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I'm not the same person I was one fic ago

Edit: this is extremely long (like twice the length of your fic probably 💀) and unhinged and 75% incoherent but know I mean it all with love

FIRST OF ALL WHEN I STARTED READING THE FIRST LINES I WAS LIKE DAMN THIS IS GOOD then my eyes skimmed back into the a/n and I was like well fuck little to no dialogue 😔😔😔⚰️💀 my brain do be shutting off sometimes when I read little dialogue. Idk it be like that, that's why when I write I'm dialogue heavy (most of the time)

I DIGRESS MY POINT IS

IM NOT THE SAME PERSON I WAS ONE FIC AGO

This is a long ass reblog AND HONESTLY YEAH I DO THINK I HAVE TO APOLOGIZE FOR REQUOTING YOUR ENTIRE FUCKING FIC BACK TO YOU BECAUSE

DAMN

I haven't felt a rush like this in so long.WHAT A TIME TO BE ALIVE YOU KNOW?! WHY KILL YOURSELF WHEN YOU CAN READ DAEMON FANFICTION ON TUMBLR FOR FREE

✨✨✨✨✨Free real estate✨✨✨✨✨

ig a minute sorry for the shit spamming reblog but you must know I do this out of love because I'm an unemployed fresh grad with no spare change and this is the only way I could ever pay you. I'd give you my hair if you asked I'd go bald for you

Ok this is getting weird

Did I say I really like this already? Idk I'm too lazy to go back and check also if my words/sentences are incoherent 😬 thank you for dealing with it because I will not be going back to check if I spelled and typed everything correctly we die like women

OK WAIT I GOT DISTRACTED I MEANT TO PREFACE THIS BY SAYING I DONT LIKE LIGHT DIALOGUE ON FICS COS IDK SOMETIMES MY BRAIN IS LIKE ENOUGH BACKGROUND GIMME THE ACTION but that's not what happened at all THE CHEMICALS IN MY BRAIN ARE SO ALIVE AND HAPPY WOW NOW I KNOW WHY IVE BEEN SO SAD LATELY ITS BECAUSE I HAVEN'T BEEN READING FICS

Idk it felt daunting and scary to do so ??? And tiring and I almost didn't read this because of that IDK MY BRAIN WAS LIKE DONT DO IT IT WONT BE FUN JUST GO TO A TRIED AND TESTED SOURCE BUT DAMN YOU DA SOURCE MY DEAR I AM A DESERT AND YOU ARE MY OASIS

Maybeeeeeeeeee you're gonna be the one that saves meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeehhhh

Ok that was a long enough preface, in coming my live (not so live) reaction

Being coached through your wedding vows is not a good omen for your marriage. At least, that is what your husband must think, by the thunderous look on his face. You fight the urge to scream at him that you have practiced for this moment and that you do not need to be coached through the vows. It would be no use. The two of you do not understand each other.

INSANE. AN INSANE OPENING.

Ok another sidenote, im on mobile and I can only add 10 pics 😔😔😔🤚 smh so I would add more mem reactions for you to vividly understand what and how I'm reacting but

🤚IN🤚SANE💅😩😖 literally just the first line, the first sentence.

WHAT SHE SAID WHATTTT 💥💥🎉🎉🤯🤯🤯🤯 THATS SOME BIG BRAIN LEVEL OPENINGS. SUCH A STRONG OPENING DAFAQ 😒 PACK IT UP EINSTEIN LEAVE SAME BRAIN CELLS FOR THE REST OF US. LIKE HUHHHHHH????????

JUST AGAIN THE OASIS TO MY DESERT UGH (you probably don't care but I used this analogy in one of my Kylo Ren fics and 😗☕👌 I ate that up tbh. I miss her. I miss her, who could write 11k shit fics of her favs 😔) IDK IDK JUST RANT I RANT A LOT IN MY FIC REBLOGS BECAUSE 💅💅💅💅 I HAVE NO FRIENDS LMAO AHHAAHHAHAHHA

🤬🤬🤬get used to it because you can't get rid of me.......... lol

Everything is strange to you in Westeros, from the language to the wedding ceremony. They make you cut your lips and hand, in a procedure you do not enjoy. Your husband does the same. Your blood flows into a goblet, from which you will have to drink later on.

NO CUZ THIS HADME SCREAAMMINNGGG HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHH SHE REALLY SAID 🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢 GET IT I GUESS WESTERNERS 🤮 DAFAQ

It's barbaric. You suppose it must symbolize the joining of bloodlines in the crudest way.

White people

At least Daemon kisses you at the end, a cold brush of his lips against yours that tells you he is still mad. He had probably felt betrayed, being forced into this arrangement you entered willingly.

