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dedicatednotobsessed · 9 months

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✨ Can I request a fluffy one shot where Daemon and reader are expecting their first child? ✨

Daemon and reader could pick out a dragon egg for their child's cradle? Reader let's Daemon pick the egg since he has been over the moon excited about this pregnancy? He would be such a devoted daddy 😭

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Of course! For more HOTD requests, just submit a strong snack to Vhagar through my ask box 💚 {I will be opening my ask box soon for The Last Kingdom and Game of Thrones requests, so keep an eye out for that announcement! 💕}

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Issa dōna [Daemon Targaryen x Pregnant!Reader]

Other HOTD stories [requests open]

Summary: Your one dream in life had always been to find a good husband {one that will serve your house well} and be a loyal wife and loving mother. After a constant battle with your Uncle, King Viserys, you were able to take your one true love’s hand in marriage, your other Uncle Daemon. As a young girl, you had dreamt of being with him; he seemed to be everything in a perfect husband: loyal, caring, and loving. It only seemed to be proven more so that he was the right choice when he hears some exciting news….

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A small gleeful giggle passed your lips while your dragon landed in the sands of Dragonstone, glancing over when the second dragon landed beside you. Only hours ago you were in the capital marrying the love of your life, your Uncle turned husband, Daemon.

Ever since you were a young girl, you had an infatuation towards your Uncle and it only grew the older you became, maturing into a young woman. You ended up in the King's care when you were a babe, your mother having passed during childbirth and your father- the youngest brother to the King and Daemon- having tragically passed in battle during the early stages of your mother's pregnancy. Viserys treated you as his own and you could not be more thankful for him.

You smiled happily when Daemon offered his hand, taking it and sliding down, your white silken dress lightly flowing around you. You turned hearing the trills from Saphira and reached up to pat her neck, her deep blue scales shimmering in the moonlight.

"I believe Saphira is looking forward to her new home," You stated fully turning to your husband, your violet eyes meeting his matching ones.

Daemon smiled lightly as he reached up to push back a loose strand of your hair. "Well, she has no choice in the matter, does she?"

You giggled at the slightly teasing tone of his voice. "I suppose she does not," You agreed.

He moved his hand to your waist beginning to lead you to the castle, your new home. You let your gaze wander over the various tapestries of the Dragons from Old Valyria; the painted cloth telling the tale of the Doom of Valyria. Some of the newer tapestries down the long hallway resembled Aegon’s conquest, including his wives Viserya and Rhaenys.

You came back to reality when Daemon opened the door to your marital chambers, looking around as you walked in; it was slightly smaller than your chambers back in the capital. You walked over to the roaring fire that was awaiting you while Daemon went for the fresh pitcher of wine. Your violet eyes shimmered as the flames flickered, your mind wandering.

A dragon is only deserving of a dragon and through their flames, they will burn together. That is what Daemon would always tell you anyway.

A small smile crept onto your lips feeling a hand on your waist, giggling when Daemon pulled you into his chest. You hummed as he leaned down, his lips attaching to your neck.

“You know,” You began, smiling more when he bit down on your sweet spot. “We left before we had a chance to do the bedding ceremony.”

Daemon hummed in response while he swayed the two of you. “Is that so?” He smirked lightly as you turned in his arms, reaching up to push back a strand of your silver hair. “We should get right on that then, hm?”

“We should,” You agreed smiling lovingly at your husband.

Your husband…it felt foreign almost to call your Uncle said title, yet at the same time…it felt right. You had fought long and hard to have this marriage, willing to risk everything for the love you two shared.

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“Uncle, please.”

“How many times do I have to say no to you, Y/N?” Viserys sounded agitated as he sat beside his model of Old Valyria, rubbing at his temple.

You had been discussing with your Uncle close to one moon now asking for Prince Daemon’s hand and the answer had always been the same…no. You did not understand why he would not let you marry Daemon; a part of you believed it was from the influence of the Lord Hand, Otto Hightower.

“We are done here.” Viserys waved his hand causing you to frown.

“But, Uncle-“ You began to protest.

“I said we are done, Y/N!”

You sighed deeply at the way the King’s voice rose to you; you were used to it, however. He has made the comment once or twice of you being his political headache since you had refused each and every single proposal that was brought to your feet. In some cases, you were worse than his blood daughter, Rhaenyra whom you had strayed from in the last year or so. The two of you shared feelings for the same man which caused jealousy and it only became worse when it was announced that Rhaenyra was to be wed to Ser Laenor Velaryon which meant you had more of a chance for Daemon to take your hand in marriage.

You looked down at the grounds of the garden with your hands clasped in front of you, your brows knit together as your mind ran with thoughts. It had been a few days since the last discussion with your Uncle and you had not spoken to him since he announced a feast by the upcoming moon cycle- a feast to find a proper husband for yourself. You had always promised yourself that you would not suffer the same fate as Rhaenyra but it seems as though the gods were cruel.

“And why would a Princess of the Seven Kingdoms want to wander the gardens all by herself?”

You furrowed your brows a bit at the unfamiliar voice and turned to see a young man with wavy shoulder-length dark hair.

“I apologize…who are you?”

The man chuckled lightly. “Forgive me, Princess. I am William Mooton, the only living child of Lord Mooton.”

You hummed in response with a cocked brow. “I am Princess Y/N but you clearly knew that.”

William smirked lightly at the tone of your voice. “The tales of Targaryen beauty do not do you justice, Princess. You are even more beautiful in person.”

You returned his smirk. “Well thank you, my lord.”

William nodded his head, his smirk turning into a smile. “May I accompany you, Princess?”

You let your eyes wander over the young man for a moment, your smirk still on your lips. You could not even deny how handsome of a man he was; perhaps this upcoming feast would not be too bad after all if more suitors had a similar appearance to William of House Mooton.

“If you insist, my lord,” You replied after a moment, a genuine smile filling your face.

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As the moon began to end its cycle, the festivities seemed to grow and grow which caused a dark saddened cloud to begin to loom over you. The more people that arrived, the more your heart grew heavy because the one person you wanted was not there.

The feasting hall was filled with chatter and laughter of various lords and ladies who hoped that you would choose their son as a potential suitor. The only viable option it seemed was William Mooton, but even then your heart still yearned for Daemon.

You glanced up when a figure walked over to you and offered William a soft smile as he took the spot beside you. “You look quite lovely tonight, my princess,” William told you quietly.

You nodded a bit in response, your smile widening slightly. “Thank you, my lord.”

He let his eyes rake over your features for a moment before he cleared his throat sitting up. “I was wondering if you would like to have a dance with me.”

William had been trying to make sure you chose him in the end as your husband by offering a dance every night. You had politely refused every single one, but the cycle was ending and you needed to choose a suitor soon enough before you would be stuck with a lesser lord who had a cock the size of his pinkie finger.

You reached out to take his hand as the doors blew open causing everyone to turn their heads, a small gasp passing your lips at the sight of Prince Daemon. The hall seemed to grow silent while the Prince with short silver hair strolled towards the head table, a smug smirk on his features. You always remembered that he enjoyed his grand entrances.

Viserys stared at his younger brother, his brows furrowed. He did not even inform him that there was a suitor feast in your honor; he had hoped he would stay away yet, Daemon always seemed to make an appearance. Whether he was invited or not, and more often than not, he was not invited.

Daemon did not mind the eyes on him as he took a seat at the end of the table, his gaze catching yours. He let out a low chuckle. “Do not be surprised to see me, my sweet niece.”

You stumbled on your words, silently thanking the King when he was the first to speak up; “it is quite a surprise that you are here, brother.”

Daemon hummed in response. “I am not one to miss my brother’s feasts,” He replied offering him a small smile. “Besides, I do wish to fight in the tourney on the morrow as your champion.”

Viserys chuckled lightly. “I do not think that would be wise, Daemon.”

“And why is that?” The Prince questioned with a cocked brow.

“The tourney is for Princess Y/N’s hand,” Otto spoke up. “Unless she is to choose a husband tonight.”

Daemon scoffed at the voice of Otto Hightower. The two men never got along and Daemon was not afraid to voice his opinions of the other man; a cunt is the term he enjoyed using. “I still wish to fight as your champion, brother.”

“With all due respect-“

“With all due respect, Lord Hand, I did not ask for your opinion,” Daemon cut him off, smirking at the glare Otto gave him.

Viserys relaxed in his seat, rubbing at his temples from the headache his brother was clearly giving him. “Prince Daemon will be my champion,” He said after a moment.

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The tourney certainly was a spectacle; it all came down to the King’s champion and Lord Walys’ champion- his only living child. He did not want his son to compete but William was determined and his cockiness cost him his life. Daemon gave him one swift strike to the heart with his lance and the young man fell, blood pooling out of his wound and his mouth. In the end, Daemon claimed your hand and it felt as though it was all a dream. He was the only person you ever wanted and now you had him.

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You had one hand on Daemon’s arm, the other on your rounded stomach while he led you towards the Keep. It took some time, but you were finally able to swell with the child. His child. It made you misty-eyed at the mere thought of having the love of your life’s child.

“It feels as though nothing has changed,” You breathed out walking through the familiar halls rubbing lightly at your husband’s arm.

Daemon snorted at that. “Those cunts are slowly turning it into the Faith of the Seven,” He scoffed.

You sighed softly knowing he was not talking about his brother. You stayed silent though as he led you toward the throne room where your Uncle and his wife would be waiting for your arrival. The news of your pregnancy spread rather fast through the Seven Kingdoms and everyone from the various corners of Westeros was coming in celebration of you, your husband, and your unborn babe.

"It reminds me of when we got married." You scrunched up your nose hearing all of the chatter from outside the throne room.

Daemon chuckled lightly while he looked down at you with an adoring look behind his violet eyes. He reached over to rub your swollen stomach causing you to giggle. Every night he would talk to the little dragon growing inside of you; he seemed prepared for fatherhood and it swelled your heart.

"Once the festivities are over, would you like to go to the hatchery to choose an egg for our son?" He asked standing up straight, a content smile on his features.

"And how do you know it is going to be a son?"

His smile only grew. "I can tell," He replied simply looking ahead as the doors to the throne room opened.

"Prince Daemon and Princess Y/N of House Targaryen," The man announced at the doors, the room erupting in cheers.

You smiled brightly at the crowds surrounding the pair before your eyes turned to the head table. Viserys stood there tall and proud with Alicent by his side as they led the room in cheers.

"My sweet niece," Viserys greeted stroking your cheek lightly before he moved his hand to your stomach. "I am so proud of you," He whispered.

"Thank you, Uncle," You replied quietly feeling the tears prick your eyes before giggling as he pulled you into a hug.

You returned his hug, closing your eyes while he stroked back your silver hair. "Does he make you happy?" He pulled back a bit, smiling a small smile when you nodded. "Then I am happy if you are happy."

You parted your lips in surprise; you never thought that he would approve of your marriage to Daemon. Half of you expected after his brother knocked William Mooton onto the ground in a pool of his own blood, your Uncle would have chosen another match for you. You were thankful in the end though that he had kept his word; you were becoming quite bored with William anyway.

"Thank you, Uncle," You whispered, a tear rolling down your cheek.

Viserys smiled as he reached up to wipe your tears away before he pulled you close kissing the side of your head. "Now, go and enjoy the festivities," He stated pulling away from you with a chuckle.

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You smiled lightly at the warmth of the hatchery while you looked around, the various eggs against the wall and in the incubation chambers. Saphira's first clutch was still in the hatchery, wanting to wait until you were with child.

"Are these all of her eggs?" You asked the dragon master who nodded.

Your violet eyes wandered over the three eggs, placing a hand on the iridescent-colored egg with light speckles of blue throughout. "That is Revnass," The master spoke up.

You pulled your hand away slowly, looking up at your husband as he walked closer. Daemon ran his fingers over the red scales of an egg with a deep blue color swirled around the bottom. You smiled softly watching his eyes shine brightly while he picked up the egg, looking it over gingerly.

"Bisa iksos se mēre,” Daemon said quietly. (This is the one).

The master cleared his throat. “Ziry iksos tradition syt se muñnykeā naejot iderēbagon se drōmon.” (It is tradition for the mother to choose the egg).

You looked at the master before your eyes turned to Daemon and smiled lightly. You could see from the glimmer in his eyes how much it meant to him. You rubbed his arm lightly when he looked down at you, smiling more.

“Ziry iksos ry paktot,” You assured him quietly before your attention turned to the dragon master who looked between the two of you. “Skoros iksos pōja brōzi?” (It is all right // what is their name?).

“Moraxes,” The master replied in a gruff voice.

You looked up at Daemon, giving him a nod. “I believe you are correct, husband.”

Daemon beamed at that while the masters took the egg to take it to the chambers you two will be calling home for your time remaining in King’s Landing. He got down on his knees slowly, leaning his head against your rounded belly, his hands on either side.

“A strong dragon for a strong son,” He whispered leaning over to press a kiss gently against your clothed stomach.

In the end, you did end up having a son by the name of Alyster; he was a spitting image of his father with a similar fiery personality to him. He had a special bond with Moraxes, the two becoming an unstoppable pair. Alyster could barely keep his feet off the ground. You ended up having another child, a daughter, named Dahlya who claimed the iridescent dragon, Revnass as her own when she was a hatchling. Daemon was there for both children, being a loving husband and an even more loving father. It was the dream you have always wanted and could not ask for anything better.

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authurials · 2 years

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𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐔𝐓.

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 . the gods have seen fit to punish you by way of the child you carry

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 . @holy-minseok

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 . 18+ situations, references to stillbirths, traumatic birthing experiences, slight gore, blood, and violence, heavy angst, no happy ending

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 . so this request was mostly in reference to king maegor and his wife, alys. i haven’t really written things like childbirth, particularly of this nature, before so i hope i did it somewhat justice. after this, i’ll be pushing out the second (and final) part to the weight of this heart before tackling a longer house of the dragon piece over on ao3--it’ll be a full length fic instead of just a one-shot or miniseries. any guesses on who it’s for? as always, remember to like, comment and reblog if you enjoy reading! do not repost/claim as your own please

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 you lost a child of yours and Daemon’s, the maester told you that these things happen; these things–as if the cold and bloody body of the babe they’d laid upon your heaving chest was a mere accident, an inconvenience. The babe had not felt like an inconvenience to you, it felt like a hot poker to the chest–shoved in deep, twisted until you felt like you couldn’t breathe. At least you’re alive, the maester and others–Daemon even–would say to you; soft words whispered to you in the dimly lit space of your chamber as hands pulled up the weight of a blanket over your body, taste of milk of the poppy lingering on your tongue.

The first child you lost had been a girl; you named her Daella.

