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finalfrontierpublishing · 10 months

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So it's been a while since i posted any books - mostly because i've been hiding my progress like a little sneak.

I just finished this bind last night of The Desert Storm by @blue-sunshine-mauve-morning, or really it's volume 1 out of like ??? 15, maybe. Please take whatever i say with a pinch of salt (I have had 0 sleep for more than 24 hours, and that tends to make me a little very sleep-deprivation drunk a.k.a. unhinged). Okay, on to thoughts! The Desert Storm was foisted onto me by @celestial-sphere-press who told me under no uncertain terms that I WOULD FUCKING LOVE THIS SHIT. Well, I did. This more than 1 million word epic about Ben Fuckin' Kenobi is pretty much god-tier fanfiction. It reads like a goddamn novel. I can never think of canon again without thinking that this good shit should be canon. I read it and then consumed half of it within a week, and I have zero regrets. @blue-sunshine-mauve-morning, i absolutely love you and love your writing. It is the best thing since sliced bread. It is better than sliced bread.

I also had the benefit of @celestial-sphere-press saying, hey would you want to use the typeset? MY GOD, i am grateful. I love this fic, i would have typeset it if it hadn't been typeset but Des did such a beautiful job that i am absolutely in awe and thankful that she and the author allowed others to use it. Look at it - it's so beautiful. I only had to think hey, i just gotta design the cover and et cetera and so the book happened.

Please also check out @celestial-sphere-press 's amazing post here and here, who is the only person i know who's started and is almost complete in fanbinding this epic, and is also making an author a copy of the entire series.

Some stats, if you will.

96215 words || 380 pages

Title font: Ghaomiec

I took some inspiration from starblight bindery's lovely desert scape as well as this amazing cover of Dune which i own. I love that the landscape emanates Dune vibes while being oh so Tattooine - just sand and heat, relentless loneliness and melancholy. This fic centres around Obi-Wan Infinite Sadness Kenobi so it needed SAD VIBES TM, which i tried to deliver in desolate landscape form.

Also thank the heavens for Renegade members, who in a masterful stroke of Group Buy Saves Money, managed to source extra-out-of-production colours of Colibri and help a fair number of us get really cool limited edition versions of bookcloth. I am now a proud owner of a lorge stash of Duo and Colibri of which i am now sitting on like a shifty dragon with a hoarding problem. Good luck getting your bookcloth now, Folio Society, ha ha (gloating)! This particular bookcloth is Colibri Copper which has been wholly stashed for The Desert Storm series. I am leaning on transitioning to Malachite for Rise and Fall when I get to it.

The front cover design was done with a stock image and converted to a PNG, which i then fiddled with and did some HTV magic with. It was remarkably easier to weed than expected. I tried something new and ironed the design on the naked bookcloth first before gluing it to the boards, which was a new challenge in making sure everything was aligned.

Endpapers are marbled endpapers (Renato Crepaldi) which I got from Hollanders, which perfectly fit the colour scheme of the bind. The only hiccup was as I was cutting, I realized the sheet was running in the opposite direction of his usual papers and half the size, and only yielded 3 A5 size endpapers and so my heart went noooooooooo. oh well. i guess i will use it for quartos.

Endbands are my favourite - silk in 3 colours in the french doublecore style (as i was binding this i did not have the mental capacity to handle the difficulty of 4 strands). the truth is i usually only can do 4 when I have higher brain function and am willing to spend 80% of my time unraveling it from getting tangled.

I also forgot to mention I had mild fuck-ups, I got glue on the front endpaper which I had to hastily remove with wet cloth, and the back square is preposterously bad but I'm ignoring it for now.

Anyway, i've actually managed to complete a few other binds which have not been mentioned here as they've all been gifts/ surprises or event books in some form. I am SO EXCITED, also because I am travelling in the latter half of July to San Diego and L.A. and I get to meet some bookbinding friends in the flesh. Renegade is fucking amazing y'all. I am ready to embrace these crazy lads who have enabled me for the last 1 year, even when i'm the solitary (1) weirdo from my country of origin in the server. Also... potentially bookbinding trip early next year??? I am enthused.

