#house of the dragon x black!reader

[hiatuswhore]

ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀꜱʜᴇꜱ

♕ A/N: Writers Block has kicking my ass. Feedback please, it’s a great motivator!!

♕ SUMMARY: A day will come when you think yourself safe and happy, and suddenly your joy will turn to ashes in your mouth, and you'll know the debt is paid.

♕ WORD COUNT: 3k

♕ WARNING: Sexual Violence, Harsh language, misogyny

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kin in all but blood

Your heavy pants fill the throne room as the nobles chatter dies down. Coils of hair curtain your face, appearing more like a wild animal than a noblewoman. The nameless knights grip on your forearm makes you grit your teeth. Lords and Ladies stand at a distance gaping at what remains of the once most vibrant lady in Kings Landing. A lady from a great house. The last of House Azgeda.

“Your Grace she slaughtered my brother, Lord Houghton and his men. I beseech the court to take her head with haste. For to not do so would be an act against justice,” Dawsin Houghton, the new Lord of small house Houghton. The new head of a house of leeches.

“You speak of justice though your house has committed atrocities in your insatiable thirst for power. I’ll see you in the seven hells,” Your eyes peek through the opening of your hair, glaring daggers at Lord Houghton. His facade faltering and recovering in an instant. The King reminds you of your time to speak, urging Lord Houghton to continue.

“You’ll be there a good long time before I show up,” Lord Houghton goads. A faint smirk plays in his lips eyeing you with smugly.

“I don’t mind waiting,” There’s a chilling calm to your tone. More beast than man, pure unadulterated fury. That of a warrior not a noble lady.

“The Lady of Azgeda has taken to madness. Too feeble minded to understand the workings of politics and houses. Entitlement leading her to believe security in the name Azgeda absolves her of the consequences of treason,” Lord Houghton voice booms through the hall. The sickly King’s coughs follow but do not dissolve the tension.

“What of these atrocities does Lady Azgeda speak of?” King Viserys hoarse voice grates your ears. The tread between the living and dead, far too familiar. No longer the cheery seemingly healthy man you once knew as a girl.

“Your Grace, the girl has gone mad. I fear the past six years she has been unable to come to terms with the fates of the traitors she calls kin. It is unwise to believe a word she says. Like her treacherous house I accuse the lady of murder,” Lord Houghtons gaze bounces between the iron throne and your fixed stare.

“Lady (Y/n) you stand accused of murder, of treason. What say you?” Lord Houghton steps forward insisting on dissuading the King. Viserys voice still booms with authority despite his failing health. “I asked a question of the Lady. I demand an answer!”

Lord Houghton’s back straightens, watching you warily. You scan the room slowly caring little for the gawking stares. All the Royal family stands eyeing you curiously. Many of the lords and the ladies of the court appearing vaguely familiar.

“I bled Lord Houghtons men by simply poisoning their wine. Then I cut the former little Lord neck to navel,” Your words leave you at a slow pace, sending a wave of chatter across the room. The incredulous stares meeting your lopsided smirk. “I intend to the same to Lord Dawsin.”

“You confess to the charges brought against you on this day, Lady (Y/n)?“ Viserys eyebrows pinch, eyes narrowing down at you.

“No for the only crime I have committed is being a woman who took it upon herself to seek retribution for the wrongful slaying of her great house—a house that gave even Aegon the Conqueror what he deemed a worthy challenge. Your Grace, you descended from conquerors, I descend from survivors. My house words, from the ashes stemming from the survival dragon fire put upon us. Your Grace, to my understanding conspiracy and lying to the crown is an act of treason. The House of Houghton has committed both of these acts against the crown,” Your voice raises, ripping your arm out of the hold of the knight. “I will have Lord Dawsin’s head!”

“You lying bitch! I should’ve have fucked you bloody!” He growled, walking into the unmoving hand of a Kingsguard.

“Perhaps you should have. Rest assured I did not hesitate as I took your brother!” You hiss, gripping the chains as he rushes past the guards. Parrying his strike with your shackles, kicking out his back leg bringing him to his knee. You bring your chains around the wrist of the hand that holds his sword pressing his back to your knee, holding his hand and sword inches from his eye.

“Hold!” The Lord Hand yells as the King coughs muffle his words. You steady your breaths, using your leg to block his free arm. The Kingsguards eye you with their hands on the hilt of their swords, awaiting the order to cut you down.

“Lady (Y/n) continue,” Viserys eye focuses on you, ignoring Lord Houghton’s trembling gaze on your hands that hold him captive.

“You know not of the horrors I have lived due to a lie. The only crime my family committed was being favored by the crown. For the fortune our perseverance has brought us. Envy green brought the demise of my house. My mother and father butchered in their sleep. My sister defiled as my brother’s were cut down in pursuit to stop them. They made me watch I—,” Your words garner gasps at the revelation. Swallowing a shudder you pause while pulling his sword closer to his face, “I was only a girl then.”

“Then why not seek aid from the crown?” Your head whips to the left revealing the Rogue Prince.

“For what, you to send men to claim their lives in my stead? Marry me off to lesser a man to become the new face of my house? No, I wanted the last thing they ever would ever see to be the daughter of Carth Azgeda looking down on them as they died. If I am put to the sword then so be it. They sold me to Pentos slavers who put me in the fighting pits. The crown be damned I will be the one who ends the craven cunts of house Houghton,” The chatter of the court raises the many gaping at your boldness, at the vulgarity and brutality you speak so fluidly. You kick out Lord Houghton’s other leg, his pleas drowning in the onlookers whispers.

“Do not forget yourself Lady (Y/n). You accuse House Houghton of egregious crimes. Can you provide the crown with more than just hysterical accusations?” You release your chains from Dawsin’s sword kicking him to the floor. Gripping the edges of your tunic you rip down the sleeves. The ink marking your skin earning gasps—the markings of a repeat conclave winner.

“My desire to cut down my foes is what kept me alive all those years in the pits. That aided me in winning my freedom. Your Grace, I implore you to ponder all that House Houghton has gained in House Azgeda’s demise. No longer little lords, but a members of court. Lands and grand titles. My King, you were a dear friend to my grandsire and a great supporter of my mother in the wake of his death. She said you helped prepare her for her duties as the Lady of House Azgeda. King Viserys is our kin in all but blood. Her words. I beg you to right this wrong not only as our King but a beloved ally to the House of Azgeda,” Holding your head up high you blink away the searing heat in your eyes. Clasping your hands in front of you, swallowing the knot in your throat. Visery sighs, his resolve softening at your petition. An image of your mother hidden beneath the evidence of survival that litters your skin. The eyes of ghosts staring back at the King of the Seven Kingdoms.

Viserys calls for a private council meeting, a change in your detainment effective immediately. A guard unshackles you ushering your out of the throne before the dismissal of others. You catch the faint call for Lord Houghton and his remaining men to be sharply questioned.

In a private chamber your eyes never leave the hands of the servant who bathe you. The older woman’s the only one of the servants who do not eye you warily. Her touch gentle but it does little to ease your guarded tension. Not once does she meet your gaze.

“My apologies for the wrongs done to you and your house. I remember your family quite fondly. The only house of pleasant nobles to be guests of the King,” She speaks barely above a whisper. Her hands moving slow over the scars across your abdomen. She studies them closely, her eyes revealing nothing but acknowledgement. You grip the edges of the basin.

“You’re not in pits anymore, my lady.” Her hand rests on your white knuckles. Your eyebrows furrow, the ache through your hand averting your gaze. You splash water up and onto your face, your demeanor dissolving back a guarded stare.

“We’re all in the pits. The arena much larger, the fighting more calculated, far more complicated. I won’t delude myself into thinking otherwise,” You stare off at nothing particular, speaking plainly. The attempts to place you in a gown prove fruitless, even with the looming threat of the Kings command. A guard escorts you back to the throne room, donning a black tunic and leather slacks.

The throne resides with a much smaller audience. Westerling, Lannister, Wylde, Beesbury, and a Grand Maester. Their colors reveal their houses as you count the number of guards. The false maester of war stands in your houses colors, a fiery orange with the likeness of your sigil, the Phoenix. To the right stands the Targaryen family, the only other women in attendance being the Princess and the Queen.

“The accusations thrown today are of the highest acts of treason. Today somebody lies and deceives his Grace. An act of open defiance. Due to the Kings disposition to an accused party it has been decided the small council will carry weight in the decision going forward. To the council members do best to know if House Houghton is proven to be as treacherous as the lady claims. His Grace will being taking a look at all the great houses whom benefited from this tragedy,” Lord Hand Otto Hightower booms with authority. The neutrality of his features telling all you need to know, a man of secrets—of hidden machinations. Each of the small council members nod in acknowledgment, taking their respective seats looking down on yourself and Dawsin. “At the start of this mess we began with Lord Dawsin. Now we shall start with Lady (Y/n). Do you confess to the crime of murdering the late Lord Seth and a considerably large number of his soldiers?”

“I confess to no crime on this day. Seth Houghton and his men were my lives to claim. Just as Dawsin Houghton’s shall be,” Your eyes cut to Lord Houghton who shifts on the balls of his feet. A sharp glare slitting your eyes, his own meeting your gaze with an uneasy huff.

“Mind yourself lady (Y/n). If your words are true I cannot imagine the ire that burns within you. But this is my court and it will run by my command,” Viserys eye stays on you, the decay of his flesh reminding you of your stolen youth. A long stretch of time in a constant fight for survival.

“Lord Dawsin. You stand accused of an egregious list of offenses. Murder, treason, conspiracy, defilement of a noble lady and deception. All against the crown and a great house. A house with great reverence from his grace. Do you confess to the crimes that stand against you this day?” Otto’s eyes do not leave your piercing glare that remains on Dawsin. A deafening silence takes the room, Dawsin’s eyes meeting your own.

He turns forward his gaze downcast, eyebrows pinching you watch as his mouth opens but nothing leaves him. Otto glances back at the King receiving a nod before turning forward, “Today Lord Houghton.”

“I Lord Dawsin of house Houghton, confess to no crime committed against House Azgeda. House of Houghton detests such accusations and will not forget such a slight.” Lord Houghton speaks with a conviction leaving even you questioning your memory. Balling your fists, a scoff leaves your lips garnering a look from Lord Houghton. He looks you in the eye his words cutting through you sharper than a blades edge, “Be at ease little bird. Your wings are yet to be clipped.”

“Relax little bird. Your wings are yet to be clipped,” His breath tickled the shell of your ear. Your head throbbed as he held your arms locked behind you.

“Stop it!” Your voice wavered, dry and itchy. The burn of your knees soothed by the crimson puddle beneath you. Heart hammering as though it will explode from your chest. Your eldest brother head parted from his shoulders, your youngest brother throat slit to the bone. Anya’s screams filled your ears as she thrashed ceaselessly.

“Enough!” Seth Houghton roared above her, a sickening crack took the room. Only your sobs remained. At the satisfied groan of the younger Houghton, your eyes widened at the fate that awaited you.

“No!” You screamed. The next moment a blur, of heavy pants and trembling limbs. Your legs burned without a moment of reprieve. Dawsin Houghton’s large hand grip tight as you both stood mere miles from the docks.

“—I sympathize for girl. Just a girl when her family committed acts of treason. The massive changes must have taken a h—” You blink back into the moment, finding many eyes watching you. A shudder rattling your core as you turn to the throne.

“I escaped by biting a large piece out of Lord Houghton’s shoulder. Large enough to leave a permanent scar. I was apprehended mere minutes from the ports, he was supposed to kill me but instead he sold me to slavers,” Your resolve crumbles in a moment of weakness you have grown to loathe. Lord Houghton’s hands searing your skin, his grip still fresh in your memory.

“This is nonsense,” Lord Houghton chuckles but it does not reach his eyes. The King calls for the removal of his shirt, “Your Grace you cannot be serious.”

“At once,” Lord Hightower says. Your eyes stay on Dawsin’s struggling stature, weak against the three Kings guard who detain him. The burn of your eyes leave you blinking incessantly to halt the tears that build. His no’s and your sisters blurring the lines between the past and present. The removal of Dawsins shirt reveals a faded scar, the print of teeth faint but visible.

“You fucking bitch!” Dawsin lunges toward you, stopped short by the guards. You do not flinch nor look away. The next moments occur in a flash. Not a single small council member votes against you. House of Houghtons fate sealed. Even in the face of every thing you wish for, a fate worse than grief—worse than death plagues you. Nothing.

“Dawsin Houghton dies by my sword,” Your voice so small in the large room, your words nearly missed. Scanning the room a sneer consumes you at the shared expression amongst those who observe you, pity.

“Lady (Y/n). We understand that you have suffered a great amount of misdealing,” Lord Lannister earns a scoff as the others observe you wordlessly.

“Do you now? Tell me, my lord. Were your parents butchered in their sleep. Were you ripped from your bed in the middle night to watch your brothers cut down before you. Your sister defiled and killed right in front of you. Did you live six years of your life in fear others would slit your throat in your sleep. Do you truly understand that? If so then there would be no conversation of who swings the sword to bring Dawsin Houghton to his end. I seek nothing but retribution. No title, no lands, I care for none of it. All I ask is for this,” You plead. The small council turn to Lord Hightower who turns to the King. Silence takes the room, the men dismissing you from the hall to await further instruction.

Pacing the corridor, you do not miss the quiet movements of the Targaryen after you. He stands by the door of the throne room door, eye never leaving you.

“Lady (Y/n), will you join me for a walk in the gardens,” The baritone of voice as uninviting and calculated as his cold stare. You do not cease your pacing, fingers drumming at the sides of your thighs.

“No.” You speak plainly, his hand around your forearm halting your steps. All the cards reside not on your face but in the bawl of your fists. You turn slow looking up over your left shoulder to meet the Princes glare. “Is this meant to frighten me?”

“It would be foolish not to,” He leans down closer, eye narrowing. A scoff leaves your lips, glancing at his eye patch—the words leaving you instinctively.

“It would be foolish to continue without hand as you do without an eye,” His eye flares his other pinning you to the wall as he unsheathes his sword. Your free hand skims his waistband, the hilt of his dagger between your fingers.

“Mind your tongue you brazen whore! I have you,” He hisses, the smirk on your lips like oil to a fire. The Valyrian steel sits beneath your chin, your reflection broken against the blades surface.

“Do you?” Your voice raising, the glint in your eye shining. You press the blade of his dagger further into the divot between his stomach and hip. “One wrong move and you live a cripple. Tell me, who truly has who?”

His eye stays on your own, silence dancing between you. The opening of the chamber doors reveal, the Queen’s trusted knight. A dornish man.

“Prince Aemond,” He calls out. You both turn to him as though you do not threaten the other with blades. “Lady (Y/n). Is everything alright?”

You turn facing the knight, your stare empty and voice light, “All is well Ser..?”

“Ser Cole,” He says, nodding you turn back to Prince Aemond. His eyebrows knit as he watches you.

“Right, my prince?” Aemond releases you sheathing his sword, saying nothing as his dagger disappears from view. You stop at his side speaking low enough for only his ears, “A bit of advice. I’ve killed far greater people than you. It’s be a shame to add a dragon prince.”

You catch a mere glimpse of his furious glare as you walk to Ser Cole. The cold metal of the prince’s dagger kisses your hip, quietly you follow Ser Cole back into the throne room.

#house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #house of dragons imagine #house of dragons au #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen au #Rhaenyra targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen au #viserys targaryen #viserys targaryen imagine #alicent hightower #house of the dragon x black!reader #house of the dragon x poc!reader

[sugarvenomlit]

You're in the wind, I'm in the water

Daemon Targaryen x Black!Fem!Reader

Angst, Dead!Y/N

Black and Brown reader friendly

His eyes adjusted to the light. Pale blue skies languished above as rain clouds over the horizon crept closer.

Soft footsteps approached him from behind, his hand immediately flying to his hip in search of Dark Sister. Only for the blade to be missing from its usual place. Jumping up to meet the threat, Daemon felt as if the breath had bee knocked out of his chest at the sight before him.

He thought he'd never see you again.

You hadn't aged a day in the nearly 20, perhaps even 30 years since he'd last seen you. Your brown skin was untarnished by time, curls as just as lustrous and eyes as deep as he remembered. Forever young and as beautiful as the day he lost you.

This is a dream, he thought, such a beautiful dream. You stopped before him so close he could reach out to touch you and so he did. Breath seemed to stall in your chest while your wide eyes focused on his hand that now rested on your cheek.

"You're real?" Daemon wondered. You felt real, that much he knows. He couldn't help the way hot and painful tears burned his eyes, oh how he had missed you.

"Yes and no. But I'm here. I'm here Daemon," you replied as you kissed the hand that caressed your cheek. He fell to his knees in front of you and buried his face in your white dress unable to hide the violent sobs that shook his body. He had so much to say, so much to apologize for. The days that all of the seven kingdoms knew of his grief over your death in a violent storm you encountered on your way to the Summer Islands and how when you and your dragon washed up on shore, a gaping hole was left in your chest from where the bolt struck you. Those days turned to years when he still silently mourned over you, even after all this time.

Yes, he married Rhea. Cared for Mysaria. Married to Laena and then eventually Rhaenyra, who had the utmost respect and love for you herself.

But you were his true love. You were half his soul, as the poets would say. Daemon Targaryen would know you even in death.

"I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. It was my fault y/n. I did this. I never should have said what I did. It was foul, disgusting and vile thing and I am the most damned excuse of a man to walk this earth an-"

"Shh. There is nothing to forgive my love. It is all forgotten,"

"Nooo, I-I, I made you leave an-" he choked on his words as he sobbed even harder. You cradled his head to your stomach as his tears ruined your dress.

Above you, thunder roared in the clouds and lightning lit up the skies just like fire as heavy torrents of rain began to fall on you and your beloved. The shadow of dragons danced above.

"All is forgiven my love. You are on your way to me soon."

Teary violet eyes looked up at yours for what seems like an eternity before Daemon awoke. Dragonstone. He was at Dragonstone. Rhaenyra lay beside him, white hair splayed haphazardly on her pillow with one arm draped loosely over his waist. Daemon turned and gazed at the moon through the clouds. Resolved to cry himself back to sleep.

#Spotify #house of the dragon #black!reader #daemon targeryen x reader #poc reader #house targaryen #daemon targeryan #daemon x black!reader #house of the dragon x black!reader #hotd imagine

[nnarellia]

I choose to be happy

#house of the dragon #dance of the dragons #aemond targaryen #alicent hightower #aegon ii targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targeryen x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #girlblogging #daemon targaryen #team green #team black #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #everyone is terrible so fuck it

[lady-ashfade]

Yan!Mother!Alicent targaryen x Crybaby!Fem!Reader. Vs other Yandere house of the dragon characters.

Just a small idea for the AI picture, it gave me a few ideas and might write more.

Warnings: Yandere content, bullying to get attention, reader being a massive cry baby

The sound of bare feet echo through the halls and many people gasp as a child runs passed them. The young princess covered in mud and her dress ripped, her eyes rolling with tears as she sobs. Her body hit a few on the way but kept running up the stairs to find her mother or anyone she can. The boys had pushed her in the mud when she asked to play, they had never been so cruel to her before. Her sweet nephews were always so kind and let her do what she wanted, but Aegon had always made fun and poked at her. The young girl made her way to the floor, she didn’t care about the meeting and all she wanted was her mother.

