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#daemon x reader fluff
lokisprettygirl · 6 months
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Close Ties (Daemon Targaryen x Female Reader) (Modern AU) (Non canon) (18+)
Chapter 1
Summary: A decade after he disappeared so suddenly from your life, you reunite with the man who you used to address as Uncle..lovingly.
Warning: 18+, dad's best friend trope, canon (we don't know her), familial uncle niece sort of relationship but he's not really her uncle, there will be smut later, significant age gap but reader is in her mid twenties, mention of infidelity, divorce
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"Honey you remember your uncle Daemon right?"
Your eyes perked up as you heard your mother's voice.
"Ofcourse, what happened?" You asked her as you turned around to look at her, you were getting ready for your parents 25th anniversary party when your mom thought this would be the right time to mention his name. Ofcourse you remembered him, you'd never forget him.
"Oh nothing, your daddy was able to convince him to come, we are going to see him at the party, isn't that exciting? It's been ages.. hopefully those two will make it up finally" she said cheerfully and for a moment you felt dizzy. You never thought you'd ever hear about him again let alone see him..
"Oh my gosh, is this uncle daemon the same uncle daemon? The hot guy in your old family pictures?" Your best friend Cassandra whispered in your ear so you looked at her, she was a beautiful blond and bit of a slut which you didn't mind, you both had been friends since college even though at times you felt envious of her, it was only natural, she was everything you were not.
"Yuppp…that Daemon" you sighed deeply as you began to feel jittery. You hadn't heard from him, of him or seen him for over a decade, something happened between him and your father, you just didn't know the truth, you didn't know why their friendship had ended so suddenly that not only Daemon had cut ties with your family but also moved to the states with his wife Stella.
"Ohhh he just got divorced so don't mention it" your mum said to you.
Oh well, shit happens right?
After fidgeting in the room you collected yourself and made your way downstairs to join the celebration.
Your eyes immediately met with Daemon as you stepped down the stairs, for a moment there was a look of unfamiliarity in his eyes, you felt as if he was checking you out or maybe that was just wishful thinking on your part. He looked good, so good, as good as you remembered and definitely good for his age, if you didn't know he was almost 43 now you wouldn't have been able to tell really.
He had a maroon jacket on with loose tee underneath, a cross chain on his neck, his hair was a fluffy mop of blonde loose soft curls on his head just like you remembered, his shoes shined so bright you wondered if one could see their face on them and damn you wanted to see your face on them.
You didn't want to act as if you were ignoring him so you made your way to Daemon, he had retreated towards the bar and had his back turned towards you while he sipped on a neat whiskey.
"Uncle Daemon" he turned around his head to look at you and a smile graced his features,
"Y/n?" voice as rugged as you remembered,
"That's me"
He put his glass down and wrapped his one arm around your waist to give you a quick hug. He smelled divine.
"You grew up didn't ya?"
"Well it took ten years but I guess I did" he chuckled as you said that.
As you now stood near him you could see the signs of aging on his face, his skin still looked soft and blemish free but those lines on his forehead had gotten more intense with time, none of it stopped him from looking sexy as fuck though. How was this possible? You were just a kid back then with a stupid crush, a crush that you knew has possibly ended as he had disappeared from your lives then how come you felt so awestruck as you stood so close to him after so long?
"How have you been?" You asked him as you sat down next to him, his mouth curved into a smile
"Fine..how are you?"
"I'm okay..So you're here just for the party?" You asked him so he shrugged in response.
"Not really, I'm joining that anniversary trip thingy unless you want me to leave of course" he joked
You were surprised to hear that, you hadn't heard from him in ten years and now your dad had him join the family trip, what had even transpired between them?
"Mmmm you can come" he chuckled as you said that,
"How old are you now if you don't mind me asking?" He turned to you as he questioned,
"Do you not remember how old I was when you ummm vanished?" he chuckled again but this one was more from nervousness rather than amusement.
"Twelve?" He asked you, making you shake your head in response.
"Fifteen"
"I'm just messing with you, of course I remember"
"Mmmm.. I'm really Sorry about your divorce"
You weren't really sorry though.
The smile on his face faded as you mentioned it but he composed himself almost immediately.
"Good riddance, should have ended it a long fucking time ago..Christ i can swear in front of you now right?" You chuckled as he said that,
"Absofuckinglutely"
"Hey there now!! You're still not allowed to say those bad words missy" you rolled your eyes playfully at the comment "What's going on in your life anyways?"
"Not much uncle, just got my heart broken so I'm gonna spend the night nursing it" he winced as you said that.
"Tch tch who's the unlucky fella "
"Dylan, we were in college together "
"What did he do?"
"Just the good old infidelity you know"
Well it wasn't just that but you weren't ready to dump all your problems on him just yet or ever really.
"Did you love him?" He asked you,
"I liked him enough to be with him"
"Well..here then" he passed you his drink so you took a sip from it.
Bold of him to assume the gesture wouldn't make you giggle like a schoolgirl.
"For the broken ones" he cheered to youz making you smile in response
"You two met already I see" your father approached you two so you stepped down from the stool and hugged him, you hadn't seen him all day. He was a very busy man.
"You do remember him right sweetheart?"
"Of course, how could I ever forget?"
Daemon's brows raised as you said that. You have turned into a fine young woman, he couldn't deny that, perhaps if he was a mere stranger to you he'd have accepted the fact that he found you attractive but he wasn't, he had known you since you were just a kid and he wasn't going to cross that line. However he wasn't entirely sure about your intentions at the moment, the way you looked at him didn't seem so innocent or maybe he was overthinking.
You stepped away from him to not come across as desperate or give yourself away, you really thought you just had a stupid crush on an older man when you were just a teen but seeing him after so long had made you feel something again and you had no idea how to feel about it.
If he was just another man maybe you could have entertained this but he wasn't, he was the man who was more of a uncle to you then your own uncle had ever been and he was almost two decades older than you which almost seemed blasphemous.
"Damnn he's still hot huhh" Cassandra said to you, making you snap out of your thoughts.
"Shut Up he's old enough to be your dad, Cassie" she chuckled as you said that.
"He's just eighteen years older than us..besides what eighteen years olds have babies..ohhh wait your parents did" She joked so you gave her a tight lipped smile.
That's right, your parents were barely adults when they had conceived you, they were your typical high school sweethearts and got carried away one night but both of them loved each other so deeply that they knew they wanted to be with each other no matter what. They got married before your birth, however your father couldn't get his college degree until he had turned twenty five, and that's where he had met Daemon, even though your father was just a tiny bit older than Daemon there was an instant connection between them and that friendship had only bloomed with time.
You were just twelve when you had returned from the boarding school and that's when you had met him officially for the first time. His curly hair and a certain boyish charm made you see him differently, you never had a crush on a boy your age or anyone really before you saw him, maybe you just really liked how old and mature he was than you.
"Relax, it's not like I'm planning to marry him..I just want a one night stand, maybe two, please tell me he's coming with us to Bali" you sighed as she said that. You didn't want your best friend to get involved with him but did you really have a say in it?
"He is"
Your eyes met with Daemon so you looked away, after the party you went into your room and changed into a night dress, as you stepped downstairs in pretense of going into the kitchen to grab a water bottle you saw Daemon and your dad having a drink and smoke in the living room as they caught up with each other, he looked your way as he noticed your presence and gave you a small smile which immediately made you feel giddy again.
He was staying in the guest room so later that night you knocked on his door, you honestly didn't know why you were there but you just wanted to talk to him, as he opened the door he was a bit surprised but he smiled and invited you in,
"Umm I just wanted to ask if you're enjoying your stay"
You questioned him, he had his luggage opened on the bed,
"It's fine i guess.. how come you're still awake?"
"I sleep late"
"Mhmmm well i brought something for you, but for some reason I was still thinking of you as that fifteen year old girl"
He mumbled as he walked towards you to close the distance between and gave you a plushie.
"You thought I'd forever stay fifteen?" a giggle escaped your throat as you grabbed the plushie, ignoring the way his fingers brushed against yours and the spark you felt from the mere touch.
"Yeahh i wasn't expecting you to look like this now"
He crossed his arms as he spoke to you, did he just look at you from head to toe. God you hoped so. Wait no you didn't hope so. You can't do this.
You clutched onto the plushie and gave it a whiff, it smelled like him, that wasn't good, definitely not at all good for your health..
"It's okay I still accept plushies as gifts" you chuckled and it made him smile. There was a moment of silence between you two where you just stared at each other, he tried to not gawk at your bare legs and you tried to deny to yourself that you didn't have a crush on that tall, handsome, alluring man in front of you
"Well I'll see you tomorrow then ..uncle Daemon" you mumbled softly so he nodded.
"See you dearest Pixie"
He remembered. Oh god he remembered such a stupid thing.
The next morning, much to your dismay, Cassandra purposefully exchanged her seats on the flight to sit next to him, he looked even better today as he was in a loose fancy tracksuit and had sunglasses on, everytime you turned your head around to look at them, you saw her whispering something in his ears. Okay so you weren't the only one into older men it seems.
You would have taken your chance too if you were her, after all it's not her dad's best friend that she needed to worry about. For you however he was a forbidden fruit. A very juicy and delicious forbidden fruit.
As you all reached Bali there was a yacht waiting to take the group to the resort your dad had booked for the vacation, to you it seemed a bit frugal even though you had grown up in his riches.
You were the last one to board the yacht and much to your surprise Daemon was waiting there for you like the gentleman he had always been.
"Come princess" he mumbled as he put out his hand, the pet name though was uttered as a joke but it still made you feel flushed.
"Thank you good sir"
"Have you been here before? Bali i mean" He asked you
"Noo...you?" He sighed as you reverted his question.
"Once"
"Mmmm rich people am I right?"
"Says the one whose daddy owns the most luxurious hotels in all of UK"
"Well ..It's not really mine you know..i didn't make it or earned it..I'm barely a nine to five gal" he chuckled as you said that before he turned towards you and raised his glasses up to his head.
"You're his only daughter, when he dies, who do you think will inherit all of this?"
Okay, you had completely forgotten how cheeky he used to be.
"Stahp that's mean" you faked a gasp and it made him smile.
"It's just life Pixie" you nodded as you stared at his features. Gods he was pretty in a way that felt extraterrestrial sometimes.
"It's good to have you back..when you left I thought I'd never get to see you again" his brows raised as you mumbled that.
"Why did you want to see me again?" He enquired as he looked you right in the eyes and you froze, you didn't know what to say in response, your body trembled and his intense gaze made you feel flushed again.
Luckily for you, Cassandra intervened and took him away from you which for once you felt grateful for.
After that humiliating freezing incident you spent all day chilling in your room as you tried to not think of him. In the evening you built up the confidence again and put on a sexy summer dress to go to the beach party. Perhaps that will make him see you differently. You kept having these delusional wishes.
Daemon wasn't a man born yesterday so when your friend started to flirt with him excessively he knew she wanted him, your father approached Daemon as he noticed that as well and made a joke about how he was okay with it as long as it wasn't his own daughter. The joke didn't go well with Daemon considering their history together.
He wasn't just there to reconcile with his estranged best friend, he wanted to move back to London and he needed his help to do so and there was one other reason that he didn't want to think of. No, he hadn't forgotten their history but he came back with an open heart, he wasn't there to seek revenge, he really was keen on accepting your dad's effort for reconciliation.
All of those things were immediately shifted to the back of his mind when he saw you dancing with Cassandra, that was one thing he didn't see coming, not the dancing, you always danced, but the attraction he was starting to feel towards a girl he had been around since she was a kid, whenever he thought about your 12 year old self he felt disgusted with himself but that woman moving so sensually on the dance floor wasn't a child no more and he knew he needed to get a grip on this silly sexual attraction before things would turn messy again.
Besides he was still not over the divorce or his ex wife Stella, as much as liked to pretend he hated her now once he had loved her with all his heart, that's why he had stayed for ten years in that marriage. He stayed until his heart gave out on him..
He heard a click in front of his face and was snapped out of his thoughts, it was you. Ofcourse. Lord he hoped he wasn't staring right at you like a creep.
"Are you alright?" You asked him, your voice was tender, eyes seemed as if they held more than just mere curiosity. Maybe a bit of care.
"Yeahhh just..bored out of my mind, would rather stay home on a couch" You chuckled as he said that.
"Well i prefer that too"
Shouldn't have said that
You knew you shouldn't have said that as soon as you said it.
"That friend of yours..she's single?" He asked you and you felt your stomach drop almost instantly.
"Why? You won't fuck her if she's not?"
Okay maybe you have had a few drinks already. A smirk graced his features but when he spoke next he made sure to keep his voice firm as if he was speaking to a petulant child.
"Do not talk to me like that Pixie, swearing doesn't suit you"
"I'm sorry uncle" you mumbled meekly so he hummed in response before he turned away.
After that you watched him flirt back and forth with Cassandra and it only bothered you more and more with every drink you ingested. She was your best friend but you had never really told her how you actually felt about your sweet uncle, of course you didn't, it was a secret you wanted to take to your grave, so it wasn't not as if she was doing it on purpose, she just met a sexy middle aged man and wanted to jump his bones but what if it escalates? What if he'd fall in love again? Your own thoughts made you cringe viscerally.
You saw your mom and dad dancing arm in arm and it only made you feel even more lonely, you'd have brought Dylan with you if he wasn't such an asshole, that feeling coupled with whatever was going on with Daemon and Cassandra had already begun to make you feel sick.
"I'm going back to my room..have fun..but not too much" you chuckled to appear as if you didn't care at all so Cassandra gave you a look.
"Babe do you need me to come?" She asked you but her eyes were pleading you to say no.
"Noooo have fun..I'm alright i swear"
As you stumbled away from them, Daemon kept his eyes on you until you disappeared then he turned to Cassandra.
"She just got her heart broken..you should go be with her" he said to her so she smiled sweetly
"Awnnn you're really sweet, trust me I know her, when she wants to be alone she just wants to be alone"
He hummed as she said that but he knew you didn't like being alone, definitely not in moments like these.
"I'll be right back darling..don't go anywhere" he winked at her before he leaned into her to kiss her cheek. Then he made his way back to the resort, he knew he shouldn't have followed you, you weren't a kid anymore, you could take care of yourself, until yesterday he didn't even know whether you were alive or not so he shouldn't have cared this much for his once best friend's daughter but he did. For some reason he had always cared about you.
He caught up with you outside the elevator so he stood next to you,
"Are you going back to your room too?" You chuckled nervously after you questioned him. Why did he have to be so nice?
"Noo I'm just making sure you are okay..it's my job as your uhh friend isn't it? Always made sure you were okay"
Friend. He said friend. Not uncle. Friend.
You remembered his wedding day clearly as a day. He had found you crying your eyes out but you were just thirteen, a child, he just thought you had your usual teen troubles so he comforted you and didn't go to the altar until he had you all smiling. He really didn't have to, but he did. It was his wedding day , the best day of his life as he had so proudly announced at the reception so yeah he really didn't have to look for you but he did.
"Yeahhh you did..until you abandoned us all and moved to USA"
He registered the snark in your voice but he ignored it, he didn't really think it still bothered you. As you reached the room you immediately beelined to the bathroom because you could feel it coming.
"Don't follow me please"
You said to him so he smiled and followed you instead, as you hurled your guts out he held your hair back and even in your drunken mess state you felt aroused by the way his other hand was running on your back. Just great you thought, the man you always had a crush on had returned after years and he was witnessing you at your worst already.
Once you were done he helped you get up and made you stand against the sink as he turned the tap on,
"Wash your mouth" he told you so you rolled you eyes but followed his command. He ran a washcloth under the warm water and began to wipe your face gently, you couldn't help but look up, there was a soft expression on his face that you hadn't seen in years, his brows were scrunched and lips pursed as he concentrated on wiping your face to remove the makeup..
"Very thoughtful of you to do this" he smiled as you said that.
"No worries..used to do it for ..never mind"
You couldn't help but wonder how sweet and loving he must have been with his wife, you saw it in his eyes, he loved her, truly, deeply, completely then why weren't they together anymore?
Before your thoughts could spiral or you can do something even worse than just harboring a harmless crush on your dad's best friend he dragged you to the bedroom and made you sit down on the bed,
"Drink this" he shoved a glass of water in your hands before he grabbed the trash can and placed it right next to your bed in case you'd need it in the middle of the night
"Thanks" you mumbled before you laid down on the bed so he hummed in response.
"Don't go anywhere alright, stay in bed and get to sleep.. goodnight" he said to you and he was hoping for a response but he only heard you grumbling. However as he was about to step out he heard your voice again so he turned around to look at you
"Family"
"What?" He asked you so you turned your head towards him,
"I wanted to see you again, wanted you to come back because you always said we were family..then why did you leave me..us like that?"
His eyes teared up too as he heard your voice sounding so sad, he would never tell you why he had to leave or why he couldn't stay here. He couldn't. For your own good he would never tell you the truth.
"Y/n .. I --"
You cut him off before he could say anything. You knew you should have shut your mouth right there, you knew that but you didn't, the state you were in at the moment aided you in making the worst mistake of your life.
"You had always been more than just family to me..more than just an uncle"
Now what the heck did you even mean?
🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍
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princessbellecerise · 10 months
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Pregnancy Headcanons
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──── ✧*・゚*✭˚・゚✧ ────
summary | How the House of the Dragon characters would react before, during and after your pregnancy
warnings | Mentions of pregnancy and childbirth
this is a work of fiction. i do not own these characters
divider by @princessbellecerise
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Jacaerys Velaryon
Finding Out
Jacaerys has the audacity to look shocked when the Maester tells him that you’re pregnant, like the two of you haven’t been fucking like rabbits ever since you got married
No seriously—he literally freezes and just kind of…stares with an unreadable expression on his face
Just sort of wide-eyed, in shock before he finally snaps out of it and briskly walks away without another word
He’s not really sure what to do, or how to react to be honest. And it might take a few days for him to come around, but he will eventually
Bonus: Rhaenyra sees his reaction and she’s like Jacaerys, what did you expect?
And he’s like: Not this
And then she’s like: Well did you pull out? Ask for moon tea? Something??
And Jace is just like staring at her like: No? Why would I do that?
Like boy what did you expect when you literally nut inside your wife every single time
During Pregnancy
Once he does come around though, Jacaerys will be so protective. I’m talking like he barely let you out of his sight, and makes sure that everyone knows you’re pregnant
Like they can’t already tell, he’ll constantly tell people that you’re carrying his heir and that they need to be careful with you
Even the Maesters who literally know what they’re doing get a scolding by the future king if he thinks they’re being too rough
No one is allowed to get too close to you and if they do, Jace will always have one hand on his sword just in case he needs to defend you
He will even better himself at sword fighting, pushing himself to the limits during the hours that he’s not with you so that he can always be prepared
For Jacaerys, you being pregnant is sort of like a wake-up call for him, a chance for him to finally rise to his responsibilities and become a bit more serious
He understands the weight of being king now and for Jace, he’ll want to put away all childish things so that he could become the man you and your child need
Giving Birth
Oh my god he’s so supportive
I’m talking like this is a man that will get behind you and physically hold you while you push
Despite what anyone says, he will be there for the birth of his child and he will be so soothing
Holding you, kissing you, kissing your neck to calm you down, taking the cloth from the Maester and wiping the sweat off of your forehead
Jacaerys’ support of you never ends and he’s constantly telling you how proud of you he is even while you’re screaming your lungs out
He’ll help you breathe and let you squeeze his hand till you break it if that’s what you so desire
Calling you his brave girl and letting out teary laughter when your baby is finally delivered
After Birth
When your child is born, it’s like fatherhood is something Jacaerys is born for
He’s a natural; knowing exactly what to say and how to raise your children even if you are still figuring it out
Seriously, it’s like he has a cheat code or something
If the two of you have a boy, then Jace won’t hesitate to start grooming him to be king and unlike most father’s, he is very involved in his son’s upbringing
Jacaerys will be the one to teach him how to hold a sword, how to ride a horse and a dragon. Jace will be there for his son every step of the way no matter how improper it may seem
Likewise, if he has a daughter, he will be entirely overprotective
If you thought it was bad when she was in the womb, just wait until Jace takes one look at his baby girl
Suddenly, he’s terrified to let her out of his sight; sometimes even holding her on his knee during council meetings. She likes to play with the marble and Jace tries so hard to keep a straight face while also wrestling it out of her hands
Everyone at the meeting will try and pretend like they don’t hear her babbling and like it’s not the cutest thing ever while they’re talking about literal war
Overall, Jace would be prepared to defend you and your children to the death if need be, and he would be such a stern but loving dad
Lucerys Velaryon
Finding Out
Luke doesn’t even notice that you haven’t gotten your moon blood for several months and neither do you, until one day a servant happens to say something and you’re both like: oh shit
Since you both are still quite young you’re not really supposed to be having heirs at the moment. Like Rhaenyra specifically told this boy to not get you pregnant just yet and now he’s terrified of telling her
So yeah, it was an accident and Luke is so nervous he’s literally shaking when the Maester confirms it
But sweet boy, he will do his very best to remain calm and will put on a brave face for you
He’ll act like he’s not scared as well at the prospect of having children so young but on the inside he’s freaking out. He’ll hold your hand tightly and give you kisses to calm you down, keeping his voice from shaking to seem brave
During Pregnancy
Even though it’s a little too soon for the both of you to become parents, Luke will slowly become excited at the prospect of becoming a father
Like he’s so proud, growing to love his child before you’re even four months along
He decides right then and there that he’ll do anything to protect you and his child and swears that no harm will ever come to either of you
While you’re pregnant, Luke will take on every single responsibility so that you won’t be stressed out. He always has you relaxing and content while he deals with all of the hard stuff
And yeah, over the course of the months he will find himself growing up a little
Maybe a little bit too fast, much his mother’s sadness, but Rhaenyra can’t help but love the look of pride of Luke’s face every time he touches your belly. And neither can you
You love when Luke rubs your son or daughter and you especially love when he blows raspberries on your stomach, giggling every time while he coos to the baby or talks to them in High Valerian
It’s a such a sweet moment to witness and many people, sometimes even Daemon, catch themselves smiling or smirking at you and the young prince
Giving Birth
Okay, so Lucerys is now back to being scared shitless
It all started on the day you delivered your child, with Luke sweating and pacing outside of your room while the Maesters attended to you
Your screams severely upset him and he kept pacing back and forth in the hallway, peeking in the room and desperately trying to get a glimpse of you before the Maesters pushed him out
He wants to be there for you so bad, especially since it’s your first pregnancy and you’re crying your eyes out for him
Eventually, he’ll just have to say damn it and force his way in, gathering his courage for his wife. And even though the Maesters tell him that it’s highly improper, he’ll ignore them and will hold your hand the entire way
Whispering sweet praises in your ear and stroking your back while Rhaenyra or your own mother loudly encourages you
He’ll be so worried up until the moment he hears that first cry, and that’s when everything just melts away for Luke and all he can feel is happiness when the Maester hands you your child
After Birth
After your child is born, you and Luke are the absolute best parents
You’re both soft and gentle with your baby, and you’re glowing in a way that Luke just absolutely loves
Both of you have immense pride for your son or daughter and you fall in love immediately despite not even knowing if you were ready yet
You just…jump in and honestly it’s not so bad for you and Luke once your bundle of joy finally gets there
Lucerys especially is thrilled, winning the best dad award for always playing with your child or making up silly games to make them laugh
You love watching him interact with your baby because he’s just so good at it and he doesn’t even realize it
Sometimes, he’ll confess his insecurities that he might not do a good job at raising your kid and you literally have to be like: hold up. Luke you’re doing amazing already
He’d be scared and terrified on where this new adventure would lead but honestly, Lucerys has never been happier and in the end it would all work out
Also, he totally gets so excited when you let him pick out an egg for the baby, just like he did for his brothers
It’s almost like it’s tradition, and every single time Luke knows exactly the right one to choose
Aemond Targaryen
Finding Out
If you’re nervous to tell Aemond, then don’t be
Nine times out of ten he’s so perceptive that he’ll put it together himself and Aemond will be over the moon
He will not stop smiling the entire time the Maesters confirm it, pressing a hand to your stomach and kissing your belly
His reaction kind of throws you off a little bit because you’ve never seen him so excited in his life, but he reassures you that he’s been waiting so long for this moment and now he’s just ecstatic that it’s finally here
During Pregnancy
While you’re pregnant, Aemond hardly ever lets you leave your bed chambers. Nor does he let anyone other than your family or Maesters near you
He’s just so protective and he’s paranoid that something’s going to happen so he wants you to be safe at all costs
He definitely does his own research because it’s not like he distrusts the Maester’s, he just wants to be sure that he knows what they know and more about childbirth in case he has to step in
God forbid your baby won’t come or is stuck upside down—two common themes for Targaryen children. Aemond reads all about it so that he knows different ways of getting the baby out or repositioning it without hurting you
He’ll also read about different birth techniques and decides to teach you to make your labor easier
Making you drink raspberry tea, take walks or stretch to lesson your pain when the time comes
You have to admit, you’re a bit shocked when your husband comes to you and makes you start doing breathing exercises with him
After all, who would have thought Aemond of all people would be so involved and so devoted?
It definitely warms your heart to see though—and no matter how much you want to wave him, you always end up letting him help you because you trust your husband you know more than anything he has yours and your child’s best interests at heart
Giving Birth
Aemond will respect your privacy and will wait outside during your labors, but you better believe he’ll be right there
Listening to every scream and every detail just in case he feels the need to step in
If you really want him to be there, he absolutely will be in a heartbeat. And if anybody tries to stop him he’ll venomously tell them to get out of his way before pushing them aside
As much as he loves his incoming child, majority of Aemond’s focus will be on you and your safety
He’ll make sure everything is going smoothly before he even thinks about celebrating and only then will he finally start to smile, a grin like no other taking over his face when your baby is finally placed in his arms
After Birth
Aemond is a caring yet trusting father
He knows that if his child came from you, they’ll already grow up to be exceptional so he allows them to grow into their own person
He doesn’t hover, but he does care. A lot
He may not show it in every way but if your child wants his attention, they’ve got it. If they want to play with him, he absolutely will. If they want to be comforted? He’s there. They tell him they want some space? Then Aemond is in the next room over, ready to talk when they are
In a way, your children are way for Aemond to heal his own self. To be there as a parent like his never were
Early on, Aemond already swore to you and your babe that he would never abandon you or ignore you when you needed him most
He swore to break the curse his parents placed on him so he is very involved with his kids
He’s also very protective, especially considering what he went through in his childhood. He never wants his child to feel left out so Aemond will go searching for a dragon egg pretty early on
You better believe that thing is burning HOT until the moment it’s ready to be placed in your child’s cradle
And Aemond swears
He swears by the old gods and the new that if they allow his child to have their own dragon he would never commit another sin again, if that’s what it took
And sure enough, Aemond is beyond relieved when your babies egg hatches—the widest grin ever overtaking his face as the baby dragon prances about
You swear—you sometimes joke that it was Aemond’s fiery gaze on the egg that hatched it and not nature
And while that very well may be true, Aemond is just grateful nevertheless that even if he wasn’t delt the best cards, he sure would find a way to rig the game for his children
Anything just to make them happy
Daemon Targaryen
Finding Out
You wish you could say that after having two children of his own, your husband would recognize the signs of pregnancy
But unfortunately Daemon is not a man that concerns himself with that kind of stuff so it’s the Maester that points it out to him
And at first, Daemon is stunned
Like okay—he knows that he never pulls out and that the two of you go multiple rounds a day but pregnant?
He thought that your tits getting bigger was just, well, a huge blessing for him
He can hardly believe his ears or that he’s going to have more children
Briefly, he jokes that he may as well start breeding his own army which causes you to punch his arm
Joke aside though, Daemon is really happy and he will shower you with kisses, laughing slightly at how his seed must be extra strong to stick so fast
During Pregnancy
Daemon is not really much help himself, expect for when it comes to massages or warm baths
Almost every night, to ease your discomfort, your Lord husband will bathe you which is oddly intimate for him, or he will massage your feet and shoulders to soothe some of the pain
Of course, your other activities will remain as well which helps a little the closer you get to birth
Mostly, Daemon will be ordering Maesters around or just simply asking you of your progress from time to time
He really hopes for a boy secretly, and sometimes while you’re sleeping or just barely awake, he will rub your stomach and whisper sweet phrases in High Valerian
Expect Daemon to also already have the names of his children picked out, boy or girl
He might even ask Baela or Rhaena their opinion and let them choose an egg from Caraxes
If he has to be somewhere else where he cannot physically look after you, he’ll also entrust his daughters to keep them informed and up to date on your condition
Giving Birth
Daemon is outside, on the balcony while your screams reach his ears
Truth be told, it’s too much. He can’t be there as much he wants to be—as much as you surely need him to be
After witnessing Laena’s death, childbirth has become quite traumatizing for Daemon so he prefers to remain outside, waiting until a Maester or one of his daughters come to fetch him
Of course, Baela—ever her father’s daughter—scolds Daemon a bit and reminds him that every lady wife needs her husband during such times
But Daemon will not budge, not until Rhaena comes to the balcony with an unreadable expression on her face
At first, Daemon is terrified. He stands, the breath freezing in his lungs as he tries to decipher what that might mean. Your screams had died down…perhaps…
Daemon stands, his heart clenching in chest as he begins to possibly grapple with another untimely death of the one he loved. He prepares himself, but then a wide smile grows on Rhaena’s face and Daemon knows all is well
“My sibling is here. It is healthy, father.”
