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dragonnwriter · 3 days

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Skyfall

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Warning: Death, mention of miscarriage, mention of rape, forced marriage, angst, smut fluff, post-Dance

Summary: Daemon was the only surviving, elder Targaryen to wear the Conquerors Crown. His heir was a broken little boy. Driven by spite, he took the widow of the nephew he had slain as his wife.

A/N: This fic was inspired by this fic game from @ewanmitchellcrumbs

He felt the crash hard. It was unlike falling to the ground. Water was more resistant, and firmer. He wanted to groan, the pain shooting from his back to his whole body. But as soon as he tried to breathe, water was already filling his lungs.

The weight of his heavy armour pulled him down to the ground of the lake. But he resisted as best as he could. His head broke the surface of the lake, coughing, and spluttering as he took deep breaths.

He crawled out of the water with difficulty. His wet jerkin was adding to the weight of his chain mail and dark armour. His body was protesting against every move he made. Crying out for him to give up, to surrender. But he was too stubborn.

Tears of frustration threatened to spill down his cheeks. His hands were muddy and full of cuts from the stones on the shore. Left shoulder, where Aemond’s sword pierced him, burned from the exertion. He could feel the pumping from his heart in the gaping wound.

He gave up in the middle of the cobblestone shore right where the grass line began. He was heaving heavily. He was trying to get enough air into his lungs to breathe, but all his body wanted was to shut down and succumb to the darkness calling him.

The last thing he remembered where men of his army rushing to him. Carrying him to a cart.

He woke up surrounded by maesters and servants. All fussing as he tried to sit up. He was stronger than any of them if it wasn’t for the milk of the poppy the maesters had given him in his unconscious state. His movements were sluggish, his head fuzzy. He roared out for the hands around his body to unhand him. He threatened them to behead them in the name of his wife, Queen Rhaenyra.

The room grew quiet at his mention of Rhaenyra. He looked around, his eyes hardening. “What is the meaning of this?” Everyone in the room averted their eyes. His anger burned brighter with every quiet moment passing by. “Talk!” He boomed.

A maester hesitantly came closer to his side. He bowed deeply. “My p-prince, the Princ-Queen Rhaenyra was killed by the order of King Aegon. She burned in the fires of Sunfyre.” The elderly man became quiet at the end. Everyone in the room waited with bated breath for his reaction. Fearing the worst.

Daemon’s nostrils flared as the words sunk in. The usurper green cunt burned her alive. They had their flaws, but he cared for Rhaenyra deeply. She did not deserve to die like this. “Where is he now?” The servants looked down. The maester, an elderly man with a bald head and dark brown eyes, looked at him with sympathy. He looked like a Great Dane, with his sad dark eyes and the deep wrinkles around his face. “He is dying, my prince.”

Satisfaction spread through his body as he got the news about Aegon dying. “Who else is still alive?”

The maester looked up at him, fixing his posture as he had been bowing the whole time. “The Dowager Queen Alicent, Princesses Jaehaera, your son, Prince Aegon the younger and…” The man trailed off.

Daemon impatiently looked at him. His fingers drummed on the bedding. “Who else?” He growled. “The widow of Prince Aemond, my prince.”

A wide, nearly sadistic grin spread on his lips. Good, he thought. He takes further revenge on his naïve nephew.

The day Daemon was announced King, was the day Aegon the Second died. He took it as the opportunity to announce not only his coronation as king, as he was the only elder male Targaryen left. He also announced his betrothal to the widow of Aemond.

He saw in the corner of his eyes how she stood next to the Dowager Queen. Her eyes cast down as the herald announced the news. The corners of his lips lifted at her reaction. Alicent broke down, another triumph for him, as he knew the Lady had become like a daughter to her.

She stood in her chamber with her maids flittering around her. They had already undressed her out of her heavy wedding gown. Lifting the weight from her shoulder, but not from her chest.

She had heard stories from her late husband about his uncle. He had admired the man. But his arrogance and his ignorance had led to his death. She had mourned him, even though in the end he didn’t deserve her tears.

She had heard of the witch of Harrenhal. How he had bedded her time and time again. Maybe he had been under her spell, maybe he did it out of his free will. But she was with his child, not her, the witch.

She stood in front of the mirror of her room. Seeing the maids working on unbraiding her hair. How she wished they knew how to unbraid the coil in her stomach.

Her hands shook slightly as she touched the fine lace of her night dress. A gift from Daemon. “The lace was made in Myr, my lady.” One of her maids whispered in awe. She only nodded. Her mind was blank. Her soul had gone to a far-off place.

She was led to Daemon’s chamber. Her steps were so stiff she felt like a puppet being moved on strings. Maybe the gods took control of her, leading her to her slaughter. She had been Aemond’s wife, now married to his killer. From one kinslayer married to another. But who had not earned that title in the Dance? No one's hands were untainted with spilt dragon blood. Not even her own hands were clean.

Daemon sat in front of the lit fireplace, a goblet of the finest braavosi wine in his hand. He held the conqueror's crown in his hand. Looking at it with indifference. He was king now. A king with a broken heir. Aegon had seen his mother being burned alive. Being scared for his life.

He had always been a guarded boy. Keeping to himself most of the time when Viserys wasn’t next to him. Viserys, his other son, was taken by the Triarchy. Believed to be dead.

He took a large gulp from his drink. He was staring into the flames with a blank stare. He needed a new heir. Aegon would not be fit to rule. He was too broken, too much grief and darkness surrounded him. He would break under the weight of the heavy crown.