Pushing open the door she ran into the room and stoped to look around for her mother. The table turned quickly and their eyes widen in shock and confusion. “My dear girl,” Alicent stood up immediately and pushed her chair to the side and rushed over to her crying daughter, “What’s has happened.” The mother bend down and rubbed the mud off her face. The girl just continues to sob and wail. Viserys stood up at the table, Rhaenrya feeling sick and waiting for her moment to comfort the sweet girl. “It- It was Jace, Luke and Aegon.” She stuttered with her small voice.

“They pushed me into the mud, and I ripped my dress falling all on it.”

Rhaenrya placed a hand on her belly at the image of her boy’s hurting you. She raised them well and they wouldn’t do that, at least on their own since they loved you so much. Alicent pulled her closer and kissed her forhead even if it was still dirty. “We are to have a meeting later about what happened after she is cleaned and calm.” The queen stood up and looked at her husband and then glared at rhaenrya. “Your boys will be there.” All Viserys could do was sigh and rub his face. He dismissed the council, rhaenrya looked at her father but he shrugged and agreed with Alicent.

The princess was bathed fully and placed in her favorite dress, her mother getting her all her favorite food and treats. Aemond found out and hugged his sister while she continued to cry about how she didn’t know what she did. Aemond was furious how they picked on his perfect sister. As they awaited for rhaenrya and her children the princess hugged her mother tight and refused to let go. Alicent was ready to behead them all or exile them since they dare hurt her child. Then Aegon…who had puffed red cheeks from a slap he earned from his mother, and getting screamed at by his father too. He stayed quiet and looked down.

As soon as Rhaenrya entered with her sons the room shifted into a deep tension between everyone. You still stood by your mother and cling to her dress, too upset to look at your nephews eyes. Aemond walked closer and beside you, placing a hand on your head as you sniffled. Alicent looked at the young boys and then to their mother with a suspicious glare on what she would do. “Tell me boys, why have would you do such a thing.” The queen asked them. Their eyes shifted from the queens to her eldest son who refused to look up feeling their presence.

“The boys have said that it was a way they could earn her affection. I believe the words spoken to them were “Treat a woman rough and like a toy and they’ll be forever grateful.” along those lines. And I do believe your son, Aegon told them so.” Alicent looked over at Aegon. She had just got done dealing with him and now this? “It was just a bit of teasing, we did not think she’d actually fall and get hurt.” Alicent fumed and the mouth and tried to control herself again. Jace and Luke looked at the princess head and tried not to cry. Luke started to tear up at the memory of her crying and screaming, Jace couldn’t believe he was mean to her. Even if it was to get her affection.

“You’ll all apologize to her, now! Do you understand me? I shall speak to the king for a harder punishment for this acted but for now you can no longer see her.” Rhaenrya gasped and looked at the sweet princess she loved. When if Alicent was her mother she still had no right. The boys pouted. “My queen, please rethink-” Alicent stopped her by lifting you up and turned your face around to reveal the smallest cut on your chin that was once covered by mud. “She is injured. There are bruises already showing up and the maesters tell me she could have broken a arm! So no, I do not think I will reconsider.” Luke was the first toe break.

“We are truly sorry, Y/n. It was never intended for you to get hurt we promise.” He cried as his brother agreed beside him. You look at the boys crying and apologizing for your forgetfulness that it makes you forgive them a bit. “I- I forgive you.” You mumble so soft before turning away and back into your mother’s embrace while still being mad at them. Thought you didn’t fully forgive them it was a start and you expected their apology. They could make it up to you soon if they can see you again. Aemond looked at the crying boys and smirks a bit while reaching for his sister to pull her into his arms. The princess expected his gesture and wrapped her arms around him for comfort.

Rhaenrya looked at Alicent who stared back at her. The boys all looked at each other with glares over the princess. Aegon who hated that he would hurt his precious sister who was the only one nice to him.

#yandere house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #yandere house of the dragon x reader #yandere alicent hightower #yandere rhaenrya targaryen #yandere jacaerys velaryon #yandere lucerys velaryon #yandere aemond targaryen #yandere team green #yandere team black

[theghooligan]

aemond: my uncle is a challenge i welcome, if he dares face me—

daemon:

#house of the dragon #look i love show aemond #but i am team black (DUH) #but that was fucking laughable 😂😂 #he really thinks he’s hard as shit huh #*insert we gonna step outside step outside for what we gonna fight meme* #daemon really said ‘im about to beat this bitch UP’ #daemon plotting evilly in the corner doing the pyramid of evil contemplation with his hands #meanwhile aemond is secretly fangirling over his uncle 😍 #hotd #hotd meme #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #daemon targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #aemond x reader #daemon x rhaenyra #aegon ii x reader

[fragileheartbeats]

Your a pussy you say you don't have a side but you LOVE AEGON.You think we are stupid like you??? Have balls and say your a Rape Apologist who wants to fuck a pretty bitch named Tom who's a rapist.Aegon is a half-blood murder rapist you fucking disgusting.Rhaenyra was rightful queen but he take her right away from her.aren't you a woman???you supposed to take Rhaenyra side but you just want to be raped by a pretty boy.you just like aegon because of tom.

I'm really tired of people like you.

You're stupid, your argument is stupid, you sound stupid and you make stupid points.

You think because you're team black you did a great thing or something? You can't be that stupid that you don't understand that the writers want you to be on black side. It's pretty obvious. Writers are pro black and unprofessional, I bet they didn't even read the book.

I don't like Aegon because Tom playing him and I want to fuck a pretty bitch, I like Tom because he play Aegon. If he didn't played Aegon, I would never have known this lovely man, and you guys really should stop insulting him, he's just doing his job and he try he's best to do a good job so we can enjoy the show. If you hate him, keep it to yourself because words have more affect that you might think. I understand that you don't like him, there are people that I myself dislike but I would never say something like this about them, not only your words can hurt them mentally but also can ruin their life.

Aegon was a rapist, yes almost like every other men in GOT and HOTD. And if you actually think with a brain you can understand that on his time it was normal for men in power to rape women. It was normal for sons to take the throne after their father and it was normal for siblings to kill each other for power. You really think if he lived in 2024 he would be a rapist and a murder? Or would he tried to take Rhaenyra's right?

"Half-blood" is such a funny word to use. Rhaenyra herself wasn't a pure Targaryen, her bastards are less that half Targaryen and her true borns aren't pure Targaryen either. Idk why you guys use this word as if it's an insult and it's give her more right (if she was a pure Targaryen, which she's not) to be queen.

"Rightful"? What do you exactly mean by that? There is no rightful when it's come to power, and if it is, the day that Aegon was born and the day that Rhaenyra born her first bastard it was over. Believe it or not, people didn't want a woman in power, especially a woman like Rhaenyra. And they didn't want bastards to sit on iron throne. Idk why it's so hard to understand that this war would happened not matter if it was Aegon or someone else, but I promise people wouldn't let a woman and especially a woman who have obvious bastards sit on iron throne.

Tell me something that Rhaenyra did and it's make her a rightful and good queen, just one thing and I promise I would choose black.

Actually when she sat on iron throne, it's cut her and she bleed and it was a sign that the throne rejected her.

She would never make a good queen, she was spiteful, jealous and a lustful woman, the only thing that make her a "queen" is her father claiming her as heir. She lack strong sense of duty and her desires make her to do a lot of stupid things. She was someone who ignored the rules and did not accept her responsibilities and shirked from them. Being a king or queen need a great potential that she lacked.

"With great power come great responsibility". She wanted the power, yes but she didn't do anything to deserve it. Instead of changing herself, she expects others to obey her without any words or expectations. She didn't read anything about history and didn't try to fit herself into her position as a female heir.

One of the worst things she did that jeopardized her position as future queen was that she gave birth to bastards, but what made it worse was that she pretended that they were true born and should sit on the iron throne after her. And she punished everyone who said otherwise. As I said before, she's Targaryen version of Cersei. Both Rhaenyra and Cersei gave birth to three ridiculously obvious looking bastards and tried everything in their power to shut the people who said the true. But at least Cersei could tell that her bastards look like her unlike Rhaenyra.

Of course, Viserys is also to blame. He never prepared Rhaenyra to be queen because he never intended to choose her as his heir in the first place, he always tried for a son and when Aemma failed to give him a son he chose Rhaenyra as his heir (he didn't want Daemon to be king). He also increased the chances of starting a war by having three true born sons and choosing none as his heir.

Rhaenyra always relied on others and never took responsibility for her mistakes and never tried to change.

And if this is about feminism, isn't feminism supposed to be about equality between men and women? If so then tell me why Rhaenyra stayed behind, eat her sweets and watched her family die for her while Aegon fought in the war, being burned and crippled?

Ever wondered why Rhaenyra couldn't win this war even though she had more dragons and more people supporting her? Maybe it was because she didn't know how to be a ruler? Maybe it was because she wasn't fit to be a queen? Maybe it was because she did almost everything wrong?

I don't want to be raped, I like Tom, yes because he's a sweet man. He's lovely and beautiful, ofc I like him. But Aegon is a different story, I always liked Aegon, he was the most interesting character in the book and I understood him most that's why I like him.

Now please stop your bullshit, you're just embarrassing yourself, it's pathetic.

The next time you decide to send a message like this think with your brain because I'm done being polite.

#like fr #house of the dragon #house targaryen #house of dragons #aegon targaryen #tom glynn carney #anti team black #anti rhaenyra targaryen #anti rhaenyra stans #pro team green #team green #aemond targaryen #alicent hightower #anti daemon targaryen #hotd #a song of ice and fire #song of ice and fire #asoiaf #king aegon #aegon x reader #aegon the second #aegon ii #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aemond one eye #anti hotd #helaena targaryen #helaena the dreamer

[the-daydreaming-show]

Concept/Sneak Peek: Aegon II Targaryen x OlderSister!Reader.

“Do you love me?” Aegon asked in a tearful whisper. He looked angelic, in his white pajamas and his violet eyes filled with tears that refused to fall but were clearly there. The question had come out of nowhere, but you still answered it without any hesitation.

“Of course I love you, Aegon,” you told him, whispering back and making him feel like it was just you and him in the world. He looked at you surprised, perhaps a little relieved, and a tear slid down his cheek. “You are my brother, my blood. I love the bones off you, husband.”

The need struck Aegon suddenly, just with that, and he began to pray in his mind to the gods that you would take his offer. Well, now he did not want for anything in the world that his mother would fulfill her mission and annul your marriage. There was nothing more in the world than he wanted to stay by your side for the rest of his life, now he understood that.

Or

Where you, the youngest daughter of Aemma and Viserys, married Aegon, the eldest son of Alicent Hightower, after the incident of the eye of Aemond in Driftmark. Years after your marriage, you fulfill your duty as Hand of the King. Since no children have been born from you union, your stepmother plans to request the annulment of your marriage, to marry Aegon to a daughter of the Baratheon. This is to ensure the support of that house when Viserys dies.

Aegon, who has enjoyed suffocating freedom since he married you when he was only fourteen, doesn't want that, and for the wrong reasons. He resigns himself to doing his duty in order to remain free, you two need a child, but he finds himself with something much better than freedom: a life tied to you.

(Let me know if you're interested in a fanfic like this, I could make it a series, because I love the concept, but I don't know.

Edit: Let me know if you want to be tag in the the post)

#aegon ii targaryen x female reader #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii fanfic #aegon x reader #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader #hotd smut #dance of the dragons #house of the dragon au #alternative universe #no r-word aegon #alicent hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen x sister!reader #team “too many men” #aegon ii targaryen x reader #fanfic concept #fanfic ideas #Will you read it? #team black #team green #asoiaf

[slavicdelight]

The Hight Tower and the Dragon's Heir

Pairing: Alicent Hightower x male!Targ!reader

Summary: Lady Alicent Hightower was the closest friend of Princess Rhaenyra, yet she couldn't help but fall for her older brother, Y/N.

Warnings: none, following canon divergence

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Alicent Hightower gracefully strolled the corridors of the illustrious Red Keep, her morning lessons with her inseparable companion, Princess Rhaenyra, having just concluded. The echoes of footsteps accompanied her every stride as she made her way towards the luncheon appointment with her father, Ser Otto Hightower, the King's Hand. The castle bursted with vibrant activity—servants hurriedly carried out their duties, knights stood in vigilant postures, and nobles engaged in animated conversations, exchanging the latest court gossip.

As she ascended a majestic staircase, the voice of the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Westerling, reached her ears. With a soft smile, Alicent reciprocated the courteous greeting. The anticipation of her father's chambers lingered in the air as she approached, each step echoing with the weight of her familial responsibilities.

However, the routine of her morning took an unexpected turn when, just before she reached the sanctum of her father, a sudden force collided with her, threatening to send her sprawling. A gasp escaped her lips, but before the cold stone floor could meet her, strong and reassuring hands prevented her from falling. These hands belonged to none other than Y/N Targaryen, the eldest son of the reigning monarch, King Viserys.

In that fleeting moment of unexpected encounter, the bustling ambiance of the Red Keep faded into the background. Alicent found herself lost in his gaze. The air crackled with an unspoken tension, and as Y/N steadied her with an effortless strength, Alicent's heart quickened, realizing that even in the most predictable corridors, destiny had an uncanny way of intertwining lives in an unexpected matter.

"Oh my, Lady Alicent. I'm so sorry; I didn't notice you," the young Prince expressed with a charming smile, nearly as enchanting as the prince himself. His gaze held a hypnotic quality that left Alicent momentarily flustered. Deep down, she possessed an immense fondness for him, but the fear of rejection and the potential repercussions from his younger sister stopped her from ever expressing them.

"No, my Prince. It was I who should've been more careful," Alicent nervously replied, her voice betraying a subtle hint of admiration. The unspoken tension between them lingered in the air. Her father's disapproval of the prince added a layer of complexity to the situation. Otto Hightower believed him to be the same as his uncle, Prince Daemon, hence the mutual hostility.

"Were you heading to your father, perhaps?" the prince inquired, his curiosity evident. Alicent hesitated, aware of the strained relationship between her father, Ser Otto Hightower, and the prince. Otto's opinions about Y/N's fitness for becoming king often clashed with the prince's aspirations.

"Yes, my prince," Alicent replied cautiously, choosing her words with care. The prince graciously took a step back, allowing her to continue her journey towards her father's chambers.

"Then do not let me stop you," he said with a small, understanding smile, his gaze lingering for a moment before gracefully descending the stairs, resuming his own path through the corridors of the Red Keep. That brief encounter, had left Lady Alicent soft in her knees.

Entering the Hand's chambers, Alicent immediately noticed her father seated at the table, a large variety of dishes laid out. She greeted him respectfully and took her place on the opposite side. "Alicent," he acknowledged with a nod, his eyes shining with a mix of sternness and affection. "How was your morning?" he inquired, motioning her to being eating.

"It was fine. I studied with the Princess the whole morning after breaking fast with her and Queen Aemma," Alicent replied, offering a light summary of her activities. The mention of encountering Prince Y/N on her way to her father's chambers prompted a subtle change in his demeanor. His brow lifted, and a stern look accompanied his response. "Prince Y/N is not a good influence. I advise you to avoid him," he coldly said, his voice carrying a weight of disapproval as Alicent cast her gaze downward. "Very well, father," she agreed, and the remainder of their lunch unfolded in a heavy silence.

As Alicent's thoughts drifted back to the violet-eyed prince, she couldn't comprehend her father's disdain for him. In her eyes, he was gallant and the epitome of a perfect prince. The unspoken tension between father and daughter lingered, leaving Alicent with a sense of conflict between her loyalty to her father and a growing curiosity about Y/N.

A fortnight later, the joyous occasion of a tournament took place in order to celebrate the King's anticipated new heir gripped the Red Keep. Nobles from far and wide were invited, marking the event as a grand affair. Queen Aemma, began her labours early in the morning, enduring the suffering alone, as King Viserys presided over the jousting festivities. Prince Daemon, displaying exceptional skills, unseated Alicent's brother Gwayne from his horse.

Victorious, the Prince then diverted his attention towards the stands where Alicent sat. With a charming smile, he asked for her favor, stating, "Lady Alicent, I'm sure your favor would ensure my victory today." Casting a fleeting glance at her father, Alicent handed Daemon her favor. Unbeknownst to her, a certain prince of the crown observed the exchange with a glare and a clenched jaw.

The joy of the tournament swiftly gave way to a somber hush when a messenger arrived bearing the tragic news of Queen Aemma's death. The atmosphere within the Red Keep became grim, mournful mood reigned for weeks. The funeral, held on a distant hill, marked a solemn occasion where the lifeless forms of the Queen and the young Prince lay upon the pyre, awaiting the embrace of dragonfire from Syrax and Shadowspine, the loyal companions of the Queen's surviving children.

Following the ceremony, Alicent found herself once again in her father's chambers, the weight of grief hanging heavily in the air. "How is Rhaenyra?" her father inquired, slight concern etched across his face. Alicent, her fingers idly picking at her fingers, replied, "She just lost her mother." The sorrow that lingered in her words mirrored the collective grief that shrouded the entire Keep.

Not being one to hide his ambitions, her father suggested, "Perhaps you would like to offer the King some comfort. Losing a wife is a terrible thing. He would surely rejoice in a visit." Alicent reluctantly agreed to undertake this solemn task, driven by her desire to please her father. As she turned to leave, she overheard her father's additional instruction, his voice low and laden with subtle implication—indicating that she should dress herself in one of her late mother's gowns.

Rather than heading to the King's chambers as initially intended, Alicent found herself standing before the doors that guarded Prince Y/N's residence. A guard announced her presence, and she entered, greeted by a scene of disarray. The room resembled the aftermath of a storm—furniture upended, decorations scattered in chaotic way. Amidst the disorder, she discovered her prince, seated on the floor, his back against the bed stand, his once-silky hair now tangled, and his eyes holding a haunted look. The scent of alcohol lingered in the air.

Taking a seat beside the prince, Alicent met his gaze, prompting him to question her presence with a strained voice, revealing the results of earlier screams. "I came here to see how you're holding up, my Prince," she replied calmly, her eyes scanning the wreckage around them. He only scoffed in response.

Drawing on her own experiences, Alicent shared, "When my own mother died, people looked at me with pity. I didn't want it. All I wanted was to hear they were sorry." Her empathetic words hung in the air, and she continued, "I'm so sorry for your loss, my Prince," concluding her condolences with a soft look, her eyes reflecting genuine compassion. Y/N stared at her in silence, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, as he began to unveil the weight of his heartache.

"My father's quest for a second son is to blame for this tragedy. He never considered me worthy of the throne," he confessed, his voice full of bitterness and sorrow. "He wished for another son, a better son. One he could put on the throne after himself. I was never enough. Rhaenyra wasn't enough. He killed my mother for a new heir. And now, my brother is also dead," he uttered.

