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sourcherryandsprinkles · 6 months ago

Note

Aegon x niece! reader (Rhaenyra’s daughter) smut please! Aegon has always been in love with her and manages to convince Alicent and Viserys to let him marry her. The reader is just as in love and when they get married, thwir wedding night is full of love and passion and 🫦. Aegon hugging her tight while fucking her and reader whimpering and moaning in his ear 🤌🏽

I received so many requests these past days and got inspiration for a lot of them (14!!), so expect more very soon <3 I'm trying to include everything (smut, angst, action)

Warnings: 18+, smut, fingering, p + v, loss of virginity

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Standing in the Great Sept of Baelor, your eyes couldn’t stray from Aegon. Blood was dripping slowly from his bottom lip after being cut after being cut and smeared on his forehead. His frizzy hair had been tamed and the cold of his clothes made the blue of his eyes stand out.

A dagger was handed to you to cut your palm with. You hissed slightly, watching as blood seeped out. You held your hand away from your pretty dress, not wishing to dirty it with blood, then passed the dagger to Aegon who did the same. He clasped his hand with yours, your blood mingled together as a blood silk was wrapped over your joined hands.

Queen Alicent wanted Aegon to marry following the Faith of the Seven, but he insisted on Valyrian tradition as the bond by blood was unbreakable.

‘’Blood of two, joined as one. Ghostly flame and song of shadows. Two hearts as embers, forged in fourteen fires. A future promised in glass. The stars stand witness. The vow spoken through time or darkness and light,’’ the officiant said, reading from an old book.

Aegon could feel his heart racing. He couldn’t wait to call you his wife, to walk around court with your arm looped around his. And to no longer have a chaperon following you everywhere. It was so annoying. The only times you were able to be alone together was when you would elope on your dragons.

If your parents thought a chaperon would stop you from sharing kisses and letting your hands wander to places they should not be, they were mistaken.

The officiant finally allowed you to kiss, and every part of Aegon ached to shove his tongue into your mouth and kiss the life out of you in front of everyone. But he restrained himself, settling for a kiss that would be just enough to make your cheeks flush.

When the ceremony came to an end, everyone was bright back to the Keep. You rode a carriage with Aegon and your little brother, Joffrey, which you suspected was a scheme by your parents to make sure no sexual activities would happen in the carriage.

Aegon's hand was resting on your thigh, and he leaned in to whisper in your ear. ‘’This is so frustrating. They really did this on purpose, didn't they?’’

‘’It’s not entirely a bad thing. I wouldn’t want you to crease or stain my dress before the feast,’’ you said, smoothing the shimmery white fabric of your dress as you fawned over the gold embroideries. You had never seen a more beautiful gown.

Aegon smiled smugly, thinking back to your last dragon ride together and the kisses you shared in the clearing…and his hand that slipped into your riding pants. ‘’Little does these fools know, we’ve played them before.’’ Smirking, he leaned in again. ‘’You know what kind of effect you have on me, wearing that dress. Especially knowing what's underneath.’’ He gave your thigh a little squeeze, his hand starting to move upwards just for a moment.

You quickly covered his hand with your own, stopping him. ‘’Stop it. Not here.’’

You looked over and saw Joffrey sitting on the opposite seat. Luckily, the boy was too preoccupied staring out the window to notice anything.

A sigh left your husband’s lips. ‘’I don’t want to wait until tonight. I won’t be able to.’’

Thankfully, the journey to the Red Keep was short. The doors to the carriage were opened and Aegon stepped out first, then offered his hand to help you out. He took a moment to let his eyes roam over your body, his gaze hungry. Before he could say anything, you pulled him towards the castle and to the throne room where the festivities would be held. Inside, the room was decked out with gold drapes and beautiful flowers — nothing less for a royal wedding.

The music began as you and Aegon made your first entrance together, your arm linked to his. He had promised to not let you fall in front of the lord and ladies. The guests cheered as you both made your way down the grand aisle, to the large table where your families stood, waiting for you to begin the feast.

As the night went on, you danced and ate cake and indulged in more wine that you would allow yourself to help with the nerves later. You were dancing with Helaena and laughing when you felt an arm snake around your waist and wet lips on your neck.

You leaned into Aegon’s chest and Helaena took this as her cue to find another dance partner.

‘’Do you think they will notice if we leave the festivities early?’’ he whispered in your ear, having enough of this feast and wanting to be alone with you.

You glanced around, searching for your parents. They seemed all involved in conversations with other lords and ladies, but one last pair of eyes was on you: Otto Hightower. Since he caught you kissing in an alcove when you were five and ten, he had been following you and Aegon like a hawk, disproving of your courtship.

‘’If you can find a way to escape your grandsire, I’ll follow you,’’ you replied.

Aegon’s laughter mixed with yours as you were running to Megor’s Holdfast where the royal chambers were. It felt like all the times you slipped away from court together to avoid being caught.

As soon as the door of Aegon’s chambers closed, his lips were on yours and his hands were all over you, grabbing and pulling with a hunger that made your pulse race. The urgency in his movements left you breathless, your body responding instinctively to his touch.

Clothes were taken off in haste, allowing your lips to kiss more skin. You threw your head back and moaned softly, nails sinking into Aegon's milky skin as he kissed down your neck and to your bared breasts, giving them the attention he's dreamed of.

‘’Aegon, please,’’ you whimpered, feeling his erect cock prod at your lower stomach.

He pressed a last kiss to your nipple and nodded, walking you back to his bed. You crawled up to the pillows, making yourself comfortable. Aegon joined you, hovering over you, and studying your flushed face for a moment, before he bent down to kiss your lips again.

You were thankful that your mother had opposed the humiliation of a bedding ceremony. You would never have been able to relax under the eyes of men standing around the bed, waiting for blood to mark the sheets.

While you were distracted by his kiss, Aegon moved a hand between your bodies to play with your cunt a little, helping you relax and prepare you for his cock. His girth was larger than the fingers he’s inserted before and he didn’t want to hurt you.

It would be a lie to say you didn't feel anything when he slid into you. The pain was unlike anything you felt before. Seeing the tears prick in your eyes and your pained face, Aegon was quick to sooth you with sweet words until the pain subsided.

His first thrusts were slow and overwhelming. It was a kind of pleasure you never experienced before.

‘’I love you, Aegon,’’ you said, seeing stars when he reached a particular spot.

He kissed you sweetly. ‘’I love you.’’

You hugged him tight while he moved his hips, his ears blessed by your whimpers and moans.

A chill blew from the windows, refreshing the warm air after your entercourse. You shivered, clinging to Aegon under the sheets. He closed his eyes, ready for a night of sleep, when your voice stirred him.