He pursed his lips and chuckled humourlessly. Would he break too? He had lost much too. Laena and their son, his brother, Rhaenyra, their younger son Viserys, their daughter, his dragon, his trusted life companion he had fought in plenty of wars with. Caraxes was nowhere to be seen. His guards searched far and wide for any signs of his beloved dragon. But until now, he was believed dead.

His chamber door opened and a maid of his new wife stepped in, announcing her presence. He did not turn as she entered. Did not acknowledge her. It seemed she did not do the same. Maybe she was scared of him? He fought with amusement.

He heard her move before he saw her stand next to him. She was dressed in a thin robe covering her shoulders. It was opened, probably a maid’s work. She looked like she wanted to close it again.

"Should I lay on my back, lord husband?” She whispered so softly. He looked up at her, seeing the hidden fear in her glassy eyes. “No.” He spoke softly. A softness he hadn’t felt in a long time. “You are not willing to lay with me.”

Her eyes widened at his words. He chuckled and drank the rest of his wine before putting his cup and crown on the table with the jug of wine. “Did the Dowager Queen tell you I would take you without your consent? I think she has lived too long with her rapist of a son and sadly, my brother too. I am not too obsessed with having sons like he was. I have a living son, even if I see him as unfit. I also have two daughters from my dear Laena. If one of them marries and has a son, he will inherit my throne.”

He stood up and looked at her for the first time. She was beautiful, he had to admit that. He was not blind. “I think you would appreciate it if you were to be left alone. You do not only mourn Aemond, do you?” Her body stiffened. “How…?” He smiled softly. “I have my little birds everywhere. They told me about your … misfortune. No woman should ever feel that kind of pain.”

She bit her lip and looked down at the stone floor. Her arms wrapped unconsciously around her empty womb. A few months ago she had felt the flutter of life there, but the gods were cruel to her.

“I could order my men to hunt her down and kill her,” Daemon murmured. His lady wife looked up with shock. “Do not kill Alicent! Jaehaera needs her!” Daemon shook his head. “Not that green snake. I mean the witch. Aemond’s mistress who is with his child. I could let her be killed if you want.”

She stared at him with wide eyes before she shook her head. “No, let her be.” “Even if she was the one who caused you to lose your child.” She took in a sharp breath. Her answer was still no. Even if the rumours were true, she didn’t want more blood on her hands.

Daemon nodded, walking past her to the open balcony doors. He heard music and the cheering of the smallfolk. “Why did you marry me? I am not of Valyrian decent.” Daemon grinned softly. “You are not, little dove. I married you to spite your late husband. I want him to look from beyond and see you filled with my child. Caring for my children. I want him to see what he has neglected.”

He turned to her, seeing her wide eyes. “Only if you want. I will not force you. I am not my brother and certainly not my nephew. If you want, I can give you a child.” They stared at each other. The room is quiet.

It had been a year since that fateful night. The realm slowly regained strength under Daemon. No one thought he could become a good king. But he listened to his small council and had competent and trusted advisors. One was his lady wife. She was beautiful but had a sharp tongue that matched Daemon’s wit.

He looked down at her as she writhed on top of the wooden table of the small council as he drove his member over and over into her warmth. Her mewls and moans floated through the empty room. Only the noises of their sticky skin slapping and her moans filled the room.

His stones slapped against her buttocks as he leaned over her. Holding both her wrists over her head. “Who is fucking you this good, little dove.” He looked into her pleasure-filled face. Seeing her struggle to keep her eyes open. “You… Daemon!”

He clicked his tongue and slapped her thigh harshly. “Wrong answer, dōna ābrazȳrys. Who is making you feel this good?” (Sweet wife)

Her soft lips opened and closed like a fish out of the water until her soft, pleasure-filled voice gasped. “You, my king. Ñuha dārys!“ Daemon smirked at her words. “Good, you are learning, little dove.” (My King)

He drove himself over and over into her tight warmth. “Will you give me another one? Another little girl.” She nodded softly. “Kessa, ñuha dārys!” (Yes, my king!) Daemon chuckled softly at her words.

His pace slowed down as he felt his end approaching. His thrust became hard, pushing into her with force. Her gasps grew louder with every push. “Such a good, little wife. Taking her king's cock. Ñuha sȳz dāria!” (My good queen) He groaned out loudly. Filling her with his warm seed.

Her body began to tremble as she approached completion. Her body tensed until it went limp under him.

He looked down at her. Her chest heaving. The sun rays streaming from the window made her sweat-covered skin glisten. He was far from a religious man, but to him, she looked like the personification of the maiden. So innocent and vulnerable. If he weren’t so possessive he would commission a painting of her in her post-orgasmic state.

He leaned down, kissing her softly before helping her sit up. He was still inside her, his softening member keeping his semen inside of her. His arms were tightly wrapped around her. “I heard you had coaxed Aegon out of his room and walked around the garden.” He smiled softly at him.

His wife smiled at him. “We talked. I wanted him to know I would never replace his mother. Then we talked about his studies. He is a smart boy.” She grinned up at him. Daemon chuckled. “Good. He told me he feels safe with you.”

His wife looked down, playing with the embroidered dragon on his doublet, heat spreading across her face. “I feel honoured.” She mumbled.

Their bubble was broken by hurried steps coming closer to the small council chamber. Both turned as a knight entered the chamber. “My king, my queen.” He bowed deeply. “There is a boy at the gates claiming to be your son, my king.”

Daemon looked up from his wife to the knight. “Go.” His wife whispered. She pushed him softly from her. He hissed at the loss of her warmth. Whining slightly as she closed his breeches with nimble fingers.