Alicent's heart ached for him, the immensity of his suffering echoing through the confessions. Despite already bearing the responsibilities of being the Heir, this added layer of tragedy made the burden almost unbearable. In her earnest attempt to offer solace, she stood by both Y/N and Princess Rhaenyra, a pillar of support during these dark times.

As Y/N was officially declared Heir before the realm, Alicent stood steadfastly by his side, witnessing the unfolding of destiny. She remained present during the uncomfortable prospect of their father's remarriage, understanding the siblings hesitation. The more time they spent together, the threads of friendship between Alicent and Y/N began to intertwine with the delicate threads of love.

When the time came for the Prince to choose a wife, he declared his intent to marry Lady Alicent, much to Rhaenyra's dismay. While Viserys rejoiced in the prospect, Otto, though reluctantly, agreed to the union. Though not a fervent supporter of the Prince, Otto recognized the strategic significance—marrying his daughter to the future king ensured the placement of his bloodline on the throne.

The union of Alicent and Y/N was immortalized in what became known as the White Wedding. It was a testament to the pure and evident love that bound the newlyweds. The ceremony resonated with the harmonious union of two souls, their vows exchanged amidst the sacred walls of the Sept.

Shorty after their nuptials, the arrival of Aegon Targaryen marked a new chapter in the royal family. The beautiful boy, with the coloring of his father and the distinctive facial structure of his mother, embodied the perfect mix of the royal couple. Aegon, the newest Prince, became a living testament to the love that flourished within the Targaryen lineage.

As Alicent carried the weight of their second child, King Viserys sought to hold a celebratory hunt on his grandson Aegon's second name day. The relationships within the Targaryen family began to mend, albeit slowly, and the noticeable favoritism towards Rhaenyra, perhaps due to her resemblance to her late mother, didn't escape Y/N's notice. Despite the slight discomfort, he chose to focus on his growing family, diverting his attention away from the nuances of favoritism and concentrating on the joyous moments that bound them together.

The grand hunt orchestrated by King Viserys brought a sense of delight to Otto Hightower, who relished the opportunity for both entertainment and strategic alliances. The men, engaged in the pursuit of a White Hart—a symbolic creature representing royalty—set out with purpose, leaving the women to find solace within the safety of the camp.

As Alicent sat beside her husband, Y/N, who held their young son Aegon in his lap, an unexpected intrusion disrupted the peace inside the tent. Rhaenyra, the spirited Princess, burst in with determination, her grievances clear. Viserys, in his pursuit to secure her a suitable match, had orchestrated a connection with Jason Lannister, much to Rhaenyra's vocal displeasure. The fiery Princess asserted her autonomy, rejecting the notion of being treated as a prize to be sold to the highest bidder.

The repercussions of this confrontation left Alicent aware of the strain in her once-unbreakable bond with Rhaenyra. The princess, fueled by a desire to ascend to the throne, resented the twist of fate that seemingly diverted Y/N's affections toward Alicent, who had become the new Princess consort.

In the next years, Rhaenyra's fate took a turn as she was forced into a marriage with her cousin, Ser Laenor Velaryon, because of previous liaison with her uncle Daemon in a pleasure house that added further complexity to the situation. The marriage, arranged against her will, led to the birth of bastards, whom she attempted to pass as legitimate—a move not lost on the eyes of the court.

Despite Viserys's blindness, the court recognized the discrepancy in the children's Valyrian features. Whispers spread, hinting at a connection with Ser Harwing Strong, the Commander of the Gold Cloaks, who served closely under the Princess.

These choices made by Rhaenyra made Alicent bitter. The apparent disregard for duty exhibited by Rhaenyra, coupled with the ability to evade consequences, fueled Alicent's resentment. Yet, in the face of this, the legitimacy of the children born to Y/N and Alicent remained unquestionable. The unmistakable resemblance of each child to their father nullified any potential doubts that might have arisen.

As their children matured, distinct personalities emerged, painting a portrait of the Targaryen legacy. Aegon, the mischievous firstborn, delighted in playing pranks and causing mayhem within the castle. Despite occasional mischief, his loyalty to the family prevailed, a testament to the intricate balance of his character.

Helaena, their only daughter, embodied sweetness and warmth. Though closed off to many, she harbored a great heart, often murmuring riddles that, while dismissed by most, held significance to her parents who recognized her as a dreamer with visions of her own.

Aemond, a mirror image of his father, shared not only physical similarities but also akin personalities. The only distinction lay in Aemond's shyness. His passion for history forged a special bond with King Viserys, who favored the small Prince. Their shared love for learning brought them together in frequent discussions about the boy's recent discoveries.

The youngest, Daeron, charmed all who crossed his path, earning the title of the most popular son among their subjects. His charm and charisma propelled him to Oldtown, serving his mother's uncle as a cupbearer and squire.

Amidst the dynamic growth of their children, Y/N and Alicent's love stood resilient. Any hopes Rhaenyra harbored of a falling out between the couple were in vain; their bond, an indestructible force, continued to strengthen.

The visible strain within the ruling family had spilled beyond the walls of the Red Keep, earning them the titles of "blacks" and "reds" among the common folk and nobility alike. Y/N, recognizing the fractures within his family, attempted reconciliation with his younger sister, but Rhaenyra remained consumed by anger towards him for marrying another and harbored resentment for Alicent, his wife for being said woman. The rift seemed irreparable.

Despite the familial tensions, Y/N maintained a close involvement in the training of his sons, personally overseeing their progress with the assistance of Ser Criston Cole, who had shifted his allegiance from Rhaenyra to the royal family. Aegon and Aemond exhibited remarkable progress, overshadowing their cousins.

During a training session, as Ser Criston instructed the young princes, Y/N was reluctantly pulled away by the demands of his duties as the Heir. King Viserys, observing from the terrace, keenly followed the lesson. The knight, calling upon Aegon, challenged him to a sparring match and taunted, "Let's see if you can touch me. You and your brother." The confident Prince, Aegon, responded with a cocky assurance, "I've won my first bound, Ser Criston. My opponent sues for mercy."

Undeterred, Ser Criston introduced a new challenge, pitting both Aegon and Aemond against him. The two princes advanced, swords in hand, but the seasoned knight skillfully blocked each of their attacks, showcasing his experience and expertise. The training ground became a battleground of skills, the clash of steel echoing the intricate dynamics of power, loyalty, and the indomitable spirit of the Targaryen lineage.

The training ground, alive with the clang of swords and the shuffling of feet, fell into a momentary silence as Ser Harwin approached, offering instructions to the brown-haired princes. His voice redirected Ser Criston's attention toward the younger boys. "It seems like the younger boys could use your attention, Ser," Harwin remarked as he walked closer. A subtle tension hung in the air as Criston questioned, "Are you questioning my method of instruction?"

In response, Criston motioned for Aegon to face Jaecerys, declaring it an "eldest son against eldest son" spar. The white-haired Prince's age and strength became evident as he overpowered the younger Jaecerys. However, as Aegon advanced, he found himself roughly seized by the shoulder and pulled away by Ser Harwin. Aegon, outraged by the intervention, protested loudly, resulting in a reprimand from the King.

Tensions flared further when Criston began questioning the Commander of the Gold Cloaks's interest in the princes' training, suggesting affections that a man might harbor for his children. The insinuation proved too much for Ser Harwin, who snapped and attacked Criston. The incident led to Ser Harwin's banishment from King's Landing, and a few days later, he perished within the walls of Harrenhal along with his father.

More sorrowful news followed swiftly. A raven brought the grim information of Lady Laena Velaryon's death, casting a pall over King's Landing. The weight of Laena's death cast a somber shadow over Y/N, who had considered her another sister growing up. The entire family traveled to Driftmark to pay their respects, attending a funeral marred by Lord Vaemond's continuous accusations directed at Princess Rhaenyra and her bastard sons. Prince Daemon's laughter, strategically employed to deflect attention, added a layer of tension to the already heart-wrenching day.

Once the children retired for the night, Alicent found a moment to speak with her husband. In the quiet confines of their chamber, she gently inquired, "Are you alright, my love?" Y/N, standing by a window overlooking the view of Driftmark, confessed, "She was one of my closest friends, and she died alone. Without her family or friends, because Daemon denied her return. She didn't deserve such a fate."

Alicent, though not as intimately acquainted with Lady Laena, offered words of solace, acknowledging her bravery and kindness. Y/N, appreciating his wife's comforting presence, sighed and turned to look at her. "I'm sure you're right, darling," he said, caressing her face. In that moment, they found solace in each other's embrace, a comforting respite from the sorrow that permeated their hearts.

With a shared understanding, Y/N guided Alicent to bed, where they surrendered to the embrace of sleep, seeking refuge from the weariness that accompanied the emotional journey. Their intertwined forms, nestled in peaceful repose, reflected the enduring strength of their bond in the face of life's inevitable trials.

The tranquility that enveloped Y/N and Alicent was shattered abruptly when a maid, panic-stricken, banged on their door, delivering news of a grave accident involving their son. Swiftly dressing into presentable robes, they rushed towards the hall where their children were present. The sight that awaited them was horrifying—Aemond, their beloved son, was a bloody mess, missing an eye. Alicent's anguished scream pierced the air as she ran towards her injured child.

Demanding answers, Y/N interrogated the Knights, learning that the Prince had been mauled in a brawl with his cousins. The King, arriving on the scene, angrily questioned the guards for allowing such an incident. Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys soon joined, but Y/N's attention shifted to the absence of Princess Rhaenyra. When she finally appeared, followed by Prince Daemon, their disheveled appearance hinted at a liaison that further fueled Y/N's anger. How could they disrespect Lady Laena's memory like this?

Amid the chaos, Rhaenyra declared the incident a "regrettable accident," but Alicent argued it was a planned attack. Rhaenyra defended her sons, claiming they were being attacked with vile insults against their legitimacy "Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned on where he heard such slanders". Y/N's anger flared; his sister intended to torture his gravely wounded son over a truth that was evident.

Rhaenyra's attempt to extract information from Prince Aemond, who had heard the alleged slanders, only heightened tensions. Y/N, protective of his son, forbade any harm to befell Aemond. As the King sought apologies and forgiveness, Alicent snapped, demanding justice and ordering the eye of Lucerys Velaryon to conduct it. Chaos ensued as Alicent, fueled by rage, advanced towards Rhaenyra with a knife. Y/N noticed his uncle making way to two women to undoubtedly aid Rhaenyra, which he couldn't let happen and stopped him before Daemon could reach her.

The struggle between Alicent and Rhaenyra unfolded, the room becoming a battleground of emotions and grievances. In the midst of the chaos, Aemond, now with one eye, offered comfort to his mother, stating "Don't mourn me mother. I might've lost an eye but I gained a dragon". Y/N joined the embrace, and as his father declared the matter over, the fractured family clung to the remnants of peace amidst the aftermath of pain and turmoil.

As the years unfolded, the Targaryen family found solace and unity in each other's company. Every meal became a cherished time for discussion, laughter, and shared moments, further strengthening the familial bonds that had weathered storms and emerged resilient.

Aegon and Helaena's marriage flourished, blessed with their two beautiful children, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera. Aegon transformed into a caring and attentive husband, shedding his earlier tendencies to become the perfect Prince fit to one day ascend the throne. Aemond, despite the challenges posed by his limited vision, emerged as a formidable warrior under his father's tutelage. Determined not to be hindered by his condition, he trained with unparalleled dedication, surpassing many in skill and prowess.

Y/N and Alicent, beaming with pride, reveled in the achievements of their children. However, their joy was tempered by the somber responsibility that befell them. With King Viserys succumbing to sickness, he lay bedridden, casting a long shadow over the realm. The inevitable reality loomed—the time was approaching when a new monarch would ascend the throne.

Amidst the bittersweet echoes of Viserys's declining health, the Targaryen family stood united, ready to face the challenges that awaited them. The transition of power loomed on the horizon, and the legacy of House Targaryen stood at the threshold of a new chapter in the annals of Westeros.

The arrival of a raven bearing Ser Vaemond Velaryon's challenging petition for the Driftwood Throne thrust the Red Keep into a state of heightened anxiety. The assertion that Rhaenyra, Daemon, and their children would return to the heart of the realm brought a cloud of unease over the castle, especially given the recent mysterious death of Laenor Velaryon.

In the midst of the commotion, Alicent navigated through the corridors toward the King's chamber, where she knew Rhaenyra and Daemon would be discussing the pressing matter of King Viserys's condition. Upon entering, she greeted them with courtesy, acknowledging the lapse of time since their last encounter. Daemon responded with a nonchalant hum, while Rhaenyra inquired about the authority overseeing the trial of her son.

A new voice cut through the tension as Y/N entered, a smirk playing on his lips. He revealed himself as the authority presiding over the trial, promising a fair judgment even as he acknowledged the accusations thrown at his wife. The room held its breath, and Alicent, standing beside her husband, added, "We have pressing matters to attend to, but please, make yourself at home." With that, the married couple walked away, leaving the guests to navigate the looming trial and the shadows of familial discord that cast their pall over the Red Keep.

The throne room buzzed with tension as the petitions unfolded, each speaker presenting their case before Y/N, who sat on the throne in his father's stead. The weight of judgment rested heavily on his shoulders. Lord Vaemond Velaryon was the first to address the court, delivering a lengthy discourse on bloodlines and the survival of House Velaryon.

However, the proceedings took an unexpected turn when, during Rhaenyra's turn to present her defense, the door opened, and in walked King Viserys. Ready to defend his favorite child, the ailing monarch cast a shadow over the proceedings. The air thickened with anticipation as the confrontation unfolded.

In a swift and brutal turn of events, Vaemond found himself condemned for openly declaring the princess's sons as bastards. The throne room, once filled with the echoes of legal arguments, now bore witness to the irrevocable consequences of familial discord and political maneuvering. As the lifeblood of House Velaryon spilled in pursuit of power and legitimacy, the court faced the stark reality that the struggle for succession and survival could exact a heavy toll on those entangled in the webs of Westerosi politics.

The atmosphere in the dining hall was thick with tension, mirroring the strained relationships within the Targaryen family. Viserys, lying in his seat of honor, served as the symbolic divide between two estranged siblings, Rhaenyra and Y/N, as the air was charged with unspoken grievances.

Jace and Luke, Baela and Rhaena, each engaged in their own conversations, while Aegon and Helaena shared a tender moment, the Prince gently rubbing his wife's hand. Aemond and Daemon, ever vigilant, sat observing, their tension a reflection of the underlying conflicts.

As King Viserys was carried in, the room stood in a display of respect. The king began his speech, adressing his family. “It’s good to see you all together. My heart aches when I see the faces dearest to me so full of envy and drifting apart form each other. House of the Dragon must be united, so let us forget all and stay strong. If not for the realm, the for this old man, who loves you all dearly.“ But the damage had been done, and the fractures within the family ran too deep to be easily mended.

Rhaenyra's toast, seemingly a gesture of reconciliation, momentarily shifted the mood. Alicent responded gracefully, highlighting the common ground between them as mothers, but the facade of harmony was shattered by a seemingly innocent gesture—a pig brought before Prince Aemond, triggering memories of the Pink Dread incident.

Aemond's explosive reaction disrupted the fragile peace. The room fell into an uneasy silence as he stood, expressing a "final tribute" to the health of his nephews, ending the speech with an insult towards the boys calling them "Strong". Chaos erupted as the young princes clashed, and the adults scrambled to intervene. The disastrous dinner culminated in Princess Rhaenyra's decision to retreat to Dragonstone, leaving behind a shattered illusion of family unity. The scars of the past ran too deep, and the once-grand gesture of a family dinner had unraveled into a painful reminder of the irreparable divisions within House Targaryen.

The dimly lit corridors echoed with quiet footsteps as Y/N made his way to his father's chamber. Upon entering, a solemn atmosphere enveloped the room, and Y/N approached King Viserys. As he assisted the ailing monarch in preparing for sleep, Viserys muttered incoherent phrases, and amidst the confusion, Y/N discerned a recurring theme—Aegon's prophecy.

In the hushed moments of their interaction, the weight of impending succession hung in the air. Viserys, in his final moments, seemed to impart a significant task to his son, urging him to fulfill the prophecy. The murmurings faded as the night unfolded, and King Viserys the Peaceful drew his last breath.

As dawn approached, the realm awaited the news of a new leader who would step forward to succeed the late monarch. The corridors, once traversed by Y/N in anticipation, now held the echoes of transition and the uncertainty that accompanied the changing tides of leadership within House Targaryen.

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A/N: This one is slightly longer, but I couldn't help but give Alicent and her kids the husband and father they deserved. We all could agree that Viserys absolutely sucked in these roles. Thank you for all the support and it would mean the world to me if you checked out my other works ♡

#aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #alicent hightower x reader #male reader #otto hightower #viserys targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #daemon targeryen x reader #jaecerys velaryon #lucerys velaryon #aemond one eye #aegon targaryen x reader #helaena targaryen x reader #team green #team black #house of the dragon fanfiction #alicent hightower #targaryen reader #aemond hotd #aemond targaryen fanfic #fic rec #hotd season 2 #princess rhaenyra #king viserys #queen alicent #alicent hightower fanfic #dance of the dragons #aegon ii targaryen #helaena the dreamer #helaena targaryen

[dulcewrites]

Fool Me Once

Pairing: aemond targaryen x reader (wc: 2.4k)

Summary: Learning about Aemond’s indiscretions hurts more than you thought it would, and leads you to accepting help from an unlikely source.

Warnings: gaslighting and manipulation on Aemond’s part, reader being slightly naive :(

A/N: I love rewatching certain eps or scenes for inspo. I got inspo for this watching the iconic knife scene. Very interested lately in writing women that eventually (and rightfully) snap after being actively harmed by patriarchy/the men in their lives. Also alys and aemond meet after the dance starts but let’s pretend they meet right before viserys passes. This will have a slightly ambiguous ending… for funsies 🫶🏽

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You consider yourself a forbearing person. Your resigned nature was natural to you, but also the way you’ve been bred to be. Your mother especially preaching that good things come to those who not only wait but keep their heads while waiting. This idea only got compounded once your family arrived at court in King’s Landing. Now you had septas, on top of your mother, teaching you the ways of a ‘proper’ lady. Demure, well read and groomed, and obedient. You did was expected because what else could you do. Your parents were in your ear telling you do not waste the opportunity in front of you. An opportunity for a better life.

For a time, you thought your mother had a point. You did as you were told, and good things fell into place. Princess Helaena and you became fast friends through your lessons. Your interest in plants crossing over with her interest in insects and arachnids. Through your friendship with her, you caught the eye of Queen Alicent.

Despite your shy disposition, you managed to get in the good graces of the most powerful family in the Seven Kingdoms. You trusted the process.

But the cracks in the restrictive facade started once the discussion marriage entered the picture. You knew marrying for love was not something everyone was afforded, but you thought maybe you had a chance. There were tries for courtships here and there, but it was something you kept putting off. The clock was ticking, and no one let you forget it. Especially after your friends, including Helaena, started getting married and having families of their own.

You still remember the thrilled smile on your mother’s face when Queen Alicent not so subtly suggested a union between Prince Aemond and you.