That’s all Daemon needs. And suddenly, he’s tearing himself away and down the halls, straight to your room where he walks in on the sight of your smiling face and the glowing cheeks of his newborn child
After Birth
You like to give Daemon the benefit of the doubt and say that he spends an equal amount of time with his children
Of course, maybe a little bit more attention towards the baby since he or she does need Daemon more than his adolescent children, but as your child grows up pretty much everything is the same
Baela and Rhaena absolutely adore their new sibling and vice versa. They may be a bit older but you’ll always find the three of them playing together or one of the girls reading them a bed time story
It always warms your heart to see them bond, and Daemon’s too
Though he’ll never admit it, his favorite thing to do is spy on his children and eavesdrop as the girls help the youngest with their Valerian
Or when the three of them are together, somehow still fitting on his lap and Daemon teaches them the history of their house while you sit in the background, smiling
It’s special moments like those that remind you that while you may have married a morally grey man, his number one priority would always be his family
And you know more than anyone that with Daemon around, the five of you would never have anything to fear
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arabellasleopardcoat · 8 months
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Capital (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)
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Summary: You think you married the plainest woman on earth, and you look away for one second and suddenly she is not. Typical. At least, for Daemon.
Warnings: Mature language, sexual thoughts, canon typical violence.
Requested: Yes! But since I am particular about my aesthetic, I didn't answer there. Jealousy + arranged marriage. Brought to you by the seven deadly sins.
Gluttony /ˈɡlʌtəni/
​the habit of eating and drinking too much.
Claw Island is as good as getting vanished from the court. You know it. Your Lord husband knows it. Even the tenants know it. Why else would the King order your marriage to Daemon Targaryen?
It was not as much of a punishment as the King had hoped. The Celtigars are a prestigious family, one of the few left with Valyrian blood. While not ones to flaunt their riches or seek for great power, you led a luxurious lifestyle.
The finest wines. Myrish rugs. The newest books. And of course, the riches from the surrounding sea. Beautiful pearls, a fleet that, while small, sailed with speed. The best foods.
The small island was your perfect little world, sequestered away from the troubles of the mainland. What else could a person long for, when they lived in a paradise? Claw Island had it all. Miles and miles of tempestuous sea, soft sands and gorgeous wildlife not seen anywhere else. Humble, but good people. Natural riches enough to last a lifetime.
But as of late, your breathtaking lands did nothing to bring you peace. Sometimes, in truth, as you walked along the shoreline, you wished for a tremendous sea wave to swallow you whole.
It would be better than this. Among the crabs, the sea life and wreckage of old ships, you would feel at ease. At home, even. And finally, finally untroubled. But things were not as you wanted them to be. With your Lord Father at court, someone had to mind the island. And no one knew the lands as you did.
You shuddered to think of something happening to you. In that case, the island, and its people, would go to your husband. Considering how much he hated it here, Prince Daemon would make a poor ruler.
You glare. He glares right back. Remembering your manners, you serve him a cut of spider crab seared in butter. The meal is rich and decadent, a show of the best Claw Island has to offer.
“Crab, Lady Wife?” Daemon raises both eyebrows. “Again?”
“What else does the Prince wish to eat?” You do your best effort at keeping your tone even. You try hard to not raise your voice at him, remembering the rumors about what happened to his last wife. So far, it seems to be working. Despite being older than you, the man behaves as a child. You have found he benefits from being managed as one, too.
Ever since you got married, he has been desperately trying to rile you up. The Prince always seemed to deflate when you refused to engage. He was clearly itching for a fight, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction.
“You seem too willing to indulge in cannibalism for my tastes.” Daemon, in what he surely believed to be the absolute demonstration of cutting wit, smirks. You smile at him, sedate. You have heard enough remarks about crabs to last a lifetime. “It’s worrying.”
You could answer him. Perhaps make a mockery of his inability to perform in bed and the behavior of the female praying mantis. You do not. Instead, you force yourself to give him a tight smile.
“Don’t worry. I will ask the servants to bring you fish.” You took your napkin out of your lap and placed it on the table. Dutifully, you rang the bell to call for a servant.
“Again?” Daemon complained, sounding much like a petulant child. You smiled and went back to your seat. Your crab was getting cold, and it would most likely be by the time your husband’s fish was served. But good manners dictated you could not start eating without him. You resigned yourself to another night of eating a cold dinner.
“You should write to the King, my Prince. I would serve you venison, were it not for the fact that your dragon has nearly extincted the population here.” While you were by no means poor, feeding a dragon was an expense you didn’t care for, especially one so picky as Daemon’s was showing to be.
While a dragon was a marvelous creature, and having one guarding your lands was a great perk, it was also hard. Caraxes ate the same as five grown men in a day, if not more. He didn’t eat just anything you served him, either. Much like his owner, he was picky. He had come with dragon keepers, and needed to be built a shelter.
You had hoped that his serpentine appearance would mean that he would eat a lot in one sitting, then hibernate, but no such luck. Your island couldn’t keep up, no matter how hard you tried. Animals didn’t reproduce at the pace required.
“Of course, my Lady. Of course.” Daemon says, in a dismissive tone. It’s then, when a servant comes in with his fish.
Your crab is cold. Again. Daemon is not pleased with the fish, but seems wary of extending dinner even more. For once, he doesn’t complain.
Dinner is eaten silently. In your head, you make plans for tomorrow's meals. Perhaps oysters, served cold, will withstand the wait better. You finish dinner and settle down to read some before bed.
When the time comes for it, you close your book. Daemon departs with a cold kiss to your cheek. You go to your bed, just as cold and empty as the kiss was, and fall asleep.
It’s around the witch's hour when he comes back to you, getting into the bed next to you. He stinks of cheap perfumes and oils. As he pulls you closer, to be able to hide his face on your neck, you can feel the smell of sex and alcohol induced sweat. It comes from the clothes Daemon hasn’t even bothered to shed before getting in bed with you.
You don’t like him drunk. He gets sloppy. You do better when he hides his indiscretions, the proofs of your failure as a woman. As a wife. He seeks his pleasure from other bodies, never yours. With you, he is unable to perform to completion.
Perhaps the same happens to him with others, on nights like these. That thought soothes you, and it’s the only reason why you allow Daemon to seek comfort in your arms. Sometimes, he has nightmares. It’s expected then, too, that you are the one to soothe him back to sleep.
Shifting in his grip, you rub his back, gently. You card your other hand through the matted strands of blonde hair, as a mother would do to his child. In many ways, you guess he is one. You pity him, your husband. A man with a void so deep, not even all the vices in the world could fill it.
You are unable to fall back asleep. You lay there for hours, staring at the ceiling. When you hear the rooster’s first crow, you roll out of bed. Sleep is not coming for you. Daemon, unperturbed in his slumber, only sprawls more. You tuck him in.
When you get to your vanity, you catch the servants leaving the correspondence for the day on it. She giggles when you point at the bed and the mess of clothes, gesturing for silence. It makes you feel better, that they think your husband comes from the pleasure houses straight into your arms for more than just cuddles.
One of the letters catches your eye. It’s written in the strange alphabet used for High Valyrian, bearing both the royal seal and the King’s name. You don’t mean to pry. In fact, you open it because you are worried your husband has upset his brother even more.
Marriage is like being tied to a ship. When the tides are good and the ship strong, you soar above the sea. But no one wants to be tied to a sinking ship. It’s that fear what leads you to heating a knife on your candle’s flame and lifting the seal.
You read as you brush your hair, unrushed. You know Daemon won’t be awake for at least six more hours. But the more you advance, skipping polite greeting, the more your stomach sinks, and you jump from sentence to sentence.
“And while I understand your dislike of Claw Island, it is a less harsh punishment than you deserve. Much you complained of wanting a Valyrian bride, and now the opportunity presents itself, ripe for the taking. Yet, you do not seem keen on it. Is it, again, the lack of a throne you find off-putting? Perhaps, the lack of a child bride you can manipulate? Your Lady Wife might not have purple eyes or silver hair, as you mention, but she is a maiden in the bloom of youth. Tales of her beauty have graced the court, shared among the eager mouths of her family and previous suitors. Both Lord Velaryon and Lord Mooton agree that the woman is a delight, well-mannered and easy on the eyes. She has impeccable breeding and education. I will not grant you the annulment. I will not allow you to go back to your whore.”
There is a coppery taste in your mouth. Blood, you realize. From biting your tongue so hard to avoid letting out a scream of rage. It feels like being stabbed, countless times. In your back, and in your heart. Betrayal and deep, hurtful sorrow.
What have you done to deserve this? To be blindsided so? You have stood firm through all the humiliations your husband puts you through. Never once reproaching the way he goes out after dinner and does not come back until sunrise. Never complaining of his audacity to search comfort in your arms when he is drunk and stinking of whores. Never once raising your voice at the insults to your people, your home, your family.
But for Daemon Targaryen, it wasn’t enough. You would never be enough. Childishly, when you had first heard of your betrothal to him, you had hoped for companionship, if not love. At least, you thought, you would have a friend. But you hadn’t been enough of a woman to keep him in your bed, you had not been enough of the blood of Old Valyria for him to give you children, and you had not been enough for him to stay married to you.
He took from you, and took from your island and from your family, and not once was he satisfied. Not once, he was sated. And now, Daemon has done the unspeakable. Not satisfied with making a mockery out of you, with his constant unfaithfulness, he seeks to ruin you further. It’s only King Viserys who protects you and your family from further embarrassment.
You have underestimated him, pitying him while he planned your demise. The ruin of your house. You have been sharing your bed with the enemy. The thought frightens you and fills you with anger at equal parts. What will happen, when the King dies and the awful Princess with whom your husband was so taken ascends? Will you be put to the sword, accused of an imaginary crime to get you out of the way? Treason, perhaps? Hands shaking in anger, you fold the letter and reseal it as carefully as you can.
That is the day you decide you will retreat into your shell, like any good crab. You will close yourself over, put up walls and keep him as far away as you can. And you will wait for the day to stab at his heels until his physique reflects exactly the useless kind of man he is inside.
One day, this man might kill you. You will have to make sure he does not get away with it.
Envy /ˈenvi/
​the feeling of wanting to be in the same situation as somebody else; the feeling of wanting something that somebody else has.
It’s not often you are summoned to the court. But your father is about to be named Keeper of the Keys, a prestigious position often held by members of your house before being promoted to Master of Coin. The implication is clear. Soon, another Celtigar will be handling the finances of the Kingdom. It’s a ploy, to intertwine you further with the Royal Family. As soon as King Viserys dies, it will be your father who serves on Princess Rhaenyra’s council.
Hence, the need for a celebration. Traveling from Claw Island to King’s Landing is exhausting, especially considering that you do the journey by ship while your husband does so in his dragon. He seems overjoyed about it, but you can only think of how much the separate travel is costing your purses.
Daemon arrives early, because of course he does. Meanwhile, you spend your time preparing to put on the play of your life. You must be the most dutiful wife in the Seven Kingdoms, or else he might find a reason to get rid of you. Setting apart your most fashionable dresses, preparing gifts for the King and Queen and otherwise looking radiant.
Knowing Daemon, he is already whispering poison in his brother’s ear. You need to dazzle the King and the whole court, convince them you are not only an adequate wife but a perfect one. No stain must be perceived in your reputation.
You arrive punctually, just in time to prepare for the feast. It’s inside the Hall where you meet Daemon, and greet him with a kiss on the cheek. Chaste, but affectionate, performed under the King’s approving look. You are radiant in your house’s colors, with subtle references to Targaryen’s ones.
The feast is torture. Viserys, Daemon and Rhaenyra are all seated at the same table. They get along wondrously, while you, Queen Alicent and Ser Laenor are ignored despite being next to them.
The only thing that calms your heart is watching your father, sitting at the table of the Master of Coin.
“My Queen.” You say to her, hoping to curry favor. The Gods knew you needed as many allies as you could. “I brought you this.”
You take out a beautifully engraved rendition of the Prayers Book. It’s a gorgeous edition, with a gold finish. You hope that at least, if she doesn’t like it, she would think it is a gift to the babe she carries. It’s a thoughtful gift, the kind of thing you excel at.
“Oh, Lady Targaryen!” The Queen says, and takes it, admiring it in the light. Fortunately, she seems truly charmed by it. “It is the most wonderful thing!”
“I have one myself.” You tell her, as if you had not purchased it for exactly this moment. “When I heard you were from Oldtown, I couldn’t think of a better thing to bring.”
“It’s lovely.” Alicent says, as your husbands ignore both of you. Viserys and Daemon are too busy having their fun to care about what women are doing. “Will you join me in prayer tomorrow?”
“I would be delighted to.” It’s the first genuine smile you wear since your arrival. And it’s the first time that someone from the royal family smiles back.
You do attempts towards Rhaenyra and Laenor. They both ignore you, and so, you decide to keep strictly to conversing with Alicent. You decide to leave Viserys out of it, despite your gratitude to him because you would rather not look like much of a sycophant.
Your happiness at finally making a friend between your in-laws makes you oblivious to Daemon’s silence. During the whole dinner, he barely taunts you. None of the crab-based insults he so favors are present, either. That should have warned you. If you have learned something about your husband is that there is never a time when he is quiet.
He bides his time. The desserts are already served when Daemon delivers his greatest insult up to date. Some couples are even swaying to the rhythm of the music already, no matter if the tables have yet to be cleared.
“I wish to dance, I think.” Daemon says, getting up from his seat. You start to get up too, knowing you cannot refuse him, but he turns towards Rhaenyra. “A dance, niece?”
Rhaenyra preens under the attention and takes his hand. For a second, you stay frozen, hand falling uselessly by your side just when you were about to reach for him. You feel like you are being stabbed. Again.
The humiliation is so great you wish for some great disaster, perhaps one of the couples bumping against a table and overturning it, just to get the attention away from you. Half the hall has now seen you get rejected by your husband. In a celebration meant to honor your father, nonetheless.
You struggle to keep your face emotionless, curved into a polite little smile. You have made a fool of yourself. Hot tears gather in your eyes, threatening to spill.
Noticing your despair, Alicent places a hand on your arm, softly.
“Thank you, Lady Targaryen.” She exclaims, loudly. “With the babe getting bigger and bigger every day, I find it harder to stand. You are very thoughtful.”
Her rescue, as she stands and walks down the dais, helps you save face. Your smile turns more genuine.
“It’s but good breeding, my Queen.” You answer, just as loud. “What kind of noble could see a Lady of your station and not aid her?”
Alicent smiles, and she cradles her stomach.
“Indeed. Only a savage, I would think.” Her glance at her own husband is unmistakable. But Viserys is too busy watching Rhaenyra and Daemon dance to help his pregnant wife. His eyes never leave his brother and daughter, his expression twisted into one of annoyance.
Alicent makes her way towards a table where a few knights sit. Most of them are from Oldtown, and you cannot help but smile at her doing the rounds her husband so neglects. But her rescue, and quick exit, leave you in an uncomfortable position. King Viserys and Ser Laenor are engaged in conversation, including you only when they remember your presence, which means once every half an hour.
Without Queen Alicent, you have no conversation partner. The only thing you can do is watch. Daemon twirls around the room as if he were not a married man, taking every eligible bachelorette in the room for at least one dance. He is enchanting, pulling blushes left and right. He dances twice with Rhaenyra and Laena Velaryon.
You play your part to perfection. Each time he glances your way, you give him an indulgent smile or a sweet tilt of your head. Even when he dances again with Rhaenyra, your expressions don't shift. Instead, you lift your cup to them and even find it in yourself to give a small clap.
It’s torture. It’s exhausting, having to play the devoted but never jealous wife, when he is doing his best to embarrass you. Finally, the King retires, but orders that the celebrations do not stop. You consider making your way towards your father, uncaring if leaving Laenor sitting on his own is rude.
Just as you are getting up, a knight, dressed in a fine green gambeson, steps in front of you. You look up at him, wondering what he could possibly want.
His voice is soft and eloquent, with the barest hint of an accent. His voice reminds you of someone, but you cannot quite place who.
“Lady Targaryen. You look beautiful tonight.”
“Thank you.” You answer him, politely. Is he about to ask you for a dance? Is this a ploy for your husband to embarrass you further?
The knight smiles. He is tall and slender, very different from your husband, yet handsome just the same.
“If I had a wife as pretty as you, she wouldn’t be sitting here.” He compliments, and startles a laugh out of you. It has been months since the last time a man complimented you so. Before marrying, you had quite the suitors, but no one dared practice courtly love with the Rogue Prince’s wife. And your husband never once spoke to you kindly.
It’s a thrill, to feel wanted and appreciated again. You love having his eyes on you. It fills you with a forgotten kind of confidence. As the daughter of the man whose star in court is rising, as a beautiful woman and as the wife of a Prince, you deserve to be admired. It’s not your fault your husband can’t see it, you are desirable. People should be currying for your favor. You shouldn’t be begging for the scraps of a man whose only interest is his niece.
“Would she be on the dance floor?” You tease the knight, falling back into the practiced flirtations that had made you so popular before. You feel like you are glowing again.
The knight shakes his head, a hint of mischief appearing in his brown eyes.
“I would forbid her from leaving my chambers.”
At that, you laugh again, blushing. Despite how charming he is, you are still a married woman. You cannot give anyone reason to suspect or judge you, else Daemon might have basis to rid himself of you.
“I am not your wife.” You say, politely. The knight gasps, as if wounded, making you laugh again. You do not realize someone is glaring daggers at you, entranced as you are by him. “But perhaps a dance might suffice?”
The knight gives you a cheeky grin. He takes your hand and pulls you to your feet, gently.
As he leads you towards the dance floor, you barely notice Daemon looking disgruntled on the edge of it. You look over and see Rhenyra dancing with some tall and broad knight. He is probably jealous of him.
“You must give me your favor, for tomorrow's tournament. We are, after all, celebrating your family.” The knight says, making you focus back on him. His eyes are brown and kind, so soft. They remind you of someone, but once again, you can’t tell who.
“Ah, I see you are a tough negotiator.” You tease, your tone turning slightly more girlish. This time, it is the knight who laughs.
“What can I say? It’s in my blood.” The man winks, as he starts to twirl you around.
“I think, my lord, you have yourself a deal.” You grin.
It’s only when a Hightower knight approaches the stands the next day and offers you his lanze, you realize the mistake you have made.
Wrath /ræθ/
​extreme anger.
Daemon can’t believe his ears. Out of nowhere, a sweet sound reaches him. It’s the sound of a Lady’s laughter, but something about it makes him turn his head.
Perhaps, the fact that the sound has managed to catch his attention at all, despite the loud music, chatter and other laughs. Perhaps it is that the sound is familiar to him. He doesn’t know what it is, but as the piece finishes, he steps aside and tries searching for the source.
It’s then he sees you. His wife. Glowing and laughing on that Hightower cunt’s arm. And no, it’s not Alicent he is referring to. Otto’s spawn seems to have a proclivity for you because this is the other one. The elder.
Gwayne. His hands all over you, a gentle touch to your lower back to guide you forward. And are your eyes brightening? For him? As you pass by Daemon, you barely spare him a glance. He manages to hear a piece of the conversation.
“Your favor, for tomorrow's tournament…” The man has the gall to ask, as if he could win you the flower crown! The nerve of that Hightower pup, to think himself able to win. It’s clear he doesn’t remember the last time he faced Daemon, and while he was already planning on entering, now he knows with absolute certainty he is competing. Gwayne Hightower seems to have forgotten his lesson. He needs to remember his place.
“… Tough negotiator…” Your cheerful voice answers. Probably telling him he has to win if you do so because you are Valyrian and proud like him. Surely, the idea of getting crowned Queen of Love and Beauty appeals to you. You want a flower crown? Daemon will get you the damn thing.
When he was no more than a boy, his father used to have a particularly overzealous hound. Daemon had taken great delight in setting him free just when ladies were visiting. The dog loved sniffing beneath the ladies' skirts and humping their legs. The whole scene often ended up with Daemon getting yelled at, either by the ladies or their husbands. Now, as he looked at the proverbial dog humping his wife, Daemon understood why the ladies' husbands were so enraged.
He should cut his hands. Hightowers. No sense of shame at all, with their whorish ways. They were all the same. There went Alicent, throwing herself at Viserys when poor Aemma was not even in her pyre. There went Gwayne Hightower, placing his paws all over you and trying to charm you when Daemon was still in the room.
Couldn’t he tell you are his? It’s not that Daemon likes you, but it’s an affront to his honor. You are the wife of a Prince. The mere fact that a measly knight thought he could compare it’s outrageous. And the fact that he dared touch you! The nerve!
It’s Daemon who shares your bed, back in Claw Island. It’s Daemon you hold during the night, who pays for your silly little dresses. It’s for him you have clearly gotten all pretty today. How dare he, that Hightower fool.
He can’t have you. Gwayne Hightower is not allowed to just swoop in and try to steal his woman. You are meant to sleep by his side, be his solace. You are not the kind of woman for whom a simple knight would be enough. Just like him, you love the lush life. Could Gwayne Hightower buy you a dress like that? Could he use a dragon to protect your little island?
Daemon clutches at his cup so hard, he thinks he might bend the metal. You are his bride. He is the only one allowed to have you. If he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t want to, but it doesn’t mean someone else can.
Rhaenyra approaches him again, no doubt wanting another dance. But not even her allure, which is usually so hypnotizing to him, manages to get him out of his bad mood. He hates when other people touch what is his.
Daemon decides to retire for the night, before she can reach him. He needs to think. How he longs for your shared rooms back at Claw Island. At least that way, he wouldn’t spend the night tossing and turning, wondering if the Hightower cunt escorted you back to your rooms, and if so, at which hour.
Strange, isn’t it? Such a small act can cause such a big shift in perspective. So many months, he had spent thinking of Claw Island a prison, longing to be able to come back to court. Now, he sees it as it was. A shell made to protect the most valuable pearl the sea had produced.
Had Daemon known men at court would try to steal his bride, he would have never authorized this trip. Your father could have been named Hand, but you would have never stepped foot outside your castle if Daemon had known. You would not be taken with Gwayne Hightower if he had a say in it.
He had a plan. The knight would make a fool out of himself. Daemon just had to encourage him in the right direction.
Daemon is up and about as soon as the sun is. He strolls towards the space prepared for the tournament, armor in hand. He changes slowly, giving plenty of time for Gwayne Hightower to arrive.
The foolish knight does. So do you, sitting next to your father in the stands, all pretty and glowy under the sun. You wear a red gown that compliments not only your skin tone, but pays homage to both of your houses. After all, both House Targaryen and Celtigar have red on their coats of arms. A clear show that you were meant to be his, and his alone. What would you even look like, if you were married to a Hightower fool? Red and green would look hideous in a dress.
As the highest-ranking competitor, Daemon gets to make the first challenge. To no one’s surprise, he picks Gwayne Hightower.
Daemon waits with bated breath, already seated on his horse. Does the man dare? Oh, he dares! The Hightower cunt gallops towards the stands. You don’t rise, looking towards the Hightower whore. It’s then he realizes you must be truly innocent. You are either doubting the boldness of the man or are not aware of his house, and do not recognize him under the armor.
But as Gwayne Hightower reaches the stand, Daemon close on his heels, he takes off his helmet. You gasp.
The Hightower whore makes a move as if to get up. Her brother’s voice cuts her off.
“I was hoping to get a sign of your favor, my Lady.” The man says to you, and your eyes widen. You stand, shakily. You look at Daemon, then at the cunt, then at him, then back at the cunt. Daemon arches an eyebrow, visor lifted. “For you have already struck me with your beauty, and the fact that you cannot be mine. Allow me the consolation of placing a crown of flowers upon you, and soothe my wounded heart.”
You gasp at the bold declaration. Daemon has to admit it, the cunt has some nerve. Not only has he praised you in ways that are too bold even for a couple courting, but he has slighted Daemon in front of the whole court. He has made explicit mention of your marriage to him.
Viserys eyes him warily. Daemon scoffs. The distrust is unnecessary. Why would he slaughter the Hightower now, when he has the chance to plummet him into the ground without consequences in just a few minutes? Besides, it would be in bad taste, slaughtering the brother of his sister-in-law.
Your father urges you forward, with a forced laugh. You grasp one of the favors from your box, which has only two, and place it upon the Hightower’s lanze. The pretty ribbons sway in the wind. White and red from House Celtigar proudly displayed.
Daemon clears his throat, and presents his own lanze.
“How touching.”
You ignore him, as Rhaenyra approaches. Surely thinking how he will want to wear her favor, after his rejection of last night. Curse him, Daemon thinks. He should have danced with you. If he had known that up jumped son of a rat was going to try his luck, you would have not left Daemon’s arms the whole night.
“Thank you, niece. But today I fancy wearing my wife’s favor. For it would be a shame for her to be lacking her crown once her champion undoubtedly disappoints.” He loudly declares, uncaring if his niece’s face falls. Rhaenyra will get over it. But this has turned into a manhood competition. He can’t let Gwayne Hightower, of all people, win.
“Can I do that?” Daemon hears you whisper towards Viserys and his whore. “Can I have two champions fighting each other?”
Viserys, as if this is the most fun he has had in a while, answers cheerfully.
“Of course, my dear girl.” It probably is the most fun he has had in a while. Really. It must be very amusing to him, after hearing Daemon complain about you for months. Who would have known he would have to fight some Hightower for your attention? Laughable, really. A Prince groveling. “Double the chances for you to get the flower crown, is it not?”
“Of course.” Your father jumps in, clearly trying to prevent a scandal. “Go on, love. Give the other one to your husband. If more are needed, we will get more ribbons.”
You approach Daemon, pretty little favor on your delicate hands. You smile at him, pleasantly. But this close, he can tell you are shaken by the power play happening right in front of your eyes.
Daemon lowers his lanze as you stretch to place your ribbons. You give him a confused and hurt look. He stretches closer.
“Save that one.” Daemon says, as he places a hand on your hair and pulls out the red ribbon that holds it back. “I’m your husband, I get some privileges.”
His gesture makes you laugh. Daemon feels on top of the world. He gives a superior glance to the Hightower cunt, as if saying: Look at me, I do not need half your effort and get double the results.
Daemon is not so deluded as to think the laugh is more than half nervousness and half playing the part of the dutiful wife you are, but to Daemon is still a win. He can see why the other lords want you. With your hair loose, smiling and with your skin glowing from the sun, you are actually quite pretty.
He ties the ribbon around the pommel of the lanze.
“A kiss, for good luck?” Daemon knows he is pushing, but cannot help but be smug. His pretty wife gave him her hair ribbon to tie around his chosen weapon, for all the court to see. Smugness radiates out of his pores.
Without any expectation, the sweet peck you give him is even more of a delight. Even more sweet is the disgruntled look on Gwayne Hightower's face.
Safe to say, the man gets unseated so fast, it has to be the quickest defeat ever registered. The crunch he makes as he falls from his horse it’s the most satisfying sound Daemon has ever heard. The crowd gasps and cheers. The man does not get up.
That will teach him, he decides. Gwayne Higtwoer will never again even look your way. Daemon turns his horse back around, ready to face his next opponent, but it’s stopped by the pages.
“Ser Gwayne Hightower has requested to continue with the sword.” At that, his blood boils. He nearly jumps off his horse, discarding the lanze and unsheathing Dark Sister.
“What will it be, boy? First blood?” He saunters towards the man, and the sight of him this close only serves to anger him more. He shares Otto’s slender build, tall and slight. In Hightower armor, he even looks like him. Daemon is going to enjoy this.
“Why stop there?” The knight asks, hatefully. “Until one of us yields.”
“As you wish.” Daemon charges, forgoing his shield. He is just too angered for politeness. This is not jousting anymore, it’s his hate for Higtowers, and the fact that this man has tried to take something that’s his. He should have never looked your way. Never. And if it’s up to Daemon, perhaps he will leave the arena without the ability to repeat the feat.
The fight is quick and dirty, but even when he has disarmed and cornered him, Gwayne Higtower refuses to yield.
