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lya-dustin · 9 months

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Cupid kills with arrows

Chapter 15

Gif by @merlinaddams

Taglist:@cljordan-imperium @mercedesdecorazon @darylandbethfanforever9

He has taken to calling her his queen since that nightmare.

As far as terms of endearment go, it’s not that bad.

Aemond gets a blush creeping up his pale and freckled neck when she calls him Star Eyes.

She produced that nickname when they had been getting tipsy with an aged Dornish red and he’d been reciting the most irritating poems he could find in one of the books given to them as gifts.

Aemma had gotten bold enough to compose a very bad poem for him where she rhymed eye with sky and Vhagar to swagger.

He wrote it down, on the back cover of his poetry book, and both had forgotten about it until today when she wanted to cheer him up.

He’s been so tense, the stick up his arse back in its earlier place it seems.

They had been fine until that night at Cider Hall.

He had been puffing out his chest in pride hinting at having gotten her with child and seeing them shake in their boots when they saw the magnificent Dragon Queens they rode.

Then he had a night terror he wouldn’t speak about and suddenly he was acting as if they were waging war on anyone who didn’t see her as her mother’s heir.

Acting as if her mother was their enemy and Aemma too blind to see it.

“Something is bothering you.” She says as they eat a late supper together after making the good decision of turning down mama’s invitation to dine with them.

They had been home for less than a day, he was snapping at everyone for no apparent reason and worse calling her brothers ‘Strong Lads’ while they played ball with Joffrey in the gardens.

Joffrey didn’t even know he was a bastard yet. Her baby brother ran out of the garden in tears thanks to Aemond hinting he had two dead fathers.

“I am perfectly fine, sweet girl.” He said using her mother’s term of affection for her.

The words come out mocking her, making her sound like a prissy little princess who hides behind her mother’s skirts.

He had been as rigid as a board when they were welcomed home by them, cold and civil, and now he was scratching at her with these sharp claws of his.

“Aemond, do not scratch at me.” She warns from across the table in their new rooms.

“Have you ever considered that your mother may love your brothers more than you?” he asks again, not looking at her, as if he might say something else he refuses to voice.

“All parents have favorites; I know for a fact that your mother loves Aegon the least out of the four of you.” What the fuck has gotten into him? He was getting on her nerves with this sudden change. “I am very sure we will have favorites amongst our children, and it won’t be the same child.”

“Hypothetically, if Driftmark were to repeat itself and it was our child maimed for calling their cousins bastards, who would your mother defend?”

This was what the nightmare was about, it must be, it would not make sense if it weren’t.

Aemma is at a loss for words, frankly, she has no idea how this would go.

“Hypothetically, it would never happen because they would be raised not to give a shit about it, at least by me, and their cousins would be trueborn.” The princess said knowing the true answer.

Mother would defend her sons and grandsons because that is what any mother would do. She wouldn’t demand an eye for an eye, no one with a functioning brain would have asked for such high a price unless the assailant was their inferior.

And even then, only if done out of malice.

Alicent had been too busy waging war against her mother she forgot her reason there.

This had been an accident; Luke had been punished enough and everyone else as well.

“Aemma. You know that is not what I meant.” Her husband reminds her.

“Fine, she would likely take their side.” Once she says the words he wanted to hear, she cannot stop. Comes out like fucking vomit.

“To call them bastards is to remind all that the law for adultery in the royal family is to kill all including the children. I won’t be spared should it ever come to that because those who bring it up will say I am not trueborn either to suit their ambitions.

If I am not careful, someone will turn us against each other with the intention of having us kill each other so they can rush in with Aegon because gods forbid a woman inherits over a man.

My mother already fears that you will manipulate me into taking the sword hanging over my brothers’ head and swing it; your attitude today may as well confirm her worst fears.

So no, I don’t think my mother would choose me over my brothers, but I cannot fault her for that because I would do the same in her situation!

Is that what you wanted to hear, dear Aemond?!”

Aemma’s chest is heaving, and she feels angry enough to take it out on something or someone by the time she done.

So, she leaves, she isn’t sure where, she just needs to be out of there.

“Aemma.” And as he always did when they were children, he follows hot on her heels.

“Aemma!” He calls again as she bounds out of the room needing air and a moment away from him before she tells him Driftmark was as much his fault as it was her brothers and cousins.

Yes, he was the worst injured, but he had thrown the first insult and later picked up that rock.

It was as much his fault as it was her brothers and cousins.

“Aemma, where the fuck are you going?” He reaches out to her and takes her by the waist causing her to fight him like a madwoman.

“Anywhere, but here.” she answered somehow wiggling out of his hold. “I just need air.”

“Then let me go with you.” Aemond suggested feeling some guilt for causing her this emotional distress.

“I’d rather be alone.” The princess said knowing it hurts him more than it hurts her.

How do you apologize for making your wife voice fears she hid so deep even if he was surprised about them existing?

Mother was fond of saying how Rhaenyra would kill them to solidify her reign and apparently Rhaenyra had warned Aemma about him and his family wanting to do the same.

The two women were far too similar to each other, it was no wonder they became enemies.

When Aemond hears soft footfalls as he checked on Vhagar’s nest, he turns hoping to see his wife and being disappointed when it's his sister instead.

“I had assumed you would have been with Aemma, but I suppose it’s better she weren’t here.” Rhaenyra said quietly and yet her words still had the chilling effect of ice water running down his spine.

He felt like he was eleven again.

Small and weak, the butt of the joke and always at the mercy of anyone considered better than him.

“I will apologize to Joffrey later; I will say I misspoke and meant the Father and Ser Laenor.” The prince said quickly, wishing his hand hadn’t begun shaking as he remembered how Larys used hot pincers to take out the tongues of those who claimed mother had been father’s lover when Aemma Arryn still lived. “That should buy you enough time to figure out how to tell him the truth.”

“Thank you, I know after what happened in Driftmark I do not deserve such things form you, but you have my gratitude, little brother.” It is genuine and yet, Aemond fears her like a mouse fears a cat.

“I am not doing it for you, sister, Joffrey will already suffer enough when he learns his identity is based on a lie. He deserves a few more years of blissful ignorance.” Aemond swallowed his fear and banished the nightmares from his mind as they walked back into the Dragonpit.

Vhagar was too big for it, she preferred the beach near the caves making them walk back through the caves connecting them to Rhaenys’ Hill or take a carriage.

Rhaenyra seemed to have walked there, something he had not expected as she looked like she was about to pop.

“Thank you, anyways.” They settle for uneasy silence before Rhaenyra gets brave enough to say something else. “I am sorry for what happened that night. It was a terrible accident, and I shouldn’t have threatened violence for speaking the truth. As your sister, I should have never made you think for a second, I would willfully hurt you and instead ensured you had all the care and support you needed.”

He had not been expecting that.

What in the Seven Hells did Septa Teora do with these people?

Even mother wouldn’t apologize for trying to keep him from flying and training after he lost his eye thinking she was doing it for his well-being.

“As your goodmother I should not have assumed you were the type of man to use my daughter so cruelly.

And for that I apologize as well.”

Aemond tried not to stare as she says things, he was convinced he’d never hear in his lifetime.

He supposed his grandsire’s death had opened the path to true reconciliation.

“She told you what our quarrel was about?” he asks, and she nods sheepishly.

“Don’t hold it against her, she was quite angrily mending your shirts when I visited your rooms. She admitted to some things, and I filled in the blanks.

I have known her for seven and ten years, Aemond.” Rhaenyra doesn’t mention him not accepting her apology.

The loss of his eye and his loathing of her and her sons had defined quite a lot of him. It is a hell of a thing to move past.

He will forgive her eventually, he thinks.

Aemma can’t begrudge him that because he has accepted that it will take just as long for her to forgive his mother.

But he must ask, just to get it out of his mind and move past the thing that caused the first marital spat in his marriage.

“If Driftmark were to repeat itself, would you have done to your grandchild what you and father threatened to do?” he asks reminding himself a thing like that wouldn’t happen, that it was his fears talking.

His children would not be poisoned against their kin like mother had done believing they were the enemy.

The only enemy they had had been grandfather who would have killed them to get his wish: absolute power.

To show he was willing to make peace with them and prevent the war father and Helaena keep seeing in their dreams, he offers his sister his arm as they walked back into the caves.

“No, the children would be made to apologize for the accident, she or he would be treated with all the care needed, and the children punished accordingly.” Rhaenyra accepted his arm with a hopeful look so reminiscent of Aemma and Helaena. “We should have done that the first time around, none of us adults should have let our politics and animosity take over. I hope you can forgive me someday, little brother.”

“Perhaps I will.”

#aemma velaryon #aemond targaryen x velaryon!oc #cupid kills with arrows fic #big sister rhaenyra #aemond targaryen x ofc #ewan mitchell #queen charlotte au

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wcrriorhearts · 4 months

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@halfyearsqueen said: “You should rest, my dear. Let me help you sit somewhere.” / helaena

She was not used to Rhaenyra's presence in the way it should have been natural for sisters. When she had been much younger, she remembered spending far more time with the oldest of the family, but as the years went by and Rhaenyra had her own sons, they interacted less and less. That was not to blame solely on Rhaenyra, however. Helaena was very withdrawn and quiet, most often preferring her own company to that of others. With her mother's and grandsire's constant whisper in her ear to shun the princess, it was often best - in her eyes at least - to keep equal distance to all of them, especially after she had been wedded to Aegon. This alone had destroyed her trust in most of the adults in the family, because they had sanctioned such an unhappy union.

Naturally, Aegon had been eager to consummate the marriage right away and managed to conceive a babe immediately. Helaena had not understood the changes in her body at first and grown even more withdrawn through the suffering of everything that was ailing her. The constant movement of the babes inside her womb were the worst to her. Given how averse to touch she was, this was a living nightmare to the girl and she wanted it to end desperately, no matter how afraid she was to actually give birth. It truly felt like a punishment from the Gods to carry not one, but two children at such a young age and Helaena felt very disconnected from it all, disassociating most days, as she sat in her chambers and stared at walls. Today she felt restless and had taken to strolling the gardens and empty halls of the Keep, trying to alleviate some of the aches and pains she felt by moving. When she encountered her sister, Rhaenyra must have noticed the exhaustion etched upon her features and Helaena accepted the offered hand hesitantly to let the older girl lead her towards a chaise. "I don't feel well today. I thought walking would help but it hasn't. My stomach hurts and I am so tired", she confided in her sister, sinking into the cushions with a sigh.

#ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅʀᴀɢᴏɴs ᴅᴀɴᴄᴇᴅ ( House of the Dragon ) - Helaena Targaryen #sisters </3 #i wish they could have just had a good bond #rhaenyra would have been such a great big sister to helaena #bc i can feel that she would have respected the girl's boundaries #and supported her

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percentstardust · 8 months

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Rhaenyra sits with Aegon II in her lap, bouncing the boy in an effort to amuse him. The toy dragon he likes carrying around is in his small hand. She actually gifted him that. The princess smiles down at him as she does so.

"Don't tell anyone, but, I might take you to see Syrax, baby brother." She whispers to him since she assumes they are alone.

#open starter #& threads ( rhaenyra targaryen )#mutuals only #there was apparently a deleted scene of her bonding with aegon ii and now i am MAD we didn't get it #baby girl deserved to be a good big sister #argue with the wall

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nightsister-juisid · 1 year

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Asking for fic recommendations/ (or) Giving fanfic ideas

Someone knows or would like to write a modern AU of HoTD, in which Vyseris dies, Alicent runs away from home or is just a very negligent step mother, and Rhaenyra has to raise teenage Aegon, Halaena and Aemond all by herself even at her young age, after losing all their money due the Hightowers keeping the Targ’s family company for themselves? Meanwhile she has to deal with Aegon’s drug and criminal problems? Halaena’s autism and Aemond trouble behavior at school, who’s in love with Halaena too? Nyra doesn’t know how to deal with all that shit. But she can’t blame or ground Aemond. Since she has been sleeping with her uncle since her father’s death (Yes, uncle Daemon. The one her younger brothers adore and has saved them multiple times from starving or being poor)

Some shit similar to Shameless or skin drama. Stuff like that

#rhaenyra x daemon #daemyra #house of the dragon #rhaegar targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #halaena targaryen #aemond targaryen #aemond x helaena #alicent hightower #daemon targaryen #modern au #modern westeros #rhaenyra as a responsible big sister

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lilibethwrites · 2 years

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Hello! you would write to aemond x reader. Where she goes to Storm's End, trading instead of her brother, and instead of asking for Lucerys' eye, Aemond claims her as his wife.

To Have and to Hold

Aemond Targaryen x F!Velaryon (Strong)!Reader

Warnings: violence, NSFW, incest

Word count: 3583

A.N: Reader is the middle sister of Lucerys and Jacaerys. This is a good old enemies-to-lovers story with a happy ending.

The family was gathered around the painted table. Plans were made and changed and remade altogether in mere seconds, the lords loyal to your mother scrambling to do everything all at once to secure her rightful claim to the throne.

“Send us, mother. Dragons are faster than ravens,” Jacaerys insisted when the matter of reaffirming old oaths came up.

On your mother’s command, he was to fly south and Lucerys was to fly north, to Storm’s End. Luke agreed to the task, yet you could tell his hesitance from the way he tried to conceal his fidgeting. The rattled nerves made him seem smaller than he was as he hunched over, nodding to the duty given to him.

So you stepped up, though only after the meeting was adjourned. Lucerys was too proud to allow what you have intended otherwise, but you were too fond of your baby brother to let him fly through the treacherous weather of the North alone.

“Mother. A word, please?”

Rhaenyra intended Lucerys to familiarize himself with diplomatic duties which were sure to come in waves following her own coronation. Your proposal was compelling nevertheless. Storm’s End was a flight too difficult for your younger brother to make alone, and you as his companion might soothe his nerves and might even compel Lord Borros Baratheon to be kinder to the message you were to deliver.

“Very well, then,” Rhaenyra reluctantly agreed to your proposal but only on the condition that you would go in peace: as envoys and not as warriors.

The flight to Storm’s End was uneventful. With jokes and friendly teasing, it almost felt like your regular flights above the Dragonstone on beautiful mornings and starry nights. Except there was strong wind and downpour all at once, and Lucerys became quieter as you approached your destination.

“Come on, Luke. I will race you to the courtyard!”

Your dragon was older, not big enough on her own to be considered mature yet, but bigger in comparison to Arrax, which made Arrax faster in contrast.

So Luke landed first, and you were mere minutes behind him.

“Well done, brother. You beat me. You shall have my slice of the pie this supper.”