The One-Eyed Prince. He had been nice enough towards you. But you were sure most of that was out of sheer obligation because his mother and sister liked you. Despite the love you have for Helaena and the respect you have for the queen, the idea of marrying into the family terrified you. You saw the burden and hurt each of them carried. Even with the possibility that Aemond wasn’t as bad as Prince Aegon or King Viserys, his brooding nature still made you nervous for what a marriage with him would mean.

“Your work has paid off my sweet girl”

It took a simple sentence from your mother to change your mind. The ever growing need to be validated spurred you into a decision you’d later question.

The courtship was quick and to the point, much like Aemond. He wasn’t thrilled with the decision. Then again, happiness was not an emotion you’d seen him exude very often. You did not know what it looked like.

Throughout the courting, wedding celebrations, wedding itself and after, you two had a mutual understanding or so you thought.

You saw the change in him. When you’re all but forced to spend your days with someone, you notice their behavior more. He’s lighter it seems. You don’t know how to explain it, but he moves different.

The only feeling you can compare it to is when you were pregnant with Daella, your daughter. For all his faults, you can acknowledge that Aemond is a good father. He was from the moment the maester told you two the news. He was attentive and uncharacteristically warm to you during your pregnancy. And then he acted as if a weight was lifted off his shoulders when she was born. Even now, he indulges her rambunctious antics and playful conduct in a way he wouldn’t for anyone else. His precious byka zaldrīzes

His devotion never wanes when it comes to her. It was a different story for you and him.

It was foolish, but so typical of you. You had done your duty so well that you’re now in the position of having genuine feelings for him. Wanting your husband shouldn’t be a problem. But craving the love and affection of an enigma like Aemond is not for the faint hearted.

“Is my brother with his whore tonight,” his words were cruel, but he genuinely seemed curious. Aegon and you always had a strange relationship. He wasn’t rude though certainly not kind. You remember overhearing the way he described you after you two first met: pretty but terribly dull. You didn’t know what hurt worse: him saying that or the lack of pushback from Aemond.

“Aegon!”

Alicent gives you a pained look before pulling Aegon to side during dinner. You can tell by her scowl and his now sheepish facial expression that she’s using some choice words.

You thank the seven that Daella was asleep after a long day of playing with her cousins and wasn’t at dinner. The empty spot next to you feels vast. This is the third dinner he has missed. It never occurred to you that Aemond would seek companionship elsewhere. Now that it’s on your mind, you can’t forget it.

His whore

Aemond and Aegon are not the same. You know Aemond is not the type for frivolous intimate moments with silk street brothel women. You also know the intimacy he seeks requires knowing someone. He requires way more stimulation. Whether that is a blessing or a curse… you don’t know.

Aegon’s comment had you on high alert. Paranoid even. When Aemond is away, you wonder what he’s doing and who with. It only gets worse the sicker King Viserys grows. It shows on everyone in the family. Queen Alicent gets more anxious for what’s to come, Aegon lashes out, Helaena becomes more cryptic and silent, you wonder how this will impact your already complex relationship with this family, but then there’s Aemond. He shrugs off any ill feelings towards the situation.

At first you wondered if it is because he’s the only one that’s made peace with that relationship never being mended. He didn’t seem to seek out the same approval or explanation for Viserys’ bad parenting that everyone else still craves. With the King dying, meant the chance of change dying as well. But really his mind is elsewhere.

You know you’ve reached a new low when you try to pry information from Ser Criston. If anyone knows where Aemond sneaks off to, you assume it would be Criston. But in the end, it was wrong to go to him. Criston is fiercely loyal to Alicent and in turn fiercely loyal to her children. Though he has treated you kindly, he would never give up more information than he had to.

The idea greatly backfires when then you find yourself the one being questioned.

“If you want to know where I go, you could simply ask,” Aemond’s tone is cool and composed. It makes you uneasy.

He leans leisurely against the wall. You freeze hearing that declaration. Criston must’ve told him about your worries. It feels a bit surreal now having the opportunity to confront him about your thoughts. The words run through your head but never seem to make it out of your mouth.

“You know I like going for long rides with Vhagar,” he starts walking towards you. “She’s older; she needs to stay sharp.”

You do know that. It’s something you found endearing about him, despite how you feel about dragons.

“I just feel like I haven’t seen you much,” you manage to get it out with a forced smile. “Like you’re always away.”

He tilts his head to the side in question. You feel like one of Helaena’s bugs. Inspected and poked.

“You don’t like being around Vhagar,” he points out. “I’d love to take you with me, but you don’t want that now do you.”

You look down at your hands. He doesn’t get it. He has the blood of the dragon flowing through him. For him, Vhagar is a symbol of pride and declaration of love for his ancestors and house. To you, she’s an unpredictable power that you still think humans should not mess with. It’s better to chalk it up to you fearing versus bringing up how you really feel about them. How you share the same skepticism many people across the Seven Kingdoms do. It scares you to think about Daella getting a dragon of her own. You see the awe in her eyes when she looks at her egg or when Aemond tells her stories of the past and present that include them.

Oh, the irony of you being weary of dragons while bounded to a man who rides the biggest of them all.

“No, I don’t,” you mumble. You finally work up the courage to bring up what you really want. “It’s just Aegon said something about you, and I guess it made me think about where you go so often.”

The words adultery or whore make your tongue feel heavy, and don’t come out He sighs once he reaches you, grabbing your face in his hands making you look at him.

“My wife do not let the thoughts of the small minded people cloud your judgment,” he leans his forehead down to yours. “You’re smarter than that.”

He’s not wrong, it is like Aegon stir things up. Aemond has a way of doing this. A way of making you feel silly with his self-assurance. He makes it easy to doubt your gut instincts. His affection has a similar debilitating quality. It’s why your head gets a bit fuzzy when he kisses you. A warm and gentle kiss that left you a bit weak in the knees. You sigh when his lips move to the sensitive spot under your ear.

“We should have another babe,” his whisper makes your eyes shoot open. “Give Daella a sibling.”

You pull away, eyes wide. As much as you loved how Aemond doted on you while you were with Daella, you also remember how difficult the experience was. How towards the end, you were basically confined to the castle as to not risk your health or the babe’s. Your every thought being on the life in your stomach.

“A little warrior would be nice, no?”

Aemond had told you he’s not picky about how many children you two have or even the sex of them. But you’re sure like any noble man, he wants his blood and name passed on as much as possible. Especially as a Targaryen. You’d be lying if you said the thought of a little boy didn’t make you happy. Your children hopefully having a strong bond.

You look at the seemingly earnest look in his eye. You nod with a nervous smile, and he kisses you again. That night being the first of many he tried to put an heir in you.

He wouldn’t want another child while his heart is not it… right?

You gingerly rub your stomach while leaning your head back against the seat. Ever grateful that you have Queen Alicent and Helaena to keep you company and help. Taking Daella off your hands during the day while you rest, your pregnancy making you more tired.

Before you can fall asleep, your lady in waiting peaks her head in the room.

“I’m sorry to disturb you princess, but Lord Strong has requested to see you.”

Your brows furrow. You have seen Larys Strong around, but outside of that he’s been a mystery to you. A figure looming in the background but never someone you interacted with regularly.

“Send him in.”

Lord Strong comes in, small smile on his face. You motion for him to sit in the chair next to you.

“Princess, you’re glowing,” he starts as he sits. “The halls are buzzing with excitement about a new babe.”

You raise a brow. Maybe you outwardly look better than you feel because you don’t feel positively glowing. Not in the slightest. You didn’t feel this exhausted till later when you had Daella.

“Thank you Lord Strong,” you try to keep a kind smile on your face. “What can I do for you today?”

“I just wanted to check in. Let you know that if you need anything, I am always of service.”

You nod slowly, confused about where this is all coming from. What service?

“I know how stressful being with child can be, especially when the father is… busy,” he continues, leaning back in the seat.

Your smile drops. For a time, you did think things were getting better. Aemond seemed excited when you two found out you were with child again. Things were good till they weren’t anymore. He’s not around again, and now you are going to bring another life into an unstable situation. The tone of Larys’ voice makes you uneasy. He smiles like he knows something you don’t.

“I appreciate the kindness, but I do not think your um services are needed.”

He nods at that before reaching into his pocket and handing you what you assume is a letter. He motions you to read it. You stare at the outside of letter. recognizing your husband’s handwriting.

My Alys

Your hands shake as you open the letter. Your vision gets blurred with tears as certain words and phrases stand out. Miss you, need to see you, miserable at King’s Landing, love you. Your squeeze your eyes shut when you see words mistake, baby, and your name in the same sentence.

“Those pesky ravens, sometimes they do the maddest things,” Larys whispers softly. “My princess, the woman the letter is for is an… old friend of mine. If you need me to keep an eye on this or even take care of anything, just let me know. I am always here.”

You look at him as he gets up to leave, lip trembling. Your eyes move stare at the fire in front of you. Fire, blood, and dragons have all consumed your life now.

Is this why you don’t under the understand the obsession with dragons. You hate the ludicrous insistence that you can control them. That if you give them enough love and patience that they will need you the way you need them. Good behavior has gotten you nothing. Doing right by the dragons in your life has gotten you nowhere. Aemond is not yours despite the vows you took, or sacrifices you’ve made for him. The same way your children will never be yours despite the pain you take to have them.

You’ve been burned by the very dragon that’s supposed to protect you.

“Lord Strong,” you blurt before he gets to the door. He turns to you expectedly. “There is something you can do for me actually.”

#aemond x reader #aemond x oc #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #hotd imagine #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon imagine #black!reader #my writing

[aelenavelaryon]

THE GREENS NIGHTMARE

IN WHICH AERA TARGARYEN IN THE KARMA OF TEAM GREEN

Daemon Targaryen x Aera Targaryen

Aera Targaryen was a woman to fear. She was Visenya and Maegor come again. When the war between Rhaenyra and Aegon began, the realm divided into two. The Blacks for Rhaenyra and the Greens for Aegon. Aera Targaryen was a distant relative yet she had been close to Rhaenyra growing up. Once, long ago Aera had been Daemon'a love and once the love of his life. Some would even argue that she was still the love of his life, even when the two were still married.

Aera Targaryen gave Daemon Targaryen four children in their first few years of marriage. Maegor, Baelon, Aemon, and Rhaegar Targaryen. Otto Hightower deemed them bastards because Aera was daughter of Saera Targaryen and Maegor Targaryen, son of Maegor and Rhaena Targaryen. Aera didn't want to return to King's Landing where she was not welcomed. Viserys always allowed Otto to fill his head with lies about her and what she was capable of. Daemon, whilst being married to Rhaenyra, which was a favor that Area had granted her.  Daemon did not see her as more than another family member. Daemon and Aera still had their own late night adventures when she would come visit, seeing as she spent most of her time in Pentos with her mother's family. 

But, from time to time she visited Rhaenyra and Daemon in Dragonstone. Daemon's sons were men grown. Some in their twenties. Not married but with bastard children of their own. Daemon and Aera shared three other children together who were born over the years. He had taken not only Aera as his wife but Rhaenyra too. Area who he had been married to since she was ten and five and he twenty and five. Daemon Targaryen loved his wife, despite what many believed. Aera much to anyone's dismay was a free spirit, bringing not only men into her bed but women too. Alexander Rivers was a bastard son she had with Harwin Strong alongside him, his twin, Alys Rivers who many believed was the daughter of Lyonel but everyone at court knew who were the parents. Alys Rivers would be a important peace for Rhaenyra during the dance.

The Hightowers thought them gone, thinking they would never step a foot in Westeros. But, as soon as Rhaenyra sent a raven to inform her cousin of the news, Aera flew on dragon back to support her girl. The news of Lucerys' death reached her before she made it to Dragonstone, and soon after, the news of Aegon's celebration for his death reached her as well and that was truly what started the fire. 

Instead of keeping route to Dragonstone like she promised, Aera flew to Old Town and set the Hightower's home ablaze for Lucerys's death and celebration of his death. She then, rode to King's Landing where the usurper thought he was coming to bend the knee. Otto nor his spies knew she knew, until from the skies she dropped the heads of every Hightower she killed, Gwayne Hightower being one of the dead. It was said that Alicent Hightower cried, screams were heard all over the Keep as the doweger queen wept over her dead family. They knew then that Aera Targaryen was the blood of the dragon. She was coming for Rhaenyra*s stolen throne. 

'she loves Rhaenyra. Did you truly think she was coming to bend the knew?' Alicent asked Aegon. Otto sat in silence saying nothing. Daeron Targaryen had return to King's Landing the same day he received the letter of his father's death. Daeron was smarter than anyone gave him credit for. He knew, Aera was the real threat, not Rhaenyra, not Daemon but Aera Targaryen was a wild dragon. He knew she was not scared to be known as a kinslayer, specially when it came to him and his siblings. But, he didn't know how far she was willing to go. 

Her arrival at Dragonstone was expected, her children had arrived the day before expecting to see their mother back with their father.  Aera Targaryen arrived and everyone gathered out to greet her. She was covered in blood, they thought she had been attack or something of that mattered. "Mother!" her eldest son ran to her. "I am fine" she told. "I did something bad" she began. Rhaenyra cared very little for what she had to say at that moment.  They retuned back inside the castle, everyone who sided with Rhaenyra was there, well, most of them. 

"I burned those Hightower's to the ground" she said loud enough for everyone to hear. The room went quiet right after that. The war had just begun. Which side will prevail?

#daemon targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #Rhaenyra targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #house targaryen #team black #rhaenys targaryen #baela targaryen #corlys velaryon #rhaena targaryen #daemon targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #harwin strong x reader #house of the dragon x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #game of thrones x reader #alicent hightower x reader

[theprincessofthemidwest]

Its always

"Are you team green?"

Or

"Are you team black?"

But never

"Are you Team Milf?"

I am really only here for the women and the dragons. I'm just gonna be truthful.

#rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #house of the dragon #hotd #team black #team green #rhaenicent #queen rhaenyra #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #alicent hightower x reader

[mellowpainternut]

Writers maked Aegon a pedo just because Mushroom said it "99.9% of his words are lie" And I don't have any problem with that ok?

But if they gonna make him a pedo and make people hate him, they also should make Mushroom others words true too.

They should make Rhaenyra have her half sister and step mother raped.

They should make Jace a cheater.

They should make Daemon a pedo rapist who cheat on his wife and then abandon his family to sleep with a 17 y/o.

If they really want to give us the right to choose our team, then they should not discriminate.

They should not cover blacks mistakes and only make greens look bad.

It's not a fairytale book about love and a strong princess who wants to save the world.

It's not about a feminist story with a lesbian relationship between two little girl.

This story is about two fucked up siblings that ruined Targaryens.

It's about two greedy, spoiled and cruel siblings who fought for iron throne.

It's not about Alicent and Rhaenyra, it's about Aegon and Rhaenyra.

It's not about a romance between Rhaenyra and Daemon. It's about how their relationship was toxic and how they used each other.

It's not about a hero and villain, it's about two super villain who been nothing but cruel.

It's about a dumb narcissistic woman and a broken mad man.

It's not about beauty and love. It's about blood and war.

The whole point of this book is to show how awful both side were and why because of two cunt house Targaryen fall.

Aegon wasn't a coward who wanted to escape. He did everything to protect his family. He was the one who fought for his family and survived, he was the one who survived the dragon fire while Rhaenyra literally did nothing and watched as her family died. He was the one who lost his everything for something that he never wanted but was forced to accept because he wanted to protect his family. He lost his family that he tried to protect, he lost his children, he lost his pride Sunfyre, he lost his body, he lost his mind, and he was betrayed. He was the most tragic character in the story yet in the show he's just a pedo rapist.

Rhaenyra was a fucking liar, a whore who opened her legs for any man that she liked, a fucking narcissist, she was literally female Maegor yet they maked her the most tragic who only became cruel after her child died even though she was always a spoiled and dumb woman who just wanted to kill anybody who said true about her bastards. Yet they maked her a fucking saint. A boss bitch with her womanly power. Someone who can do no wrong.

I'm so fucking tired of this show.

#anti hotd #anti rhaenyra targaryen #anti daemon targaryen #anti team black #anti house of the dragon #pro team green #team green #aegon ii targaryen #aegon the second #alicent hightower #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #house of the dragon #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon ii x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond x reader

[maomao92]

Don't y'all hate it when Tumblr artists/writers put a link to their patreon for the smutty parts like we got money to pay for that shit, like the fuck you want us to pay you with, acorns 🤨

#anime smut #anime x black!reader #bi han x reader #hakari x reader #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #record of ragnarok x reader #record of ragnarok #jjk smut #sds x reader #haikyuu smut #black reader

[ophelieverse]

Oppy my baby,can you please please please take in consideration to write something about my man Cregan Stark?🥺🥺

⊹˚₊only you could have called me back home

Cregan Stark x fem!reader

-Summary:reader is from house Manderly and she meets Cregan when they are kids,during his stay at her house she reads him a book about mermaids to help him sleep during a storm.Years later he does the same thing for their children.

-I finally gave in and decided to try.This is the first time that I write for Cregan,even though i love him very much and i can’t wait to see him(I pictured in my mind Tom Taylor)so forgive me if this sucks.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It was night,late evening.

The sky,which was usually a dark blue,was covered by a thick blanket of gray clouds that made the stars and that moon disappear,which were supposed to illuminate New Castle of White Harbor.The blue blazon with the green merman holding a trident,symbolizing House Manderly,was dancing in the wind.

A little girl,who seemed to be not older than eight years old,was observing the world and that summer storm,one of many she had seen in just a month.Sitting in her chamber,on the carpet in front of the window that brought into that small balcony,curled up and with her arms hugging her legs,she let her eyes get lost in counting the thousands of droplets that rested on that sheet of glass.

She began to stare at a drop of rain,trying to see it flow along the entire length of the window.But this one soon disappeared,bursting into smaller droplets or joining others.

For Lady Y/n Manderly,the rain made everything so fascinating.

She came closer to the glass,almost squashing her face against the door-windows and waiting for a thunder to arrive.She had never been afraid of thunderstorms,quite the contrary.She found them fascinating.She still couldn't conceive that all that noise and lights came from nature and not from something created by men.

Watching a thunderstorm was more interesting than reading a book.Her mother used to read her dozen of them to help her sleep at night,especially during storms like this one.But at the end,the books in their library all looked alike and never change final.If she didn't want to read them anymore she could just close them.While thunderstorms are unexpected and uncontrollable.But above all,always different.

People can never predict the duration or intensity of a thunderstorm.You can just try to guess or stay and observe it.And Y/n loved to see thunderstorms.

But that wasn't the case for everyone.

The little girl knew for sure that there was someone who instead hated them and had a big fear of them.A young boy,just of two years older than she was,the son of the protector of the North,had revealed that he was very afraid of storms during one.

Lord Rickon Stark had arrived to White Harbor four nights before,just in time for dinner,to discuss with Lord Desmond Manderly,Y/n father,about the union of their houses.A calm but still noisy storm was what welcomed them,alongside the blue and green blazon of New Castle.

Y/n didn't understand what was scary about those lights and noises,but she couldn't help but think about what the boy was feeling at the time.

