, “You mean that…there's a written record from the Princess.”

“I know what you are thinking, my Lord, and yes: my sister kept a record of her marriage, her life in the Red Keep and every political discussion she heard of,” he continued, not giving anyone time to think. “Find the diary and you will find out what happened to Princess Visenya.”

A day had passed since that breakfast.

Five since the disappearance.

Of course there was no news about Princess Visenya. The lack of any clues meant that both parties -the Royal family and Visenya's parents- could switch the tides to their favor spreading rumors between the common folk and lower nobles.

What was certain was that the Lords interest in the disappearance of a Targaryen Princess had diminished. Even though Corlys Velaryon insisted that his House would demand answers, the truth was that almost every House was polishing her daughters of marriageable age to, when the time came, present them to the court as candidates to be the prince's wife. Obviously, some Lords were waiting for the opportunity to introduce their daughters to Aemond - Otto Hightower style.

But then, something happened.

After a ride on Vhagar's back, going over some roads and forests, again, Aemond came through one of the passages only to find some Kingsguards, a carriage and Daemon Targaryen in his armor.

Ser Arryk moved forwards, "We have orders from the King and the Council to deliver you to them, my Prince." The White Cloak motioned to the carriage, he seemed a bit distraught.

He took a deep breath through his nose, his eye never leaving his uncle's figure, "Was it necessary to come and pick me up?"

"The Queen Mother insisted," was his answer.

If it was a decision from his mother then she must have had her reasons, but it was somewhat strange that she had allowed this. She always waited for him to come to her to deliver some news. This was odd.

He nodded stiffly and stepped inside the carriage, not having another choice. As the door was closing, a blade made it's way through the crack of the door, "I will join my nephew. Take my horse."

His uncle didn't wait for an answer since he opened the door and climbed inside, sitting in front of him.

They looked at each other, both men analyzing and studying the other as if they were in a duel - slowly circling the prey and waiting for its movements.

The carriage started moving and, soon enough, all that was heard was the wheels through the potholes and the horses hooves hitting the stony pathway. 

He noticed that it was the first time that he was alone with his uncle, a person he had once admired and dreamed of being like him. Another second son. A second son who had made it's own name in the world.

The Rogue Prince. He inspired fear and hatred and his enemies knew him well. All across Westeros they knew Daemon Targaryen for his skills and for wielding Dark Sister.

Aemond Targaryen was only known for having one eye and for being a Kinslayer.

His mother had said that, as long as his actions were led by the grace of the Seven, he would find success and his own name. Everyone would remember him.

But he could see history. They would write about him, without a doubt, but he would be no more than a cripple, the one who had murdered in cold blood his nephew and whose wife had disappeared.

That was not what he had dreamed.

"When Visenya told me she intended to marry you I could not believe it," his uncle had spoken abruptly, his voice clear and firm through the noise. "Mine own daughter mixing with a cripple half-Hightower? I would have preferred if she boarded to Lys."

Daemon's fingers were twisting a ring on his little finger, his violet eyes fixed on it, "You know her answer?"

He kept his mouth shut, internally praying to the Crone to give him strength and prevent his uncle from carrying on this talk.

But the Gods hadn't answered before, why should they now?

"She told me: 'He's intelligent, a good swordsman and ambitious. A second son, after all. But he's incredibly kind and loyal to those who he loves. Just like you. What more can your daughter desire than a man who will love her as her father loves her mother?" his thumb caressed a small ring on his little finger. "So I gave her my approval, as if she needed it. But I gave it to her."

In a second, Dark Sister was stabbing the wood of the carriage beside Aemond - the movement too quick for him to react, "I even braided her hair for her wedding. Do you know that? I walked my daughter to you, you cunt, and you took her from us."

"I am sure that Lord Royce feels the same way about you," Aemond's voice came in a whisper.

Rage flashed in his uncle's eyes, he could now see why he was deadly in the battleground, "Do not even dare to compare my daughter to that bitch." The sword's edge moved closer to Aemond's face until it rested against his jawline, a threat that both of them knew that Daemon Targaryen could fulfill.

The older man moved his face closer, until their noses were almost touching, “You better start praying to the Seven for a quick and merciful death.”

The carriage came to an abrupt stop - Daemon took Dark Sister and pulled it from the carriage wall, sheathing his sword. “Come.”

The door opened and, once his uncle descended, he was facing the stairs to the Red Keep, the Dowager Queen waiting for them, her hands intertwined while her fingers picked against each other. The mask of regality fell for a minute when she saw him coming after his uncle, who immediately walked past her, barely giving her a glance. 

Alicient moved quickly towards her second son, her hands going to grab him in his arms, “What were you doing with him alone?”

“He came with the carriage you sent for me, mother,” his voice was a mere whisper, the close encounter was proof that there were certain ‘loyalists’ to Rhaenyra in the city.

His mother took a deep breath and whispered back, over her shoulder he could see Ser Cole watching over them, “The members of the Hearing want to see you. Your grandfather says that they are adamant on having you there.”

He closed his eye, just what he needed, “Lead the way, then.”

“State your name,” said Lord Corlys.

Her hands grasped the rough fabric of her apron, “R-Rosey, my Lord.” She could feel the gaze of the Cro-Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon fixed upon her, hopeful and impotent. “I was, am, one of Princess Visenya handmaids.”

The sound of a feather against scroll is heard, someone is writing down what she's saying, but she doesn't know the name of the person (or Lord, she thinks for her insides). The Lord Hand looks at her, “What did you do the day of the disappearance?”

Everyone looks so bored, she's another mere servant girl after all, “Me and Wylla prepared the Princess tea and breakfast, as always. Wylla had spent the whole night sewing a dress for the Princess, so by morning she was quite tired, so I was the one to deliver the breakfast to my Lady. When I arrived at the chambers the guards told me that the Princess was indisposed, and that Prince Aemond had instructed to let her rest, so I retired.”

More writing and then the tired voice of the Lord Hand is heard, “Thank you, Rosey. You may retire now.”

She gulps and stands, her eyes fixed on the floor as she walks towards the door.

“Why did Wylla spend a whole night sewing the Princess dress?” Princess Rhaenyra’s voice sounded void of emotion.

“Princess, how is that relevant? The girl has already declared-” Otto Hightower started speaking again, only to be interrupted.

“The Princess is asking a mere question, as the mother of the Princess she has every right to keep the interrogation,” Prince Daemon interrupted the Lord Hand. His violet eyes moved until they were fixed on Rosey, “Sit back, girl.”

Rosey moved nervously on her spot and walked towards the chair, only to raise her eyes and find Lord Corlys giving her an encouraging nod, “It'll be just a few moments, Rosey.”

Biting her lip, she sits on the chair and looks at the floor, “Wylla did it because it was one of Princess Visenya's favorite dresses… and she wanted to wear it at the signing of the Peace Treaty.”

Unconsciously, she lifts her head to look at Princess Rhaenyra (Always look at me in the eye, -her Princess had said to her and Wylla- and be honest. I'll be honest with you too.) and she's struck by the similarity between mother and daughter, by the way their mouths curve in the same soft smile.

She can hear her lady's laugh in her ears, making her heart ache. She can also hear her crying, and she's reminded of the metallic scent.

("You must promise me that you will not say a word."

"Princess-" Wylla had tried to make her see reason.

"No, Wylla, not a word. And you too Rosey, not a word."

She had choked on her tears while cleaning the cuts on the delicate skin, "But, my Lady-"

"No. Just…obey. Not a word.")

Maybe it was the pain of losing her beloved Lady, maybe it was the sleepless nights, maybe it was the way she had seen Wylla praying on her knees hoping that their Lady would come back.

Maybe having lost everything meant that she had lost the fear.

"Princess Rhaenyra, Prince Daemon, there's something that you should know."

As the doors closed behind him, he immediately knew something was wrong. There were four people sitting at the table.

His grandfather was standing at the end of the table, face red and morphed into a mask of rage. Larys Strong was standing in one corner, his eyes going over the people in the room, barely fixing on him

“Prince Aemond,” the voice of Rhaenyra filled the room. He barely turned his head, but it was enough to see some Lords and Ladies, not enough to fill the room, but enough to make his mouth go dry.

What in the Seven Hells was this?

“Brother,” that was a way to catch his attention, and he turned to look at Rhaenyra. Her hair was filled with braids, in the same way he had seen Visenya’s hair so many times, but her lips were pressed in a thin line. “You must be wondering what are you doing here, so I will be brief.”

Her pale hands moved over the table, the sound of parchment being moved was heard, “This…Hearing has received disturbing news during the few days we have been working.”

He opened his mouth to speak, his eye darting to his grandfather for a clue, only to receive an unperceivable shake of his head. Don’t say anything.

So he looked back at his half-sister and nodded, that seemed to surprise her but she hid that quickly, “Were you aware that the Princess Visenya, your own wife, felt lonely at the Red Keep? That she wasn’t given the same treatment as the members of the Royal Family?”

That was it? His mouth moved quicker than his brain, “Visenya never liked Ladies-in-Waiting, so if she felt lonely it was partly her fault. She insisted that she didn’t need ladies going over her as if she was a bored child.”

Princess Rhaenyra exchanged a look with her husband and Lord Jasper Wylde, “Your answer to the second question?”

He sighed, his thumb and forefinger pressing between them the fabric of his riding gear, “I can’t speak of that matter…she was always happy attending her own duties as the wife of a Prince.”

There was a mocking snort from Daemon, but it was Corlys Velaryon who spoke, “Wife of a Prince? She was already a Princess. And before King Viserys last wish, the heir of his heir.”

The man’s eyes fixed on him, “You meant to tell me that my granddaughter never attended a Council meeting? Never went to visit the city?”

Aemond shrugged his shoulders, almost imperceptible, “She liked to take Silverwing on long rides and reading.”

There was silence in the room, which Daemon interrupted, “I think I used to know my late wife, Lady Royce, better than that. And she hated me.”

There were some laughs in the room, but Aemond interrupted them, “We were just…distanced, but that does not mean that I didn’t know my wife.”

“I wonder what caused that distance,” muttered Daemon Targaryen. “Now, we have spoken to Layde Reyne and she states that Princess Visenya was more like a prisoner than a Princess.”

His eyebrows furrowed, “The lady wife of Lord Reyne? What does she have to do with this?”

He saw his grandfather close his eyes for a moment, until Rhaenyra spoke again, confusion in her voice, “You don’t know the name of your wife’s closest friend?”

He scoffed, looking over the four persons, “I would remember if Visenya told me that.”

The four members of the Hearing looked at each other, while his grandfather stared at him with pure anger.

Princess Rhaenyra started to talk but was interrupted by a hand on her shoulder, her husband and uncle now speaking, “Did Visenya write to someone?”

He pressed his lips together, “To her parents only. And to her brothers and siblings, but much more sporadically.”

He remembered Visenya writing on her desk, the calligraphy was precise and neat, her fingers never smudging the ink.

Prince Daemon smiled, the predatory smile that his mother swore he had when he killed someone, “So you don’t know that Visenya kept close contact with her brother, Jacaerys? They wrote once a week to each other.”

Once again, he furrowed his eyebrows, his lilac eye moving over the persons sitting in front of him, "I-I didn't know."

Rhaenyra looked at him, her lilac eyes void of emotion, "You don't know what my daughter did here. You don't know who her friends were. You don't know she wrote to her brother once a week. Tell me, Prince Aemond, what do you know?"

"I just know that I left my wife in our shared chambers in the morning five days ago, and she vanished," he quickly replied, his temper already showing. "We might have some differences, yes, but she's still my wife and responsibility, and -"

"A responsibility that you planned to shove away," Rhaenyra interrupted him, her tone cold and slightly shaky. "You planned to nullify your marriage to my daughter so that you could marry the new lady of Harrenhall."

It felt as if he had been punched, the air suddenly leaving his lungs and his eye moving to look at his grandfather, "I…" But what was left to say?

Rhaenyra stood and grabbed the papers, not minding him, addressing the guards, "You may bring her in."

He turned around when the doors opened, hoping to find his mother or his sister, someone to give him answers.

He certainly didn't expect Alys.

His lady walked into the room, clad into a dark green gown, her green eyes moving throughout the room. But she didn't look at him. Not once. Not even when she stood a few feet away from him.

"Alys Rivers. Soon to be Alys Strong. Repeat your words," was the order from Lord Corlys.

Alys took a deep breath, it looked like she was nervous, her hands fidgeting with her gown, but Aemond knew better: she was pretending, "Y-Yes, my Lord. I know that Prince Aemond Targaryen wanted his wife gone."

Liar. Traitor. Witch

"And how could possibly a woman of your…standing could be so close to the Prince," Rhaenyra asked, her tone filled with fake curiosity and superiority.

That made Alys press her lips together, a real sign that she was pissed, "I was close to him and-"

Somebody sighed and rumbled through the papers, "It states here that: 'Prince Aemond and I became closer during his stay at Harrenhall. First, I was his maid. Then, I became his lover. Our contact didn't cease even when he returned to Kings Landing, for he would visit me weekly. A moon ago he told me of his plan of leaving his wife and marrying me, that way he would become the new Lord of Harrenhall.' So…Lady Alys, is that true?"

For the first time since she entered, Aemond recognized the woman close to him - one full of resentment and bitterness, "Yes, your highness."

Rhaenyra stared at Alys, both pairs of eyes fixed on the other, a sort of unspoken threat in the former Crown Princess's eyes. A threat that the Strong bastard seemed to pick up quickly, since her whole demeanor returned to a submissive one, her head going down slowly.

A smirk appeared on Rhaenyra's face, a cold and calculating one, "Well…since that is clear, I want you to repeat your previous words, spoken to this Hearing earlier."

Alys swallowed and, for the first time since she had arrived, she turned her head slightly to look at Aemond, "Prince Aemond hated his wife and couldn't wait for her to be gone. My silence was bought with the threat of not legitimizing my birth."

Her voice turned firmer, "I realized I was being manipulated by him, it was all a plan so that he could earn a lordship easily."

“I had no way to turn against a Prince, I was his spoil of war. In Harrenhall I had no one that I could confide in or ask for help. His grip on me tightened when I revealed that I could see visions on the fire and…” she lowered her stare to the ground.

Traitor. Whore.

“And…?” Rhaenyra pressed, seeking an answer.

The dark-haired woman sniffed softly and straightened her back, “He asked me to perform a spell on her…one that prevented her from carrying a child.”