But Lucerys didn’t seem excited about what would make him jump up and down if it were any other time. He didn’t even smile. He was facing his sister with a hand gripping the saddle on Arrax and the other clutching the hilt of his sword, but his young face was contorted in concern as he looked through her. If you hadn’t known him better, you’d almost misread it for fear.

“What is it?” You asked, but Luke only remained motionless, looking beyond to the walls of the keep.

It was then that you saw it in the flash of lightning that lit up the sky for a moment. Vhagar. She was big enough to make the outer walls of the keep seem like miniatures. You gulped, though remained stoic on the outside for the sake of your younger brother. You accompanied him to support him, not to plummet him down into the endless pit of fear. Vhagar meant, however, the Prince you’d rather see the least had beaten you to Lord Borros. You only hoped he was given a chamber of his own, and you’d deliver your message and slip out without ever facing him.

“Come on, Luke. Let us haste. Mother’s expecting us back for supper.”

The dark and empty hall was as hostile as its Lord. And in the corner stood Aemond Targaryen with one of Lord Borros’ daughters. She seemed tense. You could tell, because so were you.

“Come on, Luke.” You nudged your brother, and he held the sealed message out for the guards.

As the Maester to Lord Borros slowly dragged his feet to his master’s seat and relayed the message to him in hushed whispers, your eyes were trained on Aemond’s. He stood tall and proud, looking at you and your brother with disdain in his eyes and disgust in the way his lips curled up.

Luke clutched his sword once again, and you squeezed his shoulder. “Let go of it, brother. Remember your oath to mother.”

With Luke unable to marry, Lord Borros without a son to offer you, and most importantly, with sweet promises laced with poison seeping into his ear all the way from King’s Landing, Borros Baratheon broke his oath. On any other day, you’d remain and quarrel, threaten the Baratheon forces to bend the knee to the true Queen and not to the Usurper King, but on that day, you wished nothing more than to escort your brother out to safety.

“We thank you for your consideration, Lord Borros,” you spoke without reverence. A turncloak deserved only the traitor’s death. But you’d return for it another day.

Meanwhile, Aemond’s gaze burned into the back of your head as you put a hand on Luke’s back to signal him it was way past your time for departure.

“Wait, my Lord and Lady Strong!” Aemond’s humiliating tone echoed off the walls.

“Luke—”

Fiery as ever, Luke shrugged your hand off and turned on his heels to face Aemond.

“Mind your tongue! Apologize to my dear sister right now!”

“Hm. How about you apologize to me for trying to steal my brother’s crown, traitor?”

“I will do no such thing!”

“Then you are a coward as well as a traitor and I will have your eye, bastard.”

Aemond ripped the dagger from its sheath and threw it flying towards Y/N and her older brother.

With each lightning that struck, the sapphire eye in place of the one Luke once slashed out glimmered. It seemed as if it had a mind of its own, no doubt just as vile and dangerous as its owner.

“As payment for mine.”

“No,” Lucerys stood his ground.

Aemond all but jumped forward then, spurred on by the courage of a boy he saw inferior to him in all regards. Lucerys to stand against him, tall and proud, was a massive hit to his pride.

As Aemond picked up his dagger and moved for Lucerys, you stepped in between your brother and uncle.

“NO! No!”

Your intervention caught Aemond by surprise. He was intrigued, amused, even. What a fine, fiery woman his nephew has turned out to be. Shame she was a bastard all the same.

“Please— Aemond. My Prince. Please—”

“What? Do you plead to pitch in?” he stared into Y/N’s eyes then. He was unyielding, unflinching.

“Luke, go. I command you. As your sister, I command you to leave!” You pleaded with Lucerys, but he stood unmoving behind you.

“Lucerys!”

“No…” Aemond was amused. “No, your eyes are of no value to me. I want his eye!”

Luke would have escaped had it not been for his older sister. He would have turned around and made it to his dragon as you demanded. Yet, only a few acts were more loathsome than leaving kin to the wolves. Besides, Rhaenyra would’ve shredded him to bits and fed him to Arrax for all to see.

So Luke kneeled to take the dagger. Aemond’s request was fair after all.

“Perhaps not my eyes,” You spoke hastily with your hand wrapped around Luke’s wrist in an effort to stop him.

“But demand what you deem worthy of me and you shall have it. I beg of you, Aemond. Let my baby brother return to our mother. He came only as an envoy. He means no harm to you.”

“Hm.” He seemed to consider the offer genuinely that time. “As if you could harm me if you tried. Well, it seems the girl has bigger balls than you, bastard. You’re strong only in name, Lord Strong.”

Then he turned his attention back to you with a cruel smirk that pressed his lips into a thin line.

“You would trade your life, no matter how worthless, for your bastard brother?”

“If it is my life you demand, you shall have it. But allow my brother safe passage first.”

It was Lucerys’ turn to protest then, but you took a step forward, hoping that Aemond would be merciful enough to at least spare your brother the grim sight of the execution of his sister.

“I won’t kill you, dear Nephew. Oh, no. That would be entertainment for what? an hour? No, I will marry you,” His eye widened and he grinned as if a child got a platter of cakes and pies all to himself.

“Go on, then, pup,” He nodded to Lucerys pulling at the sleeves of your damp travelling coat, begging you to stop.

“Go with your worthless life and carry the heavy news to your false Queen—that her daughter is to be defiled by Prince Aemond. Perhaps she will be overjoyed to see what true Targaryen offspring looks like.”

You were trembling then. From standing in a stone hall, dripping head to toe from the downpour you have just escaped from, or from the cruel design Aemond has traded you for your brother’s eye, you didn’t know.

Your brother was looking at you incredulously, clutching Aemond’s dagger with his shaking hand.

“Go—go, Lucerys,” you mumbled between shaky breaths that threatened to explode into a sobbing fit. “You’ve heard Prince Aemond. Relay the news to the Queen.”

“Sister—I won’t leave you—”

“How sad,” Aemond spoke joylessly, mocking Luke with his lips downturned in an exaggerated fashion. “Will you cry, pup?”

“Sister, I shall return. I promise—”

“You will do no such thing, Lucerys,” your back was turned to him, your tears concealed from his vision. “Now go.”

“Oh, and I will have this back,” Aemond reached behind Lucerys, tearing the dagger from his hand and sheating it back to its place on his belt.

Aemond took his leave after Lucerys’, all but dragging you to Vhagar. You grappled to reach for your own dragon but to no avail. Aemond’s vice grip would sooner rip your arm from your shoulder before he let you loose.

“Did you think I would let you fly on your own? What do you take me for, a fool?”

“No. You are no fool. But you are a cruel monster.”

It seemed to please him, and he snorted.

“A monster who is nought but a bully had it not been for his dragon!”

That, however, seemed to have gotten to him. He stopped in his track under the downpour abruptly and struck you across the face. It was your time to grin. For all his quiet mystery, his underbelly was clear as day.

“My Prince forgets who was there on the night he usurped Vhagar from her rightful successors. You were but a scared child who stole what you did not deserve.”

His fingers wrapped around your neck, squeezing so tight that your vision soon turned blurry and you gasped desperately, clawing at his on your throat. There was nothing but fury in his eye, wide with surprise that a woman would speak so plainly to him, and red with rage and the rain.

“Speak but another word and I shall send your skull to your whore of a mother!”

He let go and you collapsed to your knees, coughing and gasping for air. Then came waves of hiccups and sobs, not out of fear or misery but out of utter wrath.

“Save your tears. If it is sympathy you hope for, you shall get none from me. You are a foul bastard just like the rest of your brood and you shall be treated as one.”

Deep down, however, the deal he had just struck excited Aemond. His mouth watered at the thought of his reluctant but fiery bride in their marital bed, as they consummated the marriage and repeated the act over and over again until her belly was swollen and ran around the Red Keep children of Aemond’s own.

She was still a filthy bastard in his eye, yet if he had to choose one of his nieces to tolerate, he’d gladly choose Y/N over the others. Back when they all grew up on King’s Landing, he did have a crush on her, after all. Though it was silly, and he ripped the roots of it long ago. At least he thought so.

Something about her dark hair, livelier complexion, and eyes… her eyes. The defiance and pride in them. And she was brave; braver than most, braver than even his drunk, sorry excuse of a brother and father.

Back at King’s Landing, Alicent was rightfully outraged by the turn of events. Of course, you didn’t expect a warm welcome from your mother-in-law, and you didn’t get one.

Most of your days leading up to the wedding were spent in a chamber of your own with your door locked and latched on you and with a Kingsguard standing watch at all times. It was lonely, except for when Aemond came to visit, which he did almost every night.

He sat by the fireplace and you sat on the bed. Though at first not a lot of words were spoken, soon you realized just how much his conversation entertained you, and that you looked forward to his visits.

It was one of those nights that he stopped by with a heavy book under his arm.

“I had the Maester copy this for you,” he spoke dryly, but he had a hint of a self-satisfied smile on his lips.

He set the book down on the table and flipped through the pages.

“If you put your nose to it, you can still smell the ink.”

Aemond didn’t expect you to indulge him the way you did. You walked up to him, and with your cheek to his, joined him in inhaling the scent of ink on parchment pages.

“What is it about? The book?” You asked with genuine interest, flipping through the pages as Aemond pulled away to look at you incredulously. You weren’t resisting him, dismissing him, or threatening him with a slit throat in his sleep as you usually did.

“It’s—it’s on the history of Valyria. This is the first volume of many.”

“Oh, I remember this book.”

“You do?”

“Yes!” You pulled away with a proud smile of your own. For a moment, you looked like two ordinary lovers conversing by the fire, not enemies who supposed to hate each other and about to be united only as torture for one another.

“Remember Aunt Leana’s funeral?”

Of course he did. That was when you mocked Aemond for not being a dragon rider still, and told him the Gods were cruel not to give him the handsome face Aegon was blessed with. How silly were you back then. But how could you know that Aemond would grow up to be the Prince you’d fall for day after day?

“Yes?” he responded warily.

“Well, you were reading this then. I tore a page out, and you were so cross you told on me to my mother,” you giggled, giving him a playful slap on the shoulder before seating yourself by the fireplace.

Aemond smiled as well, approaching his usual seat cautiously as if not to spook a skittish prey. When you nursed your cup of wine without a flinch, he sat by you. Though his face was turned to the fire, he stole quick glances at your face, your neckline revealed by your evening robe, and your delicate, ringed fingers wrapped around the cup.

“Regretfully, you were fluent in High Valyrian back then and I knew very little, and nothing much has changed ever since.”

“Oh,” Aemond caught your eyes, searching for the dark, burning dislike you had for him that he came to expect. Instead your face was relaxed, and your eyes were almost that of a lover’s. Then, you reached for his hand. It must be the wine, Aemond thought. What else?

“You shall have to teach me.”

“I shall arrange the Maester—”

“I asked you, Aemond, not the Maester.”

From then on, Aemond visited you every night without fail. He came earlier and left later into the night. Though he always brought books, parchment and ink, very little High Valyrian was actually studied. His days were eventful and you loved to listen, and he loved the way you reminisced their days of youth.

So, on a night like that, with your hand on his over the table, you spoke the words that almost stopped his heart.

“I wish you would stay the night, Aemond. It gets awfully lonely some nights.”

He blinked a few times, unsure if his ears heard what you spoke, or what he so desperately wished you would.

“It—it would be improper before the wedding.”

“You took me hostage, Aemond. Traditions are obeyed very little in our marriage.”

That night was the first time you called what was slowly blossoming between him and you a marriage. The words you spoke took him by surprise, just as the way you said them—playfully, with no hatred or resentment.

“You offered yourself up. I was content enough having your brother’s eye.” That was Aemond’s attempt at humour in response, a macabre and perhaps a twisted one that would have gotten raise out of any other woman. Yet you only looked at him for a second, then laughed.

“Yet you did not have to lock me up. I would not have run.”

“No, but my brother would have stolen you from me.”

“Oh, surely. Aegon did promise to demonstrate to me… what was it? Real manhood in case you ever failed to do so.”

“He did?” Aemond frowned. Was that what jealousy felt like?

“Mmhm. I told him I was confident you would make a good husband.”

Though the ceremony was mere days away, Aemond was still not used to being called your husband, especially by you, and he barely got used to wearing a band of gold around his ring finger.

“This would be a good time to say that I would make a good wife, as well,” you joked, hoping to pull Aemond out of his moment of silence.

Instead, Aemond stared at you. He was unblinking and impossible to read. Indeed because his face was impossible to read, it came to you as a surprise when he closed the distance between you and himself and locked his lips with yours.

It was gentle, way gentler than you assumed Aemond was capable of. When he pulled back just enough to study your face, you only whispered “Do it again.”

The caution and restraint went out the window then. His tongue danced across yours and you gripped each other desperately, pulling at your clothes and moaning your names.

Aemond ended up not only staying the night as you asked but consummating your marriage even before the ceremony itself.

It was gentle and cautious at first, but only briefly, before baser and more primal urges overtook you both. You woke up in Aemond’s arms with a dull but sweet ache between your legs and marks in the shape of his mouth and fingers all over your body. Likewise, Aemond woke up with raw lines of skin where your nails had dug into his flesh.

You took your bath together, and Aemond postponed his sword practice for a private noon at the library with you. Though it came as a surprise to neither of you that there was more kissing and touching than reading.

Then, things changed rapidly. Your door was no longer locked, though that might very well be because you all but moved into Aemond’s quarters. You became inseparable. You were there with a book or your embroidery when Aemond trained, you flew together, broke fast and had supper together in his bedchamber.

The only time you regretfully parted was when Alicent—who also surprisingly became like a mother to you, and you a daughter to her— insisted that your fitting for the wedding gown must be kept private and away from the prying eye of the groom. It was bad luck, she insisted, if Aemond saw you in your gown before the ceremony.

“And have you asked mother and the Septa if it is good luck or bad if I have you in your gown?” Aemond teased you, making you blush whenever his words came back to you as the tailors worked ceaselessly to finish the dress before the ceremony.

Neither of you could say if it was indeed bad luck or not, but you found out that it was delightful when Aemond lifted your heavy skirt up and snuck between your legs on your wedding night. He had you in it, just as he promised. Though it was a shame that he grew too impatient to undo the ribbons and laces, so he instead tore and ripped the dress apart, leaving it as a cut of tattered, expensive silk on the floor as the night went on.

You saw the sorry state of the dress in the morning. Well, as much of it as you could see from Aemond’s arms around you, keeping you flush on his body.

“Aemond! You shall never see me wear a lovely dress as this once was for you again!”

“My sweet wife, you should not wear anything for me,” Aemond whispered groggily, still in the sweet clutches of slumber, and he pulled you for a kiss that promised you would not be leaving his bedchamber for the day.

