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aemxnd · 1 year

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midnight rain | daemon targaryen x niece!reader

Can the sunshine win over the darkness?

Heavily inspired by a gender-swapped Taylor Swift’s Midnight Rain as requested by @prettycutebunny, I hope I did your idea justice (and apologies for changing one lyric to suit the plot!)

WORDS: 5.3k (I’m so sorry)

WARNINGS: canon typical incest, dubcon, angst everywhere you look, p in v, v fingering, physical violence, breeding, degradation, praise, pain kink, Daemon being a real asshat, reader is Viserys and Alicent’s third child, reader has silver hair for plot point, Stockholm Syndrome, terrible High Valyrian translations, crying, power imbalance due to age difference.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

My requests are open! 🖤

Such a pretty little songbird.

Little Starling, your mother had once named you as a child. A free spirit, bound only by the towering castle walls that clipped your wings as the youngest child of the King and his second Queen. Weeks, months, years passed daydreaming beneath your favourite tree, reading the same fantastical books and listening to the same wistful odes from your minstrel.

All the while under the careful eye of your kepus.

Life’s tragedies and horrors had never crossed your path, never entered your realm, therefore could never harm you. Your childhood as idyllic as you could imagine, save for a loving father. That void was dutifully replaced by your uncle Daemon, whose unrivalled care and indomitable attention ensured you never wanted for anything more, evermore understanding that your father’s duty to his throne far exceeded the loving relationship expected toward a daughter and that his brother could offer the closest companionship to his. Yours was an unbreakable bond that defied all secrets, surpassed all proprietary expectations and often branched into full conversation in High Valyrian to remain undetected by outside ears.

Meanwhile, your elder brothers Aegon and Aemond sought to salve the absence of a protective male role model closer to your own age, ensuring they trained in the sword to their own degrees should their little sister ever need rescue. No matter how often you reassured them, they refused to share your belief that no danger could come to you, for danger did not seek you. With the guard of three silver-haired Princes, you thought yourself invincible.

As you matured together, however, your brothers discovered distractions. For Aegon, it was women, cups and the sordid activities beyond the castle walls. For Aemond, it was Vhagar, studies and bitterness. You could not begrudge them the right to grow, to extend their roots beyond your all-too-comfortable sibling unit, as you too had become distracted by literature, music and the pursuit of a quiet life with precious few responsibilities. Somehow your tranquil existence had eluded the conversation of marriage, recognising your unfettered spirit aspiring to greater things than a life secluded within the Red Keep.

But not in the eyes of your kepus.

~~She was sunshine, I was midnight rain~~

“What troubles you, little starling?” Called a familiar voice from behind your favourite reading spot in the Godswood. You squinted against the midday sun to find your beloved uncle Daemon watching over you, an uneasy frown skewing his lips. “Why are you so often here alone?”

“Good day, dear kepus,” you closed the tome in your lap, clasping your hands together. “My brothers are at the Dragonpit, where I fear a princess may never tread.”

“And you are content with reading in solitude?” Daemon stepped closer, treading carefully over the gnarled roots of the tree upon which you sat. “Would you not prefer company?”

“I am sure others would not wish to read the tales I choose to indulge,” you clutched your book closer to your chest, hurriedly attempting to conceal its cover from him. Sighing thoughtfully, you smiled up at your uncle. “I am resigned to the life of a quiet Princess Regent, neither an heir nor a common-born. No responsibility, no authority, yet still no freedom.”

Daemon approached and perched on a root beside you, chuckling softly under his breath. “I suppose that notion is all too familiar to us both, Princess.”

“Then how did you assuage it, uncle?” You looked over to him, noticing a distinct pain behind the considerate smile on his countenance. “How did you counsel yourself to contentment with such an existence?”

“What in the Seven Heavens makes you believe that I have?” Daemon snorted, gaze dropping into his lap. “How do you counsel yourself to contentment with a life of loneliness, niece? You are but seven-and-ten, do you not wish to take a husband? Make an honest man out of some egotistical Lannister?”

You smiled warmly. “I do not wish to marry, uncle. No aspect of marriage or childbearing holds any attraction for me, for I could never find the love of which I read in literature.”

“That I find hard to believe, Princess. If you wish to marry for love, your parents would be only too happy to oblige.” His hand reached to clasp over your thigh reassuringly. “One day, you will find the Prince you deserve.”

A comfortable silence fell between you, enough to hear the rising volume of the wind in the Godswood. You glanced up in tandem to see the once-turquoise sky fading to an ominous grey.

“A storm is coming, Princess,” Daemon clicked his tongue, slapping his knees demonstrably and rising to his feet. With a kindly hand proffered in the space between you, he beamed down at you. “May I accompany my little ray of sunshine to shelter?”

As you reached to accept, Daemon finally caught a glimpse of your book’s cover and smiled to himself. “The Tales of Persephone and Hades, I see.” His voice lowered to a mutter so indistinct you could not hear him. “How apt, vēzos.” Sun.

You paced slowly toward the library together, Daemon always one step behind, his hands clasped studiously behind his back as you meandered around hallway after indiscriminate hallway, wordlessly travelling as if no conversation could be found. You would never notice the manner in which Daemon consumed the image of you before him, a woman grown so distinctly from the small babe he had observed in your youth, born with gleaming silver hair which now tumbled to the length of your hips. Your regal green gown swayed as you moved and swept the hallway before his intrepid footsteps, Daemon swallowed harshly as he imagined the frame concealed by your bodice and boned skirt.

~~She wanted it comfortable, I wanted that pain~~

Upon your arrival at the dimly-lit library hall, you turned to nod a farewell to your escort.

“Thank you, uncle,” you smiled before quickly turning on your heels in search of another book to lose yourself in. As you paced, you heard your footsteps echoing with another, realising that Daemon had followed you. After a few more steps, you ground to a sudden halt, giggling gently as he bumped into you and nearly lost his footing. You grasped his arms behind you and steadied him, the gentle clearing of his throat behind you making you chuckle harder. “Kepus, are you following me?”

His hands searched for your waist and skimmed the contour of your hips, pulling you flush to his chest so close his warm breaths fanned your hair. Your laughter silenced with the sudden realisation that this was no child’s play.

“I would follow you to the ends of the earth, little starling,” he whispered into the shell of your ear, venturing a hand to brush your tumbling silver curls from your neck so he could blaze a trail of butterfly kisses unimpeded. Your breath hitched in your throat, eyes fluttering closed as his gentle touch melted your resistance immediately.

“Kepus… what do you mean?” You asked timidly, almost afraid of the response.

His next searing kiss into the base of your neck lingered a while, his lips wrapping you up in anticipation and longing for a touch you had never before desired, but now that you had it, you craved it more than the air you breathed. Your head threw back into the blissful sensation, earning a low groan from Daemon that vibrated softly against your skin.

“You have always been the midday sun to my midnight rain, haven’t you, little one?” Daemon whispered. “You were born into this world when I returned from the Stepstones, a ray of light when my world was shrouded in darkness. Whenever my life has succumbed to the pitch black of night, you were always there to illuminate the way.”

Your hands rested on his as they traversed deep into the valley of your pelvis, hovering over the position of your most sensitive place concealed only by the structure of your dress.

“Uncle, please…,” you muttered in a form of weak protest that came out as an encouragement, unable to scramble through your mind for a reason why you should reject his advances. He had lost Laena, you were unwed, there were no marital connections to stop you. Your beloved uncle, who more or less raised you in the absence of your father, had been the deepest love in your heart all your life. Whether or not that had been a romantic love or not, you could not deny the way your body responded to his touch as if you had yearned for this moment ever since you first read of love. Holding him this close felt as natural as breathing.

“Hush now, little starling,” he cooed as his lips blazed a trail up to your earlobe and nibbled gently, all while pressing his palm into your skirt so his fingers could make contact with your mound beneath, making featherlight strokes into the fabric and causing your hips to buck into his hand. “Tepagon aōla naejot nyke.” Give yourself to me.

The darkness enveloped the daylight as you nodded in agreement, and in the blink of an eye Daemon gripped your hips, spun you to face him and captured your lips with his. At first tentative, he pulled back to scan your face for a response, only to growl hungrily as he watched your gaze journey to his lips eagerly awaiting their next contact, consuming your mouth with his before you could mutter a protest. Your hands instinctively reached to lace around his neck, drawing him closer and dipping into the kiss as if your hunger could not be sated, craving as much contact as physically possible.

Without you knowing, Daemon had steered your clinch across the room toward the nearest desk, lifting you to rest on the wood and swiftly hitching your skirt up around your hips in the process. His lips refused to part from yours, nudging his nose into your cheek and humming contentedly against your mouth. With one hand cupping your cheek, the other ghosted a featherlight trail from your knee to your inner thigh, blazing toward your smallclothes between your legs, grazing the sodden fabric as it clung to your core.

“You already want the darkness, don’t you niece?” He pressed, groaning greedily and venturing both hands to rip the weak cotton apart at the seams. With his last obstacle laid to waste and clinging to your hips, his fingers grazed your pulsing folds and collected the waiting droplets of your anticipation. “I have waited so many years to feel your heat, ñuha vēzos.” My sun.

Your vision swirled like a hurricane, conflicting emotions and thoughts blurring the image of the silver-haired prince gazing down at you through lust-blown pupils as he watched his fingers daring to breach your folds before you gave him permission.

“Kepus, not yet,” you pleaded against your own better judgement, a whimper escaping him as you planted both palms on his chest to keep him an arm’s distance away. “We are not yet married, I don’t think this is right.”

Daemon chuckled to himself before grasping both your wrists in one hand and raising them above your head, his free hand pressing your chest to lay you flat on the desk. Pinning your wrists above you and leaning down to hover over you, two fingers rediscovered your folds and slipped inside in one smooth motion.

“Then don’t think, sweetling,” he whispered as he buried his fingers inside you to the knuckle, fingertips eagerly curling into your spongy walls and stroking slowly. Your hips tentatively reared into his touch, a palpable trepidation leaving you worrying about your maidenhead, the pain of coupling that literature failed to address yet had always remained on the lips of every birthing woman within the Keep. Daemon noticed your hesitation and thrust his fingers deeper, eliciting a strangled gasp from the depths of your lungs and revelling in your back arching into his motions. “It’s alright starling, the darkness has you now.”

You swallowed harshly, eyes roving to the ceiling as the full sensation in your cunt overwhelmed you. With a disapproving click of his tongue, Daemon tightened his grip on your wrists and slammed them against the hard wood, making you hiss gently.

“Don’t take your eyes off me, niece,” he commanded until your gaze met his again, ramping up the pace of his pumps as you buckled beneath him. “You need not be ashamed of letting go. Let your kepus take control.”

Daemon’s thumb journeyed to settle on your clit, tracing lazy circles around your bundle of nerves while his fingers drove fervently in a race to reach the furthest points inside you, the wet slaps of his motions echoing through the library. Watching closely as your back arched against his restraint, your eyes fluttering to close as if your climax were nearing, the edge of your pleasure cliff was cruelly snatched from you as his fingers withdrew from your soaking folds with a lewd pop. In a determined hurry and a rustle of fabric, Daemon fumbled with his breeches and freed himself before quickly replacing his digits with a smooth thrust of his length into your cunt. Your determined lubrication enabled his swift entry to sheath himself inside you, but not without discomfort as you winced to handle the stretch of your walls around his girth.

“Easy now, vēzos,” he soothed, pressing a palm into the valley of your hips to feel his tip grazing your innermost core and sending a shallow shiver throughout your body. “Soon the pain will become comfortable, I promise.”

You swallowed deeply, nodding in compliance and dutifully wrapping your legs around his waist to allow him easier access within you. Daemon grunted, making his next thrust deep and punishing to the point you yelped out, filling the library with the echoes of your cries.

“That’s it, little one,” he hummed contentedly, working your cunt with his bucking hips like a man possessed, his free hand gripping your hip to impale you further. He leaned further over you to hover his lips over yours, his towering stature blocking out the dim candlelight of the room and enveloping you in pitch black night. “Give yourself to me, let the darkness take you.”

With every merciless thrust deep into your cunt, your helpless mewls grew louder which only encouraged Daemon’s animalistic plunges within you. Gathering what little strength you could muster, you weakly pulled your wrists against his restraint.

“Please… need to… touch you,” you stuttered, fingers clamouring into mid-air for contact. Daemon’s sadistic grin faded as he acquiesced, your hands firing to curl around his neck and pulled him in for a searing kiss so you could silence your screams into his mouth, his relentless force pummelling you into the hard wood of the desk beneath which was sure to leave flayed grazes on your spine the next day.

“My little sunshine, you feel like heaven around me,” he cooed against your lips, curling his thrusts to bottom out inside you so hard your blurred vision of him would glitter with stars. “Does this not feel like heaven to you?”

You whimpered an unintelligible response, unable to compose any coherent thought as his cock filled you to the hilt. The searing heat swelling inside you brought the vision of your cliff edge back into sharp focus, begging you to drive your hips up to meet his in a desperate race for your release. Daemon recognised your eagerness and met it with a newfound brutal pace, pounding into you so fast the lewd skin slapping that echoed through the chamber became staccato and relentless.

“When you are carrying my child, your father will wed you to me,” he leaned to whisper in your ear, anchoring himself by wrapping his hand around your throat, his fingers and thumb pressing eagerly into each side to stem your blood flow rushing to your head, leaving you breathless and helpless. “And I will return inside your pretty little cunt every single night for the rest of our lives.”

His thrusts became jagged, betraying his own approach to the precipice.

“You see, every night the darkness consumes the light.”

With one last devastating thrust, your high flooded through you like a tidal wave and crashed against Daemon’s incoming climax, flooding your walls with his release and blending with your own, his gaze travelling to watch the space between you as his glistening cock hammered into your depths and stuttered as he poured inside you. The once-deafening lewd sounds of your coupling now replaced with ragged breaths, gasps for air and Daemon’s contented grunts as he rode out his orgasm within you, you threw your head back against the wood in sheer realisation of your own weakness.

Not yet married, but most likely to carry your kepus’ child before long.

You threw your hands to your belly, clutching at the flatness between your pelvis. Pulling out from you and admiring the soaking mess between your folds, Daemon’s hands rested upon yours as you looked up to find him gazing lovingly at the same space which terrified you to the core.

“Byka vēzos,” he hummed. Little sun. “If you do not conceive this time, we have the rest of our lives together to ensure you will.”

~~She looked like a bride, I was making my own name~~

Some flowers bloom only when the sun sets.

You blossomed for Daemon in a way he could never have anticipated. His bravery in the battlefield garnered him the courage to risk it all for a chance to make you his wife, but he found so very little resistance in your kind reception that his claim over you simply fell into his lap. The thrill of the chase evaded him, as you caved so effortlessly to his will.

Each time he requested your presence in his chambers, you parted your thighs and accepted him willingly. Yet each time you requested his presence in turn, he refused, ensuring he kept you wanting more and more, the suspense crafting a new height of pleasure each time you were called to his chambers, bent over his bed and pounded within an inch of consciousness.

Daemon Targaryen had laid his claim to your body and mind, yet all that remained was his possession of your soul.

Unbeknownst to you, Daemon had long pleaded with your father to wed you to him. Informally at first, often disguised as a joke to strengthen the Targaryen bloodline by betrothing two dragons to each other to fight for all eternity. But since the night in the library, his requests increased in volume and tenacity, resulting in a physical confrontation in the throne room between dragon brothers. Dismissing Daemon’s demand as nothing more than a vicious clamour for the Iron Throne, your father sought to banish his brother from King’s Landing to Dragonstone, where he would live out his days out of earshot of the Red Keep, where he would never again hear the pathetic whimpers of a man desperate to bed his youngest daughter for power.

To you, that night came as any other, as Daemon’s maid requested your presence in his chambers at the dead of night and you dutifully obliged, pacing the Keep corridors in eager anticipation of meeting him once more. As you crept through his door, a heavy fabric flew towards you and you grabbed it in mid-air. A dark cloak.