Chaos erupted in the room. Lords, ladies, servants screaming and talking in disbelief at the confession.

Aemond felt cold all of the sudden. The same sensation crawling up his spine like when he had returned from Storms End.

He could see his grandfather reaching for a chair, not being capable of staying on his feet for a minute longer.

Lord Jasper Wylde was white as a sheet, but his hand slammed the table several times, “Silence! Silence!”

Not many people obeyed. He could hear some insults thrown at him, there were people spitting on the floor, as if cursing him.

He turned his head to his left, his breath leaving his lungs as he watched his mother standing with her hands against her chest, tears falling from her eyes. It was her eyes that made him feel dizzy and sick.

You are not son of mine, they said.

Prince Daemon’s voice was heard, and that was all that it took for the people to calm down, “You may retire, Lady Alys.”

His former mistress turned around, walking towards the doors, not even sparing him a glance.

“Now, bring Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, Lady Reyne, and Princess Visenya’s maid, Rosey,” he commanded.

He had barely any time to react, his mind buzzing and his ears ringing, when his nephew and a young woman entered the room.

Clad in a Velaryon blue cape over a black and red riding gear, Jacaerys Velaryon did not even spare him a glance. Aemond gritted his teeth, even now the bastard thought himself more of a man than Aemond, a true born son.

The young woman beside him, wearing a simple servant dress and an apron over it, looked incredibly nervous, her hands playing with the fabric of her dress. 

The lady wife of Lord Reyne was wearing an ugly pink dress that looked like a huge cake giving the advanced state of her pregnancy, jewels sewn into her pronounced neckline, her brown hair twisted into some braids and a sour expression on her long face.

“Prince Jacaerys, reveal to the Prince what you have found,” commanded Daemon, a predatory smile on his face.

The oldest of Princess Rhaenyra’s sons stepped forward and raised a thick and worn out book, its cover black, “This is the diary of Princess Visenya Targaryen. In it my sister describes the entirety of her marriage to Prince Aemond…as well as the physical abuse to which she was subjected.”

More gasps from the court, more chills crawling up Aemond’s spine.

“Here is an entrance of a few months after-” Jacaerys interrupted himself, the words still hard to process. “After…Prince Lucerys death.”

Still, he continued, “In it the Princess wrote: ‘...when I finally mustered up the courage to mend the relationship with my husband and ask him to lay with me, to start trying to get pregnant, he laughed at me. I did not understand: I told him I had decided to put away the grief of the death of my dearest brother at his hands, so that we could return to our marital duties. He struck me. His hand went to my hair, tugging it so hard that it left a bruise on my scalp. Then he slapped me again before leaving the bedchamber. I stayed on the floor, the stone cold against my hot cheek.’”

“Here is another entry: ‘...the King called me a ‘whore, just like her mother’ during dinner. Nobody said anything to him. Not even my husband.’ And here is another: ‘...finally managed to get a dagger and a few hours of sleep a day. I need to be careful. There are so many people praying that I am gone.’ “

The court was in utter silence, no one daring to speak.

Jace closed the diary, “There are many more entries like that. But one thing is for sure: Visenya was being abused and her life was in danger.”

Daemon nodded, his hand grabbing his wife’s own, “Lady Reyne. Tell us.”

The woman in a pink dress stepped forward, her pointy chin tilted upwards defiantly, “The Princess told me how afraid she was of her husband, how he kicked her and slapped her. She also told me how she had found out about her husband’s plan to get rid of her and marry a mistress he had in Harrenhall. Apparently, he had been taking money from her dowry coffer to buy gifts for his mistress. He also was the one to order for her to be completely isolated.”

People started talking again, but that didn't seem to stop Daemon Targaryen, “Thank you, my Lady. Now, Rosie, please come forward.”

The trembling girl stepped forward, “W-What his highness, Prince Jacaerys tell us is true, my Prince. Wylla and I were the ones that cleaned up the bruises and cuts from the Princess. We bathed her bruised body and cleaned up her tears.”

The servant’s head raised and her brown eyes fixed on Aemond, her pale face filled with red spots, “You harmed my Princess, and even then, she asked you to try and mend things. My poor Lady still loved you, even though you hurt her, she longed for you.”

The memory of Visenya asking him to mend things came over him, her hands over his asking for a second opportunity.

Tears ran down the servant’s face, and Aemond did not need two eyes to see that every woman in there, and some men, were in the same state.

Still, the girl did not stop, “Princess Visenya asked that of you because she was with child.”

TAG LIST: @snh96 @neenieweenie @marihoneywk @tinykryptonitewerewolf @tired-night-owl

[valleyof-goldenlilies]

Se Zaldrizoti’ Prumia - Chapter 7: Father and Daughter (Daemon Targaryen x Tyrell!Reader)

Chapter 7: Father and Daughter

A hunt, a reunion, and a conflict. A normal day in Westeros then.

Se Zaldrīzoti' Prūmia Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | 

HOTD Masterlist | Main Masterlist | 

Warnings: Nothing of note, save for parental trauma and a notable lack of Daemon shenanigans.

Word Count: 5.8k words

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire and Blood characters, save for Y/N Tyrell, although I did expand on their characterisation, which might deviate from canon. All credit for the characters goes to George RR Martin and the showrunners of HOTD. The GIF above is also not mine, original credit to the creator is stated above. Go check them out! 

A/N: OH MY GOD IM ALIVE???? Yeah, it appears I am 😭 I'm so sorry about the long wait on this chapter, the past two weeks have been wild for me ever since I came back from my vacation. 1. My dad crashed his car? 2. I had like five projects due during the past two weeks and I had to write in a report and evaluation about my project groupmate who essentially did nothing 😐 if I could beat someone's ass without getting suspended, istg... 3. I've been suffering from a lot of chest pains recently, which kinda stopped me from doing my thing for a while 4. I had insane writers block for like a week and it was horrid 😖 but luckily, I'm back now, and hopefully updating more often! And also I've learnt that my classmate is following me on tumblr, I am a little mortified, but hello regardless. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! 💕 no Daemon cameo unfortunately, but he'll be back next chapter, and messier than ever.

lovely dividers credited to @firefly-graphics !

109 years after Aegon's Conquest

The doors to the room burst open, and you stepped in, a little out of breath. Lord Hobert Hightower and the Hand, who were standing closest to the doorway, were engrossed deep in conversation when you walked in, and you heard something along the lines of “It’s only a matter of time before Viserys names him heir.” You try not to frown at that, nodding politely to them before heading over to the crowd gathered over at the other side of the room, cooing at the heir in question: little Aegon, who was celebrating his second nameday. 

“Ah, Y/N!” Viserys exclaimed happily, gesturing for you to come and stand between him and Alicent, whose face was radiant with happiness. Viserys signalled for the wet nurse to step forward, and before you knew it, little Aegon was in your arms, babbling in that toddler frenzy of his. The assemblage of lords and ladies stepped closer to you, much to your discomfort, as you forced a cheerful smile and bounced Aegon up and down in your arms, which made him squeal with delight. “I fear that Aegon might come to see you as his mother sooner or late, Y/N, given how much he adores you.” Viserys claimed. You flush at his words, and Alicent soon steps in, smiling, “Tis true. Aegon always perks up when he’s in your arms.” You were sure you would melt into a puddle if you were subject to any more of their compliments. “You flatter me, Your Graces.” 

In the periphery of your vision, you saw Ser Tyland Lannister attempt to get Viserys’ attention, and you handed back a now fussing Aegon to his nursemaid. Alicent shuffled over to the feast table, and she smiled brightly as you approached. Placing a hand on her swollen belly, your heart fluttered with delight when you felt a slight kick. Though the horrors of childbirth still plagued your mind, being there for Alicent’s relatively smooth birth with Aegon had made your fears lessen a little. 

“How’s the babe?” you ask. “Only active when you’re here, it seems,” Alicent laughed. “They never seem to kick for anyone else other than you. I think they will adore you as much as Aegon does.” You chuckle, stroking Alicent’s belly gently. “What if the kicking is a sign that the babe will dislike me?” Alicent patted your hand, “Definitely not. I have no doubt in my mind that you will be dear to the babe.” she said with conviction. You blush at her words, “You flatter me, Your Grace.” 

“Can someone tell me where in the Seven Hells Rhaenyra might be?” Viserys’ frustrated bellow drew you and Alicent out of your tender moment. Alicent’s face twisted with worry, and you were sure your face was a mirror image of hers. “You came in later than the rest of us. Did you see Rhaenyra anywhere?” You shake your head glumly, “She wasn’t in her chambers, or her apartments.” Alicent sighed in exasperation, “Viserys has questioned nearly every courtier in the room, and not a single one of them has a clue. Where might she be?” You chewed your lip, thinking back to the snippet of conversation you had overheard between the Hand and Lord Hobert. “She’s upset right now. The two of you were…” You refrained from finishing the sentence when you saw Alicent wince. “Do you have any inkling on where she might go to cool off?” “I don’t belie-” A look of realisation dawned in Alicent’s eyes. “You know somewhere?” You ask her urgently. Alicent nodded, “I’ll go find her. You should stay and satiate yourself before the journey.” “Are you sure?” You ask her, concerned. Alicent squeezed your hand gently. “Don’t worry about me. I think I can get Rhaenyra to see reason.” 

You glance pensively at Alicent’s retreating figure. Sighing, you approached the refreshments table, smiling gratefully as a servant handed you a plate with some slices of roast pork. You heard your name being called, and turned around to find Viserys. “Your Grace-” you moved to curtsy, but Viserys stopped you, “I told you, no need for such stuffy courtesies when you are with me.” You smiled wryly, “I thought it wouldn’t apply in a room full of courtiers.” Viserys waved away your words, “You are my family, Y/N. There are no such constraints within your own kin.” You smile sadly at the word ‘family’. It was a little sad to say, but you definitely did feel more of a kinship with the current members of House Targaryen over those of your own house. 

“Speaking of kin,” Viserys’ voice turned serious. “I am in need of a favour from you, Y/N.” You snapped to attention. “Whatever you need, Viserys.” He sighed, looking mournful and irritated at the same time. “It has been nigh three years since I have wedded Alicent. Time after time, I have tried to approach Rhaenyra, but she shuns me away every single time. The rare chances she actually sits down and listens, she sulks like a child and only provides me with short responses.” Viserys sighed again, whatever sadness he had turning into disappointment and exasperation. “This is not the way the heir to the Iron Throne should behave.” He looked at you beseechingly, “I implore you, Y/N. I believe what Rhaenyra needs is for a motherly figure to talk to her, and persuade her to abandon such foolish antics. I fear Alicent would not be able to serve such a role, since Rhaenyra’s ire is directed at the both of us. But you,” You swallowed nervously. “I’ve seen how close Rhaenyra kept you after Aemma’s death. For months, apart from Alicent, you were her closest confidant. I know naught of what has transpired between the two of you, but I believe you to be the best person for this tiresome task. Will you do methis favour?” 

Your expression was resigned, but you forced out a smile nonetheless. “But of course. I will do my best, Viserys.” He closed his eyes in relief, clapping you on the shoulder. “I knew I could count on you, Y/N. Thank you.” You gave a tentative smile back, painfully aware of the numerous eyes glued to the both of you. What you failed to notice, however, were the heavy gazes of Otto and Hobert Hightower on you. 

An awkward silence weighed upon the royal wheelhouse as it made its way to the Kingswood. You glance uncomfortably between Viserys, Alicent, and Rhaenyra, watching with some pity as Viserys attempted to make conversation with his irascible and sullen daughter. A miniature dragon thrust in your face soon drew your attention however, and you looked down to frown admonishingly at little Aegon, who blinked his wide violet eyes at you innocently. The little devil, you were sure he was trying to garner your attention on purpose. Earlier, he had been weeping inconsolably, much to the nursemaid’s and Alicent’s distress. But when you had taken him into your arms, he had ceased his tears immediately and gave you a cherubic smile, which made Alicent give you a knowing smile and Rhaenyra to look at the both of you in disdain. The expression of disdain had yet to depart from Rhaenyra, as you played patiently with Aegon, flying his dragon miniature around him and smiling as the toddler spun his head around to follow the motions of the dragon with rapt fascination. 

The tension in the wheelhouse was not lightening in the slightest bit, as Viserys began talking about Rhaenyra giving him grandchildren, of all things. You had to stop yourself from groaning in exasperation. If Viserys truly wanted to reconnect with Rhaenyra again, why was he digging himself into an even bigger hole? He should know that after Aemma, Rhaenyra would be disinclined to entertain notions of childbirth. You wanted to put your head in your hands, but Aegon poked you in the cheek. 

“No one’s here for me!” Rhaenyra’s angry outburst halted all activity in the wheelhouse, including Aegon’s. You froze, looking up at Rhaenyra, but her bitter gaze was focused solely on her father. All of you endured the rest of the ride in silence. 

The rocking of the wheelhouse soon came to an end. You remained seated as Viserys and Alicent stepped out to the raucous cheers of the crowd, allowing Aegon’s nursemaid to take him from your arms. You remembered Viserys’ plea, and took in Rhaenyra’s wistful expression. “Hail, hail! Aegon the Conqueror babe, Second of His Name!” You grimace when you hear the tasteless remark. 

Rhaenyra’s fists were clenched at her sides, and her eyes were shut. With frustration, or with sadness, she didn’t know. Suddenly, she felt a gentle hand taking her fisted hand and unclenching it. She didn’t need to open her eyes to see who it was. “I don’t need your pity.” Rhaenyra tried to sound snappy, but her voice was hoarse. You didn’t answer, instead intertwining your fingers with Rhaenyra. She reluctantly opened her eyes, only to see you directing a hostile glare to the outside commotion, as more and more voices heralded Aegon as the Second of His Name. Rhaenyra couldn’t help but smile at that, letting some of the tension seep out of her muscles. 

At least there was someone in her dark and lonely corner, even if that someone’s trustworthiness had yet to be ascertained. 

You were sitting next to Alicent, as she held court with the various noble ladies who had attended the hunt. You listened, silently sipping from your goblet as they conversed about the ongoing war in the Stepstones. You watched as Larys Strong and Rhaenyra soon joined in the conversation, though a slight frown of distaste was soon visible on your face, when Lady Lannister and Lady Redwyne in particular, began picking on Rhaenyra. You had to hide a smirk when Rhaenyra made a well-directed jab at Lady Redwyne, and the smirk only widened when you saw her pig-faced dog gobble greedily at the cake on her plate. How fitting. 

