#rhaenyra targaryen imagines

[insomniakisses]

Misdirected Anger

Character: Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen (HOTD)

Reader type: Gender neutral

Warnings/Notes: mentions of B&C, mentions of blood and minor bodily harm, reader is married to Rhaenyra as is daemon, but no relationship to daemon stated, mentions of past trauma and Viserys being an awful father. Cannon Targcest, reader involved Incest, Targaryen reader. Hurt & Comfort

You couldn’t believe it. Every time you thought about it you felt sick. When your sister and wife, Queen Rhaenyra, had given the order for Aemond’s death you promised that to her along with her council. Daemon had presented you with his plan that he would sneak someone in to kill Aemond, promising it would only be Aemond who died.

You had agreed, too easily now you thought about it, helping him sneak out and sale off to kings landing while you distracted your wife. Usually you wouldn’t trust Daemon, he was known for his temper and violence but he was your wife’s husband and your uncle you had assumed you could.

You couldn’t. The news the following council meeting made you feel sick you stared at him, his smirking smug little face as your queen denied and denied the accusation. Having known the pain of loosing one’s child she would never have given such an order. Neither would you.

They excuse themselves to talk, the council departs all but you and Rhaenys. She watches you, the watery eyes and the far away expression and she scoffs.

“You thought you could trust him?” Its a statement that leaves her lips, as she knows the answer already.

Her expression, however, softens when she notices the blood dripping from your hands. Having dug your nails in to your palms and how you look like you might pass out. She moves to stand, guiding you up and to your chambers.

On the way a pissed off Daemon storms past pushing you aside in his temper. You call after him to no avail letting out a shaky breath when a guard informs you of the Queen summoning you. With a not so reassuring squeeze to the arm Rhaenys leaves you.

You follow the guard, the feeling of nausea rising and tears freely flowing. You feel like a child again, about to be berated for your actions by the ruler of the realm made to feel small and insignificant in the eyes of the crown.

You barely step a foot inside before shes yelling, her anger towards Daemon, only fuelled by their argument, all being directed at you. You can hardly think strait your head spins and your hearing comes and goes the noise of the room drowning out to focus on your erratic heart beat before an insult is thrown your way again.

Small. You feel it, like your back in kings landing and its your father standing in front of you. Her voice being replaced in your mind with his, he never did like you. A fact everyone well knows, Rhaenyra herself had been the one you ALWAYS ran to. At least until Daemon became more important. Yet here she was the same ice look in her eyes. The same insults.

“Useless.” “Idiotic.” “Good for nothing.” “Waste of a space.” “Disappointed.” “I hate yo-“

She stops herself on the last one, mouth hanging open as she gasps, having turned round to see your state. Knees to your chest head resting on them as you dig your nails into your skin breathing heavy.

“Baby!” She tells falling to her knees in front of you, but your already gone, shut down and deep into your own head.

Whimpers and babbles of apologies escaping you as you rock yourself, having learnt to sooth yourself from a young age, it breaks her heart knowing she caused you such great pain and she feels guilt at the jumbled words that leave your mouth next.

“Dae-“ *gasp* “mo-n” *gasp* “Aemond” *whimper* “pro-omised” *gasp* “kill” *breathing speeds up*

She nods scooping you into her arms, and onto her lap, her hand rubbing your back as she sways you like you would a small child. Three kisses are placed to your head as her other hands plays with your hair. Her soft voice whispering “breathe baby” and “I’ve got you little dragon”

Your eyes close as you grasp at her dress, head nuzzling against her neck as your breathing calms. Hiccups escaping now and then as silent tears fall against her neck.

She stands carrying you to bed laying you down softly you watch with wet eyes and droopy eyelids as she undresses you to your underclothes in an attempt to cool your warm skin down, undressing herself before climbing in bed with you.

She lays behind you, humming when you turn to lay on her chest, her hands doing back to playing with your hair and rubbing your back. She kisses your head again, her signature three kisses, her hand tracing “I Love You” on your back and you let your eyes clothes as she whispers apologies and praises. Promising to never treat you like that again.

You just hope this is still the case when Daemon returns.

[creganslover]

My Queen

Pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen x GN! Targaryen Dragonseed! Bastard! Reader

Requested?: Yes/No

Summary: Throwing your life away to travel to Dragonstone was not your initial idea, nor was claiming a dragon... and getting to bond with the Queen herself.

Word count: 3.0k

Warning/s: canon-divergence, foul language, graphic descriptions of death, lmk if i missed anything!

Note: first time writing for rhaenyra! i apologize if she might be ooc, but i really enjoyed writing this and had gotten taken away i think- anw, likes, reblogs, and feedbacks are greatly appreciated! <3

GIF is not mine, credits to the owner!

Falling into the dragon’s pit was not necessarily your idea.

Nor traveling to Dragonstone for that matter.

You were but one of the many common folk in King’s Landing, instead of sporting the signature platinum hair of the Targaryens, you sported their rare purple eyes instead, your hair was anything but platinum, but you weren’t royal, you were a bastard, often lingering gazes would be on you as you passed down the streets minding your own business.

Targaryen bastards weren’t uncommon, no, but you would all get the same looks of pity and shame even if they do not voice it out loud. 

Though you wouldn’t trade it for anything as your father had raised you, saying that your mother was a wonderful woman that gave you to him, however they did not get the ending of getting to be together till death.

Two and a half decades had passed as your father had fallen ill and shortly succumbed to it due to lack of treatment in which you desperately tried to work for.

And when the time came when you’ve heard rumors spreading through the streets of Rhaenyra Targaryen, the Black Queen, wishing to call upon anyone who had a form of Targaryen lineage to come to Dragonstone, especially those who were not afraid of death, those who would join were required to travel in two nights time.

It made you curious, the eldest daughter of Viserys calling upon Targaryen bastards and to be not afraid of death? You could almost chuckle as you traded your craft to a vendor on the street, until you heard she was finding those courageous enough to claim a dragon.

A fucking dragon. 

Something in the back of your mind nagged at you to throw all caution to the wind and try your luck in the game of roulette, to either die consumed by flames, or fight for the side of the Blacks with a dragon of your own. 

It was tempting. But last night as you peeked out your window to see people leaving their houses, of all ages, some also harboring silver hair, some not. Glancing to the knapsack you had perched upon the wall, filled with necessities you had prepared if you ever grew tired of King’s Landing, you bit the inside of your cheek. 

The footsteps began to fade out before you cursed and slung the bag over your shoulder, putting out your fires and candles before you glanced one last time at your house, hesitating.

Your father would have always wanted greater things for you, right? Though you’re not sure if those greater things involved risking your life for a dragon of all things. 

Slamming the door and clicking your locks shut, you quickly joined the throng of people, easily blending in as you reached past an exit out of King’s Landing, watching as you walked down the hill, the dawn barely breaking. A smart move leaving in the night without many eyes to bear witness. 

Getting in the boat taking you to the ship, you gave a last glance towards King’s Landing, your home. Your brows knitted before you let out a breath, glancing towards the people on the ship with you, some looking uncertain, some determined, some talking and possibly sharing the bizarre notion of it all. 

You sat alone by the front of the ship, arms resting on your knees as you sighed, shaking your head and possibly getting some sleep before you had arrived at your destination. 

Being shaken awake, you quickly complied, standing up and being a little disoriented from the trip, before your eyes had adjusted and there, you saw the intimidating Dragonstone Island. The castle sits on top of the hill, a mountain of smoke behind it, adding to its allure. 

The sun was up in the sky now, as you reached the shore, one by one getting out as your boots hit the white sand, moving forward as you all climbed up the steps towards the castle. Nearing it, you spot a figure up on the balcony, donned in red robes, platinum hair styled to a braid cascading down on one shoulder. 

Your eyes met, it was Rhaenyra Targaryen, assessing the strangers she was letting into her domain. You did not think about it much, truly you were the ones surprised she had even let you come this far. 

From then you were all inside, many knights standing guard as you were all led into a dimly lit room, and the faint deep growling rattling the walls could only mean one thing…

You were growing anxious, now backtracking your decision as you glanced at everyone in the room around you, they have surely heard it as well. 

The sound of approaching sets of footsteps pulled you from your dreaming, and there she was again, her Queensgard behind her walking down the stairs as you watched the scene unfold, another group coming from the other hall, dressed in long robes tied with red, some holding onto staff. You’ll soon catch whispers that it was the dragonkeepers. 

Your brows furrowed as the Queen herself and one from the dragonkeepers had conversed in High Valyrian, and by the tone of it, it looked like it was at a disagreement as the man gestured to all of you waiting in the room.  

After Rhaenyra had given her speech, most of the time her eyes always seemed to find yours as you stood at the back, and everytime it happened, there seemed to be a kindling energy within you. Perhaps it was just being in the close presence of royalty. 

“The dragon… named Vermithor, is the largest in the world after Vhagar, and… perhaps the most fierce,” Rhaenyra started. “He’s called the Bronze Fury.” Another deep grumbling in the distance could be heard. “We’ll go to him now.” 

As she started walking, she halts, turning to face all of you again. “May the gods bless you.” 

Following suit out into the hall and onto where a platform lay towards the deep cavern. The dragonpit, you all come close as Rhaenyra started to speak in High Valyrian, speaking of Vermithor. 

There was silence, until heavy footsteps grained the tunnel, your stance tensing as you never knew what awaited your faith. 

The deep roaring answered that. From the shadows came Vermithor, as large as she had depicted, its body partially hidden within the dark as it came to view, face scaled and horns as big shaping its head. Vermithor screeches as Rhaenyra commands the imposing creature, soon calming as she holds out her hand to palm against its snout. 

“Who among you would be first?” She asked, voice echoing in the dark tunnel. 

From then on, it was chaos. Vermithor flamed the first person to have gone up against him, before screams erupted, your senses jumping to overdrive as the thought of survival was paramount. This is what Rhaenyra had meant.

You dodged as the flames rained, Vermithor’s roars ringing in your ears, eyes scanning the area for some sort of cover as you saw the many knights preventing the other volunteers from being able to escape in order to live, fueling your spite. 

It was a gruesome scene as Vermithor not only burned, yet also decided to treat the folks as his food, a man’s scream fading as Vermithor swallowed him whole, before hunting the others down, their screams haunting. 

“Fuck!” You grumbled before you dashed to survival, instead being pushed and shoved all over, you tried to steady yourself, but you had stumbled, making your heel miss the platform. 

And that’s where you found yourself now after these events, a flickering torch in hand, running within the tunnels in the hopes to escape the clutches of death from a dragon. You had not even known if Vermithor had been claimed or everyone had been given death, and you dared not put notice on the sharp pain in your ankle as you had sprained it from your fall. 

You’ve lost track of time, not wondering how long or how far you’ve gone off to within the large tunnel. Your legs were starting to give out from exhaustion, your breathing uneven as you stepped onto the mud, making you try to stumble, about to land on your face when your foot had finally hit the ground.

Followed by what it sounded like cracking. Looking down, there were wisps of smoke, and oddly enough, large looking eggs nestled within the cocoon you had stepped on, making you furrow your brows as your body couldn’t even process the events this day had.

Up until you had heard a large grumbling behind you. Seven hells.

Steeling yourself with what little resolve you had left, you turned on your painful heel, torch in hand as you faced it. 

The dragon began to rouse itself, your eyes widening as you tried to move, its roar echoing and making you shrink onto yourself as your body was frozen, staring up at it as it had faced you fully. 

Its long neck moves fluidly as it stared you down, its gray scales gleaming from the cavity up in the tunnel. It was about to lunge at you.

Tired and weary, you’ve begun to accept your fate. 

Until its snout finally reached you and—

Poked you. It sent you tumbling back against the ground with a huff, making you scramble back and try to hoist yourself back up again until it happened again, the dragon’s snout nudging against your form, knocking you down and rolling until you had your back against the wall. Its screeching even sounded amused, as if making fun of you.

However, it stopped as you had your eyes screwed shut. 

You had fully thought you had died and gone to the Seven heavens, peeling your eyes open, your heart stopped in your chest. You watched as the dragon crooned and bowed its head toward you-

Realization had come dawning in, it chose you. A dragon had chosen you.

You did it, you had claimed a dragon. If your father would’ve witnessed such a thing, he would have no doubt about it. He always knew you were born for greater things. 

Due to your exhaustion, you could only laugh breathlessly, finally being able to calm down without the fear of death looming onto you.

“Get me out of here, will you?” You jokingly said, taking in deep breaths as you slowly stood up, hissing at the pain in your ankle, hesitating, but starting to limp towards the dragon as it eyed you, craning its neck, showing the apparent saddle on its back, worn and rusty. It seemed like she hadn’t had a rider in a long time. 

Before you knew it, you were on a dragon’s back, shooting out into the cavity as the grey-scaled dragon roared at feeling the breeze outside, its wings spread full as it gathered air and momentum. 

You literally had to hold on for dear life as you began to get woozy, exclaiming in triumph as you had rounded Dragonstone. 

Rhaenyra had been alerted of this as she ran out the balcony, watching as Silverwing screeched with its new rider on the she-dragon’s back. 

After the scene, you had been brought down and onto your own personal chambers where you would be staying, as a Maester had been bought for you to treat your ankle, giving you milk of the poppy to numb the pain. 

You were also given handmaidens that helped you into cleaner clothes, thanking them as you tried to refuse their service, not used to being treated as such in the span of a few hours. 

Resting against your bed, you stared up at the ceiling, wondering where your life would lead to now, it was such a funny feeling that you would believe it if someone had told you it were nothing but a dream. 

The door creaking as its response to being opened pulled you from your thoughts, making you glance and wonder if it's just the maester coming to check upon you, when your eyes almost popped out of its sockets to see Rhaenyra herself. 

Sitting up right and swinging your feet off the bed, you cleared your throat. “Your grace,” You greeted, standing, though weakly as your ankle was still sore and wrapped in bandages. Rhaenyra held her hand up, motioning. “You are hurt, stay seated.” Her voice comes in a soft tone. 

Following as you sit back down upon your bed, Rhaenyra glides through the room, hands clasped together. It felt like being surrounded by an angel, she did certainly look like one as you were able to get a closer look every folk would want to kill for, even. 

“You have done a good job,” Began Rhaenyra. “Two of you have managed to claim Vermithor and Silverwing.” You made a mental note that your dragon was named Silverwing, fitting.

“I did not think I would find my way out of it alive if I am honestly speaking, your grace.” You replied, making Rhaenyra nod in response, noticing your eyes were a deep shade of purple. “Those lives lost today are for a greater cause in the future, it would prevent further bloodshed.” She responded. 

Taking a deep breath, you understood her point. Staring up to find her still looking at you, sending you to avert her gaze. “Your eyes are quite comely.” Rhaenyra had suddenly said, catching you both off guard. 

An awkward silence rose, before Rhaenyra cleared her throat. “I apologize,” She said as you managed to let out a small grin, shaking your head. “No harm done, your grace.”

This in turn made Rhaenyra smile, finding light in the situation. Clearing her throat, she shifted to a more serious expression. “As you have claimed Silverwing, from this day forth you are to train the ways of dragonriders, learn High Valyrian, and pledge your loyalty to your Queen.” 

The new responsibilities you had seemed a far reach back then, but here you were now stood in front of Rhaenyra Targaryen herself, asking you to pledge your loyalty to her. 

Carefully moving, you had bent the knee in front of her, not putting much strain on your swollen ankle as you bowed. “I pledge my fealty to you, the true Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, I offer all that I am, to aid you in your cause.” 

Rhaenyra looked relieved as you bent the knee for her. “Stand.” She commanded, making you follow a second later, meeting her eyes again. “You will begin at once when your ankle has healed, for now you shall rest and someone will call upon you.”

With a bow to her grace, you watched as Rhaenyra turned and left your chambers. 

This was the beginning of a new chapter in your life. 

As your ankle had healed, the lessons did began, with Maester Gerardys teaching you key command words in High Valyrian, practicing the phrases during the afternoons, whilst you were practicing dragonriding in the morning. 

You had also managed to meet those able to claim House Targaryen’s dragons, Hugh who had claimed Vermithor, and Addam who had claimed Seasmoke. 

Though it seemed like Rhaenyra had taken a liking to you in the midst of these preparations, your fiery spirit is something to always look out for as Silverwing proved to match your energy. 

The feast she held between you and the other three as well as her son Jacaerys and her step daughter Baela. You had managed to hold a conversation with Rhaenyra well, telling her of your background as a trader in King’s Landing and how your father had solely raised you. Jacaerys had even begun to respect you even if he was still apprehensive in welcoming new dragonriders who were not of blood. 

Nonetheless, Rhaenyra found herself taken by your charm and wit, even taking the time to show you around Dragonstone herself whenever she was free from council meetings, your presence a respite from the pressure she had been feeling, translating her appreciation in lingering touches and stares.

There was one time you had been flying around Dragonstone, getting to try banking left and right as you tugged on the ropes on your newly reformed saddle, when Silverwing had decided to do a barrel roll, sending you both spinning in the sky with her strong form growling in delight. 

Rhaenyra had been watching that time, and her heart nearly leapt to her throat as you lost hold onto your saddle, her grip tightening against the stone ledge, eyes widening.

Though the sight of you pumping your fist in the air and whooping successfully had her releasing a breath she wasn’t aware she had held in watching you. The spike of worry led her to assess what you had meant to her. 

“Did you like the trick I did up there, your grace?” You casually asked as you met her, smiling and beginning to shrug off your gloves. “You had me worried at the start, but you and Silverwing do make a great pair.” Rhaenyra replied. “In fact, your move would make a great maneuver to dodge whatever the Greens might throw at us.” 

You couldn’t tell if she had been joking or not, but the slight smirk on her face made you reciprocate, your stomach oddly knotting at the feeling. 

“Perhaps I can teach you how to do so on Syrax, yet I believe the safety of our Queen is of greatest importance.” You lightly teased, feeling like you were walking on eggshells. 

But that does make Rhaenyra laugh, cheeks flushing pink, in truth, she had begun to get fond of you, and she hummed in thought. “My safety is of great importance, yes, but you’ve proven yourself a capable dragonrider and warrior,” She gestured, as you had been taking combat lessons to the side in your free time, keeping yourself in shape as well as your skills. 

“I would be at peace and content knowing I have you to protect and fight for me.” It was a simple phrase, yet it seemed to click at the two of you that it held something even deeper under the surface. 

Both of you could feel it. “And I am honored to be one of those protecting and fighting for you, my Queen.” 

[goldensunflowe-r]

When the moment started: I'm not jealous at all... My queen has needs. 😌

After the scene ended: (Crying) That should have been ME!!! 😭😭😭😭

Pictures - @justalittleofyourlove.

[ichorai]

number 13 ; rhaenyra targaryen.

track thirteen of BROKEN MACHINE.

pairing ; rhaenyra targaryen x lannister!f!reader

synopsis ; in another life, she could’ve been with you, she was sure. a life of bliss and a life not ruled by the laws of men.

words ; 5.4k

themes ; angst, mild fluff

warnings / includes ; takes place from e3-8, rhaenyra and reader are bisexual, allusions to sex, infidelity, foul language, lots of time jumps sorry ;-; nearly two decades is crammed into this, reader is later married to jasper wylde and has his children, mentions of other hotd characters, jason lannister being annoying, not quite a happy ending cries :(

The celebration for Aegon’s second name day was in full swing. Large, lavish tents were erected, decorated with flowers and greenery of all sorts. Every which way you looked, there were tables full to the brim with cakes and pastries and cheeses, goblets of wines and platters of fruits. Outside the tents lined stalls offering roasted meats dripping with rich oils, exotic delicacies from Essos, and all sorts of extravagant animals parading for show. 