RAHHH I DONT EVEN REMEMBER WHAT MY REACTION WAS TO THIS BUT IM WILLING TO BET IT WAS KICKING MY LEGS SCREAMING BLUSHING LIKE A CLOWN

If you had known he was that petty, you would have not shown your hand so fast. Your father had wanted dragons, which meant becoming part of House Targaryen. Daemon was the only one available for you to ensnare in your web.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH GIRL BOSS SLAYYYY GASLIGHT GATEKEEP GIRLBOSS SLAYYY HER FATHER ATE ok tbh I don't remember my live reaction to this either but something to do with her father. Im pretty sure at this point you had my soul in your hands I was like this kid is great at writing (and I don't mean that in a oh I'm definitely older than you or condescending way but in like a memey 'hey this guy is good' way)

Daemon had lifted his eyes from the scroll he was reading, annoyed. He had a handsome face, decorated with age lines that only served to make him look more regal. He looked more the part of the King than his brother, a decaying corpse that you had heard had also acquired his own nubile bride.

NOW I KNOW EXACTLY HOW I REACTED TO THIS. I WAS GIGGLING AND FROTHING INT HE MOUTH OVER HIS AGE LINES COS YEAH YEAH OK IM A LIL BITCH FOR IT HUH WHAT ABOUT IT SUE ME. In fact I was so distracted by it I didn't even realize there was a mention of viserys in this 💀💀💀💀🤚🤚🤚 HAAHHAHAAHAHAHHAH WE LOVE ME SOME GOOD OL ROTTING VISERYS SLANDERHAHHAHAAH IDK EVERYTIME ITS MENTIONED ITS JUST SO FUNNY TO ME LIKE I LOVE TO SEE IT HAHAAHHA

Daemon had spoken then. His words were much harsher than those of the language you were used to, lacking the airy song of the languages similar to the one from the Rhoynar. You had not understood. You did not speak a lick of the Common Tongue.

AIRYYY LANGUAGE 😩😩😩🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰 I LOVE THAT DESCRIPTION. Made me think of elvish/silmarillion/Sindarin lol even though I only know the lotr movies. Also it's such a slay, so fresh and clean to have them not speak the same language. UghHHHH SUCH VIG BRAIN. Also I love the sound of rhoynar. Just the name. No idea what the language sounds like IN FACT I SPENT THE ENTIRE FIC TRYNA GUESS WHAT BONDABIL OR WHATEVER THE FUCK THAT B WORD WAS MEANT

“Daor.” He shook his head. “No.”

NO YOU DONT UNDERSTAND RAHHHHHHHH

He got me fucked up when he started teaching her. AND NIT EVEN COMMON TONGUE. HIGH VALYRIAN. ⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️ HIS presumably MOTHER TONGUE BITCH DAFAQ AITE IMMA HEAD OUT IT WAS ZO NICE KNOW ALL OF Y'ALL BYEEEE

Daemon did not oppose, nor encourage the match, but he was angry at you. Angry that you knew before him and tried to charm him into doing your bidding.

Bro mad that girls be winnin

Men like him, you learn, like to be the ones pulling the strings. They hate being treated like hounds, even if that is what they are.

GASLIGHT GATEKEEP GIRLBOSS RAHHHH. HER YES AND ERA (altho Ari be problematic) BUT SHE REALLY SAID 😒💅 ???? ITS TRUE???? 😗☕👌 WHAT ABOUT IT

You get no further lessons.

RAHHHHHH

JUST SO CONCISE. SO POWERFUL. AND DAEMON BE MAD AS FUCKKKK. SO PETTYYYYYY 🤢🤢🤢🤮🤮🤮🤮 EWWWWWWWWW MENNNNNN

As a rich man, your father had known rich men only get richer at times of unrest. And unrest was coming for the Seven Kingdoms. He could smell it in the air, hear it in the whispers of the common folk. Princess Rhaenyra wasn’t going to inherit without issue.

No cuz the speed in which I thought 'oh to be sold of to-' I really had to stop myself. I really had to take a moment and call myself out for THE SPEED the feminism left my body. NAH BUT THEN I WAS LIKE NO FUCK THAT IN THIS ECOMONY?????? IN OUR YEAR OF THE LORD 2024? TO A PRINCE??????? NAH CUZ AT LEAST HER DAD SOLD HER TO A PRINCE 🤚🤚🤚 YEAH IMMA SAY IT OH TO BE SOLD OFF TO A PRINCE IN THIS ECONOMY 😩😩😩✨✨💀💀⚰️⚰️

Your children would get dragons. You would provide funds and as many children as you could, and House Targaryen the magic in their veins. Simple business transaction. But apparently, Daemon disagreed.

... I forgot again... But slay girlie get that dragon husband yipyip

Has he forgotten you do not speak his language? You step closer and poke his arm, hard.

This wasn't my honest reaction but 💀 Daemon kinda dumb for that. BUT YEAH MY HONEST REACTION IS STILL THE SAME WHY THE FUCK DID SHE POKE DAEMON HELLO????? IN WHAT UNIVERSE IS THAT A GOOD IDEA??? LIKE??? HELLO?? I GET HE WAS SCREAMING AT YOU BUT POKING???