#bookbinding #fanbinding #renegade bindery #my books #star wars #clone wars #obi-wan kenobi #ben kenobi #ben naasade #infinite sadness #the desert storm #the ben naasade epic

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scifrey · 3 months

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NINE-TENTHS

Oh my gosh, the book is now officially out! This is the first original novel I've published since 2018 and I am very excited and very nervous to share it.

☕♥️🐉

➡️ You can read it here. ⬅️

Chapters drop Wednesdays and Saturdays, and if you're worried, the story is already finished and fully uploaded. This is not a WIP that I will abandon later--it's totally complete.

About the book:

Twenty-four is one year too young for a quarter-life crisis, but hey, Colin's always been an overachiever. He's got a degree in Sustainable Tourism, which his family says he's wasting as a barista, an annoying anxiety disorder, and no freaking idea what to do with his life. The only thing going his way is the cute coffee shop regular, a homo draconis named Dav (who, in his humanshape, is a total hottie.) Still, it'd be easier if Dav didn't have a habit of accidentally setting things on fire when he's startled. Like the café kitchen.

When Dav breaks draconic taboo and volunteers as a replacement bean-roaster to apologize for the inferno meet-ugly, sparks really fly. Everything's finally happening for Colin, until he learns that hooking up with Dav means that under dragon law, Colin is absorbed into Dav's hoard.

Possession may be nine-tenths of the law, but becoming his boyfriend's property does not make this whole identity crisis thing easier. Especially now that Colin must navigate politics, paparazzi, and legal questions about his personhood. Colin's still angling for his Happily Ever After, but the growing scrutiny on his relationship with Dav threatens their budding romance. And if he's not careful, Colin's fight for agency may just destroy symbiotic human/dragon relationships worldwide.

Beautiful cover art by @seancefemme

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cdragons · 4 months

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Bound by Embroidered Chains - Aemond Targaryen x Seamstress!OC x Jacaerys Velaryon - Chapter One

Prologue

Summary: Dragons have a habit in hoarding the prettiest of jewels, and pearls are of no exceptions.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ Obsessive Behavior (we all knew this was coming), tiny!Aemond is delulu, tiny!Jace is delulu, Dark Themes, not betaread we burn like Harrenhal, etc. Also translations for Valyrian will be added at the bottom! Also I used an online translator for the High Valyrian, so it may not be great 🫠

Author's Note: Hello everyone! Thank you all so much for the amazing support for this story's prologue, I did NOT expect so many positive reviews! I'm sorry this took so long, but I had a ton of applications and finals. But since I am on winter break, hopefully I will be able to upload more fics! Happy Holidays and big shoutout to @valeskafics, who continues to be the HOTD fanfic writing ICON that we all know and love! If you liked reading this work, reblog and comment if you want to be tagged in future installments of this work! Also I apologize for any grammatical errors, I wanted to post this as soon as possible.

You have known your entire life that you were going to be one of the many seamstresses that serviced the Royal Family.

By the age of three, your mother would teach you how to begin your very first stitches, which soon shifted to learning the most complicated patterns of embroidery. You still remember the tears in her eyes as you presented the silk-woven handkerchief that had lovely little purple and blue flowers embroidered on the borders for her birthday. Your face flushed to an almost too bright red when she insisted on showing all the other royal seamstresses and tailors your first handkerchief. But it made you smile in remembering how big her smile was that week, as she was so pleased by how much you’ve progressed at such a young age.