‘’Can we do it again?’’ you asked in a whisper, your head resting on his chest while bathing in the afterglow.

Aegon grinned at the ceiling, thanking the gods for giving him a wife that was just as horny as him.

—

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#aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii x reader #aegon the second #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #hotd

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sluttysnowangel666 · 6 months ago

Text

The Woman Beyond the Wall

Cregan Stark x Wilding!Fem reader

Summary: Cregan must go beyond the wall to aid Castle Black after a large group of Nights Watch men are killed under strange circumstances, only for him to discover the “strange circumstance” is a beautiful and mysterious wilding woman that will make him forget everything he thought he knew.

not proof read yet!!

cw: angst, smut, dom fem reader, dom cregan, freaky cregan, reader is kind of odd 😭

word count: long af

part 2 , masterlist

⛫ ⛫ ⛫

Cregan sat, contemplating the decision before him.

“Forgive me, sirs. The kingdom greatly appreciates the sacrifice you men have made to serve the Nights Watch, but I cannot abandon my duties as a lord to go beyond the wall for Gods knows how long.” He tells them, hoping they won’t take offense to his declination to participate.

“We wouldn’t ask if we were not desperate, my lord.” The maester says, “But 15 men have disappeared just in this past exhibition. The Nights Watch grows scarce of fighters the more men beyond the wall continue to disappear.”

Cregan sighs, not wanting to go beyond the wall and leave his kingdom without a lord, but also not wanting to leave the Watch vulnerable.

“Alright, Maester Devron.” Cregan sighs, “We owe you men a great debt… I need to know what are these strange circumstances you speak of?”

“Men have reported finding the abandoned bodies with arrows in both their eyes, perfectly positioned every time. It’s rather… unusual how perfectly calculated the shot is. It never changes. Then, the bodies are positioned in circles, with no footsteps left behind. We fear it to be witching.”

A shiver ran up Cregan’s spine, but he hid it well. Witches were almost always stories told by Septs to children in an attempt to get them to behave, so to hear a maester say it was unnerving.

“Don’t be ridiculous, maester.”

“I am not jesting, my lord. When you find the group of men who disappeared only a fortnight ago, you’ll see.”

“When? Not if? How can you be so sure I’ll find them?” Cregan asks.

“She leaves them in the same place every time. About 20 miles beyond the wall, facing north.” The maester says.

Cregan sighs, already frustrated with the venture, and eager to kill a wildling.

———

3 days later, 15 miles beyond the wall, and alone in the blistering cold, Cregan couldn’t help but contemplate his decision. Although he was miserable, he knew it was the honorable thing to do. He wouldn’t have done it, if otherwise.

His horse stopped suddenly, its hair raising and body becoming stiff.

“Dusk.” He said her name. “Move.”

His horse ignored him, standing her ground. “Dusk!” He yelled at her.

She sensed something, but he didn’t know what.

They sat there for what felt like hours, but what was merely seconds.

Finally, the horse began to tredge forward… very, very, slowly. Cregan groaned in frustration, his hands gripping the reins.

They walked like that for miles. No matter how much Cregan tugged the reins, Dusk maintained her slow pace, as if anticipating something was nearby, ready to pounce on them at any given moment.

Night eventually came, and Cregan was forced to set up camp.

“Bloody horse.” He mumbled to himself as he tied her to a nearby tree.

He set up a fire nearby Dusk, then leaned against the tree she was tied to. He fidgeted with the dagger he kept in his armor, carving little dire wolves in the bark. He spoke to Dusk, hoping the already timid horse would comfort his feeling of isolation in the barren icy landscape. It didn’t help.

He eventually fell asleep standing up, leaning his weight against the tree, too on edge to leave himself vulnerable on the ground.

The fire near him had gone out, leaving nothing but the red glowing embers.

The wildling who had been following them for miles used this to her advantage.

She stalked quietly, her boots making no noise or crunch as if she weren’t even there, floating like a ghost.

She made no attempt to immediately kill him, but kept her bow poised, ready to grab an arrow and fly it into his eye if he woke. Normally, any crow out here would’ve been dead miles ago, but this man wasn’t a crow.

She believed him to be a lord, and when her fingers grazed the dire wolf on his chest she knew him to be a Stark. Excitement fueled the fire burning in her veins. She had never seen a lord, especially one so handsome.

Her fingers twirled one of his brown locks, but when he shuffled in his sleep she quickly backed away like a scared bunny.

She decided she would let the cold kill the handsome man, but not before taking a souvenir to remember him.

Her slim, dainty fingers wove into his furs, silently snagging the dagger strapped to his chest. She twirled it in her fingers, admiring the craftsmanship. No smith she had ever met was as talented as the one who made this dagger. She traced the wolf sigil on the handle, then ran the sharp tip of the blade along her finger. A drop of blood hit the snow in front of their feet, and then she ran, snow immediately falling to cover her tracks.

When Cregan awoke, he immediately knew someone had been in the camp. But, how? How could someone have even passed through without him waking?

He looked down, and picked up the snow with the drop of blood on it. His blood immediately ran cold, colder than it already was. There were no footprints. Where could this have even come from?

He checked himself, but was free of any cuts. It was here he noticed… his dagger.

“What in Gods…” He mumbled, feeling all around his body to make sure he hadn’t misplaced it.

He angrily yells into the trees, cursing and violently threatening the woman who stole his dagger, hoping she heard him.

And she does. She quietly giggles in a nearby tree at his brutish behavior. He kicks the burnt wood from the fire, startling his horse.

He mounts the horse, slowly trekking onward to find the bodies of the missing men.

Within the hour, he finds himself at the base of the men’s camp, their bodies positioned like how the maester said they would be.

Cregan sighs, dismounting his horse and staring at the corpses, their bodies frozen and not yet decomposed from the harsh cold.

He was, for the first time in his life, unsure of what to do. He knew the woman had already found him, but how was he to find her? He assumed she left him alive out of mercy, but he knew there was no chance of finding her unless she wanted him to.

“Fuck.” He mumbled, slightly embarrassed at his desperation. “Alright, witch! I know you’re out there!” He yelled into the trees, not actually knowing if she was out there.

She was, and she paid attention as he continued.

“I don’t know your goal, if you even have one!” He paused, not even knowing what else to say. “Stop killing these men!” He said, lacking in confidence. She giggled again. Quite an entertaining man he was.

He gave up, tired of feeling foolish. He began dragging the bodies into a pile, preparing to burn them. It took nearly half of his day, and when he was done he finally sat, sweating, despite the cold.

After his brief rest, he burnt them, saying the custom words, “And now their watch is ended.”

He watched, silently mourning the fallen men who gave their life.