Like you thought you ate with that?? Girl I get punching him, slapping him, SCREAMING BACK but poking????????

Ok your honor I've thought about it and I guess she didn't want to be violent cos hell yeah daemon would knock me out one punch man style but your honor in the moment it was just confusing and a really bad idea I stand by this GIRL

乁⁠(⁠ ⁠•⁠_⁠•⁠ ⁠)⁠ㄏ乁⁠(⁠ ⁠•⁠_⁠•⁠ ⁠)⁠ㄏ乁⁠(⁠ ⁠•⁠_⁠•⁠ ⁠)⁠ㄏ u do I booo ok? I got it 😒☕👌

You are not a small woman. But you are young, and you do not train as much as he does. His looming over you feels menacing, and it reminds you once again of the fate his late wife was rumored to have suffered.

Rip lady rhea Royce, you would have loved women's suffrage

This was a bad idea. A terrible idea. Daemon is forcing you to walk backwards, pushing your forehead and nose with his. You either move, or get a broken nose and a concussion.

ARE WE ABOUT TO KISS RIGHT NOW

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH NO CUZ HE WAS LIKE 👹👹👹👹👹👹 IM SO SCARY IM GOING TO PRESS MY FACE REALLY CLOSE TO YOU yes yes irl it would be scary but 😋😋😋😋😋😋😋😋 he's such a dummy baby girl

ALSO 👀👀👀👀 TOWARDS RHE BED???

Yes I'm a depraved daemon slut spray me with water all you want HISS HISS

You look up at him. You give him your own little snarl. Daemon pauses. It's not the reaction he was expecting. He wanted you to cry. You would never give him the satisfaction.

RAHHHH OKAY THESE MIGHT BE OUT OF ORDER COS MY CLIPBOARD AND COPY PASTE DOESNT MALFUNTIONS SOMETIMES BUT RAHHHHHHHH YOU GO QUEEN CHEW HIS HEAD OFFF GRRR BARK BARK SHE LIKE ME FR I BARK AND SNARL TOO 😖😖😖😖👹👹👹

Daemon doesn't heed the warning. He starts tugging at the buttons of your bodice, tiny pearls sent flying all over the room. The gesture is as brutal as it is calculated. It is meant to remind you of your place, always under him from now on. Daemon has a right to your body, and he intends to exercise it as he sees fit. You are no more than an object, and if you cry or scream, it is not relevant.

UGHHHHH RAHHH BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK YOUR HONOR I DONT KNWO WHAG ELSE TO SAY ITS SO DAEMN ITS SO JUICY DELICIOUS HE CAN PUKK MY BUTTRONS OFF ANYTIME IM NOT EVEN SORRY IM JUST SPEKAING M TURHT

“Daor!” You say, firmly. You push him away. Whatever he anticipated, you giving him a fight wasn't something he was prepared for. It shows in the way he folds, stunned by your behavior. You give him hard little slaps to the chest, until you manage to get him off you.

NO CUZ QUEEN BEHAVIOR. I CANNTO TELL YOU HOW MANY TIMES I SLAPPED MYSELF IN THE FACE WHIEL I SQUEALED READING THROUGH THIS. IM PRETTY SURE I WAS KNEE DEEP IN DOING THAT BY THIS PART AND SHE REALLY ATE HIM UP WITH THIS. SHE DEVOURRRREDDDD SHEEEE LEFFTTTT HIM GAGGEDD LIKE BITCH YOU MEEANNNNN WHAT I SAID DAORRR 🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚 PUT A SOCK IN IT RAGGED RAT

Daemon's scowl turns more confused than angry. He looks at you as if you are a particularly challenging riddle to crack. He rightens his clothes and starts to retreat.

THE CROWD GOES WILDDDDDDDD I CANT BELIEVE IT AHE GIRLBOSSED HERSELF TO THE SUNNNN HES BACKIN UP WITH HIS TALE BETWEEN HIS LEGS 🗣️PACK🗣️🗣️IT🗣️UP🗣️ LIZARD🗣️MAN🗣️

He sits on the edge of it, still scowling. You giggle, making Daemon madder still. You look at him with what you hope is a seductive expression and pull your bodice down.

NOOOOO CUZZZZ GIGGGLIINGGG IS SUCH A POWER MOVE SHE WAS SO 😩😩😩😩 SO OP FOR THAT WHATTTTTT

Gagged

You can feel his breath against your neck, making you shiver. His face comes closer, and closer. Daemon stares into your eyes, lips slightly parted. You mirror his expression, feeling as if you are being consumed by your lust.

He arches an eyebrow. Never been one to shy away from a challenge, you brush his lower lip with his thumb. Daemon parts his lips and sucks it in his mouth.