“Kepus, what—?”

“We need to leave. Tonight.” Daemon’s voice was short, snappy, panicked as his face came into view in the darkness. His brows knitted together, his lips skewed with fear.

“Wh… why? Did my father refuse our betrothal?”

“Of course he fucking did,” Daemon snapped through gritted teeth, grabbing the cloak still laying in your shaking hands and throwing it over your shoulders for you. “We need to leave for Dragonstone now, there’s a boat waiting for us in the harbour.”

“I don’t… why do we… what happened?” You were frozen to the spot, confusion washing over you in waves. Daemon’s hands balled into fists as he adjusted the hood over your head.

“Will you stop asking so many fucking questions? Just get down to the harbour, I’ll meet you there soon.”

“Kepus… I’m scared,” you stuttered, hands held out in front of you as if still holding the heavy cloak. “Will I ever see my parents again?”

Daemon smoothed the fabric over your shoulders and tucked the hood over your eyes. Pressing a quick dismissive kiss to the fabric laying over your forehead, he clasped your face and pulled it upwards.

“Whatever happens, little starling, we are each other’s family from this moment on.”

Suddenly, the tense silence between you shattered to the sound of deafening bangs on the door to his chambers. Immediately hunching his back defensively, he ushered you across the chamber toward a dark passage where a rogue guard waited to take you onward. “Place your trust in Ser Baleon, I will meet you at the shore.”

The crashes against the wooden portal intensified as you fled, the distinct swoop of metal from the chamber behind you suggesting Daemon had armed himself against the ambush. Searing hot tears blazed volcanic streams down your cheeks as you fought to focus on your steps down the dark spiral staircase to safety, wondering if you would ever see Daemon alive again.

~~Chasing that fame, she stayed the same~~

“Your father is a cunt,” Daemon hissed, storming into your Dragonstone chambers and crossing the room in three great strides to tower over you.

“Surely not, kepus,” you attempted to calm his temper with a reassuring palm pressed to his chest. “What has he said to irk you so?”

“He’s sent a raven to enquire after you,” he seethed, his jaw clenched tightly as if it might snap at any moment. “He claims that I kidnapped you in the dead of night and will not return you to your birthright in the Red Keep.”

“But I came to Dragonstone of my own free—,” you were cut off by Daemon’s hand firing to grasp your throat, your fingers racing to claw at his grip and prize yourself free.

“Well why don’t you speak those precious words to your beloved father instead?” He half-growled, sneering down at you as if you were his prey. “He seems to be the one that needs persuading of your own free will, Princess.”

“If you… if you let me, I will,” you stuttered against his restrictive clutch, weakly attempting an escape to breathe properly.

“You would love that, wouldn’t you?” He snarled, using one hand to spin you by your waist while retaining his grip on your throat, pressing his chest flush to your back and steering you to the bed. “You could run back to the Red Keep and your books and your perfect little boring life.”

“Kepus, please,” you protested weakly, reaching a hand ahead of you to cushion your fall as he dropped you face-first into the sheets. “Please, don’t…”

“Please don’t what, starling?” He chuckled, bunching your skirt over your behind and battling with his own breeches. “Don’t fight for my family, or don’t take my wife whenever I so wish?”

You scrunched your eyes closed, willing to block out whatever was coming next. This was not the careful husband you knew, this was not the devoted uncle who raised you in place of your father, this was certainly not the man who you fell in love with under a stormcloud amongst ancient tomes. This midnight rain will pass, no matter how much love it unravels in the eye of the storm.

Delivering a swift nudge to your thighs, your legs were parted and Daemon crawled between them, grasping your hips and drawing you up to impale yourself on his hardened cock. With no preparation, you yelped at the intrusion and hissed gently.

“The pain will soon become comfortable,” he declared as he ruthlessly bottomed out inside you. “I promise.”

Tears welled in your eyes, threatening to burst their banks as the agony coursed through you in waves, slowly replaced by bolts of pleasure as his tip grazed your innermost walls.

“Please… take me easily, my Prince,” you wheezed out between merciless thrusts stealing your breath from your lungs. “I am… I am with…”

“You would do well not to give orders when I can ensure you lose consciousness in a moment, little one,” Daemon hissed, pounding into you with an inhuman pace, sending your eyes roving to the ceiling as his nails dug crescent dips into the flesh of your hips. “You want to stay awake while I fill you up, don’t you? Maybe this time you will bear me a child.”

“Daemon, please be gentle…,” you fought to finish your declaration while balling your fists into the sheets, your elbows caving beneath you. “I am with child.”

With your last syllable, Daemon’s thrusts ceased instantly, leaving you whimpering at the immediate loss of friction. He stilled completely, not so much as a laboured breath escaping him behind you, his length still nestled halfway inside you.

“My Prince, I… I’m sorry,” you reassured, venturing a hand back towards him as if willing him to hold it. “I should have spoken sooner.”

You breathed into the deafening silence, wondering if he did not wish you to deliver the news in such a manner. Suddenly, a cool splash of water hit your scalding spine. A tear. Daemon’s tear.

“I have failed you, starling,” he sighed, completely shattering his blind rage into a self-deprecating reflection. Allowing his length to slip out from your folds, he released your hips and collapsed onto the sheets beside you. “After all this time, I could have destroyed our child with my recklessness.”

“You have never failed me, kepus, our babe is safe inside me,” you purred, reaching to brush another tear from his cheek. “If he’s anything like his father, he can withstand any amount of force.”

Daemon’s saddened gaze turned to you, still on all fours beside him. He ventured a hand to brush your cheek.

“I do not deserve you, vēzos jehikagon.” Sunshine.

In the blink of an eye, you threw a leg over his own to capture him between your thighs. Hovering your waiting folds over his length, still hardened and bobbing between your bodies as you awaited a signal to proceed.

“Let me please you, my King,” you pleaded, one hand venturing between your legs to stroke his cock and line his tip with your aching entrance.

Daemon’s gaze met yours, his wounded pride hooding his eyelids in contrast with your wide-eyed anticipation. You smiled at your silver-haired captor so warmly, he could not resist your brilliant sunshine blinding him to walk into the light. Gently bucking his hips to meet you in the middle, you lowered onto his length and shared a gratuitous moan as he filled you slowly and completely.

“You are truly carrying my babe?” His hands journeyed to your belly, swelling softly beneath his palms as you rocked gently into him.

“As true as the sun shines above us, ñuha jorrāelagon.” My love. “The Maester says it is early, so I should rest as much as possible.”

Daemon stilled, concerned. “Then you should cease at once, allow me to…”

“And deprive me of this moment with my beloved? Never,” you asserted, sinking down carefully and bucking your hips to graze his tip against your walls, dropping so far you could swear you felt his cock deep in your stomach. “Besides, I may not be able to ride my dragon for much longer so I will take any chance I can get.”

“When you grow too weary to ride your dragon,” Daemon’s fingers splayed out across your belly as you bobbed above him, his eyes journeying to the ceiling momentarily as the sensation of your walls tightening around him stole his breath. “Rest assured that your dragon will take good care of you, little one.”

The mere implication of his words sent you careering to your precipice, clenching tightly around his cock as your walls rippled and pulsed with the approach of your orgasm. Noticing the sensitivity of your walls to his every motion inside you, jolting and surging around him to bring his rhythmic rutting up into you to a jagged pattern, signalling the arrival of his own climax.

“Let go for me,” he commanded through a whisper, keeping his palms pressed to your abdomen and revelling in the strangled gasps you could no longer hold back, grinding your hips to ride through your high as he deftly painted your walls in staccato thrusts.

Filling the chamber with your mixed groans and deep pants as you slowed your motions above him, you couldn’t bear to move from atop Daemon for fear of losing the moment you shared. Instead, he gripped your hips and turned you onto the sheets, keeping his length buried within you as you lay beside each other.

“Gevie muña,” Daemon muttered under his breath as he reached to brush your silver hair from your face.

Beautiful mother.

~~All of me changed like midnight~~

It had taken you the best part of half an hour to muster the strength enough to heave yourself from the birthing chair. Propping yourself up on the fruit table stacked high with pomegranates, you gazed out from your Dragonstone chamber to the harbour beyond. The day was bright, gleaming, the waters mirroring the same blissful turquoise sky beneath which you used to read your books, drift off into fantastical realms and dismiss your own captivity as the Princess Regent with no responsibility and no freedom.

The Maester said your third birth would be easier than the initial two, but so far he had been proven catastrophically wrong. When sickness could not claim you, tiredness and weakness took hold. Days blended into each other, weeks dragged for months, your belly swelled overnight as you lay helpless in the birthing chair simply waiting for an end to the monotony of childbirth. After delivering Daemon two sons, you assumed your duty as a birthing mother had been fulfilled, yet another child swelled no sooner than the second had left your womb.

A pair of hands snaked around your hips to cradle your blossoming belly, fingers spread out over the span of the bump to feel every sensation beneath your skin. A chin rested in the crook of your neck and peppered lazy, haphazard kisses over your ear.

“Good morning, ñuha byka vēzos,” he cooed softly, his breaths warming your neck. My little sun. “You are not usually out of the chair so early, are you not well? Is our Prince keeping you from rest, little starling?”

You sighed as you dipped your head against his, placing your hands atop his as they surveyed your belly.

“I am quite well, husband,” you comforted him, tracing idle patterns over his hands, still as delicate as the day he first held you as a babe. “I’m always well when I am with you.”

Gazing out beyond the Dragonstone harbour, you could make out the faint outlines of the Red Keep from the safety of Daemon’s arms. Word from court suggested your father’s physical strength was at its last. Your mother sent a parchment requesting your presence but your husband intercepted it before it reached your hand, dismissing your concerns and reassuring that a raven would arrive at once if the King was indeed on his deathbed.

King’s Landing lay just beyond the dock, a symbol of the life you gave away for the sake of love. When you once believed you could never attain the love as told in literature, you failed to notice you had already fallen into such an affair. Persephone and Hades, the blinding sunshine tempted into the all-consuming darkness.

Such a pretty little songbird.

In such a pretty little cage.

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kytrisz · 9 months

Text

Are you happy? | Matt Smith

| pairing. matt smith x reader

It's been a while since you and Matt, your boyfriend for quite some time now, spent time together. Due to his project, which has kept him gone for nearly 6 months, and your hectic schedule, the two of you have had little time for each other. So being together now is quite a new fresh air in the relationship.

Both of you book a stone house in Italy countryside to get away from everything else, as he said "everything felt too fast-paced", which you have the same sentiment with.

During your stay, you did a lot of activities together to compensate for the time being apart for so long. You went for a walk in the forest, had picnics in the backyard, gazed at the stars at night, and even rode your bikes down the street. Everything felt peaceful, everything is perfect,

well almost...

You're currently laying on the couch after returning from dinner at a restaurant near the house that Matt reserved for you. It was a great spot, with delicious cuisine and beautiful scenery. Making your heart thump lightly when you realize how well Matt knows you.

You snuggled against his chest, listening to his breathing and the beat of his heart, while his fingers write things in your back you don't understand.

As you were about to slumber way to sleep, you felt him grumble as if he was saying something.

"...hmmm?" you asked, carefully placing your chin on his chest as you looked at him, more like catching him staring at you. Where his chocolate eyes are fixed on you and nothing else. Making you feel butterflies on the inside. He always never fails to make you feel special, as if you're a treasure he wants to keep.

"Did you say something?" you asked softly, staring at him with wonder.

It took a minute of silence and staring before Matt let out a chuckle, putting his hand on your head to caress it, "How long have we been together, love?"

"It's almost what, 3 years now I guess," you murmured, then realizing, "3 years... Matt!" you cried, surprised at how long you and Matt had been together. Startling him, who is below you.

"We've been together for 3 years! 3 years! I felt so old now," you chuckle.

"Shouldn't I be the one saying that?" Matt jokes, after all, you guys have quite a big age gap. And it's no secret among the general public, who are constantly making comments about it.

Letting out a small chuckle you lay again to snuggle to his neck and mumbled "That's true", laughing alongside him.

A moment of silence enters again, only your breathing and his can be heard in the room along with the two hearts beating in sync.

As your breathing turns to shallow, and your eyelids begin to drop, you felt yourself detach from reality and began to fall asleep.

But just as your eyes were about to close, you heard Matt utter something that threw you off guard.

"Are you happy to be with me, love?"

"... "

When you didn't answer, Matt glances down to give you a soothing smile. "You don't have to answer, my love," he sighed, but you can hear the shakiness in his voice.

Staring at his chocolate orbs as if looking for an answer, you finally replied "Sometimes..."

You watched him arch his brow, looking a bit confused but mostly bothered by your answer. He may not say it, but you know he always beat himself up for not being present in your relationship.

"Because you annoy me a lot," you said seriously but failed as he poked your sides and laughed.

"But seriously, I do." fixing your gaze on his "I'm glad I spent my last three years with you."

"Why?"

"Hmm, what do you mean why?" A bit confused by his question.

"Why are you happy being with me?"

You saw in his eyes filled with contemplation, bother if he should take back what he said.

Sighing, you pull yourself up and straddle his waist. "Well, I'm happy being with you because even though we're miles apart, you never fail to make me feel alone. You always try your best to call me and even text me when you don't need to. You even do things that you don't even like because you know it makes me happy! But do you know what truly makes me happy?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm happy because you love me," you grinned, leaning forward to touch his forehead and caress his cheeks, "and I'm happy because I love you"

And through your answer, Matt smiled at you with contentment, and all the worries you saw in his eyes finally washed away.

"I love you so much, Matt, more than you can imagine," you said solemnly.

Looking at you adoringly, he replied, "And I love you so," placing a hand on your head to lower you and plant his lips into yours.

At that moment, time appeared to stop and the world faded away, leaving just the two of you in your little universe with your hearts dancing to the rhythm of their symphony.

#matt smith #matt smith x reader #matt smith x you #matt smith fanfic #matt smith fanfiction #fluff #oneshot

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dae-daetargaryen · 1 year

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modERN daEMON tarGARYEN: ...

me:

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lillianastras · 2 years

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“To the Lands of Old Valyria” | Daemon Targaryen

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Warnings: Angsty, but not really triggery

A/N: This was written in a few hours on a Sunday night, so it isn’t proofread, but I decided to post it anyway. Enjoy some angsty bitchy attention whore boy.

“It is good you consider this funny.” Daemon Targaryen spits the words out through gritted teeth as he turns his burning violet eyes to the woman next to him. His reaction seems to amuse her, which in his turn angers him some more. “I certainly do not.”

She makes an obvious effort to erase the grin from her features, pursing her soft lips together, but still fails miserably. We must all grieve our own way. “I would never jest about anything as serious, my prince.” Her eyes turn to the wall and she breaks, her lips stretching to a toothy grin. “But you have to admit this is hilarious.”

Daemon has enough of it already. He pushes himself from the chair, so hard he makes the silverware on the table rattle, and makes his way to the window. It was suffocating him, the room, the castle, the whole gods forsaken city. He could saddle Caraxes and…

“It is even so practical, you see, instead of two separate weddings,” his thoughts are interrupted and he turns around to look at her, her eyes focused on the ceiling, as if she is deep in thought, “we could simply have one. Good old Otto should be made Master of Coin, don’t you think?”

Otto Hightower. He was going to kill him. One day, sooner than later, he would drag him down the corridors of the Dragon Pit, beaten and bloodied, and feed him to the beasts.

“Do you think my new Lord Husband would wonder if I am a maiden, or he won’t be that stupid?” Her last words make him physically sick. The thought of some other man’s hands on her is one thought too many and the look he gives her is enough to finally, oh gods finally, silence her. The moment she shuts her mouth, her face changes and he finally sees it. The fear, the desperation, like an animal cornered. The realisation that this is really happening.