Afterwards, he mounted his horse and started his journey back to the wall. There would be no finding the woman. She was rogue, didn’t run in a pack. He’d be searching for the rest of his life if he stayed.

He didn’t make it far, only a few miles before night fell upon him and his horse. He didn’t want to rest, but he had no choice. The day had worn him, and traveling at night was unwise when he couldn’t see his surroundings.

He set a fire again, and sat down, forcing himself to stay awake.

Suddenly, his horse whined. He whipped his head around, standing to his feet quickly.

“Whoa, whoa. Calm down.” He said, trying to shush the mare. The horse bucked, breaking its reins from the tree before scurrying off.

“Fuck!” Cregan cursed, angrily. What in Gods names was he to do now?

A voice rang out behind him.

“Pretty little beast you’ve got there.”

He whipped around again, unsheathing his sword.

A woman knelt across the fire, her bow and arrow already drawn. She wore gray, thick pelts and gloves, and a pair of fur clad boots. No wonder she was so silent. She pulled her thick hood off, revealing the most beautiful set of eyes Cregan had ever seen. The woman was gorgeous, ethereal. She literally took his breath away.

“Suppose I should say had there.” She teases.

“It’s you.” He finally says, after a moment of silence.

“Mm.” She hums in response. “And who might you be?”

“I think you already know, given you raided my camp last night.”

She laughs. “Raided? You southerners.”

“You’d do well to mind your tongue, witch.” Cregan spits at her, tightening his grip on his sword.

She notices and stands, raising her bow, “And you’d do well to mind yours, crow.”

“I’m not a crow.”

“And I’m not a witch.” She pauses, tilting her head. “Sharp little tongue on you. Ain’t you lords supposed to treat ladies with respect?”

“What kind of lady are you? Killing good men and desecrating their bodies?”

“I never desecrated them. In fact, I left them better than I found them.”

“Those were noble men.”

“Please.” She laughs. “Those crows were rapists and thieves. The north is better without them coming into our land.”

Cregan says nothing, so she continues. “I suggest you watch how you speak to me, Lord Stark. I could shoot this arrow right through those pretty gray eyes before you’d even realize what happened.”

“Try it, witch.”

“I already told you. I’m no witch!” She lets the arrow fly, only intending to let it kiss his ear and hit the tree behind him, but he raises his sword, and the arrow shatters against the Valyrian steel.

She lowers her bow, shocked, before her features return to their stoic form.

“It appears I’ve met my match.” She smirks, impressed.

“Perhaps you have. For that reason, I’d suggest returning my dagger.”

She pulls it out. “Oh, this pretty thing? I think I’ll keep it… Unless you’re brave enough to come take it from me.”

Heat flushed through his stomach. For the first time in his life, a woman repeatedly left him at a loss for words. He did not know how to approach her, or how to respond.

“You obviously walk these woods often. How do I get back to the wall?”

“Simple.” She smiles, “South.”

Cregan stomps towards her. She nervously laughs, backing into a tree as he presses himself against her, his height towering above her own.

“Show me the way or I’ll put your pretty little head above my mantel.”

She breathlessly chuckles, “All you have to do is ask nicely, Stark.” She places her hand on his broad chest, giving it a light push yet keeping her hands entangled in his armor straps. He grabs her wrist, pulling it from him. He removes her quiver from her back, tossing it on the ground. He takes her bow from her other hand, going to give it the same treatment before she stops him.

“No, wait, please don’t leave my bow.” She asks, genuineness in her voice for the first time. He searches her eyes, but finds no answer there.

“You won’t need it where you’re going.” He responds.

“Leave my bow and you’ll die in these woods. And trust me, southerner, you’ll die long before I do.” He looks at the darkness that clouds her eyes, then grunts and puts the large bow around his body.

She smirks as he ties her wrists together, dragging her along behind him. “We’re going now? These woods aren’t safe at night.”

“The sooner you’re no longer my problem, the better.”

She stops in her place, but he gives her a yank that pulls her to the ground, dragging her body behind him. “I’m serious! We need to stay at your sad little camp.”

“One more word out of you and I’ll cut out your tongue.” He says. He takes a few more steps, still dragging her, before stopping. He knows she’s right, but refuses to admit it. He growls in frustration, turning back towards the camp.

She laughs, still being dragged on the ground. What a strange woman. He thinks to himself.

He sits back in front of the fire, still holding the rope attached to her wrist as she crawls towards him.

“Do you have any food?” She asks. He sighs, taking out a little sack of dried meat. He holds a piece out to her, and not moving from her knees, takes it from his hand with her mouth.

“You’re bloody off.” He mumbles to himself. She laughs, a strange and wicked laugh in an attempt to scare him, as well as mock him for thinking she was a witch.

It works, as it startles him into giving her a confused look. He picks up a big pile of snow, throwing it into the fire to put it out.

He lays down on the snow, crossing his arms and closing his eyes. She crawls towards him, opening his arms and lying against his chest.

“Get off me, woman.” He says, pushing her.

“I’m cold! You’re telling me an honorable Stark is going to let a woman freeze to death?”

“Witches don’t get cold. Your blood runs with fire.”

“You southerners and your silly little-“ He pulls her into him, wrapping his big arms around her. He hates to admit it, but her warmth comforted him from the cold.

“I’ll keep you warm if you shut up.”

She listens for once, saying nothing and nuzzling her head into his chest. He sighs, not having the strength to push her away… but not really wanting to either.

Her knee forces his legs apart to push her leg between his, slowly lifting it towards his crotch. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing?” She says, playing dumb. He doesn’t respond. She wiggles her knee more, rubbing her thigh against the leather covering his manhood.

“Stop. Moving.” He says.

“Was I? Sorry, didn’t notice.”

He shifts, trying to keep her from noticing the bulge growing in his leathers.

———

Cregan awakes before her. He stares down at the woman against his chest, her cheeks are tinted from the cold, and her lips are parted slightly. He admires her for a long time before she stirs. He pushes her away, thinking she’s awake.

“Ow.” She grumbles, sleepily. “Why’d you do that?”

“We need to get moving.” He stands, brushing the snow off him.

“Can’t we just lay a bit longer? I didn’t sleep well with you poking me with that thing all night.” She says, running her hand up his knee.

“I wasn’t.” He responds quickly, pushing her hand down. She stands, stretching as best as she can with her hands tied.

They begin walking for a few miles, with her trying to make conversation with him.

“You’re a rather quiet man.” She says, when her previous questions get no response.

“I just don’t have many words for a woman like you.”

“I leave you speechless?” She says, with a smirk.

“Try annoyed.” He responds flatly.

She steps close to him, pressing her chest into his back.

“What are you-“ Before he can realize what she’s doing, she cuts the rope on her wrists on his sword.