The second time you lost a child of yours and Daemon’s, it felt less like a hot poker and more like a dull sting. You wept for this babe as you had for Daella, kept them close to your chest until Daemon pried your blood stained fingers from their tiny body. Yet, when the sun rose on the third day of your vigil, you did not allow yourself to suffocate in your grief as you had done before. You instead joined Daemon’s side as you laid your second child to rest beside the first, hands gripping each other tight as you promised this would be the last one.

The second child you lost had also been a girl; you named her Viserra.

The third child you lost was not Daemon’s at all, instead they were of a seed planted by one of your lovers–of which one you were never sure. The child had come out as faceless as their father, an amalgamation of parts that resembled a baby and yet were not. You saw it as a curse, a punishment from the Seven for what you had done to Daemon, though it was nothing he had not done to you before. And yet, as you stared at the deformed face of the third babe, it was you alone who bore the punishment even as Daemon believed this one to be his as well.

The third child was neither girl nor boy; you named them Derion all the same.

Before, you had wanted nothing more than a child, if only to have a more tangible tie to Daemon. You were not his wife, though you had been there through them all: Rhea, and Laena, and now Rhaenyra. Any child born from you Daemon would’ve gladly claimed though, especially if it had been a boy–politics of the court be damned. Yet, the loss of your three children had soured you on the idea of motherhood, and as of late you were beginning to believe you were not really meant to be a mother. Which only made the weight of your fourth pregnancy feel all the more heavy as the birth drew closer and closer.

“It’s a boy,” Daemon spoke in hushed excitement, kneeling beside your bed as you rested. Your fingers were entwined on the bare flesh of your stomach, skin smoothing over the angry purple lines of a belly stretched too big. “I just know it.”

“And if it is a girl?” You asked teasingly, though there was no real enthusiasm behind the light-hearted jab. You cared not if it was a boy or girl, just that soon they would be out of you and once again you’d be free to do as you pleased; ever since he had found out you were pregnant, Daemon had hovered like the dragon he was, ensuring you put no strain or stress on yourself. His near proximity did not allow for you to sneak off as easily as you had in the past, though it was not from lack of trying.

“Then we will simply have to try again,” Daemon chuckled, lifting your hand to press a kiss to it. You regarded him with tired eyes, the curve of your lip feeling heavy and fake, and not for the first time you wondered where the love you had felt for him had gone. It was still there, dull and throbbing like a healing wound, but it was different now than when you were young and he first took you. You had been nothing, a nameless girl of a nameless house, yet Daemon had seen something in you and from there your life had been forever changed.

Did he still love you? Or were you both simply holding on to something that had been long dead and buried with the children you had lost?

“What if we are to lose this one as well?” you found yourself whispering, eyes lowering from his gaze to the swell of your stomach. “I grow tired of trying, Daemon.”

“Do not speak of such things,” Daemon urged you, hand coming up to cup your chin so he could turn you to look at him. “This baby will live, we will have our son–I can feel it.”

For a moment, you just stared into his pale eyes, feeling the pad of his thumb brush across your bottom lip as he stared back intensely. All you could bring yourself to do was nod in agreement, ignoring the pounding of your fearful heart. In his eyes, you had seen something hungry and desperate, something that struck fear into the very core of you.

“Now, rest,” Daemon broke the unsettling silence, leaning in to press a kiss first to the crown of your head and then to your lips, all the while his hand resting on your stomach–as if he could will this baby to live, to be a boy. “I will come back later with dinner.”

Without another word, he stood and left you with what he had said, your own hand subconsciously finding your stomach. You rested it there as you waited, waiting for any sign that the babe within was strong and healthy, as if you–like Daemon–could change their fate with a single touch.

Only three more days would pass until you found yourself once more in the birthing bed, the sweat on your brow being dabbed away by a serving girl whose name you couldn’t recall as another wave of pain washed over you. Grasping the sheets in tight fists, you grunted as you tried not to push until the midwives and maester told you to. One of the former had left moments before to fetch Daemon when it looked like the babe could not be swayed to wait. They were coming early this time, similar to when you had Viserra, a parallel you did not let yourself dwell on for too long as you fell back into the bed in exhaustion.

“I-I can’t….” you panted. “Please, I can’t….not again-”

“You can, my lady,” the maester interjected from his place on the side opposite of the serving girl, “and you must. The midwives and I will do everything to ensure that this baby and you live but-”

“But if you must, will you cut it out of me?” you laughed breathlessly. “As King Viserys did to Queen Aemma?”

“I would never allow that to happen,” a new voice stated. Turning your head, you watched Daemon walk through the door of the chamber, a flustered midwife close behind him as she rejoined the others.

Kneeling beside you, Daemon took your hand, pressing a kiss to it as he peered into your pained eyes. Groaning, your heels dug into the bed as you fought the urge to push, the waves becoming increasingly more painful and close together.

“If you must choose between her and the babe,” Daemon spoke, eyes flicking up to the maester, “then you will do everything in your power to ensure she lives, understand?”

“Daemon-” you beseeched, pulling your hand from his.

“We can try for another babe,” he interrupted, peering between you and the maester, “there is no other you, my darling.”

“We will do what we can, my prince,” the midwife at the bottom of the bed between your legs spoke quietly.

“You will do better than that,” Daemon replied, a bite to his voice as he held the maester’s gaze. “Understand?”

“Yes, Prince Daemon,” the maester bowed his head, face paling under the glare of a dragon.

The birthing pushed on as day steadily turned into night, and unlike the first three times you had given birth, Daemon never left your side. After a while you feared the baby would never come, that they were doomed to stay inside of you forever, to die and fester until you succumbed to their rotting corpse. The mere thought made you delirious, you became detached from reality as you begged them to get the baby out. Your cries fell on deaf ears as the midwives took turns at your side and in between your legs, wiping away your sweat and tears as they whispered words of reassurance. There was no consoling you, not even Daemon’s presence as he once again gripped your hand and encouraged you to push.

“You’re doing great, my love,” he spoke, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You’re almost there.”

“Please,” you gasped, turning your tear stained face towards his, “ please, Daemon–get it out of me!”

“I can see the head,” a midwife spoke loudly over your distressed pleas. “You’re almost there–just a few more pushes, my lady!”

“Did you hear that?” Daemon smiled, stroking your damp hair away from your flushed face. “They’re almost out, our baby….our son.”

He looked so happy, so hopeful, and all you could muster up was an ache of resentment as you gave another grueling push. If he wanted a son so bad, why could he not put one into that wife of his? Any son born of you and him would be a bastard, no matter if Daemon claimed them or not; you were his consort after all, no better than a whore in the eyes of the royal court.

There were many more pushes to come as night drew on, the sky darkening to an angry bluish purple and it was only when the sun threatened to rise once more that you finally heard the first cries of the child. You felt them pulled from your body as you gave one final push, a cry of relief leaving you as you once again felt blissfully empty. Lost in your own euphoria, it took a moment to realize that the wails that preceded your child’s birth weren’t that of the babe alone but also that of the midwife which held them.

“What is it?” a voice demanded, and you felt the shifting of the bed as Daemon left your side quickly.

“Daemon?” You croaked out weakly, hand seeking him until you realized it was him that had spoken, and it was him now at the foot of the bed, taking the babe from the trembling midwife’s arms. “Daemon, what’s wrong?”

“Fuck the Seven….” you heard someone–most likely Daemon–mutter.

“What’s wrong?” You asked again, trying to lift yourself up but your attempts were futile. All strength left your body as you collapsed, still feeling the pulse of blood leaving your body.

“Let me see the babe,” the maester spoke as the midwives came to your aid, beginning to clean you up, but you could see the distress in your eyes.

“What?” You asked, looking between all of them, fear taking hold of you. Again, you could hear the weak cries of your babe–so they were still alive. “Why can’t I see my baby? Daemon-”

“Quiet,” the maester spoke loudly. A wave of silence soon fell over the room, the midwives working quietly as the maester and Daemon tended to the baby. You tried, with no avail, to rest yourself from the doting hands of the women and go see the child. Yet, it was futile, and eventually after so many unanswered prayers, you fell back into the bed.

Like your own, the child’s cries had long since stopped and you feared that like the others they had not made it. Those fears were only confirmed when you saw the grim look the maester gave Daemon, and Daemon in turn turned his attention to you. You were surprised to find the anger there, in his eyes and between his brows where the skin furrowed in barely contained rage. Before you could open your mouth to speak, Daemon spat out:

“Leave us.”

The midwives stilled in their movements, looking first at each other and then at him; one of them cleared their throat:

“My prince, we must-”

“Your prince has told you to leave!” Daemon shouted, causing everyone–including yourself–to flinch.

Without another word, the women collected what they could quickly before departing the chambers, leaving only you, Daemon, and the maester in the increasingly oppressive space. Fearful of the look in your lover’s eyes, you dragged yourself up to lean against the mound of pillows. As you did, you watched as Daemon gently took the still body of the babe into the cradle of his arms; the gesture was polarizing to the deadly set of his jaw as he looked up at you once more.

“Daemon-” You began, but stopped to wet your lips. “Daemon, what is wrong, my love?”

“I do not wish to hear your voice right now,” he spoke through clenched teeth, eyes lowering to look at the bundle in his arms; from your position you could barely make out the hint of pale hair atop the babe’s head. “The maester has informed me that the child is–was a boy.”

You gasped, tears once more pricking your eyes as your fears were confirmed, “oh, Daemon-”

“Do not speak,” he surprised you by shouting. “The maester has also informed me that this could only be the punishment of the gods–upon you.”

“What?” You frowned, weakly trying to sit up once more. “Daemon, what are you talking about?”

“Shall I show you then?” He barked, a crazed look in his eyes as walked over to you with your son. “Shall I show you what you have done to our son?”

Pressing further into the pillows and away from Daemon, you let out a cry as he finally lowered the blankets in his arms to reveal the child. Like your others, he was so small and pale, still covered in the red viscera of your womb. Unlike the others, the sockets where his eyes should have been, were hollow and bare, still bleeding. Letting out a pained sob, you tried to look away but Daemon would not let you, using his free hand to grip your face tightly and make you look.

“You did this! You did this to my son!” He cried out, tears of his own falling from his eyes as his hold on you became bruising. Jerking away from him, you fell to your side in the bed with a pained cry. Shaking, you looked over your shoulder as Daemon now turned away from you, cradling his son close to his chest as he stalked back towards the maester.

“Tell her,” Daemon demanded. “Tell her, what you told me.”

“There have been…murmurs,” the maester cleared his throat, pale and shaking like you as he stood under the scrutiny of the mad prince. “Murmurs of other lovers, of other seeds planted in the past; though this child is obviously a Targaryen, it is apparent the gods have seen fit to take his eyes as punishment for the affairs; such as they did with King Maegor’s son.”

“No….” you whispered weakly. “No, Daemon I promise–”

“I always knew,” Daemon spat out with venom. “I always knew that there were others, ever since the last one, but I allowed them because….because I loved you. And where has it gotten me? My son is dead! You have killed our son….”

“Daemon, please-” you pleaded with him, pushing yourself up. “We can have another-”

“There will be no others,” Daemon interrupted, his face growing dark. “I will not allow for more of my children to suffer, not as this one has.”

He looked down at the bundle in his arm, uncannily his expression was numb–stagnant as if he had not been crying over the body moments before. Quietly, he laid the babe in the crib the midwives had prepared, and as he did he spoke:

“You may leave us now maester,” Daemon hummed. “I will come speak with you later.”

“If you are certain, my prince,” the maester spoke, eying you warily as you clung to the sheets of the bed.

“I am certain,” Daemon replied. “Leave us now.”

Bowing his head, the maester left without another word, the door closing behind him and leaving you with Daemon and your son. For a moment, neither of you said anything, and as you stared at his back bent over the crib the fear inside of you dwindled and the grief took over. Tears in your eyes, you reached out a hand, lips dry and cracked you sobbed:

“Daemon….”

Silence. You feared he would not heed your plea as you said his name again; once, twice–finally he stood up, and turned to look at you. Wrapped in the blood stained sheets of the birthing bed, you lifted your hand once more for him to take. You could not discern his expression as he slowly made his way over to you, taking your hand as he finally sat beside you and wrapped his arms around your body. Pressing your face into the warm skin of his neck, you began to sob, hands gripping the fabric of his tunic.

“I’m sorry,” you spoke breathlessly. “I did not mean for any of this to happen.”

“I know,” he replied, tone even as his hand came up to stroke your hair. “I know you did not.”

“I will give you another,” you sniffled, body relaxing into the familiar warmth of his. “I will give you another son and it will be different.”

“Will it?” He hummed, lips pressing into the skin of your forehead, hands shifting down from your hair to your shoulders and then up again to the line of your jaw. “Because I do think it will.”

Frowning, you pulled away to look into his eyes just as his grip tightened on your face: “Daemon?”

Wincing, you tried to pull away, but he stopped you by pressing your body back into the bed with his weight. On top of you now, his fingers gripped the flesh of your cheek as he forced you to still and look at him. There was nothing in his eyes any longer, they were numb and void, as empty as the sockets of your son in the crib.

“Dae-” You tried to speak, hands coming up to grip his wrists. “Daemon, you’re hurting me. Please-”

“I’m sorry,” he bit out, thumbs dragging over the plains of your cheekbones and into the bone under each eye. Gasping, you tried to pull your head away, but Daemon merely followed, thumbs pushing now into the sockets–deeper and deeper. Your cries filled the room as you kicked and flailed, trying to buck him off of you as he continued to say how sorry he was.

This was the only way, the only retribution he saw fit–an eye for an eye.

Blood burst forth from your eyes as he jammed his thumbs in one final time, burying them deep and keeping them there as your cries of pain crescendoed before abruptly cutting off. Your body twitched under his, clinging to the last remnants of life as he stayed atop of you. Only when you finally lay still did he slip off, but he did not leave the bed, instead he laid the length of his body against yours; his arm came up to lay over your belly as he tucked his face into your wet neck, blood falling from the gaping holes where your eyes used to be and sliding down your face into the paleness of his hair.

The fourth and final child you and Daemon lost was a boy; he was never given a name.

#˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐇 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑 :#house of the dragon #hotd #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen one shot

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goldensunflowe-r · 1 year

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Dad Daemon Targaryen Part 2

Masterlist

Part 1

#daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen masterlist #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen x targaryen!reader #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen x pregnant!reader #daemon targeryen x reader #dad!daemon #dad!daemon targaryen x mom!reader #dad!daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen one shot #daemon targaryen fic rec #daemon targaryen fic recs

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rhaenyra-storms · 1 year

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Daemon. Head kisses. Lingering touches. Best fluff ever

Daemon definitely loves to give and receive head kisses. They’re such a simple sign of love and he thinks that all these small things can sometimes make out an entire relationship.

He loves to come up behind you and brush some hair out of your face, giving you a kiss to the forehead and then onto the top of your head. He loves to brush through your hair as he plants kiss after kiss on your head, sometimes whispering sweet nothings in between.