You’d taken to watching the blue peacocks with muted fascination—it was the first time you’d seen birds that large. Sure, the doves at Casterly Rock grew plump and lazy, but they were no grand feat.

Your brothers, the lion twins of house Lannister, Jason and Tyland, stood by your side. They were bickering amongst themselves about who would be the first to speak to the Princess, Rhaenyra Targaryen. They weren’t being too quiet about it either, loudly proclaiming that the other twin would have to wait their turn.

“Toss a coin,” you boredly said, picking up a golden-green grape from a gilded tray on a nearby table and popping it into your mouth. “Though, knowing you two, you’d probably be too bull-headed to decide who gets heads and who gets tails.”

“I get heads!” both of them announced at once. They glared at each other for a moment, before Tyland propped his hands on his hips and blew out an exasperated sigh. 

“Fine. You go first. The one that goes last will be the one that she remembers, anyway,” Tyland told his twin, his Lannister pride getting the better of him. He arched an eyebrow and jutted his chin out to the Princess, who’d just strode out of the tent. 

You tore your eyes away from the ridiculous birds, fixing your gaze on Rhaenyra. Her hair shone a pearlescent white beneath the sun’s brilliance, nearly as bright as the golden rings she twirled about her fingers, hands clutched closely to the deep red bodice of her dress. She was a grand beauty, you surmised. It was no wonder your brothers were so desperate for her hand—though you were certain they only wanted her for the power that came with her rather than the Princess herself. 

A smile twitched over your lips upon seeing Rhaenyra lean over the sweets, sneakily plucking a lemon slice off of one of the cakes, popping it into her mouth just as quickly as she had swiped it.

Off Jason went not a second later, content with speaking to her before his brother. In his mind, he was sure she’d fall in love with him on the spot—how could she consider anyone else when he could offer her anything she wanted? A handsome, strong husband, as much gold as she could yearn for, and the promise of children with golden-silver hair?

“She doesn’t look too pleased,” you murmured to Tyland, studying the way Rhaenyra’s features soured with distaste the longer Jason spoke.

The corner of his mouth tilted upwards in mild amusement, but he said nothing else. Instead, he slunk off to disappear within the tent, needing to speak to the King about urgent matters concerning Prince Daemon’s reckless endeavors.

Jason could feel his little sister’s stare bore into the back of his neck. It made him nervous, despite his larger-than-life ego—he itched to prove to his family that he was capable of winning the Princess over. 

“Was your own second name day as grand as this?” he crowed, trying his best to appear nonchalant. 

Barely sparing him a glance, Rhaenyra folded her fidgeting hands behind her back. She trained her eyes on the large bonfire situated across the field. “I honestly don’t recall, and neither will Aegon.” There was a twinge of disdain in her voice, but that went largely unnoticed by Jason.

“Lord Jason Lannister,” he said, bowing his head ever so slightly.

Rhaenyra half-smiled. “I gathered that from all the lions.”

Hastily, Jason chanced a look down at his apparel—he was decked in crimson and shimmering gold and embroidered lions of all sizes. He was practically a walking banner for his house. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.”

“Your twin serves on my father’s council,” Rhaenyra told him, narrowing her eyes in scrutiny. 

Snapping his fingers, Jason beckoned for a servant to come forth and bring him a chalice of wine. “Tyland is frightfully dull, gods love him. My sister finds me far more entertaining.” It wasn’t a complete lie—Jason would often take you riding outdoors whilst Tyland took to reading in complete silence with you. Jason merely surmised that you enjoyed your time more with him rather than his twin. He plucked a goblet off the tray and held it out for Rhaenyra to taste. “The finest honeyed wine you’ll ever try. Made in Lannisport, of course.”

He didn’t catch the way Rhaenyra subtly rolled her eyes. “Of course,” she said. She took a small sip, humming mildly. It tasted like every other wine she’d had. A part of her wondered if the sister Jason had been talking about was around. Was she in the tent, amongst the women gossiping around the Queen Alicent? Immediately, her mood soured once more.

“The Kingswood is a fine hunting ground,” Jason started speaking again, eager to spark a flame between them. “But the best spot is to be found at Casterly Rock. Have you been?”

“Once,” Rhaenyra replied. “On a tour with my mother, when I was young. Honestly can’t recall much of that, either.”

With a grin, Jason kept boasting on, “The Rock is thrice the height of the Hightower in Oldtown, taller still than the Wall in the north.” He stepped closer to her. “It’s been said that if one were to stand in the tower on a perfect day, one could see clear across the Sunset Sea.”

“Must be quite something.”

“I don’t have a dragon pit, of course,” he said, voice lowering an octave, “but I do have the means and the resources to build one.”

Arching a brow, Rhaenyra leveled her eyes with his. Amethysts against emeralds. “Why would you need a dragon pit?”

“To house dragons, of course,” he bluntly replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I’d do anything for my Queen. Or… my lady wife.”

There was a beat of silence. Realization and anger flooded her features all at once moments later. 

“Thank you for the wine,” she said with a stiff, polite smile, handing him the chalice. With that, she stormed off, making her way back to the tent. 

You watched her disappear, before fixing your eyes on Jason. You wondered what in seven hells Jason had said to make her so upset. Knowing him, he’d probably soiled the mood with his ridiculous self-importance.

Inside the tent, Rhaenyra made a bee-line to her father, interrupting the conversation he was holding with Lyonel Strong and, as her rotten luck would have it, Tyland Lannister. 

“Is that what I am to you?” she hissed. “A prize to proffer about to the great houses?”

Pursing his lips, the King calmly told his daughter, “You’re of age, Rhaenyra. And Jason Lannister is an excellent match.”

“He’s arrogant and self-serious!”

From behind the two, Tyland could barely hold back his victorious laugh. 

“Well, I thought you might have that in common,” Viserys said. Rhaenyra recoiled with a scowl at his words, as if she’d been struck. “Since you came of age, I’ve been slowly drowning in a lake parchment flung from every corner of the realm. Marriage proposals, all. And I have tried, oh so often, to discuss it with you! But you’ve refused me at every turn!” His voice raised with frustration. Several curious heads turned to see what the commotion was.

Baring her teeth, Rhaenyra insisted, “That is because I do not wish to get married!”

“Even I do not exist above tradition and duty, Rhaenyra!” the King yelled.

Rhaenyra hotly spewed out a protest, but was quickly cut off by Otto Hightower. The two were reeled back in from their argument, noticing everybody’s prying eyes on them.

“You must marry,” said Viserys to Rhaenyra. And that was that. 

He turned to Otto, asking what it was he needed to say, effectively dismissing Rhaenyra. The Princess angrily pushed her way out of the tent, the heels of her boots scuffing deep into the dirt once she exited.

“What do you think has got her knickers all twisted?” Jason asked, taking a large bite into a sizzling skewer of meat. The two of you watched as Rhaenyra made her way to the tethered horses beside the tent. 

You shook your head, exasperated. “You’re such a fool, Jason. You know nothing about women. Did you even try to ask if she wanted to marry you, instead of presuming it to be so?” Before he could respond, you were already walking off, leaving your indignant older brother in your wake. You stopped by the sweet desserts on one of the long tables, picking up a delicate slice of lemon cake.

A coil of nervousness sat within the pits of your stomach as you approached the Princess. You were near the same age as Rhaenyra, if not just a few moons younger. If it were anyone else, you would’ve easily made friends without hesitation. But this was the Princess—she was royalty.

And it didn’t quite help that she was so beautiful.

“I’m sorry about him,” you said, pulling Rhaenyra’s attention away from the horses, to you. She spun the golden rings about her fingers in quick motions. She studied your face first, before darting down to the simple dark dress you were wearing, detailed with yellow embroidery. It took her a moment to realize that you were Jason and Tyland’s sister—you shared many physical similarities with your brothers, though Rhaenyra had to admit that you were far prettier than they were. “Jason is an imbecile. He thinks his own cock should be gilded with gold.”

Your words made Rhaenyra smile, the corner of her eyes crinkling as she laughed. A strange sort of pride festered within your chest.

“I take it the Lannister twins are your brothers?”

“Unfortunately, Princess.”

She hummed in amusement. Her eyes flickered to the cake you were holding.

“Would you, uhm—” You cleared your throat, a nervous flush creeping up your neck, spilling over the skin of your cheeks. “Would you like the lemon slice? I saw you nick one off before my brother came to you. I… I usually find it a bit too sour for my taste. Would be a waste for me to toss it away.” 

After a moment of consideration, she nodded, and you held it out for her to take. She murmured a sound of content at the tart sourness, before shooting you a small smile.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” She fiddled with her rings as you absent-mindedly tugged at a loose thread on your dress. “I understand how you feel. I mean, obviously not as much pressure as you, I’m sure, but… my father wants to marry me off as soon as possible.”

Rhaenyra’s features softened ever so slightly. “It’s terrible. Fathers forcing us into marriages we don’t want. If I was born a man, none of this would be a problem.”

You turned your head to glance over at Jason, who had already moved on to flirting with other ladies of the court. “I’m glad I was not born a man. Or else, I’d be afeard of turning out like my idiot brothers.”

There it was again. Rhaenyra chortled at your words, her grin growing wider. 

“I’m also glad you’re not like them. You’re far easier to talk to. Much less…”

“Of a Lannister?” It was your turn to laugh. You wrinkled your nose humorously. “Yes, there’s enough lions in our castle as it is. I’m content just being me.”

With a nod, Rhaenyra scanned her gaze along the crowd. “It was nice meeting you, Lady…”

“Y/N.”

Her violet irises glimmered. “It was nice meeting you, Lady Y/N. Thank you for the lemon. Enjoy the festivities.”

You nodded and gave her a slight curtsy, watching as she straddled one of the horses. A part of you wanted to ask where she was off to, but you wisely stayed silent, instead taking a bite of your cake. It was pleasantly sweet on your tongue, just slightly acidic with its aftertaste. 

She gripped the horse’s reins and pressed her knees into its flank, urging it into a fast gallop. The Princess disappeared into the forest, Criston Cole shouting after her, hot on her heels.

During Rhaenyra’s tour for a husband—a tour that her father forced her into, one that she was not at all keen on—she made a stop at the Westerlands. Dozens upon dozens of eligible suitors lined the halls of Casterly Rock, awaiting their moment to present themselves to the Princess.

She was bored, to say the least. None of these men appealed to her.

Certainly not Jason and Tyland Lannister, who’d been relentless in their approach ever since she stepped foot in the castle. They showered her with gifts and gold and heaps upon heaps of riches. 

It’d only been a few hours, and Rhaenyra found herself wondering where you were.

“Lord Tyland,” she called, and the tall, blonde man perked up.

“Yes, Princess?”

“Where is your dear sister, might I ask?”

For a moment, Tyland faltered. What would the Princess want with you, of all people? 

“She’s usually in the library at this time of day,” he replied, miffed. “Would you like me to go fetch her?”

A touch of a smile reached Rhaenyra’s lips. “No, it’s quite alright. Would you be so kind as to escort me to her?”

Both Jason and Tyland exchanged indiscernible looks before Tyland bowed his head and beckoned her along, down the hall. “Right this way, Princess.”

The library was a grand hall, decked with hundreds of looming oaken shelves housing many rows of old, worn books. Tyland silently led her further inside, where there was a small alcove by a window, streaming golden light within the otherwise dim library. You were curled up by the glass, soaking up the light, reading fervently through a tome of alchemic history.

At the sound of footsteps, your eyes snapped away from the yellowing pages, widening upon seeing the Princess.

“You’re dismissed, Lord Tyland,” Rhaenyra told your brother.

Tyland opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it. With a nod and a sharp look in your direction, he took his leave.

“Princess Rhaenyra. I’ve heard you’re on tour,” you said, slightly breathless. With fumbling hands, you shut the book closed and put it off to the side.

She clasped her hands behind her back, watching you with both caution and intrigue. “I am. It’s a dreadful affair.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. What brings you here, though?”

“I wanted to get away from your brothers.”

You knocked your head back and beamed as you laughed. Rhaenyra smiled then, wide and true. It was probably the first time she’d smiled since she set off on this wretched tour.

“You and me both, then.” With that, you stood up, smoothing out the creases in your soft crimson dress. The color certainly brought out warmth in your eyes, she thought. “Come. I can show you around the castle, if you’d like.”

“Please,” she said, breathily. She briefly thought about the long line of suitors waiting for her. None of them seemed worth the time. 

But you seemed worth all the time in the world.

The two of you linked arms, and you led her out of the library. It was a beautiful castle, with much to explore—but Rhaenyra found it hard to concentrate when all she could think about was your soft skin pressing against hers. 

After you’d shown her the lavish halls, the marbled pathways of the gardens, and the history room full of artifacts and prized Lannister heirlooms, you finally stopped by a gilded staircase.

“Up there are my chambers. My brothers sleep on the other end of the castle. I doubt you’d want to go there.”

The two of you giggled with each other, and she leaned even closer.

“Can we go up?”

“To my chambers?” you asked, hesitant.

For a moment, Rhaenyra feared she’d stepped over some unsaid boundary. She liked you a lot. Perhaps more than she should, for this was only the second time she’s met you. 

“It’s alright if you don’t want to—”

“No!” you blurted, hands shooting out to hold hers. Your thumb brushed over her several rings. “Come. I was just surprised, was all. Nobody’s ever really wanted to come to my room before.”

The two of you made your way up. Not once did you relinquish your hold on her—and not once did Rhaenyra pull away. Tension crackled between you, but not the hostile kind. This was… this was the type that kindled fire within your chest. The kind that made your breaths grow shallow and your cheeks grow heated.

Your chambers were tidy and spacious, with a four-poster bed against one wall and a gold-detailed table across the room. Several windows were open, showcasing a beautiful view of the seas, glittering hues of clementines and tangerines.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, breathless, resting her hands upon the windowsill. “No wonder Lord Jason boasted about the view here.”

“Jason would boast about anything,” you snorted, coming to stand beside her. “But it is beautiful.”

Rhaenyra turned to look at you, finding you much closer than anticipated. She studied your features—the slope of your nose, the way your lips were parted ever so slightly, the beauty mark just below your right eye. 

“Have you ever laid with anyone, Y/N?” she asked, voice quiet yet bold.

Surprised at her question, you reared your head back with raised brows. But she only stepped closer, her nose nearly brushing yours when she leaned forward. A bout of shyness overtook you, warmth spilling over your cheeks. 

“No, Princess,” you whispered breathily, head tilting. She glanced down to your mouth when you nervously ran your tongue along your bottom lip. 

A second of silence. 

Rhaenyra took one more step, and you could feel her whole body press flush against yours. A part of you wondered if she could feel your heart thrumming loud within your ribcage. She watched you, waiting for any sign of uncomfort.

With that, she kissed you. Your noses slotted, your lips melded, and her hand cradled your face as you fisted the expensive fabrics of her dress. It was near magnetic, the way you two clicked into each other.

She tasted of lemons, you hazily registered. Of course she did.

When she finally pulled away, chest rising and falling rapidly, you found yourself chasing after her lips, eyes hooded with want.

She laughed at that, kissing your cheek once, then fluttered several over the bridge of your nose.

“What about the tour, Princess?” you murmured just before she captured your lips once more.

“Fuck the tour,” she replied, tugging you towards your tall bed.

Her words made you laugh, overcome with giddiness. “Fuck the tour,” you agreed.

A year had floated by since Rhaenyra’s tour. Much to your dismay, your father had you betrothed and wed to Jasper Wylde in a matter of a few moons. He was a handsome man, but you found very few things to speak to him about. It was clear that Jasper saw you as little else than something pretty to fuck—after all, you were the fourth wife he’d taken. Probably wouldn’t be his last, either.

There was only one positive that came out of your marriage to Lord Wylde.

You lived at the Red Keep because of your husband’s place on the small council as the Master of Law. And that allowed you and Rhaenyra to stay close, kindling the fires of your secret romance, along with your more… sexual escapades.

Life in the capital was utter bliss. Save for the few times Lord Wylde bedded you, of course. Those weren’t quite pleasant—most of the time you simply shut your eyes and let him do as he pleased with you. You much preferred your time with the Princess than with your own husband.

Times such as now, for example: your arm wound with hers as the two of you strolled in the Keep’s expansive gardens. You leisurely bent down to sniff the blooming flowers, the bushes bearing assortments of roses and peonies and marigolds. Rhaenyra was complaining about her father bringing up proposals again, all huff and puff and pout. 

“Why are you smiling?” she queried once you shot her an amused glance. “This is serious!”

“Rhaenyra, my dearest,” you told her, grin widening as you clutched her hand all the tighter. “I care very much for your struggles, I do, but your pouting is quite funny.”

With a sigh, the Princess reached out to trace a finger along the petals of a flower. You watched her movements, your smile falling away. “I suppose you don’t have to worry about it anymore. You’ve got your husband already.”

“Yes,” you hummed, stepping closer so that your chest pressed flush up against her forearm. “Lord Jasper is… tolerable. But he never pleasures me the way you do.”

Her purple irises seemed to darken in a matter of seconds, darting down to your parted lips. With that, she seized hold of you and you hurried out of the gardens, back into the castle. In your haste, you both tripped over your skirts and the many staircases, your giggles echoing over the stone walls. 

Once the two of you had successfully snuck into Rhaenyra’s chambers without any spectators noticing, her lips immediately slanted against yours. It was an embrace of fiery passion, as your hands spidered down to her waist and yanked her closer, reaching behind to blindly undo the threads of her dress.

“You’re getting better at this,” she murmured when you pulled her dress off in a matter of minutes, leaving her in just a thin shift. She began trailing hot kisses down your neck.

Gradually, the two of you made your way to her bed, leaving a haphazard trail of tossed-off clothing along the way.

It was a blissful evening, to say the least. But the days of wine and roses wouldn’t last long, the two of you soon came to realize. 

Later that same moon, Rhaenyra was betrothed to her second cousin, Laenor Velaryon. And, to your turmoil, you found that you were pregnant for the first time with Jasper Wylde’s babe.

Ten years passed in a flurry, filled to the brim with many joyful ups and even more tumultuous downs.

You had your two children: your eldest, Petyr, was the spinning image of his father, with dark locks of hair and molten brown eyes. He was quiet and observant, never one to speak his mind. The youngest, Aella, was a bright and bubbly young girl, her curly hair a shade lighter than her older brother’s, but they shared the same eyes. In short, they didn’t look much like you.

That was one thing you shared in common with Rhaenyra. 

After she was wed to Laenor, she had three sons—each of the boys harboring none of the traditional Valyrian physique of silver-white hair and purple irises. Instead, they bore an uncanny resemblance to Lord Harwin Strong, a man you knew Rhaenyra was seeing for quite some time. There were even instances where you joined in with them, but those were few and far in between. 

Your children were close friends with hers, and you and Rhaenyra were happier than ever.

That was, until Laena Velaryon passed away. Which, much to Rhaenyra’s intrigued curiosity and your dismay, Daemon Targaryen was a single man once more. You were never quite fond of him, judging from his infamous reckless behavior and callous nature, only highlighted by Rhaenyra’s fond recollections of him during her childhood. 

Eerily soon after Laena’s death, Laenor also mysteriously passed away. Something was afoot, and you only pieced things together once Rhaenyra approached you the next day. She did not look like she was in mourning for her late husband—in fact, she glowed more than anything. 

“Come with me,” she whispered to you in the dead of night, gathering your hands in hers and staring straight at you. “I’m leaving for Dragonstone to be with Daemon. We’re to be married. I want you there.”

She said your name then, all sweet and silky, as if her tongue was coated with honey.

Your lips parted. Shock, incredulity, and anger flashed across your features all at once. “Rhaenyra, your husband died yesterday.”