“You know, Lady Y/N.” Your head snapped up as Lady Redwyne addressed you. She had a displeased look on her face: clearly she hadn’t missed your smirk at her expense. “I was…pleasantly surprised to hear Her Grace appointed you as her chief lady-in-waiting.” Your eyes narrowed, your dormant prickly nature coming to life once more. “It was a great honour, Lady Joselyn. One that I am greatly grateful to Her Grace for.” 

Lady Redwyne gave you a smile, that you knew from all your years of court politics, was filled with ill intent. “I must say, if you were out in the battlefield fighting on the Stepstones, the war would be won by now.” You felt Alicent stiffen next to you, and you instinctively reached out to put your hand on hers. “What are you insinuating, Lady Redwyne?” Alicent’s tone was sharper than usual. Lady Redwyne attempted to school her features back to deference, but her lips were curved upwards. “Forgive me, Your Grace. I was not attempting to insinuate anything. It was a compliment to Lady Y/N.” You levelled a fierce glare at her, but she seemed unaffected, looking at you straight in the eye. “It is a well known fact that she and Prince Daemon had tempers that rivalled each other. With such willfulness, she would make a formidable opponent on the battlefield, would she not?” 

You were about to deliver an equally cutting and backhanded response, but you were surprised when you heard Rhaenyra speak up once more, “Yes, Lady Redwyne. But as luck would have it, she is the Queen’s lady-in-waiting now.” Rhaenyra’s tone was acidic. “And I am certain that she will carry out her duties with skill and grace. The Queen will not be able to find someone as capable as her.” 

The ladies were stunned that Rhaenyra had spoken up for you, none more so than you and Alicent. “The princess is right. Lady Y/N has been a dutiful lady-in-waiting and companion. The Seven have truly blessed me with her.” Your eyes water with gratitude, as Lady Redwyne and the other ladies fall silent after both the princess and the queen’s swift defence of you.

So this was what kinship felt like. 

Night had fallen, and the air was ablaze with the smell of smoke. You had sat faithfully by Alicent all day, as she entertained lords and ladies alike. You had not seen Rhaenyra in quite some time though, and you worry about where she could have wandered off to. Your anxiety only increased tenfold when you saw Viserys’ goblet never straying from his hand, and he had been lifting it to his lips moreso after his conversations with the Hand, Jason Lannister, and Lyonel Strong, in particular. Alicent was clearly on edge as well, her brown eyes watchful as she witnessed her husband lose himself in his cups. When Viserys abruptly left the tent after a brief, yet intense conversation with Lyonel Strong, Alicent got up to go after him, but you gently pushed her back down to her seat, giving her a reassuring look. She should not need to see her husband in such a misbegotten state, while in her pregnancy, you thought to yourself, as you wrapped your shawl around you, shivering in the cold night air. 

You eventually found Viserys by the huge bonfire, downing yet another goblet of wine, while being guarded by two Kingsguard. They nodded at you as you passed. You went straight to Viserys, taking the cup whilst he was distracted. “I think that’s enough for you tonight, Viserys.” Your voice was soft, yet firm. He gave you an enervated smile. “The night is cold, you shouldn’t be out here.” You hand the goblet over to a Kingsguard. “Who will look after you, then? And make sure you do not drink yourself into a stupor?” Viserys laughed heartily, before he coughed. You reach for him, concerned. He stared into the flames, looking like he wanted to step into them himself. “Y/N.” “Hmm?” Viserys took a deep breath, trying to control the slurring in his voice. “What do you think is the foundation of House Targaryen’s strength?” 

You tilt your head to the side questioningly, “That is a trick question, right? Of course, the answer is House Targaryen’s dragons.” Viserys smiled ruefully, turning over to face you. You were taken aback by the blazing intensity, perhaps even madness in his eyes. “You’re wrong, Y/N. It began with a dream.” He turned back to face the fire. “When Daenys the Dreamer had the dream that prophesied the end of the Valyrian Freehold, that dream saved House Targaryen. While all the other dragonlords were destroyed, it was only us who survived.” “I know of that tale. Your grandsire told us that tale when we were younger.” 

Viserys didn’t seem to hear you, however, his bleak gaze still on the fire. “In my line, many had been dragonriders. Very few among us have been dreamers. What is the power of dragons, next to the power of prophecy?” You shivered, and not because of the cold. Yet you continue listening. “When Rhaenyra was a child, I saw it in a dream. As vivid as these flames, I saw it. A male babe, born to me, wearing the Conqueror’s crown. And I so wanted it to be true, to be a dreamer myself. I sought that vision again, night after night…but it never came again. I poured all my thought and will into it. And my obsession killed Aemma.” You looked away at that, your heart wrenched with grief.  “I thought Rhaenyra was the way out of my abyss of grief and regret. That naming her heir would set things right.” 

“Are you saying you regret naming Rhaenyra heir then?” Viserys looked grieved. “Oftentimes, yes…I have. I worried that I had named Rhaenyra out of anger towards Daemon, not out of love, or for the good of the realm.” He moved to grip your shoulders, tears in his eyes. “Y/N, I never imagined that I would remarry. That I would have a son. What if…what if I was wrong all along?” 

You stared into his despair-filled eyes. “I cannot tell you if you’re wrong, Viserys. There are only two paths ahead of you now, and as King, you must be prepared to take one, and soon.” Viserys chuckles, drooping his head. “What if I’m not sure what path I should take?” Your voice was quiet. “Then the realm will descend into chaos.” 

The both of you were silent, staring at each other in the firelight. While you couldn’t say that you approved of Viserys’ decisions in the past three years, after all this, he was your friend, and he was just a mere mortal, plagued by regrets, grief, and hesitation. Just like you, and everyone else. Even kings were not infallible to weakness, you surmised. And in that moment, there was a mutual understanding and grievance shared between the both of you: the burden of choice. 

The morrow brought about clear skies and sun, much to the delight of the lords partaking in the hunt. It did not alleviate your worries however, as Rhaenyra still had not returned to the encampment. You found yourself milling about today, much too tired to suffer the thinly veiled jabs the fellow noblewomen were directing at you about your infamous temper. 

You were dressed in a simpler riding outfit today, to mingle around with the various smallfolk and merchants that had set up stalls in the encampment, hoping eagerly to attract some lord’s attention and earn a few gold dragons. You beamed as you sampled a rather delicious roast pork skewer, giving the stall owner - a rather plump woman - two golden dragons, much to her glee. You strode back to the main tent, feeling satisfied, when you suddenly heard the sound of hooves. You turned your head as a palomino horse skidded to a halt, and a familiar man, with more grey hairs than he had the last time you saw him, dismount from the horse and take off his riding gloves. His eyes light up as soon as he catches sight of you, and without giving you a window to escape, he strode towards you. You chew your lip in dread as he approached. 

“Father.” 

“Y/N.” He beams at you, his eyes crinkled at the corners. You smile awkwardly at him, fidgeting with your fingers. His smile falters a little when he notices your hesitation. “I haven’t seen you in years, daughter. Does this momentous occasion not warrant a hug?” You inwardly sigh, and reach out to embrace your father. Your father grins at you as you pull away after an awkward pause. “You have grown, daughter. You look beautiful.” “You flatter me, Father.” “Come, walk with me. We have much to talk about.” You swallowed, but followed as he set out for the forested edge of the campground. 

The both of you strode in silence for a while, before you ventured to break the silence. “The King didn’t mention you would be joining us for the hunt, Father. Why the sudden change of heart?” He sighed. “Can an old man not choose to be in nature once in a while?” “Of course you can, father. I was just concerned: you are no longer in the pink of health, and riding all the way from Highgarden to the Kingswood is a gruelling journey.” Your father waved his hand dismissively. “Twas nothing. I might be getting on in my years, but I recently found a new source of reinvigoration.” 

“Oh?” you cocked your head curiously. You sincerely hoped the new source of reinvigoration was not a new bid for your hand. Your father smiled, “I recently remarried to Lady Clarice of House Fossoway.” Seeing your confused look, he hurried to clarify. “Of Cider Hall.” Surprise creased your features. “But…wasn’t that Mother’s maiden house? Lady Clarice was her cousin, was she not?” Your father’s smile was beginning to look strained. “Does it matter, daughter? What matters is that I am happy with her, is it not? And I am certain she will give me strong sons soon.” You regard him with a degree of caution, noting the shift in his voice. In your years of dealing with court politics, you could instinctively tell when a situation was about to go from bad to worse. “I did not know you had any plans on remarrying after Mother’s death.” 

“And whose fault is that, daughter?” Your father’s tone turned chiding. “I know you’ve been ignoring all the ravens I’ve sent to you over the past few years. Specifically, those with letters attached from me pleading for you to just find yourself a match at court or select one of the eligible lords in the lists I sent you.” You blushed, looking sheepish. Matthos sighed. “Daughter, you are no longer young. It is past time you are wed. I only want what’s best for you.” 

“But-” you blurted out, “What if I don’t think getting married is what’s best for me, Father?” Your father looked askance at that. “What else could a young lady such as yourself desire other than marriage?” You bit your lip, “Father, the truth is…I do not think I have a desire to wed now…or ever.” You were beginning to get anxious as your father’s face lost some of his paternal tenderness. “Five years. I had hoped that our time apart had given you some time to reflect on your…misconceptions.” He gripped your shoulders, an intense blaze in his eyes as your heart began to thud with dread. “The matter of marriage is not one that you can dismiss so easily anymore, Y/N. It entails the survival and future of House Tyrell. You must do your duty and wed a respectable lord, for the sake of our house.” Though you had heard those words aplenty, today, it was like something uninhibited had seized control of you, as you burst out. “Why should I care about doing my duty to House Tyrell?” you snapped. “I have made it clear that it is not my intention to ever take a husband, now and in the foreseeable future. You claim this is all done for my own happiness. So why can’t you just respect my wishes?” 

“Because you are not just some poxy peasant who can gallivant about as you please. You are my daughter!” You were shocked when your father suddenly raised his voice. Trepidation had dimmed your previous righteousness. He tightens his grip on your shoulders, his expression filled with an anger you had never glimpsed before. This…this was not the father you remember. The father you knew had never once raised his voice at you, always treating you with patience as his only child. Though he was prone to bouts of frustrated pleading when you did not acquiesce to his wishes to get married, he had never once shouted at you like that. Or even gripped your shoulders with such forcefulness you feared he might strike you. “You are just as useless as your late mother.” You were stunned, your eyes searing with hot tears. “Do not insult Mother like that. She was the most wonderful woman-” “Wonderful, you say?” your father snorted. “If she were so wonderful, then she would have provided me with a strong and healthy son to succeed me! Instead, she left me with a daughter who is ungrateful and strangely determined to remain a spinster all her life.” he spat out the words with such vitriol that you were taken aback. “If she were so wonderful,” your father continued with his rant. “Then would House Tyrell be in imminent danger of collapsing, all because the only heirs I have are your incompetent, doltish cousins who will run the legacy our ancestors and I have built to the ground?” He moved to clasp your hand tightly in his, looking desperate and angry all at once. “Daughter, your father is imploring you. You must get wed, and provide me with a grandson. You cannot let House Tyrell go to ruin.” You stare at him, feeling beleaguered. “Do my wishes mean nothing to you?” “This is because your wishes are obscenely unreasonable, Y/N.” your father snaps. “It is practically unheard of for a woman of your status to not wed.” “It is not!” you insisted, “I am the chief lady-in-waiting to the Queen now, I have duties I must perform. And there have been histories of lords whose daughters were largely spinsters. Moreover, you have remarried.” Your voice became desperate as you tried to make your father see reason. “Lady Clarice is young, she will give you many sons in due time. Suitable heirs to Highgarden. I do not understand why you are putting all this pressure on me.” You took a deep breath, preparing to make your final stand. “I want to enjoy the rest of my youth, Father. Not to sit in a castle, entrapped in a loveless marriage and pumping out potential heirs for my husband and for you. I want to live my life, free of constraints.” You looked at him, unshed tears in your eyes. “Please, father. This is the one thing I have ever asked of you, and that is to respect my wishes.” 

Matthos was silent for a long while, and you held hope, briefly, that you might have gotten through to him with your pleading. “Foolish, insolent girl!” Your hopes were dashed as your father flung off your hand, shouting at you. “How can you be so selfish? To not take responsibility in ensuring the continuation of our house’s line?” “That is your responsibility, not mine!” you shouted back. Seeing that pleas would not get to your father now, you resorted to fighting fire with fire instead. “Had you really cared about continuing our house’s bloodline, you would’ve remarried years ago!” You could see how your shouts were drawing the attention of some courtiers, given how close the both of you were to the camp for royals. You heard the faint sound of hooves behind you, but you ignored them, too engrossed in your argument with your father. “Producing heirs is a lord’s responsibility. So if you are accusing me of not doing my duty, you should first be reprimanding yourself.” 

Your father’s face grew red. “You little brat! How dare you say these things about your father!” “I spoke only the truth,” you shot back. He raised his hand, and for a moment you were afraid he was going to slap you for your outburst. Instead, he went to grip your shoulders again, “For years, I have raised you, clothed you in the finest silks, fed you, and put up with your ridiculous whims and wants! I’ve been patient, I’ve been loving and understanding when you rejected all the marriage offers you received. I’ve pleaded, and even given you the time and freedom to find a more suitable match at court. Yet you cannot even perform your duty as my daughter. No longer.” Your heart stuttered a little. “What do you mean?” Your father gave you a cold look. “I’m saying, if you do not get married by the end of the year, you are no longer my daughter.” Your eyes widen with horror. “I will effectively disown and disinherit you from House Tyrell, and if I sire any children by Lady Clarice, they shall not support you either.” 

Your voice was tremulous, “Father, you…you cannot be serious. Do not let your anger cloud your judgement.” Matthos Tyrell looked at his daughter, his face one of disgust. “You wanted to enjoy your youth without constraints. And since you seem to enjoy being lady-in-waiting to the Queen so much, I’m only granting you what you wished for, am I not?” 

You stepped back, feeling winded by your father’s words. However, you nearly jumped when you felt a familiar hand on your shoulder. “Ah, Y/N!” You were not sure whether you felt more mortified or relieved for Viserys’ timely presence. “Your Grace!” Immediately, your father’s distaste gave way to deference, as he straightened his posture and bowed before the King. You inclined your head respectfully, wondering if Viserys had overheard your conversation. “Forgive me for interrupting your conversation.” Oh, he definitely overheard. 