He whips around, prepared to knock her unconscious, but she’s too quick. She ducks, kicking his ankle and sweeping him down.

He hits the ground hard, but is back on his feet almost instantly. She runs, fast, beyond him.

He chases after her.

“Witch!” He yells, turning to look for her in every direction after she seemingly vanished.

“I told you I’m not a witch.” She says, stepping from behind a tree.

He stomps towards her, grabbing her by both of her arms, itching to give her a good smack across the face.

He looks down at her, that sly little smirk on her face, her cheeks red and flush, staring back up at him through her wet eyelashes.

She moves her arms from his grip, tracing her skinny fingers up his armor.

“You’re…” He whispers, starting to lose his strength. “Unlike any woman I’ve ever met.”

She grabs him by his neck, and he gasps in shock, but it’s quickly cut off as she pulls him down to meet her lips. Her kiss is harsh and fierce. Cregan had known women, but never one so blatantly unapologetic to be herself. She growls like an animal, ripping to get off his furs and leathers.

He matches her intensity, kissing her with the same energy. He lets the anger she ignited in him release itself unto her by biting and kissing her neck. She tugs at his hair, grinding her hips into his.

“Are you a virgin?” He asks.

“Don’t be stupid.” She responds, taking a step back to remove her own furs. He steps back towards her, pulling them off her himself.

“I only ask for your comfort.” He growls, frustrated with her attitude.

“Comfort? This isn’t the south.” She pushes him back, standing before him naked and unashamed. He breathes in the sight before him, his length growing at her beauty.

She practically pounces on him, pushing him to the snow before he’s even fully undressed.

“You are a fucking witch.” He moans, as she crawls her way up his body to rest her wetness above his face.

“Are you hungry, wolf?” She asks him.

“Starving.” He whines, wanting to taste her.

Her grip on his hair pulls him towards her, finally bringing his mouth to taste her sweet cunt. He can’t help but look at her as he eats her. Her nose and cheeks are so red from the cold, all he wants to do is warm her up. His large arms have a hold on her thighs, his fingers resting between them. She pulls off his gloves, letting his fingers grip into her warm legs.

She moans and whines in ecstasy. The sound turns him into a wreck, clawing and gripping at her thighs to the point he draws blood. She doesn’t even care, relishing the sweet pain.

She pulls and tugs on his hair so harshly, forcing his face so deep into her cunt. If he even thought of stopping, she’d kill him herself. She grinds her hips into his tongue, crying and whining into the cold air. It seems as if everything has gone silent, even the winds, the world around them stopping to hear her sweet ecstasy. He moans her name into her cunt every time she pulls his hair, wanting to be her release. He’s desperate to taste her release, she’s desperate to give it to him.

Cregan, the man he was, never having been with a woman so lust driven, couldn’t help but urge his own desires to see her writhe in his arms. One of his hands left her bloody thigh, grabbing a cold chunk of snow to rub against her warm cunt. She gasped at the feeling, whining from the cold. He rubbed his fingers against her sweet spot. Her nails dug into the arm still on her leg, moaning his name as she finally let herself go onto his tongue.

He swallowed every drop, only wanting to taste her sweetness for the rest of his life.

When she came down, he shoved her off him, mounting her and positioning himself between her legs.

Her body was growing red from touching the bitter snow, but it seems like she hadn’t even noticed.

Cregan wrapped his hands around her throat, leaning in and giving her a deep kiss. “I could kill you right now if I wanted, get this whole mess you’ve caused for me over with.” He whispered into her lips.

“You won’t.” She whispered back. “Not before you get to even fuck my sweet cunt.” She reaches her cold hand down, snaking it into his breeches and rubbing his length.

“You’re right.” He kisses her again. “I want all of you.” She unlaces his breeches, pushing it down along with his soft clothes.

She glides him along her wet entrance, and Cregan groans. He pushes himself into her, eliciting a sweet gasp from her lips. He gives her no time to adjust, immediately thrusting his hips back and forth.

She moans, tears brimming her eyes, having never been fucked by a man so large as Cregan.

“What? Why are you crying? Never been fucked like how you deserve?” He growls. She does nothing but nod.

“Nothing?” He asks. “Have I finally shut you up?” He fucks her harder, and she pulls on his brown curls, using her other hand to scratch all along his back. Cregan loved the thought of it, coming home with battle scars from her. He kisses her jaw, licking her salty tears.

He stands and picks her up, worried about the cold getting to her skin. He pins her to a tree, her back scraping against the bark. It hurts in such a sweet way, better than the cold snow. She cries out his name so loud as he fucks her against it. His hands roam her body, wanting to feel all of her but also wanting to warm her up.

“Tell me it true, Cregan.” She moans, her naughty attitude returning with a smirk. “Are you going to kill me?”

She knows his answer before he even does. He growls as a response, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of knowing that sweet cunt bested the Lord of Winterfell.

“I hate you.” He growls, fucking her even harder so she shuts up. “You killed innocent men.”

She laughs and moans at the same time, “I killed crows, My Lord.” He moans at ‘My Lord’ “I’d never… fuck… harm an innocent man. That’s why you’re here now, fucking my dripping cunt.”

He wraps one of his hands around her throat, the other holding her up, his thrusts growing sloppy as he nears his peak. “Fucking witch.”

To his surprise, her hand finds his throat too, but he loves it. He loves her aggressiveness. She matches him, she’s practically a savage wolf herself.

He wants to pull out, knows he should pull out, but he can’t find the strength. All he can focus on is the wetness surrounding his length. His hands grip her waist in such a harsh way it’s bound to bruise, and he relishes in the thought of marking her so those other wildlings knew she was his now. He had claimed her, and any other man who dared try to touch her would meet the Gods.

He grabs her and pushes her back into the snow, falling on her hands and knees. His hand takes a grip in her hair, pulling her head back toward him and forcing her to arch her back. He fucks her in such a shameful way. If any lady in Winterfell were fucked like this, she’d nearly be a whore. But she was not a lady, so he felt no guilt fucking her how she deserved, and how she eagerly wanted. Her hips bucked into him, matching his rhythm.

She cried such sweet moans at the pleasure, finding her peak so close. Her fingers spread into the snow, shaking, and she released onto him again, and he growled, fucking into her until he found his own peak.

His spilled into her so deep it touched her womb. She rested her face in the snow, panting. He pushed her off of his length, her body falling into the cold. Cregan stood, out of breath, staring down at the woman in the snow, her body curled into a fetal position as she laid there catching her breath. He was hooked. Obsessed with her beauty and madness, even as she laid there sweaty and cold.

He grabbed his furs and sat beside her, pulling her into his lap and wrapping the warm furs around her.