When you were only six, your mother had begun to teach you how to properly extract the dye from beautiful flowers and the scales of brightly-colored insects. So skilled and nimble were your fingers that you even gave your childhood playmate, Aemond Targaryen, a thick green wool cloak with green and silver dragon embroidery. The cloak’s wool had been dyed by your hand with copious amounts of goldenrod and indigo flowers. You then carefully stitched silk to line the inside of the cloak to prevent him from overheating, as even the harshest winters in the Crownlands were hardly anything compared to the summers in the North. It had caught you off-guard in the almost too-tight embrace he locked you in, but you eagerly reciprocated as you could tell he appreciated the gift more than words could describe.

It was not just a gift for is name-day from a childhood companion, but also a way to reassure him that he will one day have a dragon. And even if the gods do not grant him worthy in their eyes, he would always be considered a prince worthy of the Targaryen name in yours. After all, there were not many princes that would willingly spend all their free time with a lowly seamstress’ daughter – even if the supposed seamstress that was your mother was so heavily favored by the Queen.

“Pearl,” came a voice with a tone far too serious despite its youth, “what are you doing in the Godswood?”

You lifted your head from old tome you were studying, only to see a young boy of only nine name-days, that stood as straight as one of the stone pillars that stood in the Sept of Baelor. His white locks nearly blinded you with how the sunshine seemed to reflect on them.

“Well my prince, as you can clearly see, I have decided to take advantage of this fine day to do a bit of studying of my own.” You lifted the near ancient tome on your lap to show him the title, Myths and Legends of the Jade Seas.

Whatever outwardly beauty the book possessed had long diminished, the spine was bent from the hundreds of hours spent looking through its contents and the letters were near faded to a dull grey as the pages yellowed from age. But the colors of the ink remained as vibrant as when they were first painted on the frail sheets, accompanied by beautiful imagery of magical dragons and elusive mermaids. The details were so fine and intricate that it felt as if you only needed to touch the ink in order to be transported into the stories. You remembered how you begged either your mother or father to read it to you every night, as utterly transfixed by the colors back then as you remained so now.

“You are more than welcome to join me, but if – and only if – you share one of those apples hiding in your knapsack.”

Finally showing an expression appropriate for his age, the young prince reached in his pouch to show two gorgeous apples – the skin was practically gleaming in the sun as your mouth watered for its taste. Aemond handed one to you as he sat by your side underneath the plentiful shade of the heart tree. Scooting over to make room on the overgrown root you sat on, you eagerly showed him strange text.

“Look Aemond!” you exclaimed as you shoved the book to his nose. “This book says that there were dragons in Yi Ti! Isn’t that amazing?”

Aemond looked at you as if you had suddenly grown two heads and five eyes. “How can there be dragons in Yi Ti? All the dragons save the ones in the dragonpit and the rocky shores of Dragonstone had perished in The Doom that sunk Valyria. Everyone knows that pearl.”

“These dragons are different! According to my kepa, Yi Ti dragons don’t even need wings to fly!”

The young prince rolled his eyes at that. “How could they fly if they don’t have wings? Even Carraxes the Blood Wrym has wings, and he looks like an overgrown red snake.” Honestly, his pearl could be so silly. “Besides, what would your father know? He’s a bastard from the Iron Islands, that’s nowhere near the Jade Seas.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. “He heard so on his travels with Lord Velaryon and Prince Laenor! Apparently, these dragons use magic and live in the ocean. And they don’t even breathe fire! They make it rain and control the oceans!”

“…Pearl, I think you’ve been spending too much time making those dyes. The fumes must have gotten to your head.”

You openly gaped at your friend’s comment, completely in shock for how blatantly he dismissed you. It made you want to pound your fists on his person until he took it back. So naturally, you did just that.

“Aemond Targaryen, you take that back right now!” you shrieked. Although your actions told otherwise, the smile on your face showed that you took no true offense to his words. If anything, it pleased you to know that you could still make the stone-faced prince giggle as a boy should at his age.

“Never!”

