#rhaenyra x you | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

maidragoste · 6 months

Text

The Decision

Daemon Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader, minor Harwin Strong x Velaryon!Reader, Rhaenyra Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader

Again another AU with the reader of The Sea Dragon, The Clubfoot and The Green Queen (you don't need to read it to understand this one shot because this story starts LONG BEFORE the canon of that universe).

Summary: When King Viserys announces that he plans to marry you, you make a decision to avoid becoming the king's wife.

Now you can read this bonus!

TW: This is NSFW (if you don't like it you can read only the Rhaenyra and Harwin parts)

I was dying to share this with all of you so I hope you like it!

If you want to read more of this Reader and Daemon, don't hesitate to let me know in the comments or in my inbox 🤭

REBLOGS, comments and likes are always greatly appreciated 🥰🥰💖💖

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes. Also this is my first smut so sorry if it's weird to read.

You felt your heart hammering as you waited for the king to make his announcement. Your stomach wouldn't stop spinning and you have no idea how you still hadn't vomited up what you had for breakfast.

With every passing second you have to keep yourself from running out of the council chambers. You couldn't stop looking at your father, a part of you wanted to take his hand and ask him to get you out of here but you didn't trust him anymore. You were in this situation because of him. You always knew that your father is a proud and ambitious man but you never thought that his ambition would be greater than his love for you. If your father really loved you he wouldn't have sent you to the king's chambers. He wouldn't have made you start wearing dresses that showed more skin for your visits with him. Gods, you wanted to hit your father so badly, you wanted to wipe the smile off his face because both he and you knew what Viserys was going to announce. Everyone knew it, you noticed that Otto Hightower was trying to hide his annoyance from everyone, the only one who seemed unaware of the tension in the room was Rhaenyra.

“I have decided to take a new wife,” the king began and you noticed how he and Rhaenyra exchanged a look. You were surprised to see your cousin nod as if she was permitting him to move on. Did Rhaenyra know? Did she approve of this? “I intend to get married,” he continued, this time looking at you and your father. You forced a smile as you dug your nails into your palms, feeling helpless for being in this situation “with Lady Y/N Velaryon before spring.”

Your eyes met Rhaenyra's purple ones. There was none of the love or fun you usually saw. Now she was looking at you with a mixture of pain and fury. The pain in your stomach got worse. Nyra had never looked at you like that. This shouldn't be happening.

It was obvious that she didn't know that her father was planning to marry you. You wanted to scream, you wanted to hug her and tell her that this wasn't what you wanted, that you weren't trying to steal her mother's place, that you would never do anything to hurt her.

"Rhaenyra" the king called her but the princess left the chambers anyway. You couldn't take this anymore so you went after her, ignoring your father's calls.

You followed the princess. You could feel the fabric of your dress sticking together due to perspiration, you didn't know if it was because of your nerves or because you were practically almost running after Rhaenyra. It was uncomfortable but right now you didn't care. You needed to clear things up with her. You couldn't stand that she hated you.

"Nyra" you called when she finally stopped. You two were in the gardens, in front of the heart tree. Where more than once you had Rhaenyra lay with her head in your lap while you sang her any song she wanted. Where you two used to stay out in the sun complaining about the septa's lessons while you combed her hair. This tree has so many good memories and now you fear there will be no more.

"How could you?!" she yelled at you furiously. She couldn't believe how you had been by her side, comforting her, accompanying her in her grief, remembering the stories the both shared with her mother so that later you went behind her back to conquer her father. When her father told her that he needed to take another wife she thought it would be Laena Velaryon. Not from you. Never from you. You were supposed to be hers.

"Please, Nyra, don't hate me" you begged and grabbed her hands desperately, pulling her closer to you "I swear I didn't want this but my father" you shook your head and forced yourself to continue talking trying to ignore the knot in your throat "I'll find a way to fix this, I promise" you kissed her hands.

The princess studied you for a few minutes. She needed to check that you weren't faking this just to avoid her anger. Your eyes seemed to be glazed over from the tears you were holding back and your hands clung to her desperately.

“I believe you,” she finally said and you sighed in relief.

"Thank you", you said with a shaking voice

This time it was Rhaenyra who kissed your hands and rested her forehead against yours. You closed your eyes feeling at peace for a moment knowing that she didn't hate you.

"I won't marry your father, Nyra. I promise."

If it weren't for the fact that she was now the heir to the throne, Rhaenyra would have told you that you would run away with her, that the two of you would go together on your dragons and travel the world together, and that you didn't need a husband, that if you wanted her, she would take you as a wife. But now she had obligations, she couldn't abandon everything for you even if her heart screamed for her to do so.

After clearing things up with Rhaenyra you went to your chambers. Of course, your father was waiting for you, he scolded you for your abrupt departure but he left you alone once you told him that you had managed to calm the princess's annoyance. Being alone you decided to put your plan into action, first you took a bath with the purpose of relaxing and getting rid of any trace of nerves you had before, then you put on one of your simplest dresses and placed a hooded cape on top to hide your hair. You were leaving the castle and you didn't need anyone to follow you.

You successfully slipped away and headed out into the streets in search of Harwin. You knew that today he had to stand guard on the streets of Flea Bottom. A girl in your position shouldn't be here but you didn't care. You needed to talk to him as soon as possible.

“Harwin” you called him when you finally found him.

“Lady Velaryon, you should not be here,” said the guard, gently hugging you by the shoulders and taking you to a corner further away from the people.

It felt bad to hear him call you in such a formal way when for weeks he had been calling you by your name or “sunshine”, the nickname he had given you. You remember like it was yesterday when you kissed him for the first time after he explained to you that the reason he called you that was because you brightened his days every time he saw you.

This sudden formality was like a slap in the face and he confirmed what you already feared.

“You know,” you declared sadly.

“My father told me,” he admitted, releasing you. You weren't surprised since Lyonel is on the council and had been present at this morning's meeting. You suspected that Harwin's father thought it would be best for him to find out from him rather than from someone else since you were sure that Lord Strong and your parents knew about the meetings between you and Harwin. You thought it was no secret that he was courting you, but apparently, not everyone knew because otherwise, Viserys would not have chosen you as his wife. Or maybe he knew but didn't care.

“This doesn't have to change what's between us,” you said as you stood on tiptoe to have his face closer to yours. “I don't want to marry the king. I want you” you whispered against his lips but without touching them. Harwin had to control himself from closing the small distance between you and kissing you. “Make me your wife,” you asked before capturing his lips with yours.

You froze when Harwin walked away from you.

“I can't,” he whispered and closed his eyes to avoid seeing the disappointment on your face.

“I thought you loved me” In your voice there was more anger than sadness but your body language was different, you found yourself hugging yourself trying to comfort yourself. You were disappointed.

“I do,” he stated firmly, opening his eyes so you could see that he spoke sincerely. “I love you. If it were any other man he would fight for you but…”

His silence told you everything. He loved you but it's not enough to face the king.

“You're a coward,” you spat and left the way you came.

You didn't really think Harwin was a coward but you were hurt by his rejection. You felt stupid to believe that whatever Harwin felt for you would be bigger than any coherent thought but you can't blame him after all any intelligent person would be afraid to go against the king's wishes and steal his fiancée…

But all was not lost, you knew someone well who was not afraid of Viserys and could help you. It was a desperate move and your parents would think you were an idiot for this but you refuse to be the king's wife. You had seen how as the years went by and with each pregnancy, Queen Aemma deteriorated. You didn't want the same thing.

You wrote to Daemon. You told him that the king wanted to marry you but that you were seeking to avoid this marriage and that you needed his help. You waited anxiously for his response while you had to feign excitement every time someone talked about your wedding preparations. Luckily it didn't take that long for a crow to arrive with the rogue prince's answer. There were no reassuring words in his letter, the only thing the scroll said was "Come to Dragonstone."

And that's what you did. Nobody suspected when the next day you went on the back of your dragon since everyone knew that there was not a day in which you did not disappear for a couple of hours to go flying with Nightwing.

"My prince, Lady Y/N Velaryon!" The guard announced your arrival before letting you enter the chambers where the prince was staying.

Daemon, who had seen you approach with Nightwing from the window, had his back turned but turned to look at you. He hasn't seen you in months. Your hair was longer and you seemed to have changed the way you dressed. The blue dress you were wearing seemed to have more cleavage, it wasn't anything scandalous enough for the court to talk about but it did draw attention.

"It's good to see you, Y/n" Daemon stated making you smile. You were sure that this was the first sincere smile you had given in days.

You waited for the guard to leave. Once you heard the sound of the door closing, you began to walk towards the prince without haste, trying to show as much confidence as possible. Normally you wouldn't be nervous around Daemon but you hadn't seen him in months and he was the only person who could help you. You didn't want to ruin this.

*I'm wondering the same. These months without you were boring "You weren't lying or trying to sugarcoat it to achieve your goal, it was simply the truth. Every time he leaves court you wish for his return.

"You still didn't come after me" Daemon held back his smile when he saw the surprise in your eyes.

He liked seeing that look in your eyes. Every time he brings you something new from his travels, every time he teaches you a new move in the training yard, every time he asks you for his favor in tournaments. How he had missed seeing her. He wouldn't tell you but he had missed you these past few months. So imagine his fury when after so long the first news he receives from you is that his brother plans to marry you. You are too much of a woman for Viserys. Her brother wouldn't know what to do with you. You would spend the rest of your life bored. Daemon couldn't allow it.

"I didn't know you wanted that," you said, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"I invited you to go with me on my next trip, didn't I?"

Before Queen Aemma's death, when you helped Daemon put on his armor for the tournament you complained about the lengthening of his travels. The prince's response was to invite you to go with him next time. You were so excited to accompany him on his trips that you didn't wait for the tournament to end to ask your parents for permission. But then Aemma died and you didn't dare leave Rhaenyra.

You laughed. “That wasn't a trip, Daemon. Viserys exiled you.”

"And now he will exile you" he mocked, making you irritated but you quickly forgot about your irritation when Daemon placed his hands on your waist and pulled you closer to him, leaving your bodies pressed together. You should be uncomfortable with this but you're not. "You understand? Right? You know what you were asking for when you asked me for help?" He asked, studying your reaction. He needed to see that you really understood what you were about to do. This was your time to repent. But he didn't find uncertainty in your eyes if not desire, you looked at him with pure desire.

"I know," you responded, trying to ignore the flutter of emotion you felt at the intensity of the prince's gaze. You should be against doing this after all your reputation would be ruined but deep down you always wanted to have even a little bit of Daemon.

In reality, there was always a tension between the two of you. More than once you two ended your fights in the yard more irritated than you were before you started because after so much friction, touching, and sweat you both wanted to do something else that you couldn't. You didn't want to be the other woman and Daemon for once wanted to make things right with you. He hoped that one day Viserys would annul his marriage to Rhea Royce to take you as his wife. That day never came but that didn't matter anymore.

"You will take me as your second wife" While you spoke your eyes couldn't help but stop a couple of times on his lips.

Daemon tilted his head a little and gently brushed aside a strand of hair to whisper in your ear "I'll do it. If you want that" you shivered as you suddenly felt his breath on your neck. It doesn't take long for you to feel his warm lips against your skin. You unconsciously stretched your neck, leaving him free to continue spreading more kisses. With each kiss, you felt your body warmer. You can't help but wonder how his lips will feel just as good on another part of your body. “People will talk about us,” he warned, snapping you out of your fantasy.

You knew what Daemon was referring to, not only would it be a scandal if the king's fiancée married another but also if that other is Daemon Targaryen, the king's brother, and an already married man. People who don't understand his family's customs won't think your marriage is legitimate, and if you were to have children with him people would probably think of them as bastards. Also, the court could compare your marriage to one of Maegor Targaryen's many marriages. The kingdom would talk a lot about you two, even your family's name and respect could be damaged by this. Your father might never want to speak to you again in your life and your mother would be disappointed in you. You had thought about all this at night before receiving the prince's response. And yet you were determined to go ahead with this.

“Are you worried that the court will call you Second Maegor? Because I'm sorry to inform you but they already call you that” you said, managing to make Daemon laugh a little. You smiled when you heard him but your smile was soon replaced by a gasp as you felt his teeth biting into your neck.

“A wife shouldn't make fun of her husband,” he said making you roll your eyes, knowing that he wasn't serious and just wanted to mess with you. “If you marry me, this will not be just a marriage in name.”

You weren't an idiot. It wasn't enough for you to just marry Daemon. Viserys might still want to annul the marriage if he saw that you were a virgin but if it was known that Daemon had already had you then the council would tell the king that he should take another wife.

You walked away from him. “Are you afraid of taking me as your wife? You keep walking around instead of ordering them to start preparing everything for the ceremony. “The prince could see the challenge in his eyes and he loved it.” I'm not a little girl, Daemon. "I know what I'm getting into by marrying you."