That boy who was also her husband to be once they would be old enough to marry.They already knew each other,they had met in different occasions and places,yet they had never forged a particular bond or friendship.

Their characters were particularly different and they both knew that they would find themselves colliding easily if they became friends.Moreover, there had never been a particular opportunity to get to know each other better.They were always surrounded by their families,politicians and maidens.

They were simply two children,two heirs of big and powerful houses and one day they will become husband and wife.Nothing more,nothing less.

And yet,at that moment Y/n was just thinking.She was just thinking about Cregan.That was his name and what he had told her to call him when she had addressed him as “Lord Stark” with a polite bow.

Y/n wondered if he wasn't scared.

She remembered once,when there was a tournament in Lannisport,he didn’t showed up to see the horses in the morning when it started to rain.Once again,during a visit a the Wall he had been more restless than usual when he had heard the sound of the thunders.

But didn't the dark sky of the evening emphasize the whole thing even more?

Y/n loved night thunderstorms,she found them even more impressive.But also scary.Especially now that her mother was heavily pregnant and needed to stay in bed to rest,meaning that she couldn’t read her stories to help her sleep better.

In Y/n that fear gave a sudden adrenaline rush,but in Cregan no,she could have said it with certainty.So,after thinking about it for too long,the little girl got up,took the cloak on the chair and without even thinking anymore,she opened the window-door wide and within seconds she found herself on the balcony,while the rain was beginning to increase slowly.

That wing of the castle was where both Y/n and her brothers chambers were,the same place where young Cregan was staying,in the room right next to hers.

Y/n stayed for a while to observe the sky,and the drops of rainwater falling on the palm of her hand that she had turned upwards,fascinated by everything as a child could be.But she hadn't gone out to the balcony to admire all that,no.

If she had only wanted to do that,she would have been content to sit in front of the front door-windows as she had until then,instead of getting wet.

No,Y/n had gone out to check on Cregan.To make sure that he was alright.

Their balconies were connected,divided only by a low wall of light bricks.She had often seen the young boy on that balcony in those days,watching people occupying those crowded streets or just wanting to breathe some air.

And on those occasions they had just waved to each other politely with kind smiles.

Y/n knew that the window on that balcony led to the room where Cregan was staying.

Still in the rain,half protected by the windowsill of the upper floor,she barely reached out her neck to observe the young boy room.But it was dark and the curtains were pulled,a sign that Cregan was probably already sleeping,as he would on any night.

The little Lady wanted to call herself a fool for coming out of her room just to make sure that he was okay,a boy whose she exchanged a few words and nothing else.The same boy that one day would have been her husband but the she didn’t knew nothing about.

Yet,in some way,she was relieved.Relieved that he was not awake yet and afraid of those thunders.

A part of Y/n wanted to go back into her room and go back admiring that storm from behind the glass plate of the window,but first she got closer to the wall that separated her from her neighbor.

To,she said to herself,just to check more closely.Just to make sure.

But check what exactly?

Y/n shook her head.She really had to be out of her mind if now she was worried about an almost - stranger that seemed to not like her at all.She made to retrace her steps,when a curled figure caught her attention.

Sitting on the ground,with his shoulders leaning against the wall of that balcony and with a black cloak on him,he stood with his head hidden by the hood.Still like a statue,with his arms around his legs.Half of his body was protected under the windowsill,while the other half was being wet by that rainwater.

Y/n tilted her head to the side,confused.

“Who is that?And what are they doing?”she wondered.

Even though she knew very well who it was.It couldn't be anyone other than him.

«Cregan?»Y/n spoke without having the slightest control over her voice,attracting the attention of the boy.

Cregan raised his head,which he had kept sunk between his legs until that moment,turning his head then towards the young lady on the other side of the wall.His eyes were usually clear and calm,but now they were wide open with astonishment.

Wide in a way that Y/n couldn't but find adorable.

She ignored these thoughts and just reopened her mouth«What are you doing out here?Don't you see .. ?It's raining.»she asked with a soft tone.

“As if i hadn't noticed,Y/n”Cregan wanted to tell her with a little voice.He wouldn't have put on his cloak if he hadn't seen the rain.

But a part of him decided to keep his mouth closed.Lady Y/n was immensely pretty under the pale moonlight and wet by the rain.He had always been fascinated by her,by the way her eyes shined bright and the way she talked fast about something she liked and knew about.She made him nervous to speak whenever he was around her,she was far smarter and wiser than him even at that young age,always so kind and he was afraid to make a fool out of himself.Especially when he was still scared of thunderstorms.

Cregan didn't answer,just staring at her with his big blue eyes.

«Are you hurt?»Y/n brown furrow as she scanned his pale face to find something.

The rain kept falling and it seemed that its intensity continued to increase as the seconds passed.The trees in front of that castle moved to the right and left,driven by a force they already knew,but which they were still unable to repel.

Cregan shook his head and then spoke«I'm scared of thunderstorms.»he just said.

Y/n nodded«I know that.But why are you outside?»she offered him a kind smile.

Cregan seemed to think about it for a while, undecided whether to say everything to her or keep shut up.But there was something in her,something that was pulling in from the inside.Something that was screaming at him to tell her everything that he was afraid of,because with her it would be safe,she would have kept him safe.She would’ve understood him and comforted him.

He chose the second option and returned to stare at an indefinite point of his cloak,hoping that the young lady with wet hair and sweet eyes would soon leave,leaving him alone.As he had only been until recently.

One day Cregan would have been Lord Stark,protector of the great North and he needed to learn to not be afraid of thunderstorms on his own.But Y/n presence,the little girl that would become his wife,was louder than any thunder and brighter than any light.

In fact she had no intention of leaving.

«I'm scared of thunderstorms.»he found himself repeating and then adding«I really can't stand them.»he murmured.

She listened to him carefully,standing in front of that little wall,while Cregan continued to turn his back on her and look down as he spoke again:

«I can't sleep when there are thunderstorms.And being alone in the room,in the dark with only sudden flashes to illuminate,is scary.»he explained quietly.

Y/n nodded sympathetically,although she didn't find anything scary at all in his description.But for once she tried to put herself on Cregan side.

«So why don't you go to your father?My mother always makes me sleep with her when I have nightmares.»she asked with curiosity.

Cregan shook his head,clutching in that heavy cloak«He doesn’t want to.He say I have to overcome my fears sooner or later.»he said,with a glint of sadness in his eyes.

Y/n curled her nose,confused«And do you get over them by standing in the rain?»squeezing her hands to create a little bit of warmth.

This time he took some time to respond.

Then,shifting his gaze towards the horizon«It's less scary.I can see the lights of the villages and the boats passing by and I know I'm not the only one awake.I know I'm not alone.»he found himself admitting«It's less scary.Or at least I think…»

He didn't know why he was saying these things.Especially to her.For all his ten almost eleven years he had carried that fear of his with him without saying anything to anyone.Revealing his fear only to himself.And seeking comfort only in him.

A comfort that most of the time was not enough.

His father kept telling him that he was grown up by now,that he had to overcome his fear of thunderstorms by now.A fear that was too childish for his age.For the Lord he was destined to be.How could he protect people when he was the first to be scared?He needed to start acting like a man.

But how adult can a ten year old be?

Without meditating on his words,Y/n replied«And are you going to stay out here all night?Until the thunderstorm stops?»her angel face was worried.

Cregan just nodded,without staring at her directly in the eyes.The little girl made a grimace that the other could not see.It was the stupidest thing she had ever heard.Yet she still didn't find the strength to leave him alone.Leave him there alone and go back to her room.

Y/n had felt,she had felt for a few seconds,almost a perceptible thread that drew her to Cregan.Maybe she was just imagining everything. Maybe it was just her childish mind that was playing tricks on her.Or maybe it was just that summer storm fault.

She didn't know,but now she felt tied to the boy with the dark cloak and blue eyes.

«Come.»Y/n voice was firm and warm.

Cregan jolted,surprised to still hear the young girl voice.He thought she had returned to the heat of her room by now.And instead there she is,on the other side of the low wall,reaching out to him with a pure smile on her face.

“She’s cute when she smiles.”Cregan immediately thought,noticing her soft eyes and all her teeth shining in the light of the torches in the street.

He also found her so reassuring.That kind of safety that he desperately needed.

«Where?»he asked confused.

Y/n smiled at him again,getting closer and reaching out her hand again,almost touching his face making him shiver.

«If you spend the night out here you're going to get sick.If you don't want to be alone,I'll keep you company.»she stated fiercely and he knew nothing would’ve changed her mind.

They were simple words.Words of a child of eight,almost nine,years old.Yet Cregan swore he had never heard such beautiful words.No one had ever given him such attention and didn't know whether or not to trust that young lady.

They had met numerous times and now they were even betrothed to each other,but they weren’t exactly friends.

And Cregan was very skeptical to those he knew very little.Especially the ones that made him feel nervous just by looking at him.

He decided to refuse Y/n invitation.

But when he made to decline the offer,the first of many flashes lit up the sky,followed by a noise so loud that raised Cregan hair,or more commonly called thunder.

The boy snapped to his feet in fear.Perhaps the idea of going out,so as not to stay in the dark of his room,had not been the best.Or maybe it was the worst idea that had ever occurred to him and only now did he find it stupid.

«So?Are you coming or not?»Y/n called for his attention again,noting the thin veil of blush on his pale cheeks.

She was younger than him by only two years,yet she was still more mature than him.She had this aura surrounding her,of someone that would have took care of him.Someone he could really start to trust and lay down his strength.A little sun,personal and only for him,to remind him that the storms he was so afraid of were only temporary while she would have been by his side forever.

Cregan found himself shaking Y/n hand,who helped him climb over the wall that divided them, and in a moment he was on the other balcony.

He crossed his eyes again with those of his future wife,who immediately answered him with another sweet smile and opened the window door,to let him enter in the warmth of her room and protect him from that storm.

Immediately closed the door behind them and,after a moment of uncertainty she spoke first«Give me your cloak,i’ll put it here with mine so that tomorrow the servants can wash them.»she told him,taking her off to remain in her pink nightgown.

Cregan blushed even more as he nodded as if in a trance and took off his dark cloak,handing it over to her and revealing a pastel-colored pajamas.

He thought it was impossible for a room to look like it owner,but Y/n bedroom was just like her:a mess of colors,books everywhere and with a pleasant warmth that made him feel safe.

«Why are you still awake?»Cregan suddenly asked,trying to not move around too much.

The little girl took two pillows from her bed and a blanket,walking to the fluffy carpet in front of the old fireplace that the servants had lighted up before she went to bed,once the thunderstorm had started.

«I like to watch the storms.»she said,patting the empty space next to her with one hand«Also,now that my mother is pregnant and my father stays up with his advisors,i need to check on her.»she continues.

Cregan looked at her carefully,the long hair falling free on her shoulders,her perfect face.He was right,she so much mature than he was,already taking care of everyone around her at such a young age,just like a proper lady should.

As he took place next to her on the pavement,still keeping a proper distance between them,Cregan realized that he didn't know anything about her.But he knew how much she loved her mother as he always saw the two of them holding hands.He didn't know if she had the same relationship with her father,who seemed to prefer her older brothers,but he still didn't have enough closeness to ask her for more information.

In fact,they had absolutely no closeness and it could be seen in the silence that fell between the two children.One of those silences that always arise in similar situations,when two people don't know each other but have to spend time together.

«Would you like to do something?»Y/n calm voice sounded even more melodious up close.

She tried to mask that awkwardness with a polite tone,asking her guest with a kind expression.

Cregan spoke little and for the rest of the time he just agreed or disagreed on a certain statement.

The younger of the two was shrinking her minds to think of some kind of game to play together, but the boy next to her would just stare at her,frowning,as if he was annoyed by that situation,while standing close to window of that room like he wanted to escape that situation.

Y/n curled her nose,bored by that sudden superior attitude that Cregan was carrying on himself.

«Look,you can still go back in the rain if you prefer.»she told him,with a sour tone.

She felt bad to see him frightened by that thunderstorm,but if he didn't even show her a minimum of gratitude or a spirit of collaboration, then he could very well leave.Y/n was a sunny child,always with a smile on her face and ready to raise the morale of anyone who needed it.

But“This boy is really unpleasant”she thought.

Cregan crossed his arms to his chest,squeezing his eyes and staring at her,offended and angry at the same time.He thought that he shouldn’t have accepted her invitation and that both their fathers had made a mistake by promising them.They would never get along.

He could very well go back to his room and overcome that storm on his own,as he had always done until then.He didn’t need Y/n help.He made a grimace in the direction of the little girl,who responded to the gesture by raising her eyes to the sky.

But when he was about to open the window door and return to his room,without his dark cloak,a flash illuminated the sky and his face.

Cregan eyes went wide,as he was falling backwards and ending up on the ground on his butt as he waited for the arrival of the thunder that did not take long to arrive.His lower lip trembled,while he couldn't move any muscle.

He hated how thunderstorms could do this to him.He hated how they could make him tremble and frighten.

“They are a normal thing,dictated by nature”his father had always told him.

Yet Cregan didn't believe it.He continued to hate thunderstorms.

And something told him that this fear of his would never go away.

«Cregan.... are you all right?»he heard a soft voice behind his back.

Cregan looked up and saw Y/n standing on her knees on the carpet and he only remembered at that moment of her presence.

The boy gasped,looking for an answer.But before he could speak,another flash lit up the room,and before the thunder could be heard,Cregan had already put his hands on his ears.

The arrogant facade,which he had previously put on,had now completely crumbled, revealing his insecure and frightened side.

Y/n didn't know what to do.

The annoyed face she had a little while ago,was gone.Now she was really worried for him.She just wanted to find a way to distract him,and to put an end to that clash of lights that illuminated the room.

Cregan did not move,with his head resting on his bent knees,and the palms of his hands were still covering his ears,in the vain hope of not hearing that almost metallic and shackled noises.

«It’s alright,don't worry.»Y/n tried to reassure him.But it seemed that no one could move the young boy.

«They usually just make a big noise and then they go away.»she continued with a reassuring voice getting closer to him.

But Cregan was still shaking, scared,and Y/n didn't know what to do.She was never scared of thunderstorms.She would have liked to hold him tight in a hug,to drive away all his fear.But she knew that if she did,she would only make things worse.

In the meantime,Cregan continued to make himself small,smaller and smaller,curled up almost on himself on that light pavement.

«I mean…deep down it's just water,isn't it?Water and lights.As if it were an ocean... and the oceans are beautiful,aren't they,Cregan?»she asked with a hint of hope.

Y/n was used to the water,she lived near the sea and she had grew up running up and down on her fathers boats with her brothers.Her mothers read her stories about fishes,sailors,mermen and mermaids.

And while he did not respond,too busy controlling his fear,Y/n came up with an idea.

«I know what to do!»she almost screamed,catching Cregan attention and shicking around the room,as if looking for something.

The boy looked at her confused,forgetting – but only for a short time – of the thunderstorm.

«There you are.»Y/n exhaled,almost relieved.

Cregan blinked,observing the more confusion she had created throughout that room,the books scattered on the floor and the cabinets wide open,just for that medium-sized old book she now held in her hands,with a proud and satisfied smile.He didn't understand what use that book could have,but he didn't breathe,limiting himself to observing the young girl sitting carefully next to him and opening it.

And then millions of billions of fishes began to swim between the old pages.Cregan mouth widened into an “o”, but he quickly closed it again before Y/n could notice his astonishment.It's just a very simple book of fairy tales,he said to himself.

Yet,in some way,it had distracted him.

«If you lie down on the bed,you can see them better.»Y/n spoke,making herself comfortable on her bed and starting to turning the pages.

Cregan grimaced,watching how she was smiling.That wasn’t proper.

«Why should I lie down-»yet another thunder«Alright... I lie down.»he immediately changed his mind.

He hurriedly took the steps that separated him from that bed,before sinking into the lavander sheets that smelled of flowers and vanilla.

Y/n by his side smiled at him.But Cregan didn’t,remaining impassive and jolting at every thunder.She closed the curtains around her bad,only the soft light of the candle on the nightstand remain.The 'lightning' factor had been solved.

«They're beautiful,aren’t they?»she said,tracing with her fingers the different fishes.

They were.Their shapes,colors,sizes were mesmerizing.

Cregan didn't know to answer again.Those bright,fishes seemed to moved quickly on all those pages in a continuous flow.They were simple,so damn simple,yet they had caught the his attention.

«Yes,they ar–»he tried to agree with her,but here's yet another thunder made him jump out of fear.

Y/n by his side watched him close his eyes and plug his ears with both hands.

She had to find a way to distract him from the sounds too.

«You see him?»she turned the page and pointed to a strange figure on the right corner.

A man with a tail of a fish.

Cregan turned to her,taking his hands off his ears and moving his eyes on what Y/n finger was pointing to.

«It’s a merman?»he sounded uncertain,the figure on the book looked like the blazon of house Manderly.

Y/n nodded her head confirming his question«They said that he loved another mermaid and when the pirates had captured her,driven by grief,he turned his body in marble creating White Harbor.»she explained him,showing him another picture of the place where now she was living.

Cregan looked confused,his eyebrows raising«Why would he do that?»

The girl next to him sighed,her shoulder touching his,the sweet perfume of her hair was tickling his nose.She was warm and soft and made his stomach twist and his hands sweat.

«I guess that he couldn’t live without her and preferred to die.»she simply answered«Years ago i used to cry when my mother read me this story.»she continued as she flipped the page.

In the dim light,he could see that her eyes were a little glassy and only now he remembered that just like him,she was still a child with fears like him and stories that made her cry in her mother arms.

«How about her?»Cregan eyes and hand went to point to a female picture.

A mermaid with a red tale and long wet red hair on her shoulders,sitting on a rock near the coast.Her beautiful expression seemed pained,her mouth opened as if she was saying something.In the distance seemed that a storm was coming,the waves crashing into the shore,dark clouds on the horizon.

Y/n smiled,stretching the book out to him so that he could take a better look«She was a princess that fell in love with a sailor.Her father,the King of the fourteen seas had forbidden their love.»she started to explain with a soft tone«They could see each other only on the beginning of the Long Summer,when her father was away in the ocean»she said.

Cregan yawned«And how did they knew when the Long Summer came?»he seemed genuinely interested now.

«The storm.»Y/n quickly answered«It was her way to let him know that she was waiting for him.She was calling him back to her.»in her expression he could find a hint of teasing.

He shuddered,the thing that scared him the most,for this children book,was just a mermaid calling for her lover.

«But how does he know?»he asked again and his voice was becoming softer,his eyes closing a bit,yet he stayed very curious about the story.

«Does he know what?»Y/n whispered.

«That it was her.»he continued.

«Because he had loved no else but her in his life.Only her could have called him back home.»she explained and he swore he could’ve seen her eyes shine bright.

«I hate her father.»Cregan mumbled.

He found it stupid,it was just a fairy tale to help people sleep,but if the mermaid father didn’t get in the way tonight he would’ve been scared.And that’s also must had been the reason why she wasn’t afraid of them.

Y/n giggles made him blush,as she shook a little onto him«But you know what’s the best part of it?For the rest of the summer there wouldn’t be any other storms,just the bright sun as the two of them could be together.»she whispered.