With a fast pace, he rushed into the courtyard, seeing Viserys riding into the gates. He had grown since the last time he saw him.

Daemon was at the horse's side, pulling his son down from the animal. He held him to his chest. Viserys wrapped himself around his father. Both Targaryens couldn’t hold their tears back.

Another body crashed into Daemon’s side. Aegon sobbed loudly as he wrapped his hand around his father and little brother.

With tears in his eyes, he looked at the steps, seeing his wife standing with their daughter in her arms. A gentle smile on her lips. He nodded at her, thanking her for bringing Aegon down from his room.

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dragonnwriter · 3 days

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Teeth are bullshit. What do you mean you’re decaying. Get a fucking grip. You’re a bone now act like it. You don’t see my finger bones decaying from jerking it too much now do you

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dragonnwriter · 5 days

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daddy?

Matt Smith as Daemon Targaryen in House of the Dragon | 1.07 "Driftmark"

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dragonnwriter · 5 days

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Inviolable Bindings

Aemondxfem!OC and Aegonxfem!OC

All Chapters Here!

Chapter 41

Viserra awoke with the same anticipation and uncertainty that she had gone to bed with. But it was the start of the morning’s sun and the quiet bustling of the servants’ activities had caused her to wake instead of just the restlessness. She pulled herself out slowly from Aemond’s heavy arms, adjusting the sheet around her as she sat up. One of the young male servants politely pretended that he did not notice her there but did not let it affect his duties.

Feeling the loss of warmth at his side, Aemond woke a short moment after. Viserra felt him close in behind her, his fingers tracing the curve of her spine before leaving a gentle kiss to her bare shoulder. Despite being in the presence of the castle staff, he seemed unconcerned with the intimacy displayed in front of them.

“I do not wish for this morning’s arrival,” she admitted with a sigh.

Aemond brushed the hair over her other shoulder and left a few more kisses in its place. “The last two moons have passed quickly, no doubt the next will too seem to come and go.”

“That is easy for you to say, you will not be sitting around in this dull castle looking for things to fill your time,” she scowled.

Without addressing her complaints, a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips before he continued his way out of the bed. He found his pants from the evening prior then fetched her dress with an offer to help her into it. Looking up to him with a subtle eye roll, she realized he was attempting to hasten the morning, yet she still allowed him to slip it over her head. He had agreed to meet back in her rooms once he too had fully dressed, promising her they could walk down to the castle gates together.

Viserra left for her own chambers to ready herself with a level of impatience she did not usually have. Once she had washed, she sat restlessly as Elia braided her hair before dressing in her riding leathers. Though she had briefly considered donning a gown, she settled on the leathers thinking she might want to train or fly to ease her discontentment.

The knock that echoed through the chamber shouldn’t have surprised her, not with Aemond being punctual almost to a fault. And when the girls answered the doors, it was indeed him standing there, dressed in his black armor that only slightly eased her restlessness.

“You look quite handsome for a man heading to the warfront,” she teased, her eyes darting to his neatly procured hair.

Aemond raised a brow. “Is that so?”

Dismissing her chambermaids quickly, Viserra gestured for him to come sit where she had just been. He did not protest even though he was maneuvering stiffly from the restraints of the armor.

“I always braid my hair before setting out in such a manner,” she explained, tugging lightly on her own long braid. “I only had to learn once that long, loose hair gave others an advantage over me.”

Aemond smiled at her, realizing it was her unconventional way of showing him how much she cared for his well being . “Would it make you feel better if I let you braid mine?”

Viserra nodded and gave a short laugh. “It would.”

As he took a seat in front of her, she quickly removed the patch and gathered his silken strands between her fingers. The simple act of braiding his hair seemed almost as intimate as the moments they had spent the night before. She weaved a few small strands back to keep the hair from falling in his face and connected them all in a single braid secured tightly with a leather tie.

Once finished, she circled to face him, her smile approving of her own work. “It suits you,” she spoke, her gaze admiring all of him.

Aemond stood and smiled down to her. “We should be taking our leave,” he urged, looking in the direction of the doors.

Viserra nodded, wasting no time and hurrying to fetch her blades. Yet, instead of placing them both on her hip, she paused for a moment before presenting the Valyrian steel sword to Aemond.

Surprise flashed across his face as he looked between her and the blade. But before he could formulate a response, she spoke as she saw his hesitation. “It will serve you better for the time being,” she explained. “You will be facing another who wields a blade made of the same steel, it seems only right for you to carry a weapon just as formidable.”

Aemond examined it with a furrowed brow. “I did not ask for such a favor,” he protested.

Viserra crossed her arms, unwilling to let him decline. “Perhaps I would not have even considered giving it to you if you had asked for it yourself,” she teased. “Though I expect it back in my hands when you return, alive and well.”

Aemond took another moment to comprehend the significance of the gesture. However, soon enough he looked at her with a smile that conveyed both acceptance and appreciation. No other words needed to be shared between them for the moment and they both turned to head out towards the castle gates.

The yard was filled with smallfolk and soldiers alike, the anxiety and anticipation thick in the air. Aemond had walked ahead to meet with Cole to assure that things were all in line while Viserra took a place at Alicent’s side. Neither woman said a word to the other as they watched the men tie up loose ends and finally organize their formation.

Before finally climbing atop his horse, Aemond approached the women with Cole lingering a few feet behind. Viserra watched as Alicent stepped forward, reaching for her son and taking his hands in hers. It was clear that she was no longer able to hide the worry from her face.