“What are you..?” Daemon asks, utterly confused because the little savage is grabbing Dark Sister with gauntled hands and pulling.
“Just as marriage is not an excuse for not loving…” He grins, teeth bared in a feral little grin, and Daemon lets go of his sword in surprise at the boldness of the fool. “No weapon is no excuse for yielding.”
He loses it, then. Later, he will only remember red. Daemon throws himself at him and starts punching him, until the asshole goes limp on his arms and has to be pulled away from him.
Only the fact that the Hightower fought back is what allows him to keep participating in the tournament, instead of being exiled again. The split lip and bleeding eyebrow do serve to build a case in his favor.
He wins the tournament without any opposition. With bloody hands, he places the flower crown on your head. Your horrified look is not as satisfactory as he would have thought.
Pride /praɪd/
the feeling that you are better or more important than other people.
Daemon manages to get a hold of you before you vacate the stands. You are trying to avoid the crowds, waiting patiently in your seat. He doesn’t allow it, urging you towards his chambers with a firm grip on your wrist.
Some other ladies titter and giggle, pointing towards the two of you. No doubt, they think he is about to ravish you. They are not wrong.
It’s not often Daemon feels desire for you. In truth, while you have a pretty mouth and a soft body, you do little for him. But today, you are enchanting. The flower crown still sits atop of your windswept hair, making you look like a forest nymph. There are a few red stains along your temple, left there by Daemon’s hands when he placed the crown on top of your hair.
Never has there been a woman more deserving of the title of Queen of Love and Beauty. As you walk with him down the halls, he feels a smug sort of satisfaction. Here is the woman half the court wants, Daemon wants to scream. Here is my wife.
The feeling is not unfamiliar to him, but it is in relation to you. His possessive nature so far has only extended towards members of his house. The lust is new, too. Daemon has experimented it many times, but never towards whom he should.
As soon the door closes after you, he kisses you forcefully, only for you to shove him away.
“What are you doing?” You ask, as you spit out some of his blood. You are remarkably strong, having been able to push him while still in armor. But what shocks him the most is the fact that you did it at all. Months of marriage and you have done nothing but smile, regardless of what Daemon does.
“Shh, Lady Wife. Nothing unusual, I assure you.” He pulls you back in, kissing along your neck. This time, you push him even harder.
Daemon stumbles and blinks, hard. Are you rejecting him? He sits down on the bed and takes off his helmet. He has beaten the Hightower fool half to death and won you the silly flower crown. Why would you reject him?
“You prefer him, don't you?” That has to be the answer, surely. You must be having an affair with the cunt. Why else would you reject him? It’s not allowed. While Daemon is not particularly keen on forcing you, you are his wife. He has a right to your body, and you shouldn’t deny him. You know it. Never before have you refused him, due to the same reason. So this must be something else.
“What nonsense are you on, now?” You barely lift your eyes from your work, busy with pouring some water in a bowl and taking out clean linens. Efficiently, as if a seasoned healer, and not a soft lady from Claw Island, you rip them apart.
“Don’t play daft, wife.” Daemon reproaches, scowling. Your innocent act is starting to tire him. You can’t possibly believe him so dumb. “It doesn’t suit you.”
“If this is about Ser Gwayne…” You start and he feels the urge to scream. He can’t help but cut you off.
“Of course it is! Of course it is about that fucking Hightower.” Daemon’s voice goes high-pitched, imitating yours. “Ser, Ser.” He rolls his eyes. “How easily they hand titles now. Is every scum in this realm a knight?”
Your face doesn’t even twitch. That is one of the things about you that drive him to insanity. No matter what Daemon says, he never seems to get a reaction. It’s infuriating. You are all manners and dimples, even in the face of the most vile insults he throws your way. You either have no honor, letting him stomp all over you, or you think him right. Pathetic. Even the Bronze Bitch bit back.
His nostrils flare. Softly, you step between his parted legs and dab at the cut on his brow with a soaked linen. Ever dutiful.
“You do know adultery is a crime.” Daemon says, in a low, threatening tone. You give him a pleasant smile, squeezing water out of the cloth. It runs red and fast down your wrist.
“So is incest.” Your voice is far too cheerful for someone who just got accused of a crime that’s punishable by death if he so chooses. And not only that, but you have the nerve to threaten him.
“I am a Targaryen.” Daemon practically growls. You glare at him. He should be angry, but instead, his loins seem to heat up. Who can fault him? Any man would feel the urge to take you over and over, when faced with those eyes and those lashes.
Surely, after it, you would understand you were his and not Gwayne Hightower’s. It was not such an ambitious plan. Perhaps a lesser man would have trouble with it, but not Daemon. Give him ten minutes between your legs and you would be singing his praises.
“And I am a Celtigar.” His pause has allowed you enough time to form a retort. You press down on the cut on his brow with a viciousness that startles him. Daemon winces in pain. No getting distracted, he notes. Less you murder him when he is not paying attention. “To stifle the blood flow.” You explain, but Daemon can see the bloodlust in your eyes. You want him to hurt. The past few months have not gone in vain, it appears.
“Mine, you are mine.” He replies, gruffly.
You let go of the cloth, hands on your hips. Your mouth opens and closes, astonished.
“You don’t have any right to speak those words to me.” How he longs to grab you and show you exactly who is in charge. There you are, screaming! You! The woman who Daemon doubted knew how to make sounds louder than polite conversation. “Am I not the bride you never wanted? Your chain? Well then, sail free. Go!” You scream, and Daemon needs to pick his jaw off the floor because never has he seen you this angry.
Are you screaming at him? He feels the urge to pinch himself, to see if he is dreaming. But the way you are pointing your finger towards the door seems very real. Still a bit confused by the sudden personality change, Daemon does not obey.
It feels like a dream. Like stepping into a parallel world. The words that come out of his mouth are spoken by a stranger, and he can only watch as you turn more and more furious.
“No. Come here.” Daemon grabs at your gown, trying to pull you into him. He doesn’t really know what he is going to do if you budge. Place you in his lap and placate you with a kiss? He doesn’t get to find out. Grabbing you has clearly been the wrong move.
You slip out of his grip with a harsh jerk. Daemon is not as young as he used to be, but the sight makes his lust bubble up. You are alluring when angry, all passionate lines, and bloody temples. Valyrian, in a way you had never been before, with your darker coloring and soft manners. Yet, when mad? You are a conqueror goddess made flesh.
“No! I will not. I am not yours. We might be married but I will…” You stomp your foot at him, all angry little crab. For the first time, he sees fire in you.
Such a shame this is the moment you chose to grow a spine. He couldn’t understand where you had been all this time. So many months wasted with the meek little wife, when he could have had you instead.
Why had you decided to show you had a personality now, of all times? It was not fair, if it was for that Hightower cunt.
“Why Gwayne Hightower? Out of all the men on earth?” Daemon mutters, clearly not low enough because you answer him.
“This is not about Gwayne Hightower.” You glare, crown of flowers balancing precariously on top of your head. As you move, a few petals fall down. Angry little dryad that you are, you bat them away.
“If not, what is it about?”
“You!” You scream at him. It’s hateful, it's rage filled, it’s everything you are usually not. A true Valyrian goddess, letting mere mortals feel her might. Daemon would have enjoyed the display more if he wasn’t the mortal in question. “I forgot what it felt like to be wanted. To be looked at as someone who was desirable. Do you know how I have felt? Begging for scraps of attention, trying to make this work?”
“Wife…” He pleads because now there are tears in your eyes, and while Daemon doesn’t do begging, he doesn’t do comforting either.
“Do not call me that! Didn’t you petition for an annulment?” And how had you found out about that? While he had not been exactly secretive with his correspondence, he didn’t believe you to be proficient in High Valyrian. He has no time to ponder on it because you intend to go further. “Well, you are in luck! I will make my own request!”
“Viserys will not allow it.” Even if Daemon has to go beg him on his knees to not grant it, you are not annulling this marriage. Not when he is just starting to see the real you.
“Fine! Then I am going back to Claw Island. Stay here.” You scream, and you look so determined it scares him. For a second, he actually thinks you have the power to ban him from the island and force him to stay, giving you plenty of time to receive visitors. Male visitors, all surrounding you, courting you, as if he were already dead and not just exiled.
“Look. I’m sorry. Can we start over?” Daemon offers, in his most pleading tone. He has not apologized since… Gods. He barely remembers how to do it.
“You made me forget I deserved more than scraps.” You laugh at him, as his first apology to someone in more than ten years is the funniest joke existing. Then, enraged. “It will be a cold day in the Seven Hells, when I give you another chance.”
Hurt. He realizes, as you throw the flower crown at his feet and slam the door. Hurt. You are hurt, not angry. He has done the worst thing a man can do to a woman. Damage her pride.
Lust lʌst/
very strong sexual desire, especially when love is not involved.
Much to your dismay, every time you try to speak alone to the King, you are swiftly intercepted. If it’s not Corlys Velaryon asking you to help him pick a book in the library, it’s your Lord Father summoning you to his chambers. It seems like the whole palace is in it because even Princess Rhaenys asks you to stroll with her through the gardens when you lurk too close to Viserys’s chambers.
Daemon was smarter than you thought. He had taken to using your own weapons against you. The need to be polite kept you from rejecting all these new invitations, and so, you often ended up stuck an entire afternoon with nonsensical plans.
As time passes, your rage starts to subside. Much to your disgust, it morphs into shame. You cannot believe how you lost control in front of Daemon. Everything you have worked so hard on could vanish for a single afternoon pf foolishness.
You would rather not be his enemy. When the time comes for the two of you to go back to Claw Island, Gwayne Hightower is still bedridden, despite it already being days. Daemon is a dangerous man to cross.
Strangely enough, he doesn’t seem angry, or even resentful. In fact, your husband has never been more attentive. With the talent of existing just at the right moment, Daemon appears at your side each time there is a door to be opened or a chair to be pulled.
“No one has ever seen him like this.” Queen Alicent marvels, as he watches him go fetch you a blanket in case the room is too cold for your liking. “Whatever you did to him…”
“Nothing, I assure you.” You answer, sternly. You don’t want her getting funny ideas, like that you are dabbling in witchery or the Seven knows what. It’s not something you can afford. Already balancing on a tightrope after the fight, any accusation could be your ruin. You do not trust Daemon’s change of heart. He is probably just biding his time.
Noticing something is amiss, Daemon comes back with the blanket, wrapping it around you. Alicent falls quiet.
Daemon stares at you, his hands lingering on your back more than necessary. He seems to be taking you in. His eyes fixate on your bosom a tad too long before you realize what he is doing, and you cover yourself more with the blanket.
Your cheeks heat up. You cough. Alicent’s brows raise.
“You are so beautiful, wife.” Daemon says, a bit dumbly.
“And you are a fool.” Your response is heated, and stupid, too. But you feel too embarrassed to care. Alicent is still sitting there, with a scandalized look on her face. Anyone would be ashamed to be the object of such obvious ogling, much less when they have never been exposed to it.
You are unused to this side of your husband. At most, when trying to consummate, Daemon would glance at you with disdain and proclaim it was all your fault. His eyes would never watch the heaving of your chest as you breathed, or the sway of your skirts when you walked. Were you superstitious, you would have thought him a man possessed.
Daemon laughs, either at your comment or your expression. It’s good, you suppose. At least he has not taken offense. You would have thought he would be angered, never one to suffer affronts to his pride without reacting.
“Your fool.” He leans down and places a kiss on your forehead, before walking away.
You stare at him. Alicent stares at you. Neither says anything. You are not sure what to make of it. It’s strange. It’s him now, who serves you dinner. The choicest cuts of meat, the sweetest of wines and meads, never asking for anything in exchange.
He has gotten unusually affectionate. Or possessive. Whatever it’s going through his mind, you don’t know. Daemon has never been open about his thoughts and feelings with you, unless they stem from displeasure.
Perhaps it’s a burst of boastfulness. He flaunts you, a hand on your waist, lower arm, whatever he can get away with. He is suddenly interested in the dresses you wear, commenting on them and gifting you new ones just because he thinks they would suit you. You do not miss the fact that the dresses are always in his house’s colors or styles he personally favors, with intricate needlework and embroidery.
It’s interesting. Once again, his testing of boundaries seems to come back. His hands are always playing with the curls at the nape of your neck, or the folds of your skirt. You have even caught him toying with the buttons of your bodice. It borders on the inappropriate.
“You are pushing it.” You say to him when his hands curls around yours as you dance. He is supposed to keep his hand extended for this step. He doesn’t seem to care. The other guests give him amused looks. No one is about to chide a Prince for his lovesick behavior towards his wife. Especially in a goodbye feast for the couple.
In truth, you are starting to think most of the fathers at court are relieved. If the Rogue Prince is chasing after his wife, then he is not chasing their daughters.
“Holding your hand is pushing it?” Daemon holds your hand more securely, as he makes you spin. This is another new and unexpected development. Now, he only dances with you. No heated looks at Rhaenyra, no longing glances towards Laena. You are not sure how you feel about it.
“It is. You are inconveniencing everyone.” You say, as he spins you again with a flourish. Despite wanting so badly to keep being cross with him, you cannot help but laugh with childish delight. What girl doesn’t want to be twirled around and made to feel special? “You are supposed to exchange partners.”
The balance of the dance has been thrown off by his refusal to let go of you. Any time there needs to be a switch, the couples flounder around the two of you. It’s childish on his part, but he seems unwilling to let you dance with another man.
“Oh, you haven’t seen me pushing it yet.” Daemon laughs, and pulls you in until your body is flush against his. It’s improper and probably not allowed. Scandalous, even. Yet again, no one is about to say anything.
Much less you, suddenly realizing that being pressed so close to Daemon is quite enjoyable. He smells surprisingly clean this evening. No trace of alcohol on his skin, or other women’s perfumes. Instead, he smells of the soap he usually favors and some sort of aromatic oil.
“Will you push further, then?” You raise your brows. It’s sort of amusing that Daemon is trying so hard. You would have not taken him for the seducing type, not when he had been so keen on dissolving your marriage.
“I will.” Daemon leans in, to whisper in your ear. His voice is low, thick with desire. It makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “I want you. I burn for you. I need you in my bed, on top of me, under me, any way you will let me have you.”
You give a scandalized little gasp, softly hitting his shoulder. Daemon grins, pulling you in even more. The two of you are so close, you imagine you can feel his heart beating against yours.
“I’m not done.” He chuckles, leaning in to kiss your jaw. Daemon’s lips trail kisses towards your ear, teasingly blowing some air against it. “I want to spend the nights feasting between your thighs, on the valley of your breasts…”
“Stop it! We are in public.” You squeak, yet you look up at him like a flower searching for the sun. The attention he bestows on you is flattering, and you can't help but want to hear more.
“Do you want to hear a secret, wife? Every time you walk, I find myself lost in the sway of your hips. I want to drown on it. Drown on you. Until no trace of another remains, until the taste of your lips is the only thing I know.”
By this point, your skin feels so hot you worry you are about to combust. You gape at him. Not only has he dared to make a bold declaration, but he has done so in a room full of people.
You take a moment to gather yourself. Daemon could be bluffing for all you know, and so, you decide to match him. You brush your thumb against his cheekbone, feather-light.
“Then do it. No one is stopping you. Come to bed. Drown on me. Drink me, take me, ravish me.” You are trembling, and you only realize it when Daemon holds you tighter against him. You feel feverish, voice lowered to an urgent whisper. “Give me Valyrian sons, to hold my island when we are both gone.”
“No. No.” He says, against the curve of your neck, embraced much closer than the dance requires, making a spectacle. “I want them to have your smile and your eyes, and that infuriating curve of your shoulder. Give me daughters with your smart mouth, and your even temper. I want them to be proof of the love I had for you.”
You tremble more. Love. He really said… Oh, by the Seven.
“You are shaking.” Daemon kisses your brow. “Don’t. Unless it is from pleasure.”
Laughter rings in your ears. It's yours, but it feels foreign. You are too stunned to think clearly. Daemon tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear.
“Are you still there, Lady Wife?” He taps at your lower lip with his thumb. There is a teasing tilt to his smile, but his eyes are nervous. Vulnerable. Daemon was clearly not planning on confessing tonight. “Or have I broken you?”
“Prove it.” You say, still caught up on the love part. His declaration has sent your mind reeling, and shown you all of your latest interactions in a new light. You don’t know if Daemon knows what he is doing. He is a deeply passionate creature, much like his house’s sigil. Daemon doesn’t do infatuations, nor does he do dislikes. He loves or hates, and there is no in between.
“I will.” He promises, playing with a stray piece of hair that has fallen out of your up do. “Our whole lives. But perhaps I can start tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” You frown, puzzled. You even pull back from his embrace to be able to look at his face. What an odd thing to say. Despite it, you admire the utter shamelessness he has about it. Were it you the one accidentally confessing, you would be a bundle of nerves.
Daemon doesn’t even blush. Of course, there is the small fact that he believes himself to be the Seven’s gift to humankind. You suppose if you believed yourself to be irresistible, you wouldn’t be nervous either. Cockiness wasn’t something you thought did it for you, but it seemed like you were learning new things every day.
“You will see.” Daemon smiles. You let him keep his secret, figuring it can’t be anything that bad.
You discover what he means when you arrive at Claw Island. A dragon egg waits for you, the fireplace clearly modified in a hurry, judging by the new stones and bricks that were added to the hearth.
“Even if it never hatches, I want you to have it. For you are as Valyrian as we are, and I was a fool not to see it sooner. You are worthy. It should have been on your cradle as a child.”
Greed /ɡriːd/
​a strong desire for more wealth, possessions, power, etc. than a person needs.
The way his eyes trail after you now, it’s quite unfamiliar. Not lust, nor disdain. Something entirely new. Heavier.
Your afternoons have been filled with new entertainment. You coo at the egg, holding it over the fire. Sometimes, Daemon kneels beside you and helps you hold it, making a game of it. How long before either of you gets burned? How long can you endure, hands so close to the fire, before you are yelping and giving it to him?
When you think he is not looking, you speak to it in High Valyrian, whispering soft promises of how loved him or her will be once it hatches. There is no doubt in your mind it will. Perhaps not in weeks, or even months. Yet, your heart tells you there will be a dragon before your life ends.
Every night, you place the egg in the bed next to you. On your side, you curl around it, trying to share your warmth. Daemon reaches forward, sometimes. When he thinks you are asleep, his hand will curl over your waist and touch the egg, pressing it more against your stomach. You wonder what he means by it.
Does he know what he is doing? The low lullabies he half sings, half mutters under his breath indicate a yes. The way his lips curl into a soft smile against your nape show a longing that’s very much not subconscious.
Just as a pot of boiling water, the egg hatches a night no one it’s looking at it. Both Daemon and you are curled in a love seat, engrossed in a book. He is reading something about the doom of Valyria, your legs over his lap. You are submerged in a text about a man’s travels around the Free Cities.
One of his hands is wrapped around your ankle, in the sweetest of chains. Each time he flips a page, he will brush it with his thumb, softly. While not unwelcome, it’s strange. You are not used to being comforted in the same way you did for him during the first months of marriage. While Daemon doesn’t expect any kind of retribution, you find yourself granting it anyway.
The domesticity is quickly broken, however, when a strange noise fills the halls of your home. At first, you are unable to hear it through the background noise, but if you strain your ears, you can just make it out. It’s a shrill cross between a bird’s chirps and someone crying.
“Daemon?” You close your book and stare at him. Unable to help it, you get a little sidetracked, watching his face. His mouth is pursed in concentration, the candlelight giving his features a golden glow. Despite him being several years older than you, you cannot help but find him terribly handsome. Age has only turned him more distinguished. You betted he was dashing when younger, but unlike his brother, he has aged like a fine wine.
Sensing your eyes on him, he gives you a lazy smile.
“Little wife.” His voice comes out in a pleased rumble at having caught you looking. Your face heats up. Daemon's eyes shift from yours, to your mouth, then back to your eyes. You squirm under his gaze, trying to focus.
“Do you hear that?” You force yourself to utter.
“Hear what?” Daemon leans more towards you, his hand squeezing your knee. You give a small, delighted shiver. Good gods, what is it about him that gets you to turn into a puddle of want with the simplest touch?
“Some sort of animal crying.”
Daemon frowns. He tilts his head to the side, as if to listen better. You keep quiet, hoping to aid him. Then, his face breaks out in the biggest grin.
“It hatched! You amazing, wonderful woman.” He praises, pulling you into him. The hug is awkward, but it doesn’t last because you are too eager to see the baby dragon. Your dragon. You squirm out of his hold and rush out of the room, not even bothering to put on shoes, Daemon hot on your heels.
When you open the door to your chambers, you find the cutest thing ever. A baby dragon, slimy and confused, sits in the middle of his egg in the fireplace. It’s all big, dark eyes and long limbs, much like a baby horse. Unable to resist the temptation, you reach towards them.
“I do not…” Daemon tries to stop you, but the baby dragon climbs right up into your arms, curling close to your chest. Eager to touch it, you let it climb over your shoulder and nuzzle you, even if the sudden weight makes you stagger a little.
“That was really dangerous.” Your husband reprimands, trying to lift it away from you. The baby dragon snorts towards his direction, as if attempting to breathe fire. It only manages to give a cute little sneeze. Daemon glares.
“Aw, you are just like a baby.” You coo at the dragon, petting its head. Daemon looks even more disgruntled.
“Your dragon tried to burn me.” He complains.
“It’s a baby, husband. They don’t know any better.” You rub the scales on its back, soothingly. Unwilling to let go, you find yourself looking around your bedroom. “Let it stay here? Just for tonight.”
Daemon glares. You give him your biggest, most pleading eyes. He relents.
“Fine. But it’s not sleeping on the bed with us. And only for tonight.”
“Only for tonight.”
A month after, and the baby dragon is still sleeping in your bed. He has taken to laying between Daemon and you, leeching off your warmth. Daemon complains of having to sleep on the edge of the bed and his back being sore, but despite it, never once asks you to send the dragon outside with Caraxes.
The trouble starts, how not, with a trip to King’s Landing. This time, you ride with him, as a passenger to Caraxes, while the baby dragon follows. When Daemon lands, the dragon keepers fret around your baby, unsure of what to do with the unexpected visitor.
You command him to stay by your side, despite the protests of the dragon keepers. You are arguing and complaining and shielding your baby while Daemon only watches, amused.
Perhaps the commotion attracts more people, or someone calls for them, but you end up cornered as King Viserys makes his way to the dragon pit.
“What do we have here?” He asks, smiling at you. You give him a nervous look. Your dragon has gotten bigger, and so, you can not pick him up gracefully, but you usher him behind you regardless.
“Nothing, your grace.” You say, lacking your usual charm. You feel nervous about leaving the baby dragon on his own in the dragon pit. What if the other dragons don’t like him? What if he gets lonely?
With one hand, you reach for Daemon. His fingers meet yours halfway, squeezing reassuringly. More often than not, being a woman, your orders were not taken seriously. But if your husband gave an order, people would rush to obey. You hope he intercedes in your favor.
“Daemon, please.” You say, under your breath. “Don’t let them send him away. He will behave.”
“What do I gain, little wife?” He asks, interlocking your fingers together. Daemon gives his most charming grin to his brother, before pulling you into him. You go willingly, body lax and pliant for him. “A kiss, perhaps?”
“Please.” You turn to look at him, hoping to move him. This close, once again, you feel slightly distracted. Your husband smells so nice, and his hands feel so good around your waist, it’s no hardship at all. You press a kiss to his cheek.
“Must you always arrive with such a ruckus?” Viserys frowns. Daemon gives him a small smile.
“You know me.” Slowly, he starts to lead you towards the Red Keep, a hand placed protectively on your lower back. The message is clear. Daemon wants you to make your dragon follow you. You don’t even need to order it because your baby, smart as it is, is already following. The dragon keepers step back, muttering unhappily.
“Is it going inside?” Viserys point at your dragon. Foolishly, you had been hoping he didn’t notice, and so, your stomach drops. But Daemon doesn’t falter, strolling confidently inside as if he owned the place.
“He will behave. As long as no one touches her.” Normally, you despise when people talk about you as if you are not there. Currently, though, you can only feel relief that your dragon is not getting sent to sleep outside in the cold. He is just too little for it.
Viserys walks you towards his private dining room. A blonde child runs around, playing. The Princess and Ser Laenor are already there. And Alicent is even more heavily pregnant than before.
“How have you been?” You ask Alicent, sitting next to her. You half expect to be left out of the conversation as you were a few months before, and so, choose to sit next to someone who has been kind to you. The baby dragon hops on your lap when you take your seat.
Alicent looks absolutely horrified.
“Good enough.” She speaks, blinking slowly. It’s clear she cannot believe her eyes. She stares at the dragon in a mix of awe and fear.
“He is harmless.” You explain, petting it as if it were a small dog and not a baby dragon. “Do you want to pet him?”
Alicent reaches forward with a trembling hand. The dragon sniffs her, and curls to sleep again.
“… And I was thinking of changing the layout of the hall, to make sure he fits…” You hear Daemon complain, and your ears immediately perk up. Is he talking about your baby?
“So you keep it inside?” Viserys asks, sounding disbelieving.
“I have never seen such a close bond.” Daemon boasts. He sounds as if he is proud of you, you realize. It makes something warm flutter in your stomach. No longer are you the wife he never wanted and tried to get rid of. “Damn thing sleeps on the bed with us. It’s better trained than a dog, seriously. We should have given Celtigars dragons a long time away.”
“Why not leave it outside?” From where you are seated, you can’t see his face, but you imagine by his tone, Viserys is smiling.
“She will riot. She loves him as her own son.” Daemon explains. You keep your eyes trained on the nervous Alicent, who has managed to lay her hand on top of your dragon’s head. She looks about to bolt.
“Isn’t he the nicest thing?” You say to Alicent, excited. “He thinks I am his mom, or something. Isn’t it great?”
Alicent does not look as impressed as you hoped for, but she gives you a kind smile. She seems willing to tolerate your eccentricities if for the sake of not having to make conversation with Rhaenyra.
“Very nice.” She compliments. “Pretty colors. Prince Daemon was very kind, giving it to you.”
“He is.” You smile, softly. “Although he complains all the time.”
Alicent shrugs. This time, both of you tune in the conversation between Daemon and Viserys.
“Perhaps, as you build him something outside, you can distract her with an actual baby.” Viserys says. Alicent looks torn at the comment, and you can’t help but feel slightly embarrassed by the topic.
It’s not something you had thought about before. Well, you had. Never with him, though. As a girl, you dreamed of being a mother, and as a woman, Daemon and you had discussed the issue of heirs already. You had spoken about it during your last goodbye feast, in this same castle. But those words had been spoken in the height of passion, and neither of you had done anything about it.
“Trust me. Next time she holds a babe, it will be a proper human one.” Daemon says, and his hand finds yours over the table. You look up at him, meeting his purple eyes. He looks hungry. Starved, even.
You lower your eyes demurely. Viserys laughs. And Daemon, greedy as he is, lifts your hand to his mouth and presses a soft kiss to your knuckles.
Sloth /sləʊθ/
the bad habit of being lazy and unwilling to work.
The light filters in through the open curtains, giving the room a soft glow. Daemon’s face scrunches up, bothered by the sunlight in his eyes. He has tried to convince you to sleep with them drawn, but you are unwilling. To you, the best way to wake up is slowly, with the sun. Or so you say. He is not very convinced.
Daemon stretches. You reach for him in your sleep. He gives himself a moment to savor it, the fact that he can finally pull you closer. The dragon is finally gone from his bed, although he is no way near distracting you with a babe.
Dragons are not pets. Daemon had been taught that since the cradle, even before he had a dragon of his own. Their control over them was only an illusion, and so, they should be trusted but feared. He had lived by that rule, never once questioning it. Until you.
Watching you raise yours as if it were your own child had proven interesting. You lacked his education about them, but you made up for it by sheer enthusiasm. The fact that your dragon had not bitten your hand off yet or burned you to a crisp could only mean two things: You were some sort of forest nymph, or they were mistaken about their approach to dragons. He knew which one he thought was true.
How much was nature, and how much was nurture in their relationship with dragons? Trying to answer that question would occupy his entire lifetime. Daemon hoped that watching you gave him some insight. Even if he ended up discovering you were a nymph in disguise or some sort of goddess of the hunt. He wouldn’t regret it, fascinating as you were.
No matter how much food for thought you gave him, Daemon had been enjoying the joys of marriage. Perhaps, a little too much. Seeing you with the baby dragon had awoken some unexpected feelings. Targaryens were dragons, after all. When the time came, you would make a good mother. Not only were your instincts well-developed, but you seemed to thrive on having something to nurture.