“I know,” she said. “He’s…” 

There was a pause.

The two of you gazed at each other. You could feel your heart starting to fracture, even though you weren’t even sure what exactly was happening just yet.

“Come with me,” she repeated. “We can be happy together in Dragonstone. It’s a beautiful castle.”

Your eyes flitted across the hall, to the closed doors you knew led to your children’s chambers. 

“My husband wouldn’t stand for it,” you told her. 

“I’m the Princess. The heir to the Iron Throne. He wouldn’t have a choice,” she stressed.

Blowing out an unconvinced scoff, you shook your head. “I have children now, Nyra. I can’t afford to be as irresponsible as you are.”

The woman in front of you drew her hands away, clearly stung. “Your children would have a good life on Dragonstone. Luke has even taken an affection to Aella, my love.”

A part of your heart crumbled when she called you hers. Nonetheless, you shook your head again.

“These are dangerous times… the realm is growing uneasy. I just don’t think it’d be safe there for me and my children. Besides… a lion has no place in a den of dragons.” 

You chose your words carefully, but clearly, they weren’t careful enough.

“I leave by daybreak. The ship will have space for you,” she murmured lowly, but she took a decisive step back.

Salt pricked the corners of your eyes. Stinging, burning, hurting. You wanted to kiss her for offering, and yet you wanted to slap her for leaving you.

“Goodbye, Princess,” you said, bowing your head. 

Anguish colored over her features. With not another word, she turned and began to walk away, her dark dress fluttering in her wake. She left you there, heartbroken, the both of you not knowing that that was the last time you’d ever speak to each other.

Six years crawled on by—slow and dragging. Life at the Keep without Rhaenyra had proven to be rather dreary. You missed her, awfully so. Things just weren’t the same without the Princess—your lover around.

The realm was beginning to split, it was obvious by now, especially with King Viserys growing increasingly ill and rarely making an appearance outside of his chambers. Greens against blacks, supporters of Queens against supporters of Kings, Targaryens against Targaryens. 

Personally, you fully believed that Rhaenyra should take over her role as Queen once her father passed, but your husband seemed to think differently. You would hear him mutter aloud at times, his and Otto Hightower’s plans to put Aegon on the throne. Your brothers were none too quiet on the matter, either, both the twins boldly vocalizing their distaste to see a woman ruling the realm. A part of you wondered if they were all hatching a plan to supplant Rhaenyra during small council meetings instead of tending to actual matters of importance.

Not only that, Alicent Hightower grew more and more bitter over the years, practically ruling in her husband’s stead alongside her father. It seemed nearly the entire capital had turned their back on their future Queen they swore fealty to. 

You oft worried for your children and their safety, especially with the looming threat of war on the horizon. It was a messy affair, that was made clear, and you were nearly certain that none of it would end cleanly. 

The news that Rhaenyra was coming back to the Keep to reaffirm Lucerys’ claim to Driftmark didn’t delight you as you thought it would, for so many years. Instead, it made you worry even more—nothing good would come from her visit. She was a past love for you now, a woman you scarcely knew anymore. And yet your heart still ached when you thought of her. Of the life you didn’t choose by remaining in the capital.

Besides, Rhaenyra wasn’t here for pleasure. She wasn’t here to see you. She was here for her son—the very son that sliced out Aemond Targaryen’s eye. Alicent would not see kindly to Luke taking over Driftmark, especially with her suspicions of his true heritage. 

Tensions ran high in the castle, that was safe to say.

And so, that was why you brought your children to the Godswood, a place of peace and much-needed quiet. Everybody was abuzz in the castle. Murmurs and whispers and an uncomfortable weight hanging about the air. You couldn’t stand any of it.

You leaned against the trunk and shut your eyes for a moment, listening to the whistling wind and the chirps of birds. Petyr quietly read a book beside you and Aella traipsed over the gnarled tree’s roots that poked up from the soft grass, giggling to herself. They were good children, you thought. They didn’t deserve to see war in their lifetime.

“Do you think Lucerys remembers me?” Aella asked, her arms spread wide open as she balanced herself on a large stone. “We were so close when we were young.”

You cracked an eye open and spared her a sweet smile. “I’m sure he does, darling.”

She’d always harbored affections for him, ever since they were young children. It ran through the family, you surmised.

Your mind flooded with memories of all the times you spent with Rhaenyra here. Stealing kisses beneath the shade when nobody was around, holding hands in the gardens, hurrying down the halls of the castle with linked arms. The two of you were only children then, but it was the happiest you’d ever been.

That was where Rhaenyra found you. 

In truth, she was trying to find Princess Rhaenys to discuss the matter of betrothals, but she was glad she stumbled across you. You were just as beautiful as the day she left, Rhaenyra thought, her purple eyes curious as she watched you affectionately lean against your son. You spoke then, calling out to your daughter to be careful after she tripped over a fallen branch.

Gods, even the sound of your voice made Rhaenyra’s chest feel heavy. She ran her palms down the fabric of her black dress, over her prominent baby bump, and anxiously turned her rings about her fingers. 

After Rhaenyra studied you a little longer, she noticed that there was a distinct sort of heartache with your expression—one that Rhaenyra was sure she mirrored. So much of her wanted to step out of the shadows. She wanted to wrap you in her arms, kiss the beauty mark beneath your right eye, and tell you how much she missed you.

But she didn’t do any of those things. The two of you hardly knew each other now. Merely two strangers that used to know each other in a different lifetime. 

Rhaenyra could hardly swallow around the lump in her throat. Her feelings for you hadn’t mellowed with time, even though she’d convinced herself that they had during her time on Dragonstone. But seeing you right there made years of self-preservation come crashing down in an instant. 

First loves were always the most painful.

And with an exhale that trembled much more than Rhaenyra would care to admit, she turned on her heel and took her leave, off to find Rhaenys. 

In another life, she could’ve been with you, she was sure. A life of bliss and a life not ruled by the laws of men. 

But this was not that life.

And Rhaenyra had come to accept that.

a/n ; thank you for reading !! i made picrews for how i pictured the lannister!reader to look like (you obviously can picture her however you want, though), along with her children, petyr & aella wylde :)

[frost-queen]

A mother's love (Daughter!Reader x Rhaenyra Targaryen)

Requested by: anon, Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22 @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco,   @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine

Touching your forehead it was almost unbearable. The throbbing pain that pulsated around your skull. What ever infected you this morning, you had no idea. The only thing you knew was sicking it out was not an option. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath. Wanting to block out so many inputs that kept giving your brain the thrill of it’s life.

Lifting your head up, you removed your fingers from against your forehead. Suddenly noticing your brother Jace staring your way. Brows furrowed with confusion written all over him. A simple gesture of his, speaking loudly. What are you on about? You shook your head with a soft smile to indicate to him it was alright.

That nothing was plaguing you. Jace mouthed if you were sure, making you nod. A quirk of his eyebrow and a subtle step back showed you he wasn’t going to bother you with it any longer. You were so caught up with communicating with your brother, you hardly noticed anyone else had taken in interest in you and your doings.

Your grandfather, the king, clearing his throat. It made you turn your head to him. Seeing how impatient he got from you and your brother disturbing the gathering. Bowing your head, you asked for forgiveness, hands folded neatly in front of you. He moved his fingers up from the iron throne he sat in with a simple nod.

Pressing your lips together, you remained silent not wanting to disturb the gathering. Across the room stood the greens. Aemond quirking his eyebrow at you. Tilting his head slightly as if observing you. Using your brows, bringing them up in a swift motion, you asked in code what his problem was.

Aemond looked briefly away, hearing the words of the king. When he looked back upon you, he brought his brows together looking pitiful. The pain in your head kept bugging you. Then there was the chill all over your body. Hot and cold at the same times. Shivering whilst drops of sweat forming underneath your hair.

King Viserys got up, as you all dropped down to bow or curtsy. All watching him leave. When he left, your family slowly followed. Aemond coming by your side. Before he could say something, Aegon commented snarky. – “Looking rather pale cousin. Trying on a new look?” – he laughed loud.

Aemond pushed his brother’s head away. Aegon tensed his jaw ready to leave a rude comment when both your brothers came joining you. – “Got something to say Aegon?” – Jace said, placing his arm on your shoulder as you had all come to a stop. Luke standing on the other side, arms crossed, daring Aegon to even speak another word.

Aegon puffed loud, flipping his hand at Luke. Luke scoffed loud at how silly he was. – “Are you alright Y/n?” – Aemond asked wanting to touch your forehead. You slapped his hand away before he could touch it. – “I’m fine!” – you lied. – “Aemond is right, are you alright Y/n? You seem a little sick…” – Luke joined in, pointing it out.

You slapped his hand away as well. – “I am fine!” – you shouted out again to mark your point. Biting through the sting of pain through your body, you strutted away. – “Y/n wait!” – Jace coming to run after you. – “I’m fine Jace.” – you commented over your shoulder. He took a hold of your elbow. – “You don’t look fine. You should lay down. I’ll tell mother.”

“No!” – you pulled away rather sudden. – “I’ll handle myself! Not a word to mother!” – you insisted with a glare. Jace swallowed, lowering his head as you walked away. You entered the gathering room. Your uncle Daemon quirking his eyebrow up at your late arrival. You picked up the wine, going to the table in the middle. Daemon moved a bit aside as you leaned over to pour wine in his cup. – “You were late.” – he whispered to you. – “Apologies uncle.” – you whispered back, noticing your mother look your way from across the table.

He took one observing eye upon you. Taking you by the wrist the moment you wanted to pull away, startling you. – “Are you alright Y/n?” – he asked lowly. You nodded ignoring your own sick body. – “I am fine Uncle.” – you spoke softly, moving back. You went to pour the next lord’s cup and so on. Moving to the background, you kept the wine container in your hand. Mind blanking out. Vision becoming unclear as your heartbeat went up.

Sweat staining your body in all sorts of places. No matter how strong you tried to be, it was getting too much. Having ignored your own body by continuing with your daily duties. The voice of your mother speaking faded out as your knees went weak. The wine splashed onto the stone floor, the ceramic breaking. Everyone jumped up, startled by the sound. – “Y/n!” – Rhaenyra called out, picking up her dress to run over to you.

Her daughter who had fainted. Daemon was by your side soon enough. – “She’s burning up.” – Rhaenyra stated having touched your forehead. – “Let me.” – Daemon spoke wanting to pick you up. Rhaenyra shook her head, putting a stop to him. – “No!” – she moved her arms around you, picking you up. – “I’ll take care of my daughter.” – it took her more strength to carry you, as you weren’t a little girl anymore. Daemon wanted to escort her, but Rhaenyra wouldn’t want it.

She carried you back to your quarters, placing you on the bed. Sitting with you on the bed, she took a deep breath. – “Why didn’t you tell me you were ill daughter of mine.” – she whispered, wrenching a cloth in the basin of water. Dapping it gently onto your forehead to cool you down.

“Your health is more important than your duties.” – she leaned forwards to give you a kiss on your head. – “iksan vaoreznuni muña.” I’m sorry mother. Rhaenyra smiled letting her hand go down your cheek. – “daor jorrāelagon naejot sagon vaoreznuni ñuha jorrāelagon” No need to be sorry my love.

She answered in High Valeryian. Wetting your hands with the cloth, she smiled. – “I am here to take care of you Y/n.” – Rhaenyra and you hugged briefly. She staid by your side, taking care of you. Your brothers weren’t allowed in as a part of you was glad. Otherwise they would only scold at you for lying about being unwell.

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Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!  

[certifiedskywalker]

Anything More - Rhaenyra Targaryen

On Dragonstone, you ask something of Rhaenyra in the hopes of assuaging your fears; but the Princess fears you ask for something she cannot give.

“You should be in bed.”

Her voice came on a soft sea breeze, though it carried with it a coarseness that whispered of a freshly broken sleep, like a tide breaching a salty, shattered shore. When you turned from the stone arches of the open balcony to face her, Rhaenyra looked of the sea too. Her long, white-blonde hair tumbled over her bare, pale shoulders and melted into the softness of the sheets that gathered about her covered form in satin-like waves. Even from where you stood, paces between you and her, Rhaenyra’s eyes shone like sea glass and tumbled stones.

She spoke again, like a siren from the sun-kissed Summer Isles. “Come back to bed, my love.”

“Is that an order from the Princess of Dragonstone?”

“Perhaps,” Rhaenyra murmured, a soft smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.

“Who am I to refuse, then?” You asked, stepping from the mouth of the balcony and into the main chamber, shedding your worried thoughts along with your night robe.

Quickly, you found that, even if you wanted to, you couldn’t refuse, not when Rhaenyra looked like that. Her expression livened as you approached, light eyes alight and pink blooming across her cheeks. Eagerly, she kicked the covers open with her bare legs, pale skin shining in the breaking dawn’s light. At the sight, your mind flashed to last night, how Rhaenyra’s legs brushed along yours, tangling and untangling. 

Just as it did then, the dragon carved into the stone wall watched you fall into bed beside the Princess. Rhaenyra welcomed you with her outstretched arms and flushed flesh.

“If I had my way,” she began once you settled on top of her, face resting in the crook of her neck, “we would never leave this bed.”

You felt the words rumbling up her chest, her throat, and watched them fall so easily from her lips. It could be just that easy too, though that worried you so, how easy Rhaenyra could bend her future rule, get lost in it. “You could, you know.”

“Hmm?”

“Have it your way,” you clarified, raising a careful hand to trace the point of her chin. Rhaenyra turned he head to look at you then, her smile wider than before, sweeter even.

“When I am Queen, I imagine my duties will drive me from bed often. You’ll have to keep it warm in my absence. I do hope you find that a befitting station.”

“Ah, yes,” you sighed, fond hand falling from Rhaenyra’s face. “Royal Bed-Warmer.”

“‘Tis the most important role in the Small Council,” she teased, moving out from under you to lean over you. Her light eyes drank in your features and you watched her smile shrink into a frown. “What is it?”

“I-” You began to speak but a sudden ache swelled up in your chest, your throat, and numbed your lips to words. Rhaenyra’s brows furrowed in concern and a wandering hand brushed along your hairline. She leaned down and pressed searingly soft kisses in the spots traced by her fingertips. It was as if the Princess were trying to coax the words out of you.

“My love, tell me. Please.”

Stinging behind your eyes forced the matter and your head away from Rhaenyra’s lips. When she pulled away, you found the wherewithal to speak in the space between you.

“You will be Queen.”

“I will,” Rhaenyra murmured, “and yet you sound hateful of the notion. What would you rather I do? Shall I renounce myself? Bid my father to disinherit me, retract my claim?”

At her barrage of questions, you moved to look at the Princess once more. Rhaenyra was sat up, bare back turned to you and hands holding back her long, white hair as if the strands were doubt itself made material. She would not have it cloud her vision. Nor would she have what she assumed your worries were keep her from the Throne.

“I will not,” she said, her voice colder than you had ever heard it before. “I cannot.”

You shook your head and moved to sit up, tears slipping out of your eyes as you did. “No, I would never- I am not asking that of you. Rhaenyra-”

“Then what?” As she asked, the Princess craned her neck, letting her gaze fall on you. Fierceness glinted in her eyes and, never having been the target of her blaze, it sent a chill down your spine. 

Yet, she looked like that, like the powerful woman you loved. So, you reached for her anyway.

“I am scared you’ll forget me,” you blurted, your hands resting on her back; her skin was hot to the touch with all the fire in her blood. “It is selfish, I am selfish, but I want- I ask that you remember me in your bed while you are Queen. Whether you remember me now or however I am then. I…I am sorry.”

“No,” Rhaenyra murmured, her tone turning tender the moment an apology fell from your lips. “I am sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed you were…my love, I could never forget you. How could I when you ask for so little from me? You give, you sweet creature, come here.”

Rhaenyra took your extended hand and pulled you to her. Her lips met yours in a fervor, all warm and wandering as you tangled together once more in the morning Sun. Neither of you could ask for anything more.

[werelosingdaylight]

Now, hear me out… Rhaenyra x Twin Sister!Reader👀 What are your thoughts?

[diamantar]

LLAMA SECRETA

→ Rhaenyra Targaryen + Daemon Targaryen x fem!OC [Haella Targaryen] (ft. Aegon Targaryen)

✦ Sinopsis: La posibilidad de ser feliz finalmente aparece luego de insufribles años de matrimonio con Aegon, pero, ¿superará el miedo a las consecuencias?

✦ Advertencias: Incesto / Poliamor / Diferencia de edad / Matrimonio arreglado / Engaño / Violencia / Angst / Confort.

✦ Pedido: Si, de Wattpad.

—¡Haella! ¿Dónde está Aegon?

Frenó ante la voz de su madre y giró, rápidamente notando el manojo de nervios y ansiedad que era.

—Durmiendo. Intenté despertarlo, pero me echó vociferando maldiciones —suspiró profundo—. La resaca es intensa y aún no he visto a los niños, iba a ordenar que alguien se ocupara de él.

Alicent mordió el interior de la mejilla izquierda y negó, la actitud del Targaryen siendo extremadamente decepcionante y común.

—Yo lo hago, tu sigue y fijate que todos estén listos.

—Entendido.

Separándose, la joven colocó una mano sobre el estómago y cerró los ojos aplicando distintos ejercicios de respiración. En breve la herencia de Lucerys Velaryon sobre Marcaderiva sería cuestionada y todos quienes quisieran reclamar el trono estarían presentes, incluyendo los partidarios y representantes de cada opción. Aquello definitivamente incluía a Rhaenyra y Daemon, los cuales escuchó que llegaron al amanecer.

El simple hecho de saber que las personas que realmente amaba, con quienes hubiera deseado compartir su vida, ocupaban la Fortaleza Roja la hacía temblar. Eternos, tortuosos y angustiosos años pasaron desde que los vio, tanta vigilancia y embarazos impidiendo que pudiera escapar a Rocadragón a al menos pasar una noche con ellos. Cartas y regalos fue el único intercambio que lograron, aunque el mantenerse lejos le provocaba inmenso temor. Ser madre y la progresión de edad marcaron grandes cambios físicos, además que al no estar junto a ambos era fácil que la olvidaran y dejaran de querer… ¿Seguirían anhelando por ella una vez que la vieran?

Sacudió la cabeza y evitó arrancarse la piel alrededor de los dedos, directamente ingresando a la habitación donde sus dos hijas menores descansaban. Sonrió al verlas despiertas y desayunadas, las sirvientas vistiéndolas con finas ropas mientras jugaban con muñecos.

—Buen día —saludó absolutamente amorosa inclinándose en medio para abrazarlas—. ¿Durmieron bien?

—¡Si, e incluso soñamos lo mismo! —respondieron al unísono, según Mellos siendo una característica común en gemelos y gemelas

—¿De verdad? ¿Qué fue? —preguntó genuinamente interesada, en el proceso buscando un broche de cabello a cada una.

—¡Volábamos!

—¡En la noche!

—¡Sobre dragones!

—¡Contigo!

El canturreo intercalado y organizado sorprendió a todas las presentes, Haella inclinando la cabeza por el extraño panorama que planteaban.

—¿Disfrutaron el paseo? —siguió el juego sintiendo ligera pena al ninguna de ellas poseer un dragón.

—¡Mucho! ¡Dorado y rojo! —exclamaron, y eso le hizo fruncir el ceño al no tener razón.

Inspirando y encogiendo los hombros, dio breves indicaciones a las sirvientas y partió a la recamara de su hijo mayor, el cual empezaba a salir cuando llegó.

—Buen día, ¿cómo estás? —preguntó pellizcando suave su mejilla derecha.

—Se supone que es mi jornada libre, ¿por qué tengo que despertar temprano? —refunfuño con el ceño fruncido.