And as someone that is always fighting and always in a conflict somewhere, there is rarely a better sign for comfort and home than a kiss on the head from you. When you brush through his silver hair, sometimes undoing the braid in there, while you kiss his head. He feels loved, appreciated and at home whenever you take your time to plant these protective kisses.

#fluffy fridays #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen blurb #daemon targaryen one shot #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targaryen fic #hotd #hotd blurb #hotd imagine #daemon targaryen headcanons #q

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saltywritings · 2 years

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(in the still of the night | aemond targaryen x strong! reader)

summary: the reader and aemond reconnect at the red keep after years of being apart. it is here the both of you reconnect with the reemerging memories of when the both of you were young. memories in italics.

warnings: mentions of death and murder, betrothal, sexual tension but no smut, yet. cursing?

word count: 3,835 words.

authors note: i do hope you enjoy reading this as much as i have had writing it. please consider reblogging or leaving a comment if you do enjoy. if this does well i will make a second part that will be absolutely filthy.

it was odd to you. the memories that flooded to you so clearly as you walked down the halls of the castle. eyes catching the stained glass windows of dragons, carefully moving up the stone steps as you did as a child. you remembered all the times you tripped down them, bruising your knees chasing after the young prince's. you remembered of how you ran down the halls hiding from them. you remembered sneaking out at night to the kitchens and eating cakes in the gardens under the light of the moon with aemond until your eldest brother dragged you back to your chambers.

yet, it was now as you remembered how close you and aemond had been as children. your eyes catching the garden from within the castle walls.

"y/n! y/n, wait up." aemond's voice rang in your head. nothing more than just a whisper as the two of your crept through the halls. aemond in his sleep shirt and you in your nightgown. if the two of you had not been children the situation would have been frowned upon, heavily. for you more than him considering your status as a lady.

you bare feet slowed as you looked behind you. waiting for an out of breath aemond to catch up. the targaryen prince had been holding a napkin, the cloth tied shut, and his fist holding the knot tightly. aemond took your hand in his own once he reached you, pulling you with him now through the halls and into the gardens. your feet ran against the soft grass and under the godswood. you sat beside the prince, as your little fingers fumbled with the tight knot. aemond helped you untie it and slid himself closer to you. the both of you side by side and your little fingers were pinching at the lemon cake.

"i stole this at dinner," aemond informed you as he shoved some of the cake in his mouth.

"did anyone see you?" you questioned softly, filling your own mouth as you did.

"just aegon-" aemond stopped himself. the boy remembered of how aegon called him a pig for taking more. though, he knew not of the nights that he shared with you, and aemond simply told his older brother to fuck off. "but he doesn't know." aemond assured you.

"good, your brother likes to make the worst of everything. doesn't he?" you remarked rather casually- but aemond had stopped eating. your dark eyes looking up now with regret in your own words. you had known how his brother and his nephews would torment him. aemond told you, here in the gardens, when the both of you were alone. "aemond-" your voice soft, your hand going to meet his again to comfort him.

what little comfort you felt you could offer. you hadn't known it now, but it was the only comfort aemond had ever known.

"it would be different if i too had a dragon." aemond defended himself, his eyes saddened and he looked down to his lap.

"dragons aren't everything, aemond. i don't have a dragon and i'm-" you were trying to comfort him, but the boy was quick to snap again.

"you wouldn't understand y/n- you're just a strong." aemond snapped at you. you closed your mouth and looked away, aemond quickly realizing his mistake in snapping at you and his hands grabbed at yours again. "no, no, y/n. i'm sorry. i didn't mean it in that way" he pleaded with you. his voice near begging you to turn to look at him. his fingers placed at your jaw as you turned to meet his eyes. "i'm a targaryen. we're dragon riders; all of them are but me. and- and its not fair" aemond eventually crumbled. you recalled as tears had begun to run from his eyes. aemond fell into your arms and wept.

"i'm sorry, aemond. i am." you whispered in an attempt to comfort him. your arms wrapped around the crying boy and help him close, he would sniffle and eventually pulled himself together.

"i wish i could take you on dragon back with me. so that way you would understand." aemond pleaded.

"maybe one day you will," you smiled to him and aemond smiled back to you at the very thought.

the sweet moment between the two of you was short lived, as your eldest brother harwin came storming into the garden. you barely had a moment to scramble to your feet before he grabbed onto your arm.

"y/n, how many times have i told you not to be sneaking out with the prince after dark?" harwin questioned you. your face went pale as his dark eyes peered into your own. "keep this up and i'll tell father you need to go back home. to harrenhal." he threatened. you began to resist him, began to plead, but aemond would have none of this.

"ser harwin strong. you will let lady y/n go. your prince demands it." aemond's voice was weak but he knew what to say. harwin, however, looked to the boy debating on what to do. "unhand her or i will tell my mother what you've done here on this night" aemond threatened again.,

harwin let go of your arm in a bit of a gruff, "the king wants the both of you in bed. go on your way or i will tell father, y/n." he demanded. the two of you would run off to your own chambers. but it was far from the last time the both of you had snuck out.

you were only a babe when your father brought you with him to the red keep. his first daughter, the product of his third wife. lyonel strong the newly appointed hand of the king had hoped that the court of the red keep would raise his daughter well. that you would grow in the mannerisms of a lady. lyonel thought this was be good for you. but if he had known of what was to happen he would have never allowed your mother to carry you past the door.

it was there in the red keep that you were raised closely with the kings own children as well as the princess's sons. the seven of you were only children, but even then the tensions had grown. even though you were only a girl you could see it. though, the turmoil's of your life had made you long forget the ones held at the court of the red keep.

your eyes stared at the godswood, reminiscing when you hear someone summon you.

"lady tyrell, it has been too long since you've last visited the red keep." you heard a voice call from behind you, lady tyrell a name you never really adjusted too. behind you was the sight of the queen.

"you grace," you bowed before her, queen alicent. "that it has been," you smiled to her softly.

"you're not with your husband?" she questioned you, her own hands brought together.

"no. lord tyrell is resting from the journey. he does not do well in far travels. even in the carriage." you insisted, giving her a smile to which alicent nodded in understanding.

"well, i do hope you get the chance to properly visit with aemond while you're here. i recall the two of you were good friends all those years ago." alicent spoke very matter of fact, but the mention of aemond was enough to make you smile.

"yes. i recall the same," you hummed. "where is the prince? i do hope our paths may cross before I retire with my husband." you questioned alicent who could not resist the smile that fell on her pale lips.

"aemond? he's off with vhagar, of course." alicent was practically musing.

you never got the privilege to see aemond on a dragon. you heard word at high garden when prince aemond lost his eyes. when he claimed vhagar as his dragon. there had never been a smile on your face like the one you had that day. though, you wished the letter would have been from aemond. for reasons that seemed obvious now aemond never wrote to you and you were never allowed to write to him.

perhaps it had been more obvious to everyone, but the both of you that the two of you were smitten over each other at a young age. perhaps it was the fact you were children, or perhaps it was that each of you lacked the confidence, but neither of you were able to see it yourself. aegon would constantly berate aemond every time he looked longingly in your direction. "can't you be more obvious? looking at y/n like she's a dragon. like looking at things you'll never have?" aegon would taunt constantly. he would get close to you. his hands wrapping around yours as you played just to bother his brother.

but you had never seen it. now, you could look back on your time together and the feeling in your chest grew warm. though the feeling was quickly snuffed out by the reminder of your station. a married woman. your husband was many years your successor and the two of you were yet to conceive a child after all these years together. your marriage to him felt like torture as the years passed on. he was never specifically cruel or vile towards you, not in the way that you heard stories of men hitting their wives or calling them names. but there had been no love in your marriage and you knew that you never would come to love him. for when you looked into his eyes all you could feel was loss. perhaps things could have been different had your father not betrothed you so young.

even that night as you laid next to your sleeping husband under the canopy you were unable to find sleep. you had hoped the journey would be enough to make you rest and yet? your eyes continued to look at the black silk of the canopy curtains. you stood from the bed, pulling on a robe to cover your nightgown, and quietly left the bedroom chambers. you walked along the torches through the halls you would sneak around when you were a child. there was an uneasiness about walking amongst the castle this late. part of you worried that harwin would be around the corner ready to scream at you to go back to your chambers. another part of you feared your own father may come to question why you were out of bed. though, you reminded yourself that was not possible. if anyone were to come for you here it would be larys. your last brother. the one who summoned you and your husband to the red keep in the first place.

it was a cruel thought to think. but you often thought of what your life would have become if your father would have died after your betrothal. if larys would have allowed you to stay there, with him at the red keep. it was a bitter thought. wishing he had been dead sooner, and yet? you thought it often. you didn't want to. in fact you tried not to think of nothing at all. your feet reached the open gardens and you paid no mind to the bitter air that attacked your exposed skin. you tried to look at the godswood, at the flowers in the moon light. anything to not think about your father or harwin. however, at the red keep again the thoughts felt impossible to keep away. you could not begin but to remember of how you cried the day that you found out your father had betrothed you after lord tyrell's first wife had passed. you went crying from the room after begging him and pleading with him to change his mind. to reconsider. but your father had made his decision. he promised you that one day you would thank him for the position he arranged for you. a chuckled slipped your lips, wondering if the time to be thankful would ever come.

"still sneaking away from your chambers at night?" the voice mused on. it was familiar and you could not help the smile that flooded to your lips as your turned around to see behind. before you stood aemond targaryen. taller than you remembered, leaner, his hair long and a patch covering his eye. he had been dressed in black, from head to toe. aemond did not look as you remembered him to look. though you were sure you did not look as he had remembered you either. still, the both of you smiled to one another.

"aemond-" you cheered gleefully. you were quick to rush into his arms. it was not proper of either of you. both knowing anyone could see, that neither of you respected the formalities. that the two of you now stood in the gardens as you did when you were children. his arms wrapped tightly around the frame of your body and your face nuzzled into his chest. you would hold one another for longer than two friends should before creating distance again. you looked up at aemond's face and his eye had been on you and only you. "you've grown-" you remarked, the smile not fading from your lips.

"as have you, y/n" aemond spoke. he reached out, carefully. taking your hand in his own and beginning to pull you along with him gently. "come on, y/n. there's something i want to show you." aemond instructed you. there was a small part of you that knew you shouldn't go with him. that you were a married lady in her night clothes with nothing but a robe to keep your modesty. though you followed aemond, without a second thought. despite what you knew you did not hesitate as aemond led you through the castle and you blindly followed him through the red keep. down the castle stairs and outside beyond the castle walls.

"should we be here, aemond?" you questioned following him blindly into the dark.

"if i told you we weren't would you turn back?" aemond did not as much as look to you he only continued walking.

"never" you confessed.

"then, no. we shouldn't. but i've been waiting years to show you vhagar" aemond continued to lead you through the field but it was easy to see her. the sight of her was near frightening to you. involuntarily your body moved closer to aemond's, the sight of her was frightening, but aemond could not help but to smile as he watched you cower. "it's okay. she won't hurt you when you're with me. i swear it." he reassured you as he approached vhagar.

your eyes took in the dragon before you and aemond was quick to move to the netting that hung from her side. one of his hands gripping onto it as he once again pulled you close to him. "you trust me, don't do you?" aemond questioned his hand bringing yours to the rope.

"yes," you confessed near breathless. it was now that aemond helped you up the dragon's side. him behind you, arms wrapped around grabbing onto the net, as he helped you climb her. when finally up, one of his hands gently held your waist get onto the saddle. aemond quickly pulled himself behind you. both of his hands pulling you from behind in a way that your back was against his chest and his arms were wrapped around your torso as he grabbed the reigns of the dragon. this was the moment that aemond has always wanted to show you, and as vhagar took off he could not contain the smile that made his way to his face as he watched your first ride on a dragon. aemond would take you flying on vhagar, the wind in your hair as you screamed with joy. your robe no longer tied as aemond kept his arms wrapped around you tightly. where aemond took you was unrecognizable to you now. some distant place from kingslanding; perhaps you knew it when you were a child but you had known it no longer now. aemond was quiet at the two of you sat on the ground. his arms were still wrapped around yours and his eye had been looking to you.

"i have missed you, here. y/n . . . " aemond confessed as your eyes looked up to meet his. a soft smile glowing on your lips.

"as i have missed you, my prince" you cooed to him softly, sitting up so that the two of you could be face to face. there was a silence that followed. a feeling that did not go away and it strained your chest and weakened your legs. you felt it when he looked at you the way he did now. aemond's hand cradled your face, pulling you close to him by your jaw, and without asking he pressed his lips onto yours. you kissed him back, your soft subtle lips that fought against his own. his hand grabbing onto the neckline of your nightgown as he begun to pull at it, exposing the skin of your shoulder. the sudden feeling of your duty flooding you through the mess of passionate kisses the two of you were ingulfed in.

"wait, wait- aemond we shouldn't do this." you attempted to stop what was unfolding before you. aemond kissed you again, and once again you kissed him back. your eyes closed before pulling yourself from his lips again. a nearly impossible task. "no, aemond. i'm married. i have a husband-" you pleaded.

the very mention of your husband was enough to make his blood boil. his face went cold for a moment as aemond remembered when he had found out about your betrothal. you were only given a day to pack your belongings and leave for high garden.

aemond remembered how your father had pulled his sobbing daughter away from the prince. he too had been in tears at the announcement. it was the last time he had seen you. being dragged by your father as you sobbed. the image of you in tears stuck in his mind as the years passed. you hadn't known this; your father never told you, and aemond never got the chance to, but the moment your father dragged you away aemond went running in tears to his mother. the youngest born prince burst into her room and ran to her. alicent's arms opened immediately and frantically.

"what is it? what happened, aemond? tell me-" alicent went frantic. she had never seen aemond so upset before and she worried that someone had been hurt.

"he betrothed her- y/n. lynoel strong. he betrothed her to the lord of high garden. he- he-" aemond was sobbing and alicent's arms were quick to wrap around her son. she had known what everyone around the castle had known. if anything she was waiting for this day to come and she rubbed her sons back as he wept into her chest.

"oh, aemond." alicent sighed. the queen paused attempting to gather some kind of comfort for her youngest son. "there comes a time in every young girls life when she must be betrothed. to become a wife." alicent begun to give her speech but aemond begun to push her back his face now red and flushed with anger.

"mother. no- i'm not upset about her being betrothed. i just-" aemoond stopped himself for a second before finally letting it out. "she should have been betrothed to me! not some lord of high garden. a rose? we're dragons- why not me?" aemond was sobbing again. "is it because i'm not the first born son?" he questioned tears in his eyes again. "is it because i don't have a dragon?" aemond wept again.

"no no, aemond. that's not why, darling" alicent quickly tried to scoop up her son, but he pushed her away the moment she came in contact with him. "aemond, please- i know she is your friend-" alicent hardly got a chance to get her words out before aemond interrupted her again.