It's me I'm the slut for lip swiping. Fuck. Fuck me. Please I begging you. I'm on my hands and knees. You rlly got daemon goin

And I respect that

The shock must have shown on your face because he laughs, giving your thumb a playful bite. You squirm, instinct overpowering modesty, and roll your hips against his.

LAUGHING DAEMON❓BITING DAEMON❓GAGGED READER❓HUSSY READER❓DEAD ME. AND THATS ON PERIOD

The two of you stare at each other. Closer, and closer, until his features blur, until two purple eyes turn into one. A dragon turned cyclops by the mere force of lust. There is hunger and want, and confusion. Both of you are so close that you are sharing the same air, the same breath. And Daemon pulls, and you are kissing, and you shake in his arms, feeling like how you think the gods must have felt when the cyclopes formed the lighting.

You are restless as he pets you, biting at your mouth, hands sinking in his hair. You tug him towards your neck, knowing his kisses, scorching hot, would burn even sweeter along your nape and ears.

I hate her (I wish that was me)

Daemon, though, has other plans. He pulls away and pecks you on the lips. “Vūjigon ” He says. He touches his mouth. “Vūjigon”

Your honor I creamed my pants. I WISH I COULD JUST DO VOICE RECORD BECAUSE NO AMOUNT IF TEXT COULD DO THE REACTIONS IM DOING ANY JUSTICE DAFAQ THIS GOT ME CURLING MY FINGERS CURLING MY TOES SCREAMING (silently cos it's the wee hour of the night and I can't be waking up the dead now)

“Vūjigon.” You perk up, and start kissing his shoulders. Your hands pull his shirt more open, letting you bite and lick more of his flesh. The urge to consume and be consumed is overpowering, making you desperate to touch him.

SO FUCKING ME

I WILL CONSUME HIM

He pets your hair.

What if this was my last straw

Daemon laughs. He pulls you upwards. Can't he see you are starving?

🥲STOP😭MAKING💔FUN😔OF😩ME😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡 sroppp it I will cry at you kiss me right now 💔💔💔💔💔

“Daor.” He says, when you try to go back to it. You give him your fiercest pout. Daemon tuts at you.

BRAT TAME ME I DARE YOU FUCK YOU DAEMON I WILL WHINE I WILL TANTRUM SO HARD I FUCKING HATE YOU CODDLE ME RIGHT NOW I WILL CRYYYYY

He squeezes one of your breasts, making you moan, before cruelly twisting the bud. You gasp, your nails digging on his naked shoulders.

Ok

“Shhh.” Daemon soothes you, his hand going to squeeze your breast tenderly once more. “Daor?”

NO NO NIT DAOR NO NO PLEASE STOP IT I WILL CRY AT YOU

His other hand comes into your sight. Daemon makes a gesture, two fingers together, separating. You stare. He nuzzles you, his cheek against yours, before repeating it.

SISTER I KNOW IM REDUNDANT BUT IM GAGGED IM SO GAGGED NO CUZ I DOUBT HED GIVE A FUCK AND BE THIS THOUGHTFUL IF THEY SPOKE THE SAME LANGUAGE TBH HES JUST SO KDKSKJDJD FUCK OFF FUCK OFFF

Daemon rubs at your shoulders, soothingly. You understand you need to relax, and force your body to do so. He kisses you in reward, slow and sweet, coaxing you to him.

😩😩😩😩😩😩😩 finally some fucking food (kisses) I'd use the Gordon meme but I'm saving my meme reactions as I've mentioned

The sudden removal of your last layer makes you shiver a little. Your skin is wet from his previous ministrations and rapidly cooling. You plaster yourself to him, seeking warmth.

Me asf. 10/10 no notes.

He chuckles, grabbing your arse to move you slightly out of the way. You scowl, not sure why Daemon is doing so, until you realize he is taking off his breeches.

She's so me. Me 🤝 her. We are one exo (it a kpop meme ignore it if u don't know lol. Nah I'll explain just in case it's like their (kpop boy band 'EXO') tagline

Daemon smiles against your skin. He presses a finger inside you, and you squeal some more. He lets go of your breast to better gaze into your overwhelmed face, seemingly getting an enjoyment out of it.

HAHAHHAAHH NGL I GAGGED MYAELF WITH THIS MEME REACTION. THIS WASNT THE ONE I WAS THINKING OFF BUT YAH SAME. GOD BLESS DONNA. GOD BLESS MERYL

“Daor?” He asks you, one of his hands petting your cunt. It makes you shiver.

🤽‍♀️🤽‍♀️🤽‍♀️🤽‍♀️🤽‍♀️🤽‍♀️🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪YOU CHEEKY FUCKING BASTARD 😡😡😡😡😡 CLEARLY NOT THIS IS WHY MEN DONT DESERVE RIGHTS

“Vūjigon.” You demand, moving your hips just like he taught you. Daemon is too focused on aiding you bounce by thrusting upwards to pay attention to you. When he doesn't obey, you give a tug to his hair.