—Lo siento, mi amor, como príncipe hay responsabilidades que debes atender —inclinó la cabeza reconociendo la frustración—. En compensación trataré que mañana tengas menos clases.

—¿De verdad? —inquirió dubitativo, pero el semblante ya cambiaba a uno esperanzado.

Haella le guiñó un ojo y lo abrazó por la espalda para que caminara con ella, en calma admirando uno de los jardines internos hasta que notó a Joffrey pasear junto una niñera. El corazón dio un vuelco y rápido buscó por Rhaenyra o Daemon, pero no encontró a ninguno en las cercanías.

—Vamos al salón principal, nos esperan.

Sin hablar demasiado llegaron y ambos titubearon un momento por la multitud que esperaba el inicio de la audiencia. Los llegados de Rocadragón no estaban presentes, así que con más calma avanzó hacia su abuelo y hermanos.

—¿Dónde está Aegon? —preguntó Otto mientras Helaena sonreía y saludaba al niño.

—Intenté despertarlo… —murmuró levantando la manga del vestido y enseñando rojizos rasguños—. Madre fue hacerlo ella misma.

Disgustado por la noticia, el Hightower asintió y les dejó para ir con el resto del Consejo Privado.

—Asumo que te defendiste y también lo golpeaste un poco, ¿verdad? —inquirió Aemond inclinándose a hablarle al oído.

—Como siempre —suspiró cansada, y él soltó una corta y seca risa.

—Esperemos que llegue a tiempo.

Sin decir más giró el rostro y descubrió que Vaemon Velaryon y Rhaenys Targaryen ya estaban allí. Una de las hijas de Laena se mantenía de pie junto a la rubia y por un segundo conectaron miradas, cortésmente realizando un pequeño asentimiento.

—Están aquí —dijo Helaena en alivio manteniendo ambas manos sobre los hombros de su sobrino.

Alicent y Aegon ingresaron tensos y con expresiones agrias mientras las gemelas revoloteaban igual que mariposas. Risueñas y extrovertidas, saludaron a cada persona y ganaron sonrisas ante tan encantadora actitud, el rubio siendo incapaz de sacudir la resaca e imitar un mínimo a las pequeñas.

—Esposa —saludó al llegar e inclinarse a besarle la mano.

—Esposo —respondió indiferente al saber que madre le había obligado a mostrar respecto.

Tomaron posición y Haella se encargó de mantener a las jóvenes entretenidas junto a breves ayudas de Aemond, inevitablemente tensándose cuando Alicent murmuró que Rhaenyra había llegado. Sumamente nerviosa miró a la entrada y observó como toda la familia ingresaba, la mencionada estando a la cabeza junto a Daemon. Verlos le quitó el aliento y sintió la cabeza ligera, por un momento perdiendo balance y dando un paso en falso.

—¿Qué te sucede? —preguntó Aegon con cierto enfado.

—Me marea tu peste a alcohol —respondió en mismo tono, y él chasqueó la lengua evitando pelear.

Los niños que tanta polémica traían crecieron en bellos jóvenes, especialmente Jacaerys que mantenía la espalda recta y orgullosa ante cualquier mirada desdeñosa. Por su parte, el hermano del Rey usaba el cabello por los hombros y era un estilo nuevo que hasta ese entonces jamás había atestiguado, Rhaenyra manteniéndose tan hermosa como la recordaba.

Acelerada y con el estómago estrujado, giró la cabeza y prefirió ver como su abuelo se sentaba en el Trono de Hierro. Cada presente lo miró y oyó como este anunciaba que representaría al Rey, la pobre salud de Viserys siendo ningún un secreto para quienes vivían en el castillo.

—Dorado y rojo —murmuró la menor de las niñas, y la otra asintió.

Haella hizo un pequeño sonido para que mantuvieran silencio y sorprendida aguantó el aliento cuando encontró los violáceos ojos de Rhaenyra. Detuvo cualquier movimiento y la vio caminar al centro del pasillo dispuesta a comenzar la audiencia, los irises brillando al reconocerla. Quebraron conexión cuando enfrentó al Hightower, bonitos y definidos labios separándose a decir unas pocas palabras cuando fue interrumpida.

Ante la incredulidad de cada presente, Viserys apareció dispuesto a zanjar él mismo el asunto de Marcaderiva. Encorvado y absolutamente débil avanzó con la Escolta Real mientras Alicent quedaba muda de la impresión y Aemond liberaba un suspiro frustrado. Haella, que de por sí estaba abrumada, perdió aún más sentido de la realidad cuando Daemon avanzó y ayudó a su hermano llegar al trono. Le colocó la corona que había caído y al regresar aprovechó a analizarla, en un parpadeo logrando que rubor la dominara al elevar una ceja y darle un vistazo de arriba a abajo.

Avergonzada rompió nexo y con susto notó que Aemond y su madre observaban. Tragó perdiendo capacidad de funcionar normal y prefirió fijarse en Aegon, el cual ignoraba los detalles y simplemente veía a Rhaenys tomar palabra en símbolo de su esposo.

—Mamá —llamó la mayor de las gemelas, la cual alzaba los brazos con aura suplicante.

Sintiendo pena de antemano por su cintura, Haella la tomó en brazos y la apoyó en una cadera. Con caricias suaves dejó que descansara la cabeza en el cuello y dormitara mientras la Targaryen anunciaba que sus nietas y nietos se hallaban comprometidos, fortaleciendo así el derecho de Lucerys en Marcaderiva.

Alguien maldijo por lo bajo y apreció la desganada expresión en Alicent, la cual miraba el suelo en derrota mientras Vaemond tomaba protagonismo de la situación. El enojo y la agresividad con la que hablaba tensó a más de uno, Aegon pareciendo salir del aburrimiento ante el espectáculo.

—¿Te diviertes? —preguntó por lo bajo a su esposo, el cual sonrió.

—Amanecer tal vez no fue mala idea.

Nuevamente evitó poner los ojos en blanco y con preocupación apreció el estrés en Rhaenyra, tantas emociones definitivamente siendo perjudicial para su embarazo. Rápido buscó a Daemon y este hizo lo mismo, sin palabras compartiendo pensamiento en que el hombre definitivamente era un problema.

—¡Esos niños no son verdaderos Velaryon! —exclamó a todo pulmón, el salón cayendo en profundo silencio—. Ciertamente tampoco familia mía.

Haella inspiró profundo y deseó estar en cualquier lugar en vez de allí, la asustada expresión de Lucerys incentivando el fastidio.

—Es suficiente —contestó Rhaenyra tratando de finalizar la escena.

—No veré años de tradición terminar en favor de estos… —detuvo la frase y volteó hacia la heredera al Trono de Hierro decidiendo si continuar o no.

—Dilo —animó Daemon en tono bajo y amenazante.

Alicent y Otto apenas se movieron por la expectativa, de reojo notando que Helaena era la más incomoda del grupo.

—¡Bastardos! —gritó, enseguida una fina sábana de murmullos cubriéndolos—. Bastardos engendrados por una puta —añadió marcando con fuerza cada palabra, cualquier resentimiento escapando de él en ese momento.

Todos los cabellos de Haella se erizaron y detestó que sus hijos atestiguaran tal falta de respeto, entonces Viserys poniéndose de pie y desenfundando la daga que cargaba.

—Tendré tu lengua por eso —anunció entre respiraciones laboriosas.

Una sensación electrizante los recorrió y rápidamente abrazó más a la niña en brazos, entonces mirando a Daemon y notando que tomaba el mango de Hermana Oscura.

—¡Cierren los ojos! —ordenó desesperada usando el brazo libre para hacer que voltearan.

Apenas logró que se enfoquen en ella cuando la espada cortó la cabeza de Vaemond a la mitad, jadeos resonando mientras alrededor todos saltaban en sorpresa. Alicent tomó a su nieto y se aseguró de que no viera, la menor de las gemelas gritando y haciendo que Otto se ocupara de ella.

—Puede quedarse con la lengua —anunció el Targaryen viendo los restos y el reguero de sangre.

Haella retrocedió y llamó a las niñeras para que le ayudaran a llevarse a los niños, explícitamente indicando que evitaran el cadáver. Pasaron por detrás del publico e intentó consolar a los jóvenes, sin frenar llevándolos a su habitación y usando todo el tiempo necesario para estabilizarlos.

Alicent llegó a la hora y anunció que se realizaría una gran cena familiar según la orden de Viserys, con cariño otorgando caricias a los pequeños mientras le echaba miradas extrañas.

—¿Qué sucede? —preguntó al no lograr descifrar lo que pensaba.

—Durante la audiencia Daemon y Rhaenyra no dejaban de mirarte.

—¿En serio? —frunció el ceño fingiendo desentender—. Ciertamente conectamos un par de veces, pero no noté que se fijaran demasiado.

—De joven solías llevarte bien con ellos —comentó mientras juntaba las manos al frente.

—Sucedió hace mucho, prácticamente son desconocidos —mantuvo la calma incluso si el corazón empezaba a agitarse.

—Evita relacionarte, no traen más que peligro y deshonra.

—Por supuesto —asintió firme y solemne.

La Hightower se conformó e invitó a los niños ir a sus propias habitaciones para almorzar, bañarse y dormir hasta la hora de la reunión.

—Nos vemos luego, también descansa.

—Cuídate, madre.

Quedando a solas al llevarse a todos del cuarto, suspiró pesado y se recostó procesando las emociones del día. Ver a quienes amaba después de tanto tiempo la llenaba de un doloroso anhelo, ya que sabía que no podría estar con ellos y de por vida viviría atada a Aegon.

—Señorita, ¿desea comer?

Brincó del susto y respondió afirmativo a la sirvienta al otro lado de la puerta, la cual ingresó con una bandeja.

—Prepara la tina, cuando termine me asearé.

—Excelente ���asintió mientras arreglaba el escritorio y llenaba la copa de vino.

Con poco apuro se alimentó mientras las femeninas arreglaban la ropa que vestiría, al tragar añadiendo que seleccionaran un camisón al también aprovechar a dormir antes de la gran cena.

Apenas finalizó ingresó al agua y dejó que su dama de mayor confianza le lavara el cabello, ausente dejando los minutos pasar hasta que tembló por el frío. Salió y aplicó las fragancias que más disfrutaba, con libro en mano sentándose junto al fuego e intentando que los mechones se secaran antes de acostarse.

La relajación del baño fue mayor al esperado y el quiebre de una madera ante las llamas la despertó, torpe levantándose y yendo a refugiarse en las sábanas. La baja temperatura de la telas le erizó la piel hasta que una vez más se deslizó en la inconsciencia, durante horas logrando ignorar el mundo cuando pequeños roces la obligaron a regresar. Frunció el ceño y movió el rostro al percibir toques cerca de los labios, entonces apreciando una mano que se perdía en el cabello y la mimaba.

—¿Aegon? —preguntó sumamente confundida por la delicadeza y el cariño, aunque el aroma a flores fue una clara señal de que no se trataba del mencionado.

Un pequeño sonido a mofa la alertó y entreabrió los parpados, así notando que el sillón junto la chimenea estaba volteado y alguien lo ocupaba.

—Esperamos no decepcionarte.

Inmediatamente se incorporó y al frotar los ojos encontró a Daemon viéndola con una mueca traviesa y las piernas cruzadas, mientras que Rhaenyra sonreía sentada al borde de la cama.

—¿Qué…? —preguntó torpe por el sueño.

—Desapareciste y no recibimos señales de que quisieras vernos, así que te buscamos.

—Los niños quedaron asustados y luego recibí advertencias… No quería levantar sospechas.

—¿Cuál de los Hightower? —preguntó el hombre inclinando la cabeza.

—Mamá.

—¿Con qué palabras nos halagó? —indagó enarcando una ceja.

Suspirando y rodando el cuello, permitió que Rhaenyra la tomara de la mano y le acariciara con el pulgar.

—Recordó que nos llevábamos bien y aconsejó que mantuviera distancia, ya que al perecer traen peligro y deshonra —confesó, y al decirlo la incomodidad le calentó las orejas.

—Si se preocupara tanto por ti no te hubiera casado con Aegon —retrucó venenoso tensando la mandíbula.

—Al menos estando con él pudo seguir viviendo aquí y tener la ocasional oportunidad de verlos.

—¿Has deseado por nosotros? —preguntó la femenina en tono gentil.

Haella encogió los hombros y miró la pared sin saber que decir, especialmente al desconocer donde paraba la relación de los tres.

—Tal vez.

—Eres imprecisa —presionó Daemon apoyándose en uno de los brazos del sillón.

—Las circunstancias han cambiado desde la última vez que estuvimos juntos.

—Tus cartas enseñaban cariño y añoranza, ¿acaso has cambiado? —indagó Rhaenyra inclinando la cabeza y viéndola atenta—. ¿Tienes a alguien más?

—¿Disculpa? —preguntó sorprendida elevando ambas cejas y dejando los labios entreabiertos.

—Por experiencia sé lo que es estar en un matrimonio incompatible y como la calidez de otros brazos reconfortan cuando estás lejos de quien quieres.

Por unos momentos olvidó cómo hablar y dejó los labios entreabiertos, pero finalizó por negar con la cabeza.

—Mi hermano ciertamente no es el esposo que hubiera deseado, pero tampoco busqué un amante, tengo hijos a los que no quiero perjudicar con mis acciones.

—Aegon, en cambio, puede hacer lo que quiera —acotó Daemon.

—Por mi que continúe, lo que sea para evitar compartir cama con él —bufó alterando de actitud y luciendo más vívida que antes.

—¿Te trata bien? —preguntó Rhaenyra sentándose mejor ante el repentino cambio.

—Apenas nos vemos y cuando interactuamos terminamos peleando, ¿quién pensó que casarme con mi gemelo sería buena idea? —gruñó echándole una mirada al hombre y viendo que sonreía.

—Me sorprende que pudieran engendrar.

—Un cometido que no hubiéramos podido lograr sin alcohol, aunque Aegon vive ebrio —rodó los ojos al tiempo que inspiraba profundo—. Agradezco que esas ocasiones no sean más que recuerdos vagos bajo el mareo de la bebida.

—¿No han dormido juntos desde las gemelas? —indagó el mayor afilando la mirada, cada detalle que pudiera obtener siendo oro.

—El día que nacieron hubo un momento donde pactamos que nuestras obligaciones como pareja finalizaron. Tres hijos son suficientes.

—Por lo que, ¿en estos últimos dos años solo has encontrado consuelo en ti misma?

—¿Viniste a ser un pervertido? —regañó con mejillas sonrosadas.

—Ciertamente no —intervino Rhaenyra mirando a su esposo en regaño.

—¿Entonces cuál es la intención?

—Salvarte —respondió la Targaryen con una postura que captó la atención de ambos—. Consideramos que lo sabes, pero eres importante para nosotros y nos encantaría que viviéramos juntos.

Haella elevó ambas cejas y retrocedió unos centímetros, en blanco viéndola sin ser capaz de pensar.

—¿Cómo? —frunció el ceño como si hubiera expresado algo incoherente.

—Imaginar tu estadía aquí, compartiendo tu vida con alguien como Aegon… Deseamos estar contigo, las cartas no son suficiente.

—Nunca lo fueron —añadió Daemon ajustado posición y jugando con un anillo—. Un pedazo de pergamino jamás podría reemplazar tu presencia.

Nerviosa y halagada amagó a sonreír, pero la implicación de tales deseos empezaba a oprimirle el pecho.

—Suponía que el interés en mí se borraría con el pasar de los años. Siendo sinceros, ¿no soy más que un juguete que quitarle a los Hightower?

El miedo a ser un capricho resistía incluso cuando ambos vivían en la Fortaleza Roja, donde recién encontraba el amor e idealizaba una vida de fantasía. Conocía el desagrado entre Otto y Daemon al igual que la antigua relación entre Rhaenyra y su madre, por lo que no podía evitar formular negativas teorías.

—Por supuesto que no —contestó la mujer, en el ceño fruncido notándose la ofensa de que pensara así.

—Espero que entiendan mi inseguridad —aclaró rápido—. Ustedes han podido estar juntos y crear una familia mientras yo formaba otra vida que solo conocían a través de cartas. No es lo mismo.

—Ciertamente —coincidió Daemon al tiempo se ponía de pie—. Aunque debes recordar que nosotros nos unimos luego de años distanciados, apenas sabíamos del otro y aún así quemábamos en añoranza, ¿por qué sería distinto contigo?

Un extraño calor surgió en el pecho de Haella y bajó la mirada, inconscientemente mordiendo el labio inferior ante la realización de que realmente era apreciada por las personas que amaba. Rhaenyra acunó una de sus mejillas y sonrió reconfortante, enseguida inclinándose a besarla de manera suave y tentativa. La joven sintió la consideración y correspondió en señal de que el acto era de agrado, logrando que ella sonriera y la acariciara con el pulgar en el proceso de separarse.

—¿Puedo asumir que nuestros sentimientos son los mismos? —preguntó complacida.

—Absolutamente —asintió pequeño con la piel erizada en nervios y excitación.

La cama se hundió y Haella miró al hombre, la intención en su mirada siendo clara y evitando palabras cuando era su turno de poseerla. El momento fue absolutamente diferente y liberó un pequeño jadeo al sentir que una mano iba a sostenerla entre el cuello y el mentón, la intensidad y dominación surgiendo desde el inicio incluso si no era especialmente agresivo.

—Espera… —murmuró apenada y conmovida en sensaciones poco usuales.

—¿Por qué? —preguntó fingiendo desentender mientras con los labios recorría zonas de piel cercanas y sensibles.

Rhaenyra sonrió disfrutando de lo fácil que se avergonzaba y bajó las pupilas a la única tela que la cubría, en eso mirando rápido la puerta cuando golpearon por entrar.

—¿Ha despertado, señorita?

El tono de la sirvienta congeló a la joven y rápido empalideció ante el peligro de ser descubierta, desesperada mirándolos y apreciando como ambos se elevaban.

—Nos vemos en la cena —murmuró la femenina mientras Daemon asentía y la tomaba de la cintura.

Se acercaron a uno de los muros en el proceso que Haella buscaba un abrigo, asombrada documentando como desaparecían a través de un pasaje secreto.

—Puedes entrar —anunció fuerte, entonces una mujer de mediana edad ingresando.

—Es hora de comenzar con los arreglos.

La Targaryen asintió e indicó que comenzaría lavándose el rostro, después de eso entregándose a que la embelleciera. El vestido verde oscuro abrazó su cuerpo y brilló en combinación con el collar y los aretes de diamante, luego las experimentadas manos dirigiéndose a trenzar el cabello de manera que su cuello y hombros quedaran despejados.

—¿Terminado? —preguntó cuando revisaba los últimos detalles.

—Si, Princesa —asintió dejando que se viera.

La imagen en el espejo realmente no importaba cuando era un panorama conocido luego de tantas veces que debió lucir femenina y formal, por lo que eligió dejarlo e ir por sus hijos. Conociendo que las gemelas pasarían la velada en la guardería, directamente fue por el mayor y sonrió al verlo con un traje nuevo.

—Te ves esplendido en el obsequio de tu abuelo —sonrió encantada tocando la felpa negra del saco.

—Gracias —respondió seco por la timidez, aunque en silencio apreciaba como las prendas le favorecían.

En breve salieron y fueron al salón, donde prácticamente toda la familia se encontraba hablando. Ambos miraron y dudaron a que grupo acercarse, y la idea de ir con Aemond quedó descartada ante la expresión seria y agría que cargaba.

—Buenas noches, madre —saludó cuando Alicent cortó distancia.