“Be cautious, my son,” she begged. “Keep your wits about you and do not let your anger cloud your judgment.” Her knuckles had turned white from the tight hold she kept on him, almost as if she did not intend to let go.

Aemond smiled at his mother, bringing her close and letting her fully embrace him. “I will, Mother. We will win this war.”

Withdrawing from her gently, he then faced Viserra, offering her a nod and a much darker smile. Viserra could only close her eyes and offer him a small bow in response.

The gates opened and the men began their march. Aemond and Cole took this as their cue to leave, turning and walking quickly back to the horses. The reality of the moment seemed to settle over both of the women like a heavy fog, neither feeling entirely confident that this had been the best move. Viserra would once again be the only dragonrider there to protect the Keep, yet this time she was acutely aware that their enemies held many more dragonriders than the time before.

The gates closed behind the departing party and Alicent finally turned to her wearing the same concern she had faced her son with. Without a word and only offering a slight scowl, she turned and headed back into the castle.

Viserra never found wallowing in any sorrowful mood did her good. Part of her was filled with worry yet the other, much stronger feelings, were of frustration that she could not leave with them. Instead of returning into the castle walls herself, she walked to the training yard where she knew she would at least find focus.

Just as she had hoped, it did give her a moment's peace from the negativity she felt from the day. After an afternoon full of training, she found herself exhausted both in body and spirit. As she retreated back within the castle walls, she made a promise to herself to not dwell on the things she could not control and focus on what she could.

Routine and consistency seemed to be key. In the days that followed, she made it a point to visitHelaena in the mornings and spend time with the children afterwards. When Aegon was alert enough to hold a conversation, she found herself enjoying his company and finding escape in his playful nature. In the evenings, she usually retreated to her own rooms or in the peaceful walls of the library, reading through some of the newer texts that had been written solely for pleasure.

Though it was a relief knowing that Aegon had indeed taken a turn for the better, most of his days were still spent in poppy induced rest. Each coming day, he spent more and more time awake and alert, even moving about in his chambers and sitting by the window in the warm afternoons. In the quiet moments Viserra spent at his bedside, she told him of all the happenings around the castle and of his brother’s plans to kill Daemon and take back the Riverlands. Both agreed it was a fool’s mission but if anyone would be successful, it would be Aemond.

The days stretched on and each morning they would hope for a raven detailing any words of success. A raven had yet to come, but Viserra’s hope never wavered. In fact, she found it easier to turn the anticipation into determination and motivation to train just in case they received the news no one wanted to hear.

On the eleventh day after Aemond’s departure, Viserra had found herself wrapped up in several things that prevented her from visiting the Queen in the morning hours. Once her day had settled down and the evening came without further obligations, she finally made her way to see Helaena hoping that she would not find her already retired to sleep.

As the Queensguard opened the large doors, she was surprised to find Helaena standing behind them instead of seated by the window as usual. The unexpected change in her behavior sent a wave of unease through Viserra’s body as it appeared almost as if Helaena had been waiting for her to come.

Quickly approaching her, she took Helaena’s hands in her own. “Is everything alright?” Viserra asked, her voice betraying the worry. She searched her face as if she might find the reason for the sudden change.

Helaena’s eyes were heavy like they carried the weight of the world behind them. This was different from the lost look they usually displayed. “What he seeks will not be there. The walls will bleed black in its stead.”

“Who?” Viserra asked, her fingers tightening their grip on Helaena’s. But the girl only looked away. Frustrated, she shook her hands and attempted to catch her eyes once more. “Who Helaena? I cannot help you if you do not tell me who.”

Viserra’s begging for clarity was met with Helaena sharply looking back. “Aemond.”

As his name came from her lips, Viserra drew in a breath and felt like her heart had monetarily stopped. “What do you mean?” She pleaded, her rate of breathing increasing as she raced through possible meanings of the Queen’s words.

“The walls will bleed black,” Helaena repeated, seeming to look right through her as she spoke.

Closing her eyes and letting go of Helaena’s hands, Viserra pushed on her temples and tried to think of what needed to happen next. “Do I go to him?” She asked desperately.

“No.” Helaena replied, her voice unusually stern and certain.

Viserra let out a frustrated growl. “I cannot leave here fly to him?” She asked again, hoping to get a different answer this time.

But Helaena remained firm. “No.”

“I am sorry.” Viserra breathed, not sure of what she was actually apologizing for. “I will not go but I must do something.”

She turned from the Queen and left, feeling the internal conflict pulling at both her heart and her head. Many moons before, she had promised to listen to Helaena when she had spoken words that had proved to hold greater meaning. She had made the mistake of not listening and Aegon had been gravely injured in consequence. The choice was somehow both difficult and easy; but she would not break that promise again.

Viserra’s first instinct led her to Aegon’s rooms, knowing that he would be the one most likely to believe there was merit in Helaena’s riddles. To only fuel her frustration, she found him lost in a groggy slumber, unable to help in any way at that moment. Briefly, she thought of seeking out Alicent, but that was quickly dismissed by the reminder that the dowager queen truly thought Helaena was lost entirely to madness.

There was one, however, whose insight and reach both within and outside the castle walls was undeniable and reliable. Despite her unease she felt in his presence, she knew that Larys Strong might be her best option.

Without delay, she sent a small parchment out with Elia with instructions to find him immediately and give him the message.

Meet in the library at once. Bring no one.

Viserra knew it might take hours for him to show, not knowing where the Master of Whisperers was currently residing. Nonetheless, she hurried down the corridors to sit and wait there between the walls of books.