Aemond Tag (let me know if you'd like to be added to it):

@cherishedauthor @schniiipsel @verycollectivecreator @dangerousbluebirdpoetry @aemcndtargaryen @m1ndbrand @iorveth-scoiatael @let-love-bleeds-red @imakeangelscry @midnightindiewolf @queereddie @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @nighttwingg @mllemarianne @lomllino @tinykryptonitewerewolf @mirandastuckinthe80s @loverandqueenofdragons @fultimefangirl @lenasvoid

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #hotd #house of the dragon

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arabellasleopardcoat · 5 months

Text

Lookalike (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Inside the highest tower of the Red Keep, lives a girl with long silver hair...

Warnings: Oh man. What a trip. Rapunzel, innocence kink, daddy issues, cursing, mature language. Light groping, kissing. Daemon, and all his usual warnings. Manipulation. I tried to make it whimsical. You know, a fairy tale.

Requested: Yup. For the bingo. Daemon + retelling of another story. Posted it early because I couldn't sleep last night so I stayed up finishing this.

Once upon a time, in a far away land called Westeros, lived a King and a Queen. The Queen was a beautiful woman, with hair made of spun silver and gold.

The King and the Queen had a daughter, a bright girl called Rhaenyra. They loved her deeply, but as many powerful men behind him, the King could not help but wish for a son.

When the Queen had carried Rhaenyra, her pregnancy had been harsh. She had struggled to fall with child, and when she had, she had been sick the whole time. The Queen was not too sure if she could withstand another pregnancy.

“My love, I need my heir.” The King said to her. “You must help me and try again.”

“But husband, you know we cannot. The Maester said pregnancies were too rough on me."

“If I can't have my heir, I fear I will lose my throne!”

So the Queen decided to try again. Soon, she was with child. Yet, the Queen could feel something was different, this time. She got twice as large as she was when she was carrying Rhaenyra, her body ached even more. Only the hottest baths could soothe her abundant pains.

“This pregnancy is not normal, not normal at all.” Said the Maester, when examining the Queen. “I fear the delivery will be hard.”

And hard it was. For there was not one baby but two. A girl and a boy, a moon and a sun. The parents only found out when the Queen was unable to deliver the baby, and the King, believing it to be his precious heir, ordered the Maester to cut her open.

Wailing into the world they came, shrieks so loud they rose half the Red Keep. Every bell in the city was toiling for them. The King named his heir Baelon. The girl, the little moon, was forgotten. That was you.

Too young to know it then, your first hours were spent in your sister's arms, both of you forgotten in favor of the new heir. But it was barely hours at all when your little brother passed away.

At the funeral, the King was the picture of despair. His Queen was dead by his hand, his heir lasted no longer than a day. Now a father to a baby girl he didn’t know how to care for, and an unruly maiden.

Perhaps, sensing his despair and hoping to offer some words of comfort, and Arryn cousin took you from him and gasped:

“By the Sevens! If she is the very image of Aemma as a babe.” No one took in consideration that this Arryn cousin was not, in fact, older than the Queen.

“Is she?” The King asked, on the verge of tears. Your father could not stop remembering your mother’s face, as the Maester aided your entrance into the world. Her cries haunted him even in his sleep. He was turning into a decaying corpse, from inside out, guilt rotting him alive. “Rhaenyra, come here.”

“Father?”

“Does she look like your mother?”

Your sister squinted at you. You yawned, a toothless, sweet thing. Rhaenyra wasn't very knowledgeable about babes, but she liked you. You had grabbed into her finger the first time you had seen her, tiny fingers turning into the most adorable rings.

“She has her beauty.” She answered, politely. The King hummed, an idea sparkling into his head. Soon, the highest tower in the Red Keep was being repurposed, and the Hand relocated.

Nine and ten years later, that brings us to you, in a continent named Westeros. Inside it, Seven Kingdoms. Inside them, a city called King's Landing. Inside the city is a castle. In the castle, a tower. In the tower is a room. In the room, a girl. You.

You stared at your reflection, squaring your shoulders. You gave yourself a big smile.

“Father, I want to try claiming a dragon.” You repeated to the mirror, before shaking your head. “No, no. Too disrespectful. Lord Father, I was wondering if I could go and try to claim a dragon?”

The reflection did not answer. You frowned. You didn't like groveling, but you weren't too sure of what else you could do. Perhaps, sending him a note would be better.

As the youngest sister of the heir to the Iron Throne, you had led a sheltered life. Even more so, as the spitting image of his late wife, according to your father. When looked in the right light, your eyes were the same shade hers had been. And the way you spoke did resemble the short, clipped speech of the Vale.

No one dared question those things, even though your accent had been ensured by your father by providing you with tutors only from that region. The King was very protective of you, set on expiating his guilt over the death of your mother by ensuring your safety.

All of your care had been provided by him after her death. Viserys knew nothing about child-rearing, but refused to let any servant touch you beyond the wet nurse. You grew into a child, and your father didn't even know how to cut your long, silver hair.

Years passed, and soon you learned to take care of yourself. Used to long hair as you were, you never thought about cutting it. Instead, your mind was preoccupied with more urgent matters. For example, how could you get out of the Red Keep.

Sometimes, your father's protection turned overbearing. Unlike your older sister, you were not allowed to leave the castle. Nor had you been allowed to partake in the activities other young ladies did. The only way you had managed to know the world around you had been through your books and observations.

Your rooms were in the tallest tower in the Red Keep, ensuring you would be kept safe from intruders and even invaders, if such a thing ever came to pass. You had double the guards Rhaenyra and Viserys did. Instead of providing his new Queen with a sworn shield, he had chosen to devote all the Kingsguard to you.

While you knew your tower had been used for other things before, it had clearly been refurnished. Now, it worked as a castle of its own, inside which you had a tiny kitchen, bathing quarters, rooms, and a library. The idea was that you would never need anything outside it. A tiny universe, just for you. You had plenty of space for your books and trinkets, but it made for a lonely existence.

Each time there were unknown men roaming the Keep, you got sent back to your tower. Your father didn't like the idea of you being married off or corrupted by them. You were too precious, too good. He had said that when the day came, he would find you a good match. One that, you suspected, would keep you close to home. Perhaps Aegon, or one of your cousins in the Vale.

If you married at all, of course. Your father had gone through a phase of encouraging your faith in the Seven, in the hopes of you deciding to be a Septa. If you did, the King would be most pleased, for it would mean you would never suffer the same fate as your mother.

You wanted neither. What you wanted more than anything was to see the world, do the things Rhaenyra told you happened outside the Red Keep. And according to you, it would all get started if you got your own dragon.

With a dragon, you would be protected. Your father always used your lack of one as an argument for denying you the experiences ladies your age had. Your egg had not hatched, but if you claimed one, you would surely be allowed to leave.

Unfortunately, what was required to be able to bond with a dragon had been deemed too dangerous for you. King Viserys had banned you from the dragon pit, arguing that dragons could be unpredictable.

Today, you had been sent back to your tower due to an impromptu visit from your Uncle Daemon. You knew the man by reputation only, by how much he angered your father. If there was one person who you were prohibited from speaking to, it was him.

You had heard the rumors, of course. A few years back, after your mother's passing, he had taken Rhaenyra to a pleasure house. Whatever had happened inside was between her and him. To your father, though, it was enough to keep you away from him.

Smile. Square your shoulders. Try again to assert yourself. You eyed your reflection once again, wondering how you could convince the King to let you try to get a dragon. Outside, something scraped against a rock, again and again. Curious, you went to the window.

On the very base of your tower, there was a man hopelessly attempting to climb upwards. He was very dashing, sporting the same silver hair you did, only much shorter.

“Who are you?” You asked, slightly frightened. In truth, you were not used to strangers being so close to you. Your father always said men were dangerous, and that outside the Red Keep there were aberrant creatures, mean and ruthless, that hurt young maidens for their enjoyment. “Step away from my tower, or I shall call my guards!”

The man ignored you, choosing instead to stab a sword between the rocks that made up your tower. You screamed, alarmed.

“Stop that! That's not allowed, you are damaging my tower.”

The man ignored you, trying to use his sword to climb. He grunted in exertion. You ran towards your chambers and filled a jar with water. Then, you ran back to your window and dumped it on his head.

The man shrieked and fell down the few meters he had managed to progress. You laughed, startled.

“Aren't you a fearsome thing?” He muttered to himself. Then, he looked up at you, with the most purple eyes you had ever seen. “Please, Princess. Help me out.”

“Why should I? You are an intruder.” You glared down at him, not even entertaining the notion, but deciding to play along regardless. In truth, you were curious about him. And starved for companionship.

“I am being chased.” He screamed up at you, frantically looking behind him. “Please, help me.”

You leaned down towards your window, bracing your arms on the edge of it.

“Bad business, that.” Your voice was cheery and woefully uninterested. This was the most exciting that had happened to you in years, you were not about to stop it. But at the same time, you did remember all of your father's warnings. There were people out there that were not kind.

“Damn it, you are just like Aemma. Pair of cynics.” He cursed, and started to try to retrieve his sword. Your eyebrows raised.

“You knew my mother?”

The man looked up, shielding his eyes from the sun with a hand. He squinted at you. His bone structure reminded you of someone.

“I did.”

Your mother. A cynic. You smiled. No one had ever told you about her, not beyond all those polite things everyone said about the dead. How kind she was, how beautiful and learned. It did nothing to make you feel closer to her, these empty platitudes. They were generic, they could be talking about any woman.

Your father never went beyond that, either. The Aemma he talked about was an idolized version of her, a woman frozen into a perfect state of likeness to the Mother. He didn't allow anyone to contradict him, not even Rhaenyra. When you were younger, she had told you your mother had been hesitant about having another pregnancy, and struggling to carry another baby to term. Your father had banned her from visiting you during the next six moons.

But this stranger was speaking of her as if he knew her well. Your heart ached to know more about your mother, know the real her. It was enough to help you make your choice. You gathered your hair and threw it down the window.

“Come up then.” You ordered.

The man looked at the mass of hair in bewilderment. He touched a strand of it, fascinated by the way it picked up the light. He did not move.

“Use it as rope. You won't hurt me.” Were all men so dumb? Surely, if this one was so slow, he could not be a threat.

“Of course. Magic hair. Fucking Viserys.” The man started to climb. He got quickly inside, panting with exertion.

“You know my father, too?” Your body tensed. This, you did not like. What if he was one of the men that were supposed to visit the castle today? One of those who corrupted and hurt young maidens?

Your heart started to beat harder and harder. You tried to convince yourself he might not be a bad man. Perhaps, he had met the King through your mother. Regardless, you turned away from him, keeping your voice and posture deceivingly calm.

“Would you like some water?” You did not wait for an answer, starting to move towards the kitchen. You reached into a cabinet, as if searching for a cup.

The man followed. You could hear his footsteps on the stone floor.

“I do know your father.” His voice was strange. As if he were realizing he was making a mistake but couldn't pinpoint why. Uninterested, you took out a cup. “He is a great King.” He added, hurriedly. Just in time for you to grab a pan, turn and smack it against his head as hard as you could.

The man dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes. You hiked up your skirts and rushed to his side. Kneeling by him, you took a closer look at his sword and grinned. You had seen it before. In your books. That was Dark Sister, Visenya's sword.

You had caught Daemon Targaryen. What better proof to show your father that you were not helpless? You tied him to a chair and gagged him for good measure. Then, you pushed him inside your bathing quarters. Only then did you call for a guard.

“Could you summon my father? I need him.” The guard bowed, but didn't speak. Most of them didn't. Your father said they weren't allowed to.

Despite not receiving an answer, you knew your father would be here soon. He always came when you called. You placed a kettle in the fire. Before it could boil, King Viserys was already there.

“Dear.” The King kissed your forehead. You tried not to wrinkle your nose at the smell of herbs and milk of the poppy. Your father always smelled like a medicine cabinet. “As beautiful as your mother, like always.”

You smiled.

“Father. Tea is not ready yet, but sit.” You pointed to your small parlor. When you were a child, the two of you had used to pretend you were a great lady, hosting tea parties there. It had been how he had taught you courtly manners.

The memory was bittersweet. Your father was good to you. He had raised you as best as he could, loving you more fiercely than any of his other children. It was not your intention to upset him, but you knew this topic would do exactly that.

“Were you lonely, my heart?” The King settled on one of the loveseats. You sat across from him.

“I did miss you.” You gave him a coy little look. “But I asked you to come for something else.”

“Do tell.”

“Father. I think I am ready to claim a dragon.” You rushed to say, almost tripping over your words. Already, you could see how his expression was clouding over, a storm raging behind his eyes.

“You know you are not.” The King answered, sternly. “It's too dangerous.”

“I can handle myself.” You fought for your tone to remain even. If it came out too angered, your father would say you were hysteric or having a tantrum, and refuse to take you seriously. So was the curse of being a woman.

“My heart, you have never stepped out of this tower.”

And you had not. But what did dragons care about one's knowledge of the world? You had read about dragons bonding with babes, sharing their cradle with them. To claim one, being well traveled or wise was not required. One had to be chosen, that was all.

You raised your hands in the air, palms up, as if placating a beast.

“I don't want you to get upset, Father. I wanted to prove to you that I am capable, too.” You got up and opened the door to your bathing quarters. “Do not be scared.”

The bound Daemon was still gagged, inside the tub. This time, though, he was awake. Upon seeing his brother, he immediately started screeching and squirming, making up a ruckus.

“Shh.” You said to him, kicking the tub a little. He was turning out to be a very annoying guest. “As you can see, Father, I caught him.”

“And you put him in the tub.” The King said, perplexed.

“He was dripping water all over my floors.” But your explanations fall on deaf ears, since your father has already moved on from his shock. He grabbed Daemon's shirt, forcing him to sit upright.

“Haven't I told you this tower is out of limits?” The King barked at him. “I will throw you into the deepest, more dark and humid dungeon I can find, and then I will…”

“Father.” You did not like being ignored. Daemon was a secondary concern, you just wanted to know if you were allowed out now.

Yet, your father seems to think the issue was an entirely different thing.

“Oh. Sorry, dear. What father meant is that Uncle Daemon has been very bad.” He gave him a shake for good measure.

“I can tell.” Your tone was flat. “Have I proven myself enough to be allowed to try to claim a dragon?”

The King let go of Daemon. He turned towards you and tenderly started checking you over for injuries.

“I would die if something happened to you.” He answered, evasive. You didn't need to be a mind reader to know what he was thinking. It was too dangerous. It was a no.