As the two of you giggled and played, several pairs of wandering eyes spied and grimaced at the distasteful display. Although your friendship with the next generation of the royal family was no secret, much of the court disapproved of how highly the royal family thought of you and Prince Aemond’s friendship. After all, he was the second born prince of House Targaryen, born of King Viserys and Queen Alicent. By the time the Targaryen prince could toddle, great things were expected from him. From a very early age, he immersed himself in his studies befitting of a prince of Westeros. You, on the other hand, were only the daughter of a seamstress and a bastard knight who became a lord of a holding so minor that it had no name. You only skills were that you could make pretty dye, and stitch pretty pictures with a needle and thread.

But he always treated you kindly and defended you whenever his eldest brother decided to use you as his latest target for mockery. You were a precious pearl – his precious pearl – Aegon may be his brother, but he could never love Aegon as much as he loved you. True, your father being a bastard did you no favors in the Red Keep’s court, but Aemond would never tell you that himself. Instead, he openly acknowledged his bravery and commended his loyalty to the Crown. After all, how many bastards can boast that they saved the Lord Corlys Velaryon, holder of the Driftwood Throne, from a siege of pirates during one of the lord’s many voyages to Essos?

In turn, you always made sure to provide comfort and support whenever his brother and nephews decided to pick on him. Without fail, he would seek out your company – his eyes red and puffy, while his cheeks were wet from hastily wiped tears. You would take his hands and the two of you would venture out to the library’s more secluded sections. You made sure to pack whatever you have been working on with you. While you were glad that he came to you for comfort, it would do little good for either of you if you were to be punished for not completing whatever tasks your mother assigned you.

“Who cares if you don’t have a dragon?” you once asked him as the two of you laid next to each other, surrounded by books. “There are plenty members of the Targaryen line that did not have dragons, but they still lived out important lives in serving their family however they could. King Jaehaerys was considered a great ruler for how he served the realm– not for riding Vermithor. And even if you had a dragon, is that all you wish to be known for? Your grandfather, Baelon the Brave, was wise and beloved by the small folk for how he tried to make their lives easier. But all he is known for in history books is how he burned down Dorne with Vhagar.”

“Better to be known for a dragon than to disappear, not being known for anything – not even a dragon worthy of the Targaryen name.”

Sitting up against a bookshelf, you repositioned Aemond to lie his head on your thighs. Luckily the candlelight made the area dark enough so that you wouldn’t see his ears turning red. Instead, he buried his face in the soft cotton of your blue tunic as you stroked his soft silver white locks. Although his heart was beating erratically, your sweet scent along with your body’s suppleness was enough to take away any ire left in him.

“Stop that,” you ordered, “you will not be forgotten, don’t be so dramatic.” Eyes softening at his tense shoulders, you eased on the sternness of your tone. “Nyke pendagon iksā brilliant. Eman dōrī rhēdan anyone else qilōni kostagon ȳdragon Valyrio Eglie hae sȳrī hae ao. Kostā solve problems bona aegon ēza trouble lēda during aōha lessons lēda se Giēñatī. Aemond, iksā ñuha sȳrje raqiros. Gaomagon daor ivestragon kesā sagon daor rūnas.”

You pretended not to notice how tightly he clenched your dress as you ignored the how warm the spot where his hot tears grew.

As you continued to stroke his hair, Aemond made a silent vow that when he finally claimed a dragon, you would be the first person he would ride it with. He thought about how his bastard nephews would always try to take you from him, especially Jace, how he despised that boy. No, your touches would belong to him, and only him. Your sweet words and kind demeanor were his to cherish. You were his pearl – his pearl – and no one else’s, especially not the pretend Targaryen that was Jacaerys Strong.

Yes, it pleased Aemond to know that he was your best friend. But sometimes it frustrated him in how you refused to take him seriously as a man. For example, he once announced that when he claimed his dragon, he would finally be a noble dragon knight who would protect you from the most vicious of beasts. No matter how he insisted on his sincerity, you only rolled your eyes at the proclamation. You told him that you had no need for a knight, let alone a dragon knight. You had your dearest kepa for protection, and there was no finer knight in all the Seven Kingdoms in your eyes. So silly was his pearl indeed.