And those words were enough for Daemon to finally join his lips with yours. There was nothing soft about his kiss, not like Harwin's. This kiss was hungry, you felt like he was devouring your mouth but you weren't far behind either, taking him by the neck, pulling him closer to you. It seemed as if neither of you two could get enough of the other. Finally giving free rein to the desire the both felt for a long time. You felt his hands trying to untie the back of your dress so you walked away from him with heavy breathing.

“Ah, ah, ah,” you hummed, now placing your hands on his chest, hoping to keep a little more distance. “You can't have me until we're married,” you declared, looking at him mischievously.

“You're so fucking annoying” Daemon complained and tried to kiss you again but you pulled your face away with a teasing smile. "Good. But then you won't leave the room until I'm done with you,” he warned you and he gave you a little squeeze on your waist before leaving, determined to prepare everything in the shortest possible time.

Daemon thinks he'll never get tired of this. See how you move on his cock, how focused you look with every jump you take in search of your pleasure, how you open your mouth and let those sinful sounds escape when you finally find your sweet spot, and above all the feeling of your cunt squeezing his cock.

Hearing Daemon's groan overwhelms you. It overwhelms you because, for the first time, you realize that you have power over him. It's too much to hear him say your name like you're a god while you're riding him. See how hungry he is for you, how he can't seem to get enough of you, how he can't go a minute without his mouth on you, without biting or sucking on your neck, without having his hands touching you. By now your body was covered in hickeys, marks, and bruises leaving the trace of your crime on display. You're sure that tomorrow when the maids came to help you dress they would be horrified to see the mark of Daemon's palms on your thighs after he held you for what seemed like hours while he devoured your cunt over and over again.

Your husband noticed that you were starting to get tired but you still didn't want to stop, not when you were already so close to cumming again but you were too proud to ask him for help.

“Let me take care of it,” he said, stopping to suck on one of your nipples.

He knows how stubborn you are so he didn't even give you a chance to refuse when he lifted you off his cock. You groan against his neck as he pushes you down onto his cock again. He begins to move you up and down as if you weighed nothing.

"Faster" you demanded with heavy breathing, feeling dissatisfied with the pace of his movements.

Daemon doesn't hesitate to follow your orders and makes you bounce faster. His grunts and moans do nothing but send heat to your core. You feel your legs tremble at the speed and depth of his thrusts. You want to have your share and leave your marks on your husband too but you can't focus as much time on biting or sucking on his neck when he's fucking you so good. You sob when you finally feel the knot in your stomach release and you cum on his cock.

Suddenly one of his hands leaves your waist and pulls your hair, stealing a gasp from you, making you stop hiding your face in his neck and thus trap your mouth again in a messy kiss.

"You take me so well," Daemon gasped against your lips, feeling your warm cunt not stop squeezing his cock.

The sound of skin slapping only increases the temperature of the room. Like the groans and gasps. Neither Daemon nor you were trying to be quiet, it was more like you were both competing to see who could make the other louder. You should be embarrassed and try to be quieter, that's what a good lady would do but you couldn't care less what people thought, not when you felt so good. And while you felt how Daemon filled your cunt with his seed a petty part of you couldn't help but think that you were hoping that this would reach Viserys' ears, that one of the servants would write to the king to inform him of the spectacle you and Daemon were putting on so that Viserys wouldn't want to have anything more to do with you.

Taglist: @immyowndefender @tojigirl @paninisstuff @serving-targaryen-realness @aphroditesblunt @thedazzlingburglar @technicallyannoyingninja

Taglist for all my House of the Dragon works

@chaotic-fangirl-blog @venus-flytrap3 @ajordan2020 @iloveallmyboys @sweethoneyblossom1 @fudge13 @crystal-faith @tita004 @ichanelvxgue @snowprincesa1 @joyouart @rosey1981 @alastorhazbin @papichulo120627 @apollonshootafar @jasminecosmic99 @diorchaiamet @partypoison00 @camy85 @fluffly @rebelliuna @bxdbxtxh15 @impartinghades @targaryenmoony @thegirlnextdoorssister @angeliod @snh96 @aleemendoza2425-blog @lizlovecraft @natashaobo @nyenye @savagemickey03 @watercolorskyy

For some reason tumblr won't let me tag them: @arabis-world @Snileykiddie08 @Bugheadskid @nzygftoji @lauufeysonnn @missusnora @sabi127 @cicaspair418 @tojigirl

If you want to be part of my taglist

hotd masterlist

3K notes · View notes

aemondsbabe · 4 months

Text

Arbor Gold

summary: sharing a drink & toys || rhaenyra treats you to a very special night out

pairing: modern!rhaenyra x f!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, wlw, public, fingering, use of a toy, vibrators, mentions of alcohol, mommy kink, sub!reader, allusions to oral, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 1.9k

a/n: happy day three of 12 days of smuff!! i was sweating writing this one, i can't lie lmao

12 days of smuff masterlist!

gif creds to @gameofthronesdaily!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

“Oh, that’s perfect,” Rhaenyra says to the waiter, watching with a smile as he finishes pouring two glasses of wine with a fancy flourish before setting the bottle on the table, “Thank you.”

With a polite nod, the waiter takes his leave, leaving you and your girlfriend alone once more. Your eyes scan the room once again, taking in the fancy dark wood paneling on the walls and the way the vintage crystal chandeliers sparkled as they cast a low, moody light over the room; the soft instrumental music coupled with the dull hum of other couples and groups of friends sharing quiet conversations comforted you despite the circumstances.

Finally, you let your eyes sweep over Rhaenyra and your lips instantly curved into a soft, sweet smile as you took her in, watching as she took a sip of the decadent Arbor Gold wine. This whole little adventure had been her idea – something fun and new to do, she’d said.

And she doesn’t disappoint, you think with a slight shiver as you shift a bit in the plush booth, the small vibrator she’d taken oh-so much care to work into you earlier presses deliciously against that small, sensitive patch within you.

“Everything alright, sweetling?” Rhaenyra asks, finally catching your eyes from where you’d been absentmindedly staring at the flickering tea candle on the table.

You smile and take her hand as she presses in closer to you, your bare shoulders nearly touching. You can’t help but admire her dress, a mirror copy of yours in every way aside from the color – the dark, blood red silk contrasts so beautifully against her soft, pale skin while the dim lights of the small bar dance off of the black silk of your own dress in smooth, pearlescent waves.

“I’m fine, Nyra,” you can’t help but reassure her with a soft smile as you poke your tongue out to wet your lips before pressing a gentle kiss to the back of her hand, “Just wondering when exactly you plan to start the show.” You tease, nodding to her phone.

“Now where would the fun be in revealing all my tricks?” She gives as good as she gets, her eyes gleaming as she looks you over appreciatively. She takes another sip of the wine, taking the time to swirl it around in her glass before delicately pressing her lips to the rim. You can’t help but bite your lip as she closes her eyes with a pleased hum. “Have you had any of yours yet? You really need to try it, my love, it’s absolutely decadent.”

You reach across the table and grab your glass, swirling the pale yellow-gold liquid around in the same way Rhaenyra did before taking a sip, sighing happily as you taste all manner of sweet, fruity notes.

You go to look at her with raised brows, about to compliment the expensive vintage as well, when she discreetly taps the screen of her phone. You only manage to get a soft, barely there squeak out as the vibrator comes to life inside you and buzzes softly against the most tender spot within you before Rhaenyra quickly leans over and presses her lips against yours, muffling the noise.

You sigh gratefully against her lips as your eyes flutter shut, one of your hands squeezes at her thigh, and you’re grateful that each table is adorned with a long tablecloth as your hips seem to buck up by themselves for a second.

She pulls away after a moment, once she can sense that you’ve calmed down some, and fixes you with a pleased grin before pressing one last, soft kiss against your shoulder. “That good already?” She teases, lifting her glass to her lips to take another sip of wine, “And to think, we’re only on the first level.”

You shiver, knuckles white as your fingers dig into the dark fabric of your dress, your hands pressed tightly against the tops of your thighs as you try and keep your hips still as Rhaenyra taps her phone screen, giggling as she turns the vibrations up a level.

Your skin is flushed, though you aren’t sure if it’s from the wine or from the incessant vibrations within you. You throw Rhaenyra another helpless glance, your fingers digging into her plush thigh as a warning that your peak is approaching.

She merely huffs out a soft laugh next to you and reaches out to tuck a lock of your hair back behind your ear before cupping your cheek, her pale eyes dancing over your face as she admires the blush that’s bloomed across your skin.

“Oh, pretty little thing,” she coos softly, smirking when she notices your lower lip trembling as you desperately try and bite back the moans threatening to spill from your lips, “Are you getting closer, my love?”

You nod as your walls clench desperately around the toy, the movement only serving to press it even more firmly against your sweet spot. You bite down on your bottom lip, your nails no doubt leaving small crescent moon marks against Rhaenyra’s delicate skin, as you try to control your breathing.

Just as you’re about to whisper that you can’t take much more, the waiter reappears, walking up to your table with a polite smile. You nearly cry as Rhaenyra quickly turns off the toy, although you can’t say whether it’s from relief or frustration from being so, so close.

“Is everything to your liking, ladies?” He asks, his gaze lingering on you for a second as he looks between the two of you.

“Everything is perfect.” Rhaenyra answers with a cool smile, casually taking a sip of wine.

“Wonderful, and is there anything else I can do for you all this evening?”

“I think we’re good over here,” she says, smirking as she spares you a glance, “Just bring the check when you get a moment, please. No rush, though.”

“Of course, ma’am.” The waiter says with a polite nod before taking his leave.

As soon as he’s gone, Rhaenyra presses herself close to you and you almost whine when you feel her breasts press against the side of your arm, her nipples hard and aching against the thin fabric of her dress. A chill goes through you at the realization that she’s enjoying this just as much as you are.

“That was going to be a big one, wasn’t it, sweetling?” She murmurs softly, one of her warm hands skimming across your bare thigh as she tucks it under your dress.

“Nyra, please,” you all but gasp, trembling next to her as your center aches, your walls squeezing helplessly at the toy, “Please…” You’re not even really sure what you’re asking for as you beg, your mind covered in a thick fog.

“Mmm,” she sighs, relishing the way you squirm in her hold as she skirts her hand higher and higher up your thigh, until the edge of her fingers are just barely pressing against the center of your thin lace underwear, “I don’t think it’s Nyra tonight, my little darling.” She says with a soft shake of her head, a few strands of her silvery hair falling beautifully against her cleavage.

“Mommy,” you correct yourself with a choked whimper, eyes glassy as you peer up at her, “Please, please.”

“Please what?” She asks, the condescending edge to her voice making your head spin, “Please take you home? Please make you come?” She prompts, eyebrows raised slightly as she smirks.

“I –,” you choke out, nearly jumping out of your skin when she turns the vibrator back on, not bothering to ease you into it as it buzzes away at a high speed, “F-Fuck.” You hiss, your body already tensing as the knot in your belly winds itself up at an alarming rate.

“I think you want to come,” she says lowly, nodding her own head as if to answer the question for you, “Luckily for you, mommy’s in such a giving mood tonight.” She studies your face carefully as she pushes your underwear to the side, her eyes positively sparkling once she feels how wet you are.

You bite your lip harshly, nearly drawing blood, as she begins rubbing circles over your aching bud, not bothering to warm you up as she normally does as her soft fingers press harshly against you. Your head spins as she works you up and up and up, your high building at nearly the same pace as the vibrations within you as she slowly increases the speed of the toy.

Before you’ve even had a chance to process the sensations flowing through your body, your head snaps to her and your eyes are wide as you look at her desperately, soft squeaks sounding from your throat. She merely looks at you expectantly – she may be in a giving mood but that didn’t mean she had to make the getting easy.

“M–,” You barely choke out the first syllable before your eyes squeeze shut, your core already starting to flutter around the small toy, “M-Mommy, mommy!” You urgently whisper, finally finding your voice before gritting your teeth, your breath catching in your throat just as you feel the very beginnings of a familiar tightening overtaking your belly.

“Let mommy have it, sweetling,” Rhaenyra coos, not stopping the movements of her fingers as she feels your bud twitch against her fingers. She murmurs soft praises into your ear as your high washes over you, talking you through it as your hips squirm against the lush fabric of the booth. “That’s a very good girl. Is that such a big one, darling? You did so, so good for me, sweetling.”

Her soft praises nearly send you over the edge again, but thankfully she decides to spare you and turns off the vibrator before slowly extracting her hand from your underwear, taking a second to make sure to move them back into place for you, the small gesture making your heart skip a beat.

She laughs softly next to you, the sound making you open your eyes and you nearly moan at the sight of her dipping a finger, still shining from where she’d touched you, into the half-full cup of wine in front of her. She takes a second to swirl it around before bringing it to her lips, her eyes gleaming as she sucks at the digit; the sight alone is enough to make your tender walls clamp down on the toy but the small, satisfied moan she makes just about sends you spiraling over the edge yet again.

“That’s definitely my new favorite pairing.” She teases, smirking at the wide-eyed look on your face.

“Nyra!” You laugh, your heart racing in your chest as you feel the butterflies in your tummy stir yet again while the two of you dissolve into flirtatious giggles.

Just then, the waiter appears with the check, which Rhaenyra quickly scans over before passing her credit card to him. She turns to you as soon as he disappears around a corner, the coy look in her eyes making you feel flush all over again.

“I can’t wait to get you home, sweetling,” she sighs softly and presses a kiss against the curve of your neck before polishing off the last bit of wine in her cup, “Mommy is absolutely dying for something sweet for dessert…” She teases, raking her hand back up your thigh.

A giving mood, indeed.

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @alerisc

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

430 notes · View notes

sapphire-writes · 1 year

Text

The Au Pair (modern!HOTD) part 2

Part 1 ~ Part 2

pairing: Daemon x fem!Reader x Rhaenyra

summary: Your job nannying for the Targaryens takes an unexpected turn.

warnings: 18+ (explicit sex, oral fem receiving, fingering), slight power imbalance as they're your bosses, language

word count: 4.0k

note: part 2, it's about to get spicy in here! I hope you enjoy!

Days go by like you’re living in a dream. You’ve fallen into a solid routine with the boys, ushering them out to the school in the morning, and taking them to the park (mostly to gossip with Shae). You can’t help the gnawing feeling inside you, waiting for the shoe to drop. It’s almost been a month and you’re still around. As Shae said, previously unheard of.

“They’ve got some wedding this weekend,” Shae says waving to one of the kids.

You’re sitting on your usual bench with her, sipping on a hot drink, rocking Joffrey’s carriage with your foot slightly. He’s out cold, snuggled up with his favorite plushie, a soft dragon egg. You raise an eyebrow at Shae.

“A wedding sounds fun!” you tell her.

“There'll be some drama, that’s for sure,” she teases, “I’ll have plenty of gossip to spill when we get back.”

“If I’m still here,” you joke, causing her to frown.

“It’s still going well though, right?” she asks.

“Yeah it's literally perfect,” you tell her, “though I feel like I’m walking on eggshells now.”

“Keep your head up, you’re doing great,” Shae says, rubbing your shoulder.

You glance at your phone, noticing the time.

“Shoot, I should get them home,” you tell Shae, calling to the boys.

Jace and Luke bound over to you. You hand them their jackets, helping Luke with his. He enjoys the extra attention as you zip him up. Luke is such a little love. He thanks you, and you wave goodbye to Shae, heading back to the highrise. It was such a nice day you decided to walk to the park not far from the Targaryen home.

Daemon and Rhaenyra aren’t present when you arrive, though the home office door is shut so you assume Rhaenyra is finishing her day. You sit the boys at the counter in the kitchen, plating the dinner that has been prepared by the chef. You lean against the counter, joining them.

“I don’t like peas,” Luke says, pushing them about his plate.

“They’re better if you mix them with your mashed potatoes,” you tell him.

Jace reaches over to Luke’s plate, swirling his fork in his mashed potatoes and gathering some peas on his plate. Luke lets his elder brother, before scooping the mix onto his fork and shoving it into his mouth.

“Much better,” he says through a bite, causing you to smile.

The front door opens then, and Daemon walks into the kitchen, phone against his ear.

“Then we’re going to have to figure this out,” he says roughly, to whomever he’s on the phone with.

He smiles at the boys, before continuing his conversation. Daemon sounds stressed, and you think it's best to remove yourself and the boys from the kitchen.

“Let’s go to the theater room,” you tell them, clearing their places, “and give daddy some space.”

Daemon wasn’t paying attention before, lost in his conversation with his partner, but you have his attention now. His violet eyes meet yours and you feel a blush begin to warm your cheeks. Daemon smirks slightly, before returning to his conversation.

You hope you haven’t put your foot in your mouth. You take the evening to yourself after the boys go to bed. A bottle of champagne with a silver bow was left in your bathroom as you returned to your room for the evening. Rhaenyra is too kind to you. You pop the bottle and pour yourself a glass, settling into a soothing bubble bath.

Long after your soak, as you’re reading in bed, a soft knock comes to your door. You had just reached a rather spicy chapter, your mind completely entranced in the text, lower lip caught between your teeth. You jump slightly at the knock, before opening the door and revealing Rhaenyra.

Her silver hair is flowing freely over her shoulders and she wears a red silk pajama set. She smiles at you.

“Hey, Rhaenyra,” you say, feeling warm from the champagne.

“I just wanted to apologize for being so absent today,” she tells you, “work just got away from me.”

“There’s no problem at all,” you tell her, shaking your head, “seriously, it’s what I’m here for.”

Rhaenyra smiles.

“Daemon and I wanted to offer you tomorrow evening off. Laena has agreed to take the boys for a sleepover, and we figured you deserved a night off,” she tells you.

“Thank you so much,” you tell her, unable to stop yourself, “seriously, you’re so thoughtful with the gifts, and now the day off- I really appreciate the kindness.”

Rhaenyra cocks an eyebrow slightly at the mention of gifts, but you don’t really notice. You’re too lost in the sparkle of her violet eyes, her playful smile, and the way her eyes flicker around your face. She watches you with such rapt attention it makes your heart beat faster in your chest.

“We really like you,” she tells you, reaching out to stroke your cheek.

Your lips part, and you cannot help but let your gaze fall on hers. Pink, plump, and waiting. You blink rapidly. She’s your boss.

“We would really like to keep you,” she tells you, “So we like that you’re happy.”

She strokes your cheek a final time before pulling away.

“Enjoy tomorrow night, have fun, and go out!” she tells you.

As she turns her eyes flicker to the champagne bottle, the half-full glass. She smirks.

“Enjoy the gift,” she tells you, bidding you goodnight.

You leap back onto your bed as she leaves, rummaging in your nightstand drawer. Your hand finds your vibrator immediately. Surely, fantasizing about your boss isn’t bad? I mean, you’re only human after all. It takes a couple of rounds before you’re finally able to find sleep.

The next evening you call your best friend, letting her know you’re free. She’s more than excited that you finally have a break. You decide on a pretty fancy club, for drinks and dancing. A much-needed night with your friends. A short silk dress clings to you, the perfect going-out dress. You’re wearing your favorite heels, strappy black ones that creep up your calves.

You’re having a good time, a couple of drinks in when you notice a flash of silver. Daemon Targaryen is there, clad in his signature suit, with rings on his fingers catching in the light. You turn quickly as his head turns your way, tapping your best friend.

“I’m getting another drink!” you tell her above the music, heading toward the bar.

You lean against it, putting in your drink order, trying to steady your nerves. You take a sip from your drink as someone comes up beside you. You know it's him before you look, from the smell of his cologne paired with some expensive cigars. You’ve heard Rhaenyra scold him for smoking but know he does it anyway when out with his investors.

“I can go somewhere else,” you tell him.

“Why would you do that?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” you answer, clearly flustered, all batting eyelashes and rosy cheeks.

Daemon wants to devour you whole. Leave nothing behind. Trailing you across the club and over to the bar has made him feel like a predator chasing its prey; his cock hard in his pants.

“I just imagine you don’t want to see your au pair when you’re trying to have a night out,” you tell him, nervously licking your lips.

Daemon watches you, taking a sip from his drink.

“I don’t mind at all,” Daemon murmurs, leaning closer, “in fact, it’s nice to see you having fun and enjoying yourself.”

You shiver at the feeling of his breath on your ear. You shouldn’t be so turned on by this, he’s your boss. You really like working for them, working with the boys and you really like Rhaenyra. This is wrong. This is wrong.

“Thank you again,” you tell him, moving away a bit, “for the night off. It’s really nice of you.”

Daemon nods, noticing your retreat. You glance at the section of the club your friends stand in, they wave at you, beckoning you over.

“I should go,” you tell Daemon.

“Behave yourself,” Daemon tells you, “and have fun. I’ll see you at home.”

You can’t stop the jolt of pleasure that lands between your legs at his tone. You nod, not trusting your voice, and make your way over to your friends.

“Who was that Daddy you were talking to?” your friend asks, eyes wide.

“Girl!” you hiss, “That’s my boss.”

Her mouth drops open in surprise as she cranes her neck to get a better look.

“How do you even work, with all that walking around?” she asks.

You chuckle, taking a sip of your drink.

“You should see his wife,” you tell her, blushing.

She squeals.

“Dirty girl! How do I get your job?” she whines and you laugh some more.

The evening is spent drinking and dancing, harmless fun. Daemon remains in the VIP section, lounging on a couch, sipping his whiskey while conversing with colleagues. His eyes remain on you throughout the evening, keeping you under a watchful eye. You catch him looking several times, a thrill running through you each time you do. It’s harmless fun, right? You’re not actually doing anything.

As you’re dancing with your friends you feel a hand snake it's way around your waist and you turn, meeting the eyes of a man with dark curls and warm brown eyes.

“Hey there sexy,” he murmurs, not removing his hand.

He’s cute. You blush, flattered by the attention.

“Um hello?” you say, eyes flickering to his hand on your waist before giggling.

“I’m Quoren Martell,” he tells you, continuing to dance with you.

You tell him your name, enjoying his boldness. You converse with him for a while, and let him buy you another drink. He’s charming and goes out of his way to make you laugh. Quoren Martell is just what you need to get this thing with Rhaenyra and Daemon out of your system. You’re just desperately horny, and a one-night stand will cure that.

“You want to get out of here?” Quoren murmurs in your ear, “Head back to mine? I have a spectacular collection of streaming services, all the movies and shows you can dream of.”

“Oh really,” you say chuckling, “you want to watch a movie with me?”

“I want to do a lot of things with you,” he answers honestly.

“Let me just run to the bathroom, and let my friends know,” you tell him, smiling.

You are pushed by people in the club and find your best friend in the bathroom, fixing her makeup in the mirror.

“I’m going home with that guy, Quoren,” you tell her.

She groans, giving you a quick hug.

“What about your sexy boss?” she asks, pouting.

“Haha,” you tell her rolling your eyes, “I love you, you good?”

“Yeah I’m good,” she says smiling, “have fun, be safe, and leave your location on please.”

“Always,” you tell her, kissing her cheek.

You walk out the door and down the hallway, heading back toward the music, when a figure walks toward you in the opposite direction. You expect them to keep walking by you, but suddenly hands are on your waist, pressing your back against the wall. You gasp, looking up at the stranger’s face, startled. There’s only a second to realize who it is before he slams his lips to yours.

Daemon.

His mouth is warm and demanding as his tongue splits your lips apart before darting into your mouth. You moan as his hands squeeze the meat of your ass, pressing you closer against him. Dameon brings one hand to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss. Your arms wrap around him, nails dragging against the expensive fabric of his suit.

Daemon releases your lips, tugging on your lower one harshly with his teeth before bringing his attention to your neck. Whimpers leave your lips and you thrash against him desperately. You can feel him hot, and hard against you- holy shit he’s huge.

It’s enough to rip you from your thoughts previously clouded by lust and you push against him, wiggling out of his grip. Oh no, oh nonononono.

Daemon lets you go, though a surprised expression is on his face as you flee away from him down the hallway.

Shit.

You’ve ruined everything.

You’re going to get fired. Maybe slapped. Probably both.

Oh no, Rhaenyra.

You hope you can somehow make it back to the highrise before Daemon and explain yourself. Your leg nervously taps in your Uber and you fly out of the car once it stops in front of the building. You push by the doorman and stress the entire elevator ride.

You don’t bother to remove your heels, running straight for Rhaenyra and Daemon’s room, crashing through the door. Rhaenyra is seated on the couch, feet tucked up underneath her. She looks up as you enter, her brow furrowed in concern.

“Darling-”

“I need to talk to you,” you gasp, “right now, I- Rhaenyra I am so sorry.”

She gets up, embracing you as tears leave your eyes. You hate that you’ve probably hurt her. She seats you on the bed, sitting next to you, stroking your hair as you tell her what happened.

“I would never, ever want to betray your trust,” you tell her, “I love this job, I love working for you so much, and this will never happen again, I promise.”

“Oh, sweet girl,” she says, holding your face in her palms, wiping away your tears with her thumbs.

Your eyes search her face, trying to gauge her feelings, but her expression gives nothing away. Like always, you can’t help but look at her lips, so pink and rosy and begging to be kissed. Rhaenyra’s eyes flicker to yours quickly and you blink. Surely, you’re now seeing things.

But then she leans forward.

Her lips are just as soft as you have imagined, and you let yourself get lost in the kiss for a moment, before pulling away just as she slips her tongue into your mouth. You gasp, standing up from the bed, trembling.

“Well,” a voice says, causing you to turn.

Daemon leans in the doorway, smirking at the sight in front of him.

“Getting started without me?” he says, loosening his tie.

Rhaenya makes a clicking sound with her tongue, reaching to grab your hand. You look at her in confusion.

“It seems you were getting started without me,” she purrs, tugging you closer.

Daemon throws his tie on the bed, moving to loosen his cufflinks.

“It wasn’t my fault,” he tells Rhaenyra, “I had to do something, did she tell you the whole truth of it?”

“What?” you say, now thoroughly confused.

“Ah,” Daemon says, shaking his head, “See? She’s trouble, I told you.”

“I don’t understand,” you tell them, feeling Rhaenyra stroke the back of your hand.

“She was being a little tease,” Daemon says, ignoring your statement, “about to go home with some silly little boy.”

His words sting. For some reason, you feel embarrassment flood through you. Rhaenyra looks up at you, noticing your pout. She places her hands on your waist.

“We’ve been interested in you for quite some time now,” she tells you, rubbing circles against your hips, “and we believe you’re interested as well.”

Oh shit.

They know you’ve been thinking about them. Both of them. Your eyes flicker between the two of them.

“I-I’m sorry-”

“What did I tell you about being sorry?” Rhaenyra scolds, “You’ve nothing to be sorry for. We just need to know. Do you want us, baby?”

This is not happening.

“She asked you a question,” Daemon tells you impatiently.

Rhaenyra gives him a stern look before her gaze softens as it returns to you.

“I’m not…” you pause, trying to wrap your brain around the situation, “I’m not losing my job?”

Rhaenyra chuckles softly.

“No dearest,” she answers, “we very much wish to keep you, sweet girl.”

You look between them once more.

“Okay,” you breathe, “Yes. Yes, I want you.”

Rhaenyra purrs happily, like a pleased kitten. She pulls you between her legs, grabbing your ass with both hands. She captures your lips in a kiss once more.

“We should be punishing her,” Daemon scolds as Rhaenyra pulls you closer.

“Hush you,” she says to Daemon, as she begins to kiss your neck, “She didn’t know she did something bad.”

“Then she’ll learn for next time,” Daemon says, watching closely.

You whimper at her touch, as one of her hands snakes up your back to the zipper of your dress. She drags the zipper down, letting the silky material pool at your feet. You’re not wearing a bra, the dress didn’t allow for one, so your breasts hang heavy and needy, nipples pebbling as the air touches them.

Rhaenyra drags her hands up your sides and you bite your lip, trembling under her touch.

“Don’t be so cruel, my love,” she scolds Daemon, “not during our first time. We must be gentle with new toys.”

Her hands reach your breasts and she massages the soft mounds in her hands, eliciting a moan from you. Daemon walks closer, you can feel him pressing in behind you as Rhaenyra takes your right nipple into her hot mouth, swirling her tongue over the hardened peak. She sucks the puckered bud hard and you arch your back into her.

You feel Daemon’s lips caress the side of your neck and your lips part as you tilt your head to allow him better access. Rhaneyra moves her mouth’s attention to your other breast as Daemon sinks his teeth into your shoulder. You cry out, flinging your hand back and grabbing a fistful of his silver hair, the other hand gripping Rhaenyra’s head against your breast.

She laughs against you as Daemon’s hands move to your panties, dragging the lace material down your legs. The noises you’re making are obscene already at their attention and Rhaenyra releases your nipple with a wet pop.

“Needy little thing you are,” she murmurs, dragging her hand across your dripping folds, “and so wet already.”

Daemon has crouched beside you, hands on the straps of your heels.

“Leave those,” Rhaenyra tells him, “I like them on her.”

You feel her slender finger teasing at your entrance, and Daemon lifts your leg, spreading you wide in front of Rhaenyra.

“I want to see this pretty cunt of yours,” she tells you, curling a finger inside of you.

Your hands dig into her shoulders, your mouth falling open as she slips a second finger inside, slowly curling them against your silky walls. The pleasure blooms in your abdomen like a rose stretching toward the sun.

“You’ll spoil her rotten,” Daemon says, before capturing your lips in a kiss as Rhaenyra continues curling her fingers inside your pussy.

She merely chuckles at Daemon.

“Oh I will, hmm?” she teases, “I’m not the one who’s been leaving her special treats. You think you’re clever, don’t you? Sneaking around at all hours, thinking I won’t know.”

Daemon’s hand moves to your neck, deepening the kiss for a moment before breaking away.

“Are you angry with me?” Daemon asks her, as Rhaenyra dips forwards, circling her tongue on your clit.

“Please,” you moan, thrashing against her mouth, against his hands that hold you firmly in place.

“Of course not,” Rhaenyra says, answering him, ignoring your plea with another small lick of your clit, “She’s been so good to us, she deserves it.”

Daemon’s hand travels from your neck to toy with your breasts as your orgasm creeps nearer with every stroke of Rhaenyra’s fingers, every flick of her tongue. It’s all too much and suddenly you’re crying out, clenching around her fingers, your arousal dripping down your thighs.

“You taste as sweet as you look, darling girl,” Rhaenyra praises, removing her fingers from your center.

Daemon flips you on your back, dragging you to the edge of the bed by your thighs. Your eyes widen at the sight of his massive cock, as he fists it in his hand. The flushed tip is weeping, anxious to split you open. You nervously glance at Rhaenyra who strokes some hair from your face.

“He’ll be gentle, sweet girl, won’t you, my love?” Rhaenyra says, stroking your face.

Daemon drags his cock along your sopping folds, from your entrance up to your clit. He taps the sensitive button with his fat tip, chuckling as you squirm from the sensation.

“For tonight, at least,” he says, watching his cock spread your folds once more.

Daemon presses the tip against your hole, pushing into you slowly, stretching out your tight walls. You moan at the stretch his cock gives you before you are silenced by Rhaenyra’s fingers in your mouth. You suckle them, gazing into her eyes as Daemon presses your thighs into the mattress, spreading you wide. The sleek black materials of your heels catch the light as he begins to thrust into you.

You whimper around Rhaenyra’s fingers as his cock splits into you so deliciously, Rhaenyra whispering sweet praises into your ear all the while.

“Fuck you feel fantastic,” Daemon groans, rolling his hips.

Rhaenyra removes her fingers from your mouth, trailing down between your breasts, down your stomach to play with your clit. You moan as her nimble fingers circle your clit, a juxtaposition to the hard thrusts Daemon gives you.

“Such a good girl,” Daemon praises, “She should put that pretty mouth to better use Nyra.”

He swats away Rhaenyra’s hand, replacing it with his own, large fingers pinching at your clit. It’s rougher than Rhaenyra’s touch but you find yourself twitching against him at the pleasure it gives you. Rhaenyra rises from the bed, riding herself off her bottoms before crawling up toward your face. She straddles it, lowering her dripping cunt onto your mouth.

You greedily part her soaked lips with your tongue, nose nuzzling against soft silver curls to nudge at her clit. You dip your tongue inside her, relishing the taste of her, the sound of the soft moans that leave her lips. Your tongue explores every inch of her, pressing into different places that elicit more pretty sounds, more desperate grinds against your face. Your chin is dripping with her as you suckle her clit.

“She’s a delight,” Rhaenyra moans and Daemon angles his hips, thrusting against a spot that paints stars behind your eyelids.

You moan against Rhaenyra’s sweet cunt, burying your tongue inside her, stiffening it so she can swirl her hips around it. As her moans reach a new pitch you know she must be close. Eager to please you lap at her greedily, bringing all your attention to her clit until she’s trembling on your face.

“Such a good girl,” Rhaenyra croons, “Daemon, be sweet to her.”

Daemon snaps his hips against you and Rhaenyra leans down, pressing her tongue against your clit as the head of Daemon’s cock rubs against your spongy walls. The pleasure is too much and you’re cumming once more, clenching around Daemon's fat cock. He thrusts into you a few more times before pulling out and finishing on your stomach.

Rhaenyra pulls herself off of you, and Daemon releases your legs. Your heels are still on, the feeling of being naked with just them on is strange. Daemon walks to the bathroom and you hear him start to fill the tub before he returns with a towel. He gently cleans you, as Rhaenyra draws shapes on your stomach with your fingers.

“We’d like it very much if you stayed, darling,” Rhaenyra tells you, “the children adore you. We adore you.”

She places a kiss on your shoulder. You want nothing more than to stay with them. Both of them.

“I want to stay. With you. Both of you,” you tell her, and she smiles.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Rhaenyra tells you.

“As am I,” Daemon agrees.

______________________________________________________________

note: hope you enjoyed! as always, comments, likes & reblogs are greatly appreciated, I love hearing your thought! until next time, ily!💖

HOTD TAGLIST GENERAL: @bluevxnuss, @thattargboy, @xlilacfrostx, @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed, @marvelescape, @geminithrone, @deltamoon666, @i-killed-ramsey, @tempt-ress, @eddiemadmunson, @zillahvathek, @hangmanscoming, @jojoesq, @f4ll-for-you, @rwdkarla, @cc13723things, @filipiniamultifandom, @watercolorskyy @alexxavicry @sachafirebringer @polireader @jamespotterismydaddy @grv7ay9In35s @sofiaadler @sophielangdonx @doublesparrows, @sophielangdonx, @alitaar, @castellomargot, @paodemorangol1l1, @nik2blog, @arkainea @eddiemadmunson, @malfoytargaryen, @eudximoniax, @targaryen-world, @ghostheartbeat @savagemickey03, @aemondsdaemons, @candypurplebutterfly, @eddiemadmunson, @xxnaly2, @ghostheartbeat, @savagemickey03, @dieg0brandos-wife, @paodemorangol1l1, @hb8301, @padfooteyes, @valeskafics @doublesparrows, @bornbetter, @beyond-the-ashes, @clairacassidy, @aslanvez, @loglady00, @gettheetoanunneryimmediatly, @minami97, @serving-targaryen-realness, @chaotic-fangirl-blog, @possiblyafangirl, @shmexie, @winter-soldier-101, @kaelatargaryen, @urmomsgirlfriend1, @floswife, @mizfortuna, @strawberryduvet, @girlwith-thepearlearring, @arryn-nyx, @namelesslosers, @hopelesswritergall

@coldcomputerkoala, @louislouve, @alicetargaryen @fidelias, @earthangels-things, @shinypoetryface, @klara-lily, @ensnaredinwonderland, @bubblyabs, @green-lxght, @cheerbaitromanjosi, @billiesbeans, @hufflepuff1700, @asumofwords, @angelheavensblog, @natashaobo, @zavriocibrouku, @tssf-imagines, @delilah92590, @shit-posts420, @evattude, @heyykarolina, @brie-annwyl, @wondergal2001, @herondale-girl7, @teteminne, @euphoriahoesss, @mercedesdecorazon,

BOLD MEANS I COULD NOT TAG

1K notes · View notes

raz-writes-the-thing · 1 month

Text

Gaze of the Moon (HOTD One-Shot)

Rhaenyra Targaryen x GN!Reader / requests are open

Summary: You and your wife, the Princess Rhaenyra steal a moment of peace together as you prepare for the coming birth of your child.

Fic type: fluff, romance, reflection

A/N: I had intended for this to be fem!reader x Rhaenyra but it wound up GN. This is also for @hotd-bigbang's March 11th prompt.

HOTD: (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Did you know of that tale?" You asked softly, brushing your wife's hair back behind her ear as she lay against you in the moonlight. "About the second moon who cracked open from the heat of the sun and let the dragons out?"

Your wife let out a deep breath, the back of her skull pressing into your shoulder as she leaned back against you to peer out at the sky- up at the full moon above. She was gorgeous tonight. Radiant, round- both wife and moon.

The silver rays caught in Rhaenyra's loose hair, free tonight from tight braids and silk ribbons. The way you knew she preferred it. She'd been a wild child who'd grown into a proper lady, though you knew she yearned for the freedom of manhood. If she were a man, things would be easier. You both knew this but didn't care to dwell on it. There was no changing what was.

Rhaenyra hummed, eyes catching in the moon's gaze.

"I'm sure I remember my father telling me such a story once," she affirmed softly, lip twitching ever-so-slightly into the ghost of a smile. Your wife spent so much time stone-faced under the watchful eyes of the court vultures that even in the privacy of your own quarters she sometimes had trouble letting the cracks through. You treasured each of them like jewels as they deserved to be. "I used to stay up late into the eve and watch the moon- waiting for her to split and for the night to grow dark save for the fire of dragon's breath,' she admitted, eyes drawing closed as she thought on the memories.

"Perhaps one day, my dear wife," you said, pressing a kiss to her head before allowing your own to lean back against the cold, stone wall behind you. "Tell me, what is High Valyrian for 'moon'?"

You'd been learning her family's language for some time now, and you were certainly getting there. It was just that you preferred to hear the words from Rhaenyra's tongue. And truly, who could blame you when her voice had such royal lilt? Her voice was a balm for the mind. Or your mind, at the very least. You could listen to her speak for an age and then some.

"Hūra," Rhaenyra replied, a soft knowing smirk on her lips. You repeated it back to her, testing the syllables on your tongue. You liked the way it sounded, the way it felt. You reached a hand around her to brush over her swollen belly, round with child.

"If we have a daughter," you said thoughtfully, "Hūra is a nice name, do you not think?" Your fingers danced over her belly, and you both let out a laugh when you felt the babe kick from within her. Rhaenyra's hand joined yours, squeezing comfortingly. You hastily added, "It is not a traditional name, but I like it."

"Princess Hūra Targaryen," Rhaenrya breathed, opening her eyes to peer at her belly. "It does have a ring to it," she agreed, "and if the little one's restlessness is anything to speak of, the babe likes it, too."

You both lapsed into silence for a while, enjoying the light of the moon, the glint of the stars and the sounds of the night. It was quiet at this hour. Your favourite hour. What else could you possibly want for than this? A loving wife in your arms, a babe on the way, a flask of wine to share and the gaze of the moon on you?

"I suppose it is only fair you get to name one of our children," she said after a while. You'd almost thought her asleep in your arms with how quiet she'd been. "Why not the first. Get it out of the way, hmm?" She teased. "What if the babe is a boy?"

You chuckled softly, flicking at her arm in reply to her jape.

"Thank you, wife. Your generosity knows no bounds. I do not think the bairn is a boy, but if he is, I am quite fond of Vēzos. Best keep with the theme."

"One has to wonder where this sudden passion for celestial names has come from, my love," Rhaenyra mused. "Perhaps we will have twins. The Maester did say it was a possibility. Hūna and Vēzos. Moon and Sun-" Rhaenyra shifted uncomfortably as the babe wriggled under her skin. "I like it."

"Strong names," you added, brushing your fingers through her hair softly, aiming to detangle the few knots that caught in your fingers. "Compassionate names. Perfect for bairns destined for greatness."

You suddenly found yourself hoping for twins. A boy and a girl. Siblings to grow up together and protect each other from the horrors that lay dormant in the realm. You could picture them, age three or perhaps four, playing hide and seek in the gardens. Ages ten and four by their mothers' side on the throne. Ages nine and ten crowned joint heirs to the throne. Ages four and thirty sitting side by side on the throne. Ruling, together. Sun and Moon, over their kingdom. Their birth-right. Protecting each other and keeping each other in check. What was best for the kingdom.

The thought filled you with pride. Oh, yes, you hoped for twins. It wouldn't be long now until Rhaenyra was due. Within a month, most likely. It was part of the reason you both were staying up late at night and enjoying the peace. Once Rhaenyra commenced and completed her labours, there wouldn't be much room for peace and quiet.

And yet, you couldn't wait. You didn't like the thought of your lady-wife in pain, but the thought of your quiet chambers filled with the sounds of a babe or two growing big and strong was perhaps motivating enough for you to bear the thought of her pain. You'd be by her side no matter what, of course. Fuck the Maesters and midwives. This was your wife, your babe. You would be there to support her until she asked you to leave.

"We should retire to bed," Rhaenyra broke your thoughts as she began shifting to stand. "We both need our rest for the day to come. I believe we are making arrangements for catering after the birth."

Ah, yes. The feast the King was insisting upon for the birth of his Grand-Sire. As the birth grew closer, more plans needed to be set. Catering, colours, floral arrangements, gifts for the babe. So many things that Rhaenyra and yourself were set to arrange. You may have enjoyed setting the festivities up, but Rhaenyra would be more than happy to sit out if she could.

You hadn't told Rhaenyra yet, but you'd made arrangements with the cooks to send for the ingredients to make Rhaenyra's favourite sweets. Ones she had not had since she were near a babe herself. The rest of the food, however, you both needed to settle on. A job for tomorrow, quite clearly.

You supported her as she stood, following behind. You stretched out the muscles in your arms and legs, creaking with complaint. You could only imagine how Rhaenyra felt. You left the balcony door open to the bedchambers as you helped your wife shift out of her gown.

Once she was settled into the sheets, Rhaenyra let out a sigh of relief. The bed took the weight off her body and allowed her to settle in. You followed, pressing up against her back to keep her warm against the slight chill of the night.

Rhaenyra took your hand and rested it against her belly. You felt any of your remaining troubles melt away for the moment and pressed a kiss to the back of Rhaenyra's neck.

"Good night, my love," you whispered softly, rubbing your thumb over the silky material of her nightdress. "Sleep well, little one."

You drifted off to the sound of Rhaenyra's soft breathing and the quiet chatter of insects out in the gardens below your balcony, dreaming of the bairns to come, and a life well lived.

238 notes · View notes

darlingofvalyria · 8 months

Text

❝Daemon doesn't know what to do with you.❞

[ Never piss off your wife. She might acquire a living, breathing punishment for you. Aka, Daemon made a mistake and you're his punishment ft. Rhaenyra stay winning. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 1,985 ] | Daemyra x Sugar Baby!Reader

contains— sugar mommy x sugar baby, open relationship/understandings, toxic relationship??? allusions of cheating, established realtionship - nsfw: oral, p & v sex, v & v sex, pet names mainly: darling, sweet girl, good girl, praise, male masturbation shshhs - you piss the shit outta daemon (as you should), slight angst? - sort of daemon-focused since it's in his pov, but rhae's the only one allowed to touch you lol - no targcest bc its the modern world and that would be weird.

a/n— i dont want to talk about it, okay. comment/reblog/like at will ❤️️

Daemon doesn't know what to do with you.

With your soft noises encouraged to heighten in pleasure whenever Rhaenyra had you over- and after initial test drive of the first few times, stretched in months to weeks to days - she had you over all the time, at random times of the day. Any time the boys or his girls weren't by (being taken care of in the park, Harwin or Laena's visitation rights, Rhaenys wanting to take them off for Corlys weekend fishing trips)- your mewls turned unbridled shouts of pleasure now filled the high-rise.

You permeate the space like a cigarette stain; you didn't even need to be godsdamned present anymore. It starts with your perfume- it's lighter than Rhaenyra's but heavier in sweetness. Vanille. A touch of it that he's foul to recognise. Lipstick stains on his wife's neck, her blouse, where he can imagine your lips drag and bite and suckle because the kids are too young to understand and it's not like he's not one to leave his own marks, but there's a thunderous boil that drums in his veins when he realises you're leaving your own on his wife.

You fill the nooks and crannies like a plague, and you don't even care about him.

Worse, you taunt him.

And it's not like he could say anything to Nyra.

After all, the two of them had an understanding after he got caught with a minor dalliance of his own. It was a one time thing, and he only got blown, but it was enough for a talking to. A mutual agreement that was really just him pacifying his wife.

He really should have focused on the crooks of how upset she had been, on the gleam in her eyes when he thought she had simmered down. That her fire, though not as brightly lit, was still very much burning.

"You can have any sweet thing that you want, husband, as long as you keep them away from the kids. As long as you keep it quiet and away from me. I do not want the details." Nyra's mouth had curled. He remembered. She took up the space behind him, wine-kissed as she was, her fingers dancing on his shoulders and kneading at the tough centre of the nape of his neck. His eyelids fluttered and he barely heard her next words.

"In return, you will not make a fuss when I take mine, hm?"

Daemon had laughed. He remembered that. A soft, more air than sound laugh.

He took her hand to his lips and smirked up at her. Shark-like. Baiting. Daring. "As you wish, wife. In return, you can tell me all about it."

There was a strong part of Daemon that didn't think she'd actually do it.

Rhaenyra had smiled that smile that reminded him of godswoods and Valyrian necklaces, passed down from generation after generation. A silent vow louder drew from blood.

There was a strong part of Daemon who thought his wife was jesting, making a bluff, a toss of a coin.

Until you arrived with a sweet smile and a tinkling little laugh.

Until he had found his wife with her face buried between your legs, your hands— freshly done nails and glimmering rings, new, he later found out from the bank transcripts — and your back arched, your mouth gaping in a silent scream as you come undone.

It took a minute for you to see him, so stuck in that pleasure that broke and free-fell through you several times because 'Nyra didn't want to let up, calling you her sweet girl, her darling girl, that's it, you can take more, can you? aren't you my good girl?

When your thick lashed-eyes finally met his darkened lilac gaze, lipstick still perfect red, still perfectly plump and moist, your mouth curls into a charming little smile and said, "Oh, hello there."

Rhaenyra looked up, and at the smirk on her face, your spend all around her ruined lipstick and chin— Daemon knew she wanted him to see. Wanted him to know. It's a bullet shot down his spine, straight to his cock. It's a cold thrill and grasped fingers around his throat with rings nestled to make indents.

It's a violent blend of jealousy and lust, and the cocktail emotion rages in him, swirls and punctures.

There is a bite between Rhaenyra and Daemon, a fiery edge that often saunters the edges, crosses a new line. But each time, after each rough push, they come back to one another; a tether of becoming, of pulling taunt. Once again united. They are assured in each other's positions; you can play with anyone but you always come back to me.

Rhaenyra has won this one. She had snapped, pulled, and arose victorious.

But they always come together. And often, enjoyed sharing.

What Daemon forgets sometimes is that he is a younger brother, and really, Rhaenyra was the eldest and the sole eye of her father. When righteous selfishness burns with a petty need to make her husband suffer, it heels hard.

"She is mine, husband," she whispers at the edge of his lips, riding him through a slick, sex-haze after you had left. Her thighs slap against his own, his hands harsh on the indents of her waist as she rode him with no abandon, uncaring for his pleasure this time, selfishness the game this time, but the renewed roughness brought him to the early days of their marriage. That unbridled want, a clash of teeth and skin and raw, burning lust.

There is a growl and a hiss, a moan and a gasp; blood has beaded through bitten flesh and bruises are blooming. This is fucking from the high of a third party dancing on their marriage.

And Rhaenyra's refusal of you to him made him throb.

She had seen him high-strung, plotted him to be harder than a box of rocks, already harshly yanking his tie in anticipation of having his wife and you with your fox gazes and sire song, but Rhaenyra had turned away from him, ignored him, and slapped your thigh before kissing your cheek.

"Come back next time, darling, my husband is home." It was said in a tease, a lighthearted joke between two people he was not a part of, but he knew his wife; recognised the bite. The smugness.

And by god, you were in on it as you thrilled a laugh and slid your gaze to his, undressing and fucking him with your eyes as you bit your lip. Your words are to Rhae, a hand on her cheek and a thumb rubbing at the corner of her lip, but your gaze is devouring him. He wasn't a green boy, but you seemed amused and feral for the hard-line of his manhood. As if you can picture what he would feel like buried deep inside your guts, and enjoyed it.

"Am I just going to be yours then, hm?" you asked amusedly, finally turning to her.

Nyra turned her gaze then, to him, and smirked. "You, I will not share. A fitting punishment, don't you think? Some jewels are meant for one alone."

And you had laughed, the gall of you, taking your bag (new one too,a matching one with his wife) and walking right past him. Your scent- his wife's fucking scent, the smell of her cunt on you and his dick throbbed - devoured him as you left him with a wink and a quiet, "too bad."

You had not even gone inside the elevator of their penthouse before a growl tore through his chest and he had met Rhaenyra's thundering footsteps with his own, their tongues and teeth clashing for dominance, ripping apart clothes, wanting to bury each other in the other's skin.

Now, she reaches her peak with a yell and a full body shudder, her cunt clenching and squeezing, demanding his release, and he jolts with her with a swear of his own, his cum flooding her in thick, sharp bursts.

Even then, as Rhae smiled sweetly, post-peak glow simpering her fire, sweetening her kisses against the side of his face, his neck, running a tongue over the worst of the bruises and bites— Daemon thought, surely, now that his wife had reached post-coital bliss and forgiven him, punishment had been had? That he was free to have you, to play with you?

But no. You were off limits. Hers and hers alone. A punishment that keeps on giving as the echoes of you exist in his life in patterns he was starting to fucking loath.

The scent in the bath- the echo of the warmth of someone having used it recently, someone who wasn't his wife, in the pillows of his living room, the barest smudge of makeup as if your face had been pushed against them. In the snacks and drinks that he, nor his wife, nor their children, particularly like, fill up the corners of his kitchen. The lipstick stains on his wife, the running mill in the bank statements (the new necklaces, new dresses, new fucking lingerie he hasn't seen), and when he had finally had enough, shoving through his own house to talk to his wife that the least she could do while she was fucking you was be allowed to be there, he hears it then—

Your shouts of pleasure falling into sighs into giggles, and when he slows to his marital bedroom, you are there— breathing heavily, alive, real— naked and slicked, a goddess divine, with Rhaenyra inside you in more ways than one, baring her teeth in a victorious grin before falling into a laugh at his face.

"Am I allowed to have him now, is that it?" you ask, seemingly innocent. One of the new necklaces in his statements on your neck and nothing else. Chest moving in shuddering breath having just orgasmed and yelling it.

"Your choice, sweet girl," Rhae purrs, leaning back over your form to run a finger from the valley of your breasts to your stomach to your clit that turns your shudders to an outright jolt, then a sigh, when she starts fingering you in front of him. The squelch is obscene, and Daemon is hard, and he is not a fucking boy but he is starting to hate you as much as he wants to fuck the lazy smirk on your face, pleasure so obviously building once again. Soft sighs, mewls, escaping full, raw lips.

"I kind of... want him to watch a little. Just- ah! Nyra there, please - sit still and pretty." You smirk, giving him a pouty air kiss. The urge to strangle you sings in his blood. Hold you down and fuck you until you're better pliant, sweeter, fucking cooing for him. Fuck the spoil Rhaenyra has ingrained in you away.

You turn to the silver-haired woman on top of you, now on her haunches, pressing a gentle kiss to your clit. She held his gaze as she pressed her tongue flat against before taking a glorious, heavy-gazed lick.

Daemon swallows.

"Is that- ahhh, okay? Nyra, hmm? Please?" You sigh ever so sweetly, kindly. Though you're ridiculously spoiled, you were a good girl, following so obediently. If his cock didn't feel like it was burning to be inside your mouth, he would have revelled in it.

You squirm, turning back to him to hold his gaze while his wife started to fuck you through her tongue and fingers.

Someone up there was taking a piss on him. He pulls out his cock, a grunt and a curse, because fuck it, fuck you in particular— as the two of you continued on while keeping eye contact with him.

He took one step closer and Rhaenyra hissed.

"Whatever you want, baby." Nyra smirks against your pussy as he tugged at himself, teeth bared. "You're his punishment after all."

#hotd smut #daemon targaryen x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #daemyra #daemyra smut #daemon x you #daemon x reader #rhaenyra x you #daemon x rhaenyra #rhaenyra x reader #daemon targaryen smut #rhaenyra targaryen smut #hotd modern au #hotd x reader #daemon fanfic #daemyra fanfic #elle writes !! ꒱ ↷˗ˏˋ🍒

915 notes · View notes

arabellasleopardcoat · 9 months

Text

Three-headed dragon (Rhaenyra Targaryen x reader)

Summary: Three times Rhaenyra marked you, and one time you did too. Or snippets of the love story I so wanted to tell but didn’t feel confident enough to write.

Warnings: Implied smut. Dance of the dragons. Canon character death (Not Rhaenyra)

Rquested: Yes!

A/N: I have not read the books, and I have only gotten one hickey in my life. I hope my ability to describe it's alright. Ignore the bra and the hegemonic body in the first picture, it's for the vibes.

“How many years have you spent by my side?” Rhaenyra asks, as you fix her hair in the mirror. It’s an important day, even if none of you know it at the time. It’s early. Her husband is off somewhere, no longer sleeping in the same bed as her. She is too pregnant, she jokes. You doubt it. You have long wondered what her relationship with Prince Daemon is. Are they star crossed lovers, who finally get their happy ending? Are they Uncle and Niece, married out of political convenience? You can’t tell.

You know which one you prefer, though. It must be kept secret, this deep-seated, long-lasting admiration for your Princess. You have been through it all, together. Youth, marriages, motherhood, widowhood. Ruining it now, with your feelings, would be foolish.

“Since we were sixteen.” You place different ribbons over her hair, testing, draping. It’s not your job, technically. You are a noblewoman in your own right, not supposed to be here on Dragonstone, but back in the North, where your long deceased husband’s bones rest.

Not meant for marriage, and ready to start your career as a Septa, you had found yourself as a companion to a much younger Rhaenyra. She had secured, in an admirable move, a marriage by proxy with some old lord. You had not even managed to reach the North when he had passed, leaving you as the sole heir to a small castle close to the Boltons.

With such undesirable neighbors, and the news that your Lord Husband was dead, you had decided to come back into Rhaenyra’s service. Her companion through childhood, now by her side during the trials of adulthood.

“Sixteen. Such a long time.” Rhaenyra squeezed your hand, eyes meeting yours in the mirror. “Served loyally and never asking for anything in return.”

“Only your friendship.” Your love, you wanted to scream. Your love, for you to see me, since I am still here and I want you. Don’t you see how much it has hurt me, when I am yours, yours, and you were Criston’s, then- -

But you say nothing of the sort. Not wanting to ever risk what you had. Love is selfless, you remind yourself. You can’t have her, nor can you own her. Rhaenyra is the Seven Kingdoms, Aegon’s Crown. You cannot hope to own her or rule her. The Iron Throne, as everyone knows, was not made for a woman.

“You are not my friend,” Rhaenyra says, and the shock must show on your face because she laughs. Silver bells filling the room, the laughter of a golden Princess. “You are family, by this point. Haven’t you cared for the boys as if they were yours?”

And it’s true. You have loved those children because they are half her. You have been the preferred aunt, the accomplice, and the one to teach them things as important as the proper way to hold a quill. As the saying goes, it takes a village. The children are your combined efforts, alongside hers, Daemon’s and Harwin’s.

“You are as much a mother to them as I am.” Yours. Rhaenyra is saying the boys are as much hers as they are yours. “I have been thinking.”

You are so grateful for it, you could cry. But that’s not why Rhaenyra likes you.

“Oh? You are capable of it? We must inform the Maesters.”

Rhaenyra laughs.

“More respect for your future Queen.” She tries putting on a scolding expression, but is unable to keep her face straight.

“Oh, your majesty! I never meant to offend?” You give her a mock curtsy, and she giggles a bit more. You love her like this, you have come to realize. Rhaenyra is a woman of many flaws, even as a mother. She has grown into something larger than life, a presence that commands rooms yet manages to remain full of love to give.

“Stop it, you,” Rhaenyra complains. “I’m trying to do something here. Have a gesture.”

You sober up, a smile still tugging at your lips.

“I was thinking perhaps you should start wearing my house colors. And before you say anything, I mean it as an order. I already had you made three new gowns.”

You open and close your mouth a few times.

“Dragon got your tongue?” She teases, cradling her belly.

“Rhaenyra… I… Too much?” Because you are not sure what she is saying, but definitely she is not calling you sister. She would say it plainly, your Rhaenyra. That she is telling you to wear her house colors… That’s what men do. To their wives.

“It’s what you deserve.”

She is informed of her father’s death that day. The only person she allows in the room with her, as she loses baby Visenya, is you. From woman to woman. No one else gets to glimpse the fragile human who lives inside the dragon, not even Daemon.

You declare war dressed in black and red.

The Black Council is filled with fools, despite the support they show to Rhaenyra. You know it. She knows it. That’s why it doesn’t come as a surprise to you when you go to step inside the war room, and a guard bars the entrance with his lance. You have been expecting this moment. Dreading it, even. It was bound to happen.

“I am sorry, my Lady, but you are not allowed inside. Orders of the Prince consort.” Of course. Of course it's Daemon. Despite expecting it, you can’t help but be surprised at his boldness.

You don’t wish to make a scene. You truly don’t. But it scares you more than you thought it would. First, you will be banned from rooms. Then, dismissed, if not outright executed. This day had to come, you knew. Everyone had family on the other side of the war, with all the noble houses having intermarried at least once.

In the years to come, the conflict will be known as one that teared brother from brother. You don’t know this, you will not live to see it. Yet, it rattles in your bones.

“What? Prince Daemon?” You ask a little too loud. It attracts the attention of some other people in the hallway, including Rhaenyra who is just arriving. She looks more regal than ever in a black gown that compliments her pale skin.

Whispers start to break out among the gathered, surely reminding your heritage. Everyone is waiting to enter the war room, and the lance the guard has extended across the doorway is certainly drawing attention.

“What’s going on here?” Rhaenyra asks, placing a hand on your lower back and eyeing the guard with suspicion. The man lowers his head.

“My Queen, Prince Daemon has said…” He starts to explain, but Rhaenyra silences him with a dismissive wave of the hand. Ashamed, you lower your eyes.

“I do not care what he has said.”

“He has prohibited the Lady from entering…” The guard argues. Next to you, Rhaenyra tenses. You know he has already angered her, daring to speak above her like that.

“Is Prince Daemon King? Does he wear the crown?” She asks him, fiercely. The guard, wisely, keeps quiet. “She is my right hand. I will not suffer to see her disrespected.”

And with that, Rhaenyra moves the lance aside with a brush of her hand, leading you inside by the small of your back.

At the table, Daemon stands, moving some pieces along the map of Westeros. His back is to you, but he turns as he hears the commotion that precedes your arrival. A smug little smirk is on his lips, as he sees your discomfort.

“What are you…?” Daemon says, when he processes that you are, in fact, inside the room he had banned you from. Then, he notices Rhaenyra. “Ah.”

He squares his shoulders, getting ready for a fight. You try to pull away from Rhaenyra, but the hand on your back turns into claws, grasping at your dress to keep you right where you are.

“Why did you order the guards to not let her inside?” Rhaenyra speaks in a tone that leaves no room for argument. Daemon has to answer her or else. It’s a tone you had heard frequently when she tries to reign her sons in.

“Because I thought she didn’t belong in the war room, my Queen.” Daemon saunters towards you, no doubt trying to intimidate you. You lift your chin defiantly. Usually, you two avoid each other’s path. He resents your position in Rhaenyra's life, as her most trusted council. You resent that he gets to share her bed.

“You gave a ridiculous order.” Rhaenyra argues, rubbing your lower back in soothing circles, as if you were a spooked horse.

“Not so ridiculous. We have known for a long time there is a spy. Why should it not be your pet?”

“I am not! You truly think I would do something as vile?” Desperate and feeling powerless, you turn towards Rhaenyra. For a second, you truly think she might believe him. It’s the scariest second of your life. Losing her in a trap set up by Daemon? You hope she can see how genuine the next words you speak are. “I would never endanger the children, never endanger you!”

“I know.” Rhaenyra says, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I know.”

“Come on. Her family is as green as they come.” Daemon raises his hands in the air, as if asking for patience to the Seven Heavens.

“My family is here.” You say, firmly. “Jace, Luke, Joffrey, Viserys, Aegon…”

“So you say. But they are not your family, are they?” It feels as if Daemon has burned you. Nothing has hurt you more. Not even the accusations about you being a spy, or the time you thought you would have to leave Rhaenyra to marry some Lord in the North.

You have spent all your life next to her. All your best years. Now, you are an old spinster, despite being barely thirty. You have always wanted children, like any noble lady in Westeros. It was too late for it now. No lord would want a widow past her prime.

Yet, you have always thought that the void the lack of children of your own had left could be filled by Rhaenyra’s boys. Secretly, you thought yourself a mother already. What else could you be, when your name had been Jace’s first word? When you were the one holding Luke’s hands as he learned to walk?

Daemon wasn’t saying it openly, but it was clear that was what he meant. Rhaenyra’s children were not yours. As they had not been Harwin’s.

“They are!” Rhaenyra insists, but you are barely hearing it. The thought of it has left you too distraught to care about whatever you are discussing. It feels as if your heart is being carved out of your chest. Were Daemon about to suggest executing you for treason, you doubt you would worry. How could you, when it feels as if he has gutted you already? “We are. She is family. And I will hear no more of this matter.”

Her hand curves possessively around your waist. A claim, for everyone to see. You lean into her, shell shocked by it all.

But Daemon isn’t about to let this go. He pulls out a crumpled piece of parchment from his pocket, one you recognize too well. You slump in defeat, despite Rhaenyra’s hands urging you to stay upright.

Daemon clears his throat, dramatically.

“And I fear your time with the Princess.” He stresses the last word, making a long pause. You close your eyes, and keep them closed tight. “Has come to an end. I urge you to come back to the Stormlands, where no harm shall befall you. For King Aegon is the most merciful when the misguided sheep comes back to the herd.” Daemon crumples the paper, and throws it to the floor. You wince. “Nothing to say?”

You shake your head.

“Daemon…” Rhaenyra warns, arm around your waist turning into a vice-like grip. You do not understand it, then. It will be a long time before you do.

“Did or did not your father write that?” He whispers, dangerously.

“He did.” You answer, in a voice so small it’s nearly inaudible. Daemon slams his hand on the table, making you jump, and struts out of the room.

You start to sob, quietly. This is it. Rhaenyra is going to dismiss you from her service. It’s true that your father has been urging you to come back home, stating that you would be protected. Begging you, even. Promising all sorts of things, from freedom, to riches, to a husband, to becoming the wife of a Prince. That’s his level of desperation.

It’s unlike him, to worry so much. But you know part of it is not just fatherly affection and genuine concern for your well-being. No. Taking you from Rhaenyra’s side would be the greatest hit the Blacks could take. Lately, you are one of the few things keeping the Queen calm and tethered to reality. You love her, but ever since Luke passed, Rhaenyra has turned almost unrecognizable. She is paranoid and harsh in ways you had never seen before. Crueler. More Targaryen than usual.

And not only that. You hold an unusual amount of information inside your head. Battle plans, supply chains, locations. Everything that has been the key to the Black’s success so far, you know. The information is too valuable to pass on. If you were to turn to the Greens, you would have to share it, be it voluntarily or forcibly. You are not foolish enough to not know it.

“Breathe, darling.” Rhaenyra cradles your face between her hands. “It's alright. I know you would never betray me. Breathe.” She exaggerates her breathing, placing your hand on her chest. It’s only then you realize you have started to hyperventilate. She pulls you into her, hugging you. On the doorstep, Daemon watches.

You don’t know what has gotten into her. Never has she touched you like this. It’s not the first time you kissed. You had both been sixteen and curious, once. But it had not gone further than learning how to kiss another person without it being gross. Because that was what friends were for. Obviously.

She smells like soot and blood. It’s clear she has rushed to your side, not even taking time to change after the battle. You wonder who she killed, this time. What city has she burned, how many of the small folk she and Daemon have doomed?

“I thought… When they said there were revolts on the road….” And her mouth is yours, and you can’t think because you want her so bad you aren't concerned about the consequences. Half the Kingdom is against you, already. You are considered traitors on one side, she is the Queen on the other. What does it matter, really, that it’s called a sin? You will die anyway.

“You are mine. Please. Say it to me, love.” Rhaenyra pleads, kissing your jaw. She looks so gorgeous in armor, you feel like you might die any time you glance her way. And now, you get to have her. It’s intoxicating, having all that power at your fingertips. A goddess come to life, set on claiming you, you and only you.

“I am yours.” You say, kissing her brow. You won’t question it. Not when you are so close to getting your darkest fantasies come true. “I have always been.”

“Mine.” Rhaenyra kisses the hollow of your throat. “You are mine.”

She grabs your hand, pulling you towards a chair. The room you are in is not yours, nor hers. Neither of you care, too desperate for each other. Rhaenyra doesn’t care that her blood soaked armor is staining someone’s chair. You don’t care that your dress is getting thrown around someone's room. Just in your chemise, she pulls you into her lap.

It will have to be burned, after this. There is no way you will be able to salvage the white cotton shift after straddling her lap. The blood sticks the two of you together, but you are too joyous to care.

“I love you.” You say to her, as she bites down on the column of your throat, harshly. Still a little bloodthirsty.

A beat of silence. Have you ruined things before they truly began?

“I love you too.” Rhaenyra says, as she kisses your collarbones. “I love you, and you are mine.”

“All yours.” You answer, breathlessly. Purple flowers blooming across your collarbones, a red angry rose right by your ear. Her bloodstained hands leaving marks upon your arms.

“Yours, yours, yours.” You moan as someone clinging to a lifeline.

“All mine, all mine, all mine.” She answers back.

A bite where your shoulder meets your neck. It’s painful, stinging, your vision blurring into soft flashes of orange and red.

“Just take it for me, please. Please, sweet girl.” Rhaenyra sucks another bruise on your skin. Deep lilac that will bloom into soft green. “I need this. I need them to know you are mine, even if we can’t tell them.”

You pant. There is a certain pleasure to it, being kissed with the barest hint of teeth. But it’s more than just the kisses, what has you panting in arousal. It’s the way she treats your body as her own personal canvas. As if you were a precious artwork Rhaenyra is bringing to life with her kisses.

A maroon chrysanthemum, just over your collarbones. Front and center, the bruise blooms. Her hand, holding your jaw still for the softest torture.

You are uncertain if she is doing it out of fear, trying to make sure you are still there. If she is a bit sadistic, in the way Targaryens are. Or if this is simple, raw reassurance that you are willing to do anything she asks. You save the wondering for later, though. At the moment, you are too busy breaking down under the talented mouth of your Princess.

You don’t want to be separated from her. You know, you know, that something bad is about to happen. Some nights, you wake up, choked up in a bad feeling. You barely recognize her anymore.

Luke’s death had devastated everyone. You thought, after that, never again would you know such pain. You were mistaken. In the months to come, it was as if the children were falling as flies. Everywhere you looked. Jace, Joffrey, Viserys. And through it all, you had been by her side.

Rhaenyra has transformed into something that’s equally beautiful and terrifying. Far more determined and possessive, love harsher and unwilling to let go. Desperation does funny things to women.

As children, your love had been more pure. Untainted but also untested. Your innocence had been lost long ago. But a love that was not pure didn’t mean a love that meant less. it just meant it had grown and changed, as things often did.

Rhaenyra’s heart was not what it used to be when you two were younger. No longer filled with dreams of cake and laughter. But you weren’t the same girl, either.

Before, you had felt the urge to mark her and settled for being marked instead. You had told yourself you were not allowed to have her, that she was Laenor’s, Harwin’s, Daemon’s. And each and each time, you pulled back, curling into yourself. No more. It was not enough, to be hers. No. It was not enough to be owned. You had so little now, you wanted everyone to know she was yours as you were hers.

“Rhaenyra.” You ask her, as she pushes you down to your knees, tossing and turning in the sheets. “Rhaenyra.” As your teeth bruise her thighs, as you bring her over the edge over and over again.

“Darling. Love. Come here.” And you want to sob because it’s not enough. You want her to be yours. You want her to be yours, so you can drag her and the kids away from this madness, far away to a land where the war won’t touch you. Where there is no Iron Throne to destroy the family you have built little by little.

She will never go. Not even after all the boys die. Not even after Daemon is dead, in an incident that’s half an attempt to escape her, half a suicide mission. You have no other choice but to remain by her side, too far in to do otherwise.

Leaving is giving up. Leaving is losing. Leaving is renouncing the Iron Throne, her birthright. She will never go. Rhaenyra would rather tear the realm apart than save herself, and it terrifies you.

What terrifies you more is the fact that despite all the grief, all the pain, you do not regret loving her. You just regret not loving her in the way she deserves, in the way she has been asking for. The clothes, the hands, the bruises. Only now do you realize Rhaenyra has been trying to mark you, claim you. And it’s like you two are finally speaking the same language.

“Promise me.” You whisper against her hair, as you lay in bed together. “Promise you will never take this off.” And you are slipping her a silly thing, a medal of the Mother you always carry with you for protection. It’s not exactly your house’s jewelry, or your cloak, as a man would give to a wife.

Rhaenyra laughs. She finds your devotion to the Faith of the Seven silly. But she gets it, anyway. She puts the medal on, close to her heart.

You loved her differently now. No longer your silver Princess, your childhood companion. In your chest, curling around your heart, a dark possessive thread rests, tying you to her. Finally, you meet her in the middle.

Rhaenyra has always loved you like certain things are meant to be loved. In secrecy. In the dark. Not of her own will, but yours. Rhaenyra didn’t care what others thought. She had been so bold before, trying to get you to step in the light for once. You had not realized it at the time, you had not been ready. You had worried too much.

And now, with no time to worry left, with death threatening your doorstep, you realize exactly what you were missing out on. Every time she walks away, chain glistening between her breasts, you get a secret thrill. She is yours. You know it. It’s your mark Rhaenyra wears close to her heart.

#rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rhaenyra x you #rhaenyra x oc #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra x fem!reader #rhaenyra targaryen fanfic #hotd fanfic #rhaenyra targaryen smut #rhaenyra smut #rhaenyra #rhaenyra targeryan #rhaenyra the cruel #queen rhaenyra

569 notes · View notes

gtgbabie0 · 7 months

Text

Rainy mornings

{You and Rhaenyra enjoy a peaceful morning together}

Hope you enjoy my lovelies!! 💕

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

It’s raining almost constantly on Dragonstone something you have come to love as time goes on. Especially in these moments when you wake up beside your beloved wife, her soft, white hair falling out of her once neat braid.

The back of her hand grazes against your cheek gently as you slowly begin to stir from your sleep. She props herself up on her elbow as she looks down at you with kind eyes, full of love and there's something about the warmth of the moment that seems to protect you from the harsh morning winds that whistle through the castle.

“Good morning my sweet girl” she smiles, keeping a hushed tone as she leans down to press a kiss to your cheek. Her hands soothe against the curve of your bare hip as he continues to press light kisses along your jaw smiling against you when you let out a small delighted sigh.

Rhaenyra watches as you rub your eyes, a yawn escaping your lips and she can’t help but let out a breathy giggle at the sight, but who could blame her? When her beautiful wife, lays naked beneath the white sheets, bathed in the morning sun as it rises. The happiness that blooms within her chest escapes her through soft giggles.

“Did you sleep well, my dear?” You ask, voice still laced with sleep. A gentle hand reaches up to brush away the hair that frames her face pushing it behind her ear, the back of your fingers grazing against her cheek.

“I always sleep well beside you,” she responds voice just above a whisper, before dropping a kiss to your shoulder. You shuffle closer to her, bringing the sheets with you as you rest your head against her chest. Rhaenyra traces her fingertips along your spine leaving goosebumps in their wake and the sensation only makes you nuzzle into her neck further, seeking out her warmth.

“Breakfast should be here soon so don’t go back to sleep my love” she whispers against your forehead, pressing her lips to your hairline as her hands still work their way up and down your back, enjoying the way your body feels against hers.

The familiar heavy sensation weighs against you, and you fight so hard to keep your eyes open, but the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks and the way Rhaenyra's hands feel against your body makes it really hard.

“You’re certainly not making it easy,” you tell her with a soft chuckle.

Before she can defend herself there’s a knock at the door, and a voice from the other side, “Breakfast m’lady”

She pulls the sheets over your shoulders to cover your modesty before telling the maid to enter. She leaves two silver trays, full of warm pastries and fruit, on top of the stone table that sits at the end of the bed before leaving with a curt bow wishing the pair of you a pleasant morning.

“Come on my sweet girl, let us eat,” she says, watching as you move away from your very comfortable position, and suddenly she’s left very aware of just how cold it is. You sit with your back against the headboard, robe wrapped tightly around your body as a gust of wind pushes through the room.

“Eating in bed are we?” She smiles at the tired nod you give her in response.

“Yes, because you love me dearly and it is simply far too cold,” you tell her as she brings the trays over to the bed placing them down on the mattress carefully before sitting back down next to you, and as if out of instinct you lean closer to her searching for her warmth yet again.

“I do, I love you more than words could ever express,” she says with such sincerity that it leaves you breathless and it certainly doesn’t help when he presses a loving kiss to your lips, her hand caressing your cheek ever so gently.

The pair of you indulge in the food, feeding each other the different fruits and sweet pastries and Rhaenyra can’t help but admire your beauty, the way you seem to practically glow under the morning sun as a smile embraces your beautiful features. She truly loves you, even if you’re leaving crumbs on the bed.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

236 notes · View notes

valleyof-goldenlilies · 4 months

Text

The Fuss About the Christmas Gala - Modern! Rhaenyra Targaryen x Reader

Summary: Rhaenyra faces a small crisis regarding the planning of the Targaryen Corporation's gala.

Pairing: Modern! Rhaenyra Targaryen x Fem! Reader

Warnings: profanity, angst, slight talks of Rhaenyra self harming (biting her fingernails), fingering, lots of kissing, mentions of dom Rhaenyra, slight dom reader

Word Count: 2.3k words

A/N: hoe hoe hoe! a very merry late Christmas and Happy New Year in advance from me to you :) this is for all the Rhaenyra girlies out there! I hope you enjoy :)

lovely dividers credited to @firefly-graphics !

If there was one word that was the antithesis of Rhaenyra Targaryen right now, it would be the word calm.

For two days now, you had watched your girlfriend rush about like a madman caught up in a whirlwind. Unsure of what to do, you usually just sat on the couch, concernedly sipping a glass of water as you watched your girlfriend work herself to death.

Today was no different, and the stress had only multiplied by a dozen. Since the Targaryen Christmas Gala was this weekend, Rhaenyra was rushing around, calling up caterers, decorators, florists, to make sure that the weekend would go as perfectly as possible.

“Ugh, those fucking dim-witted imbeciles!” Rhaenyra raged, slamming her phone down on the couch where you were sitting. You looked up from your work, concern furrowed in your brow, as Rhaenyra sank into the couch next to you and began ranting. “Can you believe that the caterers had to cancel at the last minute? Said something about having to attend to the President’s dinner party for all his cabinet at the fucking Red Keep!” Rhaenyra was positively vibrating with fury, and if her anger could sprout wings, she would have flown away by now, probably to kick the head of the caterers’ ass.

“Nyra,” you tried to calm her, but she continued on with her tirade. “And the florists! No one can do their jobs right.” rhaenyra buried her face in a throw cushion, making a distressed noise. “I knew I should’ve accepted Alicent’s offer of connecting me to the florists she previously used at the other Targaryen events. But I’m just-”

“I know,” you said, hands going to rub Rhaenyra’s shoulders soothingly. Rhaenyra’s dislike for her stepmother was legendary among your social circles, and with how bullheaded Rhaenyra was, you can’t say you were surprised when she vehemently turned down her stepmother’s offers of connecting Rhaenyra to her contacts, preferring to do it on her own.

Rhaenyra’s anger soon turned into a crack in her voice, as she felt small tears slipping down her cheeks, seeping into the velvet of the throw cushion she was using to hide her face. She didn’t want you to see her like this. But the stress was really getting to her, and she soon broke, like a dam that had caved at long last.

Mortification and sympathy immediately filled you when you heard your girlfriend’s strangled sob, as you moved to take her into your arms. “I just-” Rhaenyra choked out, “I wanted to do this on my own. To prove that I could. This is the first event that Father asked me to plan on my own as future CEO to Targaryen Corporations, and I’ve-” Rhaenyra sniffled noisily. The snot from her tears was getting into the blouse you were wearing, but you could care less, only continuing to stroke Rhaenyra’s silver-blonde locks, trying to mollify her. “I’ve screwed it up completely. I’m such a fuckup.”

“You’re not a fuckup, Nyra,” you said softly, heart breaking as you watched her shoulders shake with sobs. “Don’t lie to me, Y/N,” Rhaenyra spat out, though the venom in her voice was weakened by how much she was crying.

“I haven’t finished yet,” your voice was chiding, but gently so. “A fuckup, absolutely not. Bullheaded? Stubborn? A little idiotic? Definitely so.” A choked laugh bubbled up in the midst of Rhaenyra’s tears, and you smiled at that, satisfied to have elicited a response apart from cursing or tears.

“What do I do, my love?” Rhaenyra sniffled, her tone stained with despair. “How am I supposed to face Father tomorrow and tell him that the caterers and florists have both cancelled? I barely can keep the rest of the event’s logistics from spiralling out of control too.” Rhaenyra barked out a jagged laugh. “Seven Hells, the only thing I actually managed to get done was secure the venue and the musicians. He’s going to be so disappointed in me, isn’t he?” You hummed, softly curling a strand of Rhaenyra’s hair around your index finger. “You know, love, I did offer my help a few weeks ago. The offer still stands.”

An exasperated sigh burst from Rhaenyra’s lips. “And I said no. I don’t need help…” Rhaenyra’s voice slowly trailed off, as the absurdity of words began to sink in. “Oh,” she spoke, voice sounding defeated.“I really am an idiot, aren’t I?’

“Oh, darling,” you spoke affectionately. “You are, but that doesn’t mean you can’t start amending that.” You kissed her on the forehead tenderly, wiping her tears away with your thumb. “Let me help you. Please, Nyra. You can’t keep insisting on doing everything yourself, you know.” Your voice was gentle, yet firm. “You need to let go of your pride. Capeesh?”

Rhaenyra grumbled a little, but she melted under the warmth of your embrace. “Fine. Capeesh. But maybe hold back on bruising my ego, why don’t you?” You chuckled, kissing her on the lips. “How else am I supposed to get you to learn, dearest?”

In all honesty, managing an event was definitely way harder than you imagined it was when you had offered your help. While the lack of a budget certainly helped, there were a lot of things the both of you had to consider. Such as the table seating arrangements, the order of the performances (who knew there would be so much fuss over whether the ballet-contemporary dance trope should come before or after the string quartet performance?), the approval of the various menus for guests with special dietary restrictions and the like.

Rich people truly never ceased to amaze you with their elaborate whims and fancies.

Even with your help, Rhaenyra still occasionally flew into anxious fits while the both of you were sorting out the details for the event, and you had to stop all work to comfort her when that happened. You also noticed her bitten off fingernails, an old childhood habit Rhaenyra was fond of doing. When confronted, Rhaenyra only sheepishly admitted that the stress often blinded her from doing anything else.

While it made your blood boil that Rhaenyra was neglecting her own well-being for the sake of the godsforsaken gala, you also felt an uncomfortable, crawling sensation under your skin, and that little voice in your head, telling you that you were to blame for this whole mess.

‘Why weren’t you more insistent on helping her out?’ it whispered, taunting. ‘How could you let your girlfriend stress herself to this point until she would mistreat herself?’

Still, you managed to wave the thoughts aside, wanting to just focus on Rhaenyra now. Gradually, as the plans for the gala became more and more concrete, Rhaenyra became noticeably more relaxed, the perpetual frown that was present on her lips slowly dissolving into a less tense expression. Although Rhaenyra still bristled at the thought of bringing in additional help, she reluctantly acquiesced when you mentioned asking Alicent, who was more experienced in hosting these events, to take a look at the event timeline. It was no easy feat for a Targaryen to set aside their pride, but you were very glad that Rhaenyra could.

As the night of the Targaryen Christmas Gala rolled around, you were in Rhaenyra’s dressing room, lips pursed in concentration as you fastened the delicate clasp of Rhaenyra’s diamond festoon necklace around her neck.

“Hey,” Rhaenyra said softly, looking at you through the mirror. “Mmm?” you hummed inquisitively, smiling widely as you finally managed to get the clasp buckled together. She grabbed your hands as she turned around, leaning her forehead on yours. “Thank you.” Love and gratitude laced her voice. You squeezed her hands in yours, leaning in to kiss your girlfriend on the lips. “It’ll be alright,” Rhaenyra felt a warm feeling seep into her muscles, extinguishing the tension she had been feeling all evening. “Don’t worry too much, hmm? It’s Christmas after all. Tis’ the season to be jolly, you know.” A light giggle burst from Rhaenyra’s lips, before she leaned in for another kiss. “I’ll do my best, love.”

Hours had stretched on, and it seemed the gala was going swimmingly. Though Rhaenyra had roped you into attending the gala with her - her reasons being that you were her beloved girlfriend and that she wanted every single one of the Targaryen family’s business associates, as well as all her family to see that you were the woman she loved - she had been noticeably absent for some time now.

Anxious footsteps thumped across the floor of the ballroom, as you politely manoeuvred past the gala’s attendees, trying to find the familiar figure clad in red.

When you neared one of the endless amount of balconies in this massive building, you breathed out a sigh of relief when you caught a glimpse of white-blonde hair. Standing out at the terrace, surrounded by the night and glowing under the shimmer of a thousand stars, Rhaenyra leaned on the balcony balustrade, her back to the door, as you admired her from behind.

“You look like a goddess from this view you know,” Rhaenyra smiled as she felt your arms encircle her waist, planting a soft kiss on her neck. “Oh no, you found me,” her tone was filled with teasing. She relaxed into your arms, seeking your warmth. “I found you,” Rhaenyra’s breathing grew heavier as you continued peppering kisses on her neck. “Why are you out here all by yourself, gorgeous? The party’s going well, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is,” Rhaenyra sighed, tilting her head up to give you more access to her neck. “It just…still makes me a bit disappointed in myself, you know? That I couldn’t take charge of a simple event like this.”

“You’re belittling yourself again, my darling,” you murmured, lips grazing along the sensitive curve of her shoulder. “This event is far from simple, and you know that. Besides, it’s alright to accept the help of others when you’re overwhelmed.”

Rhaenyra closed her eyes, her hair falling into her face slightly as she cast her gaze downwards. “And I know. It’s just still hard to accept.” You purse your lips, wanting to comfort her somehow…

Rhaenyra felt her breath hitch as your fingers slowly made their way up her thighs, all while your lips still remained on her neck. “Where are those fingers going, hmm?” she murmured.

“I just want to make you feel better, my dear.” You trailed your kisses to the top of her spine. Do I have your permission, love?”

“Yes,” Rhaenyra breathed out, gripping the balcony railing tighter. “Fuck yes.” A wicked grin graced your face as she said that, as your fingers skillfully slid aside her panties, grazing them gently against Rhaenyra’s sweet spot. Her answering moan was a cry from the angels themselves.

“Wet already, hmm?” You murmured, the pad of your finger collecting the wetness of her slit. Rhaenyra groaned, “That’s usually my line.” You smirked in response, fingers playing with her folds with deliberation. “I know you’re always on top, darling. But isn’t it nice to have me take charge for a change?”

“Definitely no-” Rhaenyra had to bite her tongue as you plunged the first finger inside of her, pleasure coursing through her veins. “Oh, darling,” she moaned your name huskily as you added a second finger, beginning to move faster. A strangled cry rose from her throat as your thumb went to rub at her clit, her skin feeling feverish as she felt you tug off her furred shawl so that you could have access to her bare back. Your soft lips followed the curve of her spine, while your other hand went to trace patterns on her heated skin.

“Dominance is a good look on me, isn’t it?” You teased, adding a third finger, curling it in a come hither motion. Rhaenyra felt like she was about to faint, as a familiar budding sensation in her abdomen began to bloom. “I should do it more often, love. Who knew you could be a pliant mess under all that tough exterior?”

“Oh, you are so going to regret this later,” Rhaenyra growled, head already filled with the ideas she would do to punish you later when she got home. In response, you only rubbed her clit harder, making her let out a cry of needy pleasure.

“Nah,” you smiled, not fazed in the least. “I don’t think I will, dear.” The speed of your fingers quickened, and Rhaenyra let out a final wanton moan as she came, legs turning weak. You had to grip on tightly to her waist with your other hand that wasn’t buried to the knuckle in her so that her knees wouldn’t give in then and there.

“You okay, darling?” you asked teasingly, as your fingers gradually slowed their pace and you planted a kiss onto the crook of her shoulder. Rhaenyra narrowed her eyes, though her breathing was still unsteady after the orgasm she had. “Don’t act so smug just because you’re in charge for once. You’re going to get it when we get home, darling.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” you continued challenging her with that teasing tone of yours, retracting your hand from under Rhaenyra’s skirts. “Do me a favour before that, and taste yourself, darling?” Rhaenyra looked a bit miffed at that, though in good spirit. Still, she gave in with a dramatic sigh, as you lifted your fingers to her lips, making her suck her essence off of them. A light moan burst from your lips at the sight, and you leaned in to kiss her, threading your fingers in her white-blonde locks to pull her closer to you. When she abruptly broke away, you frowned, thinking that you had done something wrong, but she only pointed up and said with a sort of childlike delight, “Look, it’s snowing, darling.”

Caught off guard, you directed your gaze upwards, noting with wonder the white furls currently dancing in the sky. Rhaenyra laughed as a snowflake got caught in your eyelash and you let out a small yelp, flicking it off with her fingers. “Merry Christmas, darling,” Rhaenyra murmured, capturing your lips with hers again, her hand cupping your cheek. You smiled back, gazing adoringly into her eyes. “Merry Christmas, Nyra.”

let me know if you wish to be added to a general taglist for rhaenyra related works, or just my works in general in the comments or through this form! :)

thank you for reading! if you liked it, likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! merry late xmas guys 😘🎄

135 notes · View notes

maidragoste · 6 months

Text

Forgive me

Harwin Strong x Velaryon!Reader (unrequited love), Alicent Hightower x Velaryon!Reader, Larys Strong x Velaryon!Reader

Part 5 of this

Part 6

Serie Masterlist

Larys does not appear in this chapter but we have Alicent 😋

btw, there was going to be a little scene with Daemon but I felt like it didn't add to this chapter but if you want I can upload it separately

Comments, reblogs, likes are always greatly appreciated 🥰💖

Please comment if you like the chapter 🙏 🙏 , it always motivates me to write more 💖💖

My inbox is open so I'm always willing to read your headcanons, opinions and answer your questions.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

"Get out," you demanded the moment you saw Rhaenyra with Jacaerys in her arms entering your chambers. You noticed how her smile seemed to tremble at your cold tone but you didn't care. If she didn't care about your feelings when she fucked your husband then you had no reason to care about hers.

You had to admit that Rhaenyra had been cautious enough to come when you were alone. If your mother had been with you you were sure that she would not have held her tongue and would have told the princess everything she thought of her. You could even see your mother dragging her by her hair to get her out of your chambers. A small smile appeared on your lips as you imagined the scene, that would be something to talk about in court. Although you would never let your mother lose her temper so much, she couldn't get on the king's bad side.

"Jacaerys wanted to meet his cousins," Rhaenyra said as if she hadn't heard you and sat down next to you. You moved as much as you could, wanting to make your displeasure clear. You couldn't go far since next to you was the basket where Aethan was sleeping there.

Of course, she was