“They are really making us go through with this, aren’t they?” She asks, her voice is throaty, like she is choking back the tears. She is going to marry some lord far in the North and he would get to spend the rest of his days in Runestone, in the bloody Vale. If he isn’t so angry, he thinks, he might even feel sorry for himself.

One look at his lady’s teary eyes makes that thought leave his head immediately. He couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw Viserys nod fervently to the plan his Hand had presented, the fine and rich match Lady Rhea Royce was for the younger brother of the king. What about me? Can’t you once listen to what I have to say? I am your brother, for fuck’s sake! And marrying off his paramour right away, taking her to the other end of the Continent, what a sick, cruel joke that was, nothing to do with politics, but only for the sake of wounding him. Can’t you see how she makes me feel? Otto already took his place by his brother’s side away from him, he would now take his lover away as well. Gods, he really hated him.

His eyes dart down, his thoughts interrupted when he feels her arms wrap around him, her face burying in his chest as her body shakes in silent sobs. He places a kiss on the top of her head, pulling her even closer to him, as if he let go, she would disappear. Which, when he thinks about it, isn’t really far from the truth.

“I am not going to let it happen,” he declares, raising his hands to caress her hair. “I’ll let them all know I took your maidenhood and no one would want to take you anymore. ”

The words earn him a muffled laughter, and when she looks up at him, her chin resting on his chest, her eyes are wet and puffy. “How noble of you indeed.”

“I will, then I will take you and Caraxes and get far away from here, somewhere East, to the lands of old Valyria and then… ” Then what? They both knew those were empty words, empty promises of a desperate man.

“Please, let us talk no more of this.” She begs, resting her cheek against his chest again, letting a deep sigh. “Let us stay like that… just for a while.” And he doesn’t speak a word more, letting her presence soothe the pain that the future was bringing, silently swearing in the Old Gods and the New that he would not let anyone take her away from him. And make that sorry bastard Hightower wish he was never even born.

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newtsniffles · 2 years

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It Is Always Him | Daemon Targaryen

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Fem!Targaryen!Reader

Summary: You could not help but to worry about your uncle who was currently fighting a war, because it was him. It was always him.

Warning/s: Not proof read, other than that, just some fluff I suppose? Daemon being caring?

Word count: 1.8k

You had always loved the dawn. The rise of the sun in King’s Landing always casted a fiery hue over the once starlit sky. From The Red Keep, you had one of the best views in what you would say in all of Westeros. The same heated colours would cast their reflections onto The Narrow Sea, and your lilac irises would take the sight in like a child would with a table full of sweets. Always, since the first name day you could remember, you would wake and gaze out the windows of your bed chambers. Even if it meant you to be left tired and in need of an afternoon nap when the sun reached the peak. However, these days you found yourself staring out to the horizon more often than usual. In the dawn, throughout the day as the sun flew overhead, when the day turned to dusk, and out to the stars on many sleepless nights. Was nobody worried for your uncle but you? Did anybody else care that he could die at war?

The second child of King Viserys and his late wife, Aemma, you were ignored as another daughter. Rhaenyra was ‘The Realm’s Delight,’ the first born by mere hours, but you? You were just another failed attempt at a son. Sometimes you wondered, if you had of been born even a few moments before your dear sister, would it be different? Your uncle, Daemon, was the only person you could ever say was really ‘there’ for you. Yes, he tended to disappear for a while every now and then or get exiled only to be back a few turns of the moon later. But it was him who understood you. It was him who knew the feeling of being outcasted by his family, to be alone yet surrounded by the living and breathing. For it was him who chose the dragon egg that laid in your cradle with you as a babe. It was him who helped you to name the large, black-scaled phantom. A name your beloved dragon, Daerys, had earnt for herself as she blended into the night sky, invisible to the eyes of people below. It was Daemon that taught you as a child to speak High Valyrian. It was Daemon that showed you a few tricks in protecting yourself. It was Daemon who—It was always, Daemon.

Since you had heard of the war, you would stare out to the sky in hopes of seeing Caraxes swooping his way to the dragon pit with your uncle on his back. It has been two years, and you have yet to see what you desire. You had begged your father with each turn of sun to moon that he would send help for Daemon. After two full turns of the seasons, he did, but never was it for you.

The sight of a Targaryen ship in the distance drew you from your thoughts. Ah, Rhaenyra must be returning from her tour to find a suitable husband. That was one thing that you never found yourself jealous of. Father had recommended to you that you get married as well, but it was less of a rush as you were not set to inherit the throne. You could not tell how long you had been staring at the ship before a piercing roar had echoed through the never-ending skies. You need not a moment to realise the sound of Caraxes, nor do you need a mere second as his red, snake-like body tore through the sky. The question you were asking yourself was only this: was your uncle on the back of The Blood Wyrm? If so, was he injured, was he even alive? Or did the dragon carry his bloodstained body?

“Kepus—” uncle. You rushed out the doors of your chambers. Nimble feet made their way to the throne room without a second thought as the whispers of servants echoed around the halls. You stood to the right, looking across on tipped toes to your sister who stood across the way. She was always kind to you, you loved her dearly, and she was aware of the affection you held for your uncle. With a nod of her head, a breath you had not realised you had been holding left your lips. He was alive.

It was when he turned the corner and walked proudly with his chest puffed that you finally felt the tension leave your body. You had barely listened to a thing he said to your father, too busy thanking the Gods for his safe return. As the two embraced, and appeared as brothers for once in their lives, a small smile had graced your face. For this was the best thing that could happen, perhaps your father would let him stay here instead of exiling him for going against orders again. Perhaps, with this win under his belt, your father would now care less of your affections for Daemon, and let you spend your leisure time with him freely.

“We shall throw festivities to honour your valiant effort and victory, brother.”

You had never been one for these sorts of gatherings, or well… gatherings in general. There was no point in being at them, only to be disregarded, ignored, alone. But this was to celebrate Daemon’s victory. And you had hope that he would seek you out to talk, that he would embrace you so you could hear the beating of his heart, further confirming for you that he is alive and well. Leaning against a stone pillar, you watched onwards as he was mid-discussion with your father, Alicent, and Rhaenyra. You could go over there, but you would rather stay where you are. Not a fan of Alicent, or your father for a fact, considering he was no fan of yours. You wondered if Daemon had thought about you at all in his years away. If he had missed, you as much as you did him. It was when he gazed up at you through lightly coloured brows from a distance that you knew he had thought of you, at least once. His purple eyes always told what his words could not. And his eyes in this very moment told you that he too, did not wish for these festivities, that he too would rather be in your company and your company alone.

“Excuse me,” Daemon gave a nod to his brother before beginning the short walk away from the festivities to you. As he moved closer, you took note of his features. He had not changed much, and you were grateful that no scars were visible for it would pain you greatly to know he was once hurt. His hair had been cut short, a strand fell over his forehead, and you noted that it suited him well. “Issi ao daor emare kirimves, ñuha dōna niece?” Are you not having fun, my sweet niece? Daemon came to a stop, barely half a metre away from his niece.

“Ao gīmigon īlen dōrī really mēre syt these ra, kepus.” You know I was never really one for these things, uncle.

“Nor iksin nyke.’ nor am I.

“I thought you would be enjoying this. It is for your victory after all,” you gazed up at him playfully, for he was far taller than you. “Perhaps now, father might leave you alone.”

“I think we both know that not possible,” he smirked down at you. A few moments passed of you only looking at each other. But it wasn’t awkward. It was comfortable.

“I missed you,” you couldn’t help but admit. “I begged father everyday to send help. But I hear that in the end, you did not need it.” Daemon glances to the side before reaching forward to tuck a stray hair behind your ear.

“You need not worry about me, dōna riña,” sweet girl. He smiles softly, a smile reserved for you only. The names he called you never failed to leave you flustered. “Were you treated well while I was away?”

“The same as usual. I tend to be left to keep to myself,” you sigh. “Rhaenyra has been busy with heir duties, despite her wishes. I don’t believe I have had a proper conversation with someone in many turns of the moon. It has been lonely.” Daemon’s purple eyes stare into the lilac of your own.

“Iksā daor mērī, dōrī mērī,” you are not alone, never alone. Daemon whispered in their native tongue for only them to understand.

“Skorkydoso would ao gīmigon? emā daor issare kesīr,” how would you know? You have not been here. You tried desperately to push away the tears that threaten to fall like a wounded soldier in battle. Daemon grabs your hand, with a quick glance over his shoulder, he pulls you around the corner and away from any prying eyes. Hand moving to settle on your cheek, thumb grazing a lone tear.

“Īlen mijegon iā iderennon. Nyke would dōrī henujagon ao mērī ondoso iderennon.” I was without a choice. I would never leave you alone by choice. “Viserys is weak. Lo nyke gōntan daor jikagon naejot vīlībāzma, īlon mirre would botagon,” If I did not go to war, we all would suffer.

“I know,” you sighed. Your arms wrap around his torso, head moving to nuzzle into his chest. His own arms move, one around your shoulders, the other hand cradles your head. “I was scared that you would not return.”

“But I did,” his hand runs across your white hair before pulling back to place them both on your cheeks, bringing your head out from his chest. In his eyes, you could see a man that has been to war, a man that has faced death, and been the death of many men. And yet in his presence, you weren’t sure it possible that you could feel any safer. And as you gazed into his eyes, you didn’t know if it was boldness or weakness, but you leant forward and placed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Daemon closed his eyes and rested his forehead against your own

“īlon jorrāelagon naejot jikagon aril,” we need to go back.

“Gaomagon īlon?” Do we? Daemon whispered. His thumb moved to run along your lower lip before he passionately connected them with his own. Your back pushes against the wall behind you in his fervour. Your arms move around his neck, fingers toying with the hair on the back of his neck.

“People could see,” you whisper as his lips follow along your jaw and down to your neck.

“Let them,” Daemon presses one last kiss to your temple. “Ivestragī zirȳ gīmigon iksā ñuhon, dōna jorrāelagon. Iksā protected ondoso nyke.” Let them know you are mine, sweet love. You are protected by me. His. Yes, that sounds as it should. It is always him. It is always, Daemon.

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#daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon fanfic #matt smith #matt smith imagine #matt smith fanfiction #matt smith x reader #daemon targaryen imagines

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my-on-and-off-writingstuff · 1 year

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Troublemaker PT. 4 | Daemon Targaryen x reader

Summary: When I said I would not write another part of troublemaker, oops. here it is. Daemon worrying about his pregnant wife. part 1, part 2, part 3 of the troublemaker serie.

111 AC

“Y/n Targaryen what in the gods name are you doing?” she looked over her shoulder to see your husband and you feel the horse stiffen underneath you. For a split second you have the fear that it will buck and run for the hills, but it calms down enough to shake its head and relax. You softly stroke her neck and praise her for not running away in fear. Anya is a beautiful black mare, who could be clumsy at times, but she trotted and jumped as the best. She did not like men around her much and at times she could have a bit of a temperament, but she was a gentle soul and very curious. As soon as the two of you had meet. She had instantly bonded with you and you with her. She had been a gift from Daemon for your first marriage anniversary. According to him, the horse’s temperament had reminded you of him when he saw Anya for the very first time. He had been away for business and when walking through the stables with a lord he had come across Anya.

“Anya needed exercise!” You yell back at your lovely husband who looks like he had just recovered from a panic attack. He has been way to worried about you for the last few months and today his concern was shining bright as ever. “Get your lovely ass of that horse before you break something, the maester said no horse riding anymore, you need to rest.” You laugh softly but do not make any moves of climbing down instead you direct Anya with your knees closer to Daemon. “He is an old man; exercise is healthy for the three of us.”

You almost feel sorry for your husband, but the maester was old and conservative, you knew your body the best and had seen your fair side of pregnancies in your life. You know that you were not too far along yet to ride a horse and exercise is just as healthy if not more than staying in bed all day. However, your poor husband was not that convinced the exercise part and had asked a maester for advice. Since you had told him you were pregnant, he had not let you of his eye, always fussing over you and making a scene out of it wherever you went. You knew deep down that he was scarred of losing you like he had lost his mother. He would save you in a heartbeat over the child if it came to it and you both knew it. As he had said he did not need child perse, but he could not live without you. Nonetheless you were pretty sure that as soon at the little one was born, he would all but forget about you.

He slowly comes closer, and you saw the worry on his face. “I just worry, for you and the babe.” You smile at him and reach out your hand for him to take while still sitting atop of Anya. “I know but I am not made of glass or sugar for that matter.” Daemon takes your hand and brings it to his mouth placing a gentle kiss on the back of your hand. “Even if you where you would be the strongest type of glass, but it’s a husband’s job to worry.” Before you can reject that statement his arms quickly lift you up from the saddle and he settles you down next to him, tucking you into his side. “However, you are trouble whenever you go, and I rather not find my wife with a broken neck.” You huff and lightly hit his chest. “I am a better rider then you are.” He smiles down at you, and you twist yourself out of his arms. “That you are but you also currently have a condition which has not made you less clumsy.”

Your face flushes with anger and quickly turn around to focus on Anya and ignore Daemons last statement. Anya is not faring much better as she is breathing harshly through her noose and stomping her leg on the grass. Apparently, Daemon has also reached his limit with her. She shakes her head at Daemon and before you can even intervene throws him on his ass right in a puddle of mud. You stifle your laugh as you know look down on your husband who looks at the both of you with a look of shock and acceptance. “I don’t think Anya, nor I approve of you calling me being pregnant a condition.” With those words you turn around leading Anya back to the stables leaving Daemon behind in the mud.

Daemon shakes his head still in disbelief as he watches his little troublemaker walk away with her little helper. He knew he should not have said those words and the universe had found a way to punish him for it. Groaning he lifted himself up to his own two feet and followed your form to the stables like a puppy.

111 AC

Everybody you came across today was not meeting your eyes and it was getting old real fast. Because you were concerned that something was wrong with your appearance you had looked in a mirror, but both your hair and face looked perfectly fine. You had racked your brain to try and come up with an explanation for why everybody was ignoring you but the only thing that came to mind was that Daemon had found a way to get himself, and to an extension you exiled again.

You smiled at the approaching lord coming from the council room, which you remembered to be working alongside your husband. But like many before him his eyes widen and immediately turn to the ground, rushing past you like you were hideous. You feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment and anger as you walk into the council room to find your husband. As soon as you enter a silence rolls over the remaining lords halting every conversation. One of them even has the audacity to awkwardly cough while looking at Daemon.

Your husband however unashamedly stares at your chest and slowly you feel horrified as you notice the wetness at the chest of the bodice. You groan softly as your eyes find two wet sticky splotches on your bodice. Your body is leaking milk unbeknown to you. It made sense if you thought about it being at the end of pregnancy, but it does not mean you have to like what your body is doing to you. As if walking around like a duck and not being able to see your feet because of your belly wasn’t enough. Only the gods know for how you had walked around with it. Well, nobody had shamed you all had instead chosen to look away to at least grant you some decency. But you would rather have had somebody tell you, that you were walking around with two bloody milk dots. Men are all so stupid.

“Alright out with you all!” Daemon voice booms through the room as he pulls you into his chest. With flushed cheeks you press your face into his chest. “I have been walking with these for a while now, everybody saw, how stupid. I even cursed out some lords after not greeting me.” Daemon only laughs and softly kisses your forehead. “Well at least they listen to my wedding speech about not looking or even thinking about sexualizing you. You look up at survey the room but the only two people still left are Daemon and you. “Well, you did promise to cut out their guts and feed it to them if they did so it think your point was clear. “He lifts you up and gentle sets you down on the table. “Damn straight, you are mine, all mine.” His lips find the border of where your neck and jaw meet, and he possessively kisses the little spot.