“You might catch a chill.” He whispered, slightly worried now that their lust had subsided.

“I’m a witch, right? My blood runs with fire.” She breathed. He laughed softly.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve ever seen you smile, Lord Stark.” She smiled, a soft and sweet smile. His heart nearly melted.

After dressing, they began walking again.

“Can we make a quick stop?” She asked, not letting him answer before she ran towards a cave in the not far off distance.

He sighs, not making an effort to chase her.

He walks into the dimly lit cave. It appeared lived in. He eyed the area, while pulling at his collar, due to the heat in the cave.

“Is this where you live?” He asked, his voice echoed back to him, making him feel alone.

She nodded, undressing herself again. “It’s a hot spring.”

She jumped into the water, moaning at the warmth. He twitched.

“You gonna just stand there lookin’ pretty?” She asked, her thick northern accent appearing. He sighed, slowly taking off his furs and armor before stepping into the hot water. She spit some of the water at him with a little smirk. He tried to hide his smile, but couldn’t. He grabbed her arm, pulling her towards him and into his lap. She curled her legs up and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Let’s stay here.” She said, voice unsure. “You’re a wolf. You belong out here, not in the south.”

He took her hand in his. “My place is in Winterfell.”

“Then stay with me just for tonight.” She said. He sighed, pressing a soft kiss to her hand and nodding. She rested her wet head against his chest.

“I won’t cause any more trouble for you, Lord Stark.”

He sighed, knowing what it meant.

He yearned to bring her back to Winterfell, to give her a place in the castle, and to take her in his bed at night, but she was too wild. She would cause too much trouble for the servants and handmaidens. She would never be happy either.

He made it count, fucking her over and over again in that cave. When they slept, he held her close to him, refusing to even let her roll over. Her head fit perfectly against his neck. It felt like a crime to let her go.

———

They had been walking for three days to return to the wall, only growing closer and closer with each moment they spent together.

“I thought you said it was a day’s journey.” Cregan said.

“On horse.” He shot her a look, frustrated with the forgotten mention. She only smirked. He didn’t want to part from her just yet anyway.

“Lord Stark!” A voice yelled. He quickly pushed her behind him, unsheathing his sword and searching for where the voice came from. He was terrified for her, but she showed no fear. He knew if they seen her, they would kill her immediately.

4 men in black, all on horses trotted up besides them, encircling them.

“Gods, I can’t believe it.” The Lord Commander said, “You Starks, damn it. You put the rest of the North to shame. I can’t believe you found the witch.”

“I’m not a witch.” She said, but Cregan only grabbed her and wrapped his hand around her mouth, preventing her from starting a fight. She kicked and growled into his hand, but eventually submitted.

“Why is she still alive, m’lord? You should have taken her head the moment you found her.” A boy said.

“It’s not that easy. She’s strong, more useful alive.” Cregan said.

She kicked her foot back into his shin, stealing his sword from his hand. Cregan yelled and grabbed his leg. He grabbed her arm with his other hand with a harsh grip. Her elbow met his face, knocking him on the ground as blood pooled from his nose.

“Took you long enough to find your own way back here, crow.” She said, looking at the Lord Commander specifically, the heavy valyrian steel sword dragging from her hands onto the ground.

He only snickered at her.

“Don’t hurt yourself trying to lift that sword. I’d rather watch Stark behead you himself.”

“Can’t do your own dirty work?” She sneers.

Cregan sensed the tension but said nothing. He stood and grabbed her by the back of her neck, pulling her back and taking his sword from her. He stared her down, breathing angrily, his eyes fuming with rage. He wanted to take her on the snow again as revenge for breaking his nose, but restrained himself.

She looked back up at him, anger in her own eyes, his hand lingered on the back of her neck.

Cregan turned back around to face the Lord Commander. “I will not behead her. She is a prisoner of Winterfell.”

The Lord Commander fumed. “She’s killed half our men-“

“You killed half your men when you sent them searching for me.” She spits.

“Enough!” Cregan yelled, but she ignored him. She broke from his grip and ran at the Lord Commander. The horses spooked, bucking the other men off them and scattering.

She jumped, using the stirs of the saddle of his horse to mount it. She pulled out the dagger she stole from Cregan earlier, and slit the Lord Commander’s neck.

Hot blood spewed onto her face as he weakly grabbed at her throat. She smiled, that wicked smile again, licking the blood that spat across her face, her eyes wide with madness.

“Goodnight, crow.” She whispered.

Cregan ripped her off the horse, throwing her onto the ground.

“Do you understand what you have just done?!” He screamed at her. She smiled up at him, blood staining her teeth. She kissed him, the blood on their faces smearing. He briefly matched her love with the kiss, before pulling away.

He tried snatching the dagger back from her, “No, it’s mine!” She yelled.

He pulled her by her collar close to his face, “You have to go now… or I’ll kill you.”

Sadness swept across her face, her lip trembling like a scorned child.

“Keep your fucking dagger, then!” She yelled, stabbing it into his shoulder.

Cregan cried out, letting her go, and falling to the ground. He ripped the dagger from his shoulder. She used this as an opportunity to take her bow back from his body.

She reached into her boot, pulling out an arrow. She knocked it and drew it back. Cregan weakly jumped on the Lord Commander’s horse. The other Night’s Watch men were returning on their horses, having calmed and gathered them.

“Back to the wall!” Cregan commanded them. He didn’t turn to look at her. He knew if he had, she would’ve shot the arrow right through his eye. Instead, she hit him in his rib, perfectly hitting where it would hurt, but wouldn’t kill him. Cregan yelled in pain again.

The men rode off, not stopping until they made it to the wall. Cregan passed out multiple times on the way, visions of her flooding his thoughts as the men had to drag him to the maester.

She stayed in the same place for hours, sobbing and sobbing, as the icy cold froze her tears. Only when night fell then did she turn and leave, knowing she would never see the Lord again.

#hotd cregan #cregan x reader #cregan stark #cregan fanfiction #cregan x you #cregan smut #cregan x y/n #hotd #hotd season 2 #team black #house stark #winter is coming #hotd x reader #hotd imagine #hotd smut #hotd fanfic

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sonic-fankid-showdown · 9 months ago

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The Sonic Fankid Showdown: Round 1!

These are the match ups for the first round of the tournament! The polls will go up this Wednesday, April 24th and will be active until May 1st for you all to vote for your favorite fankids!

Image transcript under the cut.