Ella sonrió estresada y miró al joven halagando la manera en que lucía, entonces dos sombras aproximándose y tensándolas al saber que era la pareja Targaryen que más las sacudía. Rhaenyra rompió hielo con amable formalidad y la Reina le imitó, Daemon manteniendo su pequeña sonrisa usual hasta que se fijó en el joven.

—En la tarde te he visto entrenar con espada —comentó de manera desinteresada inclinando la cabeza, casi intentando lucir amigable.

—Ah, lamento no haber notado su presencia —respondió ligeramente intimidado tratando de mantener la cortesía.

—Parecías realmente adecuado, ¿te agrada?

—Disfruto de las actividades físicas.

—Posees habilidad, me gustaría practicar contigo en la siguiente oportunidad.

—S-Sería un honor —asintió nervioso poniendo la espalda recta.

Daemon miró a Haella y ella sonrió educada intentando no levantar sospechas.

—¿Imagino que las niñas estarán en su propio espacio al igual que Joffrey? —inquirió Rhaenyra.

—Correcto, aún son muy jóvenes para pasar una cena entera sin levantarse, llorar o corretear.

—Deberíamos hacer que pasen tiempo juntos, seguro disfrutarán la compañía del otro —opinó Daemon mirando a su esposa por aprobación, la cual sabía que tendría—. Estrechar la familia, como Viserys desea.

Alicent carraspeó y asintió indicando que en la próxima visita se ocuparían de aquello, acto seguido llamando a Aemond y haciendo que ocuparan la mesa. Cerca de su hermano, ignoró la mirada de éste y sonrió cuando Helaena llegó, aunque la calma duró poco cuando Aegon apareció.

—Esposa —suspiró, y con pesadez se sentó al lado.

—Esposo —contestó analizando si ya estaba ebrio o no—. Reconoce la presencia de tu hijo —regañó.

El Targaryen elevó las cejas desprevenido y miró al joven forzando una mueca extraña, sin palabra estirando un brazo y dándole unas palmadas en la mejilla. Alicent ganó alivio al ver que se encargaban de mantener las apariencias, fugaz fijándose en los invitados antes de que la Guardia Real abriera las puertas. Sobre un trono movible, los hombres más fuertes cargaban el dañado cuerpo de Viserys entre elegantes ropas, joyería y una máscara que ocultaba mitad de su putrefacto rostro.

—Tomen asiento y disfruten —anunció una vez que lo acomodaron en la cabecera.

Cada uno hizo caso y, en un acuerdo silencioso, evitaron las rivalidades manteniendo buen carácter. De todas maneras, Aemond, parecía poseer dificultades y frío escaneaba los jóvenes de Rhaenyra, en especial a quien fue responsable de herirlo de por vida.

Haella, consciente de la sed de venganza, vigiló hasta que Lucerys soltó una baja risa al los sirvientes poner un gran cerdo cocido cerca de su hermano. Apretó los labios ante el recuerdo de la cruel broma que le jugaron de niño y apreció la furia surgir desde lo profundo del Targaryen. Suspiró en derrota conociendo que de alguna manera cobraría aquella burla y nerviosa recurrió al vino, con copa en labios mirando a Daemon y casi atragantándose cuando él le guiñó un ojo. Rápido analizó alrededor y disimulada carraspeó por el líquido que se desvió hacia el conducto pulmonar, entonces Viserys tomando palabra y dando un prolongado discurso donde exponía la felicidad de tenerlos reunidos. El inquebrantable deseo de ser una gran familia unida persistía y la mayoría de los presentes bien sabía que aquello no progresaría, aunque por un momento la fantasía pareció convertirse en realidad cuando Rhaenyra y Alicent intercambiaron cándidas palabras.

Los jóvenes se miraron desconcertados y Haella buscó descifrar las emociones de su abuelo, aunque, para gran sorpresa, este ya le veía e hizo un gesto a que interviniera a romper el momento de reconciliación. Con la mente nublada al no querer la atención de la mesa sobre ella, inquieta agarró la copa y arrastró la silla hasta apoyarse en ambos pies.

—Me gustaría decir algunas palabras —anunció en tono acelerado, con ligero temblor aguantando la necesidad de colocar una mano sobre el pecho—. Quiero brindar por esta cena compartida entre seres queridos, especialmente a mis adorados padres —realizó una pequeña pausa de respecto, a lo que ambos asintieron complacidos—. Festejo este gran reencuentro familiar y dedico este vino a desearles prosperidad… Especialmente a mi esposo e hijos, para que siempre estemos sanos —miró a Aegon, el cual estaba absolutamente desconcertado.

Avergonzada regresó a la silla y evitó prestar atención al resto, ansiosa bebiendo hasta terminar la jarra más cercana.

—Nunca ingieres tanto alcohol, ¿qué sucede? —preguntó su gemelo analizándola como pocas veces.

—Hoy poseo el gusto, nada más —encogió los hombros como si no fuera importante.

El rubio guardó silencio y pensó por largos segundos, finalmente inclinándose a hablarle al oído.

—Las únicas veces donde te embriagaste fue cuando compartimos aposentos, ¿ver tantos niños pudo haber despertado un nuevo deseo de ser madre? —susurró al tiempo que una mano iba sostenerla del muslo.

Haella no pudo evitar la expresión de espanto y rápido volteó, sus rostros quedando a pocos centímetros.

—Pensé que teníamos un acuerdo.

—Si lo deseas puedo hacer el esfuerzo —aseguró, por un segundo viéndole los labios.

La implicación la dejó sin palabras, especialmente porque fielmente creía que compartían el disgusto romántico y sexual por el otro.

—Estamos en publico —regañó regresando a mirar su plato con las mejillas ligeramente coloradas.

—¿Entonces debo proponer un nuevo heredero cuando nos hallemos a solas? —inspiró apretando la tierna carne bajo el vestido.

Sin dudar agarró la mano y con disimulo la quitó echándole una rápida mirada a Alicent, la cual ya estaba viéndolos con aire severo por el comportamiento del masculino.

—Tres hijos están bien, ni pienses en visitar mi habitación.

—Sería un desperdicio cuando estás a unas copas de no recordar la noche, sabes que madre estaría complacida con otro nacimiento.

Haella realizó un sonido seco y lo pellizcó por debajo de la mesa, a lo que Aegon saltó gracias al dolor y por el momento desistió. Enseguida miró a Rhaenyra y ella brevemente enarcó una ceja ante la escena, apenada evitándola y preguntándose cuándo el evento terminaría. Aguantó y se enfocó en su hijo hasta que Viserys comenzó a sentirse mal, en silencio viendo como los guardias lo retiraban y sintiéndose aliviada de que todo estuviera llegando a fin.

—También deseo brindar —soltó Aemond poniéndose en pie ahora que el Rey no estaba.

—Hermano —suspiró por lo bajo arrugando el ceño en preocupación, aunque Aegon sonrió y agarró el vino a sabiendas de que el espectáculo estaba por comenzar.

Contuvo el aliento en cada palabra que el Targaryen soltó hasta que los cabellos se le erizaron cuando sutilmente llamó “bastardos” a los hijos de Rhaenyra. El primero en reaccionar fue Jacaerys y tal reacción solo logró que Aemond lo provocara más, por lo que en menos de un parpadeo una batalla comenzó.

—¡Hijo, atrás! —exclamó Haella agarrando al joven de los hombros y llevándolo contra una pared alejada—. ¡Aegon! —llamó indignada cuando este fue contra Lucerys al ver iba a entrometerse en la pelea.

Helaena, desorientada y asustada, fue con ella y ayudó a proteger al joven atestiguando como Rhaella retenía a su gemela de ir a defender a Jacaerys. La Reina no tardó en levantarse y regañarle mientras los guardias presentes iban a retener a los Velaryon, aunque lograron zafarse y amagaron a arremeter hasta que Daemon intervino. El salón cayó en silencio y el mayor, relajado y con aire de superioridad, lo enfrentó mostrando una ligera mueca de animo a que siguiera con esa actitud ante él.

—Suficiente, todos fuera —ordenó Rhaenyra a los jóvenes, quienes inspiraron profundo e hicieron caso tratando de calmarse.

Aemond perdió la sonrisa y sostuvo la mirada analizando sus posibilidades, la confianza lentamente descendiendo y prefiriendo pasar de él e irse.

—¿Están bien? —preguntó Alicent analizando a su nieto y dos hijas, el trío asintiendo—. Mejor vayan a los aposentos y traten de… superar este día.

Haella mordió el interior de la mejilla y contuvo el enojo al ver a Aegon, el cual pareció sentir la furia y prefirió retirarse luego de echarle un vistazo. En segundos lo siguió en compañía de Helaena y juntas fueron a dejar al joven en su habitación, donde un sirviente lo ayudaría con las ropas y prepararía el lugar para que tuviera un buen sueño.

—Descansa, hermana —habló la mayor dándole un pequeño abrazo.

—Nos vemos mañana —despidió, con ligera prisa desapareciendo hacia el sector donde vivía.

Inspiró profundo y los eventos del día pasaron como una novela que prefería olvidar, pero entonces recordó el momento compartido con Daemon y Rhaenyra. Inconscientemente puso una mano en el estómago por las repentinas cosquillas y negó por como tenerlos en mente cambiaba su humor en un segundo.

Al llegar cerró la puerta y miró la cama donde horas atrás compartió besos con quienes amaba, de pronto la propuesta de vivir con ellos golpeándola como un coletazo de dragón. Deseaba, sinceramente deseaba una vida de ensueño y romance, pero el miedo a las repercusiones la frenaban de siquiera considerar abandonar el castillo.

En la mañana fue difícil verlos partir y el vacío que la llenó le hizo querer nunca haberlos cruzado, porque ahora los añoraba muchísimo más. Tener que seguir la rutina fue difícil y solo pudo mantener buena cara ante sus hijos, pero interactuar con Aegon, Aemond, Alicent u Otto fue más difícil que antes. Los muros se sentían huecos y congelados hasta que notó que era un reflejo de ella y la gente que la rodeaba, el fuego no existía en aquel lugar y la pequeña llama que poseía se extinguía en cada día que pasaba.

—Madre —llamó el mayor de los niños entrando con cuidado a la habitación—. Mamá… ¿Estás bien? —insistió al ella seguir mirando por la ventana de manera ausente.

—Hijo —susurró saliendo del trance y acercándose, inmediatamente yendo a acariciarle el cabello y la mejilla.

—¿Te sientes mal? Apenas has salido a pasar tiempo con nosotros —frunció el ceño intentando que el labio inferior no temblara.

—Lo siento, mi amor —disculpó rápido entendiendo que ya no era capaz de esconder el sufrimiento—. He estado sintiéndome un poco rara, nada más.

—¿Has visto a los sanadores? —preguntó aún preocupado.

—No es algo que ellos puedan solucionar, pero haré lo mejor para volver a la normalidad —prometió, porque lo que menos quería era generarle ansiedad a los pequeños.

—¿Qué es lo que tienes?

Torciendo la boca y pensando como abordar el tema, lo invitó a sentarse en la punta de la cama con ella.

—La vida aquí… El castillo… No me hace muy feliz —confesó simple sin ahondar en los detalles—. Pienso que podríamos vivir mejor en Rocadragón, amaría que tú y tus hermanas tuvieran gente de su edad para jugar, aprender e interactuar.

—Pero… ¿Papá, la abuela y el resto? —inclinó la cabeza en confusión.

—Seríamos solo nosotros cuatro —sonrió con pena apretando los labios con fuerza—. Ellos no tienen intenciones de estar contentos o sanar; las reglas, el rencor y lo que los demás piensan es más importante que el bienestar general.

Él bajó la mirada al regazo y luego a otras partes de la habitación, claramente analizando y llegando a dudas y conclusiones.

—¿Qué sucede si no voy? ¿Te irás igual? —inquirió amagando a conectar miradas, pero no fue capaz por los nervios.

—Jamás te dejaría, no deseo que sufras o te falte a quien recurrir cuando las obligaciones sean demasiado para ti. Eres mi hijo, lo que más amo, no podría abandonarte.

Increíblemente aliviado, el joven la abrazó y permanecieron en silencio hasta que llamaron a la puerta. Ambos miraron y se pusieron de pie cuando oyeron la voz de Ser Criston, por lo que rápido permitió que entrara después de la Reina. La tensión en ambos fue lo primero que notó, especialmente la expresión estresada, ansiosa y nerviosa de la mujer mientras frenaba y suspiraba pesado.

—Con el mayor pesar vengo a informar que Viserys ha fallecido.

—¿Qué? —preguntó Haella, inmediatamente sintiendo una roca en el corazón.

—Sucedió en la madrugada, los sanadores no han podido hacer nada al respecto.

Los ojos picaron y soportó la angustia para consolar al menor, el cual de por sí estaba triste y aturdido por la conversación anterior.

—¿Cuándo será el entierro? —habló en tono contenido.

—Pronto lo anunciaremos, primero debemos organizar la ascensión de Aegon como Rey.

—¿Cómo? —frunció el ceño y apreció como los oídos empezaban a zumbar por la catarata de noticias.

—Era el deseo de tu padre, lo confesó hace pocos amaneceres —afirmó antes de acercarse y tomarlos de un hombro—. Lamento la pérdida, me encargaré de que todo esté bien.

—¿Has avisado a Rhaenyra y Daemon?

Esos nombres la tensaron y apretó los labios, un destello de culpa brillando en el marrón de los irises.

—Enviaré una carta una vez que todo esté asentado.

La declaración encendió la preocupación en Haella y evitó pronunciar palabra, así quedando nuevamente a solas con el niño.

—El Reino está por cambiar y será inestable… Ambos deben saber que tu abuelo ha fallecido —empezó a decir apretándolo más contra ella—. Hijo mío, ¿me acompañarás a Rocadragón?

—Si, mamá —confirmó al tiempo que escondía el rostro en su vestido, lágrimas mojando la tela.

—Gracias.

Desde esa mañana el plan de mudanza comenzó y ambos mantuvieron las apariencias, en secreto armando el viaje y lo poco que podían llevar considerando que volarían. Fue un proceso rápido considerando que la muerte de Viserys no se podía ocultar demasiado tiempo, así que dos dos días después, en plena noche, tomó a los niños.

—¿Qué haces? —preguntó el mayor mientras sostenía a una de las gemelas.

—Abro un pasadizo, el castillo esta repleto de ellos —murmuró mientras empujaba a un costado y movía la pesada pared—. Mira donde pisas, ten cuidado —indicó estirando los brazos a tomar a la niña mientras la otra colgaba a su espalda en un amarre.

Bajaron escalones y cruzaron pasillos hasta casi perderse, entre laberintos hallando la salida y abandonando la Fortaleza Roja para atravesar la ciudad tapados de pie a cabeza. La actividad nocturna deslumbró a los jóvenes, aunque las acciones moralmente cuestionables y gritos les pusieron los cabello de punta.

—¿Falta mucho? —preguntó el muchacho sintiendo los pies cansados, con dificultad cargando un par de mochilas.

—Un poco más, pronto estarás volando —explicó agitada cambiando de brazo a la menor.

Con sudor e incertidumbre mantuvo el optimismo incluso si dudaba de poder ejecutar la huida, con temor saludando al guardia nocturno e indicando que trajera a la bestias. Miró alrededor intentando dilucidar cuantos testigos existían, pero parecían ser los únicos entre las tenues antorchas del amplio lugar. El rugido de su dragón le erizó los cabellos e hizo que mirara por uno de los pasillos, donde una gran cabeza anaranjada se asomó de manera lenta y adormilada.

—Enseguida traigo al pequeño, Princesa —avisó una vez que el cuidador estuvo lo suficientemente cerca.

—Prepara las cadenas de vuelo asistido, daremos un paseo en conjunto —ordenó suave estirando la mano libre a acariciar las gruesas escamas.

Asintiendo y desapareciendo de nuevo, Haella indicó al primogénito que le ayudara a subir y atar a una de las gemelas y las pertenencias en la montura. Ajustaron los seguros y revisó que la menor a su espalda estuviera bien, al terminar colocándose los guantes de piel mientras el entrenador se acercaba con un energético y joven dragón. El hombre conectó a las dos criaturas con una gruesa cadena y en Alto Valyrio los llevó fuera del edificio, en el proceso la Targaryen dándole indicaciones al menor de cómo volar al ser el primer viaje largo que experimentaría.

La brisa nocturna golpeó su rostro e hizo que inspirara profundo, al cerrar los ojos obteniendo un momento de paz hasta que tomaron posición. Miró al guardia y él le devolvió el vistazo entre dudas, aunque realizó un gesto de cortesía y ocultó las sospechas en una cabeza gacha.

—Estoy listo —avisó el niño apretando las riendas y enderezando la espalda.

Haella observó el cielo y finalmente dio señal de vuelo, el dragón dando largos pasos antes de ganar altura. Mordió el interior de una mejilla y evitó girar a ver lo que abandonaba, lagrimas perdiéndose mientras las luces en Desembarco del Rey se volvían pequeñas. Las prendas se humedecieron al ingresar al techo de nubes y contuvieron el aliento hasta atravesar la sofocante oscuridad, enormes y brillantes estrellas recibiéndolos una vez libres. Estiraron el cuello y admiraron los astros ante la significativa diferencia, por un momento tentados a estirar las manos y comprobar si eran capaces de tocar tal belleza.

—Bonito, ¿verdad? —preguntó a las gemelas también mirar.

Respondieron positivamente y el viaje continuó en absoluta paz, el tumulto sucediendo en secreto dentro del corazón de la Targaryen ante el peligroso e incierto futuro que sus acciones generarían.

Con nariz, mejillas y dedos congelados, todos apreciaron los primeros rayos del sol y cerraron los ojos disfrutando del suave calor. La niebla en el horizonte de a poco se hizo visible y anunció la proximidad al destino, finalmente apreciando el castillo de Rocadragón.

—¿¡Dónde aterrizamos!? —preguntó el niño con nervios ante el nuevo desafío.

—Volemos alrededor un par de veces hasta que los guardias nos vean y den aviso de llegada, luego nos guiaré a un área abierta para descender con comodidad.

Haella los llevó a las torres de vigilancia y enseguida observó como dos arqueros corrían escaleras abajo. Complacida admiró la estructura y sorprendida jadeó cuando una serpentina sombra los cubrió, de pronto un rugido a su izquierda haciendo que encontrara a Syrax planeando.

—Dorado y rojo —murmuraron las gemelas.

Inmediatamente frunció el ceño y elevo el mentón para ver a Caraxes analizarlos, en el proceso realizando particulares sonidos de bienvenida.

—¿Cómo…? —empezó a preguntar al ciertamente atinar con los colores, la frase siendo recurrente desde la primera vez que la dijeron.

Un escalofrío la recorrió y consideró que sus hijas fueran soñadoras en vez de jinetes, una cuestión que en ese momento no podía analizar a pesar de que la descolocó: ¿desde cuándo sabían que terminarían en el otro lado de la familia?

En pocas ordenes empezó a bajar y con cuidado vigiló a los inexpertos, los cuales lograron tocar tierra y parecieron aliviados de finalmente dejar el cielo. La estabilidad la mareó y cerró los ojos notando, por primera vez, el cansancio y el dolor corporal que la torturaba. Con las articulaciones endurecidas, lentamente liberó los seguros de la montura hasta que el eco de su nombre cortó la calma. Adrenalina la llenó y buscó la fuente del llamado, el largo y rubio cabello de Rhaenyra sacudiéndose en el viento mientras se acercaba.

Sonriendo y sintiendo nada más que verdadera felicidad, se puso de pie y averiguó la manera de bajar a las niñas de manera segura hasta que Daemon surgió en el panorama. Él sonrió complacido y ella perdió el aliento, enseguida estirando los brazos y entregándole a una de las niñas antes de que le ayudara a bajar.