It was a way to say that after every thunderstorm that would’ve been the sun.Always.

«Wasn’t she scared of her father founding out that they were still together?»his voice was sleepy and his eyes heavy.

Y/n shook her head«Love is stronger than fear.»she stated«Don’t you find it beautiful?»she said then,a dreamy look in her eyes.

There was no answer.

Y/n turned to him,finding him with his eyes closed and his mouth half-open.His chest would rise and fall at a regular pace,while his slight breathing could be heard.She smiled at that sight as she stroked his hair.

Cregan had fallen asleep.Y/n was satisfied.Satisfied and happy.

She succeeded in her intent,help him and distract him from the thing that scared him the most.She wondered what Cregan would do at this time if Y/n hadn’t invited him?

He would probably still have been awake.Because the thunderstorm hadn't stopped,no,it had never stopped.The mermaid was still calling for her lover.

The flashes,however,had mixed in the images on the pages and the noise of thunder had been lost among the stories of Y/n mermaids.Cregan had been so busy observing those images drawn on the book and hating the King of the seas,that he completely forgot about the thunderstorm.

Y/n closed the book,placed it carefully on her nightstand and reached out to grab a thin sheet at the bottom of their feet and covered the young boy who slept well by her side.

«Good night,Cregan.Tomorrow there will be the sun,i promise you.»she whispered kissing his forehead and drifting to sleep too.

And for the first time,after so many years,he slept.After so many years,Cregan was sleeping peacefully with a thunderstorm.

On any day in the early summer,ten years later,Lady Y/n Stark of Winterfell was laying in the bed she shared with her Lord husband.

Wife and husband,that’s what her and Cregan had been for the past four years.But before pronouncing their vows in front of the Seven and their families,they had became the best of friends.

When did they start calling each other that way?When did they become friends?Could they find a precise moment when they had gone from being strangers to even best friends?Were they able to establish the exact moment when their bond changed?

No,they couldn’t.

Maybe it was the year after that fateful rainy night.Maybe it was the next month when Cregan had spent all of his moments and attention in Y/n presence,falling in love with her more and more.

Or maybe it had happened at the exact time their hands had touched,when Y/n had proposed to be together in that thunderstorm,to mark the point of change for their relationship.

They didn't know that though.Neither of them knew for sure.But they didn't even ask.They fell in love with each other before they got married and that was that mattered.There are bonds that are born before the interlocking of the hands and connections that are born before touching each other.It was just pretty to think that,all this time,there was some kind of invisible string that was tying them together.

Anyone who cared for Cregan had to understand that he needed a little looking after.Someone who could help him sleep,who reminded him that he was just human and that he could still a child sometimes.And Y/n understood that,she held him gently,far more gently that anyone ever did.She stayed up with him when he couldn’t sleep at night,she stood next to him to greet the arrival of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon and supported him in his decision to fight for the Dragon Queen.

All because she loved him more than anything and because he loved her.To love and to be loved was to rest.

Yet,now that Cregan was away,on the Wall of the great north with the young prince,Y/n couldn’t seem to find sleep.It was raining heavily outside,the long summer had arrived earlier that year and a violent storm was what welcomed it.

The pale rays of the moon filtered through the clouds,the wind was blowing against the windows,the lights of the lightning shaped the dark room she was in.

Cregan had ruined her,she thought to herself,ever since they got married and started to share the bed she couldn’t sleep if he wasn’t next to her,holding her in his arms,kissing her lips softly and whispering how much he loved her.But she knew that,with the war at their doorstep,he was busy with the young prince Jacaerys who came two weeks ago in ask for the help of the North.

Her husband was a man of honor,the Lord of Winterfell that never forget his oaths.

When a particular loud thunder broke through the quietness of the castle,Y/n got up from her bed.Taking the candle on the nightstand,she started walking down the dark corridor to reach her children chambers.Her sons,Rickon and Brandon,only four and two years old,looked exactly like their father:true men of the north but with their mother eyes and kind smile.

Just like their father they were scared of storms,it took her hours to put them to bed that night since the first drop of rain had hit the ground.They both reminded her the first time that she had spent with Cregan during one of those,curling up on her as she read them one of her books to help them sleep.

But that night was different,after two weeks of writing letters and longing,Cregan was finally home.As she quietly opened the door,the candle that Y/n was holding in her hand almost fell,when she saw her husband sitting on a chair in between the two beds where their sons seemed to sleep so soundly and well.

He was still wearing his dark fire coat and his long were wet,the tip of his nose red from the cold,while in his hands he was holding a old fairy tale book that they both knew very well.As if he had heard her behind the door,he smiled,and his face was like the sun.

He had came back as soon as he had heard the first sounds of the thunders,like a sailor bewitched by the melody of a siren voice.His sons were the first ones to greet him,running barefoot down the hallways to reach comfort in their father strong arms.

Cregan had been there before,his heart clenched in his chest as he dried the tears off their eyes and saw the fear on their little faces.But he knew what he had to do,unlike his father,he would always be there for help his children no matter what.

«The mermaid had waited all winter for her lover return,her voice guided him through the storm.»his voice was quiet and soft like a warm blanket«With the first lights of the new sun,he came back to her.»in his hands the hold book.

His oldest son yawned«But wasn’t he afraid of the storm?»Rickon asked,holding his teddy bear closer to his chest.

«He was.»Cregan nodded«But you know what is stronger than fear?»he whispered,noticing his younger son fast asleep.

Rickon shook his head,his eyes fighting to urge to close«What?»he chirped.

«Love.»his father simply answered«The idea of coming back to his lover was stronger than the fear of the storm.»Cregan stood up,caressing his son head.

«One day i want to love someone this much.Just like you love mama.»Rickon murmured sleepy,with a little smile on his face.

«And you will.»he promised«One day you will have someone that will help you overcome your fears and that will always call you back home when you are wondering too far.»he kissed both of his sons forehead.

Cregan was still a little nervous about storms,but that night he was finally back home as sun on water.Y/n reached for him and skimmed her hands over the light of him.

«I missed you.»she whispered on his lips,kissing him sweetly.

Cregan was holding her in his arms,gently caressing her hair,his forehead on hers«I saw the storm and i knew.»he smiled,trailing his lips on her chin and cheeks.

Y/n shivered,not only because his icy fingers were rubbing up and down her back,but because only her could understand the meaning of those words.The intimacy of having something only them could share with each other.

«So you came back early because of the storm?»she giggled as his beard tickled her beautiful face.

He smiled even more,tightening his grip on her smaller body«I came back because of you.Only you could have called me back home.»he whispered placing a kiss on her lips.

The smell of her hair,the taste of her mouth,the feeling of her skin seemed to have gotten inside of him or in the air all around him.She had become a physical necessity,not only to ease his fear,but to have someone to come back to.

She placed her head on his chest,listening to his heartbeat beating alongside hers.They stood there for a moment more,embracing each other,in the dark corridor.

«Do you hear it?»Y/n softly asked suddenly.

«Hear what?»Cregan voice was low.

«The sound of the rain.»she explained,closing her eyes and relaxing against his touch.

For a while they just listened to the incessant ticking of the rain,while a thousand fish continued to swim on the pages of their book.

But suddenly a flash illuminated the corridor,followed by the due thunder.

Y/n jolted,expecting her husband to do the same.

Yet this was not the case«Aren't you afraid of thunderstorms anymore?»she teased him.

«How can I be afraid of thunderstorms when I'm by your side?»he said,caressing her cheek lovingly.

«Tomorrow there will be the sun.»she smiled against him,brighter than any light.

She was right,after the storm there was always the warm weather and Y/n was the golden sun at the horizon.That one thing that gave him hope for a brighter future,the only one that could bring him back home.Because his sleepless nights are better with her than any nights could ever be alone.

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd spoilers #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon spoilers #dance of the dragons #team black #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark #cregan x reader #cregan fanfiction #cregan x you #cregan x y/n #hotd cregan #cregan stark imagine #tom taylor #jacaerys velaryon #hotd x y/n #hotd x reader #x reader #x y/n #hotd imagine #fluff #love #imagine

[lady-ashfade]

Hi could you please do yandere house of dragon x Helena twin and when Luke takes Aemond eye he also accidentally cut reader neck, and when they everyone’s gathered Alicent going crazy, reader faints making everyone extremely worried. Luke felt terrible ?

More Then A Eye

Yan!Various!HOTD Characters x Fem!Reader

Made this were the reader was the only one injured because that makes it more fun, and also might make a part 2 so that will come into play if I make that. Also feel like if it was just the reader it would be more interesting.

Warnings: Blood, gore, knifes, violence, yandere actions, reader being injured, me going slight into-depth on how the reader gets cut. Pretty much the whole thing.

Reader wants the family to all get along while the chaos is going on. She is sweetheart like her sister, but she doesn’t have the sight as her sister does. So she notices most of what’s happening, the other half of her sister.

Reader stops Aemond from getting picked on when she’s near because she has the power to make the boys calm, and the rest of the family at that. So she can get mad and upset so aemond feels at ease when his sister is around. But all the boys long for her affection and love, so they all cling to her.

The funeral is a very sad time for her since she loved Laena and the thought of her cousins losing their mother. Or her uncle losing his wife.

So to the readers surprise when she see aemond and jace have a small moments it brings a warmth to her chest in this dark time. Hoping that this was the gods way to bring her family together, but her hopes soon vanished when night came.

She had heard the others walk through the hallways as she tried to fall asleep, opening her door and their whispering calls. They got her attention and claimed someone stole vhagar so she went with them.

“I think we need to wake up our parents.” But her words were shoot down as they dragged her through the halls and down through the castle.

As soon as she saw the white hair she knew it was aemond and she wished she stayed in bed. The kids started to shout, while aemond replied in a time she never heard before, not shy. But proud and filled with venom.

When the fight broke out and all the reader could do was scream and cry for them to stop, but her body froze up. As soon as aemond grabbed ahold of Luke she ran towards him and grabbed ahold of his arm.

“Please, do not hurt them anymore. We- We can all stop this madness,” she looked around at all of them with tears. “Let us all be family.” Aemond was so caught up in his own wrath he pushed the reader back so she wouldn’t get in his way.

He threw Luke to the ground after calling jace and Luke “Strongs.” Then throwing the younger boy to the ground. Jace pulled out a small knife and the reader gasp as they fought again, but the knife was thrown elsewhere.

She watched as Luke crawled to the knife with a interesting to hurt aemond so her body moved on its own. “Aemond!” Just as she shouted she was cut off with the sound of flesh being cut with his blade and gushing sounds. They watch the horror in front of their eyes go down. Blood rolling down her throat and gasped of failed attempts of air when she fell to the ground with her hands clawing at her own throat.

Luke dropped the knife and steps back in disbelief of what was happening. Aemond caught his sister and laid her down in his arms trying to stop the bleeding. “How could you! I’ll kill you! I’ll feed you to my dragon.” He started to cry as did the others.

“What’s going on here?” The guards shouted as the walked up on the children and soon realized the princess. They took her in their arms and sent for the maester and the king at once. Everyone soon garnered in the hall for what had happened.

Alicent screamed when she first saw her daughter and it was loud that everyone in the castle heard. Running to her daughter with tears in her eyes she started to move her hair out of the way as the maester worker. Viserys screamed at the guards to answer who had done it but he wasn’t expecting his own grandsons. Aemond sat at his mothers side while handing the readers hand. Healana looked at the ground with a sob. She had saw it in a nightmare once’s that felt so real, this exact moment.

The boys stayed back and far away. Luke not even daring to look at the reader knowing he caused her harm and pain. All of them wondering if she would be dead soon. Alicent was so focused she didn’t even pay attention to anything but the reader being life and to keep her that way.

When rhaenrya entered it was hell to pay. Reader had just got done with her stitches while still knocked out cold as her body tried to heal itself. “You,” Alicent screamed and pointed at the princess. “You’re filthy sons did this.” Rhaenrya had not see the reader yet as she looked at her sons. When her eyes looked onto the readers body her eyes went wide and looked back at her sons not believing a word.

“They did this?” She asked around the room as the boys tensioned up. “It’s true, jace brought the knife to the fight and his brother, Luke, did the deed.” Cole spiked with a snare. Luke tugged at his mother’s sleeves, “But I did not mean too. Aemond was going to kill jace! The reader got in the way.” All the children started to scream their own defense as everyone watched.

The king was mad but not at the children but at the guards for not doing their jobs. Saying this would have been avoided if they were watched closely. “She would not want us to fight and surely you all know it.” He turned to look at young Luke in the eyes. “I know you did not mean it boy, things can be forgiven.” Alicent looked at rhaenrya as she smiled softly and pull her sons behind herself and listened to Viserys plead of forgiveness and family.

“He deserves no forgiveness,” Alicent stood up and let go of your hand. “The knife was brought to the fight and one of our children could have been killed- Y/n almost died, or might not make it.” She inched closer with a glare and her hands made up into a fist. “Our little girls life being stolen can be..Forgiven?”

“It is what’s right! I love her with my heart but it has been decided, no more blood needs to be shed. Do not let your hatred blind you Alicent.” She stared at him as he spoke so calmly and started to walk away. Her eyes went to the dagger on his hip and her mind filled with red to see her daughter avenged. Moving quickly she took the blade from his side and held it up going for Luke.

“If you will not see to justice then I shall.” Rhaenrya pushes her sons back and caught Alicent before she got closer. They held each other, pushing and pulling to get what they wanted. “Another insult to my family and you get away with it? Just under falling under that pretty foot. It is not far, where is duty? Where is sacrifice?” Rhaenrya looked at the blade as it reflected off the fire light.

She was about to say something but a loud metal sound caught them off guard. They both looked back as the reader laid on the floor with her eyes open and reached out for them. Her head shaking as she tried to speak out but nothing was coming out. Aemond coming to her aid and helping her up but she had used her the rest of her strength to get out of the chair. Reader looked at her brother for help to help and speak her mind, pleading to do the right thing.

“No more blood shed mother.” His spoke but his eyes do not match his words. “She does not wish it.” Helaena came rushing down to her twins side and held her hand. Alicent looked back at rhaenrya one last time before pulling away and dropping the knife. Slowly inching back she looked around at her husband, only with anger and devastation.

Everyone was quiet as she ordered someone to carry her daughter out of the room with the maester. The kids walked with her and held onto their sisters hand as she fell back into a deep sleep. No one could speak a word as they all stood stocked.

For years that was the last time rhaenrya and her kids saw their aunt, along with Daemon. But letters where sent in private from the reader to all of them with updates and her forgiveness. But luke refuses to open and read them as his guilt rotted away at his soul. But each week for years new letters still came from her. The next time they all saw eachother, they all grown so much. But they all remembered the first acted of war.

One side trying to make amends and the other full of revenge.

#yandere viserys targaryen #yandere house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #yandere house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon #yandere daemon targaryen #yandere daemon targaryen x reader #yandere alicent hightower #yandere aemond targaryen #yandere aemond targaryen x reader #yandere lucerys velaryon #yandere lucerys velaryon x reader #yandere jacaerys velaryon x reader #yandere jacaerys velaryon #yandere rhaenyra targaryen x reader #yandere rhaenrya targaryen #yandere helaena targaryen #yandere criston cole #yandere team green x reader #yandere team black x reader #yandere Alicent targaryen x reader #yandere hotd x reader #yandere hotd

[bohemian-nights]

An Offer From A Rogue

Word Count: ~9,448

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Sister!Reader

Warnings⚠️: 18+; incest, smut, choking, a little bit of soft dom!Daemon; p in v penetration; a tiny dash of degradation; fingering against a wall

Description: Words could never convey quite what she felt. Not in that moment. Not when there was this fire she felt spreading throughout her. Engulfing her. Turning her to flame.

AN: Based on this request by @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored. So sorry it’s late🙏🏽

The sound of dancing and a lively tune could be heard streaming in from just beyond the wrought iron door, but that had long been put out from her mind.                                            

Another tune entirely played reached her. It took her a great deal more effort than it perhaps should have to realize that the sound came from her.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

A whine which she felt clawing its way out from the back of her throat and breaking out into the quiet of her chambers. Desperate and greedy thing it was. Not in the least bit ladylike, but she supposed this was most assuredly unladylike and he was encouraging her with his murmurs of let me hear you sweet one and let go for me sweetling I have you.                                                                        

He did have her. Brown legs wrapped around his middle. She clung to him like a vine, splayed against the backdrop of her chamber, though she was mostly being held up by his strength. Hers having long since departed from her already spent form. 

The rest of her senses fared little better. Her ears felt like they had been stuffed with cotton, all she could taste was the salt of his skin mixed with an unearthly of smoke and dragon at his nape, and her voice had gone a while ago, but she had gathered that it hadn’t really mattered. Who needed oxygen when they had this? His breath breathed life into her better than undiluted  air ever could.

Who needed to speak when one could moan out her pleasure no. It did not matter. 

Words could never convey quite what she felt. Not at that moment. Not when there was this fire she felt spreading throughout her. Engulfing her. Turning her to flame. To pure heat and want. She could never describe that. What she felt. What was before. What was after. If there even was an after.

What was apart from this chamber, it truly did not matter. 

That world that she had ventured from so distant. So foreign. So immaterial. It was no more real than the creatures in old fisher wives tales told to scare naughty children who crept from their beds in the dead of night. 

Everything else had faded and turned to gray. There was just him and her in vibrant color and even then she had a hard time distinguishing between the shades that made up him and the ones that made her. 

The guests feasting below let out another round of shouts and cheers. Their stomping faintly registered in the back of her mind overcoming the haze for a brief moment.

They were getting quite loud. Quite merry. Quite drunk.

Twas probably for the best. She was being quite loud herself. With each mewl and breathless moan that broke free of her body increasing in duration and volume. Unrestrained as they serenaded a most captive audience. 

An audience that drew out a whine lodged in the back of her throat to pass through kiss swollen lips. The cause of which was no more than a mere swipe of ardent tongue upon her décolleté and the deft brush of fingers upon her all too sensitive nub sat atop her womanhood. Over and over again as she yielded to her pleasure. 

“That’s it sweet one,” he hummed. Voice thick and with something she could not quite name, but it was something which she felt too. Something that sparked another gasp for the air which he had taken from with another murmur and lap of the wet muscle at her neck. “That’s it.”  

She would have tried to stifle that moan if she had her bearings, if she had any sense or care for her name, but all manner of proprietary and good breeding had flown from her and floated down into the world of gray. Thankfully forgotten for if that gray had collided with her world of color, staining them with the red welts, yelps, and slick of their passion to which she would never forget the shame of it. 

She should have shame. She would have had shame at her own visage if she had any left. If she could gaze down at herself or look into the mirror she kept on the opposite wall of her chamber near her vanity and behind the changing screen which hid her bath, not that she needed to.  

Slacked-jawed, flushed, and incapable of any intelligible speech. She made a lovely sight. By the way in which the brute of a man before stood leering over her, the way his tongue lapped at her, tasting her, marking her as his, she knew she made a lovely sight, but she could not be more indecent.