Ah, the joys of domesticity. Daemon loves that you trust him enough now to allow him to witness you at your most fragile. Asleep and wearing a soft white night shift, you are deliciously innocent. Giving, too. You do not complain when his hands find your hips or when he pulls you flush against him. Nor do you move away when his face hides in your lovely locks, mussed with sleep.
Your expression is open and vulnerable in ways you are never when truly awake. Your eyes open just the tiniest sliver, before you hide your face on your pillow, rubbing against it like the sweetest kitten.
He adores you like this. Worships you, even. Obsessed with the curve of your hip, or the soft flesh above your womb. Daemon can’t help but rub it, hoping to manifest a child into existence without actually fucking you.
If he believed in such a thing, as so many fools in this realm did, Daemon would say this was the Seven Heavens. But he knew the truth. Just like you, who worshiped the Old Gods of Valyria, Daemon did too. How could he not when he had a tiny goddess sharing his bed?
Your nose scrunches up. You twitch. Worshiping a little nymph, now that was hard work. Especially when the nymph in question does her best to escape his personal worshiping time.
If Daemon could spend all day in bed, just like this, he would. He would trace your features with his mouth, peppering your face with soft kisses. He would feast on the soft curve of your neck, drink up all your sweet little noises. Trace a path down your soft limbs, draw nonsensical patterns on your stomach. But you are an energetic little thing, always jumping out of bed, no matter the pleasure he tempts you with.
Convincing you to stay is hard, but Daemon likes to think it’s an art he has perfected. It’s not a ritual, by any means. Each morning goes differently. Sometimes, you need to be kissed silly. Sometimes, you need to be gently worshiped and coaxed back to sleep. But his favorite mornings are the ones that go like this.
“I have to go check on the tenants, down by the shore. The rain season just started.” You complain, as he noses along your hairline. Suddenly, Daemon’s arms are empty. He opens his eyes to find you sitting up and pulling your robe over your night shift.
You look delectable in red. He should buy you more robes like that one. Especially because he is about to ruin it.
“Did you say at what hour you are going?” Daemon sits up as well, toying with the edge of your robe. You bat his hands away, playfully.
“No.” You are hurriedly standing up, perhaps knowing what comes next. Daemon grabs your robe, and pulls you back in, using all his strength.
No matter how much you try to keep your feet planted on the floor, you end up tumbling back into bed. You give a girlish shriek, a smile already forming on your face. You struggle, kicking the blankets off the bed.
“Come back here, you little minx.” He tugs you by the ankle, making you laugh. Your hair is sticking up in all directions and your chest heaves up and down with the exertion of putting up a fight.
Daemon secretly loves it. He would never tell you because you would be outraged, but he enjoys the idea of overpowering you. Perhaps, once you fully trust him, he could ask you to play like that. But for now, he takes what he can get.
“Or else what Lord husband?” You tease, still trying to escape him. More blankets and furs are sent flying off the bed. You give a mean little tug to his hair.
“That was it!” Daemon complains, and starts tickling you. The night shift rides tantalizingly up your hips, giving him an unintentional show. He feels his blood warming, arousal turning into a dull throb in his loins. Your legs kick wildly, you squirm on the bed, and your eyes fill with tears from laughing so much.
It’s only when your poor body can’t take it anymore, and you are crying from laughter that he stops. He thinks of how it would feel, to overwhelm you in a different context, make your body take and take until tears ran freely down your temples. A different sort of crown for his forest nymph, one made from her own silver tears. The visual is too much for him to take without giving himself away.
Daemon lies on top of you, smothering you with his weight. He licks a few stray drops of sweat from your neck, making you flay once again. There will be a day when play wrestling will turn into something much less sweet. That day, though, it’s not today.
“Get off!” You complain. “That’s disgusting.”
“I could eat you up.” He teases, nuzzling into your neck. It's the truth. Daemon loves the taste of your skin and your smell. If he thought he could get away with it, he would crawl between your thighs and feast on you. “You are delicious, wife.”
“Daemon.” You push lightly at him, trying to get up. Again. But your words lack their previous conviction. Daemon can tell he is getting to you. “It’s getting late.”
“The tenants can wait. Let us hide from the world a little longer.” He pleads, clinging to you. Under him, exhausted after the play wrestling, you go limp. He knows he has won then.
You spend the whole day in bed. The tenants end up being visited closer to sundown. Daemon does not regret it one bit.
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ireneispunk · 18 days
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how they hold you x HoTD men
i saw these photosets and could NOT refuse! so here are the HoTD men and how (i imagine) they would hold you included: aemond, daemon, jacaerys, aegon, criston cole, harwin strong
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
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489 notes · View notes
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The Salt In My Blood
You were the beloved Jewel of the Realm, the youngest Targaryen born to Alyssa and Baelon. Though your nature resembled more a lamb rather than a dragon, you posed a threat at court, for a single word out of your mouth inspired a thousand actions from The King and The Rogue Prince. Thus, your match with the Lord of the Iron Islands.
Daemon Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader x Dalton Greyjoy | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, targcest (sister!reader), reader has valyrian features (silver hair, violet eyes), power imbalance, graphic depictions of violence/assault/murder/death, canon divergence/inaccurate timelines, ye old misogyny, fuckedupedness of men, smut (dub con, loss of virginity, piv, biting, marking, breeding kink, corruption kink, baby trapping, cockwarming, cunnilingus), internet translated high valyrian, angst, social commentary, typos, etc.
A/N: !!mind the warnings!! This is really yucky because it is. all men do is hurt women. Also I did basic research for Dalton Greyjoy and just used him cuz I needed a character. idk what he's actually like and I'm 99% sure this timeline doesn't add up so, just roll w it ok? Ok. If my internet translated high valyrian sucks, well, it be like that. And surprise surprise i made another song for a fic because i should make use of my music degree while im jobless 💔 my heart goes out to @arabellasleopardcoat because her fic capital really poked my brain and got me fired up enough to write/create again, even if just for this fic. i love you.
Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @delicious-xx @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony @risefallrise @thebullship @sa3losa @sloanexx @azperja @happilyhertale
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Father, father, shining star, save my brother from the war. Mother, mother, hold me close. I fear brother won't come home. So, I pray, night and day, I do my duty here. Find me, oh [a] husband, so fierce with not a fear. Father, father hears my prayer. Mother, mother dries my tears. All my strife ends tonight for my husband's here.
"But what if someone sees," you whisper.
Daemon clutches your hand tighter as you hurry down the hall. He looks over to you, your expression matches your shaky voice.
Perhaps, had the conditions been different, he'd be softened by your words. The ferocity of his protectiveness would have made him stop in his footsteps and clutch your cheek. Perhaps he would have promised to safeguard you.
But these conditions did not elicit such urges from him. No. It stoked the fires bacchanal in his gut. The stolen taste of your honeyed lips in the garden was not enough.
Daemon finally brings his darling sister into his bedroom, and there, he answers you, "who would dare spy on the king's heir, the prince of the realm?"
Your breath quickens at the sound of your brother locking the door.
The prince of the realm stalks over to you, a dragon gazing upon a meek lamb.
Again, you whisper, "what if someone finds out?"
Daemon could growl. He almost did as he grabs your waist and sinks his head into the crook of your tender neck. You don't even react when he does this, save for your gasp.
Oh, how like you, how docile and doe-like, never one to raise your voice, or fight back, especially not with him.
"Let them find out, sister," he claws your clothing, "then they will not steal you from me."
You are so pliant as he squeezes you, so soft as he roughs you back to his bed. You let him handle you like he did your dolls growing up. He treated them with less than a quarter of the gentleness you would,; they'd end up tattered and broken because of him by the end of your playing session, much to your heartbreak.
Though you cried about it, you never once held it against him, because each time, Daemon would wipe your tears and apologize. He liked breaking your dolls. He liked being your comfort.
He knew without a sliver of doubt you'd let him do the same to your body. You'd let him break you, then kiss the tears off your cheeks. You'd let him, for he was your star, and you were his doll.
Daemon presses you beneath him. He lays you down where he sleeps. He kisses you, the way he has sometimes imagined he would while touching himself, or while in the arms of another. His long, silver hair falls cascades down his shoulder, joining your long, silver hair that's spilled on his pillows.
For so long, he's denied himself of you, because you were too pure, too darling to be tainted.
You whimper as he pushes your skirts up, bunching them by your ribs.
But now, it's all different.
His mouth suckles his way to your neck.
"Daemon."
Now, it's not about denial. It's about what's right. It's about what you deserve.
"Daemon-" you whimper when he reaches into the waistband of your smallclothes, "-wait."
He breathes hotly against your jaw. His hands grab your knees and parts them for himseld
You push his shoulders back, catching his attention. He is displeased, and not even your glassy eyes could quell it. He warns you with an annoyed sound.
You gulp but mutter anyway, "this is wrong."
"Wrong?!" snaps he.
You tense at his anger, yet even then, you caress his cheek gently, "I am to be married to Lord Dalton Greyjoy."
"And you would have me believe you want him?" Daemon quips, "that you do not want me?"
You push yourself up on your elbows. Tears begin to spill down the corner of your eyes, "Daem-"
"Why do you think I am doing this?" He pushes himself against your core.
You whimper at the contact. He is hard.
He grabs your wrists and pins them to your sides, "I do this for your sake, little girl. To save you from your prison."
You gulp and blink rapidly, your silver lashes lace with tears.
The slightest semblance of remorse flashes on your brother's face.
With your head lifted, you watch as Daemon brings his hands to your ankles instead. He rids you of your shoes and chucks them over his shoulder.
Slowly, he strips you naked until you are left in nothing but the jewelry and the stockings he bought you one before.
You cover your breasts, and he lets you while he kneads at your slightly parted thighs.
His eyes are glued on your womanhood, on the curls that don't see the light of day and the flesh that's never been touched by a man.
Daemon clenches his jaw as his fingers inspect the heat there. The two digits find molten wetness flooding your entrance. You make a breathless sound and squeeze your thighs, trying, with pointless effort, to stop him. His eyes flick to your face, the look of embarrassment, of shock, of pleasure visible to him. He debates forcing your legs.
He licks his you-coated fingers and tuts instead, "open."
You look at him, your Daemon, with the faint line between his brows. You close your mouth and lick your lips. Your hands find their way back to your breasts.
The sight is maddening, especially with how the jewel of your necklace looks between the squished mount of flesh.
"Open," he commands with less patience.
Daemon watches his darling princess part her legs for him. His trousers strain more than it did already.
He watches you closely and motions with a finger, "those too."
You do not immediately comply. In fact, you look at Daemon with pleading eyes. He raises his brows at your bratty demeanor, and shakes his head, "are you disobeying me?"
You see the threat in his eyes.
"Kessa nyke mazverdagon ao rūnagon aōha dīnagon?" Shall I make you remember your place?
You shake your head and pipe softly, "daor." No.
Finally, you reveal your breasts to him.
He smirks, "good girl."
Your brother kneads your delicate flesh and grinds his clothed groin against your weeping cunt. The sound you emit makes the feel of the clothes on his skin unbearable.
His grabs your hands and places them on his waistband. He looks down at you as he rids himself of his top. By the time his burning chest is free, you've gotten half the wits to undo his breeches.
His eyes don't leave you as he takes off his shoes.
You timidly pull his pants down, sitting up slightly as you do. You make a soft sound when his manhood flings free. Daemon shoves you back and does the rest himself.
"Daemon. I don't think-"
Your voice is crushed by the feel of his cock sliding into you. A rush of heat ripples through your body. He leans down and kisses your shoulder as you whine.
"Enough," he pants. He uses all his restraint not to fuck you dumb then and there. He grabs your thighs, pressing them into your chest. He can feel your tension. If he fucks you now, he could leave you unable to walk straight. But as sweet as that sounds, he doesn't actually want to hurt you, not that way.
Daemon sinks down to your jugular and kisses you there before he brings his hungry mouth to your breast. He sucks and nips, imagining it being heavy with milk for his babe, the babe he'd put into your belly.
The thought makes his moan and rut his hips.
You make a strained sound and your hands to push his arms. You call his name again, soft and shaky.
Daemon tries to ignore you, his hand coming to your lonely breast on the other side, but the persistent call of his name makes his sigh.
He lightly grazes your nipple before he releases your flesh. He trails kisses up your skin until he lands on your face, your face, which was now wet with salt.
"You need to relax. Mmm?" he coos, kissing your lips, "skoro syt gaomagon ao limagon? Hm?" Why do you cry?
You adjust beneath him, repositioning your thighs, digging your fingers into his nape. You whimper, "lēkia."
Daemon's belly burns. Look at you, crying for your older brother.
"Kessa, ñuha hāedar?" Yes, my little sister?
"Iksan zūgagon," you mutter, tears streaming down your temples. Your nails scratch up his scalp. I am afraid.
Daemon, selfish as he is, does not like the fact that leaves your lips. His brows furrow. He rubs your thighs in an attempt to comfort you. He kisses the corner of your lips, "hen lēkia?" Of your older brother?
You shake your head quickly, rubbing your thumb on his jaw.
His brows furrow tighter. His hold on your thigh tightens, "hen bona Āegenka Āzma?" Of that Iron Born?
You stay still. You take a moment before mumbling, "Viserys said I should marry him for my own good-"
"Fuck that cunt Viserys," he spits angrily.
Your lips quiver.
The anger in Daemon's chest dissipates as you rub the deep line between his brows. He props himself up, sinking a hand by the side of your head. He looks down at you.
"You cannot protect me forever," you whisper, finally relaxing beneath him.
Daemon watches as you lick your lips.
You gulp, "I am a Targaryen princess. I have duties to the realm, to my family."
"Your duty is with me," he grabs your hand, bringing it to his chest.
Your violet eyes sparkle as you examine his features. You tuck the long tresses that block his face behind his ear. Your belly ignites at the fierce beauty of your beloved brother.
"I burn for you," Daemon says, "I know that you burn for me."
"But Daemon-"
The gentle thrust of his hips stifle your words.
"Enough," Daemon repeats this time softer, head sinking back into the crook of your neck, "you have always belonged to me, and you know it."
You whimper and instinctively mold your body against him. Your legs tighten around his torso as his thrusts grow more and more confident.
Daemon kisses you, delighting in the gasp you give when he plays with your pearl. He muffling the sound of your mewls with his mouth.
"They insult us all by daring to mix dragon blood with fucking sea squid," he pants, "you were meant to carry my seed, be my bride."
You moan, feeling a foreign force in your belly.
"I will not let that sewer monster be the one to make you a woman," Daemon licks a stripe up your neck.
You tangle your fingers into the roots of his hair, "Daemon."
His nails scratch up your sides, "twas I that watched you blossom into womanhood, tis I that should be the one to take it."
Neither of you speak after he says this. You both simply whimper, wordlessly agreeing your bodies were made for each other.
The prince had not a single care in the world. He urges you to scream out to him with the flick of his pelvis. He didn't care if anyone could hear, neither did he care that anyone would see the viscious marks he was leaving all over your throat.
You were better than he had ever imagined, and he was determined to make you his. He was intent on emptying his balls in you, over and over again, until you could take no more, until you were too exhausted to leave, until your body had no other choice but to carry him a child.
And when he finally does spill into you, coming with a grunt and a soft, "you're mine," you, the virgin princess finally understand the fuss over sex, and reply to him with an, "I love you."
Daemon fucks you until his bed is soiled with a mix of your come. He fucks you until every minute movement from him makes you shiver and whine. He fucks you until your skin is marked with tender bites. He fucks you until you beg for respite, and then he keeps himself inside you after.
You were a worn little thing, and yet you managed to have the energy to still cling to him as you dozed off.
He kisses your temple and sleeps soundly, knowing he's done it; he's made you his. That was irrefutable. Only a madman would deny him of you now. He basks in the pleasure of your body, and in the knowledge his baby sister so wholeheartedly trusted in him to let him do this.
One can only imagine, then, the mortified horror you felt when you were given to Lord Greyjoy anyway.
This was not part of the plan. You were meant to meet Daemon. He told you you were going to speak to the king together, and yet here your eldest brother was, ushering you towards your captor-husband to be.
"My princess," Dalton says, reaching a hand to you.
You stare at his glimmering eyes, finding nothing but malice and lust behind them. You turn to your brother for help. You do not want to touch this man.
Viserys offers you none and looks away. It hurts when he does so, especially since he does so with such apparently scorn. He smiles at the man, "greet your lord. You will soon be wed to him, sister."
You muster enough artificial interest to smile and take the man's hand. Goosebumps form on your skin when he kisses the back of your hand.
He notices and chuckles, rubbing where he kissed, "such demureness. Do not be frightened of me, my dragon. I would not hurt such a pretty thing."
You clasp your hands together after he releases you.
"Not unless you ask," he adds, bursting into a laugh.
Neither you or Viserys return the amusement. In fact, the latter's face contorts at the distasteful joke. His nostrils flare, "you dare jest such uncouth things in front of your king?"
Dalton Greyjoy is unbothered, but stifles his laughter. He clears his throat and bows, "my apologies, my king. Tis the Ironborn in me. I cannot help my nature, much like you cannot help yours."
You feel light headed the entirety of this interaction. The room feels like it was closing in on you, and you kept glancing at the door, praying that your other brother free you from this torment.
He does not do so. He does not come. In fact, you do not see Daemon anywhere the entire day.
Dalton keeps you by his side, taking your arm in his as he makes you stroll him around the Red Keep. You do so, of course, no matter how strong the urge to run away and hide from him was. The entire time, Dalton recounts his stories of battle, his stories at sea, his stories of life. He's sincere enough, but you are not interested in the slightest.
"I think you'd enjoy the feel of sea salt against your skin, just as much you enjoy the whip of the clouds," he grins with genuine enthusiasm.
Any response you have is put out by his next words.
"I can introduce you to my salt-wives."
"Salt-wives?"
"Aye," he says proudly, "I'd say I have about twenty, but I cannot assure you its accuracy."
You are horrified. Finally, you have the gall to pull away, "what?"
Dalton chuckles, somehow amused, but his brows furrow, as if irritated, "we Ironborn keep salt wives in our ships, to give us comfort and warmth when the sea gets too rough. Is this princess so sheltered to not know this?"
You curdle when he reaches for your neck.
"You needn't be jealous. You'd be my one and only rock wife."
You scowl at his condescending tone, "I thought that was just a wives' tale."
He laughs. It is rich, amused, and foreboding. He shakes his head, "it's about as much of a wives' tale as your dragons are, princess."
Later that night, you weep at the king's feet, begging him not to marry you off to such a man.
Viserys does not hear it, and it is only then that Daemon finally appears.
When he does, it's as if the gods themselves breathed life into you. Quickly, you run into him and sob into his chest.
Daemon holds you tightly and glares at the king, "what have you done to her?"
Viserys scoffs. The dark room, illuminated only by the fireplace and a few lit candles, feels to him like it's darkened because of Daemon. He shifts where he sits, "I? I found her a husband."
Daemon's eye twitches, "you gave her to me! You said it just this morning."
You look up at Daemon, hopeful at the sound of his words.
"I said I would think about it once you report your patrol at the City Watch to me."
Daemon releases you to impose on his brother, "I kept your city clean from crimes and safe for the people."
"And where did you go after?" Viserys narrows his eyes.
You rub your arms as you watch your brothers argue.
Daemon does not respond.
Viserys turns to you, "tell your beloved sister where you went after your patrols."
Daemon does not move.
Your chest tightens at the silence, "... Daemon."
The said man opens his mouth, "I went to get a dri-"
"A whorehouse!" Viserys blurts, rising from his seat to glare at Daemon. He turns back to you, pushing past him, "I would know. I paid every whore in Fleabottom to seduce him."
Your heart leaps into your mouth, "w-what?"
Daemon is stunned.
"See now," Viserys is close enough to clutch your cheeks, "your beloved brother is a man like all the rest. No more is the dragon righteous than the kraken."
Your eyes begin to fog with tears. Your hands begin to tremble. Why was he doing this to you?
"Greyjoy is no less a dog than the rest of us. He at least, is honoring a tradition. Daemon honors only his cock."
You turn to Daemon, hoping to find this was not the case, but his expression says it all. Youlet a pained whimper, "you teach me so cruelly, brother."
"I teach you," he swipes your tears with his thumbs, "for your own good."
"You fucking--"
You scream in terror as Daemon lunges at Viserys. You reel back and watch as the two crash down to the floor, the younger of the two finding the upper hand. They roughly struggle against each other.
It only takes another scream from you, begging them to stop, for the kingsguards to burst into the room.
You can no longer stay screaming when Daemon grabs Viserys by the collar and slams him repeatedly against the ground, especially not when Viserys claws at Daemon's face to get him off. You dash forward just as the guards order the prince to stop.
You grab Daemon's arm, and out of instinct, he swats you back, hand hitting your nose with rage powered force.
You shoot back into a kingsguard, feeling your face throb in pain.
It takes Viserys screaming your name for Daemon to stop.
The impact of hitting the armored man makes your back twinge, but it does not hurt nearly as much as the back handed hit you received from your brother.
The kingsguard catches you and stands you upright. He quickly asks if you are alright, but doesn't wait for an answer because he then shoves Daemon back, putting himself between him and you when he tries to come near.
Daemon glares in offence.
"Throw him in the fucking dungeon," Viserys spits out as he is helped up by another guard.
Daemon fights back, but is no match against three guards.
He screams your name as he is dragged off.
You clutch your face as he tells you he didn't mean to hit you. You face throbs as he tells you he loves you, and only you.
For once, you doubt his words.
Viserys comes to your side, placing a gentle hand in your shoulder. You watch as he commands a servant to get something for your hit.
He clutches your cheek that was struck and sighs, "if you wed the Red Kraken, you will strengthen our hold on the Iron Lands. Dalton Greyjoy is a formidable warrior. I couldn't think of a more capable man to safekeep the Jewel of the Realm."
As he stroked your hair, you realized that Viserys was right. It didn't matter who it was, all men were the same. When your septa warned you of men's depravity, you believed your brothers to be the exception. Now, you knew exactly why you were called-
"Little lamb," Viserys coos, "I only want what is best for all of us."
You were too naive to believe in good things.
And so you marry Dalton Greyjoy the next day.
The haste with which the wedding is prepared is to prevent you from changing your mind, you figured. That, and to keep Daemon in prison for the least amount of time.
Part of you wanted to visit him, but part of you wanted him to suffer. In the end, you realized you were too weak to behold your brother as a prisoner.
Daemon screams and bangs at his bars, demanding he be released. But the prison guards have handled worse and throw cold water at him to shut him up.
He knew by the time he was free, he would be too late to stop your marriage, but still, he meticulously planned what he would do the moment he was.
That night, after the wedding festivities were over, Dalton takes you to your room and makes you his wife.
"It's been a while since I've had a virgin," Dalton says, caressing your cheek, "don't worry, I will be gentle."
You want to scream, you want tofight him back, but you remember you're not a virgin, and fear paralyzes you. You mumble, "m-my dragon riding."
Dalton pushes back bour silver hair and kisses your shoulder.
You can't help but think of Daemon in this moment, but it makes you feel sick, and so you will him out of your head. You mumble again, "my dragon riding may taken my womanhood."
Dalton pulls away and stares at you for a moment.
"I- I was told as a child, it happened to many Targaryen princesses."
He pulls his hands, which were on your hips, away then shoves you down on your bed. He smirks as he undoes his clothing, "then I can be rough with you, aye?"
You quiver at his gaze.
He laughs, shaking his head, "didn't I say I would not hurt you? Unless under your request?"
You push inch back as he crawls over. He grabs your ankle, then the other, causing you to panic. You instinctively kick him off, but instead of being deterred, he is excited.
"Sh, sh, sh," he hushes, "it will not be unpleasant, my dragon."
Your skin pricks with gooseflesh when he removes your shoes, your socks, and sneaks his hand up your skirt.
You whimper and turn away, finding you could no longer kick back when he seizes your knees.
"Please-"
"Shhh," he hushes, giving you the first solemn look he has this entire day he's been smug, "I've had much practice from my salt wives. You, my rock wife, will taste the fruits of my practice... as I taste you."
You gasp when he suddenly rips your underwear off.
" I swear to you, your body will enjoy it, even if your mind wants you to believe otherwise."
You muffle your mouth with your palm when you feel Dalton sink in between your thighs.
He was right.
The entire time he touches you, it feels like your skin was being scorched. Your heart was not in it, but your body twisted in pleasure. You hated that you longed for Daemon, even after the fact you were not enough for him; he was still the only one you still, and this moment proved it.
You were brought to tears at how pathetic it was. Tears streamed as you reached your peak, one of the many you receive from your... husband.
He handled you with carnal instinct, just as Daemon did, but unlike him, Dalton did not kiss your tears. In fact, he did not kiss your face once. It is you that initiates such a thing, amidst the throes of your lewd pleasure. He grabs your jaw when your lips connect, and quickly releases his load into you after.
Your peak is cut short because he pulls out just when you reach it.
You watch as he rolls over and goes to sleep without another word.
The next morning, the servants call you Princess Greyjoy and it haunts you.
"No need to look so sullen, wife," you hear over your shoulder.
If the cold from the early morning wasn't enough to make you shiver, the kiss on your shoulder was.
The ship rocks as you tear your gaze away from King's Landing, King's Landing that looked so tiny now from where you stood. A sea of tears laid between you and the home that will never be yours again. You turn to Dalton. He leans his elbows on the edge of the ship and looks up at you, "we can do many things to liven your mood."
You watch him as he rubs your hips. Your stomach curdles but you manage to offer a smile, "I... am flattered, but I do not want to distract the captain of this ship."
Dalton chuckles and straightens up, "trust me. The crew would appreciate it if you did."
You squeak when he yanks you into him.
"Right boys?!" he calls loudly, "shall I make a salt wife out of my rock wife?!"
The crew cheers and it makes your skin burn in mortification.
The next thing you know, you are thrown over his shoulder. He slaps your ass and takes you to his quarters. The crew laughs as he does.
You helplessly grunt when he drops you on his bed-- your shared bed. You silently peer up at him as he stares at you. You are releived he paces across the room, towards his table. He grabs something and chucks it at you. You flinch but manage to catch it.
He sits on the table as you inspect the pouch. You open it, finding herbs inside.
"I heard you've been drinking that," he says.
You look up at him.
"Haven't you?" he asks.
You smell it and wretch. It smells exactly like-
"Moon tea," Dalton says, making your blood run cold, "for the bastard in your belly.*
You are frozen in your spot. Your stomach drops when he stands and walks over. He grabs your chin. It is not harsh, but it strikes fear in you anyway.
"I asked you a question, wife."
You open your mouth, but no words come out.
"HAVE YOU BEEN TAKING THE FUCKING TEA OR NOT?" he screams, grabbing your neck.
Your hands fly to his grip. Your fingers attempt to pry him away.
You wheeze when he squeezes you. Your flail your legs and try to kick him off. You can't. Just as your vision begins to go dark, he releases you. You fall onto the bed and frantically try to catch your breath. You cough and hear him smash things around the room.
As so you behold the man who said he would not hurt you unless you asked him, brutalize the furniture.
You think your chances are better in the sea rather than on this boat. You slowly maneuver towards the door while he is distracted. Just as you are about to sprint, he grabs you and throws you back down on his bed.
"You stupid slut!" he screams, "you think you can run?!
You try to scream for help, but the pain in your throat when you try to stops you. Not a second later, you scream anyway.
He slaps you across the face, promptly silencing you. The sting is ten times worse than what Daemon did.
"I was promised a Targaryen princess, not some whore of a dragon!" he screams, kicking the chair by his desk across the room. He laughs angrily, shaking his head, "dragon riding, my arse."
Your heart drops as he storms over, "who's the father of your bastard child?!"
Indistinguishable sounds leave your lips.
"ANSWER ME!" he demands, grabbing your shoulders, dragging you to your feet. Your head recoils at the sheer force of it. You take a moment to steady your head.
Your eyes search Dalton's enraged features, hoping to chance upon a sliver of compassion... in vain. The sound that leaves your mouth is response to the bruising squeeze of your arms. You cannot help but whimper as tears stream down your cheeks, "you're hurting me."
He is further angered by this. He gives you a powerful shake. Your head lashes back again and you scream.
"Give me a name!" erupts the lord.
You no longer have it in you to hold your tongue, and so you confess, "Daemon!"
Dalton releases you. He is repulsed, "your brother?" He scoffs, "you revolting, little worm," he slaps you across the face, making you lose your balance.
Before you crash into anything, he grabs you again and keeps you upright. You can feel your cheek and lips swell at his assault.
"And here they had me believing you were some meek lamb," he laughs dryly, brushing your hair back, "you're nothing but a whore, grown from perversion and abomination."
Your expression hardens. You glare at him and rebut, though your head was pounding, "and your sea rituals are more righteous than my family traditions?"