She found herself unable to sit for long, choosing to impatiently pace around the rows of books for what did indeed seem like hours. Anticipating his arrival, she rehearsed how she would present this information to him without seeming like she was lost to madness herself.

When the door finally creaked open to reveal who she had been waiting for, Larys entered with an expression that showed he was both surprised and quite curious.

“I must say I am interested to know what is so important that you summon me with such urgency,” he admitted.

Viserra would not entertain any games, wasting no time in diving right into the heart of her concerns. “There have been many times Helaena has shared insights that others perceive as riddles,” she began. “Most often than not, they insinuate events that eventually merit at least some sort of truth.”

Larys raised his eyebrows, placing both hands on his cane. “I am listening.”

“I have seen it myself, as has Aemond,” she stated, her tone leaving no room for dismissal. “Helaena has not been well for many moons, but tonight she spoke clearly to me.”

“And what were her words?” He prompted, evident that he was truly interested in her continuing on.

“What he seeks will not be there. The walls bleed black in its stead.” She paused for a moment, letting him decipher the words for himself. “And when I pressed more about who she was speaking of, she told me Aemond.”

Repeating the riddle outloud, Larys’ gaze met Viserra’s as he narrowed his eyes.

“I will bring my dragon to the yard so that if we need him, he will be readily available. But we must put the castle on high alert,” she conceded, her voice steady. “Though I cannot suggest this to the council with nothing other than words from a Queen who they all believe is lost within her own mind.”

“I see where this might be a problem,” he agreed. “Your concerns will not be overlooked on my part. I will see if I can find grounds to mobilize our defenses and ensure that my eyes and ears are open wider than usual.”

“Thank you for not dismissing me,” she breathed, feeling relief that this had gone much smoother than she had anticipated.

Larys gave her a smile and another nod before turning to exit the library.

“And remember, Helaena and the children cannot defend themselves. They must be a priority if we are to fall under attack,” she reminded him.

“I will not forget,” he promised, already halfway out the door.

Viserra spent a few minutes alone in the library before heading back to her chambers. Part of her wondered if she was worrying excessively for no reason, but she knew that she would never forgive herself if she ignored Helaena’s words once again and something did indeed happen.

She poured herself a cup of wine in hopes to calm her nerves. Sitting down on the sofa, she looked over to the fire and wondered if Aemond and the army were still marching for the day or had settled down in camp for the night.

After finally finding distraction in fantasizing herself joining Aemond in battle, she played the imagined scenarios over and over in her head. It should only be a few more days until word would reach them of their arrival at Harrenhal. The battle between the two dragonriders would not take long, both skilled and riding formidable dragons. Aemond would then fly back to King’s Landing, a journey that would only take half a day.

Once she laid down on her bed, the previous distractions no longer worked to shake the words Helaena had spoken earlier that evening, Viserra found that she could only sleep for a few minutes at a time and finally decided to leave the constraints of her bed. She lacked the patience to wait until the light of dawn before putting more thought into everything. Throwing on her robe and leaving her chambers, she took to walking the halls while attempting to sort it all out.

Immediately after leaving the security of the Maegor’s Holdfast, the sounds of chaos and guards running somewhere within the main halls of the castle caused her to pick up her pace to find the source of it all. As she reached the Serpentine Steps, Alicent was quickly ascending the stairs with her skirts in hand, her face contorted with distress as she shouted to the guards behind her.

“Bar the gates and send them all to the wall!” She commanded, the urgency of her voice echoed off the stone walls. Looking to find Viserra there, she did not stop but continued back into the holdfast while addressing her next. “Dragons have been seen flying over the city and Velaryon sails have been spotted in the bay.”

Letting the dowager queen rush past her, Viserra stood there for a moment trying to wrap her head around what was happening. The walls would bleed black, she thought, were the Blacks coming to take the city? Was this what Helaena had meant only a few hours ago? Everything was happening sooner than she had thought, something that made her blood run cold.

Quickly, Viserra also returned to her chambers, donning her riding leathers and arming herself appropriately. The sound of the sept bells began ringing throughout the city, a warning to all within King’s Landing that they were now under attack. She stopped for a brief moment, looking out the window into the sky that was still heavy with nightfall. This was indeed happening and it was happening now.

Rushing next to the King’s chambers, she found that Alicent had already beaten her there. Aegon was seated on the side of his bed and she was crouched in his face with her hands holding firmly onto his arms. She was speaking sternly, giving him an occasional shake while trying to relay the seriousness of her message.

Viserra stood wide eyed in the doorway, conflicted in what her priorities should be right then. Aegon finally saw her there and attempted to push his mother aside, struggling to stand as if he intended to come to her next. As he rose to his feet, Viserra turned and left in a hurry. His look of concern would have to be left unanswered. The last thing she wanted to do was face him and have him try to hold her back.

Hurrying her way out of the holdfast and back down the Serpentine Steps, the sight of Larys and a servant girl awaiting her only added another layer of complexity to the night. He remained steady in his calm demeanor, something she did not share in that moment.

“The time for swords and bravery has passed,” he began. “You told me just hours ago that preservation must be a priority, so if you would, let this girl lead you and wait for me next.” He gestured to the girl standing beside him but Viserra furrowed her brow in response.

“Who will defend the castle?” She demanded her voice tight. “We cannot abandon the crown the moment our enemies arrive at our doorstep.”

Larys met her eyes, his demeanor unwavering. “Your determination is inspiring but to stay would ensure not only your end, but also Aegon and his line of succession.”

“How do you know this for certain?” She demanded with defiance.

“Because I do.”