MEEEEEE ME AS FUCK ME ME ME HAIR PULLING YEARNING WANTING NEEDING DEMANDING I WANT HIM I LOVE HIM MOST ARDENTLY

He snarls at you. You snarl back. So he grabs your wrists and pushes sideways, and suddenly, you are under him and Daemon is still thrusting into you.

AND I OOP BUT IM NOT COMPLAINING JUST MAYBE A TINY KINDA

“Daor.” You rub at his back with your foot, gently. You hold him close, and nuzzle his neck, delighting in his scent. Never you had thought before you would enjoy the smell of sweat and some sort of aromatic oil, yet here you are. “Vūjigon.”

I wish I was her I wish I was her I wish I was her I wish I was her I wish I was her I wish I was her I 'm so jealous of her I'm fucking beefing with a bunch of lines fuck outta here

Daemon's expressions softens. He leans in and gives you a kiss. You make pleased, chirping noises, trying to show him that was precisely what you wanted.

Hey so I'm going to set myself on fire. Cool. Cool. I'm so normal. 100 percent no doubt no doubt

He complies, releasing your hands. You enthusiastically hug him. It helps you anchor yourself against the unrelenting waves of pleasure.

I love it here

You understood then why they called it a small death. You were sweating, squealing like a beast being gutted, thighs trembling under Daemon's hands. It was too much and too little, and you felt yourself reaching it, yearning for it.

😵wanna😵‍💫die😔so😖fucking😩bad🥲ha👹🤽‍♀️ha🔪

Daemon grinned at you. A fierce, proud expression, eyes crinkling in the corners. You pulled him into a kiss, and raked your nails down his back, feeling the skin yield like butter under your fingers. It spurred him on, and with a gasp and a bite to your shoulder, Daemon was shattering inside you.

He collapsed on top of you with a laugh. You smiled. Daemon pulled you to rest, back flush against his chest, and you understood each other better than those who spoke the same, common tongue, did.

I was not the same person I was one fic ago

Bestiary (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Your husband and you do not speak the same language. During your wedding night, you find out that High Valyrian and the Common Tongue pale when compared to the way your bodies allow you to communicate.

Warnings: Heavy smut, not much dialogue. P in V sex. First time.

A/N: Who would have thought the most enthusiastic consent I have ever written with Daemon would be in a fic with nearly no dialogue?

Being coached through your wedding vows is not a good omen for your marriage. At least, that is what your husband must think, by the thunderous look on his face. You fight the urge to scream at him that you have practiced for this moment and that you do not need to be coached through the vows. It would be no use. The two of you do not understand each other.

Everything is strange to you in Westeros, from the language to the wedding ceremony. They make you cut your lips and hand, in a procedure you do not enjoy. Your husband does the same. Your blood flows into a goblet, from which you will have to drink later on.

It's barbaric. You suppose it must symbolize the joining of bloodlines in the crudest way.

At least Daemon kisses you at the end, a cold brush of his lips against yours that tells you he is still mad. He had probably felt betrayed, being forced into this arrangement you entered willingly.

If you had known he was that petty, you would have not shown your hand so fast. Your father had wanted dragons, which meant becoming part of House Targaryen. Daemon was the only one available for you to ensnare in your web.

As any good hunter, you had watched your prey first, taking notes of his behavior. Only an afternoon was needed to understand you started the race with a disadvantage. His eyes followed Princess Rhaenyra, Princess Rhaenys and her little daughter, but never lingered on other women.

While you might have lacked the silver hair, you did not lack the wits and charms necessary to be taken in consideration.

You had needed a few days to ready your song, but you had approached him not even a week later. He had been sitting in the library, so you had knocked on the table twice to draw his attention.

Daemon had lifted his eyes from the scroll he was reading, annoyed. He had a handsome face, decorated with age lines that only served to make him look more regal. He looked more the part of the King than his brother, a decaying corpse that you had heard had also acquired his own nubile bride.

Such was the fate of the daughters of powerful men. Sold to other powerful men, old enough to be their fathers, birthing them their own litter of sons and daughters. Sons that would grow up to become powerful men in their own right, daughters that would become pawns to establish dynasties. On and on it went.

Daemon had spoken then. His words were much harsher than those of the language you were used to, lacking the airy song of the languages similar to the one from the Rhoynar. You had not understood. You did not speak a lick of the Common Tongue.

No silver hair, no words, but plenty of resources. You had placed the book you had brought with you on the table, and looked at him.

His eyes had lit up with curiosity. He recognized the title. He spoke again, intrigued.

Despite his tone sounding much more auspicious, you had no other option than to shake your head and speak, with a tremulous voice.

“Bodmagho.” It's the only word you know, one that you have prepared especially for this. But just in case your pronunciation is not perfect, you open the book and mimic the gesture of passing the pages.

Daemon looks stunned. He says something else, still in the Common Tongue. You were able to tell from the intonation he was asking a question, but you didn't know what it was about.