“Uncle Daemon…” the soft voice of Rhaenyra carries through the room, but Daemon does not stop instead he attacks your neck with more kisses. “Oh, never mind.” You hear the secondhand embarrassment in her voice as she took in the sight in front of her, but neither Daemon nor you could care at this moment. Moreover, you have had your share of embarrassment for today and having to have a little chat with Rhaenyra after she had just seen you two was not really on things you wanted to discuss today.

113 AC

Daemon was enjoying the sight in front of him. you were laying in the hollow of his arm, your hand laying on his chest, while your head was resting on his arm near his shoulder. Sun was coming through the window as the night sky made space for the sun. your belly was slightly in the way, but he did not care much as he could feeling nothing else then being contempt. You were going to give him another heir and he could not be happier your first pregnancy had been a breeze and he had eased up on the worrying bit the second time around but still he liked it best when you were close to him and engaging in too straining activities.

The door to your shared room opened with a little creak and he looked up, trying to make out who was the intruder. His other hand automatically found the knife hidden by the nightstand. However, the sound of little feet made him halt in his actions as he recognized his first-born son. “Dada, I stay?” Daemon felt you stir in his arms as your eyes fluttered open. You looked over your shoulder and saw your little toddler standing there. Immediately a smile crossed your face. Daemon wondered how the little Baelon had been able to make his way out of his crib and find his way towards your room but let it slide as he saw his soon tiredly wiping his eyes.

You had opened the blanket for Baelon and gestured that he should nestle himself between the two of you, scooting just so slightly back his little body could fit in-between the two of you. Baelon did not need any more encouragement as he climbed his way over Daemon legs to nestle himself in-between. His head rested on your chest, and you closed your eyes again as you hand made its way to Baelon’s back, drawing small circles to sooth him. not long after Daemon heard your breathing pattern change and he knew you were back to sleep. He smiled at himself as he ignored the sun coming into the room even further and nestled back in with his little family. Business could wait he had everything he needed right here. Daemon closed his eyes but not before tightening his grip on his wife and his son.

#daemon x reader #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen oneshot #daemon #Daemon Targaryen #deamon targaryen #daemon targaryen fanfiction #house of the dragon #House of the Dragon imagine #hotd #house of the dragon fancficton #matt smith #matt smith fanfiction #matt smith imagine #got

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em-writes-stuff-sometimes · 1 year

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ñuhus prūmȳs (my heart) │ Chapter 7: A Betrayal PREVIEW (NSFW!)

terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!

Hey, all! Sorry for the delay on this one - I had some MAJOR writer’s block with the plot blocking, but I’m around (conservatively) half-way through. Aiming to have this out by Sunday at the very latest. Hope the (3000-word) preview is enough for now!

You dream in abstract.

There is no form to it, no faces to see nor words to hear in the fanciful void of your mind. Instead, it is shapeless, immaterial, washes of colour and vague impressions of sound like music in a far-off hall. It is a blessed reprieve from the convincing re-enactments of the day’s events your thoughts usually produce under the sway of slumber, and most certainly a relief in light of… No.

A sensation enters your sleeping consciousness, one that does not fit the transience of those singularities swirling about in your head – it is far too concrete, unyielding, unrelenting to belong here. That strange feeling tickles throughout your body, coalescing low in your stomach and pooling warm between your thighs.

You sigh as you awaken slowly, as peaceful as the rocking of an infant in their cradle, drowsily taking note of your surroundings. Propped up against the pillows with your shift gathered at your waist and your legs dangling over your uncle’s wide-set shoulders, you wonder absently how he always manages to rearrange you so without rousing you. Why does he always choose to wake you with his carnal appetites? It seems to you that he has never once attempted to shake you or call your name.

It does not surprise you that he is once more availing himself of your particular assets, given his near unbearable persistence in proving that his previous spell of flaccidity was but a momentary impediment. You have considered hiding to discourage him from making this point yet again – but you do so enjoy the outcome of his efforts.

Your breathing must change cadence, for you are drawn further into the realm of awareness by his large, calloused hand smoothing a path along the side of your rounded belly.

“Sȳz ñāqes, dōnītsos,” Daemon murmurs against your heated flesh, his breath spooling delicately across the puffed folds of your cunny. Good morning, sweetling. “Sh – āmāzīs ēdrugon.” Go back to sleep.

You mumble incoherently, lips tipping up despite your reluctance to awaken. Your hand drifts down to pat against his, and your smile widens when he flips his palm to lock his fingers with your own. He returns to his task, the stubble on his jaw rasping against your inner thighs in tantalising counter to the glide of tongue over tender tissue, nuzzling inexorably at your yearning little bud.

It is sweet, impossibly indulgent, with none of the bite of hurt that you have come to crave in your couplings. You are so sensitive these days that, at times, such contact borders on agonising – the blood in your veins thrums far hotter now that you are three dragons in one form, you and each of the babes in turn. But here in the quiet stillness of the morn, every swipe up the split of you or rumbling resonance through your responsive nerve endings or greedy suckle to your pearl tips you further and further to that golden finish. Your joined hands rest against your middle, stretched taut and full of your children, and you send a silent prayer above in thanks that they are asleep as their father tends so amorously to their mother.

The release is a wave cresting to the shore, gentle and buoyant and rapturous as it ever is. It is as though the ocean pulses out from deep within you, wetting the way for your husband’s return to the safe shores of your body.

“Daemon,” you breathe out, tipping your head back as you let the surge take you. You hear the ruffle of fabric dropping and feel the press of skin against yours.

“Ah-ah – open up, little niece,” comes Daemon’s chiding voice, hands prying your knees from their clenched-together defense of your inflamed womanhood. He props your feet against the bedframe and forces your legs wide, sliding the length of himself through your slick lips. “Your cunt is mine to use, even if you are already bred full.”

The velvet-steel line of his hardened shaft slips inside, a brief press to the scrunching firmness of your entry that gives way with a pop and a rush. He grunts as he cleaves you in two, the heft of his stones slapping against the skin of your rear being the only sign that he cannot invade any further.

You can do nothing but accept it, weighed down by your belly as you are. You arch your back and let out a low whimper, feeling that terrible, wonderful overcrowding in your womb and in your cunny.

“Good girl,” he soothes, stilling the discomfited shift of your hips with an iron grip. It is an abrupt taking – but like the curves of your figure, the efforts of growing his seed to their full has made you softer, rounder, more pliant. You blink hazily at him, mouth opening dumbly as you lay back and surrender to the tide. “Just lay back. Let kepa take care of you.”

His covetous gaze roams across the changes he has wrought in you; your plush thighs, plump cheeks, enlarged breasts and the sway of your distended middle as he pitches into you being but some of the most notable within his immediate reach. It is difficult to be self-conscious of these vicissitudes when his violet eyes fixate so zealously upon them, promptly trailed by the heat of his hands across those same places.

The sight of him – his silver hair rumpled from sleep, the prominent shelf of his brow and the exhilarated parting of his lips, the thrilling menace of his broad shoulders and thick-scarred skin, the flex of his arms as his hands seek new territory to touch – pools hot in your gut, and the sound of your wetness being stirred with his every plunge into you is a churning melody that blazes beneath your skin.

You listen lethargically to the lustful affirmations spilling uncontrollably from Daemon’s lips. He is so terribly loquacious when his cock is in you, consumed by his ardour and forgetting any such difficulties he has in conveying the depth of his emotions.

“… so tight for me, barely any room left for my cock, but you just keep taking it, don’t you?... made to take me… fuck – I’ll fuck you forever, keep you heavy and helpless like this fucking always…”

His obsession with your fecund form is flattering if a bit predictable; you grin sleepily at his words, yawning as you tug up your sleepwear to bare your breasts for him. Your nipples tingle as the cooler air makes contact, tightening them to hard tips, and you smooth the pads of your thumbs over them to alleviate the sudden prickle. His eyes zero in on the movement, ogling you heatedly.

“Play with your tits,” he demands, holding the mass of your belly still so that he may speed the tempo of his cock inside you, thick and hot and catching against that high point along your walls that makes you clamp down uncontrollably. You moan faintly as you reach back up to cup the heft of your breasts for him. He makes an animal noise at the display. “That’s it. Are they sore, precious? A little harder – there.”

Tears spring to your eyes as you obey his command, squeezing the supple flesh, pulling at the teats just as your two babes will when they nurse from your body to nourish their own. They have been hypersensitive as of late, and you are unsure if your own touch is painful or pleasurable. Regardless, the sheer strength of it is enough to reignite the familiar ember signalling a new climax.

“Daemon,” you grouse plaintively, making a show of the ache and wiggling down into his thrusts to feel the shudder ripple up your spine when he drives to the end of you. You are rewarded with a quickening of pace and the sound of his panting breaths as he exerts himself above you, flushed and sweating and entirely consumed by the welcoming clutch of your cunt. “Can I pe–peak, please?”

“So well-behaved,” he huffs with a chuckle, grinning wickedly as he watches a lone trail of liquid trek from your eye down your temple and disappear into your hairline. “I do love when you cry for me.”

You nod furiously at his words, blinking more stray droplets from your lashes and eagerly spreading your thighs as far apart as you can, yelping as the angle changes. Your uncle hisses at the sight, a hand disappearing below the protrusion of your middle – you cry out as he introduces his thumb to your bud, drawing back the hood and rubbing up in inescapable motions.

“I suppose you’ve earned it. Go on, then,” he goads. “Come.”

As the obedient wife you are, you heed his wish. This time, there is little that is gentle about the way your walls constrict on him, making the rapid rock of his cock a near unbearable intrusion. The air flees your lungs and your limbs lock in place as the bliss washes over you, soundless in spite of the force of it.

“Thank you, thank you,” you choke out when you are able to catch your breath again, your grip upon your breasts becoming less of a cultivated show and more a necessity that keeps them from bobbing about wildly. He ruts into you with jerky, uneven slaps, too fast and too hard for you to truly enjoy. You endure it – you have had your fill, and now it is his turn.

“Are you going to spill in me, kepus?” you ask, falsetto pitch and airy tone, using what little leverage you have to push your lower body up into his urgent offensive. The burn in your thighs is immediate, but you will not need to hold this position for long. “I want you to, please, please–”

“Yes,” he growls, deep and dark, face contorted into something resembling pain and eyes closing in concentration, seemingly heedless of the spiel tumbling from his mouth. “I’ll come in this cunt, keep you in this bed fat with my heirs and leaking my seed, lick it out of you later–”

“What if I cannot wait ‘til later, kepus?” you whine, lip curling with feigned petulance, girlish and stubborn and exactly to his liking. He gasps like he is winded by the suggestion of it, juddering strokes that begin to hurt, but you love it. You love how undone you can make him with such simple words, and you prepare yourself to deal the finishing blow. “Maybe you should clean me up straight away,” you continue coquettishly, nails digging into your skin to distract from the ache of him. “Taste us together and kiss me so I can, too–”

“Fuck,” he moans, stilling inside, fully in your core, and you can feel the spasms of his manhood pumping spend hot and thick into the very depths of you. His iron grip eases into inattentive pats across your skin as his stare refocuses on you, a look of such sheer relief on his face that you are momentarily overcome by the urge to laugh. Your poor uncle. “Gods, this cunt.”

Daemon hunches over you briefly, riding out the remainder of his release before withdrawing, catching sticky along your walls as he tugs away. Your attention wavers when he rummages around out of sight for a cloth with which to wipe his shaft free of your mingled fluids, and you can hear the tell-tale signs of breeches being yanked back up and laces being knotted. Your legs close once more, an ingrained habit from the weeks and months of wishing your womb would do its work and catch your uncle’s seed, and you shift uncomfortably at the unwelcome intrusion of reality into this sacred space.

The tea.

“Need help up, sweetling?”

You banish the disturbance from your mind. Taking his proffered hand, you allow your amused husband to assist you in sitting upright, again availing yourself of his geniality to lumber your way back into the arrangement he had facilitated you in achieving when you had gone to sleep the night previous. With your body fully covered and reclined, you flop on your side with an exhausted puff, already tired from your romp and the effort of moving about with such an unwieldy figure. A dip in the mattress heralds his settling behind you, arm banding over your waist and palm coming to rest over your belly.

“The babes give you any rest?” He punctuates this enquiry with an absent press of lips to your neck, breath humid upon your flesh.

“Hm,” you mumble noncommittally, distracted by the pulsating movements emanating through your middle. “I slept well enough – but you have gone and woken them.” You do not even try to conceal the complaint in your voice.

He laughs against your shoulder, hand tracking the activity under your skin. They are taking tumbling practice today, you think with some measure of vexation, though the exhilarated fascination remains ever near. You cannot help but to exult in the signs that your children are alive, that they are well, despite – No.

You will not think upon that night.

It is unhealthy to repress something of such magnitude. While you know this, you simply cannot indulge the thought of casting your memory back to the weight of that man bearing down toward your belly, the stink of his rotting breath and the sight of watery blue eyes wild on you, the warm stickiness of Miriam’s blood seeping from her cooling body through your sweat-soaked gown –

No. You shall not. The tears have come and gone, and you have pandered to the urge to lay about in dazed silence for long enough.

“They’re lively little things, aren’t they?” Daemon exclaims in hushed tones, and the urge to cry flows and ebbs in unpredictable rhythm yet again at the sound of his quiet awe. Damn it all. You can even picture the expression he is sure to be wearing: eyes wide and dark, mouth parted with corners quirked, unblinking and trained steadfastly to the expanse of his babes as they wriggle and turn unknown within your womb. “Does it hurt?”

He sounds far too worried for such a simple query. Oh, Daemon. He might be asking about the babes’ movements, but you know what he really means.

Are you hurt? he wants to ask. Are you safe? Are they safe? If the horrors of your time anew in King’s Landing have made you weepy and disconsolate, they have made him compulsive and paranoid, wholly preoccupied with the task of ensuring that even the slightest impediment to your peaceful confinement is removed post-haste.

“No,” you reassure him. “It feels odd, but not painful. It… Oh, I cannot describe it right,” you say irritably, turning to look at him. He is as always absorbed by you, hanging onto your every word like a fanatic. You take his hand in yours and tap your fingers across his skin, mimicking as best you can the sensation from within. “Like this – but on the inside. It does not hurt; it is just there.”

“Hm,” he replies.

You grumble as he tips you to your back, shuffling gracelessly down your body and bracing himself above you with his arms. The lower half of his face burrows into your belly so that all you are able to see of him is his violet stare and pale lashes and lined forehead. He rucks up your nightwear once again to lay his mouth upon your skin, something you usually catch him doing when he believes you asleep. The tell-tale vibrations of words spoken softly into flesh fizzle from the point of contact.

“What are you muttering to them down there?” you ask suspiciously, doing your best to prevent the hilarity from showing in the curve of your lips. “They are too young to become vassals for your unseemly behaviour, uncle.”

“I’ll say what I like to my own children, little girl,” he answers arrogantly, brows waggling with mischief above the crest of your middle. You kick him lightly in the side, the laughter bursting unrestrained from your lungs. “There are some things that ought to be kept between a father and his daughters,” he continues, and you are sure he conceals a smile from beyond your view.

“If your sons take your guidance to heart, I shall not be dealing with the aftermath of whatever strife they decide to plague the Realm with. That is firmly in your hands,” you tell him archly, affecting a moue of superciliousness.

“If my daughters” – you squeal as he yanks you down by the thighs and parts them wide –“decide to follow in their kepa’s footsteps, you’re free to watch me teach them how to worm their way out of trouble.”

“Like you have?” Your voice is breathy, cracked at the end when you feel his fingers play with the seed that leaks from your raw opening, tacky and warm and squelching with each searching prod. “How many times have you been exiled again? Two? Three?”

You gasp as his hand strikes your mound, catching on your bud and your folds, hard enough to shock but not to cause injury. The feeling ripples out from its epicentre, slithering through your veins and lighting the tinder of desire anew, and you sigh shakily as the sting sizzles along your skin.