“Ashi’!” a new voice called out, interrupting the comfortable silence between him and his pearl. It belonged to the king’s eldest grandson, Prince Jacaerys Strong Velaryon, heir to the Iron Throne after his mother, Princess Rhaenyra. “Your mother is looking for you! She said that she needs your help with Mother’s clothes!”

“Alright!” When you stood from you spot, you made sure to brush away any dirt or debris left on your skirts. You gathered your mother’s book in both arms when you made your way to the prince. “But why did my muña not send one of her attendants instead? It would not have been difficult to find me. Everyone knows that I enjoy reading under the Hearts Tree in the Godswood during my spare time. Are you not busy with your own duties, my prince?”

Straightening his posture to appear taller, Jace did his best to sound as authoritative as his father had taught him. “I just finished my lessons for the morning, and I volunteered to escort you. Besides, I figured that it would do me some good in practicing escorting you. I’ll need to do it in the future when I am king after my mother.” His round freckled cheeks reddened to a rosy hue at that last part.

Not at all catching the terribly obvious implication, you shrugged off his words as you figured that he meant that he was using you as practice for whichever future noble lady he would court in the future. However, the suggestion was not at all lost on your friend, who was still sitting on the overgrown root, glaring at his eldest nephew with a fury that rivaled the Great Doom that sunk Valyria.

“Well, we should be on our way then. Come on Aemond, we should get going!” You held out your held for your friend to hold on to, but were quickly interrupted by the brown-haired Targaryen at the side.

“He can’t! I mean-” stammered Jace as did his best in thinking of an excuse, “-I’m afraid my uncle cannot join us. You see, um – his mother, the Queen, requested his presence in her solar.”

“I’m sure my mother won’t mind waiting for a few moments while I join you in escorting my pearl to her favorite friend, nephew.” This wasn’t a lie on Aemond’s part. While he didn’t like the idea in keeping his mother waiting for him, he despised the thought of you being alone with the Strong Knight’s eldest bastard even more. Besides, his mother adored you as if you were her own daughter. It would have gone without saying that she would be happy with her son spending time with her best friend’s daughter.

“But why would you want to risk it, uncle?” Jacaerys wasn’t going to let his selfish uncle hog all of your attention. You were his friend too! It wasn’t fair that he had find crumbs of your time and affections, while his uncle got to feast on your smiles and laughter. He had spent hours with the dragon keepers of the dragonpit to help him train Vermax, all so that he could finally show you how close he was in riding him! But you were always too busy comforting his stupid dragonless uncle!

Enough was enough. Jacaerys may have been a Velaryon like his father, but he was also a Targaryen like his mother. It was he who carried the dragon’s blood, and dragons took what they desired or felt what they deserved. And he desrved to be with you more than Aemond.

“It’s alright Aemond, we’ll talk more later! Let’s go Jace, we shouldn’t keep our mothers waiting any more than we have.” Grabbing his hand before walking out of the gardens, you weren’t able to see the younger prince throw a triumphant smirk to his uncle before once more facing you with the story of how Luke accidentally got egg in his hair.

Watching his literal bastard of a nephew walk hand-in-hand away with his pearl, Aemond Targaryen felt his fury grow more potent with each step. He hated that you called his nephew by his nickname, all while he had none. What’s worse was the fact that you allowed him to refer to you as “Ashi.” What a ridiculous name, only a lowborn such as his nephew would refer to someone as precious as you as something as study and simple like “Ashi.” You were a pearl – his pearl, in fact. A fact that he felt was important to emphasize as he watched your head being thrown back in laughter. His anger grew to an all-time high when he watched you ruffle Jacaery’s hair with abundant affection.