Blair Acorn Rose (@icednebula) v/s Comet the Hedgehog (@sonicanon)

Gina (@meetje-rotyourbrainhere) v/s Cipher (@altairsarts)

Comet the Hedgehog (@sonic-polis) v/s Sunny the Chao (@wereh0gz)

Wafer the Chao (@pokeypoqi) v/s Leonid the Cyborg Hedgehog (@deimostes)

Sakura (@estellardreams) v/s Leo the Hedgehog (@aexonn)

Nova Rose (@spicychimera) v/s Blur the Hedgehog (@muffin-gods)

Spike the Hedgehog (@valerytheweirdo) v/s Spark the Sable (@sci-twi)

Flicker Prower (@burning-stars98) v/s Scrap the Hedgehog (@the-gay-ghost-king)

Fletcher the Fox (@susahnasomething) v/s Amelia Solaral (@lethalbreadkills)

Violet the Hedgehog (@t4tsurge) v/s Horizon the Jackal (@scorpiolight-madd)

Mordred (@mephiles-the-jester) v/s Lapis (@time-of-your-life-au)

Stellar the Hedgehog (@emthimofnight) v/s Rapidfire-Harley Davidson (@confused-bagel)

Nymph the Cat (@einelitas) v/s Sasha the Hedgehog (@sapphanimates)

Star (@sonicgetsrawed) v/s Punchline (@iihavenomouth)

Pegasus (@transzsonix) v/s Chroma Prower (@m3tr0n0m333)

Saydee (@kuroshirae) v/s Echo (@a-crow-with-a-pen)

Neso the Hedgehog (@foolnamedjoey) v/s Aryan (@totaleclipse573)

Dill Picke (@sonilver-yuri) v/s Smith (@koreyeet)

Winter the Lemur (@sonicrewrittenau) v/s Alice (@invisableartist)

Whistle the Wolf (@khalewren) v/s Calamity (@alex-chullin)

Splotch the Hedgehog (@thefakehedgehogaroundhere) v/s Tom the Hedgehog (@ShadowAndSonic96)

Twitch the Child (@colorfulplasma) v/s Mav the Hedgehog (@val-va2)

Vallerie the Hedgehog (@so-called-egg) v/s Aurora (@adhd-sonic-the-hedgehog)

Ebony (@idrptr3) v/s Castor Niclaw (@spiritofrainbursts

Emmie the Hedgehog (@head---ache) v/s Silhouette Rose (@galacticghoste)

Tulip (@silvers-starrway) v/s Sunshine the Hedgehog (@yellowvixen)

Pacífica the Cat (@saku0115) v/s Midnight the Android (@kristhesheep)

Aster (@afuntimepartyy) v/s Beau D'Coolette (@mischeva)

Blitz (@jestopolis) v/s Juice the Hedgehog (@sonlc)

Jade the Hybrid (@carnation-damnation) v/s Autumn (@artist-fan146)

Kaiko (@somemismatchedsocks) v/s Gigi (@w0lp3rtinger)

Ember Robotnik (@the-sky-queen) v/s Sprout "Sept" the Jackal (@snowpearart)

See you on wednesday, everyone! And good luck!

#sonic fanchild #sonic fankid #sonic oc #sonic fankid showdown #also!!! sorry there were some people it wouldnt let me tag properly #please let me know if i misspelled your url or something so i can fix it

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themotherofhorses · 2 years ago

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Does handmain!reader braid Aemond's hair? Does Aemond know how to braid his children's hair? PLS THE FLUFFFF

pairing: aemond targaryen x handmaid!reader

notes: DAD!AEMOND DAD!AEMOND DAD!AEMOND

his handmaid's tales | main masterlist

Three hours after sundown, his mother arrives at his doorway, carrying a reading lamp and two books of faith. “Would you like to sit and pray with me tonight, Aemond?” Alicent asks, but her voice soon trails off when she notices the hairbrush clutched in his hand and the twins at his knees. Both boys toy around with their tiny wooden stick swords, offering their grandmother two toothy little smiles.

“Oh, I see that you’re quite busy tonight…” she then adds, in a tone faint with teasing.

Aemond nods where he sits, gently combing out any tangles and snags in his son’s silver-pale hair. “Their mother easily puts me to shame, as she does with most things…” he mumbles, glancing sidelong at his other son, whose own shines like moonglow in a loose braid, “-but I do believe I’ve done a rather fine job with my boys.”

Alicent hums. “Where might she be tonight? Did you dismiss her?”

Aemond gestures to his bed, where his handmaid lays fast asleep, cuddling around a pillow. As she slept, she had kicked off the blanket and sheets, and the pretty curve of her swollen belly limned in the soft glow from the hearth.

“The babe’s been stealing away most of her energy these past few days,” he tells Alicent, shaking his head. His fingers part the hair into three splits before looping the first over the second and tugging the third into the middle. “The maesters say the name day is nearing, perhaps in another fortnight.”

He refused any looks at his girl; otherwise, he’d drink in the lovely sight a bit too much like a drunken fool, and he’d prefer his mother not bearing witness to such.

Yet Alicent studies the sleeping handmaid, a shadow of a smile flickering across her lips. This time around, she had grown great with a girl, according to the maesters and midwives alike, as well as Aemond himself. He had pined so much for a daughter of his own, frequenting the sept alongside her, to sink onto his knees and pray to the Mother for a baby girl, one blessed with her mother’s features.

She hopes her son receives his daughter. He deserves it that much.

“Would you like for me to tuck in the boys for the night?”

Aemond smiles. “Ah, if it would be no bother to you, mother. I’d appreciate it…I don’t wish to leave her, not when she’s like this…” but Alicent waves him away, kneeling before the boys. “I’ll have them choose a bedtime story, and they can tell me all about their day.” So he kisses his sons on the nose and forehead before whispering a fond goodnight, sending them away with their grandmother.

And as they leave, hand in hand with Alicent, their little braids bounce with every step. The sight gives him nothing but joy and pride.

The fire in the hearth was quickly burning down to embers, and he hadn’t intended to disturb his resting girl, but he couldn’t stop himself from climbing over her. Sweeter than lemon cakes and more beautiful than all the seasons. He rubs at her bump, where hopefully his daughter sleeps too, and kisses her bare shoulder- then her cheeks and lips- and kisses her again when she murmurs in her sleep.

“You’re all I’ll ever need and more,” he breathes, nestling his head against her breast. I love you. I love you. I love you.

At that, her eyes open, and she smiles, stroking his hair. “Tomorrow, I shall braid it,” she whispers.