“There’s nothing to forgive, Your Grace. I am delighted to be in your presence.” Your father gushed on profusely, as Viserys stepped toward him. You hung your head, still abashed by your father’s threats, when you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder once more. Alicent smiled at you understandingly, and you grimaced when you realised she had also overheard the unpleasant exchange. Still, you shot her a grateful look for her show of support. 

“I must offer you my sincerest felicitations for Prince Aegon’s second nameday, Your Grace.” Viserys laughed, “Your felicitations are greatly appreciated, Lord Matthos. I must extend you mine as well, for your recent remarriage. I see it is treating you well.” Your father beamed, “You are too kind, Your Grace. And indeed, my lady wife pleases me so. Now, the only thing that would make me the happiest man in the realm would be my daughter finally settling down with a respectable match.” You stiffened at that, something Alicent took notice of, and she offered you a sympathetic look. Viserys chuckled, “That you and I can both agree on, Lord Matthos. There is nothing more I desire right now than seeing Rhaenyra being wed to a deserving man who will treat her right.” 

“Oh, I am sure Her Grace will have her pick of men. She is ‘The Realm’s Delight’, after all. Any man who weds her will be a lucky one.” Your father’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial tone, as he glanced at you. “Moreover, Her Grace is young, comely, and lovely to behold.” Matthos sighed, shaking his head as he chuckled, “Mine own daughter is not in possess of such qualities, I’m afraid. She is getting on with her years, and though I love her deeply, as her father, I must admit she has quite a temper on her. She's not quite the attractice match, which gives me a headache,” Matthos jested with the King, causing you to wince and look away. Alicent looked disconcerted at your father’s tasteless jesting, tightening her hold on your shoulder. However, the both of you did not notice the flare of annoyance behind Viserys’ eyes, so his next words surprised the both of you. 

“Lady Y/N has been nothing but a delight to have at court, Lord Matthos. In spite of her age, I’m sure she has no shortage of suitors.” Viserys’ voice was amiable, polite, yet it carried an undertone of firmness and reprimand such that Matthos looked a little stunned, worried that he had overstepped. You looked back to the pair, your eyes wide with disbelief. “And should Y/N ever find herself unwilling to marry, the Red Keep will always welcome her. She is like family to me, after all.” Your father fell silent, and you locked eyes with Viserys, looking lost, yet appreciative all the same. Viserys gave you a reassuring smile, and you could see the sincerity behind his intent. Your eyes prickled with touched tears, but the moment was interrupted when you heard shouts across the campground, startling your party. You turned around, only to behold the sight of Rhaenyra, stained head to toe with dried blood, a commanding aura in her swagger as her sworn shield, Ser Criston, trailed behind her, along with two servants carrying a dead boar. You lock eyes with her momentarily, and she gives a small nod of acknowledgement to you, although her eyes turned cold when they looked upon her father. You heard Viserys sigh, and you saw how Viserys looked both annoyed and relieved for Rhaenyra’s safety, while your father just looked bewildered, perhaps even a little scared. Despite yourself, you smiled a little at the scene. 

Alicent and you were chatting in her chambers, laughing in hushed tones as you rocked Aegon to sleep in your arms, when the Hand entered the room, requesting to speak with Alicent. You handed a sleepy Aegon to his nursemaid, before curtsying and exiting the room, painfully aware of the Hand’s weighty gaze upon you as you did. 

Alicent knew that her father had not visited her out of a gesture of goodwill, and as she listened to his rather maddening reasoning that Alicent should attempt to make her husband see reason and name Aegon heir, she only stayed silent. There was no point in countering back anyway - the Hand always seemed to have a dozen other reasons to quell her opposition. She felt uncomfortable, for speaking of this was treason, and the babe shifted in her belly, causing her to sigh. 

Otto observed his daughter, noting with mild exasperation that she wasn’t paying heed to anything he was saying. So, he decided to change the subject. “About your lady-in-waiting…” he began. Alicent’s head snapped up, “What do you wish to discuss of Y/N?” Otto let a smile play over his lips: it was quite evident his daughter cared for the Tyrell lady, and from his further observations over the past three years, treated her akin to a maternal figure. Which might make it easier for her to accept what he proposed next. “I overheard a rather…interesting conversation she had, with Lord Matthos today.” Alicent showed no visible reaction, but she stared at her father, feeling an all-too-familiar feeling of dread settle in her gut. “I think half the campground overheard their argument. What of it?” 

Otto hummed softly, “It seems her father is worrying about her marriage. Which is a reasonable worry - she is on the cusp of her twenty fifth nameday, is she not?” Alicent nodded slowly, eyeing her father with caution. She knew him all too well, how he was tapping his fingers on the armrests of his chair - he was scheming. She recalled how upset you were when you spoke with your father, citing your dreams to enjoy your youth and be freed of the constraints of marriage. In later years, she had come to both see you as a cherished companion and a parental figure of sorts, and she cared for you, deeply so. You were her only source of comfort in the Red Keep, one who did not expect or demand anything of her, someone she felt she could truly be open with. She glanced fearfully at her father. 

She had to put an end to this. She must save you from suffering the same fate she did. 

“Father…you are not planning on taking a new wife, are you?” Alicent fidgeted with her fingers nervously, her eyes fixed on Otto. He was quiet for a long while, and in response to her question, he only stood up and went over to his daughter, placing a hand on her swollen belly. His cryptic answer disturbed Alicent. “You worry too much over matters that do not need worrying about, daughter. Your concern now, should be Aegon. Raise him well, and raise him strong. He shall be an important man one day.”

Come the morrow, the Godswood was completely devoid of any life. Which proved to be a boon to you, who was seeking some reprieve from the busy atmosphere of the Red Keep and the somewhat maddening task of having to feed Aegon -  due to his tendency of smooshing the food in the face of whomever had the misfortune of feeding him, most commonly you. 

You sat on the stone bench, staring despondently at the Godswood tree. While you were never particularly religious, either to the Seven or to the Old Gods, the happenings of the hunt have driven you to pray with increasing fervency these days. What you prayed for, you did not know. Was it for the hope that your father’s heart might soften and he might be persuaded to leave you be for the rest of your life? You scoffed to yourself, knowing how improbable it was. Fiddling with the pendant - Aemma’s pendant, you sighed, tilting your head downwards to the ground. 

You were startled when you heard movement next to you, of another soul taking a seat next to you on the bench, her posture ramrod straight, and her expression blank. Rhaenyra’s linen sleeves fluttered slightly in the breeze. 

“I suppose neither of us are in the best of spirits,” Rhaenyra’s voice was stilted, like she was reluctant to break the silence first. You lifted your head upright, looking at her with a tentative smile, “No, I suppose we aren’t.” An awkward silence highlighted the chasm between the two of you. You wondered, had this truly been the girl of fourteen who confided in you about everything? Now, it seems there is a stark contrast to the Rhaenyra you once knew to the Rhaenyra before you. Though of course, you were to be blamed for that. 

“My father has just ordered me to embark on a tour of the realm. A marriage tour.” Rhaenyra’s bitter tone roused you from your thoughts. “I do not know why I’m telling you this. Perhaps it’s because you are the only person in the Keep who might have the slightest sympathy for what I’m going through.” Rhaenyra’s voice lowered to a slightly malicious pitch, but there was no disguising the hurt behind her voice. “Or maybe it would be false sympathy. But it is better than none.” 

You winced, wanting to reach out and take Rhaenyra’s hand, the way you knew she loved. Physical touch was Rhaenyra’s favourite way of receiving and expressing affection. A wane smile pulled at your lips as you heard her words, “You might be cynical, but I have more sympathies to your plight than you might think, Princess.” Rhaenyra was surprised by the resignation in your tone. She recalled the scene she had seen when she returned to the royal encampment at the hunt that day. “...does it have something to do with your father?” 

You let out a sad laugh, “Indeed. I have been forced into a situation much more precarious than yours, I would say. My father has given me an ultimatum: I must wed by the end of this year, or I shall be effectively disinherited and disowned as a member of House Tyrell.” Rhaenyra’s eyes widened, her stance immediately shifting to one of sympathy and guilt. “Does your father jest?” “I’m afraid not,” you remark with a despaired, cynical laugh, “Father’s patience has worn thin when it comes to me, I’m afraid. I should’ve known it foolish to think that I could escape from the ramifications of duty to my House.” 

You were a little mortified to find your eyes prickling with tears. In truth, you were frightened to the bone. Two paths were set in stone before you now, and neither were pleasant. Rhaenyra hesitated for a while, before reaching out to take your hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. You were startled by her sudden gesture, as the flood of familiarity rushed through your veins. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, “This is a horrible situation to find yourself in.” She looked hesitant, “I know you’ve always been of your own mind, Y/N. I just want you to know…that you are not alone. Should the worst come…I’m sure that my father will not turn you away in your hour of need.” Her lips turned upwards wistfully, “I will not too. The both of us are stuck in similar predicaments, are we not? Daughters forced to marry off at our father’s behest. We must stick together.” 

“...thank you,” you said quietly, touched, “I do not deserve your kindness, after all I have hidden from you.” Rhaenyra’s smile turns somewhat bitter, “What is done cannot be undone. What matters now is the future.” 

The cool metal of Aemma’s pendant dug into the flesh of your palm, as an idea came to you. “I have something for you,” Rhaenyra’s eyebrows shot up and her eyes grew misty as you presented the ruby falcon pendant to her. “I think this belongs to you. I’ve been holding onto it for the past few years, but I think it’s time you have it back.” Rhaenyra takes the pendant, clasping it to her chest as she looked mournfully down at it. “I thought it was naught but ashes now.” You bit your lip, seeing how relieved yet pained Rhaenyra looked made you regret not giving it to her sooner. You had clung onto it for selfish reasons over the past few years, unwilling to let go of Aemma. But now, you felt it was time to let go of the past, and brave on into the future. “I hope that having this piece of Aemma would make you feel more comforted on your marriage tour.” 

Rhaenyra’s eyes were misty, as she clasped the pendant like it was worth all the spice and gold from the shores of Essos. “Y/N.” Rhaenyra said quietly. “Hmm?” “Do you think…that Mother would’ve been proud of the person I am today?” Rhaenyra swallowed, looking downcast. “...I fear that, ever since I was named heir, since…Aegon was born, Father’s disappointment in me has been growing by the day.” “And why would you think that?” you asked, concerned. Rhaenyra took a shaky inhale, “I know that Father did not name me heir out of choice. It was a critical time, after Daemon had left, and the Realm would be plunged into unease upon the disinheritance of my uncle from the line of succession.” She bit her lip. “Father even told me as much. He said he had wavered at the notion of making me heir.” Your eyes flickered with shock and a little bit of righteous anger. “He said that?” Rhaenyra nodded miserably, and you patted her sympathetically on the shoulder. “He told me he would never waver again, but it is a little hard to put my faith in that, with….with Aegon’s shadow looming over me.” Rhaenyra sighed, tilting her head upwards. ”I just…I wish I could do something to be better. To prove to Father that I’m not just the right choice to the throne because he named me heir when he had no choice. I want to show him that I possess the qualities to rule the throne. The marriage tour would be a start, but I just detest the idea of having to bind myself to some lord to prove my worthiness to the throne.” 

“I understand how you feel,” you commiserated, and she rested her head on your shoulder. “The expectations of a woman’s duty often cast a shadow over our lives.” Rhaenyra closed her eyes, feeling at ease with you, even if it were just for a brief moment. “Mother was fond of saying that marriage is a woman’s duty, and childbed is our battlefield. Especially as royal women,” Rhaenyra’s voice was thick with emotion. “I understand I must do this, for the good of the realm, but…why is it so terrifying? To have my worth determined on my husband and the number of children I can bear in service to him and the realm.” The setting sun glistened off a tear slowly making its way down Rhaenyra’s cheek. “Y/N, do you think my mother would be proud, watching me doubt her teachings?” 

You reached out to wipe her tear away, your other hand’s thumb gently stroking her hand that you still held. “You are her daughter, Rhaenyra. I have no doubt that you could be the most dastardly miscreant, and she would be proud of you nonetheless.” That got a bleak smile from Rhaenyra, “Truly?” You nodded your confirmation, smiling fondly down at her. “Truly. Though luckily, your moral character is rather upright.” Rhaenyra laughed, and you smiled, happy to have made her laugh. “Thank you, Y/N. Truly. You have no idea how much that means to me.” Rhaenyra whispered to you.  

The two women stayed like this in the Godswood for a while, each swarmed by their own thoughts. So different, yet so similar in their impending doom, and duty.

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A/N: All I gotta say is: ruh roh, trouble is brewing. If you have made it this far, thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed this chapter, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated. I aim to release chapter 8 by next Wednesday, hopefully something unprecedented doesn't happen before then though.

[gwenllian-in-the-abbey]

Finally an update! Here is a little tease for chapter 9 of our bookverse fic, written by @aifsaath and I.

“The realm was at peace when he died. I took the throne, and war started.” His voice broke as he spoke the secret fear that had burrowed its way into his heart. “Perhaps it shouldn’t have been me. Perhaps I should have given myself up, offered Rhaenyra my head. She might have spared Hel and the children then. What use was I? Perhaps if I’d—” He blinked, his vision blurry. So many times he’d wished for death. When he was hazy with wine. When he embraced a lover he’d never love. When his father’s hot breath whispered in his ear, “what good are you, boy?” When he’d lain abed, burned and broken, his body awash with pain. Better to never have been born.  Better to have died.  “If you’d what, Aegon?” His mother took his face between her hands. “Would you have me mourn another child?” “Wouldn’t it have been a worthy exchange? Perhaps Aemond—” “Aemond!” His mother gave a sharp, harsh laugh. “Is that what you think? Aemond would have seen this entire realm burn before he would have married Daemon’s daughter for peace.”  Her hands gentled, tracing along his scarred side. “My darling boy, do you have any idea how much I feared to lose you? It began long before you ever donned armor and flew to battle.” “But it would have been better,” he whispered. “I am like father. He was never meant to be king, the court always said. And they said I was lazy. A glutton. No warrior, not like Aemond. Not the heir like Rhaenyra. Not a diplomat, like Daeron. Just a wastrel. Nothing.”