"she's not just my friend." aemond spoke up, feeling a need to make his message clear on how important this was to him. "she's the only person in this whole bloody castle who treats me like i'm not wrothless." aemond spat out through his own sobs. alicent looked with sympathetic eyes. unsure what she had the power to do and in turn, she caved.

"i will offer lord strong a marriage proposal for her hand in place of lord tyrell. do you understand?" alicent attempted to clean her son's face. aemond would nod finally accepting his mothers arms again.

alicent would make the proposal to lynoel strong. y/n strong and prince aemond targaryen, to be wed in a few years time. but your father denied it without consideration. he did not waiver. he did not even give her a reasonable doubt. instead, lynoel sent you away to high garden and you watched, weeping out of a carriage window unaware that aemond was even an option for you. aemond, however, had known that some day you would return to him. if it were by the hands of the gods or his own hand.

now you were in his arms and there had only been one problem. your husband. something aemond thought about long before you arrived. "y/n. your husbands dead-" aemond informed you, he did not waiver. not once as he spoke. a look of confusion consumed your features.

"aemond . . ." you trailed off in your own confusion. "what are you talking about?" you questioned him brows furrowed together.

"he's gone, y/n. dead. that fat fool was smothered in his bed." aemond informed you without mercy. without remorse. still you looked at him in confusion, horror- unsure on how to process what aemond was saying to you.

"aemond. did you- did you have my husband killed?" you asked bluntly. there had been no mannerism that could have asked what you were asking him now. what you had already known. aemond smiled.

"obviously. hadn't you wondered why larys requested that the both of you come to kings landing? come on, y/n. i know after all these years at high garden you haven't become daft. i never stopped thinking about you." aemond confessed, his hand returned to your jaw and gently pulled you in closer to him. eye to eye, nose to nose. "even the largest dragon in the world could not fill the hole that you left behind." he confessed, his breath hot on your face.

"say you'll marry me. we'll set things right. say you'll marry me and be my wife. marry me and carry my heirs. say it, y/n." aemond was practically pleading with you. but the pleading had not been necessary. aemond had you wrapped around his finger.

"i'll marry you-"

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond one eye #prince aemond #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x helaena targaryen #aemond targaryen one shot #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen smut #house of the dragon #house of the dragon smut #house of the dragon angst #house of the dragon x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon targeryen x reader

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dragons-and-handcuffs · 6 months

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Daemon Targaryen x male/nephew!reader

You are the heir. The eldest son of Viserys and older brother of Rhaenyra.

You and your uncle always had a close bond. It was Daemon who was present when you claimed your dragon. It was Daemon who taught you how to fight. It was Daemon who you always look up to.

Others didn't like how close you were with him but neither you or Daemon cared.

Daemon was away for a while but came back for your namesday. As a gift he gave you a valerian steel sword that is just fit for a king and also took you to the best brothel in kings landing. He paid for the best and exotic whores and you both shared them.

By the end the boundaries between you and Daemon vanished. Daemon was proud of the man you have become and wanted to reward you. You were willingly on your knees as he took you from behind.

You two often visited the brothels for the next few months. You two always teaming up in the council and always go to war together.

When you got married you happily shared your wife with Daemon. Your wife didn't have any complaints, in fact she enjoys it. Your will come to the room to find Daemon fucking your wife or she will come and find Daemon fucking you.

Imagine you and Daemon fucking right after winning a war, with bloods and all.

When you became king everyone advised you to kick Daemon out of the council but instead you made him your hand. He is your uncle after all and he deserves the respect and the power

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hisfavegiri · 15 days

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"Father, I want you to crown Aegon as your heir."

Everyone at the council table fell silent and looked at Rhaenyra in surprise, including Otto and Alicent. Viserys choked on his wine, he looked at his daughter in disbelief. Rhaenyra took a deep breath before she looked at her father's face.

"I realize that the realm will not agree if a queen sits on the iron throne"

She knew very well that if one day she ascended the throne, many would oppose her and there would be war. because the situation had changed when Aegon was born, the son the king had longed for.

"However, before that I want to give you one condition."

Otto and Alicent looked at Rhaenyra carefully, feeling happy and anxious at the same time. Viserys was just silent and listened to every word his daughter said.

"I want to marry my daughter, y/n to Aegon."

a little sneak peak🫣

#aegon ii targaryen #hotd #hotd imagine #hotd smut #hotd aemond #hotd alicent #hotd one shot #aegon ii fanfic #prince aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #rhaenyra targaryen #hotd rhaenyra #alicent hightower #king aegon #aemond targaryen #daemon targaryen

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witcher-and-henry-cavill-stuff · 4 months

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𝔈𝔫𝔳𝔦𝔬𝔲𝔰 ℌ𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱

𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤: Jealous Rhaenyra, Daemon x niece reader, Incest, reader's pregnant with Daemon's baby.

The sun was setting over the Red Keep, casting a warm glow on the city of King's Landing. Inside the castle, the royal family was gathering for dinner. Daemon, the handsome and charismatic prince, sat at the head of the table, his wife and niece, Y/N, by his side. They had been married for just over a year, and Y/N was now pregnant with their first child.

As the feast began, Rhaenyra Y/N's mother, entered the room. She was known for her beauty and her fierce love for her family. But tonight, there was a darkness in her eyes that sent shivers down Y/N's spine. Rhaenyra took her seat at the opposite end of the table, her gaze never leaving Y/N.

As the evening went on, Y/N couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that had settled in her stomach. Rhaenyra's behavior was becoming more and more erratic, and she seemed to be glaring at Y/N with hatred and jealousy. Y/N knew that Rhaenyra had always been fiercely protective of her husband, but she never expected her own mother to turn against her.

When the feast ended, Y/N excused herself and made her way to her chambers. She could feel Rhaenyra's eyes following her, and she couldn't help but feel a sense of dread. As she entered her room, she found Rhaenyra waiting for her, a wicked smile on her lips.

'Mother, what is the matter?' Y/N asked, trying to hide the fear in her voice.

Rhaenyra's smile widened. 'You, my dear. You are the matter. How dare you steal my uncle's love and bear his child? You are nothing but a pawn in his game.'

Y/N was taken aback by Rhaenyra's words. She had always known that her marriage to Daemon was unconventional, but she never imagined her own mother would see her as a threat. But before she could respond, Rhaenyra's hand shot out and grabbed Y/N's wrist tightly.

'You will not bear his child. I will not let you,' Rhaenyra hissed, her grip tightening.

Y/N's eyes widened in horror as she realized what Rhaenyra was planning. She was going to harm Y/N and her unborn child. Without thinking, Y/N pushed Rhaenyra away and ran to her chambers, locking the door behind her. She could hear Rhaenyra banging on the door, demanding to be let in.

Y/N's heart was racing as she looked around her room, trying to come up with a plan. She knew she couldn't stay in her chambers, but she also couldn't leave the safety of the castle. Suddenly, she remembered the secret passage that led to Daemon's chambers.

With trembling hands, Y/N opened the hidden door and made her way through the dark tunnels. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she could feel the baby kicking inside her. She prayed that Daemon would be in his chambers and that he would protect her and their child.

As Y/N entered Daemon's chambers, she was greeted by the sight of her husband, sitting by the fireplace, lost in thought. She ran to him and collapsed into his arms, tears streaming down her face.

'Y/N, what is the matter?' Daemon asked, concern etched on his face as he held her tight.

'It's mother. She...she wants to harm our child,' Y/N sobbed, her body shaking with fear.

Daemon's face hardened as he pulled away from Y/N and looked into her eyes. 'I will not let anyone harm you or our child. I swear it on my life,' he said, determination in his voice.

Y/N couldn't help but feel a surge of love for her husband. She knew that he would protect them no matter what. But she also knew that they couldn't stay in the castle any longer. Rhaenyra would not stop until she got what she wanted.

Together, Y/N and Daemon made their escape from the Red Keep, leaving behind the treacherous world of the Targaryen's. They found a new home in Dragonstone, far away from the chaos and danger of King's Landing. And there, surrounded by love and safety, Y/N gave birth to a healthy baby boy, their firstborn. He was named Maegor, after Maegor the first.

As they looked at their child, Y/N couldn't help but feel grateful for Daemon's love and protection. And as for Rhaenyra, she was never seen or heard from again. But Y/N knew that her mother's love for Daemon would always burn bright, and she couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity for the woman who had lost everything to her own jealousy.

#x reader #reader insert #daemon targaryen x reader #pregnant reader #Daemon Targaryen x pregnant reader #Daemon Targaryen x niece reader #HOTD #one shot #imagine #Jealousy #rhaenyra targaryen #Jealous Rhaenyra Targaryen

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happilyhertale · 1 year

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Welcome to my page 💙

About me: I'm Vanessa (please never call me Vanny), my pronouns are she/her. I'm in my 30s and a professional fangirl. My main account is @schniiipsel.

I only write in my spare time - but I love losing myself in writing! I write for the Ewan Mitchell characters Aemond Targaryen, Tom Bennett, Osferth and Ettore, as well as Daemon Targaryen. Feel free to ask me anything! 🖤

This blog is for over 18s only! All others please leave this account at this point.

Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen

Daemon Targaryen

Tom Bennett

Osferth

Ettore

12 Days of Smuff

Currently writing Steamy

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dedicatednotobsessed · 1 year

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Young and Beautiful [Daemon Targaryen x Fem!Reader]

Other HOTD stories [requests open]

Summary: Being the younger daughter of Viserys Targaryen you had grown up in the capital alongside your sister Rhaenyra and the lady Alicent Hightower. The older you got, the closer you have became with the King’s elder brother and rightful heir, Daemon Targaryen. Your father does not like you being so close with him, yet you choose not to listen especially one night when the Rogue Prince promises to grant you freedom….

Dedicated to ✨ @mrsdaemontargaryen ✨

Gif doesn’t belong to me 🖤

You hummed a small tune as you sat at the garden table, your violet eyes scanning over the small text of your red leather bound book. You needed a break from your lessons and decided to come to the gardens where the only noise to be heard was the flowing water of the nearby fountain.

Your mind was swirling with thoughts as you furrowed your brows. It had been close to a year since your Uncle Daemon- or nuncle as you liked to call him- was exiled from the capital. He used to write to you every so often before the letters suddenly stopped all together.

“There you are!”

The familiar voice pulled you from your thoughts and you sighed at the sight of your elder sister. “I just needed to get away for a moment.”

“You need to find a better hiding spot, sweet one.”

You smiled over at Rhaenyra as she sat beside you. Being the only surviving children of King Viserys and Queen Aemma, the two of you seemed to have a close bond. It was true how close you were, yet the two of you always fought for your Uncle’s attention. It was clear he had a favorite niece though.

“Are you excited to be marrying Ser Laenor?” You asked after a moment.

Rhaenyra blew out a breath and nodded. “It is the duty of my house.”

You fiddled with the Valyrian steel ring on your left ring finger; the finger that was promised to your husband. The ring that nestled on said finger was a gift from Daemon the last time he was visiting. You remembered when he gifted it to you and how your heart fluttered as he slipped it onto your finger.

A promise he said it was. A promise that you were to be his when the opportunity presents itself.

“You are quite lucky, Y/N.”

“Hm?” You cocked a brow at your elder sister. “I do not know what you mean.”

“You have not been subjected to the torture that is truly trying to find a suitable husband,” Rhaenyra replied, her violet eyes wandering to your ring.

She hid the envy in her voice but you could see the flames of jealousy in her eyes. When you first showed her the Valyrian steel ring, she did not talk to you for the better part of three days.

You blew out a breath. “Soon after you marry Ser Laenor, I am sure father would force me to find someone…or worse, choose for me.”

Rhaenyra reached over and grabbed your hand, squeezing it lightly. “Enjoy your freedom while you can, my sweet baby sister.”

You smiled lightly and reached over giving her a tight hug. “Do not be so sad that you are going to get married,” You began while slowly pulling away from the hug. “Just think of how good the food is going to be tonight.”

Rhaenyra giggled at that. “Thank you, Y/N.”

You hummed a bit as you looked through your jewelry while your handmaiden helped you with your dress for the feast. You reached down lightly running your fingers through the silky red fabric.

“Is there anything else you needed, my princess?”

You shook your head with a small smile. “Thank you, Madelyne.”

Madelyne bowed and made her exit. You turned back to your long view mirror, flaring your dress a bit. It was a present from Alicent on your last name day. You had no ill will against your stepmother although your friendship with her has become a bit strained since she married your father.

“I said you could go, Madelyne,” You said hearing the door open again after a moment.

“Why would I leave? I wanted to see my favorite niece.”

You gasped hearing the familiar voice and turned to see your Uncle standing there, his silver hair cut short since last you’ve seen him. You rushed over and gave him a tight hug.

“I did not expect you to come!” You exclaimed while releasing the hug.

“I am not going to miss my brother’s feasts.” Daemon stepped back to look over you, a satisfied smirk on his lips. “You look lovely, Y/N. Red is certainly your color.”

You felt your cheeks heat up at the compliment, the butterflies erupting in your stomach. “Thank you, Uncle.”

Daemon nodded a bit, his violet eyes scanning over your body once more. “Well, I will see you at the feast, my sweet niece.”

You looked down at the food on your plate, a bit bored. The lords and ladies that appeared for Rhaenyra’s engagement feast seemed to be too deep into conversation with the guests of honor to take notice of the rest of the Royal family. Your eyes wandered over to your Uncle who has not taken his eyes off of you since he has made his grand entrance. It was clear your father did not expect him to show up, but he was welcomed nonetheless.

You turned away as you heard the music begin to play, a small smile on your lips seeing how happy Rhaenyra seemed. You knew she did not want this kind of life but being a Princess of the Seven Kingdoms, one’s fate was written for them when they were born a girl.

You stood up and walked towards the dance floor when others began to join the betrothed couple. You offered the Lord you paired with a small smile as you placed your hand against his.

The Lord looked over you with a certain lust in his eyes, a smirk forming on his lips. “It is true what they say about Targaryen beauty,” He began while turning around you. “That Targaryen women are more beautiful than the Gods themselves.”

“Have you been preparing that line the entire day?” You asked curiously with a cocked brow. “In hopes to sway me into wetting your cock?”

The Lord’s smirk faltered as you turned with him. You knew your father would scold you for such behavior, although he seemed to be a bit more occupied with his favorite daughter- as you often liked to called Rhaenyra.

You turned to your next partner, a wide smile coming on your lips to see Daemon looking into your matching violet eyes.

“Here I thought my lovely Uncle did not dance,” You teased.

Daemon chuckled lightly with a small smirk. “I make certain exceptions.”

“Exceptions?” You repeated with a raised brow.

Daemon turned you, your dress flaring as you spun. “I make exceptions for such beauties.”