But Aemond snatches her hand and lifts it to his lips. “No. I’ll braid your hair, my sweet girl,” he promises, kissing each of her fingers, nipping at the skin, “I need the practice anyways.”

tag list for "his handmaid's tales": @aemondsblog @dc-marvel-girl96 @neobanguniverse @missalycat21 @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan @padfooteyes @alexizodd @avidreader73 @the-common-cowgirl @inlovewithhisblueeyes

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond drabble #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #handmaid!reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #hotd fanfic #vic writes 🧸

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pupsmailbox · 3 months ago

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AUTUMN ID PACK

NAMES︰ acer. acorn. acre. amber. apple. archer. arden. ash. asher. aspen. aster. auburn. august. augusta. augustus. autumn. autumna. autumnal. autumnelle. autumnessa. autumnette. autumni. autumnine. autumnus. bean. birch. blaire. bonfire. bramble. branch. briar. carmel. casper. cassia. cassiah. cedar. cerridwen. chai. chestnut. cider. cinna. clara. cocoa. cora. corn. cornucopia. cozy. crimson. crisp. crow. ellis. ember. equinox. eve. fall. fallelle. fallen. fallette. falline. fallon. faye. finn. flannel. foggy. forest. forrest. ginger. glenna. goldie. halloween. harper. harvest. harveste. harvester. hawk. hay. hazel. hollis. hunter. jora. juniper. kaziah. keziah. latte. leaf. libra. lief. lilith. linden. luna. maize. maple. marigold. marley. marlow. maze. melanie. mocha. moss. november. nutmeg. oak. oakley. october. opal. orchard. orla. pansy. pie. pine. piper. poe. pumpkin. raine. raven. redd. rory. roslyn. rowan. russet. ruston. sabrina. saffron. scarecrow. september. sienna. sorrel. sullivan. sylvia. tamsin. teresa. tessa. wesley. willow.

PRONOUNS︰ amber/amber. apple/apple. au/autumn. aug/august. august/august. autumn/autumn. branch/branch. brew/brew. cider/cider. cloud/cloud. co/cozy. cocoa/cocoa. cof/coffee. corn/corn. cot/cottage. cozy/cozy. crow/crow. drift/drift. drizzle/drizzle. fa/fall. fall/fall. flannel/flannel. glisten/glisten. glow/glow. gold/gold. hallo/ween. hallow/halloween. halloween/halloween. haze/haze. hazel/hazel. hug/hug. jacko/lantern. lea/leaf. leaf/leaf. maple/maple. maze/maze. mellow/mellow. moss/moss. oct/october. october/october. orange/orange. pie/pie. plush/plush. pump/kin. pump/pumpkin. pumpkin/pie. pumpkin/pumpkin. rain/rain. raven/raven. red/red. sca/scarf. sept/september. september/september. sip/sip. snug/snug. snuggle/snuggle. soft/soft. soothe/soothe. spice/spice. sweater/sweater. swirl/swirl. syrup/syrup. thanks/giving. tick/treat. treat/treat. trick/trick. tuck/tuck. wa/warm. warm/warm. whiff/whiff. whisk/whisk. wrap/wrap. yellow/yellow. 🌽. 🍁. 🍂. 🍄. 🍎. 🎃. 🕯️. 🥧. 🧣. 🧶.

#pupsmail︰id packs #id pack #npt #nput #name suggestions #name ideas #name list #pronoun suggestions #pronoun ideas #neopronouns #emojiself #nounself

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dailypokemoncrochet · 1 month ago

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Monthly art challenges 2025

Trying to come up with punny names for possible monthly art challenges for 2025 to help me focus on what Pokemon to crochet next year, would love suggestions/feedback before I decide which prompts and what they mean to me

January: Ja-new-ary, either new Pokemon from gen 9/Paldea or early route Pokemon from the games

February: Fae-bruary, fairy types; Febirdary, flying types

March: March-rivals, rival Pokemon pairs or ace Pokemon from rival trainers in the anime/games, Middle-March, the middle Pokemon in evolution lines

April: Ape-ril, monkey/gorilla kind of Pokemon

May: Amiguru-may, this is kind of what I do anyway but it's an actual amigurumi+May art challenge lol, Mer-May, also a real art challenge but maybe for here water Pokemon..?

June: Je-June: normal types

July: Jewel-ly, rock types (ironically (haha iron) I have already done the two jewel related Pokemon that come to mind, Carbink and Diancie)

August: All of the following are already existing art challenges that I can adapt for this specifically: Smaugust, dragon types; Doggust, dog-like Pokemon; Aughost, ghost types

September: Swordtember, steel types or typical weapon-like Pokemon (also a real art challenge), Spacetember, space-related Pokemon, Sept-ember, fire types

October: Funny enough this is the month with a lot of art challenges I think but a lot stem from Inktober which has had some kind of controversies(??) this past year? I couldn't think of a punny name besides "Poketober" which I've used in the past as a way of staging fun scenes using my already existing crochets. I'd like something different that's more descriptive of a type of Pokemon

November: Also existing art challenges: Huevember, this would rely on me actually committing to 6 Pokemon for each rainbow color, would prefer something else; Dinovember, fossil or dinosaur-related Pokemon (I've already done a lot of both of those tho); Nov-ember, fire types

December: Decembird, flying types; Decembrr, ice types

Ideally it'd be something punny that describes a specific kind of type or theme and that isn't a category I've already done (I'd prefer not to do Febirdary and Decembirdary so if I do one then the other month would be a different theme). March, May, November, and October are the ones I'm most iffy about in this list so far.

I won't lock myself into only doing whatever the monthly theme is, but it'd help me spend less time thinking too much about what specific Pokemon to crochet.

#text #I could just be very filipino about it and go brr ice types for all those months #maybe i'll make polls for deciding months after more suggestions #someone punnier than me help me out

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addamvelaryon · 12 days ago

Note

Hi! I immediately apologize for my bad English...

What do you think about Daeron's role in Tumbleton? Many people in fandom accuse him of not stopping the army. As far as I remember, the actions of the soldiers horrified him and he wanted to stop them, but he failed. People often say: he is a prince, he had a dragon, these are his people and his responsibility, he could stop the army

(I thought I answered this already but apparently this ask has been sitting in my drafts for a while.)

Your English is fine. ^^

I see Daeron’s story as being about the horrors of war, and one of the reasons for that is the change in Daeron’s personality. At the beginning, he is described as “the gentlest” of his siblings. By the time of his last moments, he is called “once-gentle”, letting the readers know he is no longer the same boy he used to be. In the original published version of The Princess and the Queen, he's even the one who cries when he hears about his father's death. So he is characterized as an emphatic figure. However, Daeron is clearly a sheltered child being directly exposed to a great deal of unfiltered violence which is bound to affect him in negative ways. He will be changed as a person, becoming more comfortable with violence over time. While I don’t think he lost his gentle nature entirely, it was clearly warped by the war.