[2rats1gogh]

House of the dragon 2x02 very much redeemed the awful execution of Blood and Cheese in 2x01

The dialogue in this new episode was absolutely phenomenal. The scene of Aegon going batshit crazy after the death of his son was fantastic. I literally had chills. Tom carried the whole episode. I felt his rage with every atom of my body.

That whole sequence of the council meeting was 10/10. The way different people react to this awful tragedy, the way Alicent is heartbroken and feels guilty (although I wish they went in the direction of Helaena feeling guilty instead but whatever), Otto being very rational about everything, Aegon just being full of rage and despair. GORGEOUS.

I was a little disappointed with the way Aemond didn’t seem to care all that much. The scene in the brothel was alright, but it seemed off to me that he seemed to care more about the fact that the assassins were sent by Daemon to kill him, rather than grieving the death of his nephew. He literally showed more emotions when Luke died which is weird💀💀

I also wasn’t the biggest fan of the show’s excessive focus on Alicole. Don’t get me wrong but it just seems so out of character for Alicent to hook up with Criston soon after the death of her grandson, instead of comforting Helaena and Aegon who are grieving the loss of their child. That scene at the end was very weird and kind of unnecessary (again).

The dialogue between Rhaenyra and Daemon was surprisingly very good and emotional, and I am saying this as a team green supporter. I was even surprised that I started feeling bad for Rhaenyra. She has such a shitty husband, it’s actually pretty sad. At least she is starting to acknowledge it now, that she is more grown up and mature. Oh and I fucking hate Daemon, can’t wait to see him die. What a disgusting pathetic fucking asshole.

Their dialogue was fantastic, and felt super realistic, believable, and easy to follow and understanding. I loved it!!

The funeral scene… Chills. Literal, actual fucking chills. When they showed Jaehaerys’ little corpse with his head sewed back to his neck… My heart stopped for a moment here 😭😭😭😭 And Otto organizing that whole thing just to exploit the grief of Alicent and Helaena. Jesus. I don’t even know how to feel. It makes sense, and it was a good political move, but my heart breaks for Helaena especially.

At least it was shown that she is beloved by the smallfolk, which is accurate. Sure, she may not have needed that and preferred to grieve alone, but at least these people weren’t interrupting the funeral, like it seemed in the trailer.

Aegon punishing Blood was 1000/10 although I wish we had seen more of this. And him killing all the ratcathers… well, sad, of course, but can we really blame a grieving father? At least Cheese is dead. Although Otto was right, this is definitely gonna backfire.

Criston… Yeah, um. I guess that’s just how it is. Bro is projecting so hard onto everyone, jeez. Not a big fan of that, but it is what it is, and it’s kind of book accurate if i’m not misremembering anything?

Arryk and Erryk death scene was devastatingly sad tho. Absolutely horrible.

Overall, I’d say the execution of Blood and Cheese was horrible IMO, the way the consequences of it were shown was an easy 10/10. No complaints here.

[dwellordream]

thoughts on HOTD, episode 5, season 2 (spoilers below)

I think the scene of Meleys being paraded through the streets was well done. It captured the sheer magnitude of a dragon's death to smallfolk who have never seen a dragon die in battle, and certainly not in battle so near to home. I like that we see some of the smallfolk hesitantly bowing reverently to the severed head, while others decry the Greens for it, and others still begin to realize that dragons are simply animals which can be butchered with enough force.

I'm glad they didn't wimp out on Aegon's burns. Probably they could have gone even gnarlier, but I have hope we will see them bring back Viserys' mask from season 1. And it shows us how quickly Criston reverts to arrogant contempt when he feels threatened- he can't even admit to Alicent how badly he fucked up, and now that she's distanced herself from him, he wants to grind her underfoot as much as he did Rhaenyra.

The Brackens openly goading Daemon- and Daemon threatening to burn them, then belatedly realizing he can't afford to for PR reasons, then trying to pawn it off on the Blackwoods- who seem fully willing to war-crime it up, so I'm glad they're not being portrayed as the Noble Heroic Victims threatened by those Evil Andal Brackens- is so Daemon-core. He is pathetic. He's always been pathetic.

Some of my friends have been theorizing that the show, in an effort to play up the Jace - Robb parallels, may actually keep Jace alive longer in an effort to build up his character. So I could totally see them having him survive the Gullet- maybe switching him and Joffrey's deaths- and having him perish after Rhaenyra has taken King's Landing, while trying to prevent the mob from descending on the Dragonpit. (I am not the first person to think of this, BTW, but I'd be excited if they did that- Joffrey is basically a nonentity.)

I'm aware a lot of Targaryen fans loathed the Daemon/Alyssa hallucination, but like, come on. Daemon projecting his Ideal Valyrian Woman fantasy onto the dead mother he never knew is a step too far? Really? it makes perfect sense for him. Daemon wants the fantasy of the 'perfect match' with a fiery, proud Targaryen woman- but in reality, he can't cope with the daily conflicts and compromises of a marriage with anyone, even the most biddable woman. He would never be content with the title of 'consort' in the long-run. Anyone who seriously thinks he and Rhaenyra would have had a long and stable marriage after she won the Iron Throne is kidding themselves. Daemon loves her, but that's not enough.

Alys' concern for the smallfolk surprised me a bit, but I'm not upset by it. It gives her more nuance than just 'evil scheming smallfolk witch' and sets her up as a foil for Mysaria, only 'counseling' Daemon with hauntings. At the same time, her hauntings are convincing Daemon that no one will respect him unless he makes a name for himself as a brutal sole ruler- one who is willing to do what Rhaenyra won't, slowly dooming him.

I don't find it OOC for Baela to refuse Driftmark- she was raised with the expectation she would someday be queen, obviously that's what she wants and desires. However, it would have been nice to see her suggest that Corlys offer Driftmark to Rhaena instead, even if we know Corlys is highly unlikely to agree with that- Rhaena has no dragon and is stereotyped as more 'soft' and 'feminine' than her twin.

I like the subplot with Hugh the Hammer. I'm glad they're not portraying him as a dimwitted thug, the way Fire & Blood does. He has valid reasons to want to secure power to protect his family and drag them out of poverty, and I hope they don't suddenly pivot to him turning evil the second he gains a dragon.

I feel like I genuinely don't have as much to say about this episode; it went by pretty fast, and it felt a bit fillery at times. That said, I still enjoyed it, and I'd give it a decent 8/10.

[chrkrose]

Okay so just a rando ask, I was reading through the posts on your page,, and I came to thinking

If daemon truly abandoned Rhaenyra, why didn't he just run away with nettles? Why did he have to still fight for team black when he could have just flown else where with her? Rhaenyra would have met her own end inevitably. I’m no daemyra shipper, I’m not a daemon fan either it just doesn't add up. He sacrificed his life to get rid of the biggest threat of team green? Wouldn't it be fair to assume it was for Rhaenyra? Or atleast his children.

Now this is just my personal opinion, he loved nettles, yes (she's awesome who wouldn't 😩) but he also bore some love for Rhaenyra (she’s mommy🥰) as well. He chose to let go of nettles to protect her because he loved her. He chose to fight for Rhaenyra because in the end of the day he loved her and wanted to prove his loyalty to her (but wasn’t actually faithful lol)

Daemon in his Katherine era 💀💀💀💅 blurry ass pic

He died for her cause if not for her in the end of the day. Well atleast that’s what I think 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

I don’t believe in the theory that he fled with nettles, it just sort of feels out of character for him, to leave his children, Aegon the younger in the clutches of Aegon ii. Daemon imo would scream his head off if he knew his first born son was captured by Aegon ii, and somehow work up some scheme to get back into the game and possibly overthrow Aegon ii. And it just seems unlikely he survived the fall as well. 

Daemon is a complicated and morally grey character, but like any character he has his merits and he has his flaws. I think his love life would be as complex as he is, conflicted by both duty and love.

I hope I make sense lol, I want to know your thoughts.

Ok, so first thanks for being normal even if you have a different opinion. Usually, I always get a bunch of people screaming at me lmao. It's cool to have rational discussions even if in the end the parts just agree in disagree. Now, back to the points you brought. I still disagree lol. Imo, Daemon didn't die for the cause, much less for Rhaenyra or his children. I'm gonna break down why I think this argument makes no sense whatsoever:

Fire & Blood never implies that Daemon had a close relationship or even cared that much for his children. He didn't hate them or anything, but we have no canon basis to say he was a fatherly type where he thought of his children that much or was willing to make huge sacrifices for them. This is fandom projection 101. So to say he did what he did thinking of his children is a stretch IMO.

Aemond wasn't Rhaenyra's biggest threat at the time. Her biggest threat was Daeron and the Southron army he had assembled. It's canon. "And yet, the greatest threat to Rhaenyra's reign was not Aemond One-Eye, but his younger brother, Prince Daeron The Daring, and the great southron army led by Lord Ormund Hightower." And that was before Ulf and Hugh's betrayal and before Rhaenyra alienated Addam by declaring him a traitor as well. So even if Rhaenyra didn't say anything about that in the letter to Daemon (which I doubt, since she was sending the letter to demand Nettles' death, so she sure talked about the dragonseeds' betrayal), Daemon knew about that already. He knew that without him, she was fucked, because she would have only Tyraxes and Syraxes on Team Black's side, and you can exclude Syraxes since Rhaenyra wouldn't go into battle. He knew all of that. He still chose to die anyway.

About running away with Nettles, a few things to consider. As long as he was with Nettles, she wouldn't be safe. If he runs away with her and Rhaenyra somehow wins the war, she will send for him. He would be a traitor, she'd never forgive that. If Rhaenyra loses, Team Green is definitely going after him. He would be a threat to the throne, they would never let them live. The best way to protect Nettles is to send her away alone. Besides that, regardless of what happened, if he ran away with her, he would never be able to return home and I doubt Daemon was keen on living on the run forever. It doesn't fit him.

It seemed like he was tired of war, tired of the scheming, tired of fighting. Even before I reached the point where he makes the decisions he makes, I felt his narrative shifting, and his time in Maidenpool with Nettles looked much more like a vacation to him and a respite than a mission. He seemed happy with Nettles, and happy with that bubble he created for them, but once reality burst that, he seemed done with everything. This is also sort of corroborated by his dialogue with Aemond, where he agrees he has lived for too long.

The narrative in any way frames his final battle with Aemond as something he is doing for the cause. Daemon might have gone through a somewhat redemption arc, but he's still very much a selfish man and someone who would never go down in any other way than not an epic way because he is "the rogue prince". His showdown with Aemond is written as something about both of them as characters whose arcs are mirrored at every turn, finally culminating in their final encounter, and written as Daemon's big send-off.

The narrative specifically frames his final act as a betrayal through Rhaenyra's lens, further corroborating all that was set up before, something that is narratively satisfying to the reader because at this point she's very much the villain instead of the hero. We have seen her burning bridges, behaving poorly with the smallfolk, and being unfair with allies, culminating in her acts against Addam, Nettles, and Corlys, and overestimating her hand to the point of being arrogant in her certainty that Daemon would come back to be with her after murdering an innocent woman. Until this point, Daemon and Nettles have been written as a romantic arc, one that ends in heartbreak, specifically because of Rhaenyra. So we have this moment of satisfaction when Rhaenyra realizes that even though she did everything she did, and she was so certain she would win, she actually lost. He left her. He betrayed her.

The story leaving the "possibility" that Daemon could have survived and gone to find his way toward Nettles serves to show where his loyalty truly lies, and where his heart is, in life or death. If anything, to believe he went on a suicide mission because he couldn't stand being apart from Nettles is a much more acceptable and logical conclusion of his final choices than the bizarre cope that is the "he died for Rhaenyra, for his children, or for the cause".

Finally, I don't think he loved both because I don't think he ever loved Rhaenyra tbh. Not like he loved Nettles or Laena. An argument can be made that he loves Rhaenyra in the show adaptation (although I disagree about that medium, but this is for another post). But in the book, it's very clear that she's not on top or even second in his list of "women I romantically loved most in my criminal life". I say Nettles comes first because his love for her seemed to come from a genuine place of wonderment and affection, with no hidden agenda behind it. Laena comes close behind because even though we don't know if he indeed fell for her or if he married her to advance politically after his recent downfall from power at the time, he clearly came to love her very much in the years they were together and was happy in their marriage. I say even Mysaria might come first to him than Rhaenyra, he clearly cared for her for a while and was very upset when they lost their baby. The only person beneath Rhaenyra is Rhea because he clearly hates Rhea. In the books, Daemon groomed and wanted to use Rhaenyra to get back at his brother/get closer to the throne and later they combined their shared vision and aligned political ambitions in a marriage that was beneficial to both of them. Obviously, there was physical attraction (and co-dependency on Rhaenyra's part), but love? I don't think so.

[nicksolemnlyswears]

HOTD S2 EP2 THOUGHTS

SPOILERS AHEAD

I need to start this by the very strange scene at the brothel. It took me so much by surprise I had to pause it. Like we all know these boys have mommy issues but I always thought it was more Aegon than Aemond. Like wow. I was left like this

It was the intimate position, his hair was down, the lack of clothes. He was completely vulnerable. Aemond wanted to be coddled and to be told reassuring words.

I didn’t understand well the part where she tries to kiss him and he says “not here” like sure man. you’re just naked and telling the keeps secret but go off [ngl i was waiting for her to pop a boob out and breast feed him]

that woman is a dangerous woman. she had scheming eyes. we’ll see where that goes.

Following up with the mommy issues I am so disappointed in Alicent. Aegon is clearly not her favorite child I do not know how she can bear seeing him weep as he seeks her out and she just nopes out. WTF. No wonder your other son is seeking refuge elsewhere. Also forcing Haelena to do the funeral proceeding. What sort of mother are you? The Greens think they’re so high and mighty but they barely resemble a family. They are not a united front.

The funeral proceedings almost had me in tears. I didn’t think they’d show the poor child with its head sewn back together. I thought he’d be covered. Now more so than ever I curse Alicent. You are forcing your daughter who had to witness his death relieve this scene. You forced her to watch her son be paraded around the city.

Daemon fucked up and it’s because of him that a child is dead and yet I can’t bring myself to hate the Blacks. The Greens are terrible people.

Aegon is falling apart and mourning and he has no one to come to. He doesn’t know how to control his emotions and I can’t blame him for it when his mother and grandfather only use him as a puppet and not a real human being. I pity the Hightower children.