Your cheeks heated lightly at his words and even more when your body pressed against his. You met his eyes noticing there was something in them…you just could not figure out what it was. You felt him place a hand on your waist, your stomach erupting into flutters. It was as though it was only the two of you in the feasting hall.

You slowed to a stop in the middle of the dance floor, his hand coming up to your cheek. Your heart skipped a beat as you lightly placed a hand over his. You did not understand what this feeling was…what kind of hold the Rogue Prince had on you.

You snapped back into reality when you heard a blood curdling scream and turned to see Ser Criston Cole over a body with a face not even recognizable. You tried to rush over to your sister who was clearly frightened but Daemon had a tight grip on your hand.

“We need to go,” Daemon whispered in your ear before he led you away from the chaos.

You looked around the crowded street of Fleabottom as you stayed close to your Uncle. It was as though the men and women had no same, some in corners pleasing each other in various ways.

“Where are we going?” You asked looking up at Daemon.

The elder man glanced around a corner before he looked back down at you. “You will see, sweet one.”

You took a deep breath but nodded, looking down when he squeezed your hand, feeling a sense of comfort from it. You glanced around as he pulled you into a building nearby. You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander over the various couples: women with women, men with men. Some even had multiple partners, but no one seemed to judge. Everyone was free.

“What are we doing here?”

“I wanted you to experience freedom,” Daemon began as he gripped your waist. “Before I am to leave and you are subjected to the same fate as your sister.”

You felt your back press against the stone wall, your eyes wandering up to meet his. You lightly placed your hands on his chest while he ran his thumb across your bottom lip. Your eyes flickered to his lips as he slowly leaned down.

As soon as his lips crashed against yours, fireworks seemed to go off in your stomach. Your lips moved in sync, his hands going to the back of your dress to undo your laces.

Tales have differed of this night. Some have believed that the Princess had fallen with child from the Prince but has wallowed in grief when he married Laena Velaryon. She drove herself to madness from the heartbreak and her heart failed her shortly after she had birthed a son, an heir for the Prince by the name of Alyster Targaryen.

The more believable tale however is that the Princess did not pass after the birth of Alyster, and it is proven to be true when the records had shown the Prince and Princess have wed. It is said that they rekindled their romance at the funeral of Daemon’s second wife. Their love was set aflame during that night in Fleabottom and the fire did not snuff out, no matter their hardships. They were meant to burn together and kept that promise as they fought together through the Targaryen Civil War. Their bond was strong, by love and by fire, and nothing ever stopped them.

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authurials · 1 year

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𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐋.

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 . you bring your parents home a christmas present in the form of your boyfriend, daemon targaryen

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 . 18+ situations ( MINORS DNI ! ), sexual situations/intercourse, oral sex (male receiving), slight praise kink if you squint, strong language

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 . here is day two of my 12 days of house of the dragon celebration! a little modern!au with professor!daemon x student!reader; honestly he’s a bit....ooc in my opinion but i was on a bit of a time crunch to get this one out--running a tad behind with work and life in general, but i’m determined to keep to my posting schedule (unless something really prevents me from writing); let me know your thoughts--your response was awesome to day one! make sure you keep tuning in because next up is part one of my stepdad!harwin modern!au miniseries

“𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑 𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐄,” your boyfriend, a silver-haired man of forty-eight, rolled his eyes as you once again checked your updo in the small compact mirror in your hand. “Now, stop fidgeting.”

“Fine, fine,” you sigh, tucking it once more in your bag as you adjust its position on your shoulder; you step up to the door and lift your hand to knock–hesitating. “....what if we just went to get chinese with Rhae and Harwin? I’m sure it’s not too–”

Reaching past you, Daemon wrapped his hand against the door before you could stop him, causing you to freeze in horror at what he had just done; from inside the house you could already hear the family dog, Urrax, sounding the alarm from within followed by the scolding tone of your mother. You already could hear both approaching the door to greet the guests–you and Daemon–and it took all your willpower and him taking your hand to stop you from bolting. Feeling him give you a comforting squeeze, you looked up into his face and raised a pale brow at you.

“What have you done?” You groan, leaning against his arm for extra support just as the door swings open in front of you.

The bells from the Christmas wreath that hung over the window beat against each other, shrilly ringing as they are drowned out by your mother’s excited greeting.

“My baby!” She exclaimed, immediately pulling you into the warmth of her embrace and holding you there for several moments; it allowed you if but for a moment to forget your earlier anxiety, tucking it in a corner for now as you let yourself wrap your arms around her frame in reply. All the while Urrax was at your feet, switching between excitedly waiting for your acknowledgement and sniffing cautiously at the unfamiliar man before him; only with your beloved canine’s approval would Daemon be permitted to enter the home–or at least that’s what your mom liked to let him believe. “Come in, come in–you two must be freezing! How was the drive from the city?”

Your mom was pulling you in before you could even get out an answer, and since your other hand was still death gripped in Daemon’s he was tugged along for the journey. At least she allowed you enough time to stop at the coat rack and peel off the layers of winter wear you had been subjected to only to still somehow remain freezing cold. As you unwrapped your scarf, face rosy from the wind, you hummed:

“It was alright; Daemon drove my car because dad got me those snow tires.”

“See? And you didn’t want to take him up on those….”

“Mom–” You sighed. “I just didn’t want you guys spending any more money on me.”

“Nonsense, you’re our only baby–aside from you, Urrax,” she threw in for the dog’s benefit, as if he could somehow understand them; he simply panted happily at the mention of his name, probably expecting some sort of treat. “Who else are we going to spend it on? Now, you–”

She looked pointedly at Daemon who was peeling off his black coat, stopping with one arm still in as he looked between you and your mother. You offered him no out; this had been his plan after all–wanting to meet your parents finally after nearly six months of dating. It wasn't that you didn’t want your parents to get to know the guy you were seeing, but you weren’t blind to the possibility of their opposition due to the age gap–among other things.

“Let me get a good look at you,” your mother continued, stepping close so she could get a better look at Daemon’s face; still paused in that same stance, arm tucked in one sleeve of the coat while the other held it up, your boyfriend offered your mother a devilishly handsome smile.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” he hummed cordially–or as cordial as Daemon could be.

“Hmmm,” was your mother’s only response, eyes looking up and down in that overly critical way she used on all the other moms on the PTA board, “Damion was it?”

“Mom--” you hissed, ears flushing from embarrassment rather than the cold this time.

“What? Is his name Damion or not?” She exclaimed, feigning innocence.

“It’s quite alright–it’s a bit of a unique spelling,” Daemon smiled, though you could see the fire he hid well in his eyes. “It’s actually, Daemon ma’am–Daemon Targaryen.”

“Oh, Targaryen!” Your mother’s eyes widened, recognizing the name. “Like the Targaryens from that fancy steel factory?”

“Correct,” Daemon’s smile had turned into a smirk, and you hid your laughter behind a smile as you finally turned away from them to kneel and greet Urrax; the beast thanked you for your attentions with gross smelling slobber-ladened kisses on your face and hands.

“Where’s dad?” You asked breathlessly as you gently pushed his face away from yours with a laugh.

“In the den, watching that damn It’s a Wonderful for the umpteenth time,” you could hear the roll of her eyes in the tone of her voice. “Couldn’t even pull him away from the recliner to help with dinner; we’re having your favorite by the way–I hope it’s not cold. We were expecting you an hour ago….”

“Well it is snowing, mom,” brushing off the jab, you rise to your full height and turn back to them; your eyes flick to Daemon, who is watching you carefully.

“I know, I know,” she waved dismissively, brushing past you and towards the den area. “Now come on–he’s been dying to meet your fella; hope you’re ready for a hundred and twenty questions, Daemon.”

“Certainly,” he chuckled, arm coming to wrap around your waist and tucking you into his side as he guided the pair of you to follow the woman.

Sighing, you let him be your strength as your head falls to his chest, “it’s not too late to run….”

You say it low enough so your mother won’t hear, already yelling at your father to turn off the TV before she even enters the room. Daemon simply laughs again, leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of your head as his hand gives your hip a firm squeeze. Biting your lip, you tilt your head up to press a kiss of your own against the strong square of his jaw, letting your nose graze the skin there before your gaze falls back down through the doorway. Already you can hear your father heaving himself out of his chair as he and your mother argue over the TV, George Bailey’s iconic speech humming in the background.

“Now where did you put the remote?” Your mother groaned, passing in view before disappearing to the other side of the den. Daemon and you stopped in the doorway as you both peered in, assessing the situation before you interrupted what could end up being one of your parents’ infamous holiday fights.

Without fail on high stress seasonal celebrations like Thanksgiving and Christmas, where tensions ran high, your chronically on the cusp of divorce parents ended up in some ridiculous and avoidable argument that burned brightly and fizzled out just as quickly; by the time dessert was served they were usually back to their amicable albeit annoying selves, and your appetite for food and celebration was ruined for the rest of the night.

“It’s in the chair cushions, mom,” you interjected, wanting to avoid such an instant this year as it was yours and Daemon’s first official holiday with each other; you had skipped out on having Thanksgiving together last month after an argument about the very thing you were doing at your parents’--introducing him as your boyfriend. You had met pretty much every member of his immediate family, which was saying something considering there were a lot of them; he had even introduced you to the daughters he’d had with his late wife, Laena, already. And although it had gone about as good as could be expected, at least he had taken that initiative and wasn’t trying to hide your relationship; honestly, it was hot how much he loved showing you off, it was one of your favorite things about him–his confidence in his decisions, the way he never second guessed himself.

If only you could say the same.

“Like it always is,” you tacked on as you moved away from Daemon’s side and brushed past your father, hand coming up to pat him on the back as you leaned forward and dug through either side of the broken in recliner he had had since the father’s day of the year you turned five; you remembered how excited you had been when you had given your mom the five dollars from one of your teeth–believing it all the money in the world, or at least enough to get that chair your dad was eying out of a La-Z-Boy catalog that came in the mail.

Gripping the remote in hand, you pulled it from between where it was stuck and held it out to your mom, waving it as you gave her a knowing expression. Rolling her eyes, she huffed as she reached out and grabbed it, pointing it at the TV a moment before it finally cut George Bailey off and went dark.

“See? She always blames these things on me,” your dad snorted, a vision in his trademark plaid button up and the brown leather belt that adorned every pair of jeans he’d ever worn..

“Well it technically was your fault it ended up under your ass, dad,” you defended.

“Language,” your mother huffed, and as always you and your dad shared an eye roll.

“Enough with the nagging,” your father hummed, growing serious–or as serious as he ever got–as he turned to Daemon who still stood in the doorway taking in the scene before him. You realized how odd it must be, to be an outsider looking in, at least that’s how you had often felt when initially meeting his family; they had been great about making you feel included at least, except for Baela and Rhaena, and even then they still made it a point to be civil for their dad’s sake after he made it clear you made him happy. “You’re the boyfriend, I presume?”

“Yes,” he pushed off the side of the doorway and stepped forward, raising his hand for your father to shake–it was more than any of your other boyfriends had done in the past. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet both you and your wife.”

“Hm,” was your father’s response, a moment or two passing before he finally grabbed Daemon’s hand and shook it; something seemed to transpire as his critical gaze softened and he smiled. “Well, I’m glad my daughter finally brought you for a visit. She’s told us a bit about you, but I’m eager to hear more.”

“Of course,” Daemon let his hand drop back to his side.

“Now let’s get settled at the table before you begin your interrogation,” your mother playfully scolded her husband. “I already got the table all set and everything; I hope you like roast, Daemon….”

“Sounds delicious,” he hummed, once more falling into step beside you, hand on the small of your back as you followed your parents into the adjoining open concept dining room/kitchen combo.

“It was one of her favorites growing up,” your mother continued, tossing a thumb your way over her shoulder. “We couldn’t have a ham or a turkey, no–it had to be a nice roast with some of that honey barbeque glaze that was her grandmother’s recipe.”

You all settled at the table–you and Daemon on one side, your parents on the other–as your mother prattled on about hams and glazes and the one time you puked halfway digested roast up on the new carpet after getting the flu really bad when you were thirteen. Biting your tongue, you felt Daemon find your hand under the table, squeezing it tightly as your mom pulled the cover off the platter with the roast on it; your dad was already reaching for his piece when your mother stopped him:

“Prayer first.”

Daemon caught your eye and you could see the distaste clearly painted on his face, knowing that he wasn’t particularly fond of religious practices that fell under the Faith of the Seven; his own family were split in their belief systems, his older brother’s second wife converting him over to the Seven while Daemon and his niece Rhaenyra stayed within the traditions of Old Valyria the Targaryens were known for. Personally, you weren’t religious at all, and neither were your parents who had raised you with an open mind to religion but had no expectations for you to follow a particular faith; your mom only threw out that prayer stuff on the holidays and only when you had guests.

Both you and Daemon bowed your heads, exchanging slightly bemused looks as your mother began the prayer. It was as awkward and hilarious as to be expected, your mother thanking the Seven for bringing the both of you there safely that night and for blessing the food you were about to eat. Then of course she blessed your dad and Urrax who had found himself back inside after disappearing through the backroom doggy door; he was now begging at your father’s feet–the weakest link among your defense when it came to resisting puppy dog eyes.

“And Seven, if you could just make it to where I could be at the top of the phone tree at the next neighborhood watch meeting, that would be appreciated,” your mother tacked on. “In your name we pray, thank you.”

“Thank you,” you held back a snort as Daemon rubbed a hand over his mouth, stifling laughter.

“Dig in!” Your mother exclaimed, grabbing two rolls.

Your father wasted no time in claiming the biggest slice of roast for himself as you covered almost half of your plate in the potatoes that had simmered alongside it. Tossing Urrax a sympathy carrot–you hated steamed carrots–you glanced over at Daemon’s plate which had a little bit of everything on it. Smiling, you nudged him before grabbing your fork and spearing one of the potatoes, popping it in your mouth; initially it was a mistake, the morsel unbearably warm as you rolled it around for a few moments while it cooled down.

“So Daemon,” your father began, swallowing his first bite of roast and green bean casserole combo, “what are your intentions with our daughter?”

It was brutally cliche and your father knew it by the look of the humorous smile playing on his lips, one Daemon shared as he chuckled and set down his fork.

“Well,” he cleared his throat, “we’re just seeing where things go for now–no definitive plans, no expectations.”

You nodded in agreement, the both of you having made what you wanted and needed from the relationship clear from the start. Daemon was a man nearing his fifties, he had long since sowed his wild oats and was a father of two grown adults, he had no need to play games with any of the women he pursued. And for that you were thankful, because otherwise you didn’t think things would’ve ever worked out for as long as they had; he was the first guy you had ever dated that was in the same age bracket as your father–all your other boyfriends born within the same decade as you–and at first you had feared it would be an obstacle you wouldn’t be able to get over but Daemon had been patient although determined for you to at least give him a chance before you completely wrote him off.