“Bodmagho.” You repeated, stubbornly. You placed your book down and pointed to it.

Daemon sighed. He pointed to the chair. You sat, happy as a clam.

“Prince Daemon.” He pointed at himself. Then, to you. “Lady…?”

You told him your name. He nodded.

“Daor.” He shook his head. “No.”

You stared. He shook his head again. You understood that no, daor and shaking head meant the same.

“Daor. No.” You shook your head. Daemon squeezed your shoulder, a proud smile on his face.

Your father told you that afternoon that you were to be married to him. Just as you had made efforts to catch Daemon, your father had been setting his trap.

Daemon did not oppose, nor encourage the match, but he was angry at you. Angry that you knew before him and tried to charm him into doing your bidding.

Men like him, you learn, like to be the ones pulling the strings. They hate being treated like hounds, even if that is what they are.

You get no further lessons.

This is how you manage to get to your wedding feast only knowing two words. Teach and no. It makes you the most riveting company, and so, it's no wonder you are soon ushered into a chamber with your new husband.

You had not noticed before, but it is the first time you are alone with him since the morning at the library. To you, it had been a matter of no consequence. You had to marry a powerful man, one day. Your father decided it should be him because he wanted dragons. It was as simple as that.

As a rich man, your father had known rich men only get richer at times of unrest. And unrest was coming for the Seven Kingdoms. He could smell it in the air, hear it in the whispers of the common folk. Princess Rhaenyra wasn’t going to inherit without issue.

Your family moved here for that reason. An opportunity to get richer could not be dismissed. Your father had taken one look at the dragons and decided that they were the key to turning his legacy into an empire.

Giant war machines that could level castles in one afternoon. Raze a city to the ground in mere hours. Fire so hot it could melt stone. They could not be bought, you had to be a Targaryen to have them. It was only natural to turn into one, then.

Your children would get dragons. You would provide funds and as many children as you could, and House Targaryen the magic in their veins. Simple business transaction. But apparently, Daemon disagreed.

His face is thunderous. You can tell he is about to berate you. He starts talking, brows pinched together and an accusing finger pointed towards you.

Has he forgotten you do not speak his language? You step closer and poke his arm, hard.

It was the wrong choice. Daemon's face turns even more murderous. His lips twist into a snarl, teeth bared. His posture turns aggressive. He puffs up his chest, he advances on you. The Prince tries to intimidate you through his body language alone.

You are not a small woman. But you are young, and you do not train as much as he does. His looming over you feels menacing, and it reminds you once again of the fate his late wife was rumored to have suffered.

This was a bad idea. A terrible idea. Daemon is forcing you to walk backwards, pushing your forehead and nose with his. You either move, or get a broken nose and a concussion.

Daemon is terrifying. You will not cross him again, you think to yourself. Only a fool goes around poking dragons with a stick. You feel your palms starting to sweat, a knot forming in your throat. You fight the urge to cry.

The back of your knees hits the mattress, and you fall into the furs with a small noise of surprise. Your husband does not lose any time. He gets right into your face, trying to intimidate you even more.

But if you hope to survive this marriage, to make it work as your father has requested, you can't bend. Daemon will never respect you if you do. He will see you as no more than a frightened girl, who will not disagree with him and serve for little beyond warming his bed. You are not that. You will build an empire, a dynasty out of his dragons and your wealth. The only thing you can do is persevere or break trying.

Daemon scowls at you. He notices the change in your eyes, the fight coming back to you.

“Daor.” You say, staring him down with all your might. It doesn't matter if you are lying down, and he is hovering over you, pinning you under him. You will triumph.

Daemon doesn't heed the warning. He starts tugging at the buttons of your bodice, tiny pearls sent flying all over the room. The gesture is as brutal as it is calculated. It is meant to remind you of your place, always under him from now on. Daemon has a right to your body, and he intends to exercise it as he sees fit. You are no more than an object, and if you cry or scream, it is not relevant.

Despite knowing why he is doing it, you can't avoid grimacing. He looks more beast than a man, snarling over you, ripping your clothes. It's a sight that would scare any woman, no matter how cold.

You look up at him. You give him your own little snarl. Daemon pauses. It's not the reaction he was expecting. He wanted you to cry. You would never give him the satisfaction.

It's a balancing act. You will have to bring him to heel, but soothe his pride in the next act, less he turns on you. Push away a man too much, and he will think you are disrespecting him. He will call you names, thinking you are the problem. Daemon feels entitled to you. You need to show him he is not, but that you are giving yourself to him. He needs to value you. The treasure to his dragon.

“Daor!” You say, firmly. You push him away. Whatever he anticipated, you giving him a fight wasn't something he was prepared for. It shows in the way he folds, stunned by your behavior. You give him hard little slaps to the chest, until you manage to get him off you.

Daemon's scowl turns more confused than angry. He looks at you as if you are a particularly challenging riddle to crack. He rightens his clothes and starts to retreat.