Without another word, Dalton shoves you back, propelling you into his desk. Your skull crashes against the edge with a horrendous thud.
You fall limp onto the floor. Dalton cares little if you were dead or unconscious. He walks out of the room right before he can witness the red staining your white hair.
Dalton is no fool. He knows better than to disfigure a Targaryen princess.
He walks towards the wheel of the ship and continues the course to what his crew believed to be a shortcut to home. In truth, he was bringing the ship to its doom, to face you with with a trail of the sea.
He would crash the ship into a chokehold of rocks, and if you survived, if he found your floating body, he would keep you, as you proved your resilience. But if you were swallowed into the depths, if he was unable to find you in the debris, he would praise the Drowned god for your riddance.
The same want with his crew.
Of course, there was a bit of this that felt like suicide, but he knew he was too vengeful to die, so he knew he had nothing to fear.
When the Greyjoy ship finally reached the rocky pass, Dalton was promptly warned of the danger by his lookout, who he obviously ignored.
He ordered to hoist the sails, and, blindly, the crew followed, even through apparent worry.
It didn't take very long after for the ship to crash into the cliffs.
The crew clamors. They scream and panic, turning to their captain that could not care less. He pretends to steer them to safety, but he actually slammed them further into their demise.
The deck begins to crumble. The mast snaps. The sails break off. Dalton calls to abandon ship.
The crew don't need any more convincing.
One by one, each man for their own, they try to escape with their life.
By the time Dalton jumps off the ship, the thing is half submerged in the water, crumbs of it on the side of a rock.
It was pure chaos.
Dalton swims far enough from the destruction, and knows the gods smiled upon him and his decision when he sees a large wooden slab he can climb on.
He does just that and looks out to his crew, helping the ones that manage to swim over, commanding the others calling for help to simply swim or drown.
He looks around, trying to make out a body of a woman, a blob of a dress, a head of silver hair in the aftermath.
"My wife," he screams, "has anyone seen my wife?!"
He wasn't concerned, of course. He just wanted to know his fate as a husband, but this did make for a good alibi.
His surviving men look and swim around for you. They find no trance.
Dalton presses his lips, "little dragon couldn't fly away."
They take refuge in a cliff. Lord Greyjoy tells his crew not to bitch and panic because they will surely be found by a passing ship soon enough.
He had planned this shipwreck after all.
By the time Dalton and his remaining men were saved, a flash of red circled in the setting sky, hovering over the massive rock that held the shipwreck that bore the sigil of Greyjoy.
Caraxes screeches as his rider commands him to get closer to the scene. The dragon hesitates but eventually lands on the cliff. Waves crash upon the area, causing the beast to bleat when he is wet.
Daemon is frantic as he gazes upon the destruction. He is distressed unlike he's ever been. His voice is distinctly desperate and hysterical. He screams out your name, even though it was nothing against the roar of the splashing waves.
He heaves heavily as he erratically decides to dismount and jump into the water.
As he wades, he tries to convince himself that what he was doing was for naught. Perhaps you were not here to begin with. But the gut feeling was overwhelming; it was sickening.
He tries to believe that bottom feeder, Greyjoy, saved you before his ship crumbled. He tries to convince himself that cunt's lust for you was enough reason to keep you alive.
But he remembers the servant he threatened with a knife whilst demanding to know which route your ship would take. He thinks of how he almost shit himself while confesssing to Daemon that Greyjoy planned to pass through a rocky region as a shortcut. But Daemon's flown over that area, and knew it was out of the way to the Iron Islands.
After squeezing out what's left from that servant, Daemon's face falls when he mentions that rusted octopus had an argument with a servant girl that came to serve the princess a cup of tea.
Daemon was no fool. Dalton was a butish barbarian. If he found out you were drinking Moon Tea, he would do his worst on you for blemishing his pride.
And so he swam. Daemon swam, dove down, and searched for your body until he had to stop because Caraxes was getting restless. He commanded him to calm down, but he could only do it so many times until he, himself, was the same.
He eventually gets back on Caraxes. Daemon can't bring himself to leave just yet however, and finds himself praying to whatever god out there to return his love back to him.
Caraxes circles the area one last time before heading off. For some reason, Daemon feels the urge to check underneath a large slab of shattered wood. He commands his mount to lift it, and the dragon screeches as he does what he can with his hind legs.
The sound that leaves the prince's mouth is what could be described as pure anguish.
A head of silver hair floats up and wafts in the water along with a tattered dress. Your body garnered a horrid tone of grey and you were missing your shoes.
Daemon cannot contain the tears that gush out of his eyes.
Caraxes carries your body in his claws all the way to the Keep.
The way in which he commands his ride to set your body down is frantic and incredibly detailed. Part of him realizes Caraxes probably recognized you, considering the way he laid on his belly and sniffed you as Daemon buckled to his knees and lamented over your stiff and frigid body.
He speaks to you in High Valyrian. His salty tears drip on your salt water drowned body. He promises he will never trick you, never argue with you, and never make you cry ever again if only you open your violet eyes.
He rocks back and forth with you in his arms, unsure which of you he was soothing by doing this.
He swears he will turn the sea red with blood and burn the whole Iron Islands to avenge you.
He is incredibly uncomfortable of the chill of your skin. He shakes his head, telling you dragons must not be kept cold. He kisses your face in an attempt to warm it up. He recounts a time where you accidentally spilled candle wax on him, burning his skin, and tells you that you still need to make up for your offence. He tells you he will forgive you if you simply hold him back.
Viserys had to account for three dragons by the time he found out what was happening, one was Daemon, whose grief morphed into murderous spite. He threatened to slay anyone who wanted to take you from him. Not again. Another was Caraxes, who refused to leave his heartbroken rider's side. The last was your dragon, who felt the loss of your connection, and went into a rabid state mourning.
It takes 5 people to secure your dragon in the pit, 5 people to subdue Caraxes, and 3 people to separate Daemon from your corpse.
The king takes a moment to clutch your hand. His face flinches. Where once your hand was so warm, no warmth now remained. He steps back and watches the maesters cover your body and take you away.
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purple-1995 · 4 months
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Imagine that boyfriend that is always the hornier one in the relationship. Imagine him entering his car with you after a night out with friends. The parking lot is dark and there is almost no one wandering about. Before you can fasten your seatbelt, he stops you and asks you to jerk him off 🥺🙏🏻 It's because you are so hot in your little black dress and you were dancing so pretty all night 🥵 His cock is so hard that is hurting and he doesn't think he can drive in that condition 🥺 Too distracted. So please, baby, it's for your own safety 😇🙏🏻
#HornyBoyfriend
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maidragoste · 2 months
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Fatherhood
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Daemon Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader
More of Daemon's Wife au
Summary: A glimpse into Daemon's life as a father.
REBLOGS, comments and likes are always greatly appreciated. comments always motivate me to continue writing 🥰🥰💖💖
If you have ideas or thoughts for this series you are welcome to share them in my inbox 🤭
Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.
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After watching your husband act like a fool for days you finally lost your patience so tonight when Daemon climbed into bed with you and started kissing your neck you pushed him away.
“What did I do?” He asked, knowing that you were upset by the frown on your face.
"You're ignoring Baelon," you accused him without any doubt of your words.
Since the two of you had came back home from the war, Daemon had barely been to the nursery and when the whole family was at the table he never tried to talk to Baelon. You didn't expect him to instantly become familiar with his role as a father., after all, he hadn't been able to meet their son before, but you never thought that your husband would look for any excuse not to be with your son.
"He doesn't like me so I'm not going to bother him" he responded, wanting to appear unconcerned but you know him well so you know that this actually bothered him.
When you and your husband returned from Stepstones, your son had burst into tears the first time Daemon spoke to him. You noticed the pain in your husband's eyes when Baelon hid his face in your neck, refusing to see him. You didn't blame your son for being afraid since it was the first time he saw his father. You knew Daemon had been excited to finally meet Baelon so you understood that the boy's reaction would have disappointed him but you didn't expect him to decide to distance himself because of that.
"He doesn't like you because he doesn't know you yet," you explain now in a softer tone. "Daemon, I don't know what you expected from your first meeting but he acted like any other child would. He doesn't know you so you have to earn his trust. He's not going to love you just because im tell him you're his father. You have to spend time with him," you advised him as you traced random patterns on his chest, hoping he wouldn't take your words the wrong way.
"I will," he promised before kissing you on the lips. He was satisfied to see that this time you didn't push him away so he continued kissing you again and again.
And Daemon really considered your words because after that night he started spending more time at the nursery. At first, Baelon looked uncertainly at Daemon when he spoke to him but you always encouraged him to respond. In addition, it also helped that your son saw that you were always calm and smiling around Daemon, so little by little the boy began to gain more confidence. Every time you were about to tell him a new story, Baelon asked his father if he knew it too and he listened attentively every time Daemon contributed. When he realized that his father also knew High Valyrian, he began to proudly tell him the words he had learned so far and asked him to also teach him new words, now at the table after the servants brought the food Baelon spent his time asking his father what he liked and what he didn't, interested in knowing more about him. Not only that but Baelon also started inviting him to the walks the two of you take together on the beach. Seeing all this, you were proud of the progress between father and son and it made you happy to see the happiness on Daemon's face every time Baelon asked his opinion or asked him something, not to mention when he held his hand for the first time while the three walked together in the beach.
But still, you couldn't help but notice that the two of them were never alone, you were always there as if they wouldn't dare to be alone.
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"Where is he going?" Baelon asked, looking with a pout at his father's back as he walked.
"You Kepa is going to go see his dragon" You smiled as you came up with an idea so that they could spend some time alone "Do you want to go with him?"
You weren't surprised when he let go of your hand and started running after Daemon shouting "Kepa! Kepa!" Your husband soon stopped and turned to see the little copy of him running towards him with a big smile. He felt his heart warm at the sight. When Baelon was a few steps away from him, he approached and picked him up without warning, making the boy squeal with happiness.
"I want to go with you," the boy announced before his father could ask him what was happening.
Your husband looked at you waiting for you to say something but you were already raising your hand saying goodbye to them with a smile. Baelon moved his hand back and forth until you became a distant speck on the beach.
"What's the name of your dragon?" the boy asked, still in his dad's arms as he walked.
"Caraxes" the father responded with a smile even though this was not the first time his son had asked him that.
"It's like Wing?"
Daemon would be lying if he said he wasn't fond of hearing how Baelon called your dragon Wing because according to the Nightwing boy he was too long.
"Caraxes is much grander than the dragon on your muña," the prince responded, feeling his smile grow larger as he imagined your indignation if you would listen to him. A part of him hoped that Baelon would later tell you this just to see your reaction.
"He's giant!" Baelon exclaimed impressed when he saw the red beast. "Will my dragon be like that too?" He asked excitedly.
"Probably but in many years" Daemon replied and poked his nose when he saw him pouting "Do you want to pet him?" Instantly the pout was replaced by a smile.
"Yes!" the boy shouted excitedly and before Baelon went to touch the dragon, Daemon took his son's small hand before placing it and his carefully on the dragon's face. He did not believe that Caraxes would do anything to him but he preferred not to risk it, it was known that dragons did not usually react well when someone who was not their rider approached them with too much confidence and the last thing he wanted was for his son to end up hurt so he was for a while talking to his dragon while they both caressed it.
Daemon could remember the proudest moments in his life: when he claimed Caraxes, when his father gave him Dark Sister, when he called you his wife for the first time when you told him you were pregnant and now it added up to see his son bond with his dragon.
They were there for a while. Daemon listened with amusement to Baelon's ramblings about how giant Caraxes was and that he surely had to eat a lot to achieve that size, all while never stopping petting the dragon. Until started to get dark then they headed back to the castle.
"I like Wing more" the boy confessed once the figure of the dragon became a distant speck.
"Tomorrow you will come to fly with me and you will see that Caraxes flies faster," the prince said instantly. He had to change Baelon's mind before he said that again but in front of you. He could already imagine your cocky smile and how you would never let him forget it.
"Let's fly now!" the boy squealed excitedly.
"We can't now, your daughter must be waiting for us for dinner" the father explained, and seeing that  Baelon seemed about to complain he added "Would you like her to have dinner alone? I'm sure that would make her sad"
"No, let's go with muña!"
During dinner, Baelon spent his time talking non-stop about Caraxes and how tomorrow he would fly with his Kepa. You listened to everything with a smile and only interrupted your son's ramblings to remind him to eat before the food got cold.
In the middle of Baelon's talks, Daemon took your hand and kissed it. He didn't need to tell you anything, you could see it in his eyes, he was grateful that you encouraged him to stop hiding and that he would make an effort to form a bond with his son.
When it was time for Baelon to go to sleep you and him got up from the table to go to the nursery but first Baelon said goodbye to his Kepa with a kiss on the cheek. You encouraged your son to go ahead with one of the maidens while you stayed with Daemon.
"I'm proud of you," you said as you took your husband's face in your hands and leaned in to kiss him "I can't wait to see you with the next one" you declared between kisses.
Your husband took a while to register your words because he was distracted by the taste of your lips but once he did he stopped kissing you to look at you impressed.
"Are you pregnant?" He asked just to make sure he understood correctly although he could already feel his heart racing.
You nodded with a smile and let out a laugh the moment Daemon pulled you onto his lap. You kissed his neck while his hand rested on your stomach. You still didn't show but he couldn't wait to see how the life inside you grew. He couldn't be by your side when you were pregnant with Baelon but this time it would be different, this time the two of you wouldn't have to discuss the baby's name by letter, this time Daemon would feel the baby's kicks instead of having to imagine it, this time if you wanted him, he would be by your side when you gave birth, this time he wouldn't have to wait years to meet his son. This time he would be there to see him grow.
"This time I won't miss anything," he promised, kissing your forehead.
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866 notes · View notes
leviathanspain · 10 months
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Hey! Saw you were looking for requests. I've seen Alicent's child!Reader manipulating Daemon into being on the Greens side. What about Alicent's daughter accidentally seducing Daemon? Like she's innocent and doesn't realise what she's done but Rhaenyra is not happy about it. (Rhaenyra still loves Daemon and can't get over the fact he is fall for her half-sister)
say yes to heaven
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daemon targaryen x targaryen!reader
synopsis: your uncle always had a soft spot for you, but everyone else could see it was something more.
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your mother hardly ever touched you, let alone brush your hair. she was smiling, a pleasant one, as she followed the brush with her fingers, carefully raking through. it was quiet, the only sound was the crackling of the burning wood, candles flickering around you as you gazed into the mirror, eyes honing in on her face.
she put a hand on your shoulder, a hesitance to it that you wondered if she thought you wouldn’t notice. “you looked lovely today.” she commented, her fingers still going to play with your hair, “prince daemon couldn’t take his eyes off of you.” there was a twinge of disdain in her voice. your mother, after all these years, still couldn’t stand your uncle and half-sister. if she could avoid them all together, she would.
you grabbed the lock of silver hair from her fingers and brushed it forward. you looked down at the table in front of you, and noticed the silver hairbrush that your uncle had acquired for you on one of his many travels. you grabbed the silver hairbrush, giving it to your mother, “he was telling stories from his time in the kings guard.” you tried to brush off the tension, but alicent had grabbed the brush with reluctance.
“riñnykeā, come.” your uncle’s voice whispered in your ear, you turned to see his back, already walking off. you rolled your eyes, following closely as he walked. he was walking quickly, and you had to lift your skirts to try and catch up to him, “umbagon!” you shouted, and he slowed just enough for you to match his stride.
you were smiling now, a laugh just on the tip of your tongue as he bumped into you. you laughed, and shoved him lightly, “what is it you have to show me? is it so important that we have to practically walk half the keep?” you turned back to see the path you had been walking. it was far now, and daemon shrugged, “i know you’ll like this.” his eyes lingered, catching your gaze, you blushed and instead looked to the ground for the rest of your trek.
daemons eyes blazed with satisfaction as he saw you practically leaping up and down with joy. you grabbed him, pulling him into a hug as you still continued to squeal. he laughed, watching you light up was what he lived for.
“i assume the walk was worth it?” daemon raised his eyebrows, and you nodded, “very much so.” you grabbed the sword, grabbing it off the table it had been set on. you hissed slightly, and ignored daemons warnings of the metal still being hot. your fingers brushed over the large targaryen emblem, etched onto the swords hilt. there was a weight to it, but your body seemed to adjust. you swung it towards him, smiling, “perhaps the rogue prince would like to spar?” you looked at him, smirking as you brushed his shoulder with your blade.
hung on his hip was dark sister, and daemon couldn’t resist a challenge. he unsheathed it, watching as you stood firmly against him.
rhaenyra could hear the clashing of swords and laughter as she walked. the closer she got to the training room, the more she recognized you, and daemon.
she put a hand on the door, the commotion was now getting louder, and you were laughing more. daemon’s shouts could be heard, but they were in good spirit. rhaenyra swallowed thickly, and pushed the door open.
daemon had finally caught you. you had cut him on his cheek, and decided that running around the training room was apology enough. but he had finally caught you, dropping your blade, you laughed in his arms. “i’m sorry,” your finger moved to wipe the blood from his cheek, “i ruined your handsome face.” daemon hissed slightly at the contact, but shook his head, “you gave me a memory, riñnykeā. a story to tell.” he knew there was nothing more you loved than hearing his war stories, or his stories from his time as king of the narrow sea.
you nodded, “i guess so.” your hand lingered on his cheek, and you caught yourself staring into his eyes for too long, and your head dipped in embarrassment. you pulled away, but rhaenyra had already seen you.
rhaenyra couldn’t shake the nauseous feeling that crashed upon her. swallowing the rising bile wasn’t enough.
“daemon.” her voice sounded steady, there was no shakiness to it that would reveal how she felt. there was disgust, disgust that daemon was currently holding you, barely her sister, in his arms like a wife.
you were pulling away from him, but daemon held you in his arms still, his hand snaking around your waist, pulling at the skin. he looked at rhaenyra and raised his eyebrows, “what?” he sounded hostile, his jaw clenching as he stared at his wife.
you looked between them and realized there was something that neither of them were saying. you grabbed his hand, it was warm to the touch, but you peeled back his fingers, “thank you, uncle. for my gift, but i must go now.” you stepped back to retrieve your blade, tossed to the ground like an afterthought, daemon dipped his head slightly, “yes..” he trailed off, his hand swinging like dead weight as it fell from your waist. his head turned to rhaenyra, his mouth opening, but you were already too far to catch his words.
alicent glared at the blade, wrapped in one of your finer silks, sitting on your bed. you were at your vanity, removing your jewels, you began to undo your hair, preparing to brush it.
“what did rhaenyra say again?” alicent looked away from the blade, warily towards you. you shrugged, “nothing. all she said was his name and they stared at each other for a moment until i left.”
alicent hummed in response, and sighed, “are you to sleep with the blade now? not even your brothers sleep with their weapons.” her comment made you slid your eyes towards her, before scoffing, “my brothers might not sleep with weapons but they have slept with half of westeros.” you grabbed the silver hairbrush, and raked it through your hair, “my uncle gave me a gift that is more than just a weapon.” alicent stayed quiet, and moved to brush your hair, “i think daemon wants to give you more than just a sword.”
it was a week before you saw daemon again. you had been training with your new blade during, hoping to impress him with improved skills.
you had moved towards the stuffed sparring dummy, full of hay. your sword struck it, a deep slash appeared on the dummy’s stomach as you pulled your sword back. you huffed, staring down at your mark with pride.
the sound of clapping echoed out into the room and you turned, seeing your uncle with his shoulder leaning against the doorway. he continued to clap as he walked towards you. excitedly, you walked up to him, “what do you think?”
daemon neared you, grabbing your face in his hands, leaning down, he brought his lips towards yours, “magnificent..” and he brought them down, crashing against yours, you felt his teeth against your lips, moaning as you kissed him.
you dropped your blade again, your hands moving to grab at his back, pulling him closer. he pulled back, drawing a breath, he kissed you once more, “show me, show me again.” he panted, his voice sounded shaky, but his grip on you was determined.
rhaenyra couldn’t stop him. she had begged, pleaded that he leave you alone.
“how could you?!” her cries had been heard across the keep, horrified that her husband would present you with such a gift.
not for the fact that you were her sister, but because he was her husband.
but he was a man, a man she loved, even if he was corrupting her younger sister right before her eyes. she had seen him slip away, knowing where he was off to. all rhaenyra could do was sit in front of the fire, and try not to vomit up the contents of her stomach.
“show me again.” daemon pulled at the shoulder of your dress, his fingers pulling at the fabric. you shuddered at the cold air hitting your bare skin, and did as he said, moving gracefully as your sword cut through the air. daemon watched you, his eyes enchanted by your movements, he couldn’t deny himself of you. finally, with a frustration to it, he pulled your dress down from the shoulder, the fabric tearing roughly as you gasped. nearly dropping the sword, you pawed as your dress fell around you in ribbons.
daemon didn’t miss a beat, “show. me. again.” he demanded, his voice was powerful, showing of the authority he once had.
“yes, my prince.” you whispered, and continued to cut through the air, smiling as you did so.
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buckybarnesb-tch · 10 months
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Alpha!Daemon Targaryen meets his Omega
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The king had taken you in upon realizing that you were an Omega.
You were the daughter of Vaemond though he would never acknowledge you as his as you were just a bastard, though you were also the first Targaryen offspring of any kind that was an Omega in nearly 100 years. There were a few Alphas such as Daemon and Corlys but no Omegas.
Viserys ensured you were given the best education possible (considering you didn’t present until you were 14 and had lived as an orphan until then) and kept you close with constant guards, unwilling to risk a rouge Beta deciding that fucking a Targaryen Omega would be fun.
You became quite close with Rhaenyra and neither of you was usually seen without the other. You had arrived in the palace after being found by a guard in the street only about 2 weeks after the beginning of Daemons war in the step stones.
You had been told plenty about Daemon by your best friend who admitted she had had a little crush on him before falling in love with Ser Harwin Strong. You wondered quite a bit about the rouge Prince but for the most part you put it out of your mind.
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You didn’t meet Daemon until 3 years later, you had settled into being a lady and for the most part gotten a handle on life in the capital, so of course someone would show up and turn it on its head. The smell washed over you almost instantly as he knelt down before the king, handing over his make-shift crown and you froze. You had always been tense around Alphas, it’s just common sense when you’re an Omega, especially one without any kind of defense training which you didn’t have since you had guards at all times but you do wish you could feel safer in knowing you could protect yourself, at least a little bit.
His scent though…it washed over you in waves and you were overcome by the rush of calm and need your Alphas scent delivered you. He was in the middle of hugging his brother when his body went stiff and you knew he smelled you too.
“Help?” You whispered to Rhaenyra, her looking over you and realizing what was happening fast.
“Are you sure? It could only be-“
“Your Omega brother! This is wonderful! Y/n is the only Omega in the castle, where are you child?” Rhaenyra pulled you down and through the side door, having avoided the guards who were listening to Damon’s shocking news.
“You do know you can’t avoid him, right? Daemon is…tenacious to say the least.” She teased and you smiled a bit as you both quickly made your way outside and into the gardens.
“I understand but I don’t want all of those people watching like it is their own affair.”
If anyone understood you in the world it was her, for the most part at least. You were only alone in the Godswood for about 5 minutes before you heard footsteps and looked up to see her father walking towards you with a battalion of guards.
“Go, it’s okay. Get back to your room, you’ll be safer there than anywhere else. I’ll handle my father, go!” She pushed you and you stumbled back before running through the bushes of flowers and trees, only just having looked back to see if she had followed when you plowed into a firm, hard body.
“You must be Y/n.” He spoke and you nodded your head cautiously, taking a step back but his face softened. “Don’t be frightened. I know my reputation but no harm will ever befall you while I am here lovely Omega.” His face was smirking but the thrumming bond that snapped in place the second you smelled each other was weighing down on you, pushing you to relax. “I mean what I say, you are safe my sweet Byka rūklon. I am your protector now.” (Little Flower)
He held out his arm, I suppose trying to be less intimidating and I enjoyed it quite a bit having heard the tales of Daemon Targaryen, rider of Caraxes. Everyone said that you couldn’t help but feel fear when he stared down at you, an intimidating presence to say the least but all I felt from him in that moment was adoration. I took his arm after a brief pause and he smiled, his face relieving itself of that signature smirk and led me back to the castle. “Oh Good! You’ve found her brother.” The king spoke as he stood by the door with my guards who moved to stand behind me before Daemon stopped them.
“You two have been relieved of your duties.” They looked stunned for a second but given that its Daemon that said if they quickly took off before he decided to have their heads removed from their bodies for standing too close to me.
“Brother? You can’t possibly think you can protect her alone, you have duties to-“
“I very well could protect her alone! However I will choose guards to stay with her who won’t lose her in a throne room whenever she decides to go for a walk. I need men far less stupid and I will appoint them when we return to Dragonstone to marry. You’ll love it there Byka rūklon, I promise you. Let us go, the flight will take about 6 hours.”
“You’re leaving already? Daemon, don’t you think-“
“I would like to marry my Omega as soon as possible, you understand that brother. Nothing that need be too planned, we will marry in the ways of our ancestors. I will wait until you and Rhaenyra can be there, I’m sure my Omega wants her friend there, don’t you Byka rūklon?” I nodded quickly.
“Please? It would feel wrong without her…Alpha.” I added Alpha at the end, seeing how much he longed for it by the look on his face.
“Anything you want, always.” Daemon pulled me close to his chest, kissing my head and I welcomed the comfort he now delivered me, his scent flooding my senses and effecting me greatly. “Will you bring her things for her my dear niece? It will be greatly appreciated.” I could tell Daemon was rushing as he began moving again and I knew how much he hated these people and this place, pulling me towards the exit with the King and my friend behind to see us off I suppose. Rhaenyra had told me how much Daemon preferred Dragonstone to Kings Landing, less conniving, conspiring people there and one less Otto Hightower who I admittedly didn’t like either. Speaking of whom.
“Daemon, leaving already?” We we’re almost at the door to the front gates when he had cut him off, looking at me the entire time. He had always stared at me and struck me as the sort of Beta I needed to be protected from. My guards always kept me at least a good 5 feet from him making me incredibly grateful that they answered to the King directly and never the Hand.
“I would like to be back on Dragonstone with my Omega as soon as I can, not that it’s any of your business.” I could hear my Alphas distaste in his voice as he practically spit the words at him. As Otto took a step closer I tightened my grip on Daemons hand and he looked down at me curiously, seeing I wouldn’t take my eyes off of him and that seemed to be enough.
“Well we will certainly miss your presence in our halls my dear Omega.” Daemons hand was gone from mine so quickly I barely had time to look up before he was pressing him to the wall and choking the life out of him.
“Daemon!” Viserys shouted, watching his brother but keeping the guards from stopping him, turning his head to me.
“You think you get to call her that? You think that’s appropriate for you Beta?! No one calls my Omega that but me, you disgusting old bat!” Otto was making a choking noise and while I enjoyed it I knew I had to calm him now before the Hand lost his head. While Daemon would be in his rights to protect me, many would dispute it and we surely wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon.
I reached out, placing my hand onto his shoulder and while his muscles tensed for a second they quickly relaxed again. “Alpha. It’s okay.”
“Why do you fear him? Answer me quickly Omega.” He warned, his hand tightening and a quiet whine coming from Otto.
“I am uncomfortable with the way he looks at me, however the guards never let him close. All is well…Please Daemon? If you kill him leaving now is not an option.” I reminded, his hand releasing the man instantly and turning to me before he collapsed to the floor.
“His eyes will never linger on you again Byka rūklon, you have my word…brother. I will see you in a few days. Do not bring this snake with you.” He turned to hug his brother as Rhaenyra hugged me close.
“Hop on Syrax and come visit often, okay? You can stay a few nights, escape Alicent and skip your schooling with me.” I teased feeling her giggle as she held me.
“I promise. I’ll come a few weeks after the wedding.”
“Weeks?”
“You’ll be busy afterwards, trust me. I know Daemon. He has the blood of the Dragon, and it runs hot. Be safe, and good luck in the sky. Hold on tightly.” I was confused for a moment before understanding her meaning. I had always hesitated to get onto Syrax with her, scared of falling off but now it’s not Syrax I’ll be riding.
My hand was taken again and pulled out the door and towards the big red beast in the courtyard causing me to pull back, Daemon turning to face me and smiling at my nervous face. “It’s alright Byka rūklon, I won’t let you fall.”
“What about getting eaten before I even get onto him!?” He snorted, holding me to him tighter and leading me forward, the dragons eyes on me as we got closer.