That being said WTF was that? Making Ser Criston Cole the hand to the king? Disgusting. He was projecting so hard during this episode. Bitching about Arryks dirty cloak and blaming him for Jaeherys death.

BITCH IT WAS YOUR FAULT FOR GETTING YOUR COCK WET. FUCKING CRISTON COLE I CANT FUCKING STAND HIM. I CANT EVEN SAY IM HAPPY ALICENT SLAPPED HIM CAUSE HE PROBABLY ENJOYED IT.

I’ve got more to say regarding the Greens but my blood pressure is going up. Let me recap I hate them and I pity them all at the same time because the three children are only products of Alicent and Otto’s parenting (Viserys up to some point to)

Oh and let’s not forget Otto’s kind words for Viserys. He probably just misses how easy he was to control.

MOVING ONTO THE BLACKS

Baby Jace and Baela I love that little moment and yet I fear it because she’s out there on cute little Moondancer and it sounds like trouble.

Love the Ser Harwin talk. They acknowledge it and they accept it. Talk about being progressive.

But also so sad that Baela feels that way towards Daemon. I had high hopes for their relationship considering that deleted scene in season 1.

RHAENYS HAVING RHAENYRAS BACK TALK ABOUT FEMINISM. HELL YEAH! I fully want Rhaenys to be Rhaenyras ride or die!!

Daemon fucked up, yes. Will we ever know what he told Blood and Cheese? No. Still I can’t blame Rhaenyra for doubting him. He’s a sketchy man who puts on his little cloak to commit war crimes.

Don’t get me wrong I’m a Daemon stan but if he didn’t act so sketchy maybe we would trust him more.

He’s a dramatic guy he’s out commuting yet another big declaration of love for Rhaenyra. Like “look i’ve got harrenhal for you” I think idk we’ll see next episode.

Ser Arryk and Ser Erryk how fucking tragic. and whose fault is it? FUCKING CRISTON COLE PIECE OF SHIT

breathe nikki breathe

a part of me thinks he killed himself because he knew they would live in doubt if he’s really sir erryk. but in reality they believed they share a soul so that was probably why. he killed his other fucking half. they might be divided by believes but they still love each other.

ELINDA IS A REAL HANDMAID. SHE FOLLOWED INSTRUCTIONS AND LOOKED FOR A GUARD. Haelenas maid could never.

I have so many more thoughts so if anyone wants to talk please feel free to hit me up. I’ll probably rewatch the episode tomorrow again to process

[mortalfaerie]

a compelling offer pt. 2

aemond targaryen x velaryon (strong) oc

summary: daenys velaryon makes a decision

tag: @hopebaker @shelbyteller

-

"You cannot be considering this earnestly, mother!" Jacaerys said, near to hysterical.

Though they had a bit more decorum as they sat and watched the elder Velaryon pace and his mother rub her temples, Baela and Rhaena were inclined to agree. Lucerys, uncomfortable as he pulled a loose thread out of his sleeve, stitch by stitch, stood against the wall next to his sister, Daenys - who looked like she would pay her weight in gold to be anywhere but in that room.

Daemon, the observer as always, sat opposite his daughters on the chaise and surveyed the room.

"Jacaerys, you know as well as any of my children that peace in this court is a prize jewel. If this offer would work to soothe the queen and her ambitions, then we must consider it." Rhaenyra sighed.

"Consider selling my sister to that - that usurper?" Jacaerys threw back.

Rhaenyra looked to her husband, who shrugged in reply. "Had I a sister, I might sympathize with a brother's disdain."

Warily, the princess turned to her daughter. "Daenys, my dear," she offered a hand, and her daughter came to her side, "What say you? It would be your marriage."

Daenys chewed her lip. "I've always known my marriage would be diplomatic,"

"Then wed a Stark, or a Tyrell! You don't have to wed that butcher of an uncle!" Jacaerys interjected.

Daenys leveled a look at him. "And what end would that solve in the succession? What if Aemond were to wed a Stark, or Tyrell as you say - and then claim their armies to steal our mother's throne? If I wed him, he is pacified."

Jacaerys looked to his brother. "I don't like him any more than you do, Jace, and he's had it out for me since we were children. But I have to agree with Daenys. Aemond isn't someone to underestimate when he has Vhagar."

"And," Daemon offered, "Daenys might be able to give us an ear to the movements of this green party."

Rhaenyra looked at her daughter. "And would you be content? Would you be happy, my love?"

Daenys gave a half smile. "I would be safe as long as I'm in the eye of the court - and I will have my dragon and books and I will dream up codes to write my letters to you in. I may not be able to go to war - but I can do this."

Rhaenyra looked at her a long moment, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "It's your decision. I won't force it on you."

"What if he is a cruel husband?" Jacaerys asked, brow furrowed. "If Helaena's speech is any indication, his brother hasn't set a glowing example of matrimony."

"If he is cruel, we will see to it that he is dealt with." Daemon answered. "We have ways."

Daenys looked around the room. "I'd like to go to bed." She said.

Jacaerys sighed, his posture relaxing. "Of course. Goodnight, sister."

And with that, she made her exit.

Morning came all too quickly, and Daenys asked the serving girl to pull an embroidered red gown from her trunk. She enlisted Baela and Rhaena's help in braiding her hair in a crown around her head, met her family in the central room that connected their chambers.

Jacaerys looked over his twin sister. "You're going to do it, then?"

Daenys swallowed. "I've made up my mind. This is my decision, brother. I don't need you to understand it."

"And I don't," he said, but offered her his arm to loop her hands around. "But I have decided to respect it."

"Thank you," she said quietly. Jacaerys, ever the older brother, gave her a soft and wary smile. "Of course."

They filed out in a procession to the throne room, where the Lord Hand sat in absentia on the iron throne. Courtiers had assembled to see what would happen, and the queen stood beside the dais with her children.

Jacaerys led her to the foot of the dais, and then released her arm to fall back into the crowd.

"Have you reached a decision on the offer extended to you the previous night, Lady Daenys Velaryon?" Otto Hightower asked, projecting his voice into the cavernous room.

Daenys cleared her throat. "Yes," she said. "I have decided to accept the offer. I will wed Prince Aemond Targaryen."

Whispers, small cheers, and some applause came from the courtiers. In what was no doubt a heavily scripted move, Aemond came down the dais and took her hand. He dropped to a knee before her brough her fingers to his lips, brushing a kiss to them.

"As I am a knight, so I will be chivalrous to you, my betrothed." He said, loud enough for the courtiers to hear.

"Then it is settled," the Hand announced. "The Lady Daenys will return to Dragonstone with her mother and siblings while preparations may be made for the wedding with the High Septon."

Daenys looked at Aemond, still kneeling before her. His blue eye met hers, and the corner of his mouth quirked in a smile. Daenys felt her cheeks warm, and she looked away. Rising again, Aemond said with courtly courtesy, "Perhaps my betrothed would like to walk in the gardens with me, that we may discuss our nuptials?"

Before she could respond, the queen added, "A wonderful suggestion." So, Daenys nodded and took his offered arm, letting him lead her out.

[shesjustanothergeek]

His Love

|Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Ten

Master List of Series

Summary: Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, or how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen. You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

Author's Note: You would laugh when I tell y'all the hours I spent trying to study High Valyrian and make sure I used proper grammar. Because, like... who does that?? I still don't think I used correct grammar and sentence structure, but who's going to know? This chapter takes place over a few years. I wanted to clarify that ahead of time in case of any questions. I also wanted to say that the woman depicted in the cover art is not necessarily what I imagine the main character to look like. She has black hair like her mother, and she's not conventionally skinny. She has a semi-muscular but broad body due to her training, and her eyes are as described. Other than that, the MC can be whatever you picture. xD ANYWAYS... Thank you so much for your continued support as we embark on this journey together. It means so much to me.

Chapter Warnings: Gaslight, gatekeep, girl boss, time jumps, italics equal High Valyrian when speaking.

"I survive off the idea that one day my rage will be witnessed by the men who poisoned me with it in the first place." - Maya G. Wolf, Being A Woman.

Prince Daemon was excited when you arrived at Dragonstone. He dreamed of having a son of his own. One to train and spar with. Though he loved Baela and Rhaena, they were not encouraged to take up the sword, nor did they want to. Rhaenyra's sons, Jacaerys and Lucerys, were trained in swordsmanship but were less committed than Daemon would have preferred. They had much heavier things to worry about, like ruling entire kingdoms.

You were the only child in Dragonstone with no future prospects. You had no claims to land. None would be passed down to you as everything was already set to your father's true-born daughters. It did not matter if you were the eldest and held the most seniority. You were a bastard, and bastards were nothing but a stain on noble houses. You were lucky even to be allowed into the same wing as your father's family.

Even though you were a smudge on the Targaryen name, the Targaryens treated you as anything but and welcomed you with open arms and hearts. You were hesitant, at first, to accept their love, only clinging to a man you shared a slither of a connection with.

It became Daemon's project to integrate you into the family. It was what gave him joy in the never-ending days tucked away at Dragonstone. Furious at the world and everything around her, he transformed an angry girl into a warrior.

He saw you reborn through his gruesome training, sand melted and forged into glass. The lessons he taught began to shine through as time progressed. You eventually viewed those curly-mop-headed boys as your brothers and Rhaenyra, your mother. The family became the most important thing to you, your love for each stored close within your heart. You all were that each other had.

You had heard the rumors that plagued Rhaenyra and her children concerning their lineage. It was surprising how much people would let slip around the "bastard of Daemon Targaryen." You could not help but feel a sense of empathy for them. You needed to protect one another from the world, from the cruel whispers that trailed not too far behind each of you.

But if one of your brothers decided to pull your hair one more time when you weren't paying attention... the Stranger would have two more souls to guide.

***

You and Daemon had developed a routine here on the sandy beaches of Dragonstone.

You would run in the morning when the sun had not risen yet, and the wind still held the same damp, nightly chill in the air. He would send you around the inner grounds of the castle, then up and down the many rocky and steep hills leading to Dragonmont, and finally, around the beaches, where he would begin your proper training.

"A warmup," he would call it as you vomited on the shore, panting like a dog the first dozen times you did it.

He pushed you, sometimes too far, you thought, when you screamed, exhausted with tears in your eyes. Daemon would always say the same thing every time you nearly gave up.

"When you are at your lowest, stand back up, and spit in the face of your enemy. They will not take pity when they see your weakness. They will kill you. Do not let them get the chance." You could not argue with his logic, your pride beginning to mirror his over time. Weakness was never an option for a bastard in the House of the Dragon.

Within years, your limbs were not the soft linear sticking of bone they once were but toned, strong, and sturdy from the many bags of grain you carried. Your body no longer reflected the malnourished peasant girl but a warrior, the likes of which no one had seen since Queen Visenya.

***

"Tell me again, Maester Gerardys, of the dragons here on this island," you asked sweetly, resting your jaw on your palm.

You wanted to hear about something other than the hierarchy and the politics of the North, your mind entirely elsewhere. You knew that if you batted your lashes enough, the Maester would forget about today's lesson.

"Well, Princess, we have had many over the years, but currently, there are your family's dragons. Caraxes, ridden by your father. Syrax by your mother. Vermax by your younger brother Prince Jacaerys, and Arrax by the second youngest, Prince Lucerys." You nodded along, seeming to care about the claimed dragons honestly.

"I heard rumors from the servants of several unclaimed dragons. Ones that steal the common folk's livestock and another that is so silver that it blends into the sea mist. What of those?" You pouted your lips slightly when you talked, leaning forward in your palm.

"Ah, yes. There are wild dragons that reside on the island. Some are in the cliffs overlooking the port, Dragonmont, or in other hidden caves where we cannot find them." You smirked slightly, appearing to have no ulterior motives in the conversation. "There are three riderless dragons. Seasmoke, which belonged to the late Lord Laenor Velaryon, Silverwing, who belonged to Queen Alysanne, Vermithor, who belonged to Jaehaerys Targaryen, your second Great Grandsire. Vermithor resides inside the Dragonmont and has a large body of bronze. They called him the Bronze Fury, and oh, was he a sight to see in the skies! The way the sun would shine on his scales was magnificent!"

Maester Gerardys shook his head, smiling to himself and getting rid of the memory of the beautiful beast. "There are three wild dragons which have been attempted to be claimed, but none have ever succeeded. They are nasty, those three. And should you ever come across them, run in the other direction."

He began to turn back around, beginning to continue the lesson from before. You couldn't let him finish; you still had many more questions.

"What do those wild dragons look like," you quickly asked, almost showing a worrying amount of enthusiasm.

The Maester swallowed, returning to you as you display your best puppy dog eyes. You knew they were his greatest weakness—the brown orbs reflected in the candlelight, the small ring of violet shining around your pupil.

"Gods, be good," he whispered, clasping his hands behind his back.

"The first is Grey Ghost, the one you heard the servants talking about. He has a pale coloring to his scale and almost becomes invisible when he flies within the sea mist. He does not bother the smallfolk much, leaving for long periods. The second is Sheepstealer. He is a real nuisance to the smallfolk, always snatching any mutton he can wrap his teeth around from here to Driftmark and Wendwater. " You nodded along, urging him to keep talking until you had every drop of knowledge one could obtain.

"The worst one, Princess, is Cannibal. He is said to be as black as coal and has green eyes that would scare the most battle-hardened of men. He is the largest of all three wild dragons and by far the most dangerous, feasting on his fellow species. His den is said to be covered in the bones of those who have attempted to claim him."

Maester Garardys was worried he might have scared the poor Princess with the discussion of the fearsome dragons, but when he looked at your face, your features showed no fear. You had a slight grin gracing your flushed skin, your eyes bright, and your mind hanging onto every word he said.

"Where does Cannibal reside, Maester?" You questioned eagerly, forgetting yourself.

He squinted his eyes momentarily, unsure if he should give you the answer considering your demeanor. "He resides in the back of the Dragonmont on the eastern side." He began to turn away but stopped, feeling uneasy. "Princess, why do you have a sudden interest in the dragons here on the island? We had a lesson on them barely a fortnight ago, and if you do not mind me saying, you seemed somewhat disinterested in it."

Your smile did not falter momentarily, a lie quickly finding its way onto your tongue.

"I had decided to do some extra reading on my family's history in my spare time and was somewhat confused about which dragon was where, who rode what, and what they looked like. There is so much for me to learn," you fidgeted in your seat, wringing your hands, "and my brothers have such an advantage on me with having you as their teacher for their whole life... I feel very inadequate compared to them."