Five more long days went by. Poor you, having to stay all day in your tower. After Daemon, your father had now deemed it too dangerous to allow you to roam the Red Keep. It was the tower and nothing more. All you could do was sing Old Valyrian songs and look out the windows. Sometimes, birds would chirp from above, and you would feel slightly better, as if they were singing with you.

Perhaps it had been your song, what had led him to you. Perhaps it had been his own guilty consciousness for a sin long forgotten, or a sliver of empathy for the lonely girl in the tower up above. Whatever it was, before the sixth day came to an end, Daemon appeared under your window.

“Princess, Princess, let your hair down.” You heard him say. You walked to your window, curiously. Daemon was back!

“Come down if you want to be free.” The Prince ordered. “I do not have much time.”

His words stilled you. Freedom. Your father often said freedom was a dangerous thing. If you let people make their own choices, it was much more likely that they would choose unwisely. That was why you were kept in the tower, safe from the world and bad decisions. As long as King Viserys controlled your life, you would be protected.

But what if you left? What if you ran, jumped out of your tower and made your way to Dragonstone to get your dragon? You imagined a version of yourself, dress fluttering in the wind like a flag as you ran, barefooted in the sand. You imagined yourself feeling the sun in your face, having your first cup of mead or watching a parade.

Then you imagined yourself tripping and falling into the sea. You didn't know how to swim. No one saw the need to teach you such a thing. You imagined yourself at the parade, getting robbed. You imagined a man, trying to hurt you. What if people out there, what if Daemon, were truly as wretched as your father said they were?

Your face must have shown your distress because Daemon, impatient, shouted something more.

“I won't hurt you.” The Prince raised his hands in surrender. “I will not tell you I am a good man, but I will take you to Dragonstone.”

His honesty was what sealed the deal. You threw your hair down, grabbed one of your warmest cloaks, and shouted for him to loop your hair around a branch and not let go.

Daemon obeyed. You jumped, and as your feet hit the floor, you wished to be able to say you didn't look back. But you did. And as you saw the silhouette of your tower getting smaller and smaller in the distance, you couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness deep in your chest.

Noticing how quiet you have gotten, Daemon adjusts your cloak and gives you a grin.

“Do you want to ride Caraxes?” He asks. You match his grin, sadness nearly forgotten. There is a whole world out here, begging to be explored. You can be sad later when the adventure ends.

Caraxes is the most bewitching creature you have ever seen. He is red and serpentine, looking so much like the drawings of dragons you used to do as a child. You nearly scream in excitement.

Daemon whispers to him to stay calm, but Caraxes seems to sense your happiness, for he keeps trying to correspond your loving pets.

“Oh, by the Seven Hells.” The Prince pushes you towards the saddle. “If neither of you stop the tail wagging, we are going to get caught.”

“And we don't want that.” You agree, kissing Caraxes' scales one last time.

Caraxes gives another excited, full-body wag. He seems to be preening under the attention. Daemon must not praise him very much, which is a shame.

“You are such a good boy. So pretty, too.”

Caraxes preens even more. It makes his body shake, tail hitting against the floor in an ominous beat. Daemon groans.

“Enough, enough.” The Prince grabs you by the waist and gets you up in the saddle. You shriek in laughter. Caraxes appears to be happy about it, too, since he starts spreading his wings. “We are going to get caught.”

Daemon jumps into the saddle, hugging you tightly to him. You squirm, unused to the closeness of another human being. When your father and Rhaenyra touch you, it's never like this.

Daemon feels overwhelming, in the best kind of way. His chest is firm, and his smell surrounds you. His arms around your waist hold you tight, but remain loose enough to not hurt you. Your hips fit snugly against his, and make something you can't yet name stir in your lower belly.

It's different. It's strange. You want it to stop. Why do you feel so nervous, as if Caraxes was suddenly dropping down and not barely getting ready to fly?

“Soves, Caraxes.” Daemon orders, careful not to scream in your ear. “Are you alright, little Princess?”

You cease your squirming, hoping that he doesn't notice whatever is different with you.

“Why wouldn't I be?”

“You keep squirming as if there were ants inside your bodice. Are you uncomfortable?” The Prince snickers by your ear, pressing a soft kiss right by the top of it. What happens next is impossible to hide. Your body gives a shiver, all of your hairs standing up. The sensation is as confusing as it is pleasant.

“My stomach feels funny.” You complain, knowing that it isn't exactly that, but close enough that he probably won't question it.

“Funny how?” Daemon kisses behind your ear. You make a hurt, confused noise. You have been kissed before, but never there. In your experience, kisses are not this devastating.

“Funny.” You refuse to elaborate because while naive, you are not dumb. This must be precisely why your father wanted you away from men. If they were able to inflict so much pleasure, it was no wonder why maidens let them do whatever they wanted to them.

“Does it hurt, little Princess?” One of his palms goes to your lower stomach, pressing slightly. “Here?”

You squirm. So he definitely knows.

“Yes.”

“Hurts? Or…?” Daemon's hand goes dangerously low, nearly pressing between the parting of your legs. You squirm more. He brushes something that makes you jolt, delighted.

“We shouldn't.” You answer. It would be much more convincing if you were not relaxing into him. He laughs right in your ear, but retracts his hand.

Even with his hands away from your most sensitive areas, you still feel worked up. Your bodice is too rough against your skin, the way Caraxes moves under both of you makes the area between your legs tingle.

You keep your eyes firmly on the sky in front of you. As it starts to change into pinks and yellows, the feeling ebbs and starts to fade. You feel sleepy, so you recline more against Daemon. A tiny yawn escapes you.

“Tired?” Daemon brushes your hair back, much more tenderly than your father would. With your father, the touch is always harsher, more possessive. As if he is always grasping to the last threads of Aemma he can hold. With Daemon, it feels like he is actually touching you.

You hum, soft and sweet.

“Sleep, little one.” He kisses your cheek. “I'll wake you up when we get there.”

The next time you wake up, it is in an unknown bedroom. At first, you panic. The canopy over the bed looks too similar to the one in your tower, and you wonder if perhaps you dreamed it all. Daemon, Caraxes, the flight, your feelings. Then, you get even more scared because the more you look, the more you realize this is not your room.

You get out of bed. You are still dressed in the same dress you were wearing earlier, but your shoes are gone. The door is closed. Fear grips at you. What if Daemon has sold you to someone evil and rotten, as your father says people outside the Red Keep are? What if he is the evil man?

You rush to the door. It opens easily. There is a hallway that looks much like the ones in the Red Keep, but there is no one there. You scream in fear.

Another of the doors opens in the hallway. Daemon, in a sleeping shirt and breeches, runs out.

“Princess!” He hurries to your side. You are crying, you realize, as he wipes away some of your tears. “What is it?”

“I woke up alone, and I didn't recognize…” You sob, softly.

“Oh, little girl.” Daemon scoops you in his arms. “I should have thought of that. I am so sorry.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, and you look at him, eyes swollen from your crying.

The world had impressed you during the day, but now that the night had fallen, and you found yourself in an unknown castle, you were afraid. What if there were monsters lurking in the hallways? Or if you needed something? What if someone hurt you?

“I do not want to go back there. I am scared.” You rubbed your eyes. Your hands dug into his arm, not wanting to let go of him.

“Do you wish me to keep you company while you fall back asleep?” Daemon asked, gently smoothing your hair down. You must look a mess, and would find it embarrassing were it not for the fact that being alone in such a big place terrifies you. At this point, you would do anything to keep him here.

“Please.” No more words are needed. Daemon doesn't want you to beg, nor does he want anything in exchange. It's comforting.

One of his hands goes to your shoulder blades, leading you back to the room. Daemon tucks you in and sits by your side.

“I'll stay until you fall asleep.” He says, smoothing down your frown with the gentlest touch. Daemon starts to hum in High Valyrian, softly. You know the melody. It's about flames and burning together. Almost against your will, your eyelids start to drop.

“Don't… Don't want you to go.” Your body feels so heavy, as if sinking into the mattress. With great effort, you manage to curl your fingers around one of his.

“Oh, Princess.” He says, interlacing your hands.

“Stay.” You order.

Daemon lets go of your hand, and you whine, awake instantly. You go to sit up, but he shushes you.

“Shh. I am just… Let me.” He slides under the covers, behind you. You close your eyes, trying to relax against him. It's no hardship at all. Now that the candles have been blown, the light is low and Daemon feels so warm against you.

He starts to trace your features. Finger meets brow, temple, cheek. Thumb brushes nose, then lips. Idly, so very idly, his voice mutters near your ear.

“How many mouths has yours kissed?”

The question startles you. You suppose there is no harm in telling him, yet there is a tinge of embarrassment over it, too. It has finally dawned on you what this new, uncomfortable, thrilling feeling is. Desire. You lust after Daemon.

“I have…” You answer, softly. You do not dare speak it out loud. Not when you rather know exactly how far the two of you are. “How about you?”

“I have lost count. Twenty, perhaps more so.” Daemon says it so casually, as if it did not matter at all. But to you, it does. What are you, compared to this man? How could you want him in such a manner, having so little to offer?

“What makes it special, then?” There has to be a reason for him to bother with kissing all these people. Perhaps, to him, all kisses feel as devastating as his does to you.

“The person, I would gather.” The Prince answers, softly rubbing your back as one would do to help a child fall asleep. You frown. It does make sense. You know what love is, after all. Being in love with someone, or at least desiring them, must make it special.

You would like to kiss him, you think. Daemon is handsome, and his touch does not feel as damning as other's do. He has already provided you with pleasure, even if unknowingly.

You make a wish, then. For your first kiss to be special, with someone you like and that knows what they are doing. If not Daemon, at least someone like that.

“Was your first special?” You ask, curious.

“No. She was terrible. Sharp teeth and all.” Daemon moves your hair aside, exposing your neck. You barely get any warning before he is taking a bite out of your nape. For a playful gesture, it's oddly painful. Your body tenses, and you try to fight it, but Daemon's hands are like a vice around your waist. “Like this.”

With no other choice, you ride it out. Pain is nearly unfamiliar to you, beyond small cuts or painful cycles. It's scorching red and hot, making you break into a sweat. Daemon forces you to take, and take, gently holding your hands in his. It's only after that you go limp under him, twitching slightly, that he lets up.

The aftermath of pain is sweet, you learn. Daemon kisses around the painful bite and blows a raspberry behind your ear. Now that he has let go of your nape, you find out that the pain was not so bad. You are not even bleeding.

“You are such a good girl.” Daemon praises. “So strong. I'm so proud of you.”

You preen as if you were Caraxes, delighted to make him feel proud of you. Daemon smiles against your temple, as if amused by you, and presses a little kiss there. It’s so tender, and so loving, a sharp contrast to his earlier behavior. It makes you feel as if you were once again on dragonback.

“Could you kiss me?” The words escape out of your mouth, without any real thinking. You know they are the wrong thing to say as soon as they leave your mouth.

Daemon pulls away from you. A hurt, confused noise leaves your throat, hands desperately searching back for his warmth.

“Oh, little Princess.” Daemon mutters, tone full of regrets. “I should not.”

“Why not?” You complain. You are not used to being denied so. The only times others do not bend to your will, you get what you want by your own means. Case in point, leaving your tower. Your father had said no, so you had ensured it happened by other means.

“I have done…. What I have done to you, why I took you…” Suddenly, it is as if an icy hand has taken hold of your throat and started to suffocate you. Betrayal settles over your features, overpowering it all.

“You are only doing this to piss off my father.” You say, shocked. Daemon raises his hands, trying to interrupt you, but you halt him with an imperious wave. “You had no intention of taking me to the dragons. You sought to ruin my reputation, as you did Rhaenyra's.”

“No, Princess, no.” Daemon shakes his head. You get up from the bed, angered. He does not try to stop you. “I swear I didn't mean for anything untoward to happen.”

“I bet you said that back then, too.” You retort. You have half a mind to do something crazy. To grab the fire poker and smash his head with it, to set the whole place on fire. You want to make him hurt.

“I… I did mean to anger your father.” Daemon admits, still trying to placate you. It only makes you wish to scream and scream and never stop. “But I do think it is a shame not to let you even try. Dragons are your birthright. Denying you is unnatural.”

You glare at him. You are unconvinced of the truthfulness of his words. Your father was right. You were unprepared for the world, and it couldn't show more. Daemon has tricked you as easily as if he were taking candy from a babe.

“I'll take you there regardless. I promised to.” His eyes are pleading, but you do not wish to hear him, or see him any longer. Instead, you sit in front of the vanity and look at yourself.

The long, silver hair. The scared eyes. The night, the first you have of freedom, is spent utterly cold and miserable. You stare at yourself and stare at yourself until you think you are going mad.

Daemon does not say a word. He doesn't leave the room, either. Perhaps he falls asleep at some point, perhaps he does not.

You look at your reflection again. You look at your hair. Silver, like his. The lovely color Daemon loves so much. Long, and braided back, flaunting your maidenhood and youth. Forever your father's little girl, never allowed to grow, to love, to lust.

A braid that long won't allow you to claim a dragon. You are more likely to set yourself on fire or trip on it. It's that thought that gives you the determination needed to do what needs to be done.

In the first drawer of the vanity there are a few miscellaneous ribbons. There is also a pair of scissors. You grab it, and grab your braid. You chop it off. As it falls from your shoulder, you feel a weight lift off from you. No longer your nape is heavy with the weight of all these expectations laying on you.

There is a woman staring at you, from the mirror. She looks like she is getting ready for war, eyes alight with determination. You stare at the contours of her face, mesmerized by what you see. All traces of Aemmas's ghost are gone from your reflection. You look more like yourself than you have ever done.

Daemon is up at sunrise. He may have been watching you chop all your hair off and expose the lovely bite mark that now mars the skin of your nape. He may have been sleeping. Whatever it is, he doesn't say a word about your change of appearance, choosing instead to dress in silence.

“Off we go.” He says, briskly, leading you out of the castle. Daemon points to a hill in the distance. “But after that, you are on your own.”

You are suddenly filled with doubt, the determination you had felt when looking in the mirror dissipating under the morning light. Your stomach clenches. Your legs are sore, unused to the exercise of riding. The bite on your neck burns.

"I do not feel ready to claim a dragon.” You say to him, as you get closer and closer to the hill. You feel like a fool. What if your father is right? What if you end this escapade with nothing to show but a ruined reputation?

“You are.” Daemon answers, barely paying attention. It makes you angry beyond belief. To make your mood known, you stomp over a few leaves, grinding them to dust under your heel. Ugh. Why were you looking to him for reassurance in the first place? It was not like Daemon wanted to help you. He just wanted to make himself feel less guilty over trying to cause a scandal and kill your father from the fright.