“Caraxes understands more than you think, he feels what I feel for you and he would never hurt you because that would hurt me.” The white haired man took hold of my hand and held it in his with his other arm around my waist, holding my hand in his up to the giant scaly creature. “You are the only person other than me that he will feel the need to protect. All dragons protect their riders mates, but Omegas even more so.” He leaned into my much smaller hand and I felt his cold scales on my skin, Damon moving my other hand to stroke up his snout.
“Rytsas Caraxes.” I knew my pronunciation was shit but the Blood Worm made a purring noise that rivaled my own with how deep and lovely it was.
“That was wonderful. Has Rhaenyra been teaching you?” I nodded my head.
“So that we could talk without most understanding, especially the Queen.” I giggled, continuing to pet the Dragon who leaned his head into my body which would have knocked me over had Daemon not been behind me holding on.
“Lykiri!” Daemon commanded though he just continued leaning into me.
“It’s okay…I like it.”
“Hmm…just wait until you are carrying my child. He will never want to leave your side. Aegon the Conquerors Omega was nearly always with Balerion when she was with child, he was a protective beast. Knowing Caraxes you’re going to have an even harder time being alone.” He teased and while he meant to make me laugh it actually sounded quite nice to be honest.
“We’re going to be the best of friends, huh?” He trilled out a wonderful sound but unlike the sound a bird makes the ground nearly vibrated with it, it was so deep. “I think I like the sound of that.” I told Daemon whose hand traveled down from my waist to cup my sex through my dress making me gasp as my body became tingly.
“Then we’d better get started, shouldn’t we?” He spoke in my ear, causing my body to shiver excitedly. “I’m going to fill you up so full there will be no doubt that you are carrying my child, and no Beta will dare lay eyes on you again! You will spend the rest of forever filled with my children, Gods I want to fill this cunt so desperately! All mine!” He growled, his other hand now squeezing my tit as he kissed my neck roughly.
“All yours Alpha! Whenever you want, forever!” I was becoming very turned on but just as quickly as he started groping me, he stopped and lifted me over his shoulder roughly, climbing up onto Caraxes and placing me in front of him so I would not fall off.
“Hold on Omega.”
“You think!?” He cackled at my shout and I rolled my eyes.
“Riding dragons is what you will be doing the rest of your life, enjoy it, there’s no way to get away from it now.” His threat was playful but I considered it for a moment…I don’t think I want to get away from this. This is perfect.
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thebadboyfanclub · 1 month
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Together As One (Daemon x Reader)
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So this is more a twisted love type of hype, I hope you guys like the way I portrayed this request cause I wanted to give it more of a dark edge since Daemon is definitely a gray character. Hope you enjoy!
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Mothers love their children, everyone could agree upon the unconditional love mothers held for their kind with no doubt in their hearts, songs, poems, plays, and any type of art one can think of have attempted to portray such devotion. None, however, could predict that some mothers have a certain type of fear for their child, like some whisper in the back of their heads warning them about the little glimpse in their eyes that was not like the stars but more of a scorching fire threading to burn everything.
That was the exact feeling Rhaenys had for her beloved daughter, the twin sister of Laenor, it would often baffle her how her husband could not see what was clearly there, (y/n) was always in competition with everyone about everything, the finest clothes belonged to her, she had to ride a dragon first, learn Valyrian faster.
Whilst Rhaenys prayed for her daughter's thirst to settle, the others praised her for her bravery, her determination, and her intellect, something that made (y/n) yearn for more.
“I would like to raise a toast to my dear brother, a married man to our future queen, may your wedlock be blessed with numerous children and a road paved with nothing but joy and success, Prince Daemon, hopefully you are next”
(Y/n) stood with a smile of triumph dancing on her lips before she raised her cup to gently take a sip, as she sat down Daemon's eyes followed her, he was well aware of her game, though he seemed unfazed and almost amused by her comment the truth laid somewhere deeper than the surface, not a single soul in this room would have been able to guess that the delighted twin of now future king consort was playing a game of cat and mouse with none other than prince daemon behind closed doors.
(Y/n) had been relentless in her ways to seduce Daemon, sneaking out at all hours of the night, sending people after him so she could know his whereabouts just so she could magically appear, the combination of sweet wine and her alluring voice was enough for Daemon to stumble and fall right on top of her, taking her for a ride to the addictive roads of lust.
She was stunning, flawless, a true Targaryen that screamed opulence and elegance with a face sculpted by the gods, the common folk would gush over the “oceans Angel” a nickname given by the realm for her angelic features, how would they know how dark her mind could get in order to make everyone yield before her?
-
“Mother”
“Dearest, how are you on this fine morrow?”
“I am well, the little one finally decided to let me get some rest”
“When I was pregnant with you I remember thinking you would kick your way out of my belly, the Apple does not fall far from the tree”
(Y/n)s daughter, Leora, leaned as much as she could to kiss her mother's cheek before she sat down next to her to break her fast, queen Alicent had already taken her seat along with her daughter Heleana and (y/n)s other son Elion, Alicent and (y/n) enjoyed each others presence, a mutual bond based on respect had been build over the years that was sealed by marrying Leora with Aegon and Elion with Heleana.
“The maester said you should drink more orange juice, it will help with the fatigue”
“As well as eat more meat, pregnancy is no easy task, you must be as strong as ever”
Alicent chimed, the birth of her second grandchild was one of the most important events, Alicent adored her first grandchild, beautiful Hael, a strong boy who was just now starting to learn how to walk, still, he had everyone wrapped around his finger.
“I appreciate your concerns but I am fine, healthy as a horse”
“It wouldn’t hurt, let us not risk it dearest”
“I thought once I get older I wouldn’t have to listen to my mother”
“Well I am sorry but that will never happen, drink”
(Y/n) had stepped up and appeared as the perfect mother, loving, kind, and caring, she did love her children, however, what she loved most was the things they could do for her, her firstborn daughter was now the wife of the king first born son, and her son was a strong, skill full knight that served the realm and came back in triumph, how could she not adore her perfect creations?
“How is the king?”
“I am afraid his health is decreasing, the maesters advise him to remain abed for the day”
“Rhaenyra will be questioned, he won’t sit this one out I am afraid”
“Ugh the precious Rhaenyra, I wish I could stay in my chambers until those god-forsaken days pass”
(Y/n)s smile was wiped from her face and in an instant it was replaced with an angry scowl, in a split second her hand had grasped her daughter, Leoras' eyes went wide with fear when they met the angry hues of her mothers.
“You mustn’t speak in such a way, I’ve taught you better”
Leora only nodded frantically, (y/n) had her own opinions over Rhaenyra, she however, knew better than to voice them, not even in such a secluded area of the palace, (y/n)s hold turned from forceful to a caress before she directed her eyes back to her friend and queen Alicent.
“Besides, the king will do as he wishes and if the gods bless him with the strength to stand he should be there, isn’t it right Alicent?”
“I couldn’t have phrased it better, my dear”
-
(Y/n) and Alicent were each other's shadows, one compelled the other and in the end one way or the other the result was one of their favor, (y/n) was disciplined and had mastered the act of a gracious and lovely princess, Alicent was strict and slipped under everyone’s nose as she cloaked herself with the act of a pious queen, the two of them had years up on the horse of being able to maneuver their way around the kingdom so the men would not suspect a damn thing.
Viserys had seemed to get worst which made him unable to attend even when Daemon and (y/n) went to his room to assist him, the king could not even sit up let alone walk, Daemon was disheartened, thankfully for him his dutiful and beautiful wife let him rest on her shoulder and like a soothing salve her encouraging words went over his wound of his beloved older brother nearing his end.
“My Love”
“(Y/n)? What- what has happened?”
“I apologize for waking you up my dear, it is your brother”
“Viserys? What about- no”
“My dear husband, you must be strong, I am so sorry”
(Y/n) grasped Daemon's hands tightly before she brought them up to her lips to kiss his knuckles, of course, she was one of the first to know, Alicent had rushed to her chamber and delivered the news herself, she had waited patiently as the king took his last breath, Alicent told no one, not even the maester, (y/n) had to know before anyone.
“Viserys”
Daemon had been taken over by his thoughts, they’ve always had their differences but at the end of the day, they shared the same mother and father, a bond that could never be broken, no matter how many times Daemon has run off he always ended up by Viserys side.
“My love, I understand that this is too much for you, however, we must prepare our daughter”
“What does Elora have to do with this?”
“She is to be queen, she needs her father”
“Queen? Have you gone mad?”
(Y/n) bit her bottom lip in combination with her head tilting to the side, as if nothing but a mere candle lit her face Daemon could still identify the features that he so adored but now he could not wrap his head around what was his wife suggesting.
“My lord husband, King Viserys has left us, it is only natural for his son to succeed him”
“It is expected for his firstborn, Rhaenyra, to do so, not Aegon”
“Where is the princess? But in a place where she could have visited if she wished, when has she even attempted to come and visit her beloved father who was in agony all these years? She only came when her privilege was at risk and then blamed Alicent who has served by the king's side for his illness”
“This is not a matter to discuss”
“But it is, the gods know I loved Viserys and he had been good to me, but let us not forget he killed his first wife in his desperate attempt for a male heir, he remarried and Alicent gave him an heir and a spare and still it was not good enough, he passed by you and his sons to bury his guilt by calling Rhaenyra the heir, it wasn’t because he trusted her or because he saw something in her, he passed the title on to her because he did not trust you and then because he wanted to wash the blood of queen Aemmas from his hands”
Silence fell upon them, (y/n) pulled away from her husband and headed towards the door, as his hand rested upon the handle she turned her head back to lord husband who was visibly shaken, (y/n) might appear disheartened but she could detect that her monologue had started to creep on to Daemons heart.
“I love you with all my heart, that is why I shall leave you to grieve, if you wish to run to her I will…. Understand, it is not like I ever doubted the unconditional love you have for the realm delight, now might be your chance to pursue it”
Her tone was drowning in sorrow leaving Daemon with an unwavering sense of guilt in a dark room as his wife had disappeared to place her hand over a war of fire and blood, (y/n) was correct, Daemon did love Rhaenyra, still, he did not place his flame for her over what he had built with his wife over the years.
(Y/n) walked away with a smile of triumph, she had done her part flawlessly and now she was certain that Daemon would be by her side before the crown was placed on Aegons head, however, she did not have time to waste, Alicent and (y/n) were the ones to wake the new king and queen, preparing them for what they had destined to be.
“You may enter”
“Prince Daemon is asking to see his daughter and wife, alone”
(Y/n) stopped brushing her daughter's head, carefully placing the golden brush down before she looked down at her daughter who nodded in approval.
“Let him in, do not allow anyone to disturb us”
“Right away”
The girl curtsied as quickly as possible before she disappeared only to be replaced by none other than Daemon. (Y/n) took a sharp inhale through her nose once he entered the room, preparing herself for a mental battle, surprisingly when her eyes scanned for his she was met with a certain lightness, an ease to him that caught her by a pleasant surprise.
Instinctively a small smile played on her lips, her Daemon was dressed in his black attire, leather suited him, and his hair was pulled away from his face the way she always told him to do it.
(Y/n) was not made of stone, she might play like she is though her heart skipped a beat every time she was near her lord husband, Daemon was one of the very few people that (y/n) would throw herself in the fire, even though their love felt like the flames licked her back, that sweet pain of admiration and devotion that the poets would sing and the common folk would go mad.
“My dearest loves”
Daemon declared, that their daughter rose from her chair and ran to her father, she was always the one known to succumb to emotions and this time (y/n) could not scold her over it, Leora was her father's daughter, (y/n) might not have spoken over the matter only to allow the young girl the solidarity of her feelings, inside Leora was always waiting for her father to walk through this door.
“You look beautiful, a perfect gown for the queen”
“Father I-“
“Before I handed you over to Aegon I made you a promise, do you remember it?”
“I will do anything to see you happy”
“I will put myself through war if you tell me that this is what you want, all you have to do is say it”
Daemon was no fool, he was certain that the second that crown graced his daughter's head a war would nip their heels, Rhaenyra would not go down without a fight and that meant that Daemon would have to face her in battle, a battle he was willing to put for his lovely Leora.
“I want to be queen, I want Aegon to be our king”
“Very well, I wish you a fruitful reign, may the Gods smile down upon you”
‘May the Gods have mercy on us’ he thought, with a smile he brushed away those dark thoughts only to place a kiss on his daughter's forehead, a small part of him screamed that this was the right thing, his brother never thought he was good enough, now his brother was on the ground and his daughter was crowned queen and would carry on the legacy of the Targaryen name.
“Go on now, I want to have a word with your mother”
“I will be waiting for you”
Leora informed them before she gave them the privacy Daemon desired. (Y/n) stood as still as a statue, her heart pounding on her chest as her throat grew dry and scratchy, she was the master of composure up until now, faced with the only person who could make her waver.
“My beautiful, sweet lady wife, you spoke harshly last night”
“I spoke nothing but the truth”
She threw back in a cold tone. Daemon only smirked as he started to approach her, she did not dare to move, (y/n) was comforted by his light-hearted manner though there was an underlying mischief, Daemon was playing something, and (y/n) was left trying to catch up before it is too late.
Daemon stood before her, his arm finding her forearms and giving them a gentle squeeze, his eyes gazing back at hers with a glimmer that (y/n) had grown to yearn for, she despised the fact that she had to manipulate him like this, she was left with no other choice but to do this, a side of hers cursed the day Rhaenyras and Daemons fates met, this would have been so much easier had (y/n) been the only women Daemon loved.
“You are so bright, I am almost disappointed that you didn’t foresee this”
“The war?”
“No, me, you think I have not caught wind of all the scheming against Rhaenyra? The upbringing of my daughter to become the wife of my brother's firstborn son, putting our son on the sea the minute he was born to have better knowledge of anything driftmark related to gain the favor of your father, every step you so amazingly calculated with Alicent so you can get our family here”
“You have gone mad”
“I saw behind the facade and that makes you nervous, I was there with you every step of the way you mustn’t be frightened, I let you do all this for only one reason”
“Alright, let us entertain this absurd claim of yours, what is the reason?”
“Because I love you”
(Y/n) mouth slightly parted in shock, Daemon had professed his love for her on multiple occasions but the weight on this one was different, he had pulled what she thought was the perfect cover, leaving her bare in front of him, uncovering her thirst that she had kept away from everyone.
“I love you so much that I will let my daughter become the target on Rhaenyras mind, I will go against the woman that you think threatens your position in my heart, I will put myself in the sword before I let her even get one strand of your hair because you and our daughter want this”
“And you don’t? You always held a grudge over the fact that Viserys never declared you as his heir”
“My brother is dead now and because of you our child wishes to be a queen, I picked you as my second wife because I saw your strength, your determination, you need to come on top, that is the Targaryen fire through and through”
“You truly mean all this?”
“You are my lady wife, you gave me a home, now it is time to show the realm that we are the rightful heirs of the throne, together as one”
(Y/n) reached daemons lips for a passionate kiss, his hands slid down to her waist and pulled her as close as humanly possible, sharing this moment meant everything to (y/n), she had him devotedly by her side, he saw her true nature and walked straight into her fire, surrendering in her and even shielding her and her family.
“Let us find out daughter, I want us to be the ones to place the crown on her head”
“I wouldn’t dare let anyone else have that honor”
Requests are open!
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tinfairies · 1 year
Note
OOOO! Can we get Aegon, Aemond and Daemon reacting to another man during a tourney asking for their wife’s favor and praising her beauty?
Aegon's pissed, he'd grip his goblet of wine and place a hand on his wifes shoulder. Opting to speak for her. "Yes my wife is very beautiful. You should see how she glows in my bed."
The poor man getting embarrassed by the prince's forwardness. He dips his head and continues on his way.
*
Aemond tries to keep his cool. He knows his wife, and that she'd never cheat. He still feels jealous though, wishing he had entered the tourney just so he could knock this poor man into the dirt. Aemond opens his mouth to speak "You better not lose with my wife's favor. No man has ever dishonered her and I won't let that start now."
He keeps a tight grip on his wifes thigh for the rest of the event.
*
Daemon can't help but laugh when the young squire asks for his wifes favor. He couldn't be mad, it took balls to approach the viewing box. Daemon looks at his wife with amusement as she throws her wreath of roses down to the young man. He admires how she's kinder than him to have even given the boy a second glance.
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lokisprettygirl · 5 months
Text
Close Ties (Daemon Targaryen x Female Reader) (Modern AU) (Non canon) (18+)
Read Chapter 13 // Series Masterlist
Chapter 14
Summary : Your life takes a drastic turn as family secrets are revealed.
Warning: 18+ dad's best friend trope, canon (we don't know her..don't like don't read), feeling of hopelessness, uncle Daemon kink (you don't have to squint), familial uncle niece sort of relationship but he's not really her uncle, there will be more smut later, masturbation, significant age gap but reader is in her mid twenties, mention of infidelity, miscarriage , divorce, smoking and alcohol drinking, physical violence implied
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Time carried the ability to change in the brink of a moment and you had never understood the importance of it until now. At the hospital you paced back and forth as your mother was admitted after she had fainted, she had been stressed for a while and finding out about your relationship with Daemon as well as your father's affair with Stella was too much at once for her.
However she was okay and that was a relief, as you watched you mum and dad having a conversation all you felt for your father was anger and you knew you didn't want to be there any more. You couldn't even look at him the same way without feeling disgusted.
“Can you take me home?” you asked Daemon but he didn't even look at you as he answered you.
“Don't think your father would appreciate that”
“I'm an adult Daemon, I can go home with whoever I want and he can't do anything about it”
He nodded as you said that and obliged, you were hurting and he didn't want to add to it..
On the drive back home none of you said a word, he could sense your anger towards your father. When the truth of your relationship with Daemon came out you were worried about disappointing him but now you were disappointed in him. You had looked up to your father as a perfect man who despite all the temptations he received because of his status stayed loyal to your mother but it was all lies.
He was a good father to you, always had been but he wasn't a good husband to your mother, sure he treated her well all her life and loved her but like Daemon had said before he didn't respect her enough to not cheat on her, atleast not that night when he chose to fuck his best friend's wife.
You looked at Daemon and you felt a sense of resentment towards him as well, he made you break things off with Cassandra which you were grateful for but then he forgave your dad after what he had done to him?
About an hour later as you stormed inside his room he was on the bed icing those bruises your father had given him and for a moment your anger towards the situation melted. He was alone, he got hurt by the people he trusted and loved the most and still carried the strength to open his heart for forgiveness, not just that but he also protected your father's shameful truth from your mother and you all these years when he could have spilled the truth for revenge..
“Sit down pixie, I need you to calm down”
You walked towards the bed and sat down as he said that and then you chuckled,
“Were you calm when you found out that your wife chose to fuck your best friend and your best friend didn't resist her either?” his jaw clenched as you said that as if he was reminded of the moment he had figured that out.
“No i wasn't calm and I'm not asking you to not be upset but I need you to trust me when I say this that you'd need to forgive your father, it's all in the past anyways” the way he just wanted you to get over it made you even more upset.
“Yeahhh. Past? Who's to say Stella was the only one?”
“She was ..trust me she was the only one”
You got up from the bed as he said that and turned towards him so he was facing you directly, you wanted to look into his eyes while he spewed such bullshit to you.
“I need to know the truth, the whole truth, he was your best man, he was your best friend then how could he do this to you?” You asked him but words came out all choked from your own tears, this is why he never wanted to tell you the truth, he wanted to protect your feelings, you looked up to your father, he was your hero but that would change now.
“Remember that last trip we took?” He asked you so you nodded in response,
“I took your mum for a tour of the city, she slipped and hurt herself so I took her to the hospital since your dad was at the hotel busy with some calls he had to take. Stella was there too...she didn't want to come with us .. I don't know what happened but your dad told me that they both went to the bar together for a drink and got to talking, then she made a move on him”
His voice was devoid of any emotion as he said those words as if the event didn't even affect him anymore. You did remember the day, you didn't want to go anywhere that day so you had just stayed in your room all day long.
“Ofcourse she did but did he not remember that he was fucking married and had a child with his highschool sweetheart?” you asked him, your voice was full of contempt.
“I'm sure he did but not in those moments, they were drunk, she started to flirt incessantly with him, that's what she does apparently, telling him things like how handsome and rich he was becoming with every passing day” your expressions turned to one of disgust as you thought about the situation
“Your father was a good looking man but somehow he always felt insecure, especially when he wasn't who he is today, your mum was the only woman to have loved him like that and when a tall beautiful woman like Stella started to flirt with him, in his drunken state he couldn't resist her. That's what he told me, he was not proud of what he had done, he was a fucking mess when I confronted him, he tried everything he could to make me stay but i didn't. I couldn't, so he begged me to keep you and your mum away from this, told me that he couldn't lose you two as well” you scoffed as he finished his words.
“But he was okay with losing you and he kept us in the dark and for years he allowed us to make our own perceptions regarding you and you're here trying to protect him for all his wrongdoings” you turned around to storm out so he grabbed your arm and stood up to pull you closer to him,
“I'm not turning blind eye to his mistakes y/n” there was a look of anger in his eyes, he wanted to get through to you and for you to lean into him for support and not run away from him when you felt hurt and betrayed.
“But you want me to forgive him?” You asked him so he kissed your forehead which made you chuckle again “Well took you ten years to do the same and you won't even give me time to be upset and angry?”
You took yourself out of his hold and turned around to leave for your room, you couldn't be around him if he was going to behave like this.
“I took ten years because I had the luxury of time, you don't y/n..your father won't be around for long”
You halted in your steps as he said that. You wanted him to take his words back but there was a sinking feeling in your gut, as you turned around to look at him, there were tears in his eyes and fear in yours.
“What did you say?”
He walked towards you and grabbed you by the shoulders to pull you closer to him, your eyes looked up at him shocked and confused so he cupped your cheeks before he spoke again,
“I didn't just come back to repair my relationship with your father or settle back in London, I came back because he begged me to do so and you don't ever deny a dying man's wish, you never ever do that”
You looked at him with a look of shock splattered all over your face, mouth stayed open in surprise as you processed the information.. this can't be real right because it indeed felt like a nightmare. How could your life take such a drastic turn so suddenly?
“He made a mistake and ruined my life, I forgave him but i didn't forget and I don't think I'd ever forget what he had done to me that night but I am choosing to forgive him for all those times our friendship wasn't tarnished and ruined by his lack of self control, for all the good times we had with each other, i forgave him and came back and I'm so glad that I did because it led me to you and you have become the most important person in my life now”
You burst into a fit of cry as he finished his words so he wrapped his arms around you and hugged you tightly to console you, he didn't want you to spend the night alone with no one to comfort you.
“Take your time pixie, I'm not asking you to forget everything but when you fall asleep tonight think of all those cherished moments your father gave you and how happy he had made you all these years”
After a while when tears refused to come out you looked up at him and pressed soft little kisses on his bruises. He was a gem of a person, he was the true friend perhaps your dad didn't even deserve in his life, he threw it all away for a few moments of fun but Daemon was right, your father had given you the best life and had supported all your life decisions, no matter how ridiculous they were. He had loved you and your mum, there was no denying that.
“I'll forgive him if mum does, i won't forgive him if she won't”
“She would.. sweetheart”
“What's wrong with him?” Your eyes welled up again as you questioned him about your dad's illness. Suddenly it all clicked, the random trips and Daemon insisting you to join the family business and to learn from your father while he was here, everything connected.
“Carcinoid tumor, your father is being treated by his trusted doctor in the states, he didn't want to get treated here because he was trying to protect you from the truth for as long as he could”
All those trips they were taking together suddenly made complete sense and the reason why he went all out on your birthday this year. You still didn't want to believe that your father was severely ill, he had all the money in the world, he'd be okay right?
“Mum knows about this?”
“She does “
“He'll be okay though right?”
He hugged you again as you questioned him with such innocence and didn't say a word in response. Maybe he didn't want to lie to you and tell you that your father would recover when there was 50 percent chance that he wouldn't..
“Sleep with me please..i don't want to be alone”
“Shhhh sweetheart I'm right here” he picked you up in his arms and snuggled with you until your sobs had quieted down and you had fallen asleep.
He knew your father wasn't pleased about this development between you two but there's nothing he could have done now.
The next morning as you woke up Daemon urged you to go see your parents and talk to them. So that's what you did, you thought your mum would still be angry but when you entered their room they were talking normally with each other, maybe she had made peace with it because he was sick but your heart still broke for her.
She sent your father out of the room because she wanted to talk to you in private and as soon as he was gone you put your head down on her lap and clutched onto her, your life had turned for the worse in the past twenty four hours and you didn't know how to handle that. There was your relationship with Daemon, then the truth about Stella and your father and now you had to deal with his illness as well. It felt too much at once so you just cried and cried some more.
“Your father told me about you and Daemon” you sat up as she said that “He's not happy” you chuckled as she said that, no you wouldn't allow her to turn this around. Your relationship with Daemon wasn't wrong.
“Ohh you think I'm happy about the secret he kept from us and the secret you two had been keeping from. Me?” you asked her so she shook her head.
“It's in the past, I don't care anymore, he told me that she was the only one he ever fucked up with and i believe him” you looked at her shocked at the calm demeanor she had right now because she had collapsed last night after learning about it “Our marriage was going through a tough phase at the time, you know i miscarried plenty of times and it drove us apart for a moment..your father wasn't the only one who was unfaithful during the time” she looked down as she was ashamed of herself in that moment and you got off the bed to get away from her. Liars, everyone was a liar in your family.
“Please don't tell me that you and Daemon –”
“Jesus Christ no y/n..he had always been like my little brother”
She interrupted you before you could finish that sentence and you breathed a momentarily sigh of relief but then reality of the situation hit you like a rock, your parents' seemingly perfect marriage wasn't so perfect after all it seems.
In all of this commotion the only person who came out looking innocent was your Daemon, that sweet gentle man was like a blessing and nobody appreciated him. He got hurt and he had no one to lean on to at the time. How did he deal with such a betrayal? How did he have the courage to forgive Stella and move on with her?
“I don't want you to be cross with your father because of me..I'm sure Daemon told you about his–”
“Yeah that he's dying ..yeah” your tone was casual, not because you didn't care but because you felt extremely numb at the moment after everything you had learned since last night.
After your mother you had a chat with your father as well, the reason why he urged you to join the family business suddenly and why he brought Daemon back to guide you was because he was dying slowly. He wanted to feel at peace when it would be his time to leave so he really needed Daemon to forgive him and he didn't trust anyone except Daemon to teach you right from wrong when it comes to business but of course he didn't anticipate that things would take a romantic turn between you two.
“I made the move, he wasn't at fault here, sure he felt something for me but I was the one to take a step towards him, he just didn't want to keep hurting me, he's not a pervert, he's not sick and he didn't come back to take revenge from you so the next time you see him I need you to apologize to him because after everything he had done for you he don't deserve to be treated this way”
Your father cried along with you and as soon as he broke down and hugged you suddenly you felt the wave of grief coursing through you, you didn't know how much time you had with him but you knew it would never be enough. He was young still and he had a full life ahead of him that you knew he wouldn't get to experience.
“Y/n I have never asked you for anything in my life, but I want something from you”
As your father pleaded with you, you felt the similar sinking feeling in your gut that told you that whatever would come out of his mouth next would only bring you pain but then you don't deny a dying man's wish right?
As you took heartbroken steps towards Daemon that night you knew he'd probably resent you for hurting him this way but you felt helpless.
One look at you and Daemon understood what you wanted to tell him, you didn't even have to use your words, he had a similar conversation with you father, last night he thought he'd have to leave again. But this morning your father begged him to stay with him but then he also begged him to spare his only daughter, she was young and she was the sole heir of his legacy, he wanted her to find a man that would be there for her forever and not someone so much older that she'd have to spend her older years all alone with a broken heart.
He still needed Daemon to be here and guide you but as a mentor only and probably as an uncle that he was supposed to be.
As you clutched onto him and cried he just held onto you and didn't say a word, he waited for you to speak to him because he'd have done whatever you wanted, in that moment all that mattered to him were your wishes. If you wanted to fight for him then he'd have done the same but he'd also support you if you wanted to grant your dying father's wish.
“I can't lose you Daemon, not again, not after the way you have made me feel..I can't lose you.. i love you” you sobbed into his arms as your fingers clutched around the fabric of his silk shirt.
“You won't lose me, I'd be here I promise, no matter what happens I'd be here with you ..i promised that I'd never leave again so I'm going to fulfill that promise”
Your cries only worsened as he said that, he was ready to do whatever you needed even if it brought him pain and misery in return.
“You don't deny a dying man's wish you said”
“Mmmhmm”
“He wants me to end this romantic relationship with you”
“I know”
The look in his eyes was enough to indicate that he understood what you wanted to say to him.
“So that's it then..i should lose you because he wants me to? Isn't it enough for him that I'm losing him that i have to lose you too?” you asked him between your tears so he kissed you softly and longingly because he knew it would be the last time he'd get to touch you like that.