“Don’t be naughty,” he chides, breath travelling down, down, down along your bared flesh. “Impertinent brats don’t get rewarded.”

“Sorry, kepus. I’ll behave, I promise,” is your automatic counter, and you silently bemoan how quickly he is able to redirect your changeable mood to one of lust. You want to sleep.

“Good.” Daemon presses a wet kiss to the top of your womanhood, tingling with the blood raised from his slap. It is a sure sample of what is to come. “Now – I do believe you begged me to lick this little cunt clean before I left. I’d best give my wife what she wants, hm?”

Sleep can wait. You do so enjoy the outcome of his efforts, after all.

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doctorcrowleywho · 1 year

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December 7. Snowball fight (11th Doctor x reader)

25 Days of Ficmas - Day 7

Snowball Fight (11th Doctor x reader)

Word count - 1609

Warnings - None just tons of fluff

Pairing(s) - 11th doctor x Gn! Reader

Summary - A trip home leads to a impromptu snowball fight

It was time to go home, not permanently. Like you would never give up traveling around in the TARDIS with the Doctor. There was no way, not even if River Song asked for your hand in marriage (which would probably be the hardest thing ever to turn down). But you needed just a quick trip home to see your family and stock up on a few human things. You know, the usual.

However, you really wanted to make sure you visited during this time of year because of the snow (also because of your family). When the holiday season rolled around back home it always brought the most beautiful white Christmas’ you’ve ever seen in your entire life. Sometimes you wondered if your time-traveling friend pulled a few strings in your childhood and made it snow for you every Christmas. He’d probably also tell you he was Santa while he was at it.

But, once you told the Doctor that you wanted to go home, you could have sworn you accidentally told him you were dying and there was no cure. He hung his head in defeat as you watched him sulk around the TARDIS console pulling nobs and switching dials. It was almost like he was putting on a grand dramatic show for you about how sad he was that you were going to leave, which by the way wasn’t true.

You made a mental note to give him a nice smack up the back of his head later.

“I guess there’s nothing I can really say, huh?” he sighed making you roll your eyes avoiding his sad puppy dog eyes. Gods, was he really milking this? “Well Y/N we had the very best of times I just wish it was longer. It feels like just yesterday you saved me from that cybermen attack-”

“Doctor I-” you felt like you had to interject. There was no way you were going to let him ramble on like this for ages, not when you had the winter snow to look forward to.

“Not now Y/N I’m making a speech.” he placed a finger to your lips as his eyes frantically looked anywhere but at you. It was like he was trying to find the right words, which was so very unlike your Doctor. Usually, you weren’t able to shut him up.

“Doctor I’m just going home for a quick visit.” you finally interrupted him grabbing his face in both of your hands so he was forced to look at you.

As the realization slowly hit him his mouth dropped open a little bit as his finger dropped from your lips. “And you’re coming back afterward right?” he asked raising both eyebrows anticipating a response…hopefully a good one.

“Yes! It was like I was trying to tell you before-” you started before he cut you off again a giant smile growing on his face.

“Right, perfect, yes!” he adjusted his bow tie “Of course, I knew that I’m kind of offended you thought I didn’t, but don’t worry I’ll let it slide just this once.” he poked you right on the nose causing your face to scrunch up. Then he was off fiddling with the TARDIS like a child on Christmas morning.

All the while, you continued to stare at him in utter amazement. So, this was the man your heart decided to chase after. As odd as the whole situation felt, it also felt so incredibly right. You never felt like you really belonged down on earth, even if that did sound a bit silly it was absolutely true. People down there would always overlook you no matter how hard you tried, it was honestly getting very discouraging.

Then the cybermen came, and you were terrified that this was how your life was going to end. You wondered if your first real exciting moment would also be your last. However, out of the corner of your eye, you saw a strange man in a bow tie trying his best to fight off the men in metal. For a half second, you were mystified and maybe even a little impressed.

You don’t know what really took over you because before you could even realize what was going on you were right by his side helping him the best you could. “I’m the Doctor by the way, lovely to meet you.” he gave you a quick smile before turning back to the task at hand.

To this day you still thought the Doctor was a weird name, but you got used to it very quickly. He was your cosmic mystery, one you’d happily keep trying to solve till the very end.

“And we’re here!” he said cheerfully clapping his hands like the people who clap once an airplane lands. Lord this man will be the death of you for sure. “Home sweet home!” he beamed wrapping an arm around you and hugging you tightly.

You couldn’t help yourself, you grabbed your coat and ran out of the TARDIS while still tugging it on. A soft blissful laugh left your lips as you observed your surroundings. It was a beautiful winter wonderland for as long as the eye could see. At that moment you let yourself be truly grounded. Closing your eyes you took in the smell of the beautiful pine trees and felt to refreshing cold air as the wind blew passed you.

The Doctor trailed behind you, watching you in absolute adoration. Propping himself against the door of the TARDIS a soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He watched you spin and twirl and even try to catch a few snowflakes on your tongue. He was in deep trouble, he felt it in his hearts. For he was madly in love with you, his free-spirited companion.

However, the Doctor being who he is couldn’t sit still for long, so naturally, he got an idea. Sneakily, he bent down and packed a small snowball into his hands. He tried his best to ignore how cold the snow was. When it was the perfect snowball he threw it right at your shoulder causing you to yelp in surprise.

The force of the snowball snapped you out of your own little world making you jump. Your eyes grew wide as you turned on your heel. Shooting an icy cold glare right in the Doctor’s direction. “Oi was that you?” you called out waving a finger at him.

“Who me? Why I’d never!” he dramatically gasped chucking one right at your chest “oopsie daisies” he giggled, yes that’s right literally giggled, as he ran around the TARDIS.

“Oh, it’s so on!” You yelled collecting as much ammo as you could. You weren’t typically a competitive person, except when it came to silly little things like snowball fights. Then all cards were on the table, and you’d be damned if you didn’t defeat the Doctor in this snowy battle.

All hell broke loose as you two threw countless snowballs at each other. Grins plastered all over your faces as the battle grew mighty intense. Quickly, you put together a big one planning on sneaking up behind the Doctor. You spotted him, refreshing his stockpile in front of the TARDIS, and realized it was the perfect time to attack.

Slowly, you crept up behind him trying your very best not to laugh. Which, would give away your entire plan. Then, you struck viciously crashing the entire massive snowball all over his head causing him to yell out. “OI, YOU'RE IN TROUBLE NOW!”

Your eyes widened as you realized what you’d done, and you booked it. A symphony of giggles and cheers could be heard between the two of you as you chased each other round and round. This was exactly why you fell in love with the Doctor because even if he was a big scary time lord he was still himself.

Suddenly, you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist and you crashed to the ground falling on top of the Doctor. Your eyes blinked into his hazel ones as you both tried to catch your breath. You forgot just how utterly beautiful he was up close. All the little details that came together to make the Doctor, your Doctor. It was enough to make your heart swell with that wonderful kind of feeling.

“Y/N did we just fall for each other?” he asked softly taking his chances, even though he was only ever good at being awkward. A relieved smile rose to his lips as he heard your giggle once more.

“You know what Doctor I think we did, funny how things work like that,” you said brushing a few wet pieces of hair away from his eyes. If you could save this moment in time forever you could, but even the Doctor knew you couldn’t do that. Time was precious and you were so lucky you had this time together now.

There was a moment when the both of you leaned in and you thought for a couple of seconds that he may even kiss you. But, something rang off in the Doctor’s head and he decided against it for now. So, instead, he helped you off the ground and started dusting all the snow off of you he could. Another gentle moment passed when he reached up and dusted off your hair.

“Right, off to see your family, come along Y/N.” he said giving that good old bow tie one last fix. Confidently he grabbed your hand and pulled you away taking your heart right along with him.

#doctor who #eleventh doctor #11th doctor #eleventh doctor x reader #11th doctor x reader #11th doctor x you #doctor who x reader #doctor who fanfiction #doctor who fandom #matt smith #matt smith x reader #matt smith fanfiction #tardis #christmas #25 days of christmas #merry christmas #25 days of ficmas #happy holidays

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shuichiakainx · 6 days

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Matt in New York🗽

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bi-bard · 1 year

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Clever Boy - Eleventh Doctor Imagine [Doctor Who]

Title: Clever Boy

Pairing: Eleventh Doctor X Reader

Word Count: 6,449 words

Warning(s): major character death, canon-typical violence, mention of past trauma

Summary: [Season 7, Episode 1] The Doctor and (Y/n) are reunited with Amy and Rory when all of them find themselves in the custody of the Daleks with an impossible task before them.

Author's Note: Wouldn't be one of my OCs if I didn't randomly jump around the timeline a lot. If there's a season that you want to see next, let me know and I'll see what I can do!

MORE OF THIS OC HERE!

-----------------------

I warned the Doctor about going to meet the women who wanted to save her daughter.

After all that we went through, it just seemed a little too perfect. Someone being able to send him a message and begging for help just after we avoid true death? I had trouble trusting it.

But he wanted to talk to her. He thought that he needed to.

I went with him for the sake of safety.

We met her on Skaro. The original planet of the Daleks.

She told us the story of Hannah. Her daughter who had been taken away to a Dalek prison camp. People had told her that we could help.

The Doctor noticed the same things that I did. The meeting place, how much she seemed to know about us, and the fact that she had left her daughter behind in the first place.

Mothers don't do that if they want to save or protect their child. They would rather burn the planet around them to the ground than be separated from them. At least, that's what I had learned from Amy.

Once the Doctor started asking too many questions, the woman was forced to reveal herself.

She hadn't escaped anything. She had merely been transformed.

Once the Doctor had been incapacitated, I went to take off running. Another person was already there and before I could truly make any progress, I was lying on the ground next to the Doctor.

When I came to, we were both in a cell.

"Good, you're awake!"

The Doctor pulled me off the floor. I blinked a few times, trying to get rid of whatever tiredness was still clouding my thoughts.

"How are you feeling," he asked.

"Angry and tired," I muttered.

"That's the spirit," he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

The doors slid open as he pulled away. Two Daleks rolled in.

"You will come with us," one of them instructed.

"Where are we going," I asked, not moving from my spot.

"The Doctor and (Y/n) will be reunited with their companions."

I felt a strong hit of fear strike my chest. They had gotten Rory and Amy too. This was the worst-case scenario.

"Move," the Dalek instructed again.

We were led down the hall. One Dalek was leaning in front of us, the other was behind us.

We made it to another cell. Amy and Rory were waiting for us just inside.

As soon as we were all inside, a hatch in the ceiling came undone and the platform we were standing on began to raise itself up.

A room. A circular room full of enough Daleks to fill up a few dozen lecture halls. Far more than they would need to take over a multitude of planets.

"Please, tell me this isn't what I think it is," I spoke to the Doctor quietly.

"What is it," Amy asked. "Spaceship, right?"

"Not just a spaceship," he explained. "The Parliament of the Daleks."

I closed my eyes for a moment. Some part of me wanted to believe that this was all some twisted dream. Another part of me knew very well that it wasn't, but facing the reality around us was too terrifying to contemplate.

We had just escaped death to be handed a death sentence.

I only opened my eyes because I heard the Doctor start telling them to take their shot. I was ready to slap him.

"Save us," the emperor spoke up.

"Excuse me?" I admittedly didn't think much before I snapped back at the creature.

"You will save the Daleks."

I scoffed. Another decision that I didn't think through properly.

The room began chanting at all of us. Just repeating the same three words over and over. Save the Daleks.

As the voices died down, The Doctor started pacing.

After a little while, I heard Amy and Rory mumbling to each other. I tried to pay it no mind, but it was difficult when the tension between them was more suffocating than the fear of being surrounded by Daleks.

I didn't mind the muttering until it turned to me.

"And (Y/n) is constantly glancing at us because they want to help us from whatever is wrong with us," Amy whispered. "'Oh no, Amy and Rory are clearly not alright, how are we going to fix that?'"

"Get better at hiding the tension if you don't want me worrying about you," I said bluntly.

She looked down for a moment.

"We have arrived," one of the Daleks announced.

"Arrived where," the Doctor asked.

"Doctor," the emperor said.

"The Prime Minister will speak with you now," the woman from our original meeting spoke up, motioning over to him.

The Doctor didn't move for a minute. When he did, he didn't turn to face their emperor- sorry- their Prime Minister. He moved over to me.

The Doctor stepped closer to me, taking my hand in his as he mumbled into my ear, "We don't have to do this, We could run-"

"Yes, we do," I cut the Doctor off as I looked at him. "They won't let us walk out of here if we don't."

I saw the sad look cross his eyes.

"I don't care if I die," I whispered. "But I will not be the reason that you or Amy or Rory die. I just won't."

He took a deep breath before kissing the side of my head and stepping back. He turned back to the Prime Minister.

He stopped by the woman. "Do you remember who you were before they emptied you out and turned you into their puppet?"

"My memories are only activated if they are required to facilitate deep cover or disguise."

"Look at that," I replied sarcastically. "We were important enough to switch the memories back on."

The Doctor continued approaching the Prime Minister. I took a few steps closer behind him. Quiet support more than anything else.

"What do you know of the Dalek asylum," the creature asked.

"According to legend, you have a dumping ground," he replied. "A planet where you lock up all the Daleks that go wrong. The battle-scarred, the insane, the ones even you can't control. Which never made any sense to me."

"Why not?"

"Because you'd just kill them."

"It is offensive to us to extinguish such divine hatred."

That statement made me sick to my stomach. I interrupted the Doctor, "Offensive?"

"Does it surprise you to know that Daleks have a concept of beauty?"

"No," I shook my head. "I am just surprised that after so long you can still find ways to be so disgusting. Hatred so beautiful that you have to keep hurt, scared creatures in a cage like a personal zoo? Such a fixation on the emotion that it makes you go against your entire purpose. Kill what's different."

The Doctor started walking down the ramp towards me.

"Perhaps that is why we could never kill either of you," the Prime Minister stated.

I was ready to stand and argue, but I didn't get the chance before a hole in the middle of the floor opened. We both walked over to it, looking down at the planet just underneath it.

"The asylum occupies the entire planet," the woman- Darla- explained. "Right to the core."

"How many Daleks are in there," the Doctor asked.

"A count has not been made," she answered. "Millions, certainly."

I was next to speak up, "All still alive?"

"It has to be assumed. The asylum is fully automated. Supervision is not required."

"Armed?" Amy looked over.

"A Dalek is always armed."

"What color?"

We all looked at Rory as the question came out of his mouth.

"Sorry, there weren't any good questions left."

"There's a signal being received from the very heart of the asylum," Darla explained. Just as she did, music began playing over the speaker.

"What is the noise," a Dalek yelled. "Explain! Explain!"

"It's me," the Doctor replied.

"Oh God," I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"Sorry, what?" Rory turned to us.

"I'm playing the triangle," the Doctor grinned, mimicking his motion.

"And hasn't one let me forget that fun fact," I added.

"Carmen," the Doctor pulled the sonic screwdriver out of his jacket and scanned the console that the Dalek had been using. "Lovely show."

I follow him back up the ramp. "Please tell me you're-"

"Tracking back the signal so we can talk to them," he finished my sentence for me.

"Dibs!" I shoved him out of the way. "Hello? Hello... Carmen?"

"Creative."

"Shut up," I muttered. "Hello! Come in, come in. Someone there?"

"Do you read me?" a voice rang out.

"Loud and clear," I replied, smiling properly for the first time since the trip had started. "Identify yourself and report your status."

"Hello," the voice said.

"Hello," I repeated.

"Are you real? Properly real?"

"Actually, properly real. Living, breathing, and bleeding if I am not careful."

"Oswin Oswald," she introduced. "Junior Entertainment Manager, Starship Alaska. Current status: crashed and shipwrecked somewhere... not nice. Been here a year, rest of the crew missing, provision's good but keen to move on."

"A year," I asked. "Are you okay? Under attack?"

"Some local life forms. Been keeping them out."