Viserra’s hand instinctively went to the hilt of her sword while she quietly contemplated his words. He knew more than he was letting on, but now was not the time to divulge more into that. Her resolve finally broke, the weight of what he had said sinking in. “What of Aegon? And Helaena and the children?”

“The children are being moved to safety as we speak,” he reassured her. “I will only ask you once more to listen to me or your fate will be left in your own hands. Follow the girl.”

Taking a deep breath, she made the decision to follow his instructions. They made quick time in reaching the Small Council chambers where, to her surprise, another hidden passageway was revealed behind a large tapestry.

As they pushed on the heavy stone and entered into the dark area, the frightened little face of Jaehaera was suddenly illuminated by the torch’s light. The familiar nursemaid held fast to both children, Maelor still sleeping with his head resting on her shoulder and Jaehaera clinging to her dress. Immediately, Viserra reached out to take the princess into her own arms, holding her trembling little body firmly to her own chest.

“What now?” Viserra asked of the girl who led them there.

“We wait for our next instruction,” she replied softly, the fear shaking in her voice.

Chaos was heard gradually erupting in the castle as news spread of the impending attack. Listening to what was happening outside only made the wait seem that much longer. But when the stone door finally pushed open once more, Viserra let out a sigh of relief seeing the faces of Aegon, Larys, and two members of the Kingsguard.

“We need to move,” Larys urged. “Now.”

Viserra brought her eyes back to Aegon who’s brow was dripping with sweat. “Where is Helaena?” She asked, her voice laced with concern.

“She would not come,” he spoke firmly, knowing that Viserra would protest such an unsatisfactory answer.

“What do you mean? Why did you not make her come!” She hissed back, trying to cover Jaehaera’s ears with her free hand.

Larys’ face turned into a scowl as he looked sharply into her eyes. “One can only do as much as his body allows him.” He then turned his eyes towards Aegon who was now leaning against the stone of the corridor, tended to by the guards.

Viserra should have realized that Aegon was still in a much weakened state. Rushing through the castle was the most his body had exerted itself since he was brought home nearly dead. Irritated, she knew that Larys spoke the truth. They could not have dragged the girl through the halls without drawing too much attention and also supported Aegon as they made their escape.

“I am sorry.” Aegon spoke, the words dripping with guilt.

“It is not your fault, we will find a way to secure Helaena’s safety,” she spoke through gritted teeth, frustrated at the position they were in. “Your only job now is to ensure your own survival.”

“Indeed. I am relieved you now see that clearly.” Larys interrupted, hobbling past them both. “We must go.”

Viserra stood unmoving for another moment, running through several ideas in her head.. “Word must be sent to Aemond,” she insisted, realizing that the tides would most certainly turn if he could join her there.

“Riders have been dispatched on our fastest horses in hopes to reach him as soon as possible,” he replied without missing a beat.

“If I could-”

“No,” Larys cut her off, reading her intentions before she could get them out of her mouth. “It would be a fool’s mission to attempt to fly out and reach him yourself?”

Aegon interjected as well. “That is madness, Viserra. You do not know who patrols the skies on dragonback.”

“Rhyn’s coloring is dark and will blend in with the night sky if I am able to leave before the sun begins to rise. I am neither an inexperienced rider nor fighter, I could retrieve him,” she rebutted, looking between them both.

Larys let out a long sigh, leaning on his cane. “I am not going to waste any more time bantering with you if you are determined to put yourself in even more danger.” He seemed to think about something briefly before continuing on. “There is a way out through these passages. You would follow with us for a while before eventually parting ways. There will be an opening that leads out to the water much closer to the outskirts of the city. It would be your only chance at leaving undetected.”

Aegon’s protest was immediate, but Viserra silenced him with a look. “I know the risks but I have made up my mind. It will be weeks until you are healed enough to be of any use and even then, you do not have a dragon to ride.” The words were meant to cut in hopes he would not continue to try and dissuade her.

The message had been clear and Viserra would not be convinced otherwise. Aegon bit his tongue but did not attempt to hide his disapproval. As they continued their journey in the tunnels, the tension was thick yet not another word was said until they reached a fork in the tunnels.

“This is where you must leave us.” Larys gestured to the tunnel to the right of them. “Be swift and do not delay.”

Setting Jaehaera down, she made sure that the little one grabbed the hand of their nursemaid to continue the journey. Placing a kiss to the top of her head, she then turned to Aegon whose expression had not shaken the mixture of hurt and frustration. Her hands came up to his cheeks and she made him look her in the eyes. Seeing the glossiness of unshed tears there, her own face softened.

“I will return,” she promised. “And in much better shape than when you returned to me last.” A smile pulled at her lips, attempting to cheer him with the jest. When he did not respond how she had hoped, she let out a sigh before bringing her lips to his. It was her last attempt to relay that she had every intention of succeeding on this mission..

As they parted, Aegon returned a half smile but did not voice a goodbye. Looking to Larys, Viserra gave him a departing nod before turning to venture deeper into the tunnel on her own.

Guided only by her determination and a small torch in hand, Viserra continued on quickly without stopping until seeing light. There was just the slightest hint of dawn breaking through the darkness at the end and she felt both relieved and frustrated. She had made it to where she would find her dragon but realized that she would no longer be able to hide under the safety of night.

As she found her way to the small opening, she realized the tunnel end had been carefully disguised as an unassuming cave. A heavy mist covered most of the water and rocky embankment surrounding her, while nightfall would be safest, she was thankful for the foggy weather.

Closing her eyes, she focused on trying to find the intangible connection she had with Rhyn. It took longer than she had liked for the feeling of relief to wash over her but finally, the dragon came within her mind’s reach. She felt her shoulders relax at the sight of him descending through the mist and awkwardly attempting to land among the rocks.