—Finalmente elegiste —comentó una vez que la tuvo en frente.

—Si… —dudó al recordar las razones que finalmente la hicieron escapar.

—¿Qué sucedió? —tensó el ceño y analizó las pequeñas expresiones.

—Haella —nombró Rhaenyra antes de encerrarla en un abrazo, sobre el hombro viendo a la pequeña que llevaba colgada.

Cerró los ojos ante el reconfortante contacto y con fuerza contuvo las lagrimas, la emoción mezclándose en ansiosa tristeza por las noticias que entregaría.

—Lo lamento —habló ahogada escondiendo el rostro.

Rhaenyra la estrechó con más fuerza antes de mirar preocupada a su esposo, el cual se acercó intentando consolarla.

—Sea lo que sea, lo superaremos juntos —prometió Daemon acomodándole el cabello en un gesto cariñoso.

Abrumada asintió y entre lagrimas apreció la cercanía, aquellos cuerpos enseguida enseñando que ellos eran su verdadero hogar.

[halcyon-writings]

cw/notes: mentioned character death, spoilers for fire and blood if you only watched the show, slight canon divergence as well, overall kinda somber (apologies to rhaenrya as this is my first fic for her and it's angst oop)

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She wakes up with a scream, a scream so loud that it startles you awake. The guardsmen outside the doors soon are rushing into her chambers, fearing the worst for their queen.

You raise your hands from where you stand in place at her side, having been in the room already as the pair of you had shared a dinner here rather than being out, as Rhaenrya had been too drained to do so. You had unknowingly (and unfortunately) slept at the small desk nearby, already beginning to feel that in your neck. Your hands raised so that the Queensguard do not think you were an intruder. before they relax but only just.

"Apologies for startling you, gentlemen," You placate, standing in front of Rhaenyra, more to reassure her that they would not see their queen so browbeaten, so defeated.

Rhaenyra's voice sounds from behind you as well, "I will be fine, Sers, please, it was only a trick of the mind I saw in my sleep." A nightmare more like it. But you don't voice that thought.

The two knights share an unsure look, before acquiescing to her command, leaving the room as the door shuts gently behind them. While she had not seen it, you had seen their worried looks, it was a shared expression seen on the faces of many of the servants in the Red Keep that were loyal to the rightful Queen.

You hear a gasp from behind, turning around in slight alarm. There she was, not the Queen, but Rhaenyra. Her eyes filled with tears as her body shook. It did not take owning a chain of the Citadel to figure out what her dreams may have been about.

"Oh, Rhaenyra..." You say sadly, grabbing one of her hands with both of yours, your voice hushed so that the guards outside do not hear, "It was just a nightmare, you're in the Red Keep, you are safe."

"i dreamed about them again," She responds with instead, her eyes haunted.

"Would you like to tell me about this nightmare? Or should I ask for a pitcher of some arbor red to help calm you down?" You ask quietly.

She looks up, as though alarmed, with a sharp, "No!" Rhaenyra realizes that she had raised her voice, as she shakes her head, "No. No... I will be alright."

The look of disbelief on your face seems to be sensed by her, as she barely looks up from her lap. "I know that you think otherwise..." At least then you decide to look sheepish.

"Then tell me, Rhae, you can trust me," Sitting at her bedside, you look at her imploringly. After the Dance had ended, there were a grievous amount of scars left on the realm, but also left on Rhaenyra's heart. Wounds that had been left to fester as she had been forced to push them out of sight in order to focus on the realm's recovery.

"I cannot be weak-" She begins.

"Rhaenrya," You say sternly, surprising her as you interrupt, "Yes, you are the Lady of the Seven Kingdoms now, yes, you are the Queen, and yes, you are to serve and protect the realm, but who will make sure that Rhaenyra is alright?" The look you proceed to send her seems to not just build her up, but also dress her down, a rarity for the Queen, as not many were bold enough (or stupid enough) to do so.

She sighs, pulling her shawl around herself tighter, "I had told you that I had dreamed about them. My boys..." I only nod, before she continues with a hesitant pause for a moment. "I had dreamt about how they met their fates, how they must have felt, and how I could not be with them...my Jace... my Luke, even sweet Viserys," Her breath hitches, and Rhaenyra's eyes look up to yours, and all you can see is the pure agony within them, "I failed them, haven't I?"

You do not answer her, you do not know how you could even, knowing that none of the words you could ever provide be a comfort to this woman who had lost her boys, with her remaining children were not left unmarred by this war either. Instead, you allow her to hug you tightly, her cries silent as she allowed herself to grieve after all this time.

[wholoveseggs]

Mistress

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{Daemon Targaryen X Rhaenyra Targaryen x Reader} It's a stormy night on Dragonstone and you seek solace in your queen's bed, but a certain king consort joins the two of you, making the evening even more interesting...

4.6k words - Warnings: smut, incest, daemyra centric, voyeurism, ffm threesome, tribbing, fingering, oral (male & female receiving) face sitting, riding, Daemon being cheeky, Rhaenyra being a bit nervous& inexperienced in pleasing a woman, lots of kisses, tons of fluff & teensy tiny bit of somnophilia ...

{Daemon Targaryen Tag-List}

@elijahstwink @starshipcookie @absolutemarveltrash @odairtrqsh @darkened-writer @cheneyq @fallout-girl219 @nina6708 @evasmlp @sadmonke @deamonloverrrr

It was well past midnight on Dragonstone, the sound of rain tapping on the stone floor filled the quiet halls of the castle. It was dark and cold but that did not bother the two lovers as they embraced in the sheets, bodies entangled in one another.

Soft moans and heavy breaths filled the room as you straddled your queen, the sheets pooling around your waists as your lips moved against her plump ones, kissing her deeply. Your fingers danced up her arms, her shoulders, and her neck before finding their way into her beautiful silver-gold hair. Her own hands were running down your back and over the curve of your ass before giving it a light squeeze.

A quiet giggle escaped your lips as she squeezed again, and you pulled away from her slightly, pressing your forehead against hers as you both gazed into each other's eyes. You could see the lust and passion as she smiled, moving a hand from your ass and up your side before cupping your cheek and bringing you back to her for another kiss.

Rhaenyra had never felt the touch of another woman before, nor the taste of her lips. Her heart was pounding in her chest, feeling you against her as she deepened the kiss. The feeling of your bare skin against her own was magic. Your warm soft breasts pressing against hers, making her nipples harden against your chest. She could feel the wetness between her thighs, and she knew you could feel it too.

"Your grace," you murmured against her lips, your soft hands caressing the young queen's face, "you are shaking," you told her, feeling her body trembling beneath you.

"I'm just a little cold," Rhaenyra lied, she felt heat flood her cheeks at the way you smiled down at her.

"Then let me warm you," you replied, pulling her closer to you as you moved a hand down her neck and between her breasts, your fingers trailing her soft pale skin. You moved down her stomach, over her navel, and through the neatly trimmed patch of hair on her mound before reaching her soaking wet center.

You watched your queen's face closely, her eyes fluttering shut as you ran a finger along the wetness, making her let out a moan, her lips parting. You smiled at her reaction and brought your finger to her pearl, rubbing the sensitive spot gently, watching as Rhaenyras skin began to flush a beautiful pink, her breathing becoming more ragged.

"Does that feel good, your grace?" you asked her, slowly moving your finger back and forth as you lowered your head and kissed her jaw.

"Yes," she breathed, her hips bucking against your touch as her hands gripped the sheets tightly.

To be intimate with a dragon felt like a dream, feeling the heat radiate off of her body, her skin glistening with sweat. It was an honor to teach her, an honor to touch her, and an honor to watch her as she was pleasured.

You gently pushed her back onto the bed, her silver-gold hair fanned out on the pillow like a halo around her head, the moonlight shining through the window, illuminating her body. You wondered if the Targaryens tasted different than other women, their blood was so close to dragon blood, the magic that was once coursing through their veins, maybe it still did, maybe it still lingered.

Rhaenyra looked up at you with wide eyes as you kissed down the valley between her breasts and over her stomach, your warm lips leaving a trail of kisses and soft bites on her skin. You glanced up at her, making sure she was okay as you kissed her mound. You could smell her sweet scent, like honey and jasmine.

Your eyes stayed locked with hers as you slowly moved down, kissing her inner thigh, your nose tickling her soft flesh. You could hear her breath catch in her throat as you pressed a soft kiss against her swollen pearl, her hips lifting up slightly at the feeling. You smiled and gave it another kiss, flicking your tongue over it before sucking it into your mouth.

You could feel her squirming beneath you, her thighs trying to close around your head. You placed a hand on her stomach, holding her still as you licked, sucked and nipped. Her moans filled the room, her back arching off the bed, her hand flying to the top of your head and pulling on your hair.

Her taste flooded your mouth as she cried out, her body shaking with her climax. You slowly eased your lips off her, moving back and reaching out your hands, pulling her into a sitting position. You kissed her shoulder, her neck, and her jaw, moving your lips up to hers, kissing her gently, letting her taste herself.

"Men, you see, don't know the first thing about a woman's body," you explained, stroking her hair gently as she tried to catch her breath, "they fail to understand just what it takes to please one."

"They can be a bit selfish, can't they?" Rhaenyra whispered, a slow smile spreading across her face as you nodded.

You giggled and wrapped your arms around her waist, pulling her flush against your body, your breasts pressed together.

The candles flickered, light bouncing off your bodies which were now glistening with a soft sheen of sweat. The sound of the heavy rainfall and the cracking of the fire drowned out the laboured breathing as you placed your leg over her hip and brought your core against hers.

Rhaenyra gasped when you made contact, and you began to rock your hips, grinding yourself against her. You held her tightly, her hands gripping your ass, squeezing and guiding you, trying to find the right rhythm.

Soft gasps and moans echoed off the stone walls as the two of you moved together, your lips brushing over hers. Rhaenyra moaned into your mouth, becoming lost in the pleasure, the heat, the wetness, the feeling of you against her.

Daemon had always loved a good storm. The sound of the hammering rain, the crack of the lightning and the rumble of thunder made his blood rush.

He had been away from home for far too long, so much that he had forgotten the tranquility Dragonstone provided. Even on nights such as these, when the weather was unpredictable, he loved the thrill of riding on Caraxes over the hills and valleys, letting the storm rage, letting the wind and rain beat his body, it was exhilarating.

But the thrill he craved the most was that of his wife. He missed his queen, his darling Rhaenyra. He missed the way they clashed together, tearing into each other with claws and teeth and desire. Nothing could tame the fire he had for her.

He landed Caraxes in the courtyard and dismounted, his boots splashing in the puddles as he strides towards the main entrance. He entered the castle and began to make his way through the dimly lit halls, heading towards the royal chambers.

Guards watched as the king consort strolled through the castle, drenched from the rain with his hair wet and braided. He was in his element here, walking the halls of his ancestral home, eyes blazing and the blood in his veins running hot.

He came to the large wooden doors of the royal chambers and opened them, entering the room and closing them behind him. The first thing he noticed was the smell. It was sweet, like honey, and the air was thick with a heady aroma.

His eye was immediately drawn to the vast windows, from which he could see the beautiful night sky and the dark and stormy seas, the rain pelted the windows and the sound echoed throughout the room.

A slither of lightning brightened up the room for a moment. the flash of light allowing Daemon to see two naked figures intertwined in a soft and untroubled sleep.

He stayed still by the door, taking in the sight of the two bodies before him. They lay on their sides facing each other, their legs and arms entwined, their hair splayed out on the pillows and their skin glistening. He could see the soft rise and fall of their chests, and the peaceful look on their faces as they slept.

He knew he deserved this, whatever this affair was. He couldn't blame his wife for seeking out affection when he provided her with none. But he would have never expected it to be her closest handmaiden.

He was intrigued by the pair and found himself approaching the bed. He could see your breasts peeking out from the sheets, the way your skin was flushed, and how your hair was sticking to your face and neck. His wife's skin was the same, her cheeks rosy and her lips parted, soft snores escaping.

This was a gift and he couldn't deny himself a taste.

He pulled off his gloves and cloak, leaving them in a heap on the floor, then he approached his wife. He leaned over her, placing a hand on her hip, feeling her warmth against his palm. He slowly slid his hand up her side and over her shoulder, caressing her cheek. He could hear her soft sigh, and her body began to stir as he gently pushed her hair away from her face.

He leaned down and placed a tender kiss on her cheek, her skin soft and supple beneath his lips. "Rhaenyra," he purred, kissing further down to her neck, sucking on the sensitive skin, "what are you dreaming about?"

She shifted a little, her head lolling to the side as he kissed her shoulder. Her lips parted, and a quiet moan escaped her, and she turned her head towards him.

"Daemon?" she muttered, her voice sleepy.

He hummed, the sound vibrating against her skin, his stubble scratching her, "wake up, love."

Her eyes slowly opened, and the realization that her husband was home washed over her.

"Daemon," she repeated, her eyes widening.

He pulled back and met her gaze, his lips curling into a wicked grin.

"Hello, my love," he said, his voice low, his tone teasing.

Her heart started to race and she looked over at you, her face reddening when she saw your sleeping form.

"She's new," Daemon commented, noticing the way she watched you, "your first, yes?"

Rhaenyra's blush darkened as she nodded.

He smiled and walked over to you, reaching out and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. His eyes scanned over your body, noticing the way the sheets barely covered your naked form.

"You have good taste," he said, his fingers brushing your cheek, his knuckles lightly grazing your lips.

She couldn't help but watch the way his eye raked over your body, how his touch lingered. It stirred something within her, something she had never felt before. She didn't feel jealous, nor did she feel embarrassed, rather she was curious.

Daemon noticed her watching, and he glanced over at her, smirking at the look on his wife's face.

"Did she teach you much?" he asked her, his fingers running down your arm.

"Some," Rhaenyra answered, her eyes following his fingers, her chest rising and falling as her breathing quickened.

"Show me," Daemon said, looking up at her.

Her eyes met his and her heart skipped a beat. She wanted to, she desperately wanted to. The idea of sharing you with him, showing him what you had taught her, ignited a fire in her, one that burned hotter than the one that burned between the two of them.

She nodded, moving towards you, her eyes locked on his.

He smiled, walking over to the nearby table and pouring himself a glass of wine. He leaned back against the table and took a sip as he watched his wife slowly wake you.

You felt a gentle touch on your cheek, a thumb brushing over your lips. Your eyes slowly fluttered open, and your gaze was met by beautiful purple ones, a loving smile gracing the lips of the young queen.

Her kiss was tender and sweet, her hand caressing your cheek as she deepened the kiss. A quiet moan escaped you, and you returned the kiss, reaching out to cup her face, pulling her closer.

The kiss quickly became heated, both of you desperate to taste and feel each other. Your hands wandered, touching and groping, and you let out a soft moan against her lips.

That's when you heard a low, raspy laugh. Your eyes shot open and you looked over Rhaenyra's shoulder and saw Daemon standing by the table, a wine goblet in his hand, his eyes fixed on you.

He smirked, raising his drink in your direction.

Your cheeks burned, realizing the king consort was watching. You quickly sat up, pulling the sheets over your body as Rhaenyra's gaze flicked between you and him.

"No, please, continue, I was enjoying the show," Daemon chuckled, taking a long swig of his wine.

You felt your cheeks heat up under his gaze and your body tensed as his eyes drifted down your naked body, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. You could tell by the growing bulge in his trousers that he was indeed turned on by what he was seeing.

His smile grew, clearly enjoying how flustered you were, how his presence had caught you off guard.

Daemon turned and walked across the room, locking the door, making a point to look at the two of you as he did so. Rhaenyra looked at you and then back at him, swallowing hard as he slowly began walking towards the bed, his footsteps echoing on the stone floor.

He pulled his tunic over his head and tossed it aside, standing before you and Rhaenyra bare-chested. His body was covered in scars from past battles, the damaged skin shining slightly in the moonlight. His eyes were burning with a fire that made the pit of your stomach flutter.

Panic flooded your mind, clouding your reasoning. You quickly scrambled out of bed, holding the sheet to your body. You bowed, your legs trembling slightly as you lowered yourself in front of him.

"M-my king conso-, f-forgive me. I-I...I'm so sorry." You stuttered, your voice shaking, feeling your heart race.

You didn't dare look up at him. You kept your head down and your eyes focused on his feet.

He chuckled, looking at his wife then back at you, taking in the sight of you kneeling before him, your body quivering and the blanket barely covering your breasts. He could see the panic in your eyes, and the way you trembled, like a small bird that had just been caught by a predator.

Daemon grabbed you by the wrist, his grip strong but gentle, pulling you to your feet and back towards the bed, pushing you down next to his wife. You gasped as your back hit the soft mattress and you looked up at him, fear and confusion in your eyes.

"Relax," he whispered, his voice low, his hand reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips.

Your gaze flicked between him and Rhaenyra. They had an intense gaze, and it was clear they had a connection, an energy, a bond. Their eyes locked onto each other, and Daemon smiled, bringing his free hand up to cup her cheek.

"She's a lovely creature, isn't she?" He mused, his eyes still on his wife.

"Yes," Rhaenyra whispered, her cheeks burning and her heart pounding.

"You enjoyed her?"

"Very much."

He hummed, his hand moving up and grasping her chin, pulling her close and kissing her.

You watched in awe as his lips moved against hers, his tongue sliding into her mouth. Rhaenyra's hands rested on his shoulders, clinging tightly to him. You could see her nipples were hard, her breasts pressing against his chest.

"I can taste her on your lips." He said, his voice low, his gaze flicking to you.

Your face turned red, and you couldn't stop staring. They were so beautiful together, their passion seemed to radiate off of them.

Rhaenyra turned to you and smiled, her cheeks flushed and her eyes full of lust.

Daemon smirked, pulling back and moving to lean against the headboard, his eye raking over your body, his cock straining against his trousers.

"Well, don't let me stop you," he said, taking another swig of his wine.

Rhaenyra's eyes sparkled with mischief as she turned back to you. She pressed her lips to yours, kissing you deeply, her hands roaming your body.

Daemon watched with a grin, his hand moving to his crotch, squeezing his erection as she kissed down your jaw, moving to your neck and over the swell of your breasts. Her lips leaving a trail of warm, wet kisses on your skin.

Daemon's eyes were fixed on the two of you as Rhaenyra's kisses traveled further down your body, stopping between your legs. You felt her warm breath on your thighs, and you couldn't help but moan softly, feeling her mouth move closer to your aching core.

"Look at me," Daemon commanded.

You turned your head, meeting his gaze, his eyes burning into you as Rhaenyra pressed a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh. Her lips traveled up and over your mound, her inexperience was evident, but the young queen was determined to prove herself.

You let out a soft whimper, your hips lifting off the bed, feeling her warm tongue slowly drag up the length of your pussy. She moved her tongue between your lips, tasting the wetness that had pooled there.

Daemon watched with amusement, his eyes darkening as Rhaenyra began to lap and suck. Her mouth was warm and wet, her tongue moving in slow circles. She was doing well, making you squirm with need.

You couldn't stop the moans from escaping your lips, your hands gripping the sheets. Daemon untied his breeches, freeing his erect cock.

It was a beautiful sight, seeing him slowly stroke himself, his gaze never leaving the two of you. To be in the presence of two dragons was an honour, but to be fucked by the two of them was something else entirely.

Daemon moved closer to the two of you, his hand reaching out, caressing the curve of your cheek. He cupped your chin and tilted your head, turning your attention away from his wife and onto him.

He leaned down and kissed you deeply, his tongue darting into your mouth. His fingers brushed over your nipples, making them harden, his teeth tugging at your lower lip.

Rhaenyra paused, looking up at the two of you kissing, watching as her husband claimed your mouth, his fingers pinching and teasing your breasts. She enjoyed the way you reacted to him, your body quivering beneath them, your hips bucking up towards her.