I looked at the Doctor, scared and confused by the story. "Know what they are?"

"I know a Dalek when I hear one, yeah," she replied.

"What have you been doing all alone, for a year? Against the Daleks?"

"Making soufflés."

I let out an amused huff. "soufflés."

"Where do you get the milk?" the Doctor butted in. I furrowed my eyebrows. It was a good question.

"This conversation is irrelevant." The Dalek did not agree with me. It shut off the signal.

"No, it isn't," the Doctor snapped back.

"Someone crashed into your asylum, meaning there's a big hole in whatever security you had," I joined in. "One thing gets in, millions can get out."

"Even you don't want that," the Doctor added.

"The asylum must be cleansed," the Dalek spoke.

"Then, why is it still here," the Doctor asked. "You have enough firepower to blast it out of the sky."

"They can't," I concluded. "The security that they put on the planet won't allow it. That's why we're here."

"The asylum's forcefield is impenetrable," Darla stepped forward. "And can only be turned off from the inside."

The Doctor went walking down the ramp again. "A small task force could sneak in. Send a couple of Daleks."

He paused halfway down the ramp, noting the silence in the room.

"Oh," he mumbled. "That's good. They're too scared to go down there. What do the Daleks do when they're too scared."

To put it very simply, they were going to launch all of us into a planet. They gave us these bracelets that fended off the nanocloud, which would turn everything that wasn't Dalek into... Dalek. Once we made it down, it was our job to figure out how to shut off the forcefield so they could destroy it.

We were led back to the opening in the floor, where a gravity beam was waiting for us. I reached over and grabbed the Doctor's hand. He rubbed a circle into the skin of my hand with his thumb.

"Ready," I asked.

"Are we ever," he grumbled back to me.

I was hoping to get a chance to jump into the gravity beam on my own. We didn't. Instead, we were all pushed into it.

My next memory was lying in the snow. I groaned as I pushed myself up. I looked around at my surroundings. There was nothing there that I could make any sense of.

I jumped when music started playing next to me. I looked down at an eyestalk looking at me. I moved to lay on my stomach in front of it.

"Oswin?" I called.

"Sorry!" she replied. "I pressed the wrong switch. You okay?"

"I just got launched at a planet, but I could be worse," I shrugged. "How are you doing that? This is Dalek technology."

"It's very easy to hack."

"Respectfully, no, it really isn't. Where are you?"

"Somewhere underground... I think. Ship broke up when it hit. You coming to get me?"

"(Y/n)!"

I jumped at the sound of the Doctor's voice. The camera disappeared as soon as he spoke.

"Dammit," I mumbled, pushing myself to stand up.

"Who are you talking to?"

"Oswin," I replied.

"Soufflé girl?"

"She has a name."

"Doctor!" Amy came running at us from the other side of a hill.

The Doctor helped steady her.

"Where's Rory," he asked.

"There was another beam," the man pointed vaguely behind us all. He continued following us.

We found a hole in the ground. It was deep enough that we couldn't see the bottom.

The man from earlier led us to a hatch that he had been trying to get into. He explained that his team had come down two days ago and that there were twelve other escape pods.

"Alaska," Amy read out, looking down at the name printed on the ship. "That's the same as Soufflé Girl."

"Two days," I asked, looking at the man. He nodded before opening the hatch. "It can't be the same as her. She's been here a year."

We all followed him down.

"There should be some climbing rope long enough for that hole," he explained.

I stepped around one of the seats when I spotted a hood. I leaned down only to be met with a skeleton sitting in the seat. Can't be merely two days old. It couldn't have been.

"Won't you introduce us to your crew," the Doctor asked. I grabbed his arm and stepped as close as possible. "What?"

"They're dead," I mumbled. "That... That one is a skeleton. They can't be two days old."

"Guys, this is the Doctor, Amy, and (Y/n)," the man introduced us. Nothing. I stepped a little further back from the seats. "Guys?"

The Doctor stepped forward, tapping the one I had seen on the shoulder. Its head rolled back, revealing the skeleton. The Doctor checked all of them. With the sonic screwdriver for some reason... they were skeletons, he didn't need to use the screwdriver. They were all dead.

"That's not possible," the man argued. "I just spoke to them. Two hours ago. We were doing engine repairs."

"I'm sorry, but there was no way that's possible. They've been dead a long time."

"Of course," he muttered. "Stupid me. I died outside. The cold preserved my body."

I stepped closer to the ladder, hoping to be ready to run from the man.

Then, an eyestalk started to protrude out of his forehead. "I forgot about dying."

The Doctor grabbed the fire extinguisher off the wall and sprayed it at the man. Amy hit the button next to the door, only shutting it once the man was secured on the other side.

"How'd he get all... Daleked," Amy asked.

"He didn't have a bracelet," I explained. "Nanocloud."

"Microorganisms that automatically process any organic matter, dead or alive, into a Dalek puppet."

"Anything that attacks the asylum immediately becomes on-site security. We've seen the interesting abilities of nano-tech."

"Living or dead?" Amy said. I paused, eyes going wide as I looked around the room.

"The wristbands protect us," the Doctor continued rambling. "The only thing keeping us from going completely-"

"Doctor, shut up," she cut him off. "Living or dead?"

"Yes, exactly, living or..."

The bones of the skeletons started cracking as the creatures stood up. The Doctor took off over the tops of the chairs once he noticed. I mostly followed his lead.

We only had true trouble once one of the creatures had caught Amy's wrist. The door slamming shut was enough to get the thing to let go.

The two of them leaned against the door while I stood across from them.

"Unauthorized personnel may not enter the cockpit," a familiar voice rang out over the intercom in the room.

"Oswin!" I jumped a bit. "I lost you back there, you alright?"

"I'm fine, just lost the signal."

The Doctor moved around me, taking a seat at the console, where a camera was pointed at us.

"Oi, Mr. Grumpy, don't get too close," she said. "Ooo, bad combo. No sense of humor and that chin."

I bit the inside to keep from laughing, even though I heard Amy chuckle behind me.

"What is wrong with my chin," the Doctor asked. He looked over at me.

"Nothing," I promised.

"Careful, don't poke their eye out."

I couldn't stop the laugh that came out of my mouth.

"(Y/n)," he whined.

"Sorry, sorry," I held my hands up. "I think your chin is... very handsome."

"I'm scanning you," Oswin informed us. "You're in another of the escape pods from the Alaska. It seems your power's on."

"How are you hacking into everything," I asked. "That should be impossible."

"Long story," she said simply. "There a word for total screaming genius that sounds modest and a tiny bit sexy?"

I chuckled. "Not that I know off the top of my head, sorry."

"What's your name again?"

"(Y/n)."

"That'll work."

I let out a stunned scoff. "Oswin!"

"What?!"

"I am in a very committed relationship," I explained.

"With the chiny one?"

I had to hold back the laugh that wanted to escape.

"Is it him?"

"Yeah, it's him," I replied.

"Aw, cute," she gushed. "I was hoping it was the redhead."

I shook my head and rolled my eyes. I saw the Doctor's frown and leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek. He let a small grin cross his lips.

There was a beep on her hand. "Check the floor. I'm picking up a breach at floor level. There could be a way out. See you later!"

There had been a hatch on the floor. There was a rope going down into wherever it led. Someone else's escape route.

"This must go straight down to the asylum," the Doctor muttered as he unlocked the hatch.

"Where Rory is," Amy replied.

"Speaking of Rory," I started. "Anything you wanna talk about?"

"Are we going to do this now," she asked.

"What happened?" I countered.

"Just stuff, you know. We split up. What can you do?"

"What can I do," the Doctor mumbled, looking at her.

"Nothing," she explained. "it's not one of those things that you can fix like your bow tie."

The Doctor looked down again.

"Oh, don't give me those big, wet eyes, raggedy man. It's life. Just life. That thing that goes on when you two aren't around. We don't all get to end up traveling all of time and space with our true loves."

I felt a sting of guilt in my chest. I had always known that the Doctor and I were the exception. But Rory and Amy were each other's person. They were stuck together by the universe. They couldn't get away from each other if they tried.

I had grown to see them as an example of sorts.

I looked back at Amy. Maybe she saw us the same way.

There was a rope ladder going all the way to the bottom.

"Someone else got out this way," Amy noted.

"Let's go and find them," the Doctor muttered. He ran to the camera by the door.

They were holding up one of the bracelets. Amy's bracelet.

"Amy," the Doctor whispered.

"What's going to happen to me," she asked. "Seriously? Tell me. What?"

The Doctor didn't reply. Instead, he ran off to the ladder, leading the way down. I let Amy go before me. I followed right behind them, pulling it shut behind me.

"So, what's going to happen to me," she pushed again. "And don't lie. Because I know when you're lying to me and I will definitely fall on you."

"The air all around is full of micro-machines," the Doctor explained. I was stunned that he answered at all. "Robots the size of molecules. Nanogenes. Now that you're unprotected, you're being rebuilt."

By that point, we had made it to the bottom. Granted, by that point, we had already had this conversation at least four times.

"So what happens? I get one of those things sticking out of my head?" she continued.

"Physical changes come later," the Doctor grabbed her hand, pulling her along with us.

"What comes first? How does it start?"

"Your mind. Your feelings, your memories. And I'm sorry but it's already started."

"How do you know?"

"This is the fourth time we've had this conversation."

"I'm scared now."

"Hang onto that," I told her. "Scared isn't Dalek. Hold onto anything that isn't Dalek."

The door opened in front of us.

There was a smell coming from the room.

"What's that," Amy asked.

The Doctor closed the door again. "Stay right there. Don't open this door."

"Oswin," I yelled. "Can you hear me?"

"Hello (Y/n) and the Chin, I have visual on you," she replied. "(Y/n) and the Chin. You two could start a band."

"Why exactly don't we have a visual on you," the Doctor spoke up. "Why can't I ever see you?"

"Limited power, bad hair, take your pick," she explained. "There's a door to your left. Open it."

I looked to my left and went to the door. "Alright."

The door slid open to reveal a small screen.

"I'm going to send you a map to that screen," she explained.

I nodded and stepped inside. "Ready when you are, Oswin."

"Oh, your friend is safe. I can get you to him."

"You found Rory," I asked.

"Yup," she confirmed. "Well, I call him Nina. Personal thing."

I furrowed my eyebrows for a moment before focusing on the screen again.

I watched as she typed away. I followed the map that she was using to guide us. I heard the door open.

"How many Daleks are right ahead of us," I asked.

"Ten, twenty," she estimated. "Some are catatonic, but they do have firepower."

"Doctor," I tried to whisper-shout at him. "Where's Amy?"

He turned around and ran into the room that we had been avoiding earlier. She was standing in the middle.

"How do we get past them," I turned back to Oswin.

The Doctor and Amy shoved their way into the closet with me.

"Okay then," I gasped as I was shoved into the wall.

The sounds just outside the door powered down. The two of them stepped out first and I awkwardly followed.

"It's damaged," the Doctor said.

"Okay, but what do we do," Amy asked.

"Identify me," he turned to the Dalek. "Access your files. Come on."

"You are the Predator," the Dalek spoke.

"Access your standing orders concerning the Predator."

"The Predator must be destroyed!"

"And how are you going to do that? the Doctor stepped forward. "A Dalek without a gun? You're a tricycle with a roof. How are you going to destroy me?"

"Self-destruct initiated," the Dalek shouted.

"What's it doing," Amy asked.

"Destroying the Predator," I explained.

The Doctor lifted the Dalek's hood.

"Self-destruct cannot be countermanded," the Dalek said.

"I wasn't looking for countermand," the Doctor replied. "I'm looking for reverse."

The Dalek proceeded to roll backwards into the large room. It exploded, taking out the other Daleks with it.

We had all been thrown backward.

I shoved myself off the floor. The Doctor picked up a now unconscious Amy and followed me. Rory was standing on the other side of the room.

"Where have you been," I asked.

"Oswin put me in a- a room," Rory pointed behind him. "Is Amy alright?"

"Just unconscious," I explained. "Where's the room?"

He led us into some other room off to the side. The Doctor placed Amy down and we all waited for her to wake up. While we did, the Doctor explained the situation of the stolen bracelet.

"Will the sleeping help her," Rory asked. "Slow down the process?"

"You'd better hope so," Oswin's voice filled the room. "Because pretty soon, she's going to try and kill you."

Amy woke up a moment later, groaning as she did, "Ow."

"Hey," the Doctor said. "Still with us?"

"Amy, it's me," Rory grinned at her. "Do you remember me?"

She reached up and slapped him as soon as the words left his mouth.

"I'd take that as a yes," I advised.

"Same old Amy," the Docter mumbled.

"Do you know how you make someone into a Dalek," Oswin asked. She was quieter now. Like she was scared. "Subtract love, add anger. Doesn't she seem a bit too angry to you?"

"Well, somebody's never been to Scotland," Amy replied, pushing herself up.

"Oswin," I said. "How are you... okay? Why hasn't the nanocloud converted you?"

"I mentioned the genius thing, yeah?" she explained. "Shielded in here."

"Clever of you," I muttered, trying to ignore the nervousness in my stomach. Hope. If I needed one thing right now, it was hope. "Now, the Daleks said that this place was fully automated. But it's a wreck."

"I've had nearly a year to mess with them and not a lot else to do."

"A junior entertainment manager hiding out in a wrecked ship, hacking the security systems of one of the most advanced warrior race the universe has ever seen," the Doctor spoke up as he was scurrying around the room. "But you know what gets me about you, Oswin? The soufflés."

"The soufflés," Amy asked.

"Where do you get milk for the soufflés?"

He turned to the rest of us.

"Seriously, is no one else wondering about that?"

I didn't want to admit that I had found it easier to ignore it. I merely looked down. Rory shut it down more bluntly than I had.

"So, Doctor," Oswin piped up. "I've been looking you up. And you, (Y/n). You're all over the database. Why do the Daleks call you the Predator? Why are you lot such a threat?"

"Not a predator, just a man with a plan," the Doctor replied.

"You've got a plan?"

"In no particular order," the Doctor explained, "we need to neutralize all the Daleks in the asylum, rescue Oswin from the wreckage, escape from the planet, and save Amy and Rory's marriage."

"Alright, I'm counting three lost causes, anyone else," Amy asked.

"Oswin, there's a Dalek ship in orbit," the Doctor said.

"Yeah, got it on the sensors," she replied.

"The asylum has a forcefield. The Daleks are waiting for me to shut it off. As soon as I do, they'll burn this whole world and us with it. So, my question for you is this, how fast can you drop the forcefield?"

"Pretty fast."

"Good. This is a teleport, am I correct?"

"Yeah. Internal use only."

"I can boost the power once the force field is down. And we can use it to beam us right off this planet," the Doctor explained, messing with the teleport.

"But you said that when the forcefield is down, the Daleks will blow us up," Rory pointed out.

"That's why we have to be quick," I spoke up.

"Fine, we'll be quick, but where do we beam to," Amy asked.

"The only place within range. The Dalek ship," the Doctor answered.

"They'd exterminate us on the spot," Amy said.

"We'd survive four seconds longer," Rory agreed.

"What's wrong with four seconds," the Doctor smirked. "You can do loads in four seconds."

"Oswin, how fast can you drop the forcefield?" I called.

"I can do it from here," she explained. "As soon as you come and get me."

"Why don't you drop the forcefield and come to us," I asked.

"There's enough power in that teleport for one go," she replied. "Why would you wait for me?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"No idea, never met you," she said. "I'm sending you a map so you can come and get me."

"(Y/n)," the Doctor grabbed my arm as I went to run over. I yanked my arm away.

"I'm going to do this," I told him bluntly. "Stay here. Keep them safe. If we don't make it in time, then I want you to go. Got it?"

He stared at me for a moment before letting out a sigh. "Make it back."

"I plan to," I smirked a bit before looking at the map. As I took off, I turned back to him. "I love you!"