“Daor.” You repeat, grabbing at his shirt to keep him in place. You do not want him to leave.

Daemon wretches free from your grip on his arm. He mutters something, angered.

“Daor.” You use his trick against him, stepping right into his path and forcing him to back off. You use your body to make him advance backwards, toward the bed.

He sits on the edge of it, still scowling. You giggle, making Daemon madder still. You look at him with what you hope is a seductive expression and pull your bodice down.

“Bodmagho?” You ask him, as your dress pools around your feet, leaving you in a sheer shift. Daemon's eyes darken. His expression changes into an amused smile, and he gestures for you to come to him.

You do. You step closer and get on his lap. His hands envelop your waist, warm and calloused.

Then, the unexpected. Daemon grabs your hair and pulls, forcing your head back. You moan, pain and arousal mixing into an unknown emotion that makes the place between your legs slick.

You can feel his breath against your neck, making you shiver. His face comes closer, and closer. Daemon stares into your eyes, lips slightly parted. You mirror his expression, feeling as if you are being consumed by your lust.

He arches an eyebrow. Never been one to shy away from a challenge, you brush his lower lip with his thumb. Daemon parts his lips and sucks it in his mouth.

The shock must have shown on your face because he laughs, giving your thumb a playful bite. You squirm, instinct overpowering modesty, and roll your hips against his.

The two of you stare at each other. Closer, and closer, until his features blur, until two purple eyes turn into one. A dragon turned cyclops by the mere force of lust. There is hunger and want, and confusion. Both of you are so close that you are sharing the same air, the same breath. And Daemon pulls, and you are kissing, and you shake in his arms, feeling like how you think the gods must have felt when the cyclopes formed the lighting.

His hands go to greedily knead at your thighs, slipping under your shift. His palms feel rough against your skin, impatient. The shift rides up, up, up. You mewl against his mouth, desperately reaching for something unknown to you but that you know Daemon will help you reach.

You are restless as he pets you, biting at your mouth, hands sinking in his hair. You tug him towards your neck, knowing his kisses, scorching hot, would burn even sweeter along your nape and ears.

Daemon, though, has other plans. He pulls away and pecks you on the lips. “Vūjigon ” He says. He touches his mouth. “Vūjigon”

You kiss him, softly. “Vūjigon”

He pets your hair.

“Vūjigon.” And he points to his collarbones. You frown in confusion, thinking perhaps the word doesn't mean what you think it does. He sighs and leans in, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the space between your collarbones.

“Vūjigon.” You perk up, and start kissing his shoulders. Your hands pull his shirt more open, letting you bite and lick more of his flesh. The urge to consume and be consumed is overpowering, making you desperate to touch him.

Daemon laughs. He pulls you upwards. Can't he see you are starving?

“Daor.” He says, when you try to go back to it. You give him your fiercest pout. Daemon tuts at you.

He squeezes one of your breasts, making you moan, before cruelly twisting the bud. You gasp, your nails digging on his naked shoulders.

“Shhh.” Daemon soothes you, his hand going to squeeze your breast tenderly once more. “Daor?”

You don't know how to tell him what you want, so you grab his hand and make him pinch the tender bud again. Daemon smiles. He kisses you, muttering something fervently on your lips.

He lays you down on the bed, despite your attempts to sit up. Daemon pins you down with a growl, hand on your chest.

You can't help it. No matter the warning, you squirm as if you were in pain. It certainly feels like it. There is some sort of hunger in your belly, making you want to rub your core against him. You can feel your shift starting to become wet right above your tailbone. Daemon has you so bothered you are dripping into the shift and the bed.

Daemon gives you another growl and leans down to bite your breast over the fabric of your shift. It's meant to be punishment, but you arch into it, gasping.

He laughs. He takes as much of it as it can fit in his mouth, sucking greedily. The noises are obscene. The sight must be, too. Your mouth, open, moaning yourself into a frenzy. Daemon, nipping, biting, sucking, like a man starved. Your shift with two giant wet spots, one at the chest and the other by your arse.

You moan, surprised at the feeling. You had never thought bodies could be used in such a way before. Nor had you hoped for him to please you so eagerly.

His lips close around your bud. His tongue twirls around it, lavishing it with attention. You grab at his hair, his nape, desperately trying to hold onto something. Daemon just sucks harder on your breast. You moan, and moan, and moan some more. Desperate little sounds, gathering in the air around a desperate girl.

He switches to your other breast. Your shift feels sticky on your skin, so you start trying to take it off. The task distracts you enough for his hand to find its way to your core, and you squeak at the first sensation of his fingers against it.

Daemon smiles against your skin. He presses a finger inside you, and you squeal some more. He lets go of your breast to better gaze into your overwhelmed face, seemingly getting an enjoyment out of it.