“I am not.” It’s almost as if you can hear the voice of your father in your head, telling you exactly why no dragon would bond with you. You are a fool, you are a little girl, you…

“You are a Targaryen.” Daemon interrupts your trail of thought with a squeeze to your nape. Right over the bite. It makes your knees nearly buckle. “You were born ready.”

“But what if it isn't enough? What if they see me, and don't want me? I am not brave, like Rhaenyra, or cunning like you or learned like my father. ”

“They will.” Daemon says. “Because you are strong here.” He taps your sternum. “And your father is a fool for not seeing it.”

You look at him. Past the guilt, past the acting up to get your father's attention. His eyes are nervous, but they hold the same steely determination yours had earlier. Daemon believes in you, you realize. You look up at the hill and think to yourself, it is time to see if you can claim a second dragon.

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idontevenknowhowtolife · 1 year

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So fics about Rhaenyra being a good sister and going a little feral over how they have been mistreated have become my new obsession so here they are.

W.T.F - Gwayne Hightower becomes aware of the whole “Rhaenyra is going to kill us” thing and goes to her and is like “thats fucked up could you not” while shes just like “what”. Consequences (assumably) ensue.

Riding Another Man's Dragon by @raybyanothername - Jace and Aegon centered but also has a couple of scenes between Rhaenyra and her siblings as well as her yelling at her dad bc hes a shit parent. Also theres a lot of dragon scenes which automatically makes any fic a thousand times better. Overall just a really good fic and the author has some other really good ones.

why are you shaking (we are a dynasty) - Rhaenyra finds Aemond after his attempt at bonding with Dreamfyre and the realisation that he could have died without her ever really knowing him makes her determined to step up as a sister. (Theres a good scene of her just storming through the castle to find her siblings when she figures out what Otto Hightowers done). One of the most well written fics I’ve seen in the fandom.

The Dragons and Their Sun - Rhaenyra takes care of Aegon while hes sick and slowly starts adopting her siblings as well as a surprise family member. It also involves a lot of Rhaenys and Corlys looking at kids and going “mine”.

Waiting on a Miracle - Rhaenyra just up and takes her siblings, kids and Daemons kids (along with Daemon) after Laenas funeral but before Aemond claiming Vhagar. This has some really good Aegon and Rhaenyra and Helaena and Rhaenyra. (+ Bonus Daemon and Aemond). Its following a kinda Bridgerton style format.

her brown-eyed boys - Rhaenyra shocks Viserys into growing some balls and betroths Jace and Helaena. Theres a lot of her bonding with Aemond and Helaena as well as a scene of her going off at Otto in defense of Aegon. Its an amazing fic and also does some really insightful deep dives into the thoughts and actions of characters such as Alicent, Otto, Viserys and Daemon. Rhaenyras the main POV.

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i-am-so-riddikulus · 2 years

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A Nightly Stroll

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader

Summary: pure smut, reader has had a low key thing for Daemon for years, now he feels the same way

A/N: I have been on hiatus for a while, and now that I am in college, I felt that I finally had time for writing. I dearly missed it, but with many familial issues and mental health, it was best not to for a while. I hope to still write well for you all :) also this is my first smut so im sorry if it sucks (still obsessed with episode 4’s scene)

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: smut, non-con, vaginal, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), age-gap, breeding kink, fem reader, im sorry if i missed anything else

“My Lady?”

“Are you okay?”

Their words felt worlds away once you heard your sister would be marrying the King, your best friend's father. Not only did she help you every step of the way through your mother’s death, but she helped when Rhaenyra’s passed as well. She was some sort of a rock for the both of you and now she’s gone with your father, now she’s your Queen.

Feeling the frustration build up, you left the council meeting immediately, Rhaenyra not far behind you. There was no way that you were going to sit there and listen to people who don’t care try to explain why this would be good for the realm.

You sat in the Godswood, the grip on your book as you thought about the day you lost one of your best friends. There was nothing that could describe the loneliness that you had felt now, first Alicent Hightower, now the Queen, had married the king, and then your best friend left for a tour of men that wanted to marry her. You couldn’t be upset with Rhaenyra, she is the Princess after all, and the heir to the Iron Throne, much to Daemon’s dismay.

You had heard of his victories in the Stepstones, and you wondered if he was coming back to the capitol soon. Daemon had been someone that you had always observed in your time at the Red Keep. His chaotic nature was always one that was entertaining to watch, let alone the glances that he held towards you when no one else was looking.

It’s not like you had one-on-one time with the Prince, you had talked with him amongst many other people, but you couldn’t help but to wish that once, he would come up to you on his own. He never did, and once he was exiled, the court became a tedious task for you.

You were brought out of your thoughts once you heard the distant murmur of people talking excitedly, footsteps equally as exhilarated. Without thinking, you left your book to see what the commotion was about, not having heard the excitement of people in over two months. Your jaw dropped as you saw Rhaenyra walking through the hall, not taking anytime as you ran towards her. You collided roughly, Rhaenyra laughing as she embraced you as well, “Oh my Rhaenyra you have no idea how much I’ve missed you,” you whine to her as you hold each other.

“No Y/N, I don’t think you realize how much I’ve missed you,” she chuckles out.

You sit there for another moment before you pull away, “I thought your tour was much longer,” you say as you fix your hair and dress.

“You were right in your thoughts, I wasn’t even finished with half of my tour. I just couldn’t stand listening to men talk about how much they wanted my Valeryian blood for their future babes,” she sighed.

You laughed slightly, “Well I wouldn’t look at it that way, Princess. You are the future Queen, and the fact that you have a choice in the matter is something that a lot don’t have.”

She looks at you with a somber expression, “Well at least your father doesn’t want you to marry some man with a big castle to ensure his line doesn’t end.”

“No, he has no care for me anymore, not since he married my sister away to the King. It seems that he is no longer attentive to anything I do, he hasn’t even talked to me since Prince Aegon was born,” you barely whisper.

Rhaenyra grabbed your hands, “Y/N, you don’t deserve that, one day someone will give you the attention you deserve,” she smiled sweetly, starting to walk off, “though I fear it’s time to go into the court now, since Daemon is back. I know father won’t be too happy seeing me walk in.”

She looked at you once again before entering the throne room, half of the Kingsguard in front of her. You watched her enter the throne room, hoping the King would go easy on her. As soon as you saw her figure vanish, the words dawned on you. Daemon is back! No wonder everyone was hustling about, the exiled Prince was back. You wasted no time in accompanying everyone else into the throne room, eager to see the Prince you missed.

It was shockingly quiet as Daemon walked towards the King, as if the whole room were their breath. Daemon had on a crown, and to your own pleasure, his hair was cut. There was some conversation, he bowed to King Viserys, declared him his King, and handed him his crown. The King then put his hand on his brother’s shoulder, and when Daemon rested his forehead on his shoulder, you knew he had found some sort of peace within himself.

It seemed as if everyone had forgiven Daemon for everything he had done in the past, and the King seemed to be enjoying himself more than ever with his brother. You had been sitting alone on a bench watching the King, his brother, and his daughter speak, when your sister came next to you. As soon as you saw her, your smile faded. She had aided in your loneliness, claiming she had a husband and children to take care of so she could no longer spend time with you. You would never admit it to her, but her carelessness in you left a large wound. “Hello my dear sister,” she had said as she sat down.

“Hello my Queen, to what do I owe the pleasure?” you couldn’t help the sarcasm.

“Well, I just wanted to talk to my sister, I feel as though we’ve grown apart as of late,” she sighed. She feels as though you’ve grown apart? It’s all her doing.

“Well my Queen, it wouldn’t have been like this if you chose to care for your sister, maybe listen to the small things she wanted to say, with no one else around,” the anger evident in your tone.

“Y/N, I’m very sorry-”

“Does there seem to be an issue here?” Rhaenyra’s voice spoke.

“Not at all, Princess, I was just leaving,” and with that you left for an area that was empty in the corner.

You were mulling over the conversation you had with your sister, how could she think that you were at all to blame for your separation. Your father, who was one of the most powerful men in the Realm couldn’t even care for anything you did nor said because of her, and then she chooses to not speak with you or have contact. No. This was her doing, not yours.

The grapes you were eating felt amazing against your tongue, it had been a while since you had this simple fruit. Lost in the fruit, you hadn’t noticed Daemon behind you, “Excuse me my Lady, but I seemed to have seen some trouble with the Queen a moment ago?”

Almost choking on the grape you were eating, “Uh no not at all my Prince, why would you say that?”

“Hm, it seemed to me like you were very uncomfortable, and my dear niece had to break up whatever was going on. I promise I was not the only one that saw.” His head was now cocked to the side, a small smirk playing on his lips.

He had never shown any interest in you besides the occasional look, or conversation that you were dragged in by Rhaenyra, so why speak now? “You seem to have grown a lot since we last met, Lady Hightower.” he spoke.

Your cheeks flushed, “You as well my Prince, it seems that time can do a lot to oneself.”

“Yes I would say so,” he chuckled slightly, “I’m surprised your father has not married you off yet, you are a woman now, he must have to fight through suitors.”

You look down at your feet, feeling yourself pick at your cuticles, something your father tried to get you to stop doing for years, “Well, now that his daughter is married to the King, he needs no purpose for me. He’s as high as he can go in his position. I’m the youngest, and I’m not suitable for a family, or so he tells me.”

You hear Daemon tsk, and his hand cups your lower face, “No my dear, I know you would look astounding carrying a child, having your womb full.” he whispers the last bit, feeling his breath on your face.

Your eyes can’t help but to flutter shut, your heartrate picking up, your breathing quickening. Nothing had made you feel this way, and you even forgot you were in the middle of a courtyard. But just as quickly as the interaction happened, he pulled his hands away, “I will see you tonight at supper, my Lady,” he was gone.

Your eyes quickly scanned the area, for fear that someone had seen you. But, like you were used to, no one had noticed a thing. Daemon had already peacefully put himself back into place with the King, Rhaenyra, and your sister, almost as if nothing had happened a second ago.

In fact, you would’ve thought nothing happened, that you had hallucinated it even, if it weren’t for the way Daemon had been looking at you for the whole of the evening. Normally dinners were very quiet, or if someone had spoken, the conversation never would have included you. But tonight the table was very talkative with Rhaenyra and Daemon being back, so many questions, so many answers, and even more glares from Viserys to Rhaenyra.

When Daemon had been asked many questions about the war, he somehow always managed to ask you something and include you in the conversation, seemingly interested in what little you did around King’s Landing while he was gone. No matter the boringness of your answer, he always seemed delighted to listen, his intent and strong on your form.

Dinner ended more expeditiously than you hoped for, and before you knew it, it was time to head to your chambers. Yet, the room felt… off. Your books were where you left them, bed made, candles lit, what could possibly be the issue? Your intuition proved to be right once you saw a small roll of parchment. The parchment read, “Dear Lady Y/N, I would love if you were to accompany me tonight on a nightly stroll, perhaps we could even see some night life with the common people, please meet by the gates if you would like to join.”

Although the name wasn’t signed, you had a clear idea on who would’ve sent that letter. It took no more than a few minutes to turn from your nightgown to your inconspicuous clothing to meet whoever wrote the letter. Not being important enough to have someone guard your doors, it was an easy slip out. Something that had not been easy was breathing once you realized your assumption was wrong. For some wild reason, you had thought that Rhaenyra wanted to go sneak out with you, but in reality it was Daemon. Your head felt dizzy, heartbeat racing once you realized the Prince wanted to spend the time with you.

His clothing was simple, a hood with some common clothing to hide his Targaryen signature hair. His smile was something else, and you would have sworn he saw a throne instead of you. Approaching him you bowed, “My Prince,”

He hurriedly made you upright, “Sh, Y/N, you do not need to call me prince anymore, just call me Daemon.”

“Ah yes of course… Daemon.” you said.

His hand grabbed yours as he pulled you towards the city. This was unlike anything you had ever seen before. You had been through the city multiple times, but never at night. The people were all having fun, singing, laughing, eating, and drinking. It felt nice to be outside of the walls, outside of the rules, just here to do anything you want.

Daemon first took you to a tavern in the city. The music was loud, but the men carrying the jugs of ale were louder. He wasted no time in buying you both some ale, even though you insisted on some wine instead. “You have been shielded from the life of many with the Red Keep’s wine, it’s time you now taste what a real drink tastes like,” he slid over your ale, encouraging you to take a sip.

After a brief contemplation, you brought the drink up to your lips, the bitterness immediately causing your face to turn. Daemon laughed at your expression, chugging his own down as if it were nothing. The burn it left on your throat actually felt quite nice after many more sips.

You had felt the effects of the ale start to kick in, the liquid slightly affecting your judgment. Daemon just sitting there had made you blush, your whole being just feeling on fire under his gaze. His hand reached out to yours to take it once again, wanting to take you somewhere else. The alcohol in your system was making you feel like you were on top of the world, and there was not a care in the entire Realm that would change that right now.

Down the alley, you noticed there were less and less people. But the distant sounds were an indication to where you may have been headed. Daemon’s hood came off once you entered the building, his hands taking your hat off as well. Confusion ran through you as to why he chose now to remove your disguises. The people around you were all in pleasure. Seemingly, they were their true selves, finding their own true pleasure. You knew now where you were.

Daemon stopped leading you after you had stepped into a more private room, the only thing that was shielded from you were the bodies of everyone else, but their moans stayed. You could feel Daemon behind you, his body warmth palpable. Your heart rate quickened, breathing becoming shallow, the true weight of where you were setting in. “You see Y/N, marriage is a duty, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be fun,” his breath fanning over your ear, “In many marriages, marriage is one thing, and your own pleasure is another. I’m here to offer you a marriage that is not separated from pleasure, one that is full of only indulgence.”

Your lungs felt shallow as you took in his words, now feeling his entire front along your back. How could you say no in this condition? His hand brushed your shoulder, your hand in turn cupping it. “I’d be honored to accept your offer,” you turned to face him, “my Prince.”

His jaw clenched slightly before his hands reached to grab your face, pulling you in for a kiss. It was fervent, almost as if he’d been waiting years to kiss you. Your arms reached up, one on his chest, the other on the back of his neck. You could taste the ale on his lips, the taste assisting in your enjoyment. His mouth switched to your neck, pushing your back against the wall. The cold wall felt strangely thrilling on your back, coaxing a slight moan from you. You could feel the smirk on your neck.

He pulled away, looking at you once more before kissing you again. His hands traveled to your pants, pulling them down swiftly, next was your shirt. Turning your front against the wall once again, you moaned as his hands cupped your breasts, massaging them as he kissed up your neck. His hand traveled down your stomach, stopping to rub small circles on your clit, “Tonight I’m going to make you a real woman.”