“Good, good,” your father nodded in agreement, “because you know we fully expect her to finish college first before any of that settling down nonsense right?”

“Dad, come on,” you sighed, pushing your food around your plate as heat rose in your cheeks.

“We just worry that those four years of college and the time you’ve already put into graduate school will go to waste,” your mother interjected. “It was an awful lot of money, sweetheart.”

“Well I don’t plan on getting pregnant or eloping in Vegas, so you can rest easy, alright?” You dropped a piece of gristly meat on the floor for Urrax to scarf down.

“We’re just asking,” she held up her hands in defense.

You felt Daemon’s hand on your thigh, the pad of his thumb stroking in the same pattern as he periodically gave it a squeeze. Glancing at him, you saw that he was facing forward, seemingly giving your parents his full attention as you all tabled the discussion of him potentially ruining your future.

“How old are you again, Daemon?” your mother led with the next line of questioning, putting you further on edge.

“I’ll be forty-nine this coming spring,” he answered with ease, no shame evident in his tone.

“Goodness, you certainly don’t look your age then,” she complimented, neither her nor your father showing any concern at the gap.

Of course, you hadn’t expected them to react too badly to that aspect of your relationship; you had been clear from the start that there was quite a bit of a gap between Daemon and you. They had taken it with some relative uneasiness at first until you assured them that proper boundaries to protect yourself had been put in place right from the start.

“And we were told that you teach,” your father joined in, scooping up the scraps of his food and holding it on his fork as he continued, “are you a grade school teacher? Or high school?”

“I’m actually a professor,” Daemon explained. “I chair the history department at King’s Landing University.”

Your university.

“Oh,” was all your mother said, before wiping her mouth off with her napkin and composing herself. “What kinds of classes do you offer?”

You knew she was digging, deeper and deeper, so that she may connect the dots of the secret you had held so close all those months. And if you could hold it close just a bit longer you would, but this had been Daemon’s wish when he had requested you both spend Christmas together at your parents’ house. He didn’t want to hide the truth any longer if there was any hope of this continuing past the six month probationary period the both of you had agreed on in the beginning, and neither did you truly; but facing your parents and their scrutiny was also not something you particularly desired either.

“Mostly ones on Ancient Civilizations,” he replied. “The traditions and cultures of places like Essos and Pentos; I spent much of my earlier studies traveling and writing about them and then of course Old Valryia. My family is rumored to date all the way back to its fall, and growing up I found the prospect quite fascinating–so I decided to make a career out of it.”

“Didn’t you take one of those ancient civilization courses last semester?” Your father asked, not seeming to be connecting the dots just yet as he went for a second slice of roast. By the look on your mother’s face, however, you knew that she had come to the conclusion straight away, fork hanging limply from her hand with a stray green bean that Urrax sniffed at from her side.

“I did….” You gulped, licking your lips as you reached down to lay your hand over Daemon’s; he turned his palm upwards, entwining your fingers together. “Ancient Civilizations of the Old World: The Valyria Chapter….Daemon’s class.”

Your eyes flicked between your parents, mom pale faced as she processed what she’d already known and your father still chewing, though the movement of his jaw slowed visibly and a frown curved his lips as he too began to process what you had just said. For a moment, you fooled yourself into believing that everything would be okay and this was just the initial shock, they wouldn’t really care that much, right? That was until your dad’s fork slammed down on the table and he swallowed his bite, jaw tense as he looked between you and Daemon.

“You two met….in his class?” Your mother asked breathlessly, setting her fork down with more decorum than your father had. “He-He’s your professor?”

“He was,” you clarified, “but he’s not anymore. I made sure I didn’t take any of his classes this semester after we made things official–”

“As if that somehow makes it better,” your father cut you off.

“Dad–” you sighed, expecting the pushback; an age gap you could rationalize to your parents, dating your professor? That wouldn’t be as easy. They were very by the book, your parents, particularly when it came to company politics and procedures, and the golden rule they lived by was that you didn’t date your co-workers–especially if they outranked you. It not only complicated things in their opinion, but it was also unethical for a superior to date someone who was under them because it created an unsettling power balance. And you understood that in some instances of students dating their professors that power imbalance did occur, you were just lucky that that hadn’t been your experience with Daemon.

“It just isn’t right,” your mother shook her head, “for a professor to date one of their students. You must understand that, Mr. Targaryen.”

Oh, now they were on a last name basis–this wasn’t good.

“I understand your concerns,” Daemon hummed, “and trust that they were addressed early on between your daughter and I, but I would never jeopardize my career or her academic future in such a way.”

“But you have by even continuing to see her,” your dad argued. “Even if she isn’t in one of your classes, she’s still a student at the college you work for.”

“Yes, however we both keep our personal lives very separate from the university,” he continued, standing firm in his words. “Your daughter only has two more semesters left, so we see no need to worry; once she has graduated we can make our relationship more public so as to not put either of us in an uncomfortable position.”

“You must see how unethical and even immoral this is,” your mother continued to push before looking at you. “Honey–”

“Daemon has never allowed his private feelings to impact his treatment of me in class,” you defended him. “And now that I’m not on his roster it’s easy for us to keep those parts of our life separate. I understand that this isn’t conventional and it might even be inappropriate but….fuck! I don’t care, okay? I just really don’t and if you can’t accept that then that’s fine–well, not really, but I’m not going to let it affect my relationship. Daemon and I will continue to see each other no matter what you have to say.”

You didn’t dare look at Daemon, too fearful that it would cause you to falter in your words, but you could feel his stare burning into the side of your face; a part of you didn’t even have to look to know that it was an expression of pride he wore as you relaxed back in your seat. Your parents sat across from you, stunned into silence, father staring at you as you mother fiddled uncomfortably with her silverware; all the while Urrax panted obliviously, begging for scraps at the side of the table.

“Now,” you sighed, taking a deep breath as you pushed back from the table and stood up, hand reaching for Daemon, “if you’ll excuse us–I’d like to show Daemon my room. Okay?”

For a moment you feared that they’d ask you to leave the house entirely, unable to process what had just transpired let alone accept the simple fact that Daemon and you had been brought together by his status as your professor.

“Okay,” your father sighed, the one word lifting the burden from your heart as you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “But we’re talking more about this–”

He gestured between you and Daemon with his fork.

“In the morning.”

“Dad–” You frowned, ready to nip any objections to your relationship in the bud.

“I ain’t gonna say nothing more about my thoughts on the whole ‘professor’ thing,” he said the word with a hint of distaste. “I just want to get a better picture of….it.”

You saw your mother nodding in agreement, seeming to come back to herself as she took a deep calming breath in and let it slowly out.

“....Alright,” you agreed after a moment before turning to leave. “Dinner was delicious, mom….good night.”

“Night, sweetie,” you heard her sigh as you left them to the rest of their meal and led Daemon upstairs.

Your childhood bedroom was the same as you had left it when you moved out for college, a shrine to the young girl you had once been when your mom still drove you to practices and away games, back when you spent a majority of your time in your father’s shadow. If only you had stayed that age. But alas, you grew up as kids tended to do and as Daemon pressed you back into the floral print bed sheets all thoughts of your adolescence left your mind.

Moaning, you kissed him back with a fervor, one hand combing through his silky shoulder length hair while the other one pulled his shirt from the waistband of his jeans. Pulling away temporarily, he quickly undid the buttons of the shirt before shrugging it off his shoulders, tossing it to the floor of your bedroom before leaning back down to kiss you. His kisses made you breathless, trying to catch your breath between each one as he rubbed against you.

“I didn’t expect all that down there….” he chuckled, lips trailing the length of your jaw and down to your neck, he sucked on the skin there as you let out a gasp your hands falling down to grip at his lower back; his hips pressed into yours, rubbing the outline of his hardening cock against your core.

“Me either,” you pant, laughter on your tongue as you reach your hands between the two of you to fumble with the buckle of his belt. “Fuck….help me get this off.”

“Eager, aren’t we?” He teased, pulling back all the same to give you better access, his own hands reaching down to help undo the zipper of his pants.

“As if you aren’t,” you shot back, licking your lips as you saw the hint of his cock peeking out from between his open fly.

His hand found the back of your head, fingers rubbing your scalp as he patiently waited for you to shimmy his pants down past his buttocks and pull his semi-hard cock out. Spitting in one hand, you grab it in a firm grasp and slowly stroke from base to tip, eyes flicking up to gauge his reaction. You watched the tilt of his head as he looked up the ceiling, eyes closing as he let out a soft moan, hand still tugging through your hair before pressing back against your skull. Once he stiffened a bit more, you rubbed your thumb over the leaking tip, leaning forward to take it into your mouth. Another groan escaped Daemon’s lips, louder this time, deep in his throat as he slowly pressed forward–feeding you his cock.

“Good girl….” He sighed reverently. “So good for me….that’s right–take me all the way to the back of your throat.”

Glowing under his praise, you reminded yourself to relax the back of your throat muscles as he had instructed you in the past, feeling the head of his penis slip into the narrow opening. It was difficult to remember all of it–relax, breathe through your nose, don’t neglect the base….at that thought you reached up your hand, caressing over the heavy weight of his balls before gripping where the shaft met the bottom. Her jerked slightly in your hand, bumping the back of your throat and causing you to gag but you simply stalled, taking a deep breath through your nose and letting it out before continuing.

“There we go,” he grunted, hooded eyes flicking down to stare at you–jaw unhinged, mouth open as you took his dick so well.

Never one to want to waste cum down your throat, however, Daemon tapped you on the shoulder when he was good to go and you pulled back. Licking your lips, feeling how swollen they had become with the tip of your tongue, you rested back on your elbows, clothes still on but disheveled as you awaited your boyfriend’s next move. He wasted no time of ridding you of your shoes and pants, leaving you in your button up blouse–sans buttons when he tore it open much to your ire–as well as your bra and panties; though the latter quickly followed as Daemon discarded your underwear as well, free hand stroking his cock as he placed himself between your legs.

Using one hand to open you up, he used the other to guide himself inside of you, tip of his cock teasing your clit with a few brushes across before finding its target. Biting your lip, you fell fully on your back as you kept your legs wide open for him, only closing momentarily to squeeze his hips as you resisted the urge to lift and impale yourself on his cock the rest of the way. Daemon liked to tease you in the beginning, pushing in inch by agonizing inch, until he was balls deep into your pussy–only then did he give you both what you wanted.

He fucked into you with an enthusiasm none of your other lovers could’ve ever hoped to match, hands gripping either of your thighs in a vice grip as he held you open for himself, watching at how well he pounded your pussy. A satisfied smirk curved his lips, eyes flicking up to meet yours, which were glazed over and unfocused as all you could do was lie there and take his punishing pace. Gasping, you reached down with both hands to grip his wrists, holding on for dear life as you already felt yourself so close to the edge; usually when he noted your approaching orgasm, he would slow down and drag it on, taking you to edge and keeping you there for hours but tonight it seemed he had different plans. Instead of slowing down when you felt that knot forming in your stomach, he went faster, fucking into your with even more vigor as you held in the more alarming of your moans–last thing you needed was your parents hearing your professor screw you into the matress under their own roof.

“Daemon….” you whimpered. “I–I….I need to–”

“You know how to ask nicely, pet,” he teased, rhythm never letting up as his hands slipped from your thighs to your hips, slamming you down onto him as his hips met your ass in a stinging slap again and again.

“Can I–oh!” Your body jerked as one of his hands slipped to your clit, rubbing the bud with the warm pad of his thumb as he kept up his onslaught of attacking thrusts. “Oh shit–fuck! Daemon, can I–can I please cum?! I need to cum all over your cock, I need–ah!”

All senses left you as Daemon reared up, the force of his thrust lifting your lower body as he held you there, back arching and pressing further into the mattress as the dam in your stomach broke–your orgasm washing over you. His thumb stopped moving on your clit, instead holding you there in the chasm where pleasure met pain, lips and thighs wet with the slick of your arousal. You felt the pulse of his own release wash over inside of you as he gave small rolls of his hips against your suspended ass, grunting as the tension finally broke and he let you fall once more to the bed, partially into his lap. Your legs rested uselessly on either side of his hips, racked with residual tremors of your post-coital bliss; sweat coated your skin, prickly and orgasmically uncomfortable as your entire epidermis hummed with sensitivity, body jerking involuntarily from the slightest caress of Daemon’s body brushing against yours.

After a few moments of settling, he finally pulled himself from inside you, a broken whimper leaving your mouth at the loss. Chuckling, he settled his body against your side, shifting both your bodies slightly so that he could tuck himself against your backside, flaccid wet cock rubbing against your ass as you leaned back into him. Your head tucked under his chin as you quietly laid there, feeling how his seed slipped out from inside and dripped onto the bed sheets, both of you allowing the quiet to envelop your bodies before sleep eventually claimed you.

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themotherofblood · 1 year

Note

I saw you opened your requests again, so to finish off my series of requests inspired by Bollywood songs, can I please get Daemon x poc fem reader inspired by "Laal ishq" with lots of angst and nsfw please? (feel free to ignore)

you asked and I shall deliver!! I love the song, even though it’s melancholic. So to go with the theme of estranged lovers. Reader and Daemon have been friends for years, that eventually blossomed to love. Daemon is being forced to marry Rhea. There is no age gap since both have grown up together (also a really disgusting twist, fuck Jaeheryes!) THERE IS A PART TWO WITH SMUT I PROMISE!

Daemon Targaryen x Reader | WC: 5003

Masterlist

tw: mentions of incest, pregnant people and crass language

Daemon’s blood boiled anew since he was knighted the year before and was handed his ancestral sword. Dark Sister. He flew Caraxes faster, he trained harder. While one-half of his time was spent being a more valiant warrior than he already was, the other half was spent with you. Head in your lap, as he fawned on your beauty over and over again. It wasn’t right, you were a noble lady - a princess at that; you were to be chaste and untouched. Yet the walls of the Red Keep often turned a blind eye to your and Daemon’s ongoings. Everyone expected it so, seeming how Daemon always got what he wanted. The court expected that you would be wed to the young prince before Baelon would sit on the throne.

The door to the Godswood slammed open with a thud, and gruff sounds of huffing followed by clanks of armour filled your ears as you smiled to yourself. Almost enjoying every time your lover, pouting and broody demanded your affection after a long day of being consumed with his knighthood. You looked up to find Daemon placing his helm on the wooden table of refreshments before yanking out a leather flask of Flea Bottom’s finest moonshine, growling from the back of his mouth as the burn coated his sore throat. He huffed before plopping down next to you. The stench of mud and sweat filled your nostrils, much used to the muck as you kept working on your embroidery. Lip tucked between your lips as you passed a red string through the fresh patch of linen.