Another finger joins the first. You cry out. It stings a bit. Daemon shushes you, kissing your cheek. He rubs at something above your opening that makes you squirm in delight.

His other hand comes into your sight. Daemon makes a gesture, two fingers together, separating. You stare. He nuzzles you, his cheek against yours, before repeating it.

You nod with a pout.

He starts prying you open slowly, this time. Despite enjoying causing pain, it appears your cooperation has granted you privileges with Daemon. He understood the distress on your face, and read you correctly enough to know it was not going to go well if he kept going as he was.

Daemon rubs at your shoulders, soothingly. You understand you need to relax, and force your body to do so. He kisses you in reward, slow and sweet, coaxing you to him.

You nod again. Daemon moves back, settling himself by your side. He takes your shift away, pressing soft little kisses to each new inch of skin revealed.

The sudden removal of your last layer makes you shiver a little. Your skin is wet from his previous ministrations and rapidly cooling. You plaster yourself to him, seeking warmth.

He chuckles, grabbing your arse to move you slightly out of the way. You scowl, not sure why Daemon is doing so, until you realize he is taking off his breeches.

“Daemon.” You whisper, softly. There is a part of you that is already cringing at the promise of pain the loss of your maidenhead will bring.

“Daor?” He asks you, one of his hands petting your cunt. It makes you shiver.

“Bodmagho.” You grasp at his shoulders, steadying yourself. Daemon lines the two of you. You feel his member at your entrance, holding you open and threatening to spear you apart. It feels scorching against your skin.

He helps you impale yourself on his member. It's not pleasant at first. Property dictates that you should not let him see your discomfort. You should just bear it like a good wife and allow him to chase his pleasure unbothered.

But you know Daemon enjoys causing pain. He thrives on it. So you let your eyes fill with tears, and your face goes slack and overwhelmed.

He smiles. He licks your tears away, and mumbles something. You squeal, and it only excites him more.

“Bodamagho.” Daemon pinches the flesh on your hip, clearly calling you to focus. His hands move your pelvis back and forth, back and forth, until you are hissing in pleasure, your hands on his chest, doing the movement yourself.

“Vūjigon.” You demand, moving your hips just like he taught you. Daemon is too focused on aiding you bounce by thrusting upwards to pay attention to you. When he doesn't obey, you give a tug to his hair.

He snarls at you. You snarl back. So he grabs your wrists and pushes sideways, and suddenly, you are under him and Daemon is still thrusting into you.

You are desperate for closeness. You scrunch up your face and wrap your legs around his back. Daemon looks down at you, and bites your shoulder. He is not pleased with your perceived attempt to take control.

Realizing your mistake, you shake your head.

“Daor.” You rub at his back with your foot, gently. You hold him close, and nuzzle his neck, delighting in his scent. Never you had thought before you would enjoy the smell of sweat and some sort of aromatic oil, yet here you are. “Vūjigon.”

Daemon's expressions softens. He leans in and gives you a kiss. You make pleased, chirping noises, trying to show him that was precisely what you wanted.

He complies, releasing your hands. You enthusiastically hug him. It helps you anchor yourself against the unrelenting waves of pleasure.

His hands, now freed from yours, are everywhere. Twisting your buds, rubbing at your pearl, squeezing your waist. Daemon whispers nonsense in your ears, takes the lobe between his teeth. He aids you, tilting your hips with his hands, reaching deeper.

You heard a story once, about Westeros. A white hart was said to come to the greatest Kings alive. A magnificent beast, tall as a man, with skin made of the purest snow and antlers as long and imposing as the branches of an ancient tree. If a King encountered it, it was a good omen for his rule. It would be just and prosperous, blessed by the Gods.

What did they do with the hart? Keep it in Kingswood, perhaps? You had made the mistake of asking, once. You had been told that they used the best spear they had. That men held the hart down, and they gutted it from head to belly.

The perfect, regal beast, fur as pale as snow. The pristine white sheets under you. Blood tainting the white. What a way to go.

You understood then why they called it a small death. You were sweating, squealing like a beast being gutted, thighs trembling under Daemon's hands. It was too much and too little, and you felt yourself reaching it, yearning for it.

You did not care if you burned, moth to a flame, maiden to a dragon. Daemon seemed to realize it because his hand went to rub at your pearl, and he leaned in.

“….” He was talking, but it was in that strange language of his, and your ears were ringing, you felt about to explode. Your body responded to his tone, though. Gentle, loving, coaxing you over the edge with a scream so fierce you might as well have been one of those weeping women that appeared far north.

Daemon grinned at you. A fierce, proud expression, eyes crinkling in the corners. You pulled him into a kiss, and raked your nails down his back, feeling the skin yield like butter under your fingers. It spurred him on, and with a gasp and a bite to your shoulder, Daemon was shattering inside you.

He collapsed on top of you with a laugh. You smiled. Daemon pulled you to rest, back flush against his chest, and you understood each other better than those who spoke the same, common tongue, did.