Feeling his bulge on your ass, you rocked your hips into his, causing a small hiss from him, “well, well, someone is needy,” he ran his fingers along your slit, “looks like you’re all ready for me anyway.”

Turning you around once again, he pulled his own pants down, then continuing to grab your legs around his waist, rubbing the tip along your folds. Letting out a small moan, your head leaned back, eyes fluttering shut as you felt him nudge against your clit. He slipped in, inch by inch, careful to not hurt you your first time. His head laid against your forehead while he let you adjust.

You tried hard to not focus on the pain, so instead you pulled his face in for a kiss. This one was gentle as he slowly started to move his hips. With each thrust, you could feel the pain ebb away, and soon it turned into pleasure unlike anything you had felt before. His hand grabbed yours, intertwining your fingers, while the other sat on your hip. With one thrust he hit a particular spot, causing you to release a deep moan. This caused him to increase his pace, his other hand joining your hips. The increase in speed felt amazing, “oh yes, Daemon, please,” you moaned out and with each thrust, his abdomen rubbed against your clit deliciously.

You could feel the coil in your stomach start to tighten, every little touch on your body adding to the sensation. The sound of skin slapping was so erotic, and the stench of sex filled the room. “Gods Y/N, you feel so good wrapped around me, letting me fuck you in this pleasure house,” he released a slight moan, “taking my cock so well.”

His words of praise sent you over the edge. Letting out a satisfied moan, your walls fluttered around his cock. His pace became quicker, seeking his own release. You let out a small whine at the overstimulation, causing him to grab your neck, his mouth coming to your ear, “I’m going to fill you up so well, and your cunt is going to take it,” his had moved to your clit, rubbing circles, “tell me you want my cum.”

Your eyes rolled back from the pleasure, a second orgasm building quickly, “please fill me with your seed Daemon, fill me until I’m dripping, until I’m stuffed!” And on your final word, you came together, him letting out a guttural moan as his head laid in your neck, feeling each spurt hot cum fill you up.

It took him a moment before he pulled out, still out of breath. You felt so empty without him being inside you, feeling his seed drip out of you. Your legs almost gave out as they hit the floor, but Daemon caught you before they could.

He chuckled at the sight of you all fucked out by him. “You know, I went very easy on you. Our wedding night will be much different than this.”

Still moderately feeling the high of your orgasm, “Yes well I hope there will be a bed,” you said, laughing slightly.

He kissed your forehead, looking at you smiling, “Yes my darling, there will be a bed.”

#daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x reader #rhaenyra targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd fanfic #matt smith #hotd smut #daemon targaryen x reader smut #daemon x reader smut #daemon smut #daemon fanfic

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starogeorgina · 6 months

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𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐲

Paring: Aegon II Targaryen x Targaryen OC

Warnings: None

Chapter: 1.01

“Rhaenyra!” You continue to rapidly bang your fist against the door leading into your elder sister's bedroom. "Rhaenyra, open this door right now!”

You hated her.

“You’re a fucking coward to hide from me!” You didn’t care that your language was unfit for a young lady, a princess; Rhaenyra had cut you deeply, and you wanted to make sure she knew it. “Unlock this door at once!”

You hated her.

“I would have never done this to you,” you sob. “I loved you, Rhaenyra, my big sister. We’re supposed to look out for each other, not... I would never do this. Not to you, never.”

You only stop banging on the door when your fist is pulled back by Ser Criston. “You need to stop before you hurt yourself, princess.”

You knew he was right, but it didn’t stop the anger that was radiating through you. Not only has Rhaenyra humiliated you by sleeping with your husband, she has also given birth to his sons. Three of them. Something you were never even given the chance to do. Your brain comes to a heartbreaking realization, one that makes you want to scream as soon as you think about it. Rhaenyra doesn’t care about you and never did. You feel your knees start to weaken, and your stomach drops. The knight whispers, “I know you’re hurting, princess, but they aren’t worthy of your tears.”

You take a deep breath and wipe your fallen tears away, knowing that he was right. “Thank you, Ser Criston.”

“The queen heard about what happened and would like for you to join her in her quarters. She wishes to offer you her comfort.”

You blink away the tears, your vision becoming more clear, and when it does, you see your husband standing down at the opposite end of the hallway. No doubt he was coming to see her. He was staring at you, looking worried. You feel your heart harden, not wanting to give him or her the satisfaction of seeing you hurt. You push back the sob, desperately wanting to escape your throat. “Ser Criston, do you mind escorting me to the queen's chambers?”

“Of course, princess.”

—

“How could she betray me in such a way?”

Alicent wraps her around your shoulder; she seems genuinely concerned about you. You had managed to maintain a smidgen of your dignity by holding your head high as you walked through the castle, ignoring all the side-eye glances and whispers going on around you. One of Alicent’s ladies-in-waiting brings in a tray of tea that’s supposed to help calm nerves.

“Prin-”

“Ivory,” you correct with a weak smile.

Lord Strong nods, “Ivory, I am ashamed to admit that rumors of my brother's betrayal had reached me long ago, but I assumed there was no truth to it. It wasn’t until I learned about the incident in the training yard this morning that I came to realize it was true.”

You had spent the last year defending Rhaenyra and Harwin, insisting that Jacaerys and Lucerys weren’t fathered by your husband before you were married. Because of your age, you had yet to lay with Harwin, and you thought if he was going to stray, it would be in the streets of silk, not with your own flesh and blood.

“She swore to me in our mothers names that they were Ser Lenors true-born sons. How could I have been so foolish?”

“You aren’t foolish, my sweet.” Alicent picks up a cup of tea and hands it to you, giving you a sympathetic look as she notices your hands trembling. “You have been deceived, and I can only imagine what Viserys will have to say when he finds out.”

You shake your head. It was widely known that Rhaenyra was your father's favorite, and learning what she was really like could be the thing that breaks him. “My love for my father is the only thing keeping me quiet. He is sick; finding out the truth about what Rhaenyra has done might be the thing that kills him, and we do not want him to suffer. If I’m being honest, I don’t know what to do.”

“I find that praying helps me find clarity and reassurance. I pray to the mother nightly; you can join me if you wish.”

“Perhaps I should pray to the warrior as well as the mother.” You chuckle lightly. “I could really use the gods' strength and courage."

—

After visiting the sept the night previously, the queen had arranged for you to stay in a separate bedchamber for the night since your quarter was beside Rhaenyra’s.

In the morning, Ser Criston escorted you back to your quarters; with him by your side, nobody dared approach you. The knight made pleasant small talk and even managed to make you laugh. When you reach your quarters, you thank him before walking into your bedchamber. You sit down at your vanity and begin to unbraid your hair, only stopping when you hear the door opening.

“Flora?” You call out, hoping to see your lady in waiting, who has become a close friend over the years. “Flora, is that you?”

When you turn around, you’re stunned to see Rhaenyra and Harwin. At first, you were afraid that the sight of them would upset you, but now, as you sit in front of them, all you feel is anger.

You say nothing; you turn your back on them and shift your attention to taking the remainder of your braids out. You push down the lump forming in your throat when Rhaenyra kneels down beside you with tears in her eyes. You pretend she isn’t even there and get up to go pick a dress to wear once you are bathed.

“Ivory! Ivory, please,” Rhaenyra begs. “It happened before you were betrothed! I never wanted you to find out like this. Sister, please! Just let me explain!”

You had fully intended to continue giving her the cold shoulder, but hearing the word sister caused you to snap. You can’t believe she had the nerve to call you that. You spin around fast, and your expression pulls into one of anger and hurt as you snap, “Don’t call me that again.”

Rhaenyra steps back as if you’d struck her.

Harwin says, “I am sincerely sorry for betraying your trust.”

You scoff, annoyed that he seems upset when it’s you that should be hurt by his dishonorable actions. “Until such a time that I am of age to perform my duty as princess and your wife, I don’t think we need to speak again.”

“Ivory…”

“You may leave, Ser Harwin.”

When the knight leaves, you turn to face your sister, whose eyes were bloodshot from crying, which angers you further. “Since the day Jace was born, I have loved him; the same is true of Luke. You’ve watched me play with them and sing to them. I’ve basically grown up with them, and not once did you ever think to tell me they were fathered by Harwin.”

“I tried to spare you the pain of knowing the truth.”

You can’t help the laugh that slips past your lips. “You must really hate me.”

She squeezes her eyes shut as more tears roll down her cheeks. “I love you.”

“No, you don’t. I’ve always looked up to you; I wanted to be just like you. My perfect big sister.” You shake your head, backing away from her slightly when she reaches for you. “Do not touch me.”

"When my father told me about his plans for you and Harwin to wed, I tried to stop the betrothal; I really did.”

“I believe you,” you say, wiping away more fallen tears. You hardly knew Harwin; he would occasionally accompany you on walks around the garden, and nothing more than a kiss on the back of the hand was shared between you, but he was still your husband. “Both Jacaerys and Lucerys were born before the betrothal; I would have easily looked past that and done everything I could to help protect them. But Joffrey, he’s only a few days old. Even after I married Harwin, you continued to have an affair with him.”

You see guilt pass over her features before she drops her gaze to the floor and says, “I’m sorry.”

“I still love my nephews; that will never change, but I can’t be around them right now. Not after knowing what I know, it will just be a constant reminder."

“Of my betrayal.” Rhaenyra takes a deep breath; red patches have appeared across her neck and chest. “I hope one day you can forgive me.”

When Rhaenyra leaves the room, you throw yourself onto your bed, pull your pillow to your face, and sob into it. This was too much pressure for a girl of one and five to bear.

When someone knocks at your door, you groan a little, assuming Harwin or Rhaenyra had come back. “Go away,” you mumble into your pillow. You lift your head to tell them to go away, but change your mind when you see who it is “Aegon, what are you doing here?”

He avoids looking you in the eye and shrugs. “My mother said you were upset.”

“So you came to check on me?”

You weren’t much older than Aegon; before you had even celebrated your first name day, your father had remarried, and Queen Alicent was pregnant. You were surprised to see Aegon, considering he didn’t spend much time with any of your siblings.

He rolls his eyes and says, “No.”

“Oh, then what are you doing here?”

“Wanted to know if you’d like to go dragon riding together.”

You smile and say, “Sure, that sounds like fun.”

Aegon on Sunfyre and you on Ghost were exactly what you needed to take your mind off everything else that was going on.

#house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen x female reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen x you #aegon ii targaryen fanfiction #Aegon II Targaryen/you #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfic #aegon targaryen fanfic #aegon targaryen x you #aegon ii fic #ghosts in the sky #aegon ii targaryen x oc #Aegon II Targaryen/oc #Aegon II Targaryen x fem oc #aegon ii x oc #aegon targaryen x oc #Aegon Targaryen x fem oc

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nothingbutsweetwords · 4 days

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ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ꜱᴏɴ, ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ!ɴɪᴇᴄᴇ

"ʏᴏᴜ'ᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ꜱᴛʀᴇꜱꜱᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ʟᴀᴛᴇʟʏ, ʏᴇᴀʜ, ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏᴏ..."

Word count: 3,800.

Fandom: House of the Dragon.

Pairing: Aemond x Reader!Velaryon!Niece.

MEETING - 1. Her.

Her legs, without any command and with an unstoppable determination, set off through the labyrinthine corridors of the red keep towards her mother's chambers long before the phrase fully reached her ears, the one she had so longed for: "The baby has been born, my princess."

Her family was her most loved treasure and when her mother announced the big news, time seemed to slow down. She couldn't wait to have that baby in her arms and cherish every second the gods, those she fervently prayed to, would allow her to spend with him.

Every night, in silent prayers, she repeated to any who would listen: "Please, let him be born healthy. Please, take care of my mother."

Rhaenyra painfully held in her heart the memory of her mother Aemma's early departure from the world. She wanted to shield her little ones from all fear and anguish, so she didn't dwell on details about that traumatic episode, one that, despite the years, remained as a deep and open wound. Unfortunately, she couldn't stop the whispers, those that seeped into her daughter's ears, creating such intense fear that she barely had room to breathe during those long nine months.

She felt a smile so wide it would ache her cheeks later and feet that weren't fast enough. Upon reaching the large wooden door, she took a few seconds to take a deep breath, calm her racing nerves, and finally push it open with determination.

Her entrance went unnoticed, as all eyes in the room were on the small human being now peacefully resting in her father's arms.

Except hers, no, those were on the woman sitting on the couch. Her forehead was beaded with sweat, her hair tousled and a tired expression adorned her face; yet never, in her short years on this earth, had she seen her so beautiful.

"Mother" she murmured almost voicelessly, taking her hands in hers and seeking her gaze. She felt her eyes sting, tears threatening to spill, and a lump forming in her throat. She wanted to speak again, but her voice got lost along the way. Fortunately, it wasn't necessary; Rhaenyra knew her as well as herself and could read her like an open book.

"My love, please, have no fear, we are okay" with those simple words, her lungs filled with air, swelling her chest. She let out a sigh, laden with relief, laden with love. She could only nod in response.

"Sister, look!" Jacaerys exclaimed, drawing her attention. He lifted the lid of the large steel chest, releasing steam and revealing a dragon egg.

"We choose an egg for the baby" Lucerys added.

"That looks like the perfect one, brothers" she said with a smile, though a bittersweet taste filled her mouth. Unlike her brothers, her own egg had never hatched, a disappointment she carried permanently with her, though she tried not to show it in these moments of happiness.

"I let Luke choose" he said, she messed up the younger one's hair and planted a kiss on his head.

"Thank you, Jace."

"Not every day an egg leaves the dragonpit, my princess, I thought it best to escort the lads" intervened Harwin Strong, adorned in his imposing armor and golden cloak. It didn't surprise her seeing him there; in fact, despite having a different last name, she considered him part of her family.

He was her protector, who always escorted her to her room, pampered her with luxurious books, and listened attentively to every word she said. She had more memories of him than of her own father, but she didn't complain; she knew he was a busy man. Harwin had tried to teach her the art of the sword, insisting on the importance of knowing how to defend herself, but she always found herself more interested in books. Besides, she had the feeling that he would never neglect watching her back.

"Laenor and I thank you, Commander" she heard her mother say.

"Father, may I see it?" she asked. Laenor knelt down, allowing the three of them to meet the new member of the family. It only took one look for him to completely captivate her. She mentally swore that nothing would ever harm him as long as she breathed. "What a fine knight you are going to make, eh?"

"Another boy, I heard" Harwin cleared his throat. "Might I?" he asked, seeking her mother's approval. She thought she saw a glimpse of the same relief that filled her eyes.