Not wanting to make a scene, he walked to his mother’s chambers in fuming silence. While her presence wasn’t yours, maybe he could think of a plan to get you away from his whore of a sister and her illegitimate offspring.

If worse comes to worst, he might need to recruit his sister to his cause. He knew that Helaena would especially be thrilled in receiving your presence. You were the only one besides your parents that did not treat his beloved sister like an oddity. If you were not with Aemond, you were often found stitching with the young princess. It seemed that you were the only person in the entire world that could get her to smile.

Such a sweet girl, his pearl. Someone so kind was not meant to endure the presence of lowly bastards – even if they did technically carry royal blood.

He needed to come up with something fast.

Translations:

“Nyke pendagon iksā brilliant. Eman dōrī rhēdan anyone else qilōni kostagon ȳdragon Valyrio Eglie hae sȳrī hae ao. Kostā solve problems bona aegon ēza trouble lēda during aōha lessons lēda se Giēñatī. Aemond, iksā ñuha sȳrje raqiros. Gaomagon daor ivestragon kesā sagon daor rūnas.” - “You’re brilliant. I’ve never met anyone else who can speak such fluent High Valyrian, especially at your age. You can solve problems that Aegon has trouble with during your lessons with the Maester. Aemond, you are my best friend. Don’t say that you will be forgotten.”

Tagging:

@valeskafics, @faesspace, @aphroditesmoon, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @nellychick, @asa-do-your-thing, @arcielee, @bellamys-girl1, @immyowndefender, @xxlovingfandomsxx, @elinedjarin, @meg-egg-blog, @marvelescape, @mandiiblanche, @lokiofasgard12, @boxedpandas, @anewpersonthatexists, @toodlesxcuddles, @mckiquinn, @cvspians, @aemondslove

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd au #house of the dragon x you #house of the dragon fic #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon x oc #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x oc #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x oc #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys x oc #aemond x reader #aemond x oc #reader insert

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lurkdragonstuff · 2 months

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I'm an atheist and a philosophical materialist. I don't think there's anything more to the universe than what can be observed and measured. Disagree if you want, that's fine, but take as read that this is where I'm coming from.

As you can imagine, this makes it very strange to me that my brain thinks I'm a dragon.

I have been trying to square this circle for years. Since around the 2000's, when I first made contact with the Internet, I would look in on the otherkin community, and the draconic community nested inside it, and I would think, man. I wish I could believe that. I wish I could believe that souls were real, and that I had one, and that it was a dragon, and that's why I was so odd. For quite a while, I just explained it as a furry fandom thing. Sure, yes, my fursona is feral, but ferals are furries, too. This is still true! I'm still in furry fandom, and my dragonself still acts as my fursona. But they are also, in a deeper sense, me.

I'm a secular pagan. I don't think gods exist, and I don't think magic is literally real. I can't really cast a curse on shitty charities. The moon's a big shiny rock. It doesn't care if I roar at it when the sun reflects off it just so and I can see the whole of its tidally locked face.

But my dragon brain doesn't know that. It likes the big shiny rock. It likes little shiny rocks, too. It likes to light things on fire, and considers this a sacred act, both bringing destruction to noxious things and bringing honour to things worthy of it. It likes to growl and hiss when things annoy it. It likes to collect things, to have a hoard. It likes to range around its territory, keeping an eye on what's around in what season. It finds it frustrating that its wings don't seem to work at all, and its other limbs barely better. It wants its tail back. It wants its fire breath.

I'm autistic. Sometimes speaking is hard, and I growl and hiss when things annoy me. I like to collect things related to my special interests; I have a sprawling collection of cetacean, Nintendo, and SEGA figurines, as well as lots of little animal figures. Plushies, too, and videogames, and books. I do wildlife photography, as well, marking who's around in what seasons. This is, to my frustration, limited a lot by waning energy because of chronic health problems.