Maester Garardys gave you a pitying look that made your blood boil as you continued your defeated expression. "Oh, Princess, do not be too hard on yourself," he cooed. "This is not a traditional education that women like yourself get, but your father insisted you be taught the same as your brothers. I will remember for the next lesson to take more time with you."

"Thank you, Maester Garardys," you said, feigning bashfulness as your nails dug into your palms. The urge to jump over the wooden table that separated you and punch that soft-hearted look off his face was strong, but you held fest, continuing the doltish girl act. "If it would not be too much, ser, could you please not tell my father about what we discussed? I do not want him to think I am incapable of doing what he assigned me."

"Of course, Princess," he smiled kindly as if he was talking to some simple-minded fool and not a growing woman with the compacity to understand simple subjects.

Finally, he returned to the original lesson, speaking slower than before and explaining things in more detail than you thought necessary. You swallowed the anger threatening to spill past your lips as you adjust your posture.

You would show him. You would show all who thought the same as him how wrong they were about you. You were not to be spoken down to and underestimated, and you would make sure anyone who did would live to regret it. You were not some peasant girl with a fancy title; you were a Targaryen. You are the firstborn of Daemon Targaryen, the brother of the King, the husband of the heir to the Iron Throne, and they would do well to remember that.

***

You only had a few hours before someone would realize you were gone. You had told Rhaenyra that you were nursing a severe headache after your training with Daemon today and could not participate in your daily embroidery lesson for the afternoon. She, of course, understood, knowing how her uncle could be if left on his own with a sword and a weaker opponent.

There was only a slightly guilty feeling in your chest as you lied to her.

Years of the gruesome time your father had put you through paid off as you snuck past countless guards and servants, using the hidden passages within Dragonstone's walls to escape. There were no maps of the caverns inside Dragonmont, which left you nothing but the information Maester Garardys gave you and your instincts to guide you.

The first half was easy, you told yourself. You only needed to sneak inside Syrax's lair and steal an egg. Daemon had come boasting not too long ago about how the she-dragon had laid a new clutch of eggs, a sign that his "Targaryen seed was strong" and your mother was surely with child again. You felt bad that you could be taking a dragon away from one of your future siblings, but you only needed one, nothing more. Indeed they would survive if you just took one.

Syrax was nowhere to be found as you silently crept into her den, placing the torch you had for light in an empty holder. You sighed in relief as you gazed upon six eggs laid on a pile of sand she had made, a nest to keep them warm. Plenty would be left. You smiled as you stuffed an egg inside your satchel, positioning it with your other supplies.

The low rumble of heavy steps shook the ground, signaling that Syrax was most likely returning from where ever she was, and you needed to get the Seven Hells out of there. You cursed the Gods for this unfortunate timing, snatching your torch and scrambling out of the cave and in the opposite direction of the cold-blooded animal.

You ran further into the darkened caves, the idiotic nature of your plans finally coming to fruition as you realized you were lost. You could feel the panic beginning to rise in your chest, your breathing speeding up. Tears pricked at your eyes, and you stumbled, dropping your only light source and tearing the seam of your dress as you fell onto the rocky ground. You cried out in pain, your body forcing the tears to fall against your will as you wiped at your face.

"You will not be weak," you said, echoing along the warm stone. "You are not weak," you gritted out again, digging your palms into your eye sockets.

You yanked your arms away, readying to push yourself up and continue your quest as you opened your eyes. Standing over you in the dim lighting was a creature as black as night, its scales reflecting off your lost torch as a rush of hot air wafted your cheeks. Cannibal's piercing green eyes stared back at you, his pupils dilating as he scanned your frightened form.

Quickly, you moved to create a safe enough distance between you and the beast, wincing as you noticed the blood dripping down your shin. He tilted his head at you, seeming confused to see such a small and pathetic thing so far back into Dragonmont as he stepped closer. You grabbed the egg faster than Cannibal could move and placed it between you and the dragon, offering peace between two isolated individuals. He proceeded instantly, walking over to your discarded torch and consuming the egg in one bite, bits of shell flinging across the cave floor.

The fallen torch illuminated his body over top of the light. Rows of black horns protruded along his head and neck, teeth the size of your forearm glistening with yolk. His feet had shiny black claws that could slice a man in half. He was not the majestic creature that songs were sung about. He was a monster. A monster you would scare a child with so that they would come home on time.

No one would think you were weak with a dragon such as him by your side. They would all cower away as the Bastard Princess sat atop her Cannibal dragon. It was divine fate that brought you to this moment, face to face with the most dangerous dragon in all the realm. A creature that many men had tried to claim, but all failed, their bones scattered across his den. 

You were no man.

Courage filled your limbs as you stepped closer to him, your chin held high as you took about another item you had brought. You had stolen pork legs on your way to the caverns, the kitchen maids too preoccupied with other tasks to see a cloaked figure hiding amongst the shadows. You took a deep breath, holding the first leg out as Cannibal's nostrils flared at the smell.

"Dohaerās (serve)," you commanded, and the dragon stared, unmoving. "Māzīs naejot (come forward)," you tried, insecurity creeping into your mind when he did not move. "Māzīs," you repeated, with more force, still holding the pig leg before you. "Māzīs naejot issa (come to me)," you barked.

You knew this would take some time, but surely, waiving a piece of raw meat in front of a dragon named Cannibal would yield quicker results. Still, he ignored you, his head lowering to the ground as he sniffed it, beginning to lick it.

"What in the Seven Hells are you doing?" You questioned, exasperated as you stepped closer to him.

At speed too quick for a dragon of his size, his head snapped up, his green eyes becoming black as a low growl came from his chest, looking as if he would charge at any second; you threw the leg and retreated. Once again, he swallowed it in one bite, returning to the same spot on the ground.

You looked closer, forcing your eyes to adjust in the darkness as you realized that was the spot where you fell, seeing the dried blood. Your body was faster than your mind, swiftly finding the dagger Daemon had gifted you for your first name day with him and cutting your hand, smearing your blood on the raw meat. Finally, did you have Cannibal's full attention, his nostrils flaring as he smelled the air.

You steeled yourself again, holding the pork out.

"Māzīs (come)," you demanded proudly. He snarled, the sound booming inside your ears as you repeated yourself.

You could sense his anger at this tiny creature believing she could command him, and when you repeated a third time, his patience wore thin. Cannibal inhaled, his throat grumbling as you saw him lift his head and open his mouth. You were not an idiot. You knew what came next, seeing it countless times with Caraxes, but with nowhere to run, you stared at the bright orange flames.

***

The sound of clinking silverware and laughter echoed in the dining hall of Dragonstone, even with one less member of the family. Jace had butchered a Valerian pronunciation, Rhaenyra attempting to stifle her laughter, and even Damon chuckling in amusement. Everything was going normal, each person blissfully unaware of the Princess deep inside Dragonmont.

"Mother," Luke spoke during a lull in the conversation, "could I bring sister some dinner?" No one had seen you since high noon, not wanting to bother you while being ill.

"I am sure she would love that, sweet boy," she said gently. Rhaenyra smiled, nodding to Luke and motioning him to come in for a quick kiss before going to your chambers. He proceeded on the usual route to your apartments but stopped short as he looked down at the plate the servants had prepared for you. 

Luke knew how much you loved sweets, sneaking him and Jace under the rouse of them wanting something in the kitchens and not you. Both boys would always play along with whatever schemes their rebellious half-sister thought of for the day. Either racing across the halls and seeing who was the fastest, playing with wooden swords inside the castle, or putting pins on her Septa's chair if she was a "particular cunt" that day.

Lucerys went down the small passage leading to the kitchens rounding the corner with your plate of cooling food still in his hands as he surveyed the freshly baked trays of pastries. He could not decide which ones you would like more. Sadly, nothing with apples was made.

"Could I help ya' young prince?" An older woman asked, her gown a drab grey woolen color and a white bonnet on her head.

"Oh yes," the young boy answered, slightly startled by her sudden presence. "My sister is not feeling well this evening, and I wanted to bring her some dessert to help her recover."

The woman hummed, nodding in agreement as she missed tying off her stained apron. "That's a mighty fine idea, my prince. May I help ye' in yer selection?"

"Oh, yes," he repeated, "her favorite is apples, but I cannot seem to find anything with some."

"Ah. Apples are not in season at the moment, so our imports of them have been scarce, but I'll see what I can do for the young Miss. I am sure we'll have some somewhere."

The woman began her search for the fruit wandering off into small rooms and digging through random barrels until she found what she was looking for. "Do you know what the lady prefers?" She questioned as she began to rinse the red fruit.

"I believe she likes something called apple muse. I think that is how she called it," he said, unsure. The woman nodded again and smiled as she gathered some bowls, pitchers, and utensils.

"She's a girl after me own heart," the lady commented, peeling the apples. "We eat this all the time for dessert, and it's very easy. I'll be done faster than a crow's fly."

Luke smiled and sat on a stool to watch the woman work, picturing your joyful face when he brought you the food.

***

Luke finally reached your grand oak doors, knocking with his free hand. You were not feeling good, so he knocked again and opened the door, calling out your name. You did not answer, which he wasn't surprised about. He still had the same grin, excited and happy to do something nice for his sister.

"I have brought you some dinner," he said gleefully. "It is your favorite. I even had one of the servants make you some Apple Muse." Still, you did not answer as Lucerys moved further into your apartments.

Your seamstress hid hints of the Targaryen crest throughout the different items in your entry room. Black and red decorated every fabric with curtains to match. Leather-bound books and armor were thrown haphazardly on velvet chairs and benches. No doubt you had told your maids you would clean it up later.

He figured you would be in your bed chambers, knocking again on a smaller door as he entered. He nearly dropped the plate he had put some much heart into when he saw your empty bed, the sheets undisturbed from when they were made early this morning.

Swiftly, he sat the food onto a nearby stand, ringing the bell for your maids. Within moments three women came up, surprised to see the young Prince Lucerys instead of their Princess. They all bowed, one readying to speak before she was cut off.

"Where is my sister," he asked quickly.

"We are not sure, Your Grace. She has not returned since her bath after training," the one he believed was called Edith said.

"How do you mean? She must be here," he denied, panicked. She told my mother she was retiring in the evening due to a headache."

The three girls looked at each other, each bewildered and confused. "I am sorry, Your Grace, but we have not seen her since then."

Luke nodded curtly, hurrying out of your rooms and back to the dining hall, his red pants swishing with each step. He would catch the rest of his family leaving if he were fast.

He ran past servant after servant, dodging some carrying stacks of linen, some with brooms and dusters, and others he bumped into without apologizing. Luke felt betrayal in his chest, his heart cracking into pieces as his eyes began to water. His young mind went to the worst possibilities, remembering how you told him of the terrible punishment to your former Aunt and handmaid for trying to abduct you. Perhaps someone else from your old life attempted it again? That would be the only reason you would lie.

How could you leave them? They were your family. They loved you. He loved you.

He sprinted blindly, wiping at his eyes as he ran into a warm body, instantly recognizing the floral smell.

"My sweet boy, what is the matter?" Rhaenyra asked kindly, stroking her second son's curly hair.

"It's Sissy," he cried, reverting to the old name he called you before Jace teased him. "She is not in her rooms, and-and none of her maids have seen her!"

"Calm, Lucerys. Take a deep breath and tell me again," Rhaenyra said calmly, with a nurturing, motherly tone.

"I went to give Sissy her food, but she is not in her rooms, and her servants said they have not seen her! I think they took her! Like before," Luke cried into his mother's thick skirts.

"Why do you think she was taken, Lucerys? Perhaps she is just along the beaches resting as she as done before?" Luke couldn't argue with her reasoning, but he still could not help but feel a sense of worry. She gave him a wry smile, looking over to her husband, who had a concentrated look on his face, his eyebrows creased.

Before Daemon or Rhaenyra could think of their next move, a Kingsguard ran toward them, their polished armor clanking.

"Princess," he nodded to Rhaenyra, still out of breath. "Prince Daemon. We believe in having spotted the young Princess on the eastern cliffs of Dragonmont," the knight known as Ser Steffon paused, glancing at the floor momentarily before looking back at Daemon, "naked and riding a dragon."

Rhaenyra's eyes widened in shock, covering her mouth as she went to grab her husband's hand. He took it without hesitance, squeezing it reassuringly as he pulled her closer. Jace and Luke both made disgusted faces at the mention of their sister without clothes, their true maturity showing no matter how righteous they tried to act.

"I will mount Caraxes," Daemon declared, his voice becoming what he used in war. "Gather serval knights, Ser Steffon, and alert the Dragonkeepers."

"I will go with you, father," Jacaerys interjected, puffing his chest out proudly.

"No," he said with finality, "Vermax is still not fully grown, and you do not have proper control over him yet. It would be too dangerous."

"But-" Jace pleaded before Daemon cut him off with a wave of his hand, rushing to his dragon. Jace stepped back dejectedly, nodding his head as his eyes fell to the floor.

***

The wind tore through your hair, ripping it out of its pinned style. Water leaked from your eyes as Cannibal flew through the skies at lightning speed. You held onto the horns on his back for dear life, your palms sliding as he did a sharp turn. The air was freezing on your bare skin, but the adrenaline pumping through your veins kept you warm.

The black dragon had been soaring wildly through the orange skies, accelerating to altitudes where you thought you might lose consciousness before he suddenly dipped back down. You had forgotten the commands you had memorized in High Valyrian, more focused on not falling to your death and having your family find your crushed, naked dead body.

Your mind was still reeling from the fact that you were alive. Cannibal had bathed you in his dragon fire, burned every inch of clothing on your body, and even melted the dagger your father had gifted you. But you were alive. You were still alive. A dragon had breathed its fire on you, and you lived. You had only heard fables of something like this happening. You did not believe it yourself. Experiencing the contents of myths and legends was not something you thought possible.

Suddenly, Cannibal made a sharp turn causing your body to slip to one side and dangle as he righted himself. He was a wild and untamed beast, possessing the stamina of a Dornish sand steed and taking you to places you did not want him to go. You knew if you did not gain control of him soon, everything would be for naught as he brought you close to the blue waters of the Narrow Sea, his spiked wings cutting through.

"Dohaerās (serve)," you shouted over the wind whistling in your ears, but Cannibal did not listen. "Dohaeragon aōha kipagīros (Serve your rider)!" As if he was trying to defy you, he started to ascend, his body a near verticle line as he flew towards the sky.