"Ser Harwin wishes to be introduced to Joffrey" she said, smiling. Upon hearing that name, her lips formed another smile. Of course, she would have been equally happy if it were a girl, but she was glad to still be the only one. It had its advantages.

"Of course" Laenor agreed. Rising, he gently placed Joffrey in Harwin's arms.

"Joffrey, is it?" her father nodded in agreement to the question.

"Mother, please may I hold Joffrey?" she asked excitedly, reaching out her arms towards him. A futile attempt, of course, the man in front of her easily doubled her height.

"No, mother, let me go first! I'm the strongest, I won't let him fall!" her twin brother vociferated.

"I won't let him fall either!" she countered.

Her younger brother joined in the pleas, arguing that he had the right because he was the youngest. Soon, the words melded into an indistinguishable uproar, as all three clamored in unison.

"No, no, no" her father hastened as Harwin turned his back to them, trying to prevent the disturbances from reaching the ears of the newborn.

"I think you left your septa waiting, my little lady, and back to the dragon pit for you two, before they send out a search party" he ushered the three younger ones out of the room, and gently pushed their shoulders, guiding them down the hallway. First, towards the room she had left only minutes ago, where her septa awaited along with Helaena, her mother's younger sister.

Her father left her at the door, and the expression on her face, the one she believed she was successfully hiding, betrayed her. Laenor crouched down to her height, gently taking her cheeks in his hands, making her look at him.

"You know, Leana had an egg that didn't hatch... and she didn't ride a dragon until she was five and ten. Now she rides Vhagar," he tried to cheer her up, "your time will come, dear daughter, I promise."

She was filled with hope at her father's promises. He always had the right words. She thanked the man she loved so much with a kiss on the cheek, and now with renewed energy, she entered the room.

Despite the repeated complaints from the septa, they remained on the floor; she leaned her back against the wall, while Helaena rested her head on her legs. She explored the pages of the book while playing with her hair, and when a passage caught her attention, she read it aloud to her aunt, who entertained herself by watching a long insect walk on her hands. They didn't share the same interests, not even could it be said that they understood each other, but they enjoyed each other's company and were grateful of having another princess of almost the same age as a confidante.

"This one has 60 rings and two pairs of legs on each. That's 240" remarked Helaena.

"Yes, you're right, I think... Did you know that Vhagar is 170 years old?" she responded, her eyes widening at the new information. "That's exceptional."

"The last ring doesn't have legs," Helaena pointed out, overlooking her niece, more interested in the insect "it has eyes, though I don't believe it can see."

She furrowed her brow. "Why is that so?"

"It's beyond our understanding."

She didn't know how much time they had spent in that position, but when she shifted her attention from the book due to noises approaching from the corridors, she noticed that the septa had already left and in her place was Alicent. The new companion was sitting a few meters away from them, holding a cup of tea and with her gaze lost in the window.

Suddenly, two king’s guards burst into the room, each holding one of Aemond's arms, alarming her.

"Your grace" they left without waiting for any response, closing the doors behind them.

"Aemond, what have you done?" Alicent approached him quickly, scrutinizing him, and exclaimed exasperatedly while gripping his shoulders firmly, "after how many times you’ve been warned, must I have you confined to your chambers?"

"They made me do it!" the young prince shouted in his defense.

"As if you needed encouragement. Your obsession with those beasts goes beyond understanding" she furrowed her brow again upon noticing the same phrase that had come out of Helaena's mouth minutes ago.

Returning her attention to the argument in front of her, she noted that the prince's platinum hair and his green garments were stained black. Realization fell into her, she widened her eyes, astonished. Had he really ventured into the dragon pit? Alone?

"They gave me a pig!"

"A what?" the queen asked.

"They said they found a dragon for me, but it was a pig" detailed, his voice breaking slightly.

She knew Aegon and she knew her brothers, and even though she was certain the last two had only been pawns used in the prank, a mixture of anger and disappointment washed over her. How could they tease and deceive the good prince in such a way? Worse still, with something that was also the cause of her tears.

"If he wants one, he'll have to close one eye" the princess beside her said, her gaze still fixed on the tiny entity. She spoke loud enough for only her to hear.

Her words were puzzling, and she didn't know how to interpret them. They could either indicate that she was still in her little world or suggest something deeper; it wouldn't be the first time for either option. She had heard her say... things before; at first, they seemed like mere nonsensical words, and suddenly something happened, something that reminded her of her words, something that led her to believe that her aunt had some kind of magic. No one had paid much attention to her when she shared her theory, dismissing it with disdain, saying they were just coincidences. But to her, it seemed like more than mere chance connections.

"Everyone laughed" Aemond murmured, trying to hide his sadness. Her anger now replaced by deep empathy. Alicent wrapped her arms around him, stroking his back.

The prince looked just as distressed as he left the hug and walked away as he did when he entered. It reminded her of her own feelings of desolation and loneliness, and she thought that there was no one in the kingdom who could understand her like he did. Not really.

She always had a special connection with Jace, a twin connection, as they enjoyed calling it. They understood each other with just looks, laughed at the same jokes, and shared the same tastes, except for the obvious; he loved his sword, she preferred her books. On the other hand, Luke had always been her little and spoiled one, her sweet and innocent child. That's why the situation had affected her so much. She didn't believe her brothers had meant to hurt Aemond, but they did anyway. They were insensitive, and she didn't want to see them grow up like Aegon, who with his character showed that he didn't know the true meaning of consequences.

It had been a few days since the incident in the pit and the birth of her brother, who was under the care of Diana, her mother's lady-in-waiting.

She tried not to lift her gaze from her plate and ate in silence, ignoring her brothers, offering them only monosyllabic responses. She was furious and intended to make it obvious. She huffed in frustration, trying to get her mother's attention so she could bring up the issue to the table.

"My dear, what troubles your mind?" she heard her mother ask as she gave her arm a gentle squeeze.

"Mother, have you heard about the incident in the dragon pit?" noticing her mother's concerned and confused look, she hurried to reassure her, "no one is hurt... not physically, at least."

"What happened?" her mother looked inquisitively at her sons, their heads looking down, ashamed.

"Jace, Luke, and Aegon played a prank on Prince Aemond. They told him they had a dragon for him and gave him a pig with wings, they even named it! Pink Dread." The children couldn't contain their laughter at the memory, which only made her angrier.

"Is that true?" her mother asked, wiping the smile from both their faces. It wasn't common to hear her upset or see her with a serious expression.

"It was just a joke!" Jace tried to justify.

"Aegon planned it!" Luke interjected.

"I don't want to hear justifications" she silenced them. "What if that joke had been towards your sister? Would you still be laughing?"

"It's different" Jace muttered, while Luke's lip trembled in a pout.

"No, it's not. Tomorrow during training, you will offer the appropriate apologies. From the heart. Aemond is family, and we must look out for each other. Isn't that so?"

"Yes, mother" they chorused, serious and repentant.

"Now you may retire to your chambers and think about what you've done," their mother pronounced, and before they could respond, she added, "no complaints." They nodded and left in silence.

"I think Aemond could use some kind words, don't you agree?" Rhaenyra suggested minutes later, breaking the silence. She responded with a smile, thanking her for understanding the importance of this to her. "Who better than you to do it?" She rose from her seat and embraced her gently, for she could see her still in pain. She planted a kiss on her forehead, the kind she cherished so much.

"Rest, mother. I'll ask the maester to make you some tea."

She smiled after hearing her daughter, thinking that any pain felt and to be felt would be an insignificant price to pay considering all she had gained. Jace, the next heir to the throne, who would reign with peace and intelligence; Luke and Joffrey, who would be the greatest and most honorable knights; and her daughter, her eternal and sweet companion.

There was no need to ask questions; she knew where to find him. A few floors up was the library, her second room, her refuge, where the world became a little quieter and she could transport herself to other times, places and lives.

She ascended the long stairs quickly, and within minutes, she stood at the door. This hallway had always been one of the least traveled, practically deserted, except for them and the king’s guards. It seemed there weren't many avid readers in the keep.

They used to be at opposite ends of the table, immersed in each of their books. She had always wanted to talk to him, ask him what he was reading and maybe ask him to teach her High Valyrian. However, she never did; she had been too shy in his presence, and Aemond's distant form didn't help. Perhaps he was shy like her.

Or perhaps he simply didn't want to talk to her.

She tried to push those thoughts to the back of her mind as she entered the library. She smiled to herself when she saw she hadn't been wrong.

"Good morrow, uncle" she announced her arrival as she headed to the usual shelf and picked up the book she had left halfway through a few days ago.

"Good morrow, niece" he responded with his usual seriousness.

She walked to the table and hesitated. Should she sit closer to him this time? She didn't want to invade his space, but she also didn't believe that a conversation should start at a distance.

She arrived at the table before deciding and stood there for a few seconds. She ended up placing her book at the usual spot and sat down, feeling uncomfortable.

Why was she feeling this way? She wasn't the one who played a distasteful joke, besides, he was family; they had grown up together in the castle, it shouldn't be so difficult.

Suddenly, she felt warmth engulf her when she noticed Aemond looking at her, puzzled. With the book still closed, her cheeks turned red as she realized she had been staring at him all this time, lost in her thoughts. She mentally cursed herself and searched for the page she was on. He looked away, not saying a word.

Her mother had asked her to talk to him and she had really wanted to, so she didn't understand why she found it so hard to approach him.

She audibly sighed and abruptly closed her book. He did the same seconds later. As always.

It was curious; every time they were here, they seemed… united, connected in their readings; when she finished, he did too, shortly after. They put away their books, and he walked to the exit, hurriedly, and then held the door, patiently waiting for her to exit. They parted ways upon reaching the floor of their chambers, all without exchanging a word other than greetings or thanks.

The king and the queen did a good job with him and Helaena. She couldn't say the same about Aegon, unfortunately.

She knew it was only a matter of seconds before he got up from his chair, so she cleared her throat and, with her book in hand, marched towards him.

Aemond furrowed his brow; he didn't seem upset, rather bewildered by the new proximity when she took the seat to his right and opened her book again, an action he imitated seconds later.

She found it impossible to read; she observed the page, but the words blurred together as her mind was occupied with something else. How should she start? It was clear they had something in common. Two things, in fact. Long conversations weren't necessary to know it, so she ventured there.

She cleared her throat, trying to get his attention, without success. Then, timidly, she placed her hand on his, causing an immediate reaction.

He remained still, stunned by her movements. He just looked at her, with eyes wider than usual. It was then that she realized how different they were from the rest of their family. Her grandsire, her mother, Aegon, Helaena, they all had eyes as clear as the sky on a sunny day. But not him, his were darker, bluer, with a trace of purple in them. As deep as the sea, and as beautiful as a sapphire. His hair was straighter, platinum, and even softer, she would dare to say.

How she wished to have the Targaryen attributes, just as distinctive as they were beautiful. Another one of her biggest insecurities and sorrows. It wasn't uncommon for people to be surprised when they saw her and her siblings next to their parents, as they hadn't inherited such beauty. They were equally pale, but with a tumultuous mane, full of curls, of the darkest black and eyes sometimes green, sometimes brown.

Once again, she felt the red fill her cheeks, her gaze lost in him as her thoughts swirled.

"Do you know that my father's sister also had an unhatched egg? Just like us," she said, softly, looking him in the eyes and trying to comfort him, "now she's the rider of Vhagar, the oldest, largest, and most feared dragon in the entire kingdom."

She waited for a response that didn't come. "I like to believe that our wait will be rewarded, don't you?" then added. He only nodded, almost imperceptibly, without taking his eyes off hers, "I wanted to apologize."

Now with a confused look, Aemond finally decided to respond, "why?"

"They shouldn't have done it... It was cruel." Understanding dawned on him.

"No need to apologize for something that you did not do, niece." She couldn't help but smile at his words. Was he always so serious and formal? She thought he was like an adult trapped in the body of a little boy. An old soul.

"Can I ask you something?" she inquired.

"Yes, of course."

"Did you really enter the dragon pit? Alone?" she asked, curious. She noticed his face changing, a smirk of pride forming, his lips curling up into a small smile as he straightened up in his chair, now more upright.

"Yes, I did."

"Did you see any?"

"Yes, but it was too dark to know which one..." he began, with a spark in his eyes, and noticing her attentive gaze, he decided to continue "it throwed fire in my direction" he added, her eyes wider than before, conveying her astonishment.

"Gods! You must have been so terrified."

"Not really" he simply responded.

"That was... you're incredibly brave, my prince. I wouldn't have had the courage" she said and received a wide smile in return. She had never called him "my prince" before and she had never seen him smile.

She continued to listen attentively. No history book had ever excited her as much as the prince's adventures, and seeing him so enthusiastic about telling them filled her chest with something she didn't know how to name. Something warm. She liked it.

Despite it being their first real conversation, and the first time they looked each other in the eyes, there was a mutual understanding, a connection, different, special. One that went beyond being dragonless riders or relatives raised under the same roof.

It seemed to her that only a few minutes had passed when she felt a knock on the doors and a voice announcing that it was supper time and Alicent awaited for her son's presence. Both of them showed disappointment at the interruption; he seemed to have so much more to say and she hadn't had enough of his words. She thought she could listen to him for the rest of her days.

"Forgive me, niece, I must have tired your ears," he said before standing up, "and I didn't ask about your stories; you must think me rude." His words elicited a laugh from her lips, as it couldn't be further from the truth.

"Not at all, I would have liked to keep listening to you. Besides, I don't have stories as brave as yours, and I wouldn't want to bore you to exhaustion" she replied.

Once they had put the books back in their place, they walked to the door.

"I do not think that's possible" Aemond communicated with his hand on the doorknob. There was silence as they descended the stairs with the guards behind them.

"Goodnight, my princess" he said once they reached the floor, calling her that way for the first time.

"Goodnight, my prince."

"Perhaps tomorrow we could... continue?" It came out almost as a whisper from Aemond's lips. A smile on hers.

"Nothing would make me happier."

#aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #house of the dragon #house targaryen #prince aemond #aemond one eye #hotd fanfic #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen fluff

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myocsfanfictions · 1 month

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THE WRATH OF FIRE

House of the Dragon Fanfiction

MASTERLIST

Princess Ysilla Targaryen is the only daughter of Prince Daemon Targaryen and lady Rhea Royce. The affection that she felt for her mother was strong, while her father had never been there, acting as if Ysilla was not even his. But she was. The dragon egg that had been put in her cradle hatched. An outcast of a dragon was born. A dragon with no legs. An outcast of a dragon for and outcast of a dragon rider. Ysilla’s hair were dark, but streaked with white. She was a Targaryen and her wrath was not different from the one that burn inside the members of the House of the Dragon.