"Love you too!" I heard him say behind me.

I stepped out into the hall.

I could hear banging and the sounds of Daleks screaming various threats and promises. They only got louder as I rounded the corner. I took a deep breath as I continued moving.

It was terrifying.

The closed walls, the sound of Daleks yelling. It was all so familiar. I could vividly see myself back in that little box that I had known for far too long. The practice scenarios where I would be faced with almost exactly this situation.

I tried to block out those memories. I had other things to focus on at the moment.

In a more relative sense, it had been going well. I hadn't been met with any loss Daleks and I was close to where I needed to be.

"Oswin," I said quietly. "I think I'm close."

"You are," she replied. "Less than twenty feet away. Which is the good news."

"And the bad?"

"You're about to pass through intensive care."

"Oh, great," I muttered, taking another deep breath.

The door slid open.

It was quiet. Daleks were lined up in cages, all dormant. The lights were off.

"Why are they here," I asked.

"Don't know. Survivors of particular wars. Spiridon, Kembel, Aridius, Vulcan, Exxilon. Ringing any bells."

I felt like the air was being forced out of my lungs. I was being strangled without anyone else around. My legs felt shaky as if my knees were prepared to give out at any given moment. And my head. My head hurt and was swirling with a thousand thoughts and memories.

And all I could was keep walking.

"Yeah," I answered, pausing to look at one of them. "These are the Daleks of the Time War."

I wanted to vomit.

"I was supposed to stop it. I couldn't."

I heard one of the Daleks coming to life behind me. "Savior."

"I'm sorry, what did it call you?"

"Nothing," I replied. "A name that I gave up a long, long time ago."

More Daleks started to wake up. I walked away, hoping to get out of the room as fast as possible.

"Oswin, there's a door but it won't open," I said. "They can't be far away now."

"Hold on. There's a release code, but I just need to find it. Is there anything happening out there?"

"No. But I don't like the silence any more than the yelling."

I heard chains rattling behind me. My breathing spiked again.

"Oswin!"

"Just a second!"

I heard the snapping of chains and my name being yelled again. I pressed my back to the door, putting as much distance between me and the approaching Daleks as I could. None of them seemed to have guns, so I should have been safe.

I closed my eyes, curling in on myself.

And then, it stopped.

All of it just froze.

"Oh, that is cool," I heard Oswin say as the Daleks turned around and moved away from me. "Tell me, I'm cool."

"What did you do," I asked.

"Hang on, I think I found the door thingy-"

"No, I need to know what you just did," I cut her off.

"The Daleks have a hive mind. Well, not really, it's more of a telepathic web."

"And?"

"I hacked into it," she explained. "Did a master delete on all the information connected with the Savior or (Y/n). Including information about the Doctor and your friends."

I let out a breathy laugh at the idea, tears filling my eyes. "You made them forget me."

"Good, huh," she asked. "And here comes the door."

"The Doctor has tried hacking into the path web before. He could never find a way to do it. I never even tried because of how much security they've got on it."

"Come and meet the woman who can."

The door slid open behind me. I scrambled inside but froze just in the doorway.

"Hey, you're right outside," the voices were mixing together. One Oswin's and the other was... Dalek. "Come on in."

"Oswin," I said. I took a step forward. "We have a problem."

"No, we don't," she replied. "Don't even say that. I joined the Alaska to see the universe and crashed on my first trip. You're here. You can take me to see it all. Properly."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Does it look real to you? That little place you're in right now?"

"It is real."

"It's a dream," I said. "Your mind constructed a safe place for you. Reality got too terrible. Too scary."

Her voice disappeared. All that was left was the Dalek's. "Where am I?"

"They did a complete transformation on you," I explained. "You are... a Dalek."

"No, no, I'm not a Dalek. I'm human."

I stepped forward, gently touching the shell of the creature. "You were when you crashed. But they found you... you climbed out of that pod we found."

"I'm human."

"Not anymore. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

There was no answer.

"You're a genius. They need genius."

There was still no response.

"I am so sorry," I started walking backward, closer to the door. "The Doctor asked earlier, but you never had to answer. Where did you get the milk? And the eggs? For the soufflés?"

"Eggs..." the Dalek voice shot fear into my stomach.

"I'm sorry."

"Ex... term... i... nate."

"Oswin," I muttered, stepping further back.

"Exterminate!"

"Oswin, wait!"

I scrambled back toward the door as the chains snapped off.

"You don't have to do this! They turned you but look at what you've done so far! You are still good! You are still you! Oswin, please!"

The Dalek stopped just in front of me.

"Oswin?"

"Why do they hate you," she asked. "You and that man. Why do they hate you so much?"

"I fought them. With him. More times than I can count."

"We have grown stronger out of fear."

"I know. That's... That's part of why we tried to step away. Stop giving them a reason to be stronger."

"Run."

"What," I asked. "What did you say?"

"Run," she repeated. "I've taken down the forcefield. The Daleks have begun their attack. Run.

I blinked at her a few times. I couldn't think of what to say.

"Oswin-"

"I am Oswin Oswald. I fought the Daleks and I am human. Remember me."

I grinned at her. "Yeah. I will. Thank you."

"Run," she urged me. I nodded and turned around as I heard something start crumbling around me. "Go save that clever boy of yours... and remember."

I have never thought about how difficult it is to run while you're crying. It hinders every system you had. Eyesight and breathing and your sense of direction gets shot by the emotion.

It was a miracle that I made it to the teleport in time. I jumped into the Doctor, hugging his as tight as I could.

"You alright?"

"We don't have time," I shrugged it off as I stepped back. There was another rumble. "We have to go."

He nodded. He hit a button on his control panel.

The Daleks were panicking when we got there. We ended up inside the TARDIS, but we could still hear them worrying about being under attack.

"You guys should have seen this coming," the Doctor yelled. "The thing about me and teleports is that I have really good aim. Pinpoint accurate, in fact. Or, to put it another way..."

"Please don't," I begged, going to grab his arm.

"Suckers!"

He stepped out of the TARDIS before I could stop him. I followed him out. If I couldn't stop him, then I could be next to him when he got himself killed.

The Dalek yelled at us, "Identify yourself! Identify!"

"What," the Doctor asked. "You know me."

"She did it," I whispered.

"Who did what," the Doctor turned to me.

"We should go," I said.

The Dalek yelled again, "Identify yourself!"

"The Doctor... The Oncoming Storm-"

"Titles are not meaningful in this context. Doctor who?"

I let out a sharp, relieved breath at the question. And then at how the question spread like wildfire.

"Come on," I grabbed the Doctor's hand.

He didn't question me any further, just following me back inside as the Daleks continued yelling.

Our next stop after that was Rory and Amy's home. They stepped out, waving to us as we went.

As the TARDIS took off again, it felt like the adrenaline finally wore off, I felt the tears coming back to my eyes.

I covered my mouth, leaning forward a bit and laying my other hand on the railing. The sobs started long before I ever had a chance to stop them.

"(Y/n)?- Hey," the Doctor walked over. He reached out and touched my arm.

It was as if that made me snap back to my senses. I quickly wrapped my arms around him, hiding my face in his shoulder.

"Hey, hey," he whispered, hugging me back. He ran his hand up and down my back a bit. "What happened?"

"I was too late," I muttered. I leaned back, wiping my eyes as I did. The Doctor's hands touched my sides. "I... I found her, but they... they had done a complete transformation."

"The milk and eggs," he mumbled.

"She... She wasn't even aware of it," I continued. "That's why she thought she had all of this stuff. She really thought that she was still human. That she was just waiting so I could save her."

The Doctor leaned over to kiss my forehead before pressing his against mine. "There was nothing you could have done."

I didn't respond for a moment.

"(Y/n)..."

"She did something," I said. "She got into their telepathic web and... she deleted all of the information about you and me."

"Really?"

"She saved our lives. And all I gave her was false hope."

The Doctor pulled me into another hug. "I'd like to think you saved hers as well. In some way."

I closed my eyes.

"A new way of thinking can save someone more than we'll ever know."

I would love to think that he was right.

And maybe he was, but it would be a very long time before I accepted that possibility.

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Text

Why not me? | Matt Smith

| pairing. matt smith x reader requested by. @shuichiakainx

You're currently in the pub with Matt's castmate, celebrating the success of the House of the Dragon premiere. You are there as his plus one, and also because he said he needed you there. He needed the support of his best friend.

Friend…

That’s what you are, a friend, and always be a friend.

Sitting at the bar station, you stir the beer bottle you are holding while watching everyone around you, more like you're watching him. You study the way he talks animatedly, his expressions, and everything else. And seeing him beam like there was no tomorrow for what he had accomplished today induces a tiny smile on your face.

As you continued to gaze longingly at him, you didn't notice a figure make its way beside you until it uttered something that caught you off guard.

"How long have you been in love with him?"

Like a deer caught in the headlights, you whirled around to see who the person was. And it's none other than Emma, Matt's co-star in the show. You tried to school your face as neutral as possible.

"...what do you mean?" you carefully ask, squinting your eyes at her.

"I know that look dear, you don't have to deny it," Emma giggled, waving her hand to the bartender to ask for a drink, who obediently do it. Grabbing the glass, she leans on the counter with her elbows before returning her gaze to you.

"You love him?" Emma asked rhetorically as she drank the shot glass.

You looked at her for a moment before turning away, muttering, "I don't know what you're talking about..."

Emma let out a short laugh, appearing amused at you, then her eyes softened as she noticed you staring at him wistfully again. "A piece of advice, my dear," she beckoned you, drawing your attention and fixing your gaze on her.

"Sometimes...knowing the answer, even if it hurts, is better than regret," Emma murmured, giving you a small smile, before turning and striding her way to other casts, leaving you with your thought to think about what she said.

You let out a weak smile before returning your attention to him. You know it's true, regarding what she said. You tried to confess so many times to him to the point you can't even recall how many now. But every time you tried to tell him, fear always held you back. You don't fear him not loving you back, you fear that everything will change. You know the moment you confess to him your relationship will never be the same again.

You will never be this close again...

You know he doesn't love you like that. And his past relationships are proof of that. Where you always watch his back while he's looking at her as if she's the most precious thing he ever got.

Thinking about it, you raise your bottle again to drink, forcing all the pain away with the bitter taste of the beer. While sipping, you noticed Matt staring at you. Locking your eyes at his chocolate ones, he gives you his famous charming smile that makes you swoon always. Then he raises his hand, signaling for you to come.

You smile at him as you place the empty beer on the countertop, then take out your wallet to get some cash and leave it there.

Even though you're practically intoxicated and already swaying and dizzy, you try your hardest to get to him without colliding with anyone else. After all, you do want to make a scene.

And when you're already feet away from him. There you saw him, smiling at another girl whose arms wrapped into his shoulder. Stopping you from your feet.

You keep staring at them as your heart begins to slowly break open on the inside. But what truly crush it is when you saw Matt look at her the way he always at look at his partners before,

with adoration…

You drew a deep breath and slowly backed away from them with your gaze still fixed on them... Then without a second, you spun away from them and hastily made your way to the exit.

As you pushed the door open, you swiftly exited the pub, your lungs heaving and tears welling up in your eyes. You don't even know why you're crying. You always see him with other girls so what changed, why it hurts? Is it due to alcohol? Many questions arise in your mind, yet none are answered.

With a ragged sob and pent-up tears flowing down your face, you let out a strangled howl. And it only worsened when a thunderstorm appeared and began to pour heavily, leaving you drenched from head to toe.

"Fuck!" you hoarsely exclaimed as you continued down the road, leaving no care whether you get wet or sick. You just need to get away. You just need to numb the pain, "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuc-"

"y/n!" you heard a voice call, stopping you in your tracks, and as you turned around, you saw him, the catalyst of your pain, Matt with an umbrella over his head, making his way inside you.

You immediately spun around and continue your way down the street, ignoring his call. You can't face right. You can't. You fucking can'-

"y/n, please, you'll get sick!" Matt pleaded.

You heard a frustrated groan from your back as a sequence of splashes of water became louder.

And before you can turn around to inspect it, a hand in your arm spun you around in a flash stopping you and startling you at the same time. Making you face Matt whose face is painted with frustration and scowl.

"What the fuck are you thinking, y/n? You'll get sick from what you're doing!" Matt growled, tightening his grip on your arm as you struggled to yank it off.

As you locked your gaze into his, you saw fury flash into his eyes, but it quickly softened as he saw your face drenched in tears, snot, and rain, and as he heard you groan from the grip, he immediately released it, as if afraid of hurting you further.

'The irony,' you thought to yourself.

Matt then raised the umbrella above you and took a deep breath before asking softly, "...what's wrong?"

You both looked at one other for a long time. With him looking at you for an answer, while you... You're thinking. thinking about whether you'll admit it now, what's causing this, why you're crying, your agony, your feelings...

But just always, you only mutter "nothing" leaving him in his umbrella without saying a word further and making your way to the station.

Dumbfounded, Matt look at your leaving figure. Hurt, confused, angry, he doesn't know anymore, but all he knows is that you're hurting… He does not want to see you in pain. So, without a second thought, he pushed all his feelings aside and pursued you relentlessly. All he wants is for you to no longer be in pain.

"y/n!" you heard him call you repeatedly, and as usual, you ignored them, focused on getting away from here, getting away from him because you felt your grip is already loosening...

But something stops you when you hear Matt angrily yell near you, "Why the fuck are you acting this way?!"

"Leave it be, Matt."

"What the fuck is the problem?!"

"I said to drop it—"

"Jesus Christ! Just give me a fucking answer-"

You felt something inside you snap, maybe because of the alcohol, as you turn around to him and look at his face "Do you really want an answer?!" cause Matt to stop in front of you.

"It's because I'm jealous! I'm fucking jealous, Matt!"

Glaring at him with all hatred, "I'm jealous 'cause I love you. I fucking love you! Are you happy now?!" slapping him in his chest, letting out an anguished cry.

"Matt... Matt, why is it so easy for you to notice everyone but me? I'm right in front of you but you never saw me even once." you hoarsely said, closing your eyes you let out another sound strangle wails of pain that came in sync with the sound of thunder and rain pouring harder "Why is it so easy for you to love anyone but me...? Why can't it just be me Matt? Why not me?!"

You fucking said it, you fucking said it... Then there was a long pause. A rough chuckle let out from you when you heard nothing coming from him, only the continuous thundering and rain hitting the ground. This is it, everything changes now, everything is over... All will become strangers and nothing more.

You spin around and rush away without even bothering to look at him. That's what you're always good at, running from everything, especially him.

As you keep on running further you didn't hear a thump of an umbrella thrown into the ground, and shoes splatting on the wet ground

And everything becomes too fast, as you felt a hand on your shoulder forcefully spinning you around, then two hands cupping your cheeks, and without even realizing lips landed on yours. The kiss was hard, ugly, and imperfect as filled with anger, pain, anguish, frustration... But even so, it's beautiful. The kiss is imperfectly beautiful.

As both of you felt having no breath left, you felt Matt reluctantly pull away from you, almost as if he didn't want to. And both your eyes lock, and you noticed a range of emotions lingering in his eyes. It spun with love, joy, fulfillment, and longing. You've never seen such emotion in his eyes before, and now it's staring right at you, causing you to feel overwhelmed.

And then he let out the three words that destroy all your expectations

"I love you," Matt whispered to you longingly, staring at your eyes, your nose, your face, studying you as if this is your last "I love you very very much y/n, and I'm sorry for everything,"

As he continues saying his sorry to you let out a heavy sob from his confession, you feel so happy, you never once thought he would even feel the same.

As you let out a chuckle you grab his right hand with both of your hands, making him pause from what he is saying and solely focus on you. Caressing it, you raise the back of his hand into your lips planting a longing kiss before returning his gaze to yours.

"Let's start a new," you muttered to him, smiling.

Looking at you dazed and stunned, all he did was nod and let out a happy grin.