Body given away to the haze of euphoria that enwrapped her courtesy of a pair of strong arms that kept her firmly pressed against a most willing figure complete with calloused fingers embedded deeply inside her reaching her in places where she had not know existed, but where nonetheless needed him most, and a set of thin, but determined lips upon every bit of exposed brown skin they could reach. 

She could hear the squelching sound that his fingers made as they rocked them in and out of her warmth. Clenching around them whenever he grazed over that place within her that had her seeing the stars of the night sky reflected on the back of her eyelids. Good girl he chanted when she gave into him. Gushing down on his arm with her slick. 

She could feel her curls glued to the wall by his exertions. See the wet trail she had left upon his robes and the deep purple bruises forming over skin on the tops of her ample breasts. Bruises that she’d have to explain away to one of her maids when they came to attend to her in the morn.

I tripped over my skirts and only managed to catch myself upon the railing would do or mayhaps a simple my stays were too tight would suffice. Would they believe her? Mayhaps they would. 

She would have to throw away the horrid garment on the second account. It would be replaced by some other God's awful contraption of death before she could forget the feel of it constricting her, and on the first—well she was a rather clumsy adventurer it had always been easy enough for her to bruise. 

A fall upon her knees would leave her looking as if she were a peasant girl who had been milking cows upon her knees and climbing up trees or traversing through the thistle field where Vermiothor liked to roam would leave her arms raw and red with her own lifeblood.  

But the days of childhood clumsiness had long since passed her and while she might fool a pack of serving girls who were scarcely older than she, she would most certainly not fool her Septa. 

No she wouldn't be so naive. 

She would see what had happened. What he had done to her. What she in truth had let him do to her even if she could not believe it so.

Her septa, a woman not quite old enough to be her grandmother, but a fair deal older than her mother had been, would have been alert that oher whines and whimpers. She was good natured, if not a little strict. She was a sweet woman above all. Wise. Dependable. 

Though unmarried at two and twenty she was getting rather old to need her septa as she did, but truthfully, she did not know what she would do without her. She was all she had known. The only maternal figure which she had and her septa seemed to love he in all the ways that she had seen a mother love their daughter

She could not recall her mothers laugh, the feel of her hands stroking her hair as she brushed and braided her riot of coils, and most importantly,  well important to her, her face which she had been told more times than she had inherited. 

She supposed she must have inherited it. She knew she had not inherited much of her fathers Valyrian countenance, the details of which she could not quite recall either. 

Though in that moment she supposed she could not quite recall anyone’s face apart from the man who had buried his head silver into her neck among other things laying heavy kisses into her flushed skin as she absentmindedly stroked down the planes and contours of his person that she knew better than her own image. better than she should have known. 

She was not the first to do so. The first to touch him as he had her, but she knew a part of him. Knew what he sounded like when he tried to contain his own grunts of pleasure, murmuring into her skin with pet names which she would not go without. 

“My sweet one,” he whispered as she drank up the praise. She knew what those saccharine groans tasted like upon her tongue. The sweetness. 

Knew what it felt like to feel his length pressing against her. rubbing upon her thighs, her womanhood. hard and wanting. She knew him like this and she enjoyed the knowledge more than she should. Letting it wash over her. Engulfing her with every grunt and groan intended or not that slipped from his lips. 

Daemon had been rough with his affections and she had not minded it. She liked it. She had not known she would, not knowing what had lied dormant within her, waiting to be awakened, but no that it had, she was wanton. She was utterly wanton. Every bit debauched. A creature which needed to be fed lest she wilt away to nothing. 

She had heard about girls like this. Her septa had warned her about girls like her. 

Wayward. Fallen. Ruined whatever one wanted to call it, innocence had been corrupted.    

Tainted with sin and damned for it. Their great shame and what a shame it was. 

She would have died from the shame of it if the older woman were to somehow apparate configured from her rapture before her very eyes. 

Or would she? 

She was desperate. Starved. Not caring on but propriety or for the gentle breeding of a lady which had been drilled into her skull since before she could even write her own name.

But now—now the only name which she knew was his. What a name it was. What it stirred within her. Who could have known that a single word could leave her so wanting.

“Daemon,” she moaned when he had nuzzled at a particularly sensitive patch of skin underneath her ear. Trailing open mouthed kisses down her neck. It was not as pleasant as what his fingers could stir from a few fervid rolls of the little pearl he had found at the apex of her mound when he he tweaked her to stiff , or the push of those digits in and out of her heat at the languid pace which he had set, but it was bliss nonetheless. A bliss she was happy to chase. 

Pulling the man as close as their still clothed bodies would allow her to as she wound her fingers through silver strands slicked by lust. Feeding her hunger. 

This, this is why they kept girls away from the truth of what went on between men and women in prowling hours of the wolf in the comfort of their chambers with fears of proprietary and damnation. 

Shrouding it with mystery and hushed chastisements that it was for the marriage bed and if that should be broken it one would risk body and soul as well as social ostracism to silence the more curious sort for if they knew the truth of what pleasure lied, of what lay within them, they should not forgo it. They should grow to want as she had grown to want and wanted and wanted. He had made her want. 

A gale, no, a raging thunderstorm had been awakened within her that she could not put out by her own hands. No matter what she had tried and tried and tried to her great frustration. 

Repeating those same ministrations that he had, the tips of drumming circles into her bundle of nerves, his rhythm steady. Long fingers pistoled in and out of her heat trying to reach that spongy spot he had found within her that had her mewling like one of the feral cats that roamed around the castle, but it was no good. 

Everything was wrong. So very wrong. The pads of her fingers had been too delicate in their movements. Her slender digits had not filled her in the way he had. Had not quite stretched her to find that spot and what they could reach had certainly not elicit that same intensity he had ignited. They had not the callouses which did not catch upon her clit no matter what way she had positioned them. And yet she tried. 

Tried chasing her high that he had taken from her for the better part of the hours between dusk and dawn.

She was in a frenzy of want. Of heat. Of fire, trying to stoke that burning fire until it burst before her into molten magma and still it eluded her. He eluded her and with him that delightful bliss he had set into motion by his strong hand. 

She was made to give up the feverish coxcomb of self pleasure all too soon. Forced herself to for she was gaining nothing from it except anguish.

Laying there in a empty bed, in the dead of night with soaked fingers, a sore cunny overflowing with her slick, a brown face marred with tears, and pride in her throat caught with a scream upon her tongue that she did not dare let it out lest her Septa find her in her ruin or that insufferable man howl with his own pride at having left her in such a state of unabashed avarice. 

Her mother had been in this exact position. Or something similar to it. 

It was how she came about. What bastards grew up with the knowledge of. Still while she may be a bastard she was the bastard sister to a king. Had grown up with his children, under his eye, and that acknowledge meant things were expected of her.

If her Septa happened to walk in this moment, if anyone happened to walk in, and see that she was no better than a common whore, no better than her mother she’d be ruined. Absolutely ruined

the blood of the dragon gone to waste. Common blood won out, unless the man who was doing his best to ruin her for all other men saved her. Unless Daemon asked for her hand and restored her honor. 

Would he do so? Would he save her or at least her virtue? Ask her to be his wife. Be the mother of his children? Would give up his life for her? Would he forsake all others, have her pass through his life at his side, and sully his blood with hers . Would he do that for her? 

She was not quite sure what he would do. After All he had pulled her into his depths and converted her to this nymph. Drawn her away from her, but did she care?

Marriage certainly did not have any bearing in this. Seven help her, thinking in its entirety had lost its place here with him.    

There was only divinity itself. She felt divine. Absolutely divine there with him. As if she had tasted the heavens and had touched the face of the Maiden herself. Gods oh Gods.

Did he find another? Had he been with her or was his hand enough? Was a rough hand scared by battle adequate replacement to her tight warmth or had he taken his pleasure in a whores cunt instead?

Was that why he left her or had he like her gone without satisfaction in its entirety? It seemed now when she had him worshiping her when his mouth was  and nipping at her commanding her to let go to give into him and he’d be there to catch her as she tumbled into her ecstasy so silly to wonder where he had been, but now was not then. 

Then he had left her to want. Left her to cry like a child and beg for him to return to her and make him put out that fire which he had so brought her to life. Make her feel alive for the first time in her short muted life. She’d never live down the shame of it. 

She had hardly gotten more than a few dreary hours of sleep because of him. Plagued by dreams of him and those fingers that held magic in their tips. In his tongue that left In the length of him. 

Him. All him. He consumed her. Burned her. 

It was all the cause of that man who was trailing hot open-mouthed kisses down her neck rough yet surprisingly nimble fingers caressing her in a place in a way that she was left in this sorrowful state, but nonetheless, only he seemed to know that she had been driven mad with passion and lorded it over her. She had found utter bliss and lost it in a few hours and had been left wanting in its absence. In his absence.  

Oh he had known what he was doing. What he had been doing for a good fortnight.

He had rarely let her side since he had arrived back from his latest excursion away to some distant land he would take her to. You ought to see more of the world than this place. He had told her. Arms linked and his head bent to hers as they took a turn about the Red Keeps gardens. Taking great pains to detail the full exoticism that his travels afforded him. Which could be afforded to her.

Her septa had not liked that. Muttering to herself with discontent when they had arrived back to her chambers, but there was not much she could do. For Daemon commanded her company to make up for his absence in that time between and who was she to deny a prince? 

How could she deny him when she insisted  that she be seated besides him at each feast. Asking for her favor at every tourney. Every dance was reserved for him lest she find the lord who dared to take her away from him for a mere round needing to be carried off his mount at said tourneys the next mourn. 

Daemon drew her in with whispers into her lips curl into a smile and a heavy hand upon her covered knee that sent a shiver through her for want of more than mere warmth. 

“Let them stare sweet one,” he had told her with a grin she did not wish to escape from. Wandering fingers inching up the silk which she had painfully stitched together by her own hand. It had taken her the better part of a moon to make the gown, but when she had shown it to her septa she could not have been prouder.

It was a ruin now much the same as her. 

The bodice ripped in two courtesy of the man in her grasps lust ridden possession to free her breasts from their restraints. 

He had been restrained up until that point, but that restraint had severed when she had begun to quake and drool around him. Needing to suckle upon her breast seemingly as much as she needed him within her. Taking the erect bud between his lips and to lavish them with his tongue as he had done so with her neck. Not caring that he had soiled the garment with his salvations and his essence. 

She did not know entirely how the latter had even over, perhaps he had taken himself in hand while she was preoccupied with the feel of him inside her, any part of him inside her, surrounding her, but whatever may be the case it smelled of his musk. Almost overpowering her smell with that smoky scent of warm salt air, dornish red, dragonhide, and open sky. 

She had hid it as best as tucked away under a loose bit of stone under her bed. She hadn't a choice on that matter. 

How was she to explain away that when they saw the state of it? What would they ask her? What would she say? She could feel the words catching in her throat beneath her high. Would anyone say anything?      

No one had said a thing when he had first laid eyes upon it. When he kept his gaze, his hands, his attentions a laugh at their guests  upon her. He kept her person firmly affixed to his side. Eyes darkened under his adore and the dim glow of the candlelight. It was quite hard to tell if his eyes had darkened, but they had lost their violet hue. 

They had gawked at them of course, received a few raised brows, but a brother, even a Targaryen brother, paying compliments to his dearest sister, his only sister, was not so very wrong. And from their eyes such affection did not resemble those of lovers. 

Her brown skin covered her blushes and the table covered his hand inching up her leg hiking  up her skirts or how her foot just so happened to be grazing whenever the wandering limb got particularly close to her cunt underneath such frills. Her own hand wished to touch him in the same way as she did. 

She was not completely naive. She had seen the hounds at it once. Twas a vicious affair consisting of a stubby appendage making rapid pumps in and out of a puckered hole that made her stomach churn and wish to expel her breakfast. It could hardly be comforting for his mate. 

One of the serving girls between fits of raucous laughter when her mistress had finally found the stomach and courage to do so told her it was how pups were made, but people were not dogs.  

Still the question and the answer to that circled back around her this sweltering fortnight.

How would it be with him? Would he be quick?  Would he be gentle? Would he take her from behind like a dog? He already had her pressed up against the wall twice now the ravenous mad dog he was. She knew that humans were different, but he had not even taken her to the bed as befitting her status. 

What would it be like if he had? What would it be like to have him hovering over her?  How would his flesh feel atop hers? How would his length feel like inside her? Would he let her touch him? Love him as he loved her?  Hand drifting to where a growing tent was ensconced under his robes? 

How would it be? 

He certainly had to be bigger than a dog. He felt bigger than what she imagined the hound did deep inside his mate. Would his length bring her pleasure in the way that his hands had? Blind her with it and turn her into some lust ridden beast. She felt like that. Then. Now. 

Oh, she was depraved, but he did not seem to mind her need when he had caught her staring at him with what she was sure was her need. Hands drifting.

“What's mine is yours sweet one,” the warmth of his breath fanned her nape as he spoke the words into her ear. Her cheeks warmed as he had taken her hovering hand in his bestowing a light kiss upon the supple brown flesh before he pulled away. His touch lingering where his lips could not. 

It looked more like lively banter, albeit laced with the affections from the depths of their kinship, than the makings of a passionate tryst. 

Even still she was not so green as to think that the eyes and ears of the Red Keep would not notice something if they kept on as they had. They were Targaryens after all and Targaryens were not so common as mere men in their desires and wants. 

She had not followed him when he had left the Great Hall last night well before dessert was brought in. Their brother huffed and eyed the top of the man’s pale head in the crowd of ravens and browns and gold with some measure of suspicion, but he did not command him to stay. 

Letting him leave without saying a word in protest. 

Daemon did as he pleased and there was no point in keeping him, especially when his behavior raised brows from their more stodgy guests and the ones connected by law than by blood. The ones who would not understand this. What they meant to each other or how natural it was even beneath the sin. 

After a time, which she had deemed appropriate where no one would guess what had been up to under the cover of that table where their hands had wandered and communicated what whispers and gazes could not in an overcrowded hall, she took her leave of the merriment.

Viserys did not seem to mind if she stayed either. Sending her off with a solitary flicks of his hand in the same direction that their brother had left.

She thought he was rather relieved to see her go. She could picture the small as her back turned to him. Feel his stare on the back of neck. He always seemed rather relieved to see her go. As did the rest of the hall save for her cousins. Her very existence raised brows and that was not limited to the ones who were supposed to love her best, the king included among them. 

True enough he cared for her. Their father had seen to that as had Daemon, but he was not brotherly, barely familial and though he was old enough to be her father he had never taken upon that role after Baelon had met his abrupt end. 

Too much like her mother she suspected. He had never been fond of the Naathni whore who had captured their fathers gaze. 

Then again Viserys did not seem very fond of anything apart from his daughter and the little prince she had birthed who looked no more Valyrian than she. His indifference to her was really less to do with her blood and more to do with his general indifference to all things Viserys was not so concerned with the purity of their family and her lack of it, but Daemon, Daemon who loved her, Daemon who had defiled her, Daemon he was  was another matter.   

Daemon had not been particularly brotherly either  with his comings and goings, but his indifference was a foreign concept to her. Her youngest brother had never hid his affections; his care for her even if those affections had turned into something more than it ought to be. Or something as it in truth should be. 

“You’re a Targaryen sweet girl as much as I am.” He would always say when she questioned why he was so affectionate with her without a breath spared. Whispering in her ear and sealing his words with a kiss to her temple or peppering her  face with sloppy kisses. Never mind the frowns and deep furrows they’d received for said affection. They wouldn’t understand.

Half was still a Targaryen. She was still a Targaryen no matter who her mother had been. That was the beginning and end of it or just the beginning. 

It was why they were here and why she was presently in a half state of undress stuffed with her brother's fingers, soaking his hand with her slick and his mouth upon her breasts. They were Targaryens and Targaryens did what they liked. Would have what they liked. Take what they like. Conqueror. 

As he had done with her. Twas in their blood. Her blood that was a siren call and he had answered. Like calling to like. Blood to blood. He had answered with his own call.  

Silly and naive as it was, she had thought he had actually gone to bed. That he had gotten bored of her of the game they played, but he most decidedly had not.

She had only managed to make it a quarter of the way to her chambers before a pale hand shot out from the dark and pulled her back into it. Pulling her into a hard chest while his mouth caught the scream she was sure to have let out if not for his tongue tangling with hers in the most lovely dance swiping across her lips to gain entrance circling the roof of her mouth upon hers she had given into him without much fight.

And now what little fight she had had vanquished along with the rate of rapidly deteriorating care for anything apart from the feel of him upon her. In her. around her. Him. She had not cared for anything else since last night. Just him. 

“Don't turn away from me, little one.” his hand had quickly enough found its way to up her skirts once more when his fingers finally pulled away from her lips. 

The pale Targaryen man wasting no time venturing them up her leg. Grazing the smooth embellished bronze skin of her thighs until he found her warmth waiting for him. Placing a toned thigh between her legs and spreading them apart.  Finding no resistance to stop him. To keep him from her. To keep this pleasure he wished to give her and she would take it all and thank him for it like a dog dying from thirst.

He could've commanded her to streak across that very dark, very quiet hall naked as the day she was and she would've gladly done so. She would've done anything with those digits working her through. A finger gliding across her glistening slit to collect her slick before bringing it up to tease her little button. Drawing crescents into the engorged nub as he grew moans and whimpers from her lips. Getting drunk off the noises. His breath upon her. 

She had been shamefully wet. She still had some shame in that regard when she had heard the sound of her wetness filling in that tiny enclave. The pool of slick he made which stained them both and reached something in her that had her tightening around him and arching back on to him. 

He found the places in herself she had never known and  had never dreamed of knowing. 

She had touched herself on occasion before. Feeble thing it was. Timid and unsure movements made when the castle had gone quiet and the only company she had were the moon's light, her slender hand, and her labored breaths. Each time no different than the last and neither was this attempt at self gratification. Not unpleasant, but it was not particularly eventful, nothing remarkable, nothing euphoric in it. 

She did not have those flutterings spreading from the pit of her core. Had never spasmed around her fingers. Wet them with her arousal. 

Only once had she ever attempted entering them within her channel and she had never tasted herself. She certainly had never lost herself in her fumblings. Not in this way. Never gone and she had been gone. She was gone. 

Every thought left from her body besides that cresting feeling overtaking her like a wave in the harbor and she a ship soaked through with love embrace. 

Gone enough to let him debase her there upon that wall where anyone might see them, see her like a common whore. Chanting his name like a possessed woman. 

Daemon. Daemon. Daemon.

Gone enough to let him kiss away her moans. To whisper sweet things into her dampened flesh. Things that made her cheeks flush with warmth and her stomach clench in pleasure. Bearing down upon his fingers as she clung to him.

She was gone, gone, gone. And then he was gone. 

“Patience is a virtue dear sister,” he had whispered onto her lips. 

Gifting her one last kiss upon the hot skin beneath the shell of her ear just as she felt herself cresting over that little hill of fire which he had built, halting her as he pulled the ground from out under her.    

He did not catch the gasp when he had pulled his fingers from her. A gush of her wetness went with him as he brought those digits to his lips to sample her excitement and left the rest to run down her thighs and stain that ruined silk that of course was then. A wink, and the inaudible groan he let out as he tasted were the last trendles of bliss he had afforded her, before he left her in that scorching void of need and agony, but that memory had been painted over with the vibrancy of desire. 