Daemon slowly pulled away, looking at his wife, and then back at you. His strong hands trailed down your body, his fingers dancing along the curves of your breasts, the swell of your stomach, and the dip of your navel.

Rhaenyra watched his fingers dip inside you, his thumb brushing against your swollen pearl. Your back arched, and you moaned, his touch sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

Daemon smiled and began rubbing you, his fingers moving in slow circles. Then he pulled his fingers out and pushed them past Rhaenyras lips. She sucked them clean, her cheeks flushed as she looked up at him.

"Do you like the way she tastes?" Daemon asked, pulling his fingers from her mouth.

"Yes," she replied, a smile tugging at her lips.

He let out an approving little hum, sitting up and looking down at his wife, his cock still in his hand.

"Continue," he told her.

Rhaenyra nodded and returned to her task, her tongue slow and deliberate, licking and sucking, savoring every drop of you. You felt the heat rising inside of you, the warmth spreading through your body.

You reached out and began to stroke Daemon's cock, his head falling back and his eyes closing.

"Good girl," he said, his voice low.

You pumped his cock, feeling the hard, silky flesh between your fingers, precum leaking from the tip. He moved closer and you licked the head, swirling your tongue around the tip. You could taste the saltiness as you slowly took him into your mouth, feeling the weight of him on your tongue.

You bobbed your head up and down, taking him as deep as you could, your eyes never leaving his. His eyes were dark, filled with lust, his pupils blown wide. He moaned and grabbed a handful of your hair, guiding your head up and down, fucking your mouth.

The sound of his grunts and moans filled the air, along with the soft, wet sounds of Rhaenyras mouth. She had begun to suck harder, her fingers joining her tongue, pumping in and out of you.

You moaned around his cock, the vibrations sending a wave of pleasure through his body, his hips thrusting forward.

"That's it, sweet girl," Daemon murmured, his grip tightening, pulling your hair and forcing you to look up at him. He looked beautiful, his silver hair hanging down, framing his face.

Rhaenyra was moving faster, her tongue and fingers working in tandem, the heat between her thighs intensifying. She pushed you over the edge, your thighs shaking as you came, a muffled moan escaping your lips.

Daemon pulled his cock out of your mouth, smirking as he tapped the tip against your tongue. Then his eyes drifted to his wife, her lips swollen and shining, her cheeks flushed.

He pulled her up and kissed her deeply, tasting the sweetness of your arousal on her lips. He grabbed her hips and pulled her closer, his cock pressing against her stomach.

You watched the two dragons kiss, their tongues sliding against each other, their bodies pressed together. It was a beautiful sight, their silver hair looked as though it was entwined, the moonlight making their skin shine.

Daemon broke the kiss and moved his lips to his wife's neck, sucking and biting, marking her pale skin. She gasped and moaned, her hands pressing into his chest.

You were lying there, your body still trembling from your climax, watching as the queen and king got lost in each other.

You could hear the sounds of their kissing, the soft moans and grunts, the rustling of the sheets. Rhaenyra pushed him back onto the soft bed, trailing kisses over his chest and stomach. Her fingers grazed the scars that covered his chest, the ones she knew all too well.

Daemon watched as his wife took his cock in her mouth, slowly sliding her lips up and down, taking him as deep as she could. He groaned and reached out for you, pulling you closer, his fingers tangling in your hair as he kissed you.

Rhaenyra's eyes met yours, her lips curled around her husband's cock. She looked so beautiful, her eyes wide and filled with lust, her mouth stretched and her cheeks flushed.

She slowly pulled her mouth away from him, moving up to straddle him. He gripped her hips, his eyes filled with desire, his lips parted.

He could feel her wetness against his cock, sliding up and down his length, her breasts bouncing slightly as she moved.

"Kneel for you king," he whispered against your lips, gently biting down on your bottom lip.

You pulled back, slightly confused by his request, until he gestured to his face. You blushed furiously as you realized what he wanted. You moved closer, his hands guiding you, helping you straddle his face, facing Rhaenyra.

She smirked, her eyes locked with yours as you both lowered yourselves. The two of you leaned in and shared a messy kiss, tongues slipping past swollen lips.

Daemon's hummed against you, his stubble scratching your thighs and his hands tight on your hips. He always wanted to die a dragon rider's death... But this? This was a glorious way to go.

Rhaenyra's eyes closed, her head resting on your shoulder as she began to move, her hips rocking, his cock hitting that spot deep inside her. Daemon had never felt such pure bliss, the taste of you on his tongue and the feeling of his wife riding him, the sounds of soft moans like a chorus.

The three of you were lost in the heat and the pleasure, the taste and the touch. You could hear the bed creaking, the headboard hitting the wall, the sheets rustling, the sound of lips and skin crashing against one another.

You watched the way your queen rode her husband, her body moving like water, her hips rolling and grinding against his. You reached down to where they were connected, touching her, feeling the wetness of her arousal mixed with the thickness of her husband's cock.

Daemon groaned and held you tighter, his grip on your hips almost bruising, his mouth devouring you.

Rhaenyra leaned in and kissed you, her hands cradling your face, lips crashing together. You could feel your legs beginning to tremble, the pressure of your release building.

"Cum with me," Rhaenyra purred, her forehead pressed to yours.

You nodded, with half lidded eyes, watching Rhaenyra grind her hips faster, her nails scraping down your arms as she held onto you. The pressure inside you became too much and your climax hit you hard. Rhaenyra's moans were loud and breathy, her head thrown back, her pale skin glistening with sweat, her silver hair cascading down her back and the candlelight danced across her skin.

The two of you rode out your highs, gasping and panting. Your fingers intertwined with hers, the smell of sex heavy in the air. Daemon followed soon after, a guttural moan escaping his lips, his cock twitching, his release spilling into his wife.

You slowly climbed off Daemon and collapsed on the bed, the three of you tumbling into a tangle of limbs and sheets.

Rhaenyra snuggled up next to her husband, his arms wrapping around her and pulling her close. You watched the two of them, a small smile on your lips, the love they had for each other was plain to see. Daemon looked over at you, reaching his arm out and beckoning you to him.

You scooted closer, cuddling up to him, his arm wrapping around your waist.

"This is my favorite one so far," he said softly, kissing your forehead.

Rhaenyra giggled, leaning over him to kiss you, her lips soft and warm. You felt safe and content, lying there with the two dragons, their fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin.

"Shall we keep her?" Rhaenyra asked, looking up at her husband, a lazy smile curling at her lips.

"Indeed, we shall," Daemon replied, his hand moving up and down her arm.

The three of you stayed there for a while, enjoying the closeness, the warmth and comfort of each other's bodies. You could feel your eyes beginning to close, the exhaustion creeping in, the heat from them made you feel sleepy and comfortable.

To be in the presence of not just one dragon, but two, was a great honor. But to be their mistress? Their shared lover? That was the rarest of privileges, one that you would savor for the rest of your days.

[insomniakisses]

As much as i love the idea of alpha Rhaenyra and omega Alicent. The current brainrot of omega reader and omega rhaenyra topping subby! Whiney! Alpha alicent has me chomping at the mother fucking bit.

You know babys leaking pre everywhere the neediest moans and whines escaping her pouty lips as you and rhae tease her and pleasure eachother. 😩

[wyvernest]

cold nights by the fire

cregan stark x betrothed f! reader

cw: smut, piv, creampie, fluff, slightly typical-medieval sexist views, loss of virginity

summary: your soon-to-be husband keeps you warm on your first cold night in Winterfell

Ever since the war ended, nights have grown colder in the regretted absence of most dragonfire in Westeros. High and sharp winds have started growing in the North, sweeping far south of The Wall and clawing at the gates of Winterfell.

Tonight was no different. You had asked your handmaiden to build a fire in the hearth for both your comfort, but with little gain. As soon as you stepped away from the red, licking flames, the cold took over like shadow vanquishing light.

“It’s all in vain.” you mutter, defeated.

“I shall bring more furs, m’lady.” your handmaiden insists, getting up from her spot by the fire.

“Don’t.”, you chuckle, “Any more and I’ll suffocate. They’ll have to send all the guards to come looking for me amongst them come morn’.”

Your companion lets a shy laugh escape her trembling lips, although short-lived as a tall, broad shadow appears by the door. 

“My lady.” Your heart flutters wildly at the unmistakable sound of your betrothed’s voice, so gentle and concerned. “Are you well?”

Nodding for your handmaiden to retreat to her own chamber, you now become aware of your condition; kneeled on the rough tapestry, crumbled into a ball of pelts, hands above the flames. Sour shame washes over you, for having dared to believe you were one of the toughest of your family during harsh times, yet now conquered by the cold on your first night in Winterfell. 

“Cregan.” you shuffle to raise to your feet but your freezing legs aren’t eager to heed your intent. “I must admit, my northern blood has betrayed me tonight, for the first time.” 

You are startled amidst your struggles to flee from the furs as he braces you with a firm hand on your back, before his other comes around your waist, easily lifting you off the rugs. He walks back, placing you on the soft bed and sitting beside you, the covers rigid with night’s chill underneath.

“I will not have my lady wife quiver in my own keep.” He rids himself of his cloak swiftly, draping it over your smaller frame. The hastiness of the gesture makes a newfound warmth pool in your veins, reminding you of the same way he is to soon cloak you as his lady, in sight of the Old Gods. 

“Thank you,” You whisper, surprised and stunned, as you cuddle closer into his embrace. His body heat soon seeps into you, your trembling diminishing as his strong arms faintly squeeze more and more. 

‘Exhilarated’ didn’t begin to properly describe how you felt when Lord Cregan started courting you not long after he had returned from the southern war of the Targaryens. Your house is pledged to the Starks, but with the safety of the North now secured, he did not deem it necessary to strengthen alliances with marriage anymore, not when he could follow his heart so freely.

A giddy shiver rouses you from oncoming slumber, as the last slither of cold leaves your body in a sneeze you wished you could suppress. 

“Come closer.” You can feel his hot breath on your face as he moves you over his lap, his right arm running up and down your back in hopes of keeping you warm.

“Is this proper? So soon, before the wedding?” You do not wish to so easily disrespect customs and laws, but it wasn't rare that you found yourself fantasising about finally being his.

“I am merely looking after my beloved. I already vowed to shield you from harm.” You cannot tell if there was a trace of amusement in his tone or if it was just your mind jesting.

“Not before the gods.”

“The gods knew of the pledge before I could speak it. The ceremony will be held, but my loyalties will have been with you for long before.” The hold around your waist tightens, affectionate.

You look up at him, pondering your next words carefully; but before you could muster up a word, your eyes drift to his lips, only for a moment. He doesn't need a clearer impulse to proceed.

His mouth meets yours with a warm exhale that seems to bewitch you, all senses and shock diffusing into the need of being with him. Your face is hot, the skin of your waist is buzzing under his touch even through thick clothing. Your kiss is shy, despite his growing hunger. He nips at your soft lips, his right hand cradling your face, warm and calloused, yet so tender.

His left palm grazes your thigh, a reassuring safety seasoned with soft need. 

You cannot dream of stopping him. Your only concern is him ceasing at an awful time, only to return to his usual, honourable self and leave you desperate until the wedding. But he does not back away, more and more enraptured with you, the scent of you, your skin and your soft sighs. 

He kisses down your jaw, down your throat, wet, hot and open-mouthed. Your body has forgotten all about the sting of cold, leaning back onto the furs. He follows without breaking away, climbing on top of you slowly yet steadily. You moan in surprise as he begins to toy with the back strings of your dress.

“If you wish me gone, I will be gone at once, wife.” He vows.

Returning into view, he looks at you from atop, his brows soothing at the realisation that you are about to welcome him.

“Warm my bed tonight, husband.” You utter, a feather’s puff aways from his lips.

With that, he descends upon you, tasting your words on your lips, his hands cradling your liquified body like softened candle wax. You're burning up and twisting with excitement under the blazing flame of his heat. 

His hands slowly rid you of your garments, leaving you in your white shift, before slipping underneath and grabbing your waist. His touch leaves your skin aching and burning behind, his kisses mark you in a scorch palpable only to you. His touch climbs past your waist, coming to fondle the soft flesh of your breasts. Your heart beat is so strong you swear he might feel it as he softly squeezes your tit.

You shuffle in his hold, seeking to press yourself closer and closer into him, as if to become one. He indulges, himself wanting to wrap you up entirely in his embrace. Your soft breasts come flush against his hard chest, legs curling up around his waist as you receive him between your parted thighs. 

His breathing gradually becomes laboured as he moves against you, pulling the covers over you both. As he continues to caress the curves and dips of your shape, his groin brushes up against your flower and your hips betray you, dragging back up against him. With a low grunt, he frees himself from his breeches with one hand, and you pull at his chemise to fully undress him.

“Are you certain?” You inquire, out of breath.

“Always have been.” He soothes your worries with another heart-stopping kiss, sealing the premature bedding with an undoubting vow.

You feel him guide himself into you, the tip of his manhood prodding at the pink petals of your unplucked rose, claiming you. He pushes in and you gladly accept him, wet and wanting. 

“Gods, you feel amazing.” He groans above you, finally settled completely into you, before pulling back out and starting to roll his hips, steady yet hard enough to have you tensing at the sudden feeling of kindles in your womb. 

He sinks deep into you with every thrust, breathing heavy on your neck, groaning in your ear, whipping at the cold and dark of the bedchamber. You can smell the pinewood and musk on him, closer than you’ve ever been before, and it drowns out your senses, reducing you to the rapid waters of a river, bending and breaking against harsh stones of mountains, willing and united. 

You gasp out his name as the air is filled with your moans and pleas, the wood-carved bed frame ramming into the bleak stone walls of Winterfell with an echoless rhythm. 

He worships your body like you were a godly grace bestowed upon him, listening to your every sound and heeding every sign that he could do more for your pleasure. Eventually his thrusts grow urgent and scattered in between breaths, and before he can muffle your ecstatic whines with another kiss, you come, your delicate flower quivering around him, pushing him into the peak of his own satisfaction. 

You feel him throb inside, filling you with a strange, new sensation. He collapses by your side, tenderly dragging you with him. He strokes up and down your back, his breaths calming with a deep sigh.

“Is my lady still in discomfort?” He jests lightly, proud with himself and immensely content.

You snuggle at his side, head on his chest. “No. But I'm afraid I will be in need of your aid every night, my lord.”

[goldensunflowe-r]

But Daddy I Love Him 🥺

Version - II

[hearteyedfeelings]

also also this may just be in my head but there was a moment when Alicent realized it was Rhaenyra in disguise and she was right back to her younger self exasperated by Nyra's sheer dumbassery and bullheadedness. it was the quickest exchange and it was SO GOOD.

[sonolynn]

What the Fates Allow-P

summary | Sixteen years ago, Rhaenyra gave birth to a bastard, a girl in which she sent away. Sixteen years later, that bastard would fall into the hands of none other than Prince Aegon himself.

pairing | Aegon Targaryen x Bastard!Reader

tags | talks of birth, bastards, some sexual content mentioned, drunkenness, blood, mentions of drunkenness and ale, ooc!aegon because...he's complex. not proof read

w.c | 1.5k

note(s) | ITS HEREEEEE!!! This is set around the time of drift mark, so Aegon would be around like sixteen.

___________________________________________

Nine moons ago, Rhaenyra had gotten a speech from her dear uncle Daemon about how the “Dragon” could take what and whomever they wished. And in this case, Rhaenyra chose her uncle Daemon Targaryen. Outraged by the news that Rhaenyra could have possibly slept with someone outside of marriage, Queen Alicent Hightower gave Rhaenyra moon tea; A tea only made by the most skilled Maesters to therefore prevent or abort pregnancies. If brewed correctly, the tea could “take care of the problem”, which is what queen Alicent intended it to do. 

Being complacent, Rhaenyra took the tea and drank it. But, what no one told her about moon tea, was that if brewed incorrectly, it would cause great, severe pains in the stomach and could lead to death-or worse, being pregnant. 

And, Rhaenyra found out three moons later that the tea did in fact, not work. So, for the next seven months, Rhaenyra hid her pregnancy under the guise that “she was gaining weight”. She wore ill fitting clothes to hide her bump, and, as the time came closer for her to deliver, Rhaenyra was sent away under the pretext that she was visiting her uncle, Daemon Targaryen in Dragonstone. 

And now, Rhaenyra sat in the bed, the pain between her legs only growing as she pushed. The servants comforted her from behind her as she labored. If she was to be fully honest the small comforts brought her only more anxiety. The stress from having to keep this a secret, to having to travel to a different town under the guise that she was “visiting” a family member, made this situation so much more consequential. 

The birth was not easy. Rhaenyra felt like the world was shifting underneath her multiple times, and the pains that traveled through her back and towards her hips definitely did not help. She swore to herself multiple times that, feeling as though she would pass out at any moment. But then, the pain stopped, and so did the world as she heard the small cries of her infant.

“A girl, princess.” The servant smiled softly, handing the wrapped bundle to Rhaenyra. 

As Rhaenyra held her babe, she felt an overwhelming sense of joy, fear, and protectiveness wash over her. This tiny, innocent creature came from her, her. The small girl nuzzled close to Rhaenyra, still whimpering. Rhaenyra smiled, holding her babe close whilst staring into her eyes. As she studied her new daughter, Rhaenyra noticed the small mark on the girl's chin. Rhaenyra reached up, and she ran a finger over the mark, her eyes studying it carefully. 

For the next month, Rhaenyra stayed in Dragonstone, taking care of this babe and growing more and more fond of her. As she recovered, however, the time neared in which she would have to give her daughter up. Rhaenyra didn’t know why, but the pain in her chest tightened daily as the day neared. She thought that it would be easier-to give away this babe-but, as she walked through Flea Bottom, dressed as an peasants costume, the realization dawned on her that she truly loved this babe; That parting with her firstborn daughter-even if she was sired by Daemon Targaryen-would be something she would regret for the rest of her life. 

Rhaenyra walked up to the door of the brothel, her heart twisting around itself as she stared blankly at the door. Was this truly the fate she wished upon her daughter? To be forced into a shame filled life, a life in which she grew thinking that nobody would want her? No…No she couldn’t possibly- 

But then the door to the brothel opened, and there stood Madam Sylvie. Rhaenyra knew that there would be no going back now, that she had dug her own daughter's grave and now she must lie down in it. 

“Take care of her. Gentle.” Rhaenyra spoke softly, handing her daughter, her precious girl, to the Madam. The Madam nodded gently, holding the girl close to her. The girl started to cry softly, missing the warmth of her mothers embrace. The madam looked up at Rhaenyra, but Rhaenyra stood strong; As strong as she could. 

“She is precious, do not let men use and hurt her…She doesn't deserve such a fate.” The madam nodded gently at Rhaenyra’s words, listening intently over the infant's cries. 

“Of course, Princess.” Rhaenyra watched her daughter squirm in the strangers arms, and she let out a breathy sigh. 

“Her name is Y/n.” And with that, Rhaenyra turned and she left. At the sound of her mothers retreating steps, the babe started to cry louder. Rhaenyra had the urge to turn back, say forget it and deal with the shame of living at court with a bastard. But her pride got in the way, and while listening to the symphony of her daughter's cries, Rhaenyra left. 

___________________________________________

Sixteen years later. 

“Y/N!” Madame Sylvie yelled out. She looked up from the cup that she was cleaning, searching for Sylvie. Her eyes softened slightly as she found Madam Slyvie approaching her. 

“Yes, Madame?” She spoke softly, gently placing the cup back down. The madam sighed softly as she placed a hand on her head. 