Wanting no time, she kept her focus, sliding herself down the boulders and making her way to his side. Climbing quickly and securing herself into the saddle, she could feel that he sensed her own restlessness.

“Ȳdra daor zūgagon,” she spoke, attempting to reassure him. She intended to both command and comfort him with her words. “Sōvegon. Lyka.” Do not be afraid. Fly. Quietly.

Rhyn let out a low growl as he spread his wings and took into the air. She was thankful for his willingness to listen as he kept close to the rocky embankment and did not make any more noise than needed.

Feeling the freedom that came with finally reuniting with her dragon, Viserra felt like she could finally breathe. However, the newfound relief was abruptly shattered by Rhyn’s roar and his sudden pull downwards. She held tight to the saddle as her heart beat loudly in her chest, sensing her dragon’s sudden fear and not knowing the reason why. Her eyes searched the mist around them for the source of his alarm, attempting to calm him down with firm but direct commands.

Before Viserra could even attempt to steer Rhyn in another direction, the body of a large red dragon came barreling towards them through the fog. She was immediately surrounded by screeching and the heat of dragonfire just before feeling the other beast collide into them both. The force was so sudden and violent that it sent them spiraling back down towards the rocks.

In the final moments before the crash, Viserra braced for impact, laying flush against her dragon’s scales and holding tightly to the saddle. Darkness took hold of her consciousness and somehow she did not even feel it as their bodies met the unforgiving rocks below.

#fanfiction #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond x aegon ii x oc #house of the dragon aemond #game of thrones #house targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #aegon x oc #hotd #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon fic #houseofthedragon #aemond x oc #aemond smut #house of dragons #aemond one eye #aegon ii

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mommy?

Emma D'Arcy as Rhaenyra Targaryen in House of the Dragon | 1.07 "Driftmark"

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his mouth something is very wrong with me

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life's too short to write for an imaginary critic that you fear will hate what you wrote

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omggg how did I just find this?!

A Song of heart and blood - part five | Daemon Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader

Summary: After an horrible prophetical dream, you find yourself traveling through time to try and save your sister, Daenerys, from her fatal ascension to the Iron Throne. During your mission, your heart derives you from your duty and you fall in love with your ancestor

Word count: 1.7k

A/N: After a long wait, the fifth part is finally there! I hope you didn't forget about this story... In case you did, please give it a re-read. The last two parts will follow soon (for real)

masterpost

—

Was there a day when Daemon Targaryen wasn’t plotting and scheming? When he wasn’t trying to secure his succession to the Iron Throne, he was coming up with war strategies or helping his great-great-great-great-great-great granddaughter change the future of an entire dynasty.

He didn’t understand the magical side of your story, how exactly you had traversed through the stones, but he believed you.

As the sky gradually darkened, you shared with him the future you knew — the dance. The demise of King Viserys, the crowning of the usurper, the Velaryons’ betrayal to Rhaenyra, plunge culminating in Daemon's final breath, Rhaenyra’s barbarous death, and more.

Daemon wished he had brought a strong alcohol of some sort. Your tales were very difficult to hear at times.

‘’We have to stop this war from happening, Daemon.’’

The prince nodded, his gaze fixed on the flames dancing in the stone fireplace before you. ‘’How do you suggest we do so? You suppressed the wrongly-crowned king before he could be born, but no moon tea will stop Alicent from birthing another babe. My brother is determined to have a son, and he'll persist until one is born to his young bride.’’

Being wedded to a king so young and with such a considerable age difference must not be pleasant for her. She wears a crown and owns beautiful dresses, but she was forced into a role she never desired all because her father aimed to have his blood on the Iron Throne. You almost felt bad for Alicent, but you couldn’t erase the horrible things she did — the things she will do.

A reflection struck you. ‘’The king declared Rhaenyra his heir, but if you were to marry and have a babe of pure Targaryen blood, would the king be willing to reconsider your succession to the throne? His and Alicent’s children will never be pure Targaryen blood, yours could.’’

Daemon turned his head toward you, raising an eyebrow. ‘’Are you suggesting we marry?’’

Air got caught in your throat, causing you to choke. ‘’No! No, I…I was thinking of the princess. She is young, but—’’

‘’Marrying my niece has been on my mind in the past, but I’ve grown out of that idea. But you, you are of pure blood. Born from another time, but you carry the blood of the dragon.’’

Shaking your head, you stood. ‘’I cannot marry you, Daemon.’’

‘’You said you were in great danger from the hands of Otto Hightower. Marriage would ensure your safety.’’

You shook your head again, laughing at the insane words that left the prince’s mouth. ‘’You’ve lost your mind.’’

Dameon suddenly looked serious, any ounce of humor wholly erased from his earlier easygoing features. ‘’You are my blood, there is nothing I wouldn’t do to keep you safe.’’ He combed a hand through your hair, pulling your face away and forcing you to look at him. ‘’You’re safe with me. I swear it.’’

Every bone of your body believed him. If you hadn’t felt safe in his presence, you would never have revealed him your secret. You would never have come to him for help.

You closed your eyes, drinking in the feeling of his touch. ‘’But I can’t stay forever,’’ you said, reopening your eyes. ‘’I’ve played enough with the future; a marriage would have significant repercussions.’’

Daemon’s finger ghosted across your cheekbone, sliding downwards until it settled on the corner of your mouth, gently caressing your pout with the rough pad of his finger. His eyes were contemplative, thoughtful. Gradually, his touch gently lowered, your decollete now the point of his focus. His index finger ran a smooth ring around the chain at your neck, a ghost of a perplexed frown forming on his face.