You realized you could not direct him from where you were sitting, making the split-second decision to use the horns along his spine as a ladder to reach his head. He began to straighten out, acting as if he was just going to glide across the fluffy yellow-tinted clouds, but then, he suddenly dipped, descending to the water below at blinding speeds. You were sure you felt like an insect crawling on his back, pesky and annoying as it moved just before you could swat it.

You grabbed the horns on his skull, leaning all your weight backward to stop your fast descent. Cannibal released a thundering roar, furious that someone would try to control him as he shifted to his side, his wings pointing above and below. You grabbed the horns on his skull, leaning all your weight backward to stop your fast descent. You captured the horns on his skull, leaning all your weight backward to stop your rapid decline. You held steadfast, shifting your weight in the opposite direction he went. He repeated the same tactic, moving too much into your opposing grip and rocking you back and forth.

"Nyke emagon claimed ao, zaldrīzes. Nyke aōha kipagīros, se ao līs dohaeragon issa lest īlon both morghūljagon! (I have claimed you, dragon. I am your rider, and you must serve me lest we both die!)" You screamed into the air, counteracting his next attempt to shake you off.

A piercing screech cut through the skies, both you and Cannibal turning your heads to where it came from. You had no doubt who it was. Your family had most likely discovered your absence and decided to send your father after you. Fear rushed over you as you saw the Blood Wyrm cut his way through the clouds, its skin a terrifying granite of red and black, your father's lean body sitting atop it.

Cannibal moved to turn and face Caraxes, known to have a deep aversion to other dragons; he no doubt would try to kill him and your father in the process.

"Daor (No)," you bellowed as you countered his attempt, jerking his head in the opposite direction. "Udrāzmī ao rȳbagon naejot issa (You obey my commands)." You leaned down into what you assumed was his ear, "Tegon, sir (Land, now)."

Cannibal slowed. You could sense he was thinking, debating whether or not he would win a fight against a battle-hardened dragon, and if he did win, would he even be worth the kill?

By an act of divine intervention, he moved, descending at slower speeds than he had before, succumbing to the power of a tiny girl. He landed on the southern shores, his breath releasing small puffs of smoke. 

Cannibal lowered his head, which startled you, but you tried not to let him see as you climbed off the dragon. Your hand slid along his neck feeling his blood pulsing in his throat as your eyes locked onto one another. You wanted to thank him for letting you be the one to break him but could not find the proper word. He let out a low sound, not quite a purr, but you knew he could sense how you felt as he turned away, his green eyes blinking slowly.

Your father and his dragon landed on the same beach, far enough away that Cannibal wouldn't feel threatened but still too close for his liking. He didn't recognize Daemon as a threat as he walked towards you carrying something in his arms.

You had prepared yourself for his harsh words before you even set foot inside Dragonmont. Nothing he could say would make you falter. You slinked out from behind Cannibal's large body, your chin held high and your hands clasped behind you proudly.

"You are naked," he said blandly, scanning your body with a judgemental smirk.

You gasped, all your mental preparation from before crumbling as you remembered your current attire, attempting to cover your body. Daemon laughed, throwing the bundle he had in his arms toward you. You raised your eyebrows at the pair of brown trousers with a shirt to match, questioning if that was really what he wanted you to wear.

"Come," he motioned his head, and you followed. "You have claimed a dragon in which there is much to learn. Though I am happy," he spoke leisurely, kicking the sand with his boots, "your mother is not. I suspect you will deal with a great tongue-lashing once we return to the castle."

You sighed through your nose, the sound blending into the folding waves on the shore, pursing your lips as you nodded. "It is easier to seek forgiveness than ask for permission," you quipped, pulling up the pants he had given you.

He laughed softly, smiling as you struggled to keep up with him in clothes two times your size.

In truth, Daemon was still shaken. The moment that Lucerys had come running back from your rooms with tears in his eyes he panicked, his mind going to the worst places imaginable. He did not believe you would go willingly if someone from your past life had managed to sneak their way onto Dragonstone. He knew you had found comfort in your current life. Your indulgences for the finer aspects told him all he needed to know, but he could still sense the reservations whenever Rhaenyra would display an array of gowns when a Lord arrived. Though they may have been small, the habits of your old life were still there. He just didn't know how much was left.

Despite how terrified he was near moments ago, Daemon displayed nothing of the sort. Laughing and teasing his dragon rider daughter as you walked toward the castle. He was giddy that there was another aspect he could add to your daily training and could barely contain his excitement of eventually seeing your frustrated face when things didn't go as you wanted.

It was another challenge he could guide you through as your father, doing what his mother did for him and making up for the years he did not know of your existence. How he wished he could return to the past and change things. So many things...

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I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter! I feel like it was pretty controversial for me to choose the Cannibal as the reader's dragon, but out of all the options that she had, I feel like this resembles her the most. I'm sorry about the no Aegon, but we gotta bring some juice to the story. Some meat and potatoes, if you will.

The main character I created is strong. She's raw, visceral, the feeling of triumph when you cross the finish line and win the race. She's the rage you have bottled up throughout your entire life from everyone telling you to contain your emotions, act a certain way, and accept the wrong you have been a victim of. And Cannibal is the only dragon I feel canonically embodies the same fucking rage and power the reader has.

Well, I may have given you too much info on the reader that you could figure out on your own as you read.

I also wanted to say that, canonically, the Targaryen's are not fire proof. We've seen them get burnt to death by dragon fire and just regular fire. The MC only survived because she inadvertently used blood magic and sacrificed a dragon egg. So, sadly, she is not fire proof. She's just lucky. It would be cool if the Targaryen's were tho!

Tagged Peeps: @zeennnnnnn, @malfoytargaryen, @targaryencore, @justasmallbean, @alexandra-001, @buckysmainhxe-deactivated202303, @omgsuperstarg, @sommornyte, @minttea07, @silverslive, @unclecrunkle, @prettykinkysoul, @duesobabe, @djlexi, @ynbutbetter, @honestlykat, @graykageyama, @legolas017, @iiamthehybrid, @brezzybfan,@dd122004dd, @ladybug0095, @millies0bsimp, @kalfilit, @sheislonelyalways, @tempt-ress, @bellameshipper, @minttea07, @trikigirl271, @esposadomd, @buckylahey, @justarandomflowerchildofthenight, @partypoison00, @please-buckme, @pastelorangeskies, @joliettes, @existential-echo, @iiamthehybrid, @priyajoyy, @valaenatargaryensdragon, @merovingianprincess, @rachelnicolee,@sunny-boy-06 

[one-of-many-journeys]

Day 46

Snowchant Hunting Grounds

Rode south back toward Song’s Edge, stopping at Hollow Hall to trade my animal figurines with Enjuk. That completes the collection, and Enjuk was beyond thankful.

I played each of the new light projections, taking in their ancient shapes and names. I traced familiarities in more than one. In particular, the grizzly bear. As it stood up on its back legs I saw the outline of a Frostclaw or its fiery brother standing with clawed paws and looming stature. I doubt the holograms were life-sized either. How big were these beasts? I’ve never seen an animal larger than a goat. It made me think—there were other shapes I’d seen formed from metal; wolves and Scorchers, stags and Grazers…In Brin’s poison-fuelled frenzy, he said that the new machines took their shapes from ancient things. Ancient animals? And if Hephaestus was the one that built their new, dangerous variants, how did it learn of those shapes? 

I left Enjuk to his studies, but not before he rewarded me handsomely for completing his collection.

On my circuitous route south, I next wound east to stop by Longnotch. Snow started up again. 

I told Umnak of my defeat of the Claws Beneath. He was thankful to have his friends avenged and the lands made safer. Honestly, it was just refreshing meeting a Banuk grown old who wasn’t eager to throw himself into the path of an oncoming herd just for the thrill. I preach, but I can’t picture what I would be like at that age. Not willing to back down from the hunt, I’d wager, even when my body joins the long list of naysayers thinking me incapable. 

Guess I really am practically Banuk. 

Back along the river bank west to Song’s Edge. I told Nalutk the good news about the Fireclaws. I’ve taken out all of the Daemon’s towers too. Its scourge has ended, at least in the Cut. I don’t doubt that it will try again. There might even be other facilities like Firebreak across the lands that Hephaestus has in its sights. 

Next, I climbed up to Sekuli to trade the remaining pigments I’d salvaged on my travels. She mourned Ourea, a dear friend and rare dissident of tradition among the Banuk. I left the village as Sekuli ground down some of the pigments and prepared her next piece. 

Good hunting in the forests below Song’s Edge, collecting bones and skins to craft new satchels. Shot down a few birds in midair. Every trader seems to want Owls.

I stopped by the Carja encampment to speak to Furanhi and Hishavan about the sorry business with Ruwas. Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t Inatut’s Werak leaders that came clean about the other dead Carja soldiers, but Inatut himself—came to them in the garb of a long-dead soldier and scared the Sun Priest half to death. Furanhi was thankful for my part in finding the truth, but the ordeal certainly didn’t renew their trust in the Banuk. Their encampment will be packing up to return to the Sundom shortly. I guess this was the situation Inatut’s Werak were hoping to avoid, but a budding trade relationship isn’t worth a man’s life, no matter how profitable. 

I returned to Song’s Edge a couple hours after nightfall to check on Sekuli’s progress. The painting covered the huge swath of stone beneath the village’s traditional sigil. A blizzard swept its surface, on it a herd of machines swirling pale grey and spirit blue into obscure, abstract shapes, into brush strokes. Leading them was a hunter on machine back with a sweeping stroke of red hair. The subject was fairly obvious, but when I asked Sekuli she was vague—any huntress, any mission, any direction through space or time.

I’ve left my mark on the Cut, in deed and now in image. I heard mixed mutterings from the people in the village, some calling the painting peculiar but beautiful, others calling it a defacement. I’ve heard it said that Sekuli’s paintings are prophecies. Makes it all the more important to know where that painted huntress is heading. 

I spent my final night in the Cut—at least for now.

[diazsdimples]

Fic Writing Review 2023 🥳

Words and Fics

222,730 words published to AO3

1 fandom (9-1-1)

Most recent drop: sugar and spice and all that smells nice (Buddie | 6.3k | E)

Longest fic: Buck's Baby (By Accident) (Buddie | 119k | G)

Top Fics By Kudos

Buck's Baby By Accident (Buddie | 119k | G)

Fucking Finally (Finally Fucking) (Buddie | 3.9k | E)

Burning with Need (Buddie | 3.8k | E)

First Words (Buddie | 2k | G)

In sickness and in health (but mostly in sickness) (Buddie | 3.7k | G)

My Fandom Events in 2023

Didn't do any! I joined the fandom in June and didn't write anything until July 🙃

Upcoming Events and Projects for 2024

This all depends on how many babies need delivering next year ngl, and how much of the year I spend on call but here's the WIPs I have so far!

To finish/publish:

With you I'm home - I quoted 20 chapters for this because Buck's Baby was also 20 chapters but I am 100% playing this by air. In this fic, we see Buck and Eddie embarking on their first year of marriage. They have a 2 year old son (Aidan) and Christopher, who is 14. This fic will show them navigating parenting a boisterous toddler and a sassy teenager while they begin their journey to having a new baby.

Cat Fic!! - this has been sitting in my WIPs folder for months now and I haven't had the beans to write it recently! Buck has adopted a cat with a curious name that brings a whole load of feelings to the forefront of his brain (is he saying I love you to the wrong Eddie?) and also provides some excellent material to fuck with his friends.

AUs that live in my head rent free

GTA AU - Listen I know this sounds weird, BUT, Buck and Eddie are heads of rival motorcycle gangs and constantly engage in turf wars. They realise they have the same product dealer for their cocaine lockups, who has been selling them dodgy product, resulting in loss of revenue for both men. They come together to confront the man realise they work extremely well together and who knows, maybe rival MC gang members can fall in love!

Piano Teacher!Buck, Parent!Eddie and Student!Chris - this was inspired by my Musician AU Play me like a fiddle, and was vaguely encouraged on Ao3 by @theotherbuckley, and will be a oneshot of Eddie coming to Buck after being referred to him by Christopher's physical therapy. Buck is more than happy to take Christopher on as a student is fast delighted by his constant, bubbly optimism. Eddie watches as Buck teaches his son and watches Christopher's confidence in himself build and realises, fuck, he's slowly falling in love with his son's teacher.

His Dark Materials AU - Buck finds himself in possession of an alethiometer and the more questions he asks of it, trying to figure out it's true meaning, the more he finds himself being drawn towards a dark, mysterious man he's noticed hanging around the college lately. Buck's daemon is instantly drawn to Eddie's daemon and the two find themselves unlikely friends, embarking on a quest to discover what it is the alethiometer is trying to warn them about.

Single Parents AU - Buck is the single father of two daughters and has just joined the 118 and is struggling to find his place. He meets another single father at his daughter's school in the pick up line one day and Eddie reveals he's training at the LAFD but struggling with childcare while he does it. Buck suggests they combine childcare and offers to help Eddie train, and even gets him a position in the 118 when Eddie graduates. How long will they coparent their three kids before they realise they've got it bad for each other?

Misc. ideas that haven't quite developed into fics yet but exist!

Magic Au - Buck and Eddie both have the power to control their auras (which have a colour and scent specific only to them) and go through rigorous training to enable them to save the earth from the Elder Race threatening to take over (inspired by Michael Scott's Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel)

Detectives AU - I've been watching too many Scandinavian crime shows and want to write Buddie solving a grisly murder

Chances are I'll come up with more over the summer!

Tags and rules under the cut

Rules: Feel free to show whatever stats you have. Only want to show Ao3 stats? Rock on. Want to include some quantitative info instead of stats? Please do this. Want to change how yours is presented? Absolutely do that. Would rather eat glass than do this? Please don’t eat glass but don’t feel like you have to do this either.

Tagged by @jesuisici33 and @hippolotamus thank you my loves!

(no pressure) tagging @malewifediaz @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @theotherbuckley @disasterbuckdiaz @thewolvesof1998 @callmenewbie @cal-daisies-and-briars @daffi-990 @monsterrae1 @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels @rainbow-nerdss @wikiangela @steadfastsaturnsrings @spagheddiediaz @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck @loserdiaz @smilingbuckley @fortheloveofbuddie @spotsandsocks (ignore if you've already done it!)