A fresh start, a fresh start from everything else, and a new chapter in life. And this time, you'll be in the same chapter. Nobody but the two of you.

#matt smith #matt smith x reader #matt smith x you #matt smith fanfiction #matt smith fanfic #bit of angst #oneshot

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dae-daetargaryen · 1 year

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myy soul just slipped out of my body

source: jemsstargaryen, twt

#house of the dragon #daemon targaryen #matt smith #hotd #rhaenyra targaryen #hotd spoilers #caraxes #prince daemon targaryen #syrax #daemyra #daemon prince #daemon targaryen wallpaper #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen icons #matt smith fanfiction #matt smith edit #matt smith wallpaper #matt smith icons

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goldsainz · 2 years

Text

MASTERLIST.

A/N: this is based on a request @ateliefloresdaprimavera sent me!! so thank you sm for requesting, hope you all enjoy [gif cred: @colewald]

WORD COUNT: 1,1k

──────────

Y/N Smith and Matt Smith React To Your Tweets About “House of the Dragon”

You were excited to do an Interview with Matt after such a long time. You’d done a couple talk shows spontaneously over the years, but this was formally about a project you were both so enthralled by.

In a way, the mood was different. You were now a married couple who had two beautiful kids, and had been friends for over ten years. Time really flew by.

As the interview began you were sitting next to your husband, a bowl full of papers in front of you.

“I am Matt Smith,” You started, looking at Matt expectantly.

“And I’m Y/N Smith.” He continues, a victorious smile on both of your faces. The multiple failed takes definitely made its way into both of your minds.

“And we’re here to react to your tweets about ‘House of the Dragon’!” You both say in unison, high fiving each other as you let out a laugh.

━━━━━━

“We were told you guys many things to say about the show when it's not even out!” Your voice was amused, while Matt looked at you with a small smile.

“The internet is truly surprising” Matt lets out, making you shake your head.

“Okay, so here’s the deal. We’ll both be reading some things you’ve posted, and we’ll react on the spot.”

“No judgment on our side.” You shot Matt a look, “Maybe just a little.”

“Can I go first, please?” You ask, slightly pouting so he would say yes. You knew he could never truly refuse you if you made that face.

“Of course, my love.” The grin on your face at his words was all Matt would ever need in return.

You reach for the bowl and shake it, “So nobody can say we cheated!” You tell the camera, pointing your finger like you would when warning your children about something.

“Nobody’s going to say that now, Y/N.” Your husband says amusedly, finding it adorable that your tendencies as a mother made its way into other moments.

“@/ynmywife says “Whoever casted Y/N as a Targaryen in the show, will have my therapy bills delivered to their house😭” and then there’s a crying emoji.” You then roll the paper and throw it in a basket below the table.

“First off, I’m her husband so she’s not your wife,” Matt points out, jokingly placing his arm around your shoulder to show off his ‘dominance’, “Secondly, I agree with that statement.”

“You don’t even go to therapy!” You exclaim, looking bewildered by his words.

“The point still stands, but seriously, how did being cast feel?” He turns the conversation around, trying to bring back some seriousness, his arms still placed around you.

“It was surreal. I actually hadn’t auditioned to be a Targaryen, but I guess my vibes were those.” You started your answer, “My agent called and said I got the role of Valenya Targaryen, I remember being so shocked but I accepted instantly because I knew the experience would be amazing, and it was!”

“My story for being cast is much more boring compared to yours.” Matt murmurs, a small laugh leaving his lips as he reaches for the next paper in the bowl.

“I’m sure it's not.” You tell him, kissing his cheek.

“@/valyrianbiatch says “Are we gonna talk about how hot Daemon and Valenya look in those teaser pics???” with three question marks, it seems like they really want some answers.”

“We should talk about it more, tell us Matt, how does it feel to be married to such a hot person?” You teasingly say.

“It feels amazing.” Matt responds, as you make an “aw” sound that some of the crew backstage copies. He just places his hands in a way that is supposed to show you off, like he doesn’t need to further explain his answer.

“I think Daemon and Valenya exude this badass energy, which instantly makes them attractive to the eye.” Your words are slightly more serious, trying to actually get the interview somewhat correctly done. But you’re sure the fans will only concentrate on the more unserious bits.

“Plus they’re interpreted by stunning people, what’s not to like about that?”

“Exactly!” You exclaim, taking another paper from the bowl.

“@/dracaryss_ says “It feels illegal to watch HOTD knowing Matt and Y/N were casted as siblings!!” with two exclamation marks at the end.” You read out the paper, playing with it while thinking of a good answer.

“It’s definitely less weird now, the Targaryen family tree really is a circle of incestous people.” Matt answers jokingly.

“I feel like we’ve been in this job long enough to separate our actual lives from fiction, which I feel everyone should be able to do.” You say, looking at Matt after.

“That’s also very vital to the process, and they don’t really behave like siblings so most of the time it wasn’t as awkward.” He ends with a laugh, as you smile in return.

“The show may not be to everyone’s taste, so please be cautious while watching!” While you speak Matt reaches for another paper.

“Let 's see… @/lannisterlions says “And when I faint from the beauty of the Targaryens? Then what?””

“I would recommend some water, some ibuprofen even.” You were being sarcastic, but your voice had a motherly edge to it which made Matt almost melt in his seat.

“I fear they’ll be fainting a lot, they’re the stars of the show.”

“That too.” You agree, chuckling slightly.

━━━━━━

You’ve already responded to a couple of tweets, some responses more serious than others in which you’ve just taken the piss out of their silly comments.

“I feel like I’ve answered tweets for a lifetime now.” You let out, your head resting on the shoulder of your husband, his arm wrapped around your waist.

“I know I have.” Matt tells the camera, nodding slightly at his own words.

“It was very fun, though.” You add while smiling.

“We had a blast, thank you for all of the amazing tweets.”

“And don’t forget to tune in every sunday for a new episode of ‘House of the Dragon’ available on HBO.” You end, blowing some kisses to the camera as Matt waves his hand.

The video ends with Matt whispering something inaudible to your ears, making you throw your head back in laughter as the video fades to black.

━━━━━━

COMMENTS 29k

username1: oh to be in a healthy loving relationship like theirs…

👍 72k

username2: hbo is sick and twisted… i’m making a subscription as we speak btw

👍 26k

username3: can they adopt me?????

👍 44k

137 REPLIES

username4: me too pls

username5: they look so caring😭

username7: i’m so excited to see them in action, the trailers already look amazing

👍 10k

username8: my favourite milf and dilf

👍 35k

username9: stop i hate that i know the ending to their characters’ story

👍 19k

56 REPLIES

username10: shh i wanna see them slay without wanting to cry

taglist: @paprikabadger @edtomh @ateliefloresdaprimavera

#*ੈ✩༄ my works !#harryspugh #house of the dragon #matt smith #matt fanfic #matt smith fic #matt smith blurb #matt smith fanfiction #daemon targaryen #hotd

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callmemaeverick · 1 year

Text

Flying on the Ground: In Sickness and In Health || Daemon Targaryen x fem!Reader

A/N: Firstly, this was grossly self-indulgent, concocted by mine own feverish mind. Secondly, have you guys ever had moment of inspiration where the story is so clear in your mind, and the words flowed non stop and the characters fit perfectly and it’s like you were writing/watching your own episode? Yeah, this is what this is.

Request: I’m sick with fever and I’m kinda craving a Daemon x fem!reader, where she is his frenemy and one day he called on her for some mischief and she can’t join him cause she’s sick, so he forgoes his plans and took care of her instead. She’s of course reluctant to accept tho.

Daemon hated waiting. If there was one thing Daemon hated more than court and his brother's Hand, it was waiting. And when the waiting was anything but beneficial to him, when the waiting only served to waste his time, Daemon felt his ire rise to incredible heights.

The sun had slipped further from its zenith and the prince had had enough. If she would not come to him, then he would have to come to her. After all, she did owe him and Daemon collects his debts. Clutching the reins of his horse, he swung himself atop and spurred it onwards, towards the Red Keep.

xxx

Stifling. That was the only word that came to her mind as she woke from her uneasy slumber. Stifling, unbearable heat. She had known the illness was coming. She had a suspicion a few nights ago, when her throat became scratchy and swallowing became painful. The Maesters had procured for her some tea that was supposed to be soothing to the throat and keep the inflammation at bay, but alas, with the uncertain weather befalling King's Landing of late, there was nothing much a simple tea could do.

She groaned as she swallowed, her throat as dry as the dessert far into the East. It were times like these that she wished she never agreed to be an envoy for her father. She hated coming to King's Landing. The weather was always too hot for her too-hot blood. Although, she realized she shouldn't really blamed it all on him as she was the one that insisted that she foresee their latest trade of horses.

Thinking of her horses, she was reminded of the challenge of a race she had thrown at Prince Daemon's feet the eve before. They had been comparing beasts, arguing really, debating the usefulness of the creatures their Houses were known for. While hers were not one of the Great Houses, it does boasts the title one of the best horse traders of Westeros and she’d be damned if she allowed him to dismiss her favourite creatures.

"My Lady, Prince Daemon requests to see you."

She cursed her thoughts as if they were the ones that brought the Devil to her door. But despite her state, she refused to admit weakness.

She was grateful for her handmaiden. The girl knew her very well and had endeavoured to keep her unbothered the whole morning. But there was so much she could do against the prince.

Pushing through the light throbbing in her temples, she rose from her bed and donned the robe to cover her modesty. Once she was presentable, she nodded to Taalya.

The girl granted the prince entry and made herself scarce.

As Daemon entered her chambers, she took the time to take him in. Clad in his riding attire, he look very much ready for their race. He raised an inquiring eyebrow at her state, hand on the pommel of his sword, relaxed.

"You have your riding boots on. Were you heading somewhere?" She feigned ignorance, mocking lilt in her tone. She cleared her throat when her words turned raspy towards the end.

The prince's lips curved into a smirk. "Tell me. Is one considered a victor of a race if one's challenger failed to even attend the actual event?"

Her eyes narrowed at the implication in his voice. "You tell me, my Prince. I'm sure you've considered yourself such multiple times before."

To most, her banter with the prince could be deemed as insolent, but she knew better. They have known each other for years and she knew that there was a line with Daemon, a line she was well aware of and a line she was careful not to cross. Fortunately for her, to him, their banter was just that, banter, a way to entertain himself when the politics and the frauds around him became too unbearable.

But then, she coughed, and hissed, and all the teasing disappeared from his face.

"What's happened?" Daemon asked, taking a step forward to reach her.

She was quick to wave off his advance. "I'm fine," But her words came out fractured and he was quick to catch her wrist.

"You are not." Turning her to face him, he leveled her with a look that warned her from testing him at that moment.

Her jaw clenched when she realized she was essentially trapped. She had wanted to keep her illness confidential, or at least known to only a few people. She had always hated admitting that she was not well, admitting she was anything less than capable, seeing it as a weakness that she had careful never to reveal.

"It is is simply an infection, Daemon. I am fine."

"If you are fine, you would be at the stables. But you are not."

She huffed at his remark, knowing he was, of course, right. Twisting from his grip, she took a step back. "I will be fine." She amended.

The prince followed her. "Of that, I am certain. As for now," Without her permission, he brought his hands to her throat, fingers pressing gently at the delicate column of her neck. He watched her face closely as he did, watching her reaction.

And her, she froze at his proximity, at the feel of his gentle prodding on her too-warm skin, the weirdly comforting sensation of his touch contrasting with the pinpricks of pain when he aggravated her swollen nodes. They were rarely this close with one another and when they were, it was usually not as amicable. Although, she shouldn't be too surpised with how boldly he invaded her personal space.

Before long, she winced and jerked away from his fingers.

"Did the maesters provide you with anything?" Daemon asked, letting his hands fall. He watched her step away from him and this time he stayed put.

She nodded to answer him, clearing her throat, hand at the base of her neck. "Yes,"

"Good." And with that, he turned and left the room.

She watched him go and rolled her eyes. She would not burden herself with understanding the prince. Not this day.

xxxx

Night fell and her suffering had yet abated. In fact, she believed it to be worse, for her fever spiked just past the hour of the bat.

The maesters had seen to her and did their best to ease her illness, but what can they do but provide her with more of the soothing tea and advice of bedrest.

"I strongly discourage any strenuous activity while you are confined to bedrest, my Lady," Mellos gave her a knowing look. He had been treating her for years, and he was well aware of her penchant for ignoring his advices. "And that includes visiting the royal stables."

She rolled her eyes at him and made a show of burrowing further into her sheets. "Of course," She acquiesced, for the time being.

The old man gave her a fatherly smile and excused himself, Taalya following behind him.

Truth be told, she was not even thinking of slipping away from her confinement, the thought of standing and walking sending bouts of nausea through her head. So, pulling her covers over her body, she submitted herself to another uneasy night.

xxxx

Thunder cracked the sky as the wind howled outside her windows, but the noise was not what woke her. Instead, it was the the feel of a hand against her cheek.

"You are getting worse."

A flash of thunder illuminated the silhouette of the prince by her bed, but she was not startled. She had known of the secret passageways scattered within the Red Keep, some of them having been revealed to her by the very man that had snuck into her chambers.

She groaned lightly at his intrusion, but nuzzled into his touch, chasing the reprieve from his cool palm.

"Here," Daemon brought a vial to her lips and she finally blinked up at him, alert.

"Is this how you plan to stay the victor of our race? By poisoning me?"

Daemon's chuckle reached her ears, but she did not let it distract her.

"So you concede that I was the victor then?"

In response, she narrowed her eyes at him. "What is it?"

The prince sighed, but answered truthfully nonetheless. "It's a tonic, something that was taught to me during my travels. It's supposed to help with the swelling."

She watched him for a few beats until she was satisfied with his answer, and allowed him to help her with the draught, letting it spill past her lips. She coughed lightly at the bitter taste, but managed to keep it down. Sighing, she let herself fall back onto her pillows, vaguely aware of the Prince prowling in her room. Too tired to kick him out, she closed her eyes but kept her ears attuned to his movements, to the sounds of a chaise being lifted and then placed near her bed.

"Sleep." His hand was again cupping her face. "Rest. For you owe me a race."

Smiling, she finally let herself drift back into oblivion.

xxxx

A few days later found her atop one of the low hills surrounding King's Landing. In each of her hand, she held a rein, one was for her palfrey, North, named after the region where her own Lady mother hailed, and in the other, she held Daemon's stallion.

She squinted at the horizon, watching the waves hit the shore that circled the Red Keep as she waited for her opponent. It seemed as if it was weeks had passed since she challenged the Prince to a race when in fact, it was only 3 nights past.

The horses beside her nickered and huffed agitatedly and she clicked her tongue, but her command was unheeded.

"What has gotten into you two?" She asked only for the answer to dropped quite literally out of the sky behind her.

The Blood Wyrm screeched at her to announce his arrival and she winced lightly, though it did not bother her much. In the years she had visited the Keep, she had come to know the dragon as well as his rider, and oddly enough, she actually favoured him among the rest of the dragons that were residing in the Dragonpit. He was different, and temperamental, but he is loyal through and through and she respected that.

"As much as I appreciated the chance to see Caraxes again, I do not think he is an agreed part of our wager, Daemon." She called out across the field at him. "Unless, you plan on cheating."

There was a bark of laughter and then the prince himself appeared from underneath his dragon's wings. He waited until he reached her and swung himself on top of his horse. "And as much as I would love to see you race me on a dragon.. I do not think I would need him to best you."

She swung herself up onto her own horse and twisted the reins around her palm. Her eyes twinkled as she smirked at him. "I guess we shall see." And with a well practiced snap, she urged her steed forward, grinning when she heard him chase after her

FIN

Tagging: @ly--canthrope

#daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen fanfiction #matt smith #matt smith fanfiction #hotd #house of the dragon #mav's posts

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