Daemon’s demeanour shifted, without having said a word as his attention was drawn to your nibbled fingers working over the delicate patches of thread. The designs of a story rather than the simple florals most ladies wore at court.

“Who bested you this time?” your voice caught his attention, your eyes still fixated on your work and yet the frustrations bubbling within him were apparent. Daemon narrowed his eyes at you before taking three large swigs from his flask.

“No one, every one of them has tasted dirt by my hands today,” he quickly replied, his mind toiling with a different malady altogether, like a plague. Clinging to the crevices of his head. How does one ask a lady such a thing?

“Then what’s got you pouting today?” you mused at him, this time placing the cloak down and turning to look at his defensive expression. His faded brows pulled to a tight-knit and his mouth parted with no words dancing over his lip. You raised your brow at him, knowing him far better than he realised.

Back in the yards, young lords with Daemon sparred away their mornings. Determined and raging as they charged at one another or dummies. Sparking conversations of bloody war fantasies and of comely girls at court. Out of the few closest to Daemon, five were already married - even his brother. Not that the notion of marriage had him praying like the fanatics at the Sept but even as stories of Old Valyria painted his dreams. He pictured his sweet lover, you in the grab of his house. Muttering words of Valyrian as his love for you would be legitimised by the eyes of dragons and the Fourteen Flames. Perhaps as his own sister-by-law, Aemma swelled full of her first child. He pictured little white-haired children of his own, perhaps enough to put his grandsire’s abilities to shame.

Daemon was sure if he would bring the matter up with his father. That perhaps his Jahereys would offer his hand to your father. There was much to be gained politically, and he would soil the sheets with his blood to cover for the lack of your maidenhead. The plans in his mind were crystal, already insistent of you becoming his lady wife. Though it was a matter of if you’d wish it so, or if your family would approve it.

“I- I asked father to have your hand in marriage,” he replied in one quick breath, his ears ringing from the silence that followed. A blank expression that spread through your features didn’t help his turmoil either as he waited for you to say something or refused him outright. “Fuck’s sake, say something?” he frowned, taking hold of your shoulders and shaking you.

The words wouldn’t reach your lips as you blankly stared him down, blinking profusely back to reality as his worry turned into disappointment. You straightened yourself, folding away the cloak on your lap before gently laying in on the grass, your chest pushing against your corset from how hard you were breathing. Abruptly, you launched yourself at him, knees catching at your gown uncomfortably that you didn’t care for as you straddled his lap to kiss him. There was a fire in how your lips connected, Daemon was truly taken aback for a moment before chuckling and giving into the onslaught, hands caressing each other’s cheeks. You rested your forehead against Daemon’s, “You want this? Marriage?” you had to ask to be sure, that perhaps this wasn’t another one of his spurts of passion.

He nodded “Would you? Be my lady wife?” his eyes, wider than the Septa’s when she heard crass remarks. Bursts of anticipation flooded Daemon’s heart. You would be his, to have and to hold. The colours of his house staining the mustard silks adorning your skin, there would be no reason to conceal such ardour for one another, a flame concealed by forbidding it air. Young souls afraid of its fire would see all but the world, perhaps diminished before it could swallow you whole. The embers would finally take flight, burn anyone who would question Daemon’s affections for you. It was way past time that the two of you should have been wed, every lord was afraid of approaching you from the fear of being eaten by Caraxes, and the ladies stood ten breaths away from the fear of being poisoned by you.

You, a Princess of House Martell, Darmon a Prince of House Targaryen and yet your names for one another held not houses or titles but otherworldly, cosmic - cathartic titles ones of adoration and the rest, not High Valyrian, Ryonish or the Common Tongue could describe. Oftentimes than not it felt unreal, fabricated that perhaps it was the joy of having another, the thrill of breaking statues or perhaps it was finally a sense of home. You saw him for who he was and he, you, not within the wild inclinations but perhaps the calm hidden behind the mirror.

The elation of your supposed oncoming betrothal spread cheek to cheek, the corners of your eyes crinkling (even be fair to say teary-eyed) yet you purse your lips. Still lingering on the question on Daemon’s lips, it was yes - such agreement you could scream your throat sore from Rhaenys Hill - mischief however clouded your mind as you pulled back from him, scrunching your brows in deep thought. A look of offence adorned Daemon’s sharp features; a minx through and through. “Fly a piece of the moon back to me and I shall think about it,” a mere jest, followed by a giggle to seal the line. Daemon’s eyes flickered with another opportunity but for now his work was done.

The tunnels in the Red Keep had stood witness to the damning celebrations that followed after, sneaking baskets of blankets, spiced wines, lemons, and plum cakes being carried from the kitchens to your solar. Even if you were caught, there wasn’t a fret or consequence. You were to be married. Far too intoxicated to do anything by the end of the night, as the vulgarities whispered by Daemon against your ear as his fingers rested against your blushed lips, feeding you pieces of purple grapes to muffle the deep bellied giggles pouring out of your mouth.

The morrow bloomed in with you sprawled atop furs by the dying embers of the hearth, skin sticky from no doubt the sweets consumed last night as your chambermaids poured in to tidy your chamber and you make princess-like once more for the respectable court. Though comely and courteous charm oozed out of your every pour, you let out dishevelled groans and grumbles as you pulled yourself awake. Finding an indent in the furs where your lover had nestled with you the night before and now he fluttered away like every morning. Pristinely dressed in your riding clothes, your schedule today consisted of visiting Lady Aemma, avoiding the snarky air headed ladies and court and paying your precious steed and visiting the Kingswood.

Aemma Arryn, already swelling from her first babe, wore her discomfort with much grace. Hoping to birth a boy for Viserys but in her heart she knew the babe to be a bumbling girl. “I’ve heard something about you… and Daemon,” her lips curled in a sly smile. Yet you being devoid of romantical theatrics, heat still evaded your composure and flared across your cheeks. You shuffled onto the chaise next to her, giggling as you hesitantly held your arm out. She meekly nodded at your gesture, grabbing your palm to place over the bump, the skin firm yet softer under your touch. Living with dragons mere breaths away from you and yet an entire person being inside your friend fascinated you, perhaps such would be your fate without the lemon heads in your environs while engaging in the salacious acts with Daemon.

Your eyes crinkled at the corners, much aware of what Aemma had heard - from Viserys no doubt - the older Targaryen brother hid not one thing from his sweet wife. Both brothers were highly hen pecked by the women they took as lovers. “What could you have possibly heard, I swear I poisoned no one,” your lips curled to a wry grin making her tap your thigh mischievously with her foot. You pulled them onto your lap, kneading your fingers into the mass of her foot, alleviating pressure from her overbearing weight.

“Viserys overheard Prince Baelon talking with the King… Can you imagine us, sisters!” her smile widened cheek to cheek, already pictured dressing you in ivory herself like you did her.

“Whatever you have done to my brother, I applaud you,” Viserys’s voice chimed from behind you, leaning against the door frame, admiring his glowing wife with a graceful smirk on his face “The Street of Silk shall mourn his absence,” he teased making Aemma glare at his antics

“Do not listen to him,” she scoffed, “Have you told anyone yet?” You shook your head, wanting to keep this joy just between the people you trusted the most before the vultures found a way to make profit of such an event yet again.

“Do you know where he is?” you turned to Viserys who pointed out the window to the skies.

The air crashing against your skin as your hair followed free of its braided constraints, purple leather hugged your skin, shielding you from the chill of this day’s climate. The trees mere green shadows in your periphery blend all as one, just your own breathing echoing in your ears and the quicked hoof beats of your night black mare Nysa. While she couldn’t fly, her legs were no less than being afloat in the clouds, brushing past the dirt road at speeds incomparable to the naked eye. She neighed at a halt, right at the end of the meadow. The greenery reached as far as your eyes could see, you lingered in the quiet for a moment, the bird, the grasshoppers and even the leaves melodically sang a song for your ears.

The winds tore past the stink of the bustling livelihood of King’s Landing, amidst the rain that was sure to follow within the end of the week, the forest smelled of leaves, of warmth and damp. You shuffled off your horse, your own personal guard no doubt still catching up to the rampage that tore you through the thick tree lines. Deep breaths of fresh air flooded your lungs, you often dreamed of riding all the way home, to bask in the crisp sunshine at the Old Palace.

You walked holding onto Nysa’s reigns, finding a spot to sit with your legs over the rocks looking down into the ditch, while your marriage would bring forth much joy in your life. Perhaps a blissful life at Dragonstone, a cat, Caraxes and him. Mostly you’d enjoy being a royal lady-wife, perhaps it would make the ladies at court fear you more than a poisoning, Dornishmen - salacious varmints.

Higher above from where you were sitting, Daemon flew past the clouds, higher every moment. A feat encouraged by your jest but in reality a grace question, why hadn’t the Targaryens ever touched the moon? The dim witted Septons nor the droll Maesters had an answer for it. He took matters in his own hands, clipped to Caraxes as he rode the Red Wyrm to newer heights. The air around him was much colder and yet he kept climbing. Taking in large gasps of breaths, however lungs simply couldn’t get enough. A piece of the moon - he could do that much for his sweetest wife to be, a wedding gift better than any silk gown or golden necklace. What completely overshadowed the struggling mount underneath him was you. Caraxes fought to climb, the sky growing a deeper shade of blue, as Daemon’s mind fantasised his way through the journey; the lack of air in his lungs slipped right past.

Knocking him unconscious first, Caraxes yet climbed heights above than before until he realised Daemon slumped backwards on his saddle; severing any control the prince had on his dragon moments before. Such exhaustion consumed the Red Wyrm too, while still within his prime his wings tucked tight as he fell from the skies like the stories of angels the High Septon preaches.

The striking red of the dragon’s body clashed against the bright and clear skies that graced King’s Landing today. Just as you lounged at the edge of the meadow, a falling red figure wasn’t hard to miss. You stood to your feet immediately, fascinated at what it might have been. The Blood Comet in the scrolls wasn’t due for another decade or two. Only instead of gliding across the horizon of the sky, it grew bigger by the moment; until you saw the flutter (no book said anything about fluttering rocks falling from skies above). The dark membranes outline the red made you gasp “Oh gods,” this had been either a sick thrill Daemon had decided to partake in or he was truly falling from the heavens.

You mounted Nysa, rushing towards the falling figure from the skies. While to others the moment seemed fleeting but it felt ages as you neared the falling dragon. Caraxes spread his wings, in desperate attempts to halt the descent as he gained consciousness. Daemon, still attached to his saddle but nowhere near coherency. A loud crash accompanied a mushroom cloud of dirt blasting through the woods, Nysa nearly throwing you off her back as she neighed, startled to shit. You jumped off her, your personal guard merely catching you in time as Ser Alysen gripped your arms. Warning you of the dragon that laid huffing and curled, he would eat you, he would eat you.

You screamed from the back of your throat, pushing Alysen off your back and rushing towards Caraxes. “Do not fucking eat me,” your mind toiled, yet you had to know if your lover was alive or if you were widowed before you even had the chance to step on the alter. The red dragon’s nostril flared, low bellied chirps echoing through the settling dust, please - let me see him. You weren’t sure how you would fight a creature four times your size but perhaps his bigger mind sensed your harmlessness, putting up no protest as you pulled yourself onto Daemon’s saddle, him still slouched, breathing.

“Daemon, Daemon wake up,” you cupped his cheeks. Shaking him profusely, the behemoth he was growing into. You couldn’t carry him off the dragon even if you wanted to. “Come on now, wake up!”

Most of King’s Landing already witnessed a mythical creature falling from the heavens. Half of them ran for the Grand Sept, howling of the end times and the people in the Keep knew it to be Daemon. Within minutes more riders arrived with aid, the others contemplating the possibility of an attack. They found you on top of the Red Wyrm. Distraught and holding the young prince’s body hugged onto you, getting him off the mount proved a far harder challenge than anything the Stranger would ever test them to. A crying princess and an unwilling dragon.

You had raced behind the wheelhouse carrying Daemon back to the Red Keep. Maesters were already alerted and awaiting the prince in his bed chambers. While you had no business being in his quarters, even you had found him. You paced like a mad woman outside his bed chambers, if he died you swore to torment him in the afterlife as you counted every brick placed in the wall you were staring at.

Prince Baelon soon after burst through his quarters, hearing about his son as his conversation with father seemed to have turned quarrelsome. Both him and Viserys had raced down the corridors, the sight was none for relief but you sat on the floor. Knees bobbing in anxiety as you chewed through your nails. Having realised what Daemon might have been doing as dread and anger was replaced with guilt. You made him do this.

The questioning look on the princess’ faces was replied with one meek sentence “I asked him for the moon,” your eyes welling once more. Yet for the sake of your dignity and name you turned away.

After much waiting, yet not having left Daemon’s quarters. You waited patiently for him to awaken, for reasons other than to either press grateful kisses all over his face, or grovel at his feet for his blessed romanticism. Flattered (truly - completely) for broken bones set straight, and bruising along the side of his shoulders and two fat sheep, the cost of the moon on land. When Daemon grumbled awake, his family were the first to receive him until Baelon - being the true supporter of your union - ushered you in after demanding that the Maesters and attendants all leave. The father in him refrained from yelling at his son’s recklessness but you dutifully performed that right for him.

Daemon grinned, loopy from the milk of poppy no doubt. “Princess!” he dragged, very likely expecting an embrace or a pat on his shoulders for his efforts as he sat perched by pillows against the stone headboard. He instead was met with a swift and ringing slap across his cheeks, your eyes and nostrils flared.

“Have you lost your fucking mind!” the rage of a true Dornish woman radiating through your words, unbothered that the Heir to the Iron Throne stood witness to the crisp smack you had landed on his son’s face. You tilted your head, demanding an answer - palm stinging and yet itching to land another sharp smack on his other cheek as he grinned once more. While his cock nearly twitched seeing his sweet princess so ferocious about his life, your eye would soon begin to twitch as he kept up his antics.

“You asked for the moon,” he trailed away, clearly aware of the blunder he had created.

“A joke Daemon! A joke!” you dug your fingers into his cream tunic as you climbed on his bed “If I asked you to jump off Maegor's Holdfast, would you?” you scolded, Daemon’s mischievous glint now turned soft as your anger gave way to your concern. He nodded in agreement, nodding away like a spring headed doll. You smacked him on the shoulder once more, your bottom lip trembling as you remembered the terror you had felt as he laid unconscious in your arms “I thought - you moron,” your voice broke. “I thought you were dead,” you whimpered, making Daemon shuffle up higher.

He pushed stray hairs away from your face, his eyes soft as he glanced over your scrunched face. His thumbs caressing your cheeks before pulling you into him. You sobbed, near incoherent as relief washed over your fright. Daemon shushed you, apologising for scaring you, he looked up to where his father stood in his receiving chambers with a sheepish yet apologetic smile on his face. Baelon’s eyes glinted with knowing sadness, smithing Daemon wrote as disappointment for the stunt he had pulled. Baelon nodded knowingly at Daemon, reassuring him that you and him not to be disturbed before exiting and closing the door behind him.