‘’I don’t care.’’

‘’Birthing an heir myself will change the whole lineage, Daemon. By doing this, my sister and I may not exist in the future.’’

‘’You said yourself that you were from my lineage—’’

‘’Your and Rhaenyra’s lineage,’’ you corrected. Was he not listening to what you were saying? ‘’If you don’t marry her, your children won’t be born and therefore I cannot exist.’’

Your eyebrows furrowed as a question echoed in your head. If you disrupt too much of time, will you vanish? Unfortunately, there was no way of finding the answer to your question. Not many had dangled with time-traveling, let alone written about it.

‘’How long do we have?’’ Daemon asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.

‘’I don’t know,’’ you said truthfully, lowering your eyes to the stone floor.

Daemon lifted your chin, tipping your head up to look at him. ‘’Let’s not waste time, then.’’ He closed the space between you, his lips molding perfectly with yours.

You angled your head to deepen the kiss, not realizing how much you missed the taste of him. Your arms wrapped around his neck, nimble fingers burying in his silver hair as he pulled you against him, his clothed body flush against yours.

Then, you were suddenly reminded of Rhea Royce. ‘’Don't you already have a wife?’’

⁂

All Daemon had said before leaving on Caraxes was that he had a business to take care of. Assuming it had to do with his wife being in the way of your marriage, you didn’t ask questions. You wouldn’t like the answers.

He could have it dissolved by the king. His marriage with Rhea Royce had never been consummated, which would leave her honor intact. But Daemon had mentioned Runestone. Hopefully he’ll spare the woman’s life, you didn’t want to indirectly have blood on your hands.

To put your thoughts to rest, you busied yourself exploring the castle. The corridors echoed with the history of your house, each step revealing a new layer of the past.

Eventually, you stumbled upon one of the bedchambers, situated atop of the castle. Pushing open the heavy door, you stepped into the large chamber. Like the rest of the castle, the walls adorned large dragons crafted into stone. You ran your hand over the stone, smiling.

Dany would love this.

Curtains were draped above the large windows, a bright red shade — Targaryen red. It made the room more elegant and matched with the couch cushions. How nice must it be to sit there and look at the sunset.

Lastly, your eyes found the bed. It was smaller than the bed you shared with Daemon and the velvet bedding was slightly dusty from not having been used in a while. You laid on it regardless, tired from all your travels.

⁂

The hour was late when Daemon returned to Dragonstone, the moon casting a silver glow over the island. He should have gone to bed — with you —, but the weight of his responsibilities pressed upon him. There was no rest for the prince tonight.

In the dim light of the candlelit room, he sat at a desk and wrote a message to a Septon he trusted would keep his tongue, arranging for the discreet ceremony that would bind you and him in the morrow. It had to be done rapidly and in the most secrecy.

When the devastating news of Rhea Royce’s passing would inevitably travel across the realm, he knew that as her husband, the first suspect would be him. Their marriage was purely political. His dislike for the Lady of Vale wasn’t a secret. But if whispers of Daemon’s wedding to you were to reach the people’s ears, it would strengthen their suspicion that Daemon had something to do with it.

⁂

You had never seen a traditional Valerian marriage before. You had only read about it in books. The entire ritual involved blood to keep with the Targaryen legacy of being wed by blood and fire.

A breeze coming from the bay blew over the hill, causing your silver waves to dance in the foggy air. You had removed most of your braids for the ceremony, letting your hair cascade down your back. Atop your head sat a traditional piece of Valerian headgear, given to you by Daemon. You assumed it was old, so you treated it with the utmost care.

The Septon stood between you and Daemon, your vibrant marital robes contrasting with his dark clothes. ‘’We stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife: one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever. In the sight of the Seven, I, hereby, seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Look upon one another and say the words: Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger…I am hers and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days.’’

Although this marriage won’t last forever, you wished Dany was present for the ceremony. When you were little, you and her would fantasize about getting married and the beautiful dress you’d be wearing on your big day — and the lucky man who you would wed to.

‘’Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger…I am hers and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days,’’ Daemon repeated, his violet eyes looking into yours. He was so beautiful.

The Septon turned to you, silently telling you it was your turn.

‘’I am his and he is mine. From this day, until the end of my days,’’ Daemon continued.

You repeated the words, then, using a dragonglass blade, Daemon cut the middle of your bottom lip. He took blood that was drawn from the blade and smeared it on your forehead. You mirrored his action, smearing his blood on his forehead. The ritual felt witchcraft-y, but whispers had it that your Valyrian ancestors used magic to build this very castle.

You handed back the dagger and, in turn, Daemon cut a line in his palm. You followed suit, hissing as you drew a matching cut on your own skin. Blood trickled from the fresh cut before clasping your hands together, letting your and Daemon’s blood mix together.

‘’Blood of two, joined as one,’’ the Septon said, placing a ribbon with a traditional pattern and tying it over your joined hands as blood dripped from your injuries and to the ground. ‘’Ghostly flame and song of shadows. Two hearts as embers, forged in fourteen fires. A future promised in glass, the stars stand witness. The vow spoken through time, of darkness and light.”

A chalice brimming with wine was passed to you, and you sipped from it before passing it to your soon-to-be husband. Even standing there, you almost couldn’t believe you were marrying this beautiful man.

Daemon leaned down, pressing his cold lips against your own. You could taste blood through the kiss, unpleasing and metallic, but you ignored it and kissed him harder.

—

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