If backed into a corner, to say what I really believe, of course I'm a human. It is in my DNA, expressed in a bipedal body plan, five fingers on the forelimbs only, nails and not claws, no wings, no muzzle, no tail, short neck, skin and fur instead of scales. Not even any horns. I find this frustrating, but it is what it is. I also find it frustrating when people call me 'she' and not 'they', and that really there is no feasible gender presentation that would guarantee that strangers would use the right word. The best I can hope for is that people will read the 'they/them' button on my hat, or otherwise call me 'he'. Still wrong, but at least novel.

I honestly think my draconic identity developed when I was younger as a way to explain why I was so weird. I have never been normal. I will never be normal. As an adult, I have fancy words like "autism" and "anxiety and depression secondary to post-traumatic stress disorder" and "seasonal affective disorder" to explain why I'm abnormal.

But a part of my brain, I think the same one that still believes in magic and deities even though I don't, tilts its head, then grins a sharp grin and says, "Cool story, bro. I'm still a dragon."

I generally have, for any given of my eccentricities, the philosophical materialist explanation (generally that I am either brainweird in some way or another or am playing pretend for placebo purposes to manage executive function etc.) and the dragon explanation (generally what the pretend play revolves around). But - and this is hard to explain - it isn't exactly playing pretend, either. It's me.

When I'm pretending to be Link, either playing a Zelda game or writing Zelda fanfic, Link isn't me. I might be inhabiting him as an actor, but he isn't me. When I play Animal Crossing, and I'm playing a character named after me, that's closer. It's me but greater. Me but more. Me existing in a life I wish I could have.

When I put on my mask, when I sit and daydream about the multiverse-hopping shenanigans I get up to, when I hiss at someone startling me by getting into my space, that's me. I'm not a dragon, I'm a human wearing a mask, daydreaming, hissing because "back the fuck off!" isn't allowed in the workplace.

Yeah. Cool story, bro.

I am still a dragon.

#original posts #stream of consciousness #perhaps you can catch my vibes #so to speak #dragonkin #otherkin #secular paganism #musings #original writing #psychological otherkin

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microsff · 1 year

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"Is this your hoard?" the princess said. "Isn't it great?" said the dragon. "Library cards?" "Yes! Every library in the kingdom, and many others too." "But… Why not just hoard books?" "I am. But this way, my hoard is much larger than what I could fit in my lair."

#writers on tumblr #microfiction #VSS

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my-on-and-off-writingstuff · 1 year

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To Keep the Memory alive | Daemon x Reader

Request: Oh my God! "gone" devastated me, but it was an amazing read, that being said I can ask for a part 2 with the baby and as she grows older and becomes more curious about her mother (maybe she found something that belonged to her, a book, a gem or something) and asks Daemon to tell her about reader, just Dad! Daemon with his little girl being extremely nice and cute please? (with some angst, but very very very fluff)

Summary: This is part two to "Gone" Daemon's daughter wants to know more about her mother, but Daemon is still very much grieving even after 10 years.

Authors note: I loved this idea and I hope I did it justice! Sorry for the long wait.

“Dad?” Daemon hums as he looks up from the scrolls he was reading. His 10-year-old daughter looks at him expectingly from across the room her hands behind her back as if she is hiding something. “Yes, darling?” she hesitates for a moment before coming closer to the desk. “I went to her room to..” without noticing that he scares his daughter Daemon stands up from his chair, a frown is noticeable on his forehead and his eyes are shooting fire. “You what?” He asks angrily. They had a rule, the most important rule of all, which was that she nor anyone else was allowed in the old master bedroom.

Everything was still placed the exact same way as that dreadful day more than 10 years ago. While your oils and fragrance had disappeared from the room, all your stuff was still there. He physically and mentally could not handle anybody stepping through that door as it was all he had left of you. “We agreed that you and nobody else in this castle would ever step a foot into that room.” She nods while tears are gathering in her eyes. “I know but..” “But what? You just go ignoring every rule I made for you, the gods know that you could do with a few more.” In a fit of anger not directed at your daughter but the fact you were taken from him he swipes off the scrolls on the desk.