Now whatever had made him leave her, whatever lesson he had tried to impart upon her, whatever, whatever he had seared into her mind with his,  he had returned to her with great fury. 

Passion reignited as he had thrown open the doors to her chambers after she had tried to slip through them in search of him. His lips were upon hers with not a word spoken between them as he removed all traces of what he was to say to him. The only thing cushioning her head from hitting the wall which he had backed them into was his hands placed behind her that softened the blow. Then it did not matter. What her septa thought, what did not matter. There had only been now. 

Now she was not willing to let it slip through her fingers that were presently holding onto the pale man until she had her fill and more then. 

“Don't leave me,” she rasped with a whimper out into the shell of his ear. The last bit of consciousness before the fall. The words choked out with a gasp for breath over the sound of the squelches growing in their obscenity and his panting into her skin.  

it was pathetic it sounded childish to her own ears, but she was determined to let him know. To not have what had happened repeat to be left as she didn't think she could bear that. She would collapse into herself and never leave from this place he had set her atop above all the rest. 

Passion faded. Flesh rotted. Bones turned to dust. Withering away until whatever had been her, the old her and the new was gone too. 

She could not bear that.  

“I never left you. I will never leave you sweet one.” She believed him. 

Believed him as she could feel him at her fingers. The resolute beating of his pulse. Thump, thump, thump.  The heat of his skin she managed to pull. His blood strumming through him.

Believed him as he lifted his head at last from where he had trailed his kisses down from her neck to her décolletage. The warmth of his breath fanning her exposed skin dampened by his hearty ministrations. 

Daemon had come back, that is what mattered. He had never strayed. Not truly. Not in any way that mattered. He had come for her. He had found her and taken her for his own, giving her this gift of pleasure. This new her. 

“Is this all for me sweet one?” He crooned out the question. Goosebumps erupted across her body as those long digits of his hit the back of her cervix, his pace unrelenting. “Is this why you 

She wouldn’t have been able to contain her moan then even if she wanted to. Nor the shudder that wracked through her body as she folded into him. Nor answer him. Clawing at him. Pulling him tighter to her practically suffocating the man with her bare breasts having pulled down her flimsy gown as if he would flit away as he had before, but he did not. She would not. Not with the way he groaned into her skin. The way he lapped at whatever he could find as he sped up the pumps of his fingers within her heat.

There was something comforting in knowing that she had ruined him the same as he had ruined her. 

Help her mother. If she had found the Gods on the rough pads of his fingers stroking her, loving her, what would she find on the end of his cock? What would that cock make her see, stroking her, loving her, how would she feel? 

A moan interrupted her thoughts once more. 

“That’s it sweet girl.” He teased with a nip at the back of her ear. Taking her lobe between his teeth to suckle upon as his fingers worked her through. In and out over that spongy spot he had. Striking a delicate balance as he kept her on the edge. The balance that she had missed. Come to crave. 

A little heaven right under her nose which she had been kept from. Not that she was complaining, who would complain about heaven when they had reached it, but then she was in fact complaining. Whining again when he pulled his hand from her and with it that heaven. 

The sound of her wetness around his fingers filling the still. Twitching around nothing after being filled for so long. 

She felt empty. Cold somehow and empty. The air leaving out from her lungs. Left starving once more as she clawed at him. Her grip unrelenting. 

She had forgotten what it felt like to feel so empty. It was somehow worse than when he left her crying in the hall. She detested it with every fiber of her being. 

She whined and that whine turned into another moan when he brought those soaked digits to his lips to taste her. His eyes remained locked on her. Watching her as she squirmed around him.

He was a cruel man and he had chosen her to be on the receiving end of this cruelty. 

Cruelty seemed to beget more cruelty. With a pop those fingers were and had voyaged to swipe them  through her sticky folds. Torturing her, but she did not have to wait long. He plunged them back into her depths in the next breath. Reaching her cervix as he curled them. Leaving her shaking in his arms. 

“Do you feel how wet you are for me sweetling,” he growled out eyes scanning her face for acknowledgement and when he received no such thing besides her quaking in his hold silent by the pleasure, he emphasized the point. Pressing his fingers deep into that spongy spot atop her walls, she answered his growl at last with a whimper. 

She could do no more than whimper at the truth of it. The squelches of her heat playing on a loop. In and in and in. Not stopping. Never stopping as he worked her up the little hill he had molded. Her descent into the abyss threatening to undo came thundering down upon her like a clap of thunder. “Come for me sweetling.” And she did. 

Giving into that magma that had been boiling over. Seeping into the hot puddle of her own bliss. Her vision swirling with life and her body trembling with wave after wave until all that was left was her soul. 

Climax overtaking her until she felt nothing but those hands on her. arching into his fingers to draw out that fluttering feeling. Her stomach tightening with it. Body loosening into it until she was but a puddle of molten passion. 

Oh Gods. Nothing more for what else was there, but this bliss. What else was there but this? What else could there be?

Strange and unearthly as it sounded she had left this mortal plane for that brief duration of her orgasm which seemed to stretch endlessly. That puddle of bliss an overflowing fountain which kept replenishing with the sweetest liquid ambrosia. 

She hadn’t realized he had moved them to her bed until she felt the heaviness of his weight and the heat of his skin on top of her. Warming her now cool form contrasting with the feel of the soft linens and the fluff of her pillow at her back cushioning her. 

He wore a smile and greeted her with a tone as if he were frightened that she might float away from him, but how could she after this. 

“Hello.” The corners of his violet eyes which had regained some of their hue crickling with mirth as he petted her cheek with the back of his hand. Softer than she imagined it would be. It was the hand that had been inside with the way it glistened in the moon's light. 

“I think you’ve broken me,” she returned barely above a whisper and more breathy than she would like, but not knowing what else to say. She felt broken. Like a ragdoll. Breathless and listless with what remained of her orgasm. 

He laughed at her ragged state, but it was not the jeering sort. It was as airy as her own voice. Breathless happy if she would be so bold. Not just gloating he was truly happy. Pleased. Pleased with her. Pleased with pleasing her and he was far from being done doing so. 

“I shall endeavor to do that more often than.” He brought his hand up to her cheek. Caressing the flushed skin from brow down to her nape with the back of his knuckles. 

If she hadn't had the good sense to allow her maid to braid up her hair for the night as she had last night too restless with yearning for a relief that had never come till now to allow them to do such, He might’ve encountered loose coils which he could grip. Instead her mop of raven coils were braided neatly into two plaits resting upon her shoulders. 

Though she imagined he might have liked the sight of her mane unbound considering he could not keep his hands from brushing the back of those coils, for he knew better now than to try to attempt to comb through the delicate strands, last night when they had been as such during the feast. Only adorned with a band of rubies atop her head to restrain them. 

Her hair would have been a mess to comb in the morrow, resembling more a brittle bird's nest than hair and taking the better part of that very mourn to undo the damage which had been done, but she’d let him play. 

She’d let him play with her whenever he’d like. 

“Perhaps I can fuck the church mouse from you,” he mused. His thumb swiping across the expanse of freckles resembling a consolation across her nose. If he meant to raise offense to virgins sensibilities which had been bred into her that would have her hiding her embarrassment from his vulgarity he was surely to be disappointed at her reply for she met him in kind. 

“Mayhaps I shall fuck the cruelty from you dearest brother.” 

Wideyed staring up at him she expected a sharp quip for her cheek, perhaps another lewd castigation, but he was to disappoint her as much as she so joyously disappointed him. 

“You’re so beautiful,” his hand had ventured to her lips, eyes darting between them and her brown gaze with not so much as a hint of mischief. “So beautiful.” She should have felt subconscious, full of virgins blush at the intensity in which he watched her, but the flush of lust was still coursing through her waiting to be attended to. Waiting in this hellish limbo that kept her from celestial rapture. 

Bare before her, his robes discarded into a pile with her gown just outside the peripheral of her vision. Covering every inch of her person with his pale flesh and staring down at her. Staring straight through her and right down to her soul. The violet of his irises blown out, replaced with the black of his pupils, he looked the picture of it. Valyrian god come to life to lead her into wickedness. 

Through her haze, she saw he was motioning towards her slightly parted lips swollen from his kisses he commanded her with a solitary word. “Suck.” 

It was less vulgar and more reverent than one would expect from the meaning of the words. Less a command too, more like he had called her beautiful once more with that starry look in his eyes that suited him odd as it was though she did not need to be flattered and she certainly did not need to be told twice.

The taste was not unpleasant. Salty mainly, she did not taste of berries and honey, but there was a sweetness there. A sweetness which she could understand why men seemed to go wild from it, why Daemon seemed so eager to have her taste herself. 

If she were to admit to it, and she hardly thought she could even at his command,it satisfied some dark perverse part of her crawling that crawled out with a tiny moan stiffened by his fingers, but that darkness still hungered. Wondering how Daemon would taste on her tongue. 

To see him reduced to a mere husk of man that would see him beg her with that solitary word and throaty pants. 

Her hand had crawled between their bodies blindly with want. Instinct drove her around this new bend as she took him in hand. 

He was hot to the touch. His skin felt soft like velvet yet rigid with his arousal. Throbbing in her hand and far larger than that hound imprinted in her memory.    

He allowed her to go on like that. encouraging her in her explorations as his hand joined hers between their bodies. Guiding her little tugs upon his length, but halted her movements when she had felt him begin to coat her hands with his spunk. 

The haze of lust she found herself in abated somewhat with a slap placed onto the meat of her thigh which had her yelping at the sting of it. 

Another was placed in that same spot rubbing the brown skin tender for good measure when she had tried to bring her hand to her mouth to taste him as he had tasted her. She could not meet his eye when he sneered down at her. 

“I did not did not give you permission to do that sweet sister.”

Taking her hand in his as Daemon brought her fingers to his lips. Enveloping the digits into to suckle upon before releasing them not a half minute after with a pop that had her wetting her thighs that she tried clamping together for some relief, but was stopped by the hard body atop. Gods, did he have to keep her from this too? 

“Greedy little thing whatever am I to do with you?” His eye sparkled with mirth at her whines and squirms beneath his person, but he took some mercy on her.

“Next time sweet one,” her brother promised. The tips of his pointer finger on the other hand that had not been in her tracing her lips as his bent head smirked down at her. She desperately wanted to meet the small admonition with a protest of her own making. Why could she not love him as he loved him, but he supplanted the words with a moan by way of his lips returning to its rightful place upon hers. 

“Next time I’ll teach you how to use that pretty mouth.” He breathed into her his want. 

Next time his promise swimmed in her head as her tongue wet and wild battled with his. Giving in as was becoming a habit when he swiped it across the nerves atop the roof of her mouth. She did not mind waiting for the next time if it would lead to this. She could wait for next time. Next time. Next time. 

He wanted there to be a next time. He wanted a next time with her. Mayhaps even more than that if he made good on his promise. If he took her away from this half-life of dictums, indifference, and daggers hidden behind tight smiles. Mayhaps there will be a thousand next times. She could almost picture it beneath the clouds. Almost feel it if she just reached for it. If she just—

“Shh sweetling,” he panted out. Pulling away from the kiss, but only just for his lips still ghosted hers.  the warmth of his breath fanning her fevered cheeks as he moved his hands to back up to cup her face as he murmured plaintives. “I’m right here.”

She did not know why, but she had begun to cry. She had not even aware she had, hadn’t even felt the telltale sting upon her cheeks nor tasted the salt of her tears, the thought of next time and its pleasures gripping hold of her til Daemon leaned down to kiss them away. Peppered her face with kisses as he shushed her. 

Trying to calm her overtaxed state with his own branding. Bringing her back down from the skies which he had ascended her into with the gentleness of his touch. And yet he was far from sending her into that bliss. Next time could wait. There was a now to see too

She whimpered as he spread her legs, this time with his bare thigh which felt like a balm to that heat that was regrowing in the pit of her belly. Feeling the stretch and her own stickiness but mostly how sore she had become. Dear god he really was trying to send her to heaven or to whatever land of milk and honey he had come from or perhaps the land of fire and blood was a more apt description for it. 

“Daemon please,” she begged, but he had only answered with a laugh and the tilt of her 

“You’ve been neglected for far too long,” He was toying with her, teasing her. Controlling her movements as he grinded her heat down upon his thigh. 

It was too much. It was not enough.    

“I can’t promise it won’t hurt.” That hand which had been guiding the erratic dilutions of her hips had shifted to the apex of her womanhood cupping her curls before pulling her labia apart to renew their efforts upon her pulsing button; it did not take much to send her spiraling delirious with want as she was. 

“I don’t care,” and she didn’t. Feeling her orgasm crescendo once more with each circle he drew into her engorged clit. That hill so intoxicating a climb. Her sopping cunt pulsing around nothing as her clit thrummed, but so desperately needing to be filled as she once had. “I don't please.”

She wasn’t above begging now. Not when she had a taste. “I need you please I need you—- Daemon,” she choked on her moan as he answered her call. her nails digging into his back as he breached her pulsing walls. She could tell that she was drawing blood, but she had bled for him and the man atop her had choked out a groan of his own as he sheathed himself within her to the hilt. 

He had been right there was pain but it was but a prick swiftly overtaken by that wave of pleasure which he brought the heady concoction that he made for her.

 In out. 

Not stopping. 

Never stopping for she was a finely tuned instrument he knew only how to play. 

Ever the master of his craft his mouth hot on hers as his tongue soaked up every song she gifted him. The long digits of his right hand remained on her clit. The pads of his fingers rubbing circle while his length bullied that spongy spot within her heat which once pulsed around his fingers while the fingers belonging to his left hand wrapped themselves around her throat. Squeezing as her walls squeezed his length. Milking him for all that he would give her. 

She arched her hips up onto him when he tried to leave from her walls just to thrust himself deeper within them, meeting him thrust for thrust. Her need taking over as she let the man use her for their pleasure.

 His thumb had never abandoned her clit as he kept himself seated deep within her quivering walls as she watched black dots blanketing her vision. A little death of the color he had painted over her world of gray, blind as she was, but there was so much more to feel. 

This, this was the thing which she had needed. This was what she was meant for. 

His skin upon hers. Sweat, spit, and spunk gluing their bodies together. The squelches from their lovemaking her spend and his combining with each tilt drowning out whatever remained of the world outside or even within the walls of these sultry chambers. 

The push and pull of him stretching her. His rigid length dragged across her walls, filling her better than his fingers. She felt whole. 

Each thrust somehow deeper and deeper. Carving out a space that had not existed before this, but was always to be. that want and longing that had tormented her so quelled like a babe at his mothers breasts. 

She came around him, soaking him, squeezing him, without so much as a release of breath, but he was there to breathe for her. There to speak for her. There to be her anchor.

That's a good girl. That's my good girl. Gods, you're so tight, so tight. Naughty little thing you squeeze me so perfectly. That's it, he crooned, adores position by his low rasps of breath. Voice strained in the back of his throat as he commanded her, Let go for me. 

It was not his words that undid her. Nor his grunts of pleasure he did not refrain from gifting her. 

It was in his eyes that bore into her. Violet turned midnight eyes that mirrored her own which said You'll be my death you sweet thing, but I will not leave you. In. I belong here. In. In you. In. With you. In. You are mine. In. As I am yours.

 In. In. In. In. 

She shook beneath him and he groaned into the hollow space between her breasts. Eyelids fluttering shut as he bent into her. Squirting around his hot member as he spilled into her. 

He was everywhere. Had taken everything from her body from the depths of her being and she did not care.

This was the beginning, the after, everything. Her body curled into itself. Curling around him. He did not stop and she did not want him to stop going further and further up a cliff which she did not know only that it was more than last time. Stronger too as she tumbled over into the welcoming arms of elation.

Time had lost all its meaning as her orgasm wrecked through body. White and silver the color of moonlight flashing across her. The salt of his skin the only taste on her tongue. The little grunts and moans they let out to the other as effortless as one's heartbeat. Where he ended and she began extended past where their bodies were joined for there was no him, no her, just this. Just them.

It was his hand that she came to the world of color. Petting her cheek as he had before when she had returned back to him from that mountain of bliss. Hand upon her bare hip a comforting weight, but he made no move to exert her further. 

“I will not touch you, but I need to take care of you sweet one.” Another kiss, this one placed on the tip of her freckled nose as she exhaled, loosening that ball of energy that remained from her worn body. 

Cupping her warm face between his palms as he leaned in so that his damped forehead rested upon hers. “Will you let me take care of you?" she nodded, that ragdoll feeling coming about her again, wanting to do but she knew better than to take his words in vain.

She laid there doll like upon a mountain of pillows that as he fetched a cloth and thimble of water from her wash basin. Still as naked as she, backside turned, throwing  her a boyish smile every so often over his shoulder as he dampened the rag, but having no shame in her seeing him as such and she was too tired to be embarrassed by the sight of a naked man or to care what any others might think of it. Let them make what they like.

She would not trade this, seeing that lovely gaze with light in every corner of his face which made him look ten years younger for what had been before ruined as she was. 

There was no talking as he washed slick and spend from her body. Stilted breaths, trembles when he dragged the cloth against her sour cunny, and little gulps of water from the chalice he handed to her when he had deemed his washing the only tune which played. Even the feast below them had gone well and truly quiet. The moon that hung low in the night sky which would soon glow a bloom of red and orange their only company. 

Half bathed in the shadows he stretched out a pale hand towards her as he finally settled himself beside her. Having thrown the soiled rag clear across the room for one of her maids to find in the morning along with her, but that would wait til dawn broke free of the night.

The moon high his fingers glistened in its light with water droplets from the basin as she took that outstretched hand without pause. Daemon pulled her into him with one tug.

A feminine yelp and  a contented sigh the brief interlude that cut the still. Nestling her head beneath his chin as he resumed stroking down her body. 

Gentle. 

It shocked her how he who could be so maddening who could elicit such scorn and want, even from her,  yet he was still so gentle with her when it was all said and done. She couldn’t complain that he was so gentle resting there in his arms, but it was a shock albeit the most pleasant kind. 

They went on like that. Time continuing to be immaterial. The soothing caresses down her bare back pulling her tenderly to the land of dreams. That contented quiet having quenched the hunger prevailing until he broke it.

Pulling her head slightly away from his shoulder where she had rested to lift her chin up enough to face him but not quite enough to pull her in for another sweet kiss or a searing one to begin their lovemaking anew as she had thought. She was not so very tired and the sun was still aslumber, but then she met his eye. 

Brown met Violet as their gazes aligned. 

“Come away with me.” He whispered. His voice sounded just as boyish as he looked then. A slight bit of apprehension beyond the brilliance of his gaze, but so full of hope. A hope she would not leave unanswered. 

Meeting him the rest of the way she leaned into his touch. Her lips grazed his as she breathed her reply into him. 

“Okay.” She’d follow him anywhere. Into bliss and beyond.  

Ao3 Link:

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x sister!reader #daemon targaryen #hotd fic #daemon targaryen x black!reader #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #bnhotdfic #see what I did with the title 👀 #I might be making this spicer than it is but an attempt was made 🔥