When it comes to Tumbleton, Daeron takes part in the 'Field of Fire writ small', but is not said to be involved with any of the other atrocities that occurred:

It was the Field of Fire writ small, Grand Maester Munkun wrote. Tumbleton went up in flame: shops, homes, septs, people, all. Men fell burning from gatehouse and battlements, or stumbled shrieking through the streets like so many living torches. Outside the walls, Prince Daeron swooped down upon Tessarion. Pate of Longleaf was unhorsed and trampled, Ser Garibald Grey pierced by a crossbow bolt, then engulfed by dragonflame. The Two Betrayers scourged the town with whips of flame from one end to the other.

— Fire & Blood, The Dying of the Dragons

The sack that followed was as savage as any in the history of Westeros. Tumbleton, that prosperous market town, was reduced to ash and embers. Thousands burned, and as many died by drowning as they tried to swim the river. Some would later say they were the fortunate ones, for no mercy was shown the survivors. Lord Footly’s men threw down their swords and yielded, only to be bound and beheaded. Such townswomen as survived the fires were raped repeatedly, even girls as young as eight and ten. Old men and boys were put to the sword, whilst the dragons fed upon the twisted, smoking carcasses of their victims. Tumbleton was never to recover; though later Footlys would attempt to rebuild atop the ruins, their “new town” would never be a tenth the size of the old, for the smallfolk said the very ground was haunted.

— Fire & Blood, The Dying of the Dragons

The horrors of those days cannot be gainsaid. Seldom has any town or city in the history of the Seven Kingdoms been subject to as long or as cruel or as savage a sack as Tumbleton after the Treasons. Without a strong lord to restrain them, even good men can turn to beasts. So was it here. Bands of soldiers wandered drunkenly through the streets robbing every home and shop, and slaying any man who tried to stay their hands. Every woman was fair prey for their lust, even crones and little girls. Wealthy men were tortured unto death to force them to reveal where they had hidden their gold and gems. Babes were torn from their mothers’ arms and impaled upon the points of spears. Holy septas were chased naked through the streets and raped, not by one man but by a hundred; silent sisters were violated. Even the dead were not spared. Instead of being given honorable burial, their corpses were left to rot, fodder for carrion crows and wild dogs. Septon Eustace and Grand Maester Munkun both assert that Prince Daeron was sickened by all he saw and commanded Ser Hobert Hightower to put a stop to it, but Hightower’s efforts proved as ineffectual as the man himself.

— Fire & Blood, The Dying of the Dragons

Two important things to note here: (1) Based on how Daeron's actions are depicted, he appears okay with raining fire down upon any enemies, but opposed to taking the violence any further. (2) He hands over authority to other men rather than solving the problem himself.

I think a pre-war Daeron would not have been okay with even burning people but the exposure to the battlefield made him much more comfortable with violence.

Part of the reason why the war situation grew so dire is because Daeron obviously failed to put a stop to the horror occurring at Tumbleton:

A different sort of chaos reigned in Tumbleton, sixty leagues to the southwest. Whilst King’s Landing quailed in terror, the foes they feared had yet to advance a foot toward the city, for King Aegon’s loyalists found themselves leaderless, beset by division, conflict, and doubt. Ormund Hightower lay dead, along with his cousin Ser Bryndon, the foremost knight of Oldtown. His sons remained back at the Hightower a thousand leagues away, and were green boys besides. And whilst Lord Ormund had dubbed Daeron Targaryen “Daeron the Daring” and praised his courage in battle, the prince was still a boy. The youngest of Queen Alicent’s sons, he had grown up in the shadow of his elder brothers, and was more used to following commands than giving them.

— Fire & Blood, The Dying of the Dragons

Being the youngest in his family (he has older siblings and nephews all ahead of him in the line of succession), means he would've been taught to follow orders from a young age. Daeron's role in the war was primarily serving as a scout in his uncle's army. At no point has Daeron ever been in charge of anything. So someone like Daeron suddenly finding himself in a leadership position out of the blue is not going to be very successful. When it comes to stopping the sack of Tumbleton, Daeron didn’t even attempt to do that himself. Instead, he went to one of his uncles, to get him to put a stop to it.

There's also the fact that the two people leading the sack had much larger dragons, and Daeron would've been acutely aware of this:

The Two Betrayers felt the need of a king as well…but Daeron Targaryen was not the king they wanted. “We need a strong man to lead us, not a boy,” declared Hard Hugh Hammer. “The throne should be mine.” When Bold Jon Roxton demanded to know by what right he presumed to name himself a king, Lord Hammer answered, “The same right as the Conqueror. A dragon.” And truly, with Vhagar dead at last, the oldest and largest living dragon in all Westeros was Vermithor, once the mount of the Old King, now that of Hard Hugh the bastard. Vermithor was thrice the size of Prince Daeron’s she-dragon Tessarion. No man who glimpsed them together could fail to see that Vermithor was a far more fearsome beast.

— Fire & Blood, The Dying of the Dragons

I think there is something to be said about Daeron, as a member of the ruling family, holding a responsibility to protect the people. Someone else in his position probably would've made a greater effort to oppose what was happening at Tumbleton. But considering Daeron's upbringing, he is not really acclimated to ordering around large armies of men. Even at Bitterbridge, Daeron only came to the forefront after his uncle permitted him to do so.

Just look at what happens when Daeron & the Caltrops decide to finally rid themselves of the dragonseeds:

Lord Unwin Peake and a somewhat reluctant Hobert Hightower summoned eleven other lords and landed knights to a secret council in the cellar of a Tumbleton inn, to discuss what might be done to curb the arrogance of the baseborn dragonriders. [...] Though Prince Daeron was not present at the council, the Caltrops (as the conspirators became known) were loath to proceed without his consent and blessing. Owen Fossoway, Lord of Cider Hall, was dispatched under cover of darkness to wake the prince and bring him to the cellar, that the plotters might inform him of their plans. Nor did the once-gentle prince hesitate when Lord Unwin Peake presented him with warrants for the execution of Hard Hugh Hammer and Ulf White, but eagerly affixed his seal.

— Fire & Blood, The Dying of the Dragons

Note how the other lords do all the planning themselves, and when they finally invite Daeron, it's only to get royal authority from the Prince so they can proceed with their actions in a legally justifiable manner. Unlike his two older brothers who would've absolutely made their voices heard at that council, Daeron just listens and follows orders.

I definitely don't agree with the people who claim Daeron is some malicious individual who reveled in the carnage at Tumbleton. Something like that doesn't fit the type of soft personality he has. At the same time, it's because of his personality that he would be unable to take charge in the midst of a war, and therefore prove inadequate in stopping the multitude of war crimes taking place.

#asoiaf #the dance of the dragons #daeron targaryen #daeron the daring #first tumbleton #the battle of tumbleton #asoiaf meta #meta #ask

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