“I went in there, because you never talk about mum, you go all moody and quiet at the mention of her name, you have scared the maid and servants in not talking about it either. I went into that room to feel connected to her, my own mum to see her stuff, smell her perfumes, look at her jewelry.” Visenya is now screaming almost matching her father’s loudness, tears are flowing down her face. From behind her back, she throws the baby blanket on his desk. “She made this did she not?”

Stunned to silence all he could do was look at the blanket. The blanket you had painstakingly worked on. When he had found it that night in Visenya’s room he did not let go of it. Instead of gifting the blanket to her like you had intended he had hoarded it for himself. Locking it up in your room, preserving it and cherishing it when he was in there. “Dad!” Visenya screams at him looking for an answer. The only thing he could do was nod. “Why are you keeping her away from me?” Is the only thing she asks before turning around and walking out of his study, not waiting for an answer.

He grabbed the blanket and hugs it to his chest. He knew that his daughter was right, he should have kept your memory alive by telling her stories about you. But every time he wanted to, he would choke up, nothing other than nonsense would come out of his mouth. While many men would have already gotten over the pain of losing their wives even after 10 years it still felt so fresh. To top that Visenya’s eyes reminded him every day of yours. He had to make it up to his daughter.

After running around the whole castle and the dragon pits, he found you in the room. Her little shoulders were shaking as she was still crying. Visenya was sitting in the middle of the room on the ground. Her back was turned to the door, and therefore she had not yet noticed Daemon entering the room. “I am sorry, can you forgive your old dad?” He sat himself down next to her and put his arm around him. Visenya looked at him still mad and shrugged of his arm. “The thing is your mother was the love of my life, she was my friend and lover, we were so excited to welcome you into our little family but then..” his words fades as he remembers the day you died. “But then she died, and my life just shattered, you were the only thing that kept me here.” This time when he wrapped his arm Visenya leaned into his side.

“What was she like?” she asks softly. “Oh she was amazing, she was so fierce, smart and just lovely. Her smile would light up everybody around here, she warmed my cold hart.” Visenya let out a soft laugh. “Did she hate me?” he swallows after hearing that question. “No, no definitely not, she wanted the maester to save to at all costs.” He lets go of his daughter and walked to the bookshelf. Visenya looked at him curiously as he grabbed a little book. “Your mother wrote down her entire pregnancy, in here she mentioned all the little things, her cravings, when she found out, when she told me, the moment she felt you kicking for the first time and every little thought she had. She carried the book around everywhere she went.”

Visenya took the book from him and carefully opened it on the first page. Her eyes flew over the pages as she read the first little thoughts you had written down. Her beautiful different colored eyes filled with tears as she hugged the book to her chest. “Can I keep it?” her voice breaks a little bit, and he nods. “Yes, from now on you can enter the room whenever you want, and I will answer any questions you have about your mom, you deserve to know her.” She smiles and launches in his arms. “Thank you, thank you!”

“I have one more thing, I would be honored for you to have.” He walked to the little jewelry box on the table. He carefully opened it and took out a little dainty necklace. “It’s Valyrian steel, these gems matched your mothers’ eyes perfectly, as it does your eyes.” Visenya’s eyes glister with tears as she carefully picks up the necklace. “She used to wear is all the time, and I wanted to bury her with it, but I could not.” He explained while carefully picking up the necklace and clasping it around her neck.

The rest of the day he told her stories about her mother. Telling how you had once fought with ser Criston Cole after being so mad at his remarks towards Rhaenyra, because you were Daemons wife Cole was able to little then take the hit and he had walked around with a broken nose for a few weeks. He realized that he much rather would keep your memory alive by talking about you than keeping you locked away and as his daughter was laughing about the stories, he knew that he should have never kept her away from your memory. Visenya deserved to know who her mother was.

____

Part three

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