“You won't lose me Pixie, you'd never lose me again”
And he wasn't wrong about that but he wasn't right either, you broke both of your hearts that night and things sped up at the work front.
You were suddenly dropped from the intern position and were made the CEO of your father's empire, a position you weren't prepared for at all, but as promised Daemon was there with you, he was working for you now, under you if put precisely, and though you were higher on the chain he was the one guiding you, he was sticking up for you in every board meeting, he was pushing you to do your best. The nine to ten hours you spent at work somehow didn't feel so grueling when you had Daemon and his comforting presence around you but as soon as you came back home you were hit by the wave of overwhelming sadness and grief.
Sadness regarding your father's deteriorating condition and grief for losing the love of your life.
Daemon wasn't any better, sure he spent most of his time with you but having you so close yet so far was detrimental to him, he couldn't talk to you like he used to before, your relationship became strictly professional with him, sure you two lived in the same mansion but you both avoided bumping into each other to not bring each other even more pain because every time you looked at him you wanted to kiss him and tell him that you missed him more than anything and everytime he looked at you he just wanted to take away all your pain, hold you in his arms and kiss you all night long.
Life had changed so drastically in the past month that you didn't even recognise yourself anymore, it felt as if you had grown ten years in a few weeks and had to bear the responsibilities of your father on your shoulders.
You felt overwhelmed and anxious all the time, Daemon noticed that too so one morning as he knocked on your cabin to get your signature on some papers he noticed how lost you looked, you didn't even read the papers so he put his hand on yours to stop you from signing.
“Rule number one, always read the documents before you sign them” you looked up at him as he said that and as you saw that small soft smile on his face you couldn't hold back your emotions anymore, you broke down in tears immediately.
His smile faltered as well at the sight of you, you were too young and it was too soon for you to handle these responsibilities, sure he was there to help you and your father was doing his best as well but a burden was just that, a burden.
He walked around the desk and placed his palm on your upper back as you sobbed into your hands,
“Get up darling” he mumbled softly so you immediately stood up and hugged him as tightly as you could. This is all you have been doing these days, crying about everything but you felt awful, perhaps you'd have been more driven if your dad had not put that condition on you regarding Daemon because you really needed him especially now that you knew sooner or later you'd lose one of you parents and there was nothing you could have done about it.
“Shhhhh it's all good darling ..you're doing your best, just take deep breaths for me now can you?” He cooed gently and you didn't even need to do that because you felt so much better just by being in his arms
“It's too much ..I don't think I can do this” you looked up at him with your tear filled eyes so he cupped your cheeks and kissed your forehead. He didn't know if you were talking about your professional situation or whether you were hinting towards your broken unfinished relationship with him but he knew he had to uplift you.
“You can do this..I believe in you”
“What if I can't…what if I can't do this” his brows furrowed as you sniffled like a child, his own eyes welled up.
“Then I'll take you far away from here ..all you have to do is ask..that's it” you stopped crying as he said that. You knew that wasn't a choice you could have made, you won't hurt your parents like that, he knew that too, but having an option to opt out of everything and elope with him was nice. Having him put you over anyone was comforting even though you hadn't done the same for him.
“Okayyy..okayyy thank you” you mumbled softly so he smiled and made you sit back down.
Perhaps a good cry in his arms was what you needed to move forward and it worked for a while, sure he wasn't completely yours anymore but you still had his love and you gave him your love in your own ways but then one night as you came back home from work you found the woman you despised so much lounging in your parent's house.
You never wanted to see her again but there she was, hugging the love of your life as if he belonged to her.
💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔
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princessbellecerise · 10 months
Text
Courting Headcanons
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──── ✧*・゚*✭˚・゚✧ ────
summary | Headcanons of what it would be like to have the House of the Dragon characters court you (which is basically dating)
warnings | None
this is a work of fiction. i do not own these characters
divider by @princessbellecerise
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Jacaerys Velaryon
Gentleman
Through and through, he’ll keep things between the two of you gentle yet playful
When he’s courting you, he’ll make sure that he puts his seriousness aside and let you get to really know the man you’re to marry
After all, Jace thinks it’s only fair to not keep secrets from you so you spend a lot of time learning about him: what he likes, dislikes and him you
The two of you will often take walks along the coast of Dragonstone, Jace sometimes even splashing you which causes an all-out war
The two of you will spend hours by the beach just messing around in the water, even if it’s something your parents disapprove of
Nevermind them, Jace will always cover for you and take the blame even if it wasn’t his fault that time
He’ll never do anything to make you uncomfortable or even remotely inappropriate
He’s a gentleman till the day he marries you, always picking you flowers and putting them in your hair. Or, he’ll request his cooks to make your favorite desserts and secretly leave them by your door
You’ll always know it’s him because he’ll leave sweet notes, or sometimes even love letters that make your heart long for him even more
Aemond Targaryen
It’ll be difficult in the beginning, and it’ll take some time before Aemond warms up to you
He’ll definitely be hesitant and will be closed off, but the more that he gets to know you, the more that he’ll open up
Your courtship mainly consists of Aemond taking you to the library, showing you his favorite books and even reading to you
Sometimes, he’ll even take you to the Godswood tree and let you lay your head in his lap while his smooth voices fills your ears
Don’t expect any grand gestures, for it’s the smaller things that’ll let you know he’s starting to care for you
For instance, once Aemond gets more comfortable with you he’ll let you see his humorous side and will even crack a few jokes. He’ll start to initiate your meetings, sometimes showing up in the afternoons to take you on walks around the gardens
Aemond will also let you touch him more. Offering you his arm as you walk, allowing you to hold his hand if you wish
At dinner time, you’ll see the dishes that you love more frequently and it’s all because you happened to mention it once to Aemond
He listens to you very intently even when you think he’s not, and he’ll be eager to please you in any ways he can
Of course, he will also be a gentleman and he won’t try anything with you until your wedding night, making a silent promise to himself that he’ll never be like his brother or treat you any less than you deserve
Lucerys Velaryon
Luke will court you through shy words and blushy gestures
At first, he’ll be beyond nervous but he puts on a brave face when he’s around you. You’ll never know that he’s silently freaking out, wondering if perhaps you hate him or if he’s doing something wrong
He wants to impress you, and he tries so hard to get you to like him. He’ll definitely want to show off his skills in High Valerian or even show you his dragon if it means seeing you smile
If he can, he’ll take you riding on Arrax. Boasting about how his dragon is finally big enough to host two riders, he’ll take you through the skies and will fall in love with the way you marvel at seeing the world from so high up
Since he is heir to Driftmark, he also likes taking you on tours and telling you the history of the land you both will soon rule
Of course, he also can’t resist taking you to the beach and sneaking in a little hand holding while he’s at it
On clear nights, Luke will sneak you out of your room and take you to the highest point of Dragonstone, where together you’ll sit on Arrax’s back and watch the sun go down. You’ll also stay to see the stars, excitedly pointing out constellations to one another and talking about your future together with big, bright grins on your faces
Luke’s favorite part however is when you sometimes sneak a peck on his cheek, causing the boy to blush redder than the scales on Caraxes
Dameon Targaryen
Courting Dameon will be fun
He’s a flirt, so he will forever tease you and crack jokes with you that he passes off as simple humor. Of course, most of these jokes are inappropriate but Daemon just likes seeing you all flustered
He’ll spoil you, that’s for sure. Buying all the finest dresses and jewelry just so he can watch you marvel at it and know you made the right choice by choosing him
He’ll even go a step further and offer you rides on Caraxes, showing you the true might of the house you’ll be marrying into
Of course, Dameon being Daemon will try a few things but if you’re not into it, he’ll let it be until you’re married
In King’s Landing, he likes to sneak you out of the castle and drag you to watch shows or go to markets. Basically anything that’s fun, Daemon will want to do with you
He’s also very touchy with you, loving to show you off by dancing with you at balls and placing his hands a little too low. Just enough to get the gossip going but oh well. By courting Dameon, you’ll have to get used to it
In general he just likes to test how far you’ll let him go to see if you both are truly a good match. And if you’re into it—well, Daemon won’t admit it, but he will enjoy the moments he spends with you
Secretly thanking the gods that he ended up with a partner he wouldn’t mind spending the rest of his life with
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arabellasleopardcoat · 8 months
Note
Hi! For the bingo: Daemon Targaryen & courting?
Mirror (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)
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Warnings: Targaryen reader. Mature situations. Mature language. A bit of angst, incest, and innocence kink.
Summary: Courting. Daemon’s version.
A/N: Everyone who writes Daemon fics has tackled this trope. I missed oneshots so bad.
There was little King Viserys wouldn’t do for his lovely daughters. During your childhood, there were two of everything. Two Septas, two dolls, two play daggers. For as long as you have been alive, there have been efforts made to make things fair.
No doubt, it was the legacy of your mother. Your father was nice enough, but you doubted he had the foresight to try to avoid sibling rivalry. Queen Aemma’s influence had been greatly missed after her passing.
It had been then when the problems between you and Rhaenyra had started. Your relationship had gotten even more rocky when she was named heir. The situation had turned so bad, even your father had noticed. And just as if it were one of his models, he had demanded perfect symmetry in all aspects.
The same rooms. Same number of servants. Same number of dresses you were allowed to own. An even split of your mother’s jewels.
Unfortunately, there were things not even King Viserys could fix. This was one of them, you thought, as you sat on one of the rails of the dragon pit.
Daemon and Rhaenyra race on their dragons in the open sky right above you. They shriek in laughter and shout things in High Valyrian. You are not sure which you resent more. Rhaenyra, for dragging you along with the promise of tending to Syrax or Daemon for interrupting your time with your sister.
It seemed as if all you did was fight now. The occasion where you did not was rare, and so, intrusion on it was not welcome. But at the same time, you can’t help but wonder if Rhaenyra is playing a cruel trick on you, dragging you here so you can see what you are missing.
Despite your best attempts at keeping yourself calm, you can’t help but feel rage bubble up in your throat. Rage, and a deep sense of failure. You had heard even Laena Velaryon, younger than you, had managed to claim a dragon. Was this why your father had chosen Rhaenyra to be heir and not you?
It felt cruel, and hurtful. Not only did your uncle always pay more attention to Rhaenyra, but now you had to watch them do things you couldn’t do. Go where you couldn’t follow, and made you watch them go.
They dismount a few feet away from you. With them, comes all the hassle and fretting of the dragon keepers. Caraxes always takes a long time to settle after going flying, and so, you relax in your seat. You hope enough time might go by, they forget about your existence and you can slip out unnoticed. It would save you the embarrassment of having to hear them flirt and tell you everything as if you were a child.
No luck for you today, though. You smell it before you see it. Sweat, leather and the unmistakable stink of dragon. Your nose scrunches up, and you jump off the railing just in time to avoid your uncle’s ruffling of your hair.
Rhaenyra snickers a little. Despite the dragon ride, she looks as royal and regal as ever. It’s a feat you admire and despise greatly.
“Trying to sneak up on me?” You frown. You don’t need any further embarrassing. Being startled and falling into the mud would have been just the cherry on top.
Daemon ignores you, tugging on your braid.
“No dragon yet?”
“No.” Your answer it’s harsh, and perhaps a bit rude, but this feels as if they are targedly mocking you. Daemon raises his eyebrows, looking on the edge of apologizing, if such a thing it’s even possible for him. Rhaenyra, more used to your moods, just rolls her eyes.
“Let her be, Kepa.” She whispers, as if you are not there. “She is always like this.”
“Pouty?” Daemon tilts your chin up with two fingers. You jerk your head away, glaring daggers at him.
“Bitter.” Rhaenyra speaks, and you glare at her instead. You do not understand why she is so mean, lately. Her being named heir has not done anything good for your relationship, but you had tried your best to play nice. She didn’t seem to care.
“I can hear both of you.” You complain, but they just laugh. Angrily, you stomp off.
You feel too jittery to go back to your chambers. It would make you more angry, if you were to go inside the castle so soon. It’s too pleasant of a day to be spent cooped up at the Red Keep. Too preoccupied with your thoughts, you don’t notice someone is following you.
Your feet lead you to the training yard. It makes sense, in a way. This is where you have been coming the past few months when the castle got too small to house both you and Rhaenyra.
Early in the morning as it is, the yard is empty. Save for your sworn shield, of course. While Rhaenyra had gotten Ser Criston Cole, handsome and dornish, you had gotten Ser Harwin Strong. Riverlander, just as handsome and with a clear infatuation with your sister.
But kind. Unbearably so.
“I figured your meeting with the Princess would not go as planned.” He explains, as he helps you out of your cloak and jewelry. Ser Harwin helps you put on some protective gear before handing you a wooden sword.
He has been teaching you swordplay for the past few months. Not so much for self-defense, but as a way to curb your more violent impulses. When you feel like you might throttle Rhaenyra or perhaps smother her with a pillow, you come to him.
It's good. You have not learned a lot, but there is something utterly satisfying about hitting someone as hard as you can. With wooden swords and against Ser Harwin, you know there is no real possibility of hurting him. He is much taller and stronger than you.
There is also something satisfying about blocking his blows, too. In the smacking sound, in the effort it takes. You understand why men enjoy battle so much, finally. When you walk away, you are always sore and bruised, but your mind is finally quiet.
“I have just resigned myself to an arranged marriage.” You say to Ser Harwin, as you block his sword with great effort. “All the men in the court are panting after her, it’s no use.”
And you do think you are on the right, this time. Too often, you feel overshadowed by her, and seeing your uncle and Ser Harwin on the same day just confirms it. You have no chance at finding true love, not when every man here only has eyes for her.
You didn’t necessarily were a romantic person, but a bit of attention would be nice. Feeling desired and admired in the way Rhaenyra was. They even called her the Realm’s delight, for Gods’s sake.
“Are they after her? Or her tittle?” Ser Harwin tries to disarm you. You hit harder, a low blow aimed to his ribs that he avoids with little effort.
“You tell me.” You pant, a little out of breath. It was something you frequently wondered yourself, but never about him. Ser Harwin clearly wasn’t hoping to be King. What he wanted was something much more carnal. You had seen the way his eyes trailed Rhaenyra’s figure when they were together in a room. He appreciated her personality, perhaps, but he clearly wanted to bed her.
You loved teasing him about it. For such a big man, he could sure get sheepish.
“Fair.” Ser Harwin chuckled, raising his wooden sword again. You liked that he was very good-humored. He didn't mind your teasing. “But think of the bright side. If someone is after you, they are really after you.”
You frowned. He had a point, you supposed. If a man were about to pursue you, it might be because you are a Targaryen, or because of your valyrian looks. But never because of the Iron Throne. With baby Aegon existence, you are certain that whatever your place in the succession line is, plenty of people would have to die for you to even have a weak claim to it.
“Wise words for one so young.” The voice startles both of you. As if you were children caught with their hands in the cookie jar, you freeze. Ser Harwin even drops his wooden sword. “You should heed your knight, niece.”
“Uncle.” You answer, casually. You know Daemon. If he senses weakness, he is going to pounce. While Ser Harwin has given away already that you are not exactly doing something your father approves off, you are not going to have your Uncle thinking he has something to blackmail you with.
Daemon ignores you, choosing to attack the weak link. He tuts at Harwin.
“Poor form. And a poor trainer. Leave us.”
Harwin hesitates. He is not supposed to leave you alone and unprotected. Much less, with your uncle. Daemon it’s not known for his trustworthiness.
“With all due respect, Prince Daemon, I am not allowed…”
“Leave us, boy.” Daemon’s tone turns harsher. Channeling all the authority he has as a Prince. Now, your sworn shield can’t refuse. It’s an order, not a suggestion. But Harwin remains where he is, looking to you for approval.
Your uncle’s eyes flash dangerously at the defiance. You look at Harwin and nod. He leaves.
You twirl your wooden sword. Daemon smirks.
“Commendable.” He gives a slow clap. “Very loyal guard dog, you have there.”
“You could learn a thing or two.” You answer, vicious. The human equivalent of an animal biting down and refusing to release its jaws. By the brief look of hurt on his face, you have touched a nerve.
But soon, his expression smooths down into a vicious little smile, to match yours.
“So this is where you have been disappearing to.”
“So?” You ask, all nonchalance.
“Feisty.” Your uncle kicks Harwin’s discarded wooden sword away and unsheathes his. Whatever this is, it’s long overdone, you realize. You are bouncing with pent-up anger and frustration.
Daemon strikes at you, hard. The flat side of his sword hits your ribs. It hurts even with the protections Harwin makes you wear, a dull sting on your torso.
“If this was a real fight, you would be dead.” His tone is smug. You cannot take it, and so, bang your wooden sword against his hip.
“And you would be unable to walk.”
Your uncle laughs, coldly. He is angry too, you realize. In that messy way he gets, sometimes. Teeth bared in a cocky grin, still high on the thrill of riding Caraxes and chasing Rhaenyra.
Despite your best attempts, you are no match for him. He is a seasoned warrior. He has been at war for the last couple of years. No amount of anger can match his technique. Soon, he has you disarmed and cornered, Dark Sister at your throat.
“Not bad. I might even bruise.” His tone drips condescension, but there is something odd going on in his face. His pupils are blown, his chest is heaving, and there is no way it’s with exertion. While you were panting and begging for a respite, Daemon hadn’t even worked up a sweat. “You need a real sword.”
“Perhaps. But then Rhaenyra gets one, and this is only mine.” It’s more honest than you would like, but you are still trying to decipherate what exactly he is feeling. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes glassy. You feel confused.
“Is that why you want a husband? To have someone only yours?” Daemon suddenly is much closer, twirling the end of your braid between his fingers.
You scoff, and push him away.
“That’s none of your concern.”
You storm inside the Red Keep, scowling. Finally, it seemed, Daemon and Rhaenyra had managed to run you off the castle’s grounds.
The encounter is barely given a second thought. You decide to keep yourself busy for the rest of Daemon’s visit to King’s Landing. Knowing him, he is due to get exiled soon. There is no point in worrying about it.
You fill up your days with activities, be it harassing some tutors, your Septa, or even visiting orphaned children in King’s Landing. That activity is one you and Ser Harwin particularly enjoy. It fills you with joy when you get to run around and play in the mud with your stern guard having no choice but to tag along. You have even caught him smiling when little girls ask to braid his hair.
Things are surprisingly calm. You would have expected your uncle to be involved in a scandal by now. Yet, there are no rumors of him bedding three whores in one sitting, nor there is an irate Otto Hightower asking your father to send him away.
Until one night, you find a jeweled sword resting on your bed. It’s small, but you can tell from the sharpness of the blade that it is made from Valyrian steel. You start training with it the next day, getting used to its weight. If Ser Harwin thinks anything of your sudden interest in doing more than hitting him, he doesn’t show it.
You are not surprised to find your Uncle waiting for you after your morning practice. At first glance, the courtyard is as empty as when you began your training. Despite it, you can’t shake the feeling that someone is watching.
Just as you are entering the Red Keep, sweaty and ready for a bath, Daemon steps out from the shadows.
“You look so grown up in riding attire.” He says, from beneath some trees. “Almost didn’t recognize you.”
“Almost didn’t recognize you, either. No scandal in nearly a month?” You start to loosen your braid, accelerating the process of getting into your bath as you walk. There is nothing you want more than to just soak in hot water and let the warmth wash away your soreness. “You must be getting old.”
“Youthfulness is in the spirit.” Daemons hurries to reach you, falling into step right beside you. You resist the urge to walk faster if only to see him struggle. Power play. Always. Push, and pull, and don’t let anyone else get the upper hand.
“Ah, that makes sense.” You slow down your steps because while you enjoy angering your uncle, you would rather not anger him too much. “You have the spirit of a child.”
“I’ll take that as the highest of compliments.” Daemon ruffles your hair, uncaring that’s matted in sweat. You make a face. “Did you like your gift?”
“Depends.” You give him a feral little grin. Your uncle looks at you, as if deciding whether he wants to bite or not. Knowing him as you do, you know he can’t stand the intrigue.
“On what?”
“How many of Rhaenyra’s necklaces you had to melt to get the sword.”
“That blade is worth at least five of her necklaces.” Daemon boasts. You give him an unimpressed look.
“Huh. Then I like it.”
“Not love it?”
“It wasn’t ten.” And with a cheeky grin, you are off towards your chambers.
You don’t see Daemon for a few days. You hear him, unfortunately. He is everywhere at once, yet never wherever you are. You know of him in the shape of rumors and hearsay.
When you go fetch yourself a tea tray in the kitchen, your uncle is in the middle of the servants. “I heard last night he was with four whores!” As you ask a maid about your sister’s whereabouts, he is her chosen companion. “Princess Rhaenyra went out to race your uncle, Princess.” And of course, when your father complains, Daemon is in the midst of it. “He insulted Otto and then walked out of the council meeting.”
Despite your wishes, your uncle starts to occupy more of your mind’s space than you would like. You keep wondering what he is up to, each rumor more outrageous than the last. You cannot help but wonder if it’s you who was prompted him to wreak such havoc. The idea of having such power over him, that an offhanded comment can cause such a reaction, makes something tingle in your stomach.
You find him next in the gardens. Alicent and Rhaenyra are fighting again, a nasty thing that soon turns into a screaming match. That's a dynamic you have stayed out of, since you had memory. While Alicent and Rhaenyra were friends, you never felt anything towards Alicent besides a slight sympathy. She seemed nice enough, but she was not your friend.
Rhaenyra and you loved in the same way, you see. Possessive, harsh. As Princesses, you never learned to share. You wanted your person to be only yours. Alicent was Rhenyra’s, and so, you stepped aside.
When she married your father, you weren’t exactly pleased. But you had the emotional detachment Rhenyra lacked, being too close to the situation. In time, you had come to understand that it wasn’t like she had a choice, either.
So, it wasn’t like you were going to break with tradition now. To avoid their screams, you had decided to pace the gardens. Daemon seemed to have the same idea because you find him sitting on a bench with a book in his hands.
“Came to join me?” He asks, voice smooth like honey.
“Rather to escape the screeching.” You sit by his side, curiously peering at the book he holds.
“A Cautionary Tale For Young Girls.” Daemon’s smirk is the only thing that gives him away, that, and the fact that the book is written in High Valyrian. “Most illuminating read. You should try it.”
You laugh, despite yourself. His lips twitch into a more genuine smile, less full of smugness and bravado.
“I was getting lonely.” You say, softly. The admission surprises even you. “You are with Rhaenyra all the time.”
Don’t go where I can’t follow, you wish to say. Don’t take her from me. My other half. But you don’t speak the words aloud, from fear of him repeating your confession. You don’t want to beg Rhaenyra for affection, not when you have been competing with her all your life.
Daemon makes a face, as if pained of what he will say next. He seems wary of hurting you. You wonder if that means he cares for you, in his own twisted way. It’s not often he worries about what others think.
“She has a dragon.” No matter how gentle the tone, it hurts anyway.
“I miss her. Not you.” But it’s a lie. You know it’s a bad pattern, and you shouldn’t miss him, but you are so used to competing for affection that Daemon has become both your rival and the one you crave. The weeks without him have been lonely and taxing. No matter if it was you who pushed him away and didn’t care to reach out after.
“I remember you two were close.” Something must change in your face because your uncle reaches toward you, gently squeezing your arm.
“We used to be. She is just… So angry, all the time. And has all these new people. Admires, prospects…” You feel like a fool. There is a deep sense of unfulfillment and being wronged yet at the same time, you know you are being unreasonable. This was always going to happen. You can’t share the Iron Throne, and she has always been your father’s favorite. Rhaenyra was always going to be the heir.
“Which one am I?”
You shrug.
“It's not like I care.” But you do. You do care, despite your best sense. Because you want to be his favorite. You have always wanted to be someone’s favorite, but Daemon has a special brand of devotion for those he cares about. You wish you could be counted on that list, lately. By the smile on his face, Daemon can probably tell. “And it's not like before she didn't have things that were only hers.”
"I thought you shared everything.” Your uncle tucks a loose piece of your hair behind your ear. You lean into the touch, closing your eyes.
“She has Alicent. Had. Still does.” You know when the time comes, Alicent will be there for Rhaenyra. They are tied together by destiny in ways Rhaenyra and you are not.
“The curse of the younger brother.” With your eyes still closed, his hand gently brushing your hair back, the words do not feel as if they are being spoken aloud. The gardens around you feel muffled, distant. Perhaps it’s the soothing touch, or the deep pang of sadness in your chest, but you do not understand what Daemon means.
“I beg your pardon?” You open your eyes, giving him a confused expression. Not only is he muttering nonsense, your uncle is much closer to you than he was before. Daemon’s forehead is nearly pressed into yours, his thumb now gently rubbing across your jawline.
“Viserys and Rhaenyra are the same.” He explains, tracing your cheekbone next. As if he is keen to learn your face from touch alone, carve it on his mind. It makes you smile slightly. The pain from mourning your innocence is very much still there, but it doesn’t feel like it’s tearing you apart. “Just as you and I are the same.”
“I…” You are not sure of what to answer. Naturally, it makes sense. You can feel it in your bones, but you can’t quite articulate the thought.
Daemon’s thumb presses against your lips in a downward motion, closing them.
“We could fly off tonight. Go to the Free cities, marry. No one would care.” His tone is fervent, urgent. Pleading with you. You keep quiet, and so does he. The silence stretches between the two of you. Your mind races.
Just as your lips flutter behind his thumb to answer the proposal, your uncle speaks again.
“We are free, you and I. But the Iron Throne chains them.”
It’s then you realize it was not a proposition, but rather an explanation of the thoughts you were unable to articulate. And perhaps it’s the sting of rejection or the deep sadness that has taken root on you since the death of your mother, but you cannot keep the words in. They come flowing, tumbling, rushing out of your mouth.
“I want to be a girl forever.” You say to him, starting to tear up. “I am not ready to be a woman.”
You are scared, you realize. No longer are you a girl playing to be a woman, dressing up in your mother’s jewels and dresses. Five years down the line, you will be married. Ten, it will be you who is a mother.
Your uncle gathers you into his arms, painfully soft. You would have never believed Daemon capable of such a tender touch.
“You can’t be innocent forever.”
“Everything is so complicated now. I just… I don’t want anything to change.”
You whisper against his neck. It’s a doomed wish. You know already it’s too late for it. No longer are you an innocent, no longer anything is the same. It will never be.
“Not all changes are bad. There can be pleasure in losing one’s innocence.” Daemon kisses your temple. “And I intend to show it to you.”
That night, the two of you sneak out of the Red Keep.
“I wanted to give you something only yours.” Your uncle says, as he leads you down the Street of Silk. Both of you are wearing rough cloaks, for discretion. You cling to his arm, afraid of getting lost in between the strange sights and smells.
There is so much to see and so much to hear. People laughing in the streets, singing, drunkards and patrons from the brothels mixing. While you are familiar with the streets of King’s Landing, you have never seen them at night. It’s both frightening and exhilarating, watching the city come to life in ways new to you.
There are no children in sight, only adults. The message that Daemon hoped to convey by bringing you here is loud and clear. You are no longer a girl, you are a woman. And so, instead of sleeping soundly in your bed as you have done all your childhood, you get to enjoy the wonders of the night.
The crowd gets even more rowdy as you pass the bigger pleasure houses and walk towards the ones that are at the end of the street. Secluded as they are, they spark your curiosity.
“Where are we going?” You ask your uncle, tugging at his arm. “Inside one of those? Why?”
“They cater to tastes that the rest do not.” Daemon comes to a stop in front of one, and takes off his hood. The woman at the doors takes one look at his hair and quickly ushers you both inside a room.
The room is bare except for a couple of chairs and a bed. You examine everything closely, noting the inferior quality of the furniture. These are not the kinds of chairs you are used to, at the Red Keep. After a while, and only when you notice no one else is hiding inside, you lower your hood. Being overly cautious never hurt anyone, after all.
“What tastes?” You squeeze Daemon’s hand. He gives you a puzzled look. “You said they cater to tastes…”
“You will see.” You are saved from the wait to know what he means by the door opening. Two servants, dressed in little clothing, step inside. Men, near your age. They are completely unique, yet similar. You get the feeling they are not simple servants, even though they serve you and Daemon goblets of wine.
You stare. You do not understand why they are not leaving.
Your uncle steps behind you, to whisper in your ear. His arms circle around your waist.
“Look at them.” He presses a chaste kiss just behind your ear. “Really look.”
So you do. One of the men is tall and strong. Almost wide. All bulging muscles. He has dark hair and light colored eyes. The other man is slightly slender, yet strong either way. He has lighter hair and a much sweeter face. They are both handsome, yet you do not understand what game Daemon could be playing.