Daemon milked his injuries for all they were worth, the warrior in him laid to rest as he demanded care from you at all times. From having you snuck through the tunnels to lay with him curled under the furs to insisting that you change his bandaging for him, read for him and braid his hair. The reality that Daemon was the younger sibling had never been more apparent than these past two moons as his bones realigned themselves, even Caraxes shared Daemon’s temperament during this time. Refusing to hunt and gobbling through the horde of sheep the dragon keepers would bring for him.

Whatever announcements of nuptials were to be made were postponed until he healed whole. So here you lay in the Godswood with Daemon oddly chirped than before as Prince Baelon’s feast begins tonight, having him affirmed as heir yet again as Jahereys health began to decline. Barely being able to speak more than a cough or two. The Old King’s time neared to an end, something that had deeply bothered all the Targaryens in the family. Bringing nearly the end of the century of dragons, even Aemma near the end of term. Much was to grace House Targaryen in the coming moons, so sitting here under the red leaves in the glaring warmth of the afternoon - there was silence, there was tranquillity.

You mindlessly sectioned Daemon's hair, braiding it far better than the handmaiden did for him. “You are going to be the prettiest Prince tonight, have women drooling and what not,” you giggled, knowing very well he found your teasing amusing but it often came at the price of having your rear smacked out of the blue.

“I shall escort you tonight,” Daemon whispered, lost in the sensations of your finger tips fiddling against his scalp, consequences and rules meant little to him now, let the world know and have the bother be done with, you were his. What else was there to say about it

“No, you may not,” you shook your head, tongue poked out as you dismissed him. He moved his head to look up at you, you shook your head once more “We cannot, not just yet,”

This one dismissal would result in a knight of pawing and pouting, you were sure of it. A prince of six and ten and yet he couldn’t behave like one. Your gown for tonight already laid awaits in your bed chambers, a gorgeous mustard and gold gown to compliment the symbols of your house. While Daemon often insisted you wear black or perhaps even red, in his head the two of you were already wed; it was only a matter of formality. What courting a woman that has been with him since his toddlerhood.

The Throne room once more had been decorated to charm the guests travelling from all over the Known World, to pay respects to the Old King and to find allegiances with their soon to be King, Prince Baelon. Many noble ladies of courts far and wide, dressed in their finest gowns, hoping to catch the eye of a Targaryen prince, perhaps the heir or perhaps his son. Prince Baelon appeared mellow, almost irked as he made his rounds. You greeted him upon arrival but his usually courteous smile to you seemingly turned to a grunt of an acknowledgment. You found solace within your known friends as they gushed over each other’s gowns while feasting over candied apples and cake. Daemon arrived later, a quirk of his as he walked in head held high and nonchalant, lips curled in a smirk as ladies began to hound him with questions of his well being.

The Kingsgaurd made their presence known as the crowd simmered to whispered conversations, everyone resumed their seats on either side of the Throne room. You sat with a few Dornish delegates and your brother Quentel Martell, he was rather chirpy about being housed by Targaryens, and odd joy or perhaps understanding bubbling in his chest as he socialised with the other heads of houses. The grand titles of the king were read out as his silhouette crowded your vision, the Old King stood in his regalia. A dying dragon yet stood commanding an entire room, people erupted in cheers as he walked to his Throne, his heir and son stood by the spiking swords by the ground.

The grandeur of the feast continued through the elaborate evening, tables coated in food and spilt wine drying sticky. Daemon and you made your rounds, inquiring of the latest salacious gossip and giggling over the older maidens that swooned over his father,when in was unsaid yet apparent that no woman in all of this court would ever be what Alyssa Targaryen was, her fire: her passion were truly unmatched. Another round of announcements were to be made, a grand toast to proclaim Baelon Targaryen as heir once more.

“It is with great pride, I once again affirm,” Jaeherys looked to his son admiringly, Baelon shuffled uncomfortably where he stood and yet you held a sorrowful smile, he truly deserved to have Alyssa beside him, she would have been a far valiant Queen than Westeros had ever seen. “My son, Baelon Targaryen is Heir to the Iron Throne and to be the future King of The Seven King,” the crowd applauded in unison as you joined them, Daemon nudged Viserys as he would be King after his father. As the applause died down, Jaehereys continued “I also with great pleasure, announce the betrothal of my grandson Daemon Targaryen,”

Heat creeped onto your cheeks as you caught Daemon’s lilac eyes across the room, crinkled at the corner as he smirked at you; both of you already aware of the verdict. Daemon contained all his animalistic happiness within him as he mouthed “my wife” to you. For moments, the hundreds of nobles and servants around you disappeared, all the remained were your eyes and his, separated by the wall from the watching gallery where you stood, here where you would be married, anointed by the King himself or the High Septon.

“With the noble lady Rhea of House Royce!” King Jaehereys’s voice boomed through the hall following thunderous applause. The crowds either turned to direct their applause at Daemon or turned to find the bronze dressed house and clapped.

Daemon's betrayed frown turned to his grandsire and his father, this couldn’t be - he was told otherwise, he wished otherwise. Lady Rhea, the great brown haired beauty she was - had already approached the makeshift altar, shuffling her way past the chairs to the Iron Throne; she stopped by Daemon, waiting from him to approach her. Daemon stood his ground, a deceived scowl began to tear through his princely composure and yet he had no choice over the demanding glare Jaehereys had fixed upon his grandson. Daemon felt the urge to empty his contents right onto the stone floor as Lady Rhea and him bowed in honour. Rhea, unaware of Daemon’s inner discomfort began to soak in the outpour of love for the new Targaryen wife to be.

While Daemon began to contemplate ways to weasel his way out of this, he found you standing at the gallery. The wine cup in your hand king dropped as you stool colourless and frozen. Not a blink nor a twitch as you stared at the window behind the throne, bile covered tongue as the sweet wine in your mouth turned bitter. The night was far from ended.

“With such auspicious news, my son, Baelon Targaryen presents you with your future Queen. To secure another reign of dragons, the Prince is betrothed to the Princess of Dorne!”

Another round of shivers jolted you from your trance, this time your reddening eyes shifted to look at the King - he who searched for your mustard clothed figure in the sea of people. Baelon had sooner caught your eye than him as he approached the stairs leading up to the gallery. People all around you are cheering and you hear muffled chatter. His hands tucked behind his back as he waited for you to come to him, how do you marry a man who held nothing but fatherly admiration for you wit, how do you marry the father of your lover. You eyes hadn’t dared meet Daemon’s just yet, refusing to look at the woman that stood next to him as you pulled away from the steel railing of the gallery. Your feet mindlessly carrying you to the unchosen prince, your palms shaking as you took his hand. Any lady in your position would quake with blushed prospects, “she’s just shy” you were terrified, betrayed and above all bleeding.

There will be a part 2 :)

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mawofmeraxes · 1 year

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DAEMON TARGARYEN

dragon's babe

summary: A few weeks after the birth of your son, you and Daemon take the little one to meet the sigil of your house in the form of his father's and yours dragons. You only hope that the interaction will be a good one, considering things went well regarding the pregnancy, and pray that the egg that resides in his crib may one day hatch into his own dragon.

#daemon targeryan #daemon #targaryen #house targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd #daemon x you #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen x you #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen one shot #daemon targaryen fanfic #hotd spoilers

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bi-disaster-yn · 2 years

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Helpless

Pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen x fem!Reader

Summary: Rhaenyra struggles with the loss of her mother and only Reader steps up to help her.

A/N: I am already down SO BAD for Rhaenyra and will be bending the knee for her.

You had never fought on the battlefield before but you were sure at this moment you would win a war to get back to Rhaenyra.

When the news had reached you about the untimely passing of her mother, you knew you had to abandon your travels and head back to King’s Landing to be there for her. It seemed like the urgency of your expedition had dissipated and this had become the only thing in the world that mattered.

You were partially comforted by the fact that she would have Alicent to look after her. Although, this wouldn’t be the same as you tending to her. Whilst Alicent was Rhaenyra’s dearest friend, you were her lover and closest confidant.

Tight knotting ravaged your stomach and chest as you got closer and closer to King’s Landing. Fear set in as you pondered how your poor Rhaenyra was faring without you. The carriage just simply wasn’t going fast enough. You had demanded returning by horseback, knowing you’d be able to outride the entire party and get there in half the time. However, your demands were harshly refused. Instead, you were to sit helplessly in a carriage, playing with your hands and torturing yourself with the endless possibilities of your love’s welfare.

Once safely in King’s Landing, you ignored a squire’s hand to help you out of the carriage and essentially launched yourself out of it.

“My Lady, we hadn’t expected you back for quite some time.” The squire commented but you brushed him off.

“The Princess needs me.” You responded, storming off to the kitchen to fetch a selection of some of Rhaenyra’s favourite cakes. Then, you completed your mission to her chambers.

You were right; Rhaenyra did need you. When you found her, she was curled up on her bed, lying on her stomach on a large pillow that was almost the size of a person. It was drenched with her tears but she clung onto it, sobbing relentlessly.

Never had you seen your dear Rhaenyra so helpless. Her full body was racked with painful and shuddering sobs. She seemed fragile and thin. Clearly, she had eaten very little since the event and the consequences had quickly manifested in her petite frame. The black dress that once fitted her perfectly now seemed to drown her.

She lay facing out of the window and didn’t register your entrance. It wasn’t until you set the cakes to the side and gently got on to the bed behind her that she realised there was someone else in the room. Startled, she jumped at the contact when you placed a loving hand on her shoulder until she recognised your kind face and she instantly felt safe.

Desperately, she grabbed at the collar of your dress, pulling you down on top of her and let out deep and heart-wrenching howls. It was the safety you provided that allowed her to let go so freely and truly vent her pained emotions. You responded to her by wrapping your arms round her tightly and burying your head in her neck, kissing her soft skin gently to reassure her.

“My sweet one, I am so sorry.” You mumbled against her skin. “I am here now. I am sorry I wasn’t before.”

“You came back for me.” She shakily spoke in between her ragged breathing.

“I will always come back for you, Princess.” You said, resting your elbow on the pillow and looking down at her. The poor thing had a red and raw complexion in stark contrast to her usually sun kissed one. You ran your fingers through her hair, casually twirling the strands between them in an attempt to soothe her.

Rhaenyra reached up to kiss you gently, placing both of her hands on your cheeks and holding you in place. Your eyes instantly closed and you reciprocated the kiss delicately. You brushed your thumb along her jaw in feather-like touches. Selfishly, you rejoiced at the opportunity of being able to kiss her again but held yourself back in respect for her mourning.

Once you’d pulled back, you rested your forehead against hers, still caressing her jawline. She looked up at you with a gorgeous combination of ardour and melancholy.

“You can tell Alicent to take some rest, I am here to tend to you now.” You whispered to her; your face close enough to hers that your lips brushed against her skin as you spoke.

Rhaenyra swallowed thickly at that and settled back against the pillow, avoiding your gaze. Her response confused you profusely and you brushed some hair away from her forehead in an attempt to get her to look at you.

“Alicent has not been here in days. I hear she tends to my father.” Rhaenyra admitted, almost guiltily and still tried to avoid eye contact with you. Nothing could stop the frown that your features contorted to make. To say the least, you were furious. In your Rhaenyra’s time of need, the person who you were sure would tend to her had abandoned her in favour of her father. The King no doubt would have had the support of the small council, countless whores and anyone else who enjoyed breathing. In your absence, Rhaenyra only had Alicent but had been left to fend for herself.

“What about Daemon?” You inquired. “Surely he has paid you a visit.”

Daemon wasn’t exactly your preferred substitute but apart from you or Alicent, you knew that he would be the only one who could provide your beloved with some comfort.

“No, I don’t know where he is.” She replied sheepishly. This angered you too, but not nearly as much as Alicent. If anything, Daemon’s absence was to be preferred. You had always been cynical of his intentions with Rhaenyra and she did not need his influence in this particularly vulnerable time. Still, she should never have been left alone.

Carefully, you sat back against the grand throw pillows on the bed and pulled Rhaenyra with you so that her head rested on your chest.

“Well, I am here now and I’m not going anywhere.” You reassured her, pressing kisses to the crown of her head.

“I am glad you’re back; I couldn’t possibly pretend that big pillow was you for much longer.” She replied, with a slight smirk in her tone. It was both heart-warming and gut-wrenching that she had craved your comfort so much she had resorted to imagining your presence.

“Well, hopefully I have more intelligent things to say than the pillow.” You offered, stroking her hair and allowing her to wrap her arms round your waist to hold you in an iron grip. She never truly appreciated the vastness of her own physical strength.

“Hmm, I am not so sure.” Rhaenyra joked, looking up at you with a faint smile. Despite her mourning and the pain, she would always be able to smile once in your arms. For that, you’d allow her to make her little jests so that she might find her playful demeanour again.

“Well, I’ll keep quiet then. I am sure you and the pillow have much to discuss.” You smirked.

“I think we have discussed all we can.” She sighed contentedly, settling into your arms. “Tell me about your travels. Give me a distraction from how heinous this feels.”

“I will, but first,” you began, reaching over to retrieve the cakes from the side. “Please eat some of these. I know you won’t have eaten much but I’m certain you can be tempted with cake.”

Rhaenyra’s stiff and exposed expression confirmed you were right about her not having eaten. She made a careful selection on a lavender cake and nibbled on it, looking up at you adoringly.

“You know how to make everything better.” She told you, settling her head in the crook of your neck. You kissed her forehead gently and rubbed her back soothingly.

“I’ll always try to make things better for you, my Princess.” You said and the did as your princess had commanded of you, regaling stories of your recent travels in an animated way which you knew she would like. Rhaenyra enjoyed your commentary, sometimes finding herself giggling and immediately began to feel more at ease. Her one true love had endeavoured to come back for her when she needed them most.

Existence without her mother was excruciating and the days that followed Queen Aemma’s passing had been a war that Rhaenyra was losing. She had tried desperately to keep her head above water, flailing helplessly with no assistance. With your return, it was like you had reached your hand out to stop her from drowning. Rhaenyra settled, feeling safe in your arms and that things had just gotten a little less terrible.

#rhaenyra targaryen #Rhaenyra Targaryen x reader #Rhaenyra Targaryen x fem!reader #Rhaenyra Targaryen x female reader #Rhaenyra Targaryen fanfiction #Rhaenyra Targaryen one shot #Rhaenyra Targaryen imagine #Rhaenyra Targaryen drabble #a song of ice and fire fanfiction #Rhaenyra Targaryen x yn #Rhaenyra targa x you #reader insert #game of thrones fanfic #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfic #daemon targaryen #milly alcock #milly Alcock x reader #lgbt reader

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