《 Previous - Next 》

CHAPTER 3

Ysilla had loved her time in King's Landing. Her uncle was a sweet man, and he liked Ysilla's company. It had been strange for the little princess because no man had ever treated her like family. She had only her lady mother in Runestone. But King Viserys had been very kind to her, allowing one of the Maesters of the Dragonpit to follow her back to the Vale so that he could attend to her dragon.

"Your grace," she had asked timidly one morning as they were breaking their fast. Queen Alicent was with them as well.

"Tell me, dear niece," Viserys answered with a smile.

"I would like to learn High Valyrian," she noticed how the King shared a look at his Queen. A hint of sorrow was in his eyes, and Ysilla wondered if she had asked too much.

"That would be a lovely idea," the King said, smiling gently at her. Ysilla blushed, happy that her uncle appreciated her wish. "From your mother's words, I know you like to learn."

"It is true, your grace," Ysilla answered, nodding her head. The Queen chuckled softly.

"Let's hope our Aegon will have the same endeavor for knowledge," Vyseris said.

Ysilla had met the little Prince Aegon, who was almost two years old. The girl did not know what to think of him; he could not even talk properly yet.

"Is my father happy to hear it as well?" Ysilla asked curiously. But then again, she noticed how the King shared a look with his wife.

"I... I'm sure he is, dear." Those words should have made her happy, but they didn't because she was not sure how true they were. Was her father not happy with her? Was she disappointing him?

"Did I do something wrong?" She asked, confused.

"Of course not," her uncle was quick to say, "Your father is at war; it's been long since I last saw him."

Ysilla looked down. She was truly so silly. She was only two when the war on the Stepstones started. But she wanted to meet her father and talk to him.

She had been trying to talk about him sometimes, but no one would talk about Daemon Targaryen. She was not sure why, but it seemed to her that the Hand of the King didn't like her father, while the king seemed pained to talk about his brother. But no one explained anything to her; she was too young, they said.

She had hoped to get to know her father better in King's Landing, but he was far even in a place that he had loved. Or so her mother would say.

Ysilla missed Runestone, but she could understand why her father loved King's Landing so much. Her favorite place was the Dragonpit; she even loved the smell of dragons. And it seemed that her own dragon liked to be there, too. At first, she was afraid he would not have recognized her, but he did, happily and clumsily crawling in her direction.

"Is Vhagar in the Dragonpit as well?" She had asked curiously at Rhaenyra one morning under the Heart Tree.

"She is too big," Rhaenyra answered. "Why? Do you want to see her?"

Ysilla smiled, "Visenya was Vhaghar's rider," she explained, "I like stories about Visenya."

"I like them too," her cousin answered, sitting closer to Ysilla, "I would have liked to have a sister like you."

Ysilla felt like blushing, but then she got curious, "You've got Aegon, though," but Rhaenyra's eyes lowered silently.

Did she not love Aegon?

Ysilla wondered why. But she dared not to ask, not wanting her cousin to get sad.

"I hope my dragon will be as big as Vhaghar," Ysilla confessed, "And that I'll become as strong as Visenya." And that her father would be proud of her.

"I'm sure you will," Rhaenyra promised.

Ysilla was enjoying her time in King's Landing. She enjoyed spending time with Rhaenyra and the Queen, but never together. The two of them didn't seem eager to stay in each other's presence, Especially Rhaenyra.

"You truly look beautiful," said Alicent the morning of Aegon's second name. The Queen was wearing a beautiful red gown, and her auburn hair was held together by a net of jewels. Ysilla blushed at the compliment. No one ever complimented her appearance. Her mother didn't want her to focus only on her physics. She was a woman of the Vale, stronger than most. But Ysilla wished to be pretty. She sometimes wished that her hair was silver like the rest of her family and not strange like hers. Dark and streaked with silver. It always looked messy; it didn't matter how many times she'd brushed it.

"I wish I was as pretty as you," she said, biting her lips.

"You are just five of age," the Queen told her gently. "You've got time to think about those things." Then she put her hands on her shoulders and said, "Shall we go?"

That would have been her last week at the Capital, and she was very sad about it. She enjoyed that visit as much as her dragon. He was little, but he was not afraid of other dragons, and he was growing healthier by the day.

The feast for Aegon's name-day was like nothing Ysilla had ever seen. So many people were dressed in rich, embroidered clothes and the finest jewels. All the ladies fussed about Aegon, and they were all happy and made a lot of compliments. They seemed to love him very much, the first son of the King.

"May I introduce you to my niece Ysilla Targaryen, Lady Redwine?" The King said, lightly pushing Ysilla towards an old lady. The woman looked at her. Her eyes lingered on her hair, but then she smiled. It was a tight smile; it didn't fully reach her eyes. "The daughter of Prince Daemon," Ysilla nodded her head proudly at the woman's words. "It is a pleasure to meet you, princess."

Ysilla bowed clumsily, "The pleasure is mine."

"What about Lady Rhea?" Lady Redwine asked the King. "Is she not present?" Ysilla didn't like her tone. She seemed to be judging and mocking. But she had no right to speak in such a way about her noble mother.

"Lady Rhea is a very busy lady," her uncle answered, "But Ysilla is here in her place."

The woman nodded, "To not let people forget." Ysilla frowned, looking up at her uncle, who was glaring at her for some reason.

What should people remember? Ysilla asked herself. She did not understand that woman.

"How about Prince Daemon, your grace?" Lady Redwine asked Viserys, "What words are from the Stepstones?"

Viserys smiled with tension. Ysilla could tell he did not like the question. "A war of little concern for the realm." Ysilla frowned again.

Her father was fighting. His brother. Why was that a little concern?

"Ysilla," Alicent called her, gesturing to get closer to her. The little princess looked at her uncle once more before doing as she was asked. "What about you sit here with Aegon?" she asked, gesturing to the wet nurse to put Aegon on a soft carpet. You could play together."

Ysilla was not sure what she should have done, but she nodded nonetheless. Then, she sat quietly next to the little prince, but her eyes remained on her uncle.

I wish I was older, she thought. I could understand better.

Ysilla started to play with Aegon a little, but her eyes kept looking at the people around. And she noticed it. They would whisper as their eyes lay on her.

Is it for my hair? She asked herself. But even if she hated her hair, she was not quite sure that was the reason behind their gaze and whispers.

Then suddenly, she felt something pulling at her dark lock, not enough to hurt her. When her eyes moved, she noticed Aegon looking at her hair curiously before his lips turned up into a smile. He seemed to like it.

It is not for my hair. She thought, looking back at a man with golden hair and a roaring lion embroidered on his chest, whispering to his twin brother.

Did they know something she didn't? Did something happen to her father at the Stepstones, and no one would tell her?

She wanted to know.

Ysilla managed to get away from Aegon's grip before telling the wet nurse that her tummy was empty and that she would have to go to eat something and then come back. Ysilla walked to the table, observing the food as if she were truly hungry, hoping to catch someone talking about the Stepstones and her father. But she didn't catch anything. Women were talking rumors, and men were looking forward to the hunt that would have closed the Prince's celebration.

Nothing of her interest, then she heard it.

"The King does not want to help," she heard the Hand say to a man with the sigil of House Hightower on his chest. "Daemon and Corlys Velaryon acted without His Grace's word," Ysilla was as quiet as a shadow as she walked closer to hear them better.

"He has always been a disgrace," the other man said, "And the folly about Dragonstone."

Otto Hightower nodded. "His Grace wanted him to go back to Runestone, but he never wanted to."

"We all know how he disrespects Lady Rhea and his daughter." Ysilla felt her hands shaking. What did it mean? She did not understand.

Otto took a breath, "The goat and the goat's daughter. He truly is vile."

Ysilla felt her eyes fill with tears, but she was quick to walk away. Wanting to forget about that conversation. But she couldn't. Her father couldn't have talked about her and her mother in such a way. Why?

That could not be possible. They must have been lying. The Hand didn't like her father; she knew that. But could that really be a rumor? What was his end?

Those words had been repeating themselves in her ear for all the rest of her visit to King's Landing. And they never went away. They've kept coming louder and more painful.

_____________________________________________________________

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ellebakers · 8 months

Text

I am not an object | Part one.

Part Two

• Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Summary : Daemon broke your heart more than once, will you forgive him when he tries to get you back ?

Warning(s) : Daemon is a dick, angst, fight, jealousy, language, mention of Harwin.

You couldn't believe it.

He had come back. Prince Daemon was back at the castle, you didn't know if your heart could survive another heartache. When Alicent told you this news you had to sit down to avoid falling backwards.

Concerned, the queen sat down at your side. "Y/n, are you okay ?" Your throat tightened and you nodded reassuringly, unable to speak.

If twenty years ago you had been told that Alicent would become your rock here, you would not have believed it.

Indeed, during your childhood, you were not the best friends in the world. The only thing you had in common was being Rhaenyra's Maids and friends.

It was while becoming friends with the princess that you met Daemon.

The first time you had seen him was during a meal given in honor of the future son of the king, he had not even cast a single glance in your direction, but who cares, you were fifteen years and for the first time you had felt new feelings towards the prince.

Your first broken heart was when you learned from Rhaenyra that he was going to marry a whore.

This woman didn't love him, how could he marry her ?

Then this (love) story didn't work, so he came back to his family, and it was from that moment that things changed between you since the evening of his return, after a few drinks, he insisted on sharing with you, he ended up taking your virginity, and these activities became commonplace since every time he wanted to relax, he came to see you, fucked you and left.

Then there was Laena, and he stopped coming to see you, he wasn't even looking at you anymore, he just left.

Years passed, and as you recovered from the behing hole Daemon had left in your heart, it was Rhaenyra who stabbed you. She stopped talking to you, leaving you alone, at least until Alicent insisted on hiring you as a companion, but over time you became like sisters.

As you gradually regained control of your life and your emotions, Laena died. And the same routine returned. Daemon came back, he cried on your shoulder, making you feel guilty, he fucked you again until he found interest in Rhaenyra and dumped you again, leaving Alicent to manage with a broken friend.

Some time passed and you managed to rebuild yourself, until Rhaenyra returned to live in the castle with her sons and... Daemon.

That's why you find yourself sitting around the table where the Targaryen family and Hightower were, the tension was palpable but for the good of the king, the two parties said nothing.

You kept a neutral face as Alicent tried to talk you out of your mind, but you felt Daemon's piercing gaze on you, there was no way you were giving him satisfaction and looking at him.

Alicent had to leave to take care of the king, leaving the place next to you empty, and Daemon wasted no time in coming to occupy it.

"Lady Y/n."

His voice was low and smooth, he used to use that voice when he wanted to end up between your thighs.

You took a big sip of wine to give yourself courage and without looking him in the eye you greeted him.

"Prince Daemon, it's good to see you again. I'm sorry but I'm not feeling very well, it's better that I go back to my room. Please excuse me."

You got up and all eyes were on you, something you hated, you sneaked in politely smiling at the guests, once out of the room you let out a breath of relief and went towards your room .

As you walked through the darkness, footsteps were heard behind you, as you were afraid it was Daemon, you were relieved to hear the voice of your protector, Ser Harwin Strong.

"Lady Y/n, are you feeling okay ?"

You smiled sincerely at him and sighed. "I'm just a little tired Ser Harwin."

The knight looked around and once assured that there was no one, he approached you slightly. "Tell me the truth my lady please."

You took a deep breath. "I am scared." You admitted, your lip trembling.

Harwin grabbed your face in his hands and with the back of his thumb he wiped away the tears that were falling.

“Tell me what you’re afraid of.”

"I know I won't be able to resist him, and I'm afraid he'll rip my heart out again."

Harwin Strong was, along with Alicent, the only person who knew about you and Daemon. He was assigned to you as a protector by the queen when she married the king, so he saw the damage the prince had done to you.

One thing you didn't know was that he dreamed of smashing Daemon's face against a wall every time he saw you crying because of him.

"Listen to me Lady Y/n, you are the fiercest woman I know besides being the kindest, smartest, sweetest and most beautiful. And cut out my tongue for what I'm about to say, Prince Daemon only thinks with his dick, he doesn't deserve you to look at him, you are so much better than him, don't let him have a hold on you."

His words made you blush, but they also gave you the strength needed to face Daemon, and the next day when the prince requested an audience with you, you accepted, along with Ser Harwin of course.

Daemon was surprised that you didn't ask your protector to leave, and even though it bothered him, he swallowed his anger and invited you to sit at the table in the garden.

"Lady Y/n, I am delighted that you have accepted my invitation. It is truly a pleasure to be in your company. I would like that said, to discuss a private matter with you, you might ask Ser Harwin to leave so that-"

"No."

Daemon was surprised by your tone.

"Excuse me ?"

"I won't ask Ser Harwin to leave, if you have anything you want to talk to me about you can do it in front of him."

The prince blinked, looking between you and Harwin. "I don't think he wants to hear what I have to say."

You repositioned yourself on the chair to have an upright and sure posture, then you crossed your arms on your chest.

"I believe I know what you wish to speak to me about my prince and I can assure you that Ser Harwin is aware of what is bothering you."

Having had enough of beating around the bush, Daemon leaned on the stone table. "Fine. Why are you avoiding me ?"

You couldn't help laughing. Asshole.

"Are you serious ?"

He was looking at you like "In your opinion ?"

You looked at Harwin for a moment, and his encouraging words from yesterday began to echo in your head, suddenly a rush of adrelanin invaded you, you turned your attention back to the prince and you took a deep breath before speaking as calmly as possible.

"I am not avoiding you my prince, I am only staying in my place. I am not one of your servants or even your whore." Harwin pursed his lip to keep from smiling with pride. Daemon, in the other hand, was speechless.

"All these years you have only used me when you needed it and then threw me away like you throw leftovers at dogs. And once again you come back to me, why ? Either because the princess does not satisfy you, or out of pride, for years I was stupid enough to believe in you and imagine things, but that time is over."

You got up slowly and slightly put your dress back in place before adding. "Contrary to what you think my prince, I am not an object. Now please excuse me but this meeting is over."

As you turned your back on Daemon, he called out to you. “You seem to forget something.”

You turned to face him. "What ?"

He was still sitting, he had something evil in his eyes. “I always get what I want.”

Even though he scared you, you decided not to show him. "Not this time my prince.

As you walked back, Daemon and Harwin looked at each other.

The prince was clearly mad and had a look of

We'll see.

As for Ser Harwin, he had an expression of pride.

That’s my girl.

#house of the dragon #hotd imagine #hotd x you #hotd x y/n #hotd x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x female reader #daemon targaryen x reader #ser harwin strong #ser harwin x reader #harwin strong

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