“You wanted something only yours.” He mutters, kissing the crown of your head. He perches his chin on top of it. “Most girls, they don’t get to choose whom they lose their innocence to.”
It dawns on you then. He wants you to choose one of the men to… Well. It’s a nice thing to do, but so undeniably Daemon it hurts.
Feeling mischievous, you turn around in his grip.
“And I can choose any of the men in this room?” You smirk. Your uncle’s brows draw together, in disbelief.
“That’s the point, yes.” Daemon speaks slowly, as if explaining to someone particularly daft. Or innocent. “I’ll pay for it, don’t worry.”
“Good.” You smirk, and kiss him. You feel him smirk right back against your mouth.
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saltywritings · 2 years
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(in the still of the night | aemond targaryen x strong! reader)
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summary: the reader and aemond reconnect at the red keep after years of being apart. it is here the both of you reconnect with the reemerging memories of when the both of you were young. memories in italics.
warnings: mentions of death and murder, betrothal, sexual tension but no smut, yet. cursing?
word count: 3,835 words.
authors note: i do hope you enjoy reading this as much as i have had writing it. please consider reblogging or leaving a comment if you do enjoy. if this does well i will make a second part that will be absolutely filthy.
it was odd to you. the memories that flooded to you so clearly as you walked down the halls of the castle. eyes catching the stained glass windows of dragons, carefully moving up the stone steps as you did as a child. you remembered all the times you tripped down them, bruising your knees chasing after the young prince's. you remembered of how you ran down the halls hiding from them. you remembered sneaking out at night to the kitchens and eating cakes in the gardens under the light of the moon with aemond until your eldest brother dragged you back to your chambers.
yet, it was now as you remembered how close you and aemond had been as children. your eyes catching the garden from within the castle walls.
"y/n! y/n, wait up." aemond's voice rang in your head. nothing more than just a whisper as the two of your crept through the halls. aemond in his sleep shirt and you in your nightgown. if the two of you had not been children the situation would have been frowned upon, heavily. for you more than him considering your status as a lady.
you bare feet slowed as you looked behind you. waiting for an out of breath aemond to catch up. the targaryen prince had been holding a napkin, the cloth tied shut, and his fist holding the knot tightly. aemond took your hand in his own once he reached you, pulling you with him now through the halls and into the gardens. your feet ran against the soft grass and under the godswood. you sat beside the prince, as your little fingers fumbled with the tight knot. aemond helped you untie it and slid himself closer to you. the both of you side by side and your little fingers were pinching at the lemon cake.
"i stole this at dinner," aemond informed you as he shoved some of the cake in his mouth.
"did anyone see you?" you questioned softly, filling your own mouth as you did.
"just aegon-" aemond stopped himself. the boy remembered of how aegon called him a pig for taking more. though, he knew not of the nights that he shared with you, and aemond simply told his older brother to fuck off. "but he doesn't know." aemond assured you.
"good, your brother likes to make the worst of everything. doesn't he?" you remarked rather casually- but aemond had stopped eating. your dark eyes looking up now with regret in your own words. you had known how his brother and his nephews would torment him. aemond told you, here in the gardens, when the both of you were alone. "aemond-" your voice soft, your hand going to meet his again to comfort him.
what little comfort you felt you could offer. you hadn't known it now, but it was the only comfort aemond had ever known.
"it would be different if i too had a dragon." aemond defended himself, his eyes saddened and he looked down to his lap.
"dragons aren't everything, aemond. i don't have a dragon and i'm-" you were trying to comfort him, but the boy was quick to snap again.
"you wouldn't understand y/n- you're just a strong." aemond snapped at you. you closed your mouth and looked away, aemond quickly realizing his mistake in snapping at you and his hands grabbed at yours again. "no, no, y/n. i'm sorry. i didn't mean it in that way" he pleaded with you. his voice near begging you to turn to look at him. his fingers placed at your jaw as you turned to meet his eyes. "i'm a targaryen. we're dragon riders; all of them are but me. and- and its not fair" aemond eventually crumbled. you recalled as tears had begun to run from his eyes. aemond fell into your arms and wept.
"i'm sorry, aemond. i am." you whispered in an attempt to comfort him. your arms wrapped around the crying boy and help him close, he would sniffle and eventually pulled himself together.
"i wish i could take you on dragon back with me. so that way you would understand." aemond pleaded.
"maybe one day you will," you smiled to him and aemond smiled back to you at the very thought.
the sweet moment between the two of you was short lived, as your eldest brother harwin came storming into the garden. you barely had a moment to scramble to your feet before he grabbed onto your arm.
"y/n, how many times have i told you not to be sneaking out with the prince after dark?" harwin questioned you. your face went pale as his dark eyes peered into your own. "keep this up and i'll tell father you need to go back home. to harrenhal." he threatened. you began to resist him, began to plead, but aemond would have none of this.
"ser harwin strong. you will let lady y/n go. your prince demands it." aemond's voice was weak but he knew what to say. harwin, however, looked to the boy debating on what to do. "unhand her or i will tell my mother what you've done here on this night" aemond threatened again.,
harwin let go of your arm in a bit of a gruff, "the king wants the both of you in bed. go on your way or i will tell father, y/n." he demanded. the two of you would run off to your own chambers. but it was far from the last time the both of you had snuck out.
you were only a babe when your father brought you with him to the red keep. his first daughter, the product of his third wife. lyonel strong the newly appointed hand of the king had hoped that the court of the red keep would raise his daughter well. that you would grow in the mannerisms of a lady. lyonel thought this was be good for you. but if he had known of what was to happen he would have never allowed your mother to carry you past the door.
it was there in the red keep that you were raised closely with the kings own children as well as the princess's sons. the seven of you were only children, but even then the tensions had grown. even though you were only a girl you could see it. though, the turmoil's of your life had made you long forget the ones held at the court of the red keep.
your eyes stared at the godswood, reminiscing when you hear someone summon you.
"lady tyrell, it has been too long since you've last visited the red keep." you heard a voice call from behind you, lady tyrell a name you never really adjusted too. behind you was the sight of the queen.
"you grace," you bowed before her, queen alicent. "that it has been," you smiled to her softly.
"you're not with your husband?" she questioned you, her own hands brought together.
"no. lord tyrell is resting from the journey. he does not do well in far travels. even in the carriage." you insisted, giving her a smile to which alicent nodded in understanding.
"well, i do hope you get the chance to properly visit with aemond while you're here. i recall the two of you were good friends all those years ago." alicent spoke very matter of fact, but the mention of aemond was enough to make you smile.
"yes. i recall the same," you hummed. "where is the prince? i do hope our paths may cross before I retire with my husband." you questioned alicent who could not resist the smile that fell on her pale lips.
"aemond? he's off with vhagar, of course." alicent was practically musing.
you never got the privilege to see aemond on a dragon. you heard word at high garden when prince aemond lost his eyes. when he claimed vhagar as his dragon. there had never been a smile on your face like the one you had that day. though, you wished the letter would have been from aemond. for reasons that seemed obvious now aemond never wrote to you and you were never allowed to write to him.
perhaps it had been more obvious to everyone, but the both of you that the two of you were smitten over each other at a young age. perhaps it was the fact you were children, or perhaps it was that each of you lacked the confidence, but neither of you were able to see it yourself. aegon would constantly berate aemond every time he looked longingly in your direction. "can't you be more obvious? looking at y/n like she's a dragon. like looking at things you'll never have?" aegon would taunt constantly. he would get close to you. his hands wrapping around yours as you played just to bother his brother.
but you had never seen it. now, you could look back on your time together and the feeling in your chest grew warm. though the feeling was quickly snuffed out by the reminder of your station. a married woman. your husband was many years your successor and the two of you were yet to conceive a child after all these years together. your marriage to him felt like torture as the years passed on. he was never specifically cruel or vile towards you, not in the way that you heard stories of men hitting their wives or calling them names. but there had been no love in your marriage and you knew that you never would come to love him. for when you looked into his eyes all you could feel was loss. perhaps things could have been different had your father not betrothed you so young.
even that night as you laid next to your sleeping husband under the canopy you were unable to find sleep. you had hoped the journey would be enough to make you rest and yet? your eyes continued to look at the black silk of the canopy curtains. you stood from the bed, pulling on a robe to cover your nightgown, and quietly left the bedroom chambers. you walked along the torches through the halls you would sneak around when you were a child. there was an uneasiness about walking amongst the castle this late. part of you worried that harwin would be around the corner ready to scream at you to go back to your chambers. another part of you feared your own father may come to question why you were out of bed. though, you reminded yourself that was not possible. if anyone were to come for you here it would be larys. your last brother. the one who summoned you and your husband to the red keep in the first place.
it was a cruel thought to think. but you often thought of what your life would have become if your father would have died after your betrothal. if larys would have allowed you to stay there, with him at the red keep. it was a bitter thought. wishing he had been dead sooner, and yet? you thought it often. you didn't want to. in fact you tried not to think of nothing at all. your feet reached the open gardens and you paid no mind to the bitter air that attacked your exposed skin. you tried to look at the godswood, at the flowers in the moon light. anything to not think about your father or harwin. however, at the red keep again the thoughts felt impossible to keep away. you could not begin but to remember of how you cried the day that you found out your father had betrothed you after lord tyrell's first wife had passed. you went crying from the room after begging him and pleading with him to change his mind. to reconsider. but your father had made his decision. he promised you that one day you would thank him for the position he arranged for you. a chuckled slipped your lips, wondering if the time to be thankful would ever come.
"still sneaking away from your chambers at night?" the voice mused on. it was familiar and you could not help the smile that flooded to your lips as your turned around to see behind. before you stood aemond targaryen. taller than you remembered, leaner, his hair long and a patch covering his eye. he had been dressed in black, from head to toe. aemond did not look as you remembered him to look. though you were sure you did not look as he had remembered you either. still, the both of you smiled to one another.
"aemond-" you cheered gleefully. you were quick to rush into his arms. it was not proper of either of you. both knowing anyone could see, that neither of you respected the formalities. that the two of you now stood in the gardens as you did when you were children. his arms wrapped tightly around the frame of your body and your face nuzzled into his chest. you would hold one another for longer than two friends should before creating distance again. you looked up at aemond's face and his eye had been on you and only you. "you've grown-" you remarked, the smile not fading from your lips.
"as have you, y/n" aemond spoke. he reached out, carefully. taking your hand in his own and beginning to pull you along with him gently. "come on, y/n. there's something i want to show you." aemond instructed you. there was a small part of you that knew you shouldn't go with him. that you were a married lady in her night clothes with nothing but a robe to keep your modesty. though you followed aemond, without a second thought. despite what you knew you did not hesitate as aemond led you through the castle and you blindly followed him through the red keep. down the castle stairs and outside beyond the castle walls.
"should we be here, aemond?" you questioned following him blindly into the dark.
"if i told you we weren't would you turn back?" aemond did not as much as look to you he only continued walking.
"never" you confessed.
"then, no. we shouldn't. but i've been waiting years to show you vhagar" aemond continued to lead you through the field but it was easy to see her. the sight of her was near frightening to you. involuntarily your body moved closer to aemond's, the sight of her was frightening, but aemond could not help but to smile as he watched you cower. "it's okay. she won't hurt you when you're with me. i swear it." he reassured you as he approached vhagar.
your eyes took in the dragon before you and aemond was quick to move to the netting that hung from her side. one of his hands gripping onto it as he once again pulled you close to him. "you trust me, don't do you?" aemond questioned his hand bringing yours to the rope.
"yes," you confessed near breathless. it was now that aemond helped you up the dragon's side. him behind you, arms wrapped around grabbing onto the net, as he helped you climb her. when finally up, one of his hands gently held your waist get onto the saddle. aemond quickly pulled himself behind you. both of his hands pulling you from behind in a way that your back was against his chest and his arms were wrapped around your torso as he grabbed the reigns of the dragon. this was the moment that aemond has always wanted to show you, and as vhagar took off he could not contain the smile that made his way to his face as he watched your first ride on a dragon. aemond would take you flying on vhagar, the wind in your hair as you screamed with joy. your robe no longer tied as aemond kept his arms wrapped around you tightly. where aemond took you was unrecognizable to you now. some distant place from kingslanding; perhaps you knew it when you were a child but you had known it no longer now. aemond was quiet at the two of you sat on the ground. his arms were still wrapped around yours and his eye had been looking to you.
"i have missed you, here. y/n . . . " aemond confessed as your eyes looked up to meet his. a soft smile glowing on your lips.
"as i have missed you, my prince" you cooed to him softly, sitting up so that the two of you could be face to face. there was a silence that followed. a feeling that did not go away and it strained your chest and weakened your legs. you felt it when he looked at you the way he did now. aemond's hand cradled your face, pulling you close to him by your jaw, and without asking he pressed his lips onto yours. you kissed him back, your soft subtle lips that fought against his own. his hand grabbing onto the neckline of your nightgown as he begun to pull at it, exposing the skin of your shoulder. the sudden feeling of your duty flooding you through the mess of passionate kisses the two of you were ingulfed in.
"wait, wait- aemond we shouldn't do this." you attempted to stop what was unfolding before you. aemond kissed you again, and once again you kissed him back. your eyes closed before pulling yourself from his lips again. a nearly impossible task. "no, aemond. i'm married. i have a husband-" you pleaded.
the very mention of your husband was enough to make his blood boil. his face went cold for a moment as aemond remembered when he had found out about your betrothal. you were only given a day to pack your belongings and leave for high garden.
aemond remembered how your father had pulled his sobbing daughter away from the prince. he too had been in tears at the announcement. it was the last time he had seen you. being dragged by your father as you sobbed. the image of you in tears stuck in his mind as the years passed. you hadn't known this; your father never told you, and aemond never got the chance to, but the moment your father dragged you away aemond went running in tears to his mother. the youngest born prince burst into her room and ran to her. alicent's arms opened immediately and frantically.
"what is it? what happened, aemond? tell me-" alicent went frantic. she had never seen aemond so upset before and she worried that someone had been hurt.
"he betrothed her- y/n. lynoel strong. he betrothed her to the lord of high garden. he- he-" aemond was sobbing and alicent's arms were quick to wrap around her son. she had known what everyone around the castle had known. if anything she was waiting for this day to come and she rubbed her sons back as he wept into her chest.
"oh, aemond." alicent sighed. the queen paused attempting to gather some kind of comfort for her youngest son. "there comes a time in every young girls life when she must be betrothed. to become a wife." alicent begun to give her speech but aemond begun to push her back his face now red and flushed with anger.
"mother. no- i'm not upset about her being betrothed. i just-" aemoond stopped himself for a second before finally letting it out. "she should have been betrothed to me! not some lord of high garden. a rose? we're dragons- why not me?" aemond was sobbing again. "is it because i'm not the first born son?" he questioned tears in his eyes again. "is it because i don't have a dragon?" aemond wept again.
"no no, aemond. that's not why, darling" alicent quickly tried to scoop up her son, but he pushed her away the moment she came in contact with him. "aemond, please- i know she is your friend-" alicent hardly got a chance to get her words out before aemond interrupted her again.
"she's not just my friend." aemond spoke up, feeling a need to make his message clear on how important this was to him. "she's the only person in this whole bloody castle who treats me like i'm not wrothless." aemond spat out through his own sobs. alicent looked with sympathetic eyes. unsure what she had the power to do and in turn, she caved.
"i will offer lord strong a marriage proposal for her hand in place of lord tyrell. do you understand?" alicent attempted to clean her son's face. aemond would nod finally accepting his mothers arms again.
alicent would make the proposal to lynoel strong. y/n strong and prince aemond targaryen, to be wed in a few years time. but your father denied it without consideration. he did not waiver. he did not even give her a reasonable doubt. instead, lynoel sent you away to high garden and you watched, weeping out of a carriage window unaware that aemond was even an option for you. aemond, however, had known that some day you would return to him. if it were by the hands of the gods or his own hand.
now you were in his arms and there had only been one problem. your husband. something aemond thought about long before you arrived. "y/n. your husbands dead-" aemond informed you, he did not waiver. not once as he spoke. a look of confusion consumed your features.
"aemond . . ." you trailed off in your own confusion. "what are you talking about?" you questioned him brows furrowed together.
"he's gone, y/n. dead. that fat fool was smothered in his bed." aemond informed you without mercy. without remorse. still you looked at him in confusion, horror- unsure on how to process what aemond was saying to you.
"aemond. did you- did you have my husband killed?" you asked bluntly. there had been no mannerism that could have asked what you were asking him now. what you had already known. aemond smiled.
"obviously. hadn't you wondered why larys requested that the both of you come to kings landing? come on, y/n. i know after all these years at high garden you haven't become daft. i never stopped thinking about you." aemond confessed, his hand returned to your jaw and gently pulled you in closer to him. eye to eye, nose to nose. "even the largest dragon in the world could not fill the hole that you left behind." he confessed, his breath hot on your face.
"say you'll marry me. we'll set things right. say you'll marry me and be my wife. marry me and carry my heirs. say it, y/n." aemond was practically pleading with you. but the pleading had not been necessary. aemond had you wrapped around his finger.
"i'll marry you-"
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i was reading your fics, and was reading one where daemon is going up against cregan a little bit. i got this idea, cregan giving the reader a direwolf puppy as a gift. daemon makes a snide comment about it and cregan just turns to him, telling him that your enjoying your new pet, and who knows, maybe one day cregan will give you puppies.
daemon seethes as cregan walks away, acting as if he didn't just imply he was gonna breed you.
Puppy Love
Daemon Targaryen x Reader + Cregan Stark x Reader
Summary: Ever since you came of age, you became the jewel of the court and your father turned down proposal after proposal, knowing if the man didn't want your massive dowry, they wanted to claim and corrupt your beauty and kind nature. And the only reason why your father hasn't chewed up the all too friendly dragon prince, was because he was doing most of his job for him. And anyway, your father knew you were too kind to think his attentions to you were anything more than friendly.
Word Count: 2k+
Warnings: Fem!reader, 'too kind' reader, jealous!daemon, smitten!cregan, fluff, typos, etc.
A/N: first of all, i have written quite a few fics were I've added cregan as uh an opponent for daemon so HAHHAH im not sure which one you mean, though I have an inkling it's Wish I Was Her (this is not a p2 of this btw) second of all, /: cregan dumb for giving away a direwolf to some rando dafaq. third of all, i really want do a take on a 'traditionally feminine reader' since i normally dont do that lol so im tryna make reader fit the period more, without making her a damsel in distress. wish me luck Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony
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You straighten the brown paper in one hand while you fiddle with the wax seal that was on it moments ago. You snort through your nostrils, beaming at the ink on the the letter, eager to both reach the end of the page, and not wanting the words to end at all.
Daemon, who had been walking with purpose, forgets where he was going along the way when he spots you. You, the giggling lady, sat comfortably on the stone blocks that separated the garden and the hall.
The prince's stoic demeanor melts into an expression similar to yours when you smile at what you were reading. What were you reading? A letter? A letter from-
Quickly, the realization of what kind of letters a lady such as yourself would be receiving that would cause you to giggle like that makes his expression splat into annoyance.
With twice as much purpose, he struts over to you and calls out your name. You immediately avert your gaze, smile widening at the sight of him.
Good.
"My prince," you speak, bowing your head just as Daemon reaches you.
Daemon raises his brows and drops his lips, eyeing the paper in your hand, "a good read?"
You release a chuckle at the expression he pulls, "a very good read. I say Alaric is as good with the quill as he," you point to the paper, "harks to me how good he is with the blade."
He grunts, "Alaric." Where has he heard that tatty name before?
You chuckle as you watch Daemon stiffen. He places his hands behind him, slowly walking to the other side of the block you were sat on, sitting there across you, "which moronic suitor is he again?"
You drop your letter on your lap, tilting your head at the fuming prince, who now had his arms crossed. "Alaric," you start with a chuckle, "is my darling cousin, Anna's, son."
Ahh, Daemon blinks, that's why his name is familiar.
You snort, "he has merely just turned ten and one, your grace."
He clears his throat.
"Do you not recall rejecting my offer to attend the boy's nameday?" you speak through an amused grin.
"I've never cared for namedays," he trails off, crossing his arms.
You laugh. He turns to you because of it. How could he not when your laugh was like that? Your being beams in amusement, glowing like a star. It makes the prince emit a soft chuckle.
"If I didn't know any better," you say in between catching your breath, "I'd you were jealous of a child, my prince."
You catch the small smile on Daemon's face as he pretends to be offended, "and I'd say you've been reading too much."
Very suddenly, you gasp and point at him, making him pull his head back and his expression drop. His concern drops when you say, "is that a blush I see? Ooh!"
Daemon's arms loosen at your words. As if eager to make your words true, he begins to feel his body burn. Damn body.
You gasp the second time before throwing your head back in laughter, "I do say," you sigh, "scarlet suits you well."
Daemon rolls his eyes and shakes his head as he stands from his spot.
"Well, I mean, it is one of the colors of your house."
"Yes," he drops his hands to the side and walks over to you, "and I should well ought to make it your own."
And though Daemon smirks when he says this, your brows furrow at the thought. His vanilla baby.
"It would be pointless to try and convince my father to change anything about our house."
He sighs as you refold your paper, trapping a waxen seal in its center, and move to stand next to him, "in our actual house, I had to argue with him to change our drapes."
"No," Daemon says in shock, as if he actually cared.
"Yes!" you shake your head, "it was terrible! I had to remind him that I was now the woman of the house."
"Oh, that does sound terrible," Daemon huffs, eyes widening. He watches you as you believe in his empathy. He watches as you smile at his disingenuous words. Two beasts rip at him from within.
Normally, naïveté and slow-wittedness were traits that repelled him, especially in its womanly form, as it was drawn from the sheltered nature ladies like yourself were bred into. The dragon in him found this dull and all too conforming. He liked the burn from the whores, who would snarl if you took more than what you paid for.
Yet this personal brand of innocent on you was dizzying to him. One beast wanted to protect the purity within you, while the other wanted to taint it until all remained was him.
"And yes-" you take a moment to continue, "those were my mother's beloved drapes but... they had not been changed since her passing."
Daemon presses his lips together when you turn to the ground with a solemn expression. He does not get a moment to share the semblance of comfort in which he was capable of, because you quickly smile at him the way you always do and comfort yourself, "it is good to remember those who have passed, but they would not want for us to mourn them too long."
For once, he responds with honesty, "they would not, no."
The moment you smile at his words, your attention is taken from the prince.
You are called by a servant, who tells you there is a man waiting for you in the main hall. You courteously thank the servant and turn to Daemon, "thank you for ke-"
"I will escort you to your visitor," Daemon smiles, though not a real one.
You return a genuine one nevertheless, "I am grateful, but I do not wish to bother you, nor take up more of the time you already so graciously offered me."
Daemon takes your hand and pulls you near him with little regard, "you dare dictate what I do and do not with my time?"
You press your lips as you body collides with him.
"As though you were my wife?"
You clench your jaw, unintending to overstep, "my prince, I did not mean for it-"
"Yes, well," he cuts you off, "let us meet this moron who wishes to meet you."
"You know," you smile, "it may well not be a suitor."
Daemon chuckles, "I'm surprised you even caught onto that."
"Well, how could I not?" you chuckle, "when you were just jealous a child!"
He loses his smug expression. He scoffs into a chuckle as you laugh at him. "Oh very good," Daemon rolls his eyes and slowly claps his hand, "I'll give you credit. I did not expect that."
But what he very much did expect was that your audience was sought by a suitor; one large, slobbering dog of a suitor.
Very truly, Daemon's grumbling was merited, for why were you so enamored by the wolf-man and this overgrown rat-pup he bought with him?
He scoffs as you coo at the furry creature for the hundredth time, and for what? For doing absolutely nothing but expose its incompetence to walk in a fucking straight line?
And what's more, for every time the degenerate baby wolf toppled over, you tugged at its master's arm and pointed, leaning into him as you laughed and expressed jovial sentiments over the creature.
The prince rolls his eyes from the armchair he was sat on.
What was so impressive about a dog? There were dozens of strays outside the walls. He could get you twenty right now. A dragon egg should have elicited such a response from you, not this.
"Oh, dear Cregan-"
Gods, dear Cregan, she says.
"-your pup is a ray of sunshine on this chilly day," you speak.
Daemon watches you smile angelically at the large man with muddy dark hair and wiry curls. He watches as the cretin bares his teeth at you like a wolf does its prey, and you mistake it for genuinely, as always.
"If you are cold, my lady," Cregan says, removing the brown pelt on his shoulders, "then allow me to warm you."
Daemon straightens where he was slouched.
You recoil at Cregan's generosity, raising your hands as you shake them, "oh, my lord, I could not possibly accept the clothes on your back."
You watch as Cregan's rosy cheeks pull up with his smile, "then would you prefer I give you one your own?"
Cregan put on his fur again. You open your mouth to speak, but it is Daemon's voice that sounds, "she would rather you fuck off back to the North, dog."
You still at Daemon's words, promptly turning to him with a hardened expression of disbelief, "my prince-"
"And you best take your defective animal with you," he adds, grimacing at the wolf-pup chewing at a ball of wound fabric.
"Prince Daemon," you call tersely.
Daemon turns to you, expression unable to melt with the presence of that oaf on your side.
"Please do not speak for me as though your sentiments and mine own are one and the same," you calmly say.
Daemon scoffs. Cregan chuckles.
You turn to Cregan with a guilty expression, "I apologize on the behalf of ill-contrived words against you, Lord Cregan."
"No, you don't," Daemon quips as he stands, "don't fucking-"
"I appreciate your sentiment, my lady," Cregan ignores the whimpers of the lizard prince, "though you needn't worry yourself, for I am not wounded by words from the likes of him."
"The likes of me?" Daemon sneers as he storms over.
You turn to Daemon, suddenly at your side. Your eyes widen at the fury on his features. You hands instinctively come to his arm when he appears as though he is about to lunge at Cregan.
Cregan watches you do this, watches you calm the hot blooded fiend. Part of him burns in a shade green at your shared familiarity, but he is more amused by the fact you turn to him with a concerned look, nonverbally expressing your concerns that you, in fact, to not want him to pound your prince if he attempts anything. And so he laughs.
Cregan laughs and takes a step back, allowing you to step between them and push Daemon away in return.
Daemon's ire is fueled further, "what, you halfbreed?!"
You grunt as you turn back to Cregan, relieved he was smiling and not partaking in the hotheadedness the other man was.
"Did you fuck your wolf yourself to offer the pup to her?"
You recoil at the grotesque notion. You cannot stop yourself from calling out the prince's name in anger and bewilderment, "Daemon!"
Cregan laughs. It draws your attention. You sigh, "Cregan, I beg your par-"
"No!" Daemon barks, peering down at you, "he's come here on the intent of you bearing his pups, girl, and you'd so readily drop on your knees for him?!"
"He's brought one pup, Daemon!" you quip pulling away from him as you shake your head, "and I have no intentions of keeping the little wolf," you turn to Cregan, "for I have no such capabilities nor capacities to care for one!"
Daemon grinds his teeth. You heave.
Good enough.
The prince finds slight catharsis in your words. His anger does not fade however, because Cregan's grin is as wide as ever.
"Actually," Cregan raises his hands casually, "I have spoken to your father about the pup and he said he would accept it, for I am also giving you one of my servants as an aid."
The two men watch as you perk at the idea.
"Oh!," you gasp in disbelief, "so..." you break into a wide smile, "I can keep the wolf?!"
Cregan laughs as he nods, "and even better, you can name it."
Daemon is appalled by your next actions.
You run and throw yourself onto Cregan, sealing him into a hug for a moment before pulling back in realization your actions were most indecent.
Cregan however prevents you from pulling away too far, hands coming to your waist as he smiles down at you. He speaks with a lopsided grin, "I have been meaning to bring you the pup ever since we spoke about my pregnant wolf when you visited me in the North."
When you what?
"Will your dear Luna not mourn the loss of her puppy?"
LUNA?
Cregan chuckles, pulling his hands away from you, not because he wanted to, but because, between the two of them, he was currently the more amicable in your eyes, and he was not about to ruin that, "I assure you, she will fair fine, as she is preoccupied with three more at home."
You frown, stepping back from Cregan to turn to the pup, not at all seeing the twitching face of your prince, "still... I must not let him be forgotten by her mother and likewise."
Cregan smiles at the sentiment, "you have a kind heart, my lady," he takes your hand, "I would be glad to bring my wolves to your home whenever you want."
You are horrified by the notion, "oh please, it would be much better if I came to you."
Cregan nods, lips in a smirk, "I shall await then."
You seemed to be caught off-guard by the fact you unwittingly just made plans with the Stark.
And you had meant to explain you could not simply agree to his offer, but you were distracted by the string of High Valyrian being spewed into the air, paired by the loud sound of the prince marching out of the room.
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