“The prince is over there, drunk of course. Could you bring him a pint, dear?” 

“Of course, Madame.” She was confused for a moment. The prince? Well, which one? It could be Daemon Targaryen, or Aemond, or Aegon, the girl did not know. But, nonetheless she smiled, quickly filling up a pint and quickly walking in the direction of the boy. She leans down, holding out the pint to him. The boy seemed dazed, his shoulder length hair greasy and messy, his cheeks rosy and his eyes elsewhere.  

He turned, staring at her curiously as he gently took the pint. He seemed interested in her, the way her eyes held a certain gleam to them that he did not see in others. 

“...You look..familiar.” The boy says. The phrase makes her pause, her hands gently brushing against his as she slides the pint into his hand. She didn’t recognize the boy, barely ever having seen him amongst the hundreds of men's faces that she saw daily. 

“I do not recall us meeting.” She spoke gently, so as to not accidentally offend the young man. When she went to stand, the boy grabbed her wrist, a drunken smirk caressing his juvenile features. He stared at her with a hunger that she had seen many times before in men; The hunger that the madam never let her satisfy. 

“How much do you charge, girl?” He asked slowly. She stared at him, confused for a moment. She withdrew her hand, much to the boy's dismay. 

“I am not…I do not offer services, my lord.” She speaks softly, as to try and keep his inevitable anger at bay. But, much to her surprise, the boy didn’t seem angered, only more determined.

“A moment of your time then?” Asked the boy, his smirk still evident on his face. She seemed scared, for a moment thinking that he would take advantage of her, but the boy sighed heavily in his drunken state and he sat up a little. “I mean you no harm. I just wish for company.” He spoke softly. There was something almost comforting at his tone of voice, something juvenile and hurt lying beneath. 

“Alright then. Company you shall have.” 

The two sat and talked for genuine hours. Madame Sylivie paid them no mind, happy to have someone distract the drunken prince from her girls. The prince confided int the girl, and the girl in him, and at the end of their talk, he handed her a bag of coins. 

“For your time.” He spoke. When placed in the girls hand she gasped, feeling its weight. She immediately went to hand it back to him. 

“My prince I could never take such a sum-” But the prince refused to hear it. He gently closed her hand over the bag of coins and smiled at her. Albeit a drunken one, she could not say that it was not a charming one.

“You should be paid for your services, girl. They were most enjoyable.” And with that, he left her, flustered and confused. Until the next time he visited. 

For the next few years Y/N sat with this Prince-who she learned was Aegon-in the same corner, at the same time, at the same place. He would not bed her, nor would he force her to do anything she didn’t wish to. He found himself staring at her when she would not be looking, sneaking small touches, and so forth, but he refused to believe that he may like her, romantically. He could not have a lowly barmaid as his wife, even if he wished to (which he swore he didn’t). So, the drunken prince found a friend in this barmaid. And, although he would not say it,  perhaps something a little more than a friend.

___________________________________________

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[maidragoste]

The Decision

Daemon Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader, minor Harwin Strong x Velaryon!Reader, Rhaenyra Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader

Again another AU with the reader of The Sea Dragon, The Clubfoot and The Green Queen (you don't need to read it to understand this one shot because this story starts LONG BEFORE the canon of that universe).

Summary: When King Viserys announces that he plans to marry you, you make a decision to avoid becoming the king's wife.

Now you can read this bonus!

TW: This is NSFW (if you don't like it you can read only the Rhaenyra and Harwin parts)

I was dying to share this with all of you so I hope you like it!

If you want to read more of this Reader and Daemon, don't hesitate to let me know in the comments or in my inbox 🤭

REBLOGS, comments and likes are always greatly appreciated 🥰🥰💖💖

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes. Also this is my first smut so sorry if it's weird to read.

You felt your heart hammering as you waited for the king to make his announcement. Your stomach wouldn't stop spinning and you have no idea how you still hadn't vomited up what you had for breakfast.

With every passing second you have to keep yourself from running out of the council chambers. You couldn't stop looking at your father, a part of you wanted to take his hand and ask him to get you out of here but you didn't trust him anymore. You were in this situation because of him. You always knew that your father is a proud and ambitious man but you never thought that his ambition would be greater than his love for you. If your father really loved you he wouldn't have sent you to the king's chambers. He wouldn't have made you start wearing dresses that showed more skin for your visits with him. Gods, you wanted to hit your father so badly, you wanted to wipe the smile off his face because both he and you knew what Viserys was going to announce. Everyone knew it, you noticed that Otto Hightower was trying to hide his annoyance from everyone, the only one who seemed unaware of the tension in the room was Rhaenyra.

“I have decided to take a new wife,” the king began and you noticed how he and Rhaenyra exchanged a look. You were surprised to see your cousin nod as if she was permitting him to move on. Did Rhaenyra know? Did she approve of this? “I intend to get married,” he continued, this time looking at you and your father. You forced a smile as you dug your nails into your palms, feeling helpless for being in this situation “with Lady Y/N Velaryon before spring.”

Your eyes met Rhaenyra's purple ones. There was none of the love or fun you usually saw. Now she was looking at you with a mixture of pain and fury. The pain in your stomach got worse. Nyra had never looked at you like that. This shouldn't be happening.

It was obvious that she didn't know that her father was planning to marry you. You wanted to scream, you wanted to hug her and tell her that this wasn't what you wanted, that you weren't trying to steal her mother's place, that you would never do anything to hurt her.

"Rhaenyra" the king called her but the princess left the chambers anyway. You couldn't take this anymore so you went after her, ignoring your father's calls.

You followed the princess. You could feel the fabric of your dress sticking together due to perspiration, you didn't know if it was because of your nerves or because you were practically almost running after Rhaenyra. It was uncomfortable but right now you didn't care. You needed to clear things up with her. You couldn't stand that she hated you.

"Nyra" you called when she finally stopped. You two were in the gardens, in front of the heart tree. Where more than once you had Rhaenyra lay with her head in your lap while you sang her any song she wanted. Where you two used to stay out in the sun complaining about the septa's lessons while you combed her hair. This tree has so many good memories and now you fear there will be no more.

"How could you?!" she yelled at you furiously. She couldn't believe how you had been by her side, comforting her, accompanying her in her grief, remembering the stories the both shared with her mother so that later you went behind her back to conquer her father. When her father told her that he needed to take another wife she thought it would be Laena Velaryon. Not from you. Never from you. You were supposed to be hers.

"Please, Nyra, don't hate me" you begged and grabbed her hands desperately, pulling her closer to you "I swear I didn't want this but my father" you shook your head and forced yourself to continue talking trying to ignore the knot in your throat "I'll find a way to fix this, I promise" you kissed her hands.

The princess studied you for a few minutes. She needed to check that you weren't faking this just to avoid her anger. Your eyes seemed to be glazed over from the tears you were holding back and your hands clung to her desperately.

“I believe you,” she finally said and you sighed in relief.

"Thank you", you said with a shaking voice

This time it was Rhaenyra who kissed your hands and rested her forehead against yours. You closed your eyes feeling at peace for a moment knowing that she didn't hate you.

"I won't marry your father, Nyra. I promise."

If it weren't for the fact that she was now the heir to the throne, Rhaenyra would have told you that you would run away with her, that the two of you would go together on your dragons and travel the world together, and that you didn't need a husband, that if you wanted her, she would take you as a wife. But now she had obligations, she couldn't abandon everything for you even if her heart screamed for her to do so.

After clearing things up with Rhaenyra you went to your chambers. Of course, your father was waiting for you, he scolded you for your abrupt departure but he left you alone once you told him that you had managed to calm the princess's annoyance. Being alone you decided to put your plan into action, first you took a bath with the purpose of relaxing and getting rid of any trace of nerves you had before, then you put on one of your simplest dresses and placed a hooded cape on top to hide your hair. You were leaving the castle and you didn't need anyone to follow you.

You successfully slipped away and headed out into the streets in search of Harwin. You knew that today he had to stand guard on the streets of Flea Bottom. A girl in your position shouldn't be here but you didn't care. You needed to talk to him as soon as possible.

“Harwin” you called him when you finally found him.

“Lady Velaryon, you should not be here,” said the guard, gently hugging you by the shoulders and taking you to a corner further away from the people.

It felt bad to hear him call you in such a formal way when for weeks he had been calling you by your name or “sunshine”, the nickname he had given you. You remember like it was yesterday when you kissed him for the first time after he explained to you that the reason he called you that was because you brightened his days every time he saw you.

This sudden formality was like a slap in the face and he confirmed what you already feared.

“You know,” you declared sadly.

“My father told me,” he admitted, releasing you. You weren't surprised since Lyonel is on the council and had been present at this morning's meeting. You suspected that Harwin's father thought it would be best for him to find out from him rather than from someone else since you were sure that Lord Strong and your parents knew about the meetings between you and Harwin. You thought it was no secret that he was courting you, but apparently, not everyone knew because otherwise, Viserys would not have chosen you as his wife. Or maybe he knew but didn't care.

“This doesn't have to change what's between us,” you said as you stood on tiptoe to have his face closer to yours. “I don't want to marry the king. I want you” you whispered against his lips but without touching them. Harwin had to control himself from closing the small distance between you and kissing you. “Make me your wife,” you asked before capturing his lips with yours.

You froze when Harwin walked away from you.

“I can't,” he whispered and closed his eyes to avoid seeing the disappointment on your face.

“I thought you loved me” In your voice there was more anger than sadness but your body language was different, you found yourself hugging yourself trying to comfort yourself. You were disappointed.

“I do,” he stated firmly, opening his eyes so you could see that he spoke sincerely. “I love you. If it were any other man he would fight for you but…”

His silence told you everything. He loved you but it's not enough to face the king.

“You're a coward,” you spat and left the way you came.

You didn't really think Harwin was a coward but you were hurt by his rejection. You felt stupid to believe that whatever Harwin felt for you would be bigger than any coherent thought but you can't blame him after all any intelligent person would be afraid to go against the king's wishes and steal his fiancée…

But all was not lost, you knew someone well who was not afraid of Viserys and could help you. It was a desperate move and your parents would think you were an idiot for this but you refuse to be the king's wife. You had seen how as the years went by and with each pregnancy, Queen Aemma deteriorated. You didn't want the same thing.

You wrote to Daemon. You told him that the king wanted to marry you but that you were seeking to avoid this marriage and that you needed his help. You waited anxiously for his response while you had to feign excitement every time someone talked about your wedding preparations. Luckily it didn't take that long for a crow to arrive with the rogue prince's answer. There were no reassuring words in his letter, the only thing the scroll said was "Come to Dragonstone."

And that's what you did. Nobody suspected when the next day you went on the back of your dragon since everyone knew that there was not a day in which you did not disappear for a couple of hours to go flying with Nightwing.

"My prince, Lady Y/N Velaryon!" The guard announced your arrival before letting you enter the chambers where the prince was staying.

Daemon, who had seen you approach with Nightwing from the window, had his back turned but turned to look at you. He hasn't seen you in months. Your hair was longer and you seemed to have changed the way you dressed. The blue dress you were wearing seemed to have more cleavage, it wasn't anything scandalous enough for the court to talk about but it did draw attention.

"It's good to see you, Y/n" Daemon stated making you smile. You were sure that this was the first sincere smile you had given in days.

You waited for the guard to leave. Once you heard the sound of the door closing, you began to walk towards the prince without haste, trying to show as much confidence as possible. Normally you wouldn't be nervous around Daemon but you hadn't seen him in months and he was the only person who could help you. You didn't want to ruin this.

*I'm wondering the same. These months without you were boring "You weren't lying or trying to sugarcoat it to achieve your goal, it was simply the truth. Every time he leaves court you wish for his return.

"You still didn't come after me" Daemon held back his smile when he saw the surprise in your eyes.

He liked seeing that look in your eyes. Every time he brings you something new from his travels, every time he teaches you a new move in the training yard, every time he asks you for his favor in tournaments. How he had missed seeing you. He wouldn't tell you but he had missed you these past few months. So imagine his fury when after so long the first news he receives from you is that his brother plans to marry you. You are too much of a woman for Viserys. His brother wouldn't know what to do with you. You would spend the rest of your life bored. Daemon couldn't allow it.

"I didn't know you wanted that," you said, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"I invited you to go with me on my next trip, didn't I?"

Before Queen Aemma's death, when you helped Daemon put on his armor for the tournament you complained about the lengthening of his travels. The prince's response was to invite you to go with him next time. You were so excited to accompany him on his trips that you didn't wait for the tournament to end to ask your parents for permission. But then Aemma died and you didn't dare leave Rhaenyra.

You laughed. “That wasn't a trip, Daemon. Viserys exiled you.”

"And now he will exile you" he mocked, making you irritated but you quickly forgot about your irritation when Daemon placed his hands on your waist and pulled you closer to him, leaving your bodies pressed together. You should be uncomfortable with this but you're not. "You understand? Right? You know what you were asking for when you asked me for help?" He asked, studying your reaction. He needed to see that you really understood what you were about to do. This was your time to repent. But he didn't find uncertainty in your eyes if not desire, you looked at him with pure desire.

"I know," you responded, trying to ignore the flutter of emotion you felt at the intensity of the prince's gaze. You should be against doing this after all your reputation would be ruined but deep down you always wanted to have even a little bit of Daemon.

In reality, there was always a tension between the two of you. More than once you two ended your fights in the yard more irritated than you were before you started because after so much friction, touching, and sweat you both wanted to do something else that you couldn't. You didn't want to be the other woman and Daemon for once wanted to make things right with you. He hoped that one day Viserys would annul his marriage to Rhea Royce to take you as his wife. That day never came but that didn't matter anymore.

"You will take me as your second wife" While you spoke your eyes couldn't help but stop a couple of times on his lips.

Daemon tilted his head a little and gently brushed aside a strand of hair to whisper in your ear "I'll do it. If you want that" you shivered as you suddenly felt his breath on your neck. It doesn't take long for you to feel his warm lips against your skin. You unconsciously stretched your neck, leaving him free to continue spreading more kisses. With each kiss, you felt your body warmer. You can't help but wonder how his lips will feel just as good on another part of your body. “People will talk about us,” he warned, snapping you out of your fantasy.

You knew what Daemon was referring to, not only would it be a scandal if the king's fiancée married another but also if that other is Daemon Targaryen, the king's brother, and an already married man. People who don't understand his family's customs won't think your marriage is legitimate, and if you were to have children with him people would probably think of them as bastards. Also, the court could compare your marriage to one of Maegor Targaryen's many marriages. The kingdom would talk a lot about you two, even your family's name and respect could be damaged by this. Your father might never want to speak to you again in your life and your mother would be disappointed in you. You had thought about all this at night before receiving the prince's response. And yet you were determined to go ahead with this.

“Are you worried that the court will call you Second Maegor? Because I'm sorry to inform you but they already call you that” you said, managing to make Daemon laugh a little. You smiled when you heard him but your smile was soon replaced by a gasp as you felt his teeth biting into your neck.

“A wife shouldn't make fun of her husband,” he said making you roll your eyes, knowing that he wasn't serious and just wanted to mess with you. “If you marry me, this will not be just a marriage in name.”

You weren't an idiot. It wasn't enough for you to just marry Daemon. Viserys might still want to annul the marriage if he saw that you were a virgin but if it was known that Daemon had already had you then the council would tell the king that he should take another wife.

You walked away from him. “Are you afraid of taking me as your wife? You keep walking around instead of ordering them to start preparing everything for the ceremony. “The prince could see the challenge in your eyes and he loved it.” I'm not a little girl, Daemon. I know what I'm getting into by marrying you."

And those words were enough for Daemon to finally join his lips with yours. There was nothing soft about his kiss, not like Harwin's. This kiss was hungry, you felt like he was devouring your mouth but you weren't far behind either, taking him by the neck, pulling him closer to you. It seemed as if neither of you two could get enough of the other. Finally giving free rein to the desire the both felt for a long time. You felt his hands trying to untie the back of your dress so you walked away from him with heavy breathing.

“Ah, ah, ah,” you hummed, now placing your hands on his chest, hoping to keep a little more distance. “You can't have me until we're married,” you declared, looking at him mischievously.

“You're so fucking annoying” Daemon complained and tried to kiss you again but you pulled your face away with a teasing smile. "Good. But then you won't leave the room until I'm done with you,” he warned you and he gave you a little squeeze on your waist before leaving, determined to prepare everything in the shortest possible time.

Daemon thinks he'll never get tired of this. See how you move on his cock, how focused you look with every jump you take in search of your pleasure, how you open your mouth and let those sinful sounds escape when you finally find your sweet spot, and above all the feeling of your cunt squeezing his cock.

Hearing Daemon's groan overwhelms you. It overwhelms you because, for the first time, you realize that you have power over him. It's too much to hear him say your name like you're a god while you're riding him. See how hungry he is for you, how he can't seem to get enough of you, how he can't go a minute without his mouth on you, without biting or sucking on your neck, without having his hands touching you. By now your body was covered in hickeys, marks, and bruises leaving the trace of your crime on display. You're sure that tomorrow when the maids came to help you dress they would be horrified to see the mark of Daemon's palms on your thighs after he held you for what seemed like hours while he devoured your cunt over and over again.

Your husband noticed that you were starting to get tired but you still didn't want to stop, not when you were already so close to cumming again but you were too proud to ask him for help.

“Let me take care of it,” he said, stopping to suck on one of your nipples.

He knows how stubborn you are so he didn't even give you a chance to refuse when he lifted you off his cock. You groan against his neck as he pushes you down onto his cock again. He begins to move you up and down as if you weighed nothing.

"Faster" you demanded with heavy breathing, feeling dissatisfied with the pace of his movements.

Daemon doesn't hesitate to follow your orders and makes you bounce faster. His grunts and moans do nothing but send heat to your core. You feel your legs tremble at the speed and depth of his thrusts. You want to have your share and leave your marks on your husband too but you can't focus as much time on biting or sucking on his neck when he's fucking you so good. You sob when you finally feel the knot in your stomach release and you cum on his cock.

Suddenly one of his hands leaves your waist and pulls your hair, stealing a gasp from you, making you stop hiding your face in his neck and thus trap your mouth again in a messy kiss.

"You take me so well," Daemon gasped against your lips, feeling your warm cunt not stop squeezing his cock.

The sound of skin slapping only increases the temperature of the room. Like the groans and gasps. Neither Daemon nor you were trying to be quiet, it was more like you were both competing to see who could make the other louder. You should be embarrassed and try to be quieter, that's what a good lady would do but you couldn't care less what people thought, not when you felt so good. And while you felt how Daemon filled your cunt with his seed a petty part of you couldn't help but think that you were hoping that this would reach Viserys' ears, that one of the servants would write to the king to inform him of the spectacle you and Daemon were putting on so that Viserys wouldn't want to have anything more to do with you.

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Taglist for all my House of the Dragon works

@chaotic-fangirl-blog @venus-flytrap3 @ajordan2020 @iloveallmyboys @sweethoneyblossom1 @fudge13 @crystal-faith @tita004 @ichanelvxgue @snowprincesa1 @joyouart @rosey1981 @alastorhazbin @papichulo120627 @apollonshootafar @jasminecosmic99 @diorchaiamet @partypoison00 @camy85 @fluffly @rebelliuna @bxdbxtxh15 @impartinghades @targaryenmoony @thegirlnextdoorssister @angeliod @snh96 @aleemendoza2425-blog @lizlovecraft @natashaobo @nyenye @savagemickey03  @watercolorskyy

For some reason tumblr won't let me tag them: @arabis-world @Snileykiddie08 @Bugheadskid @nzygftoji @lauufeysonnn @missusnora @sabi127 @cicaspair418 @tojigirl

If you want to be part of my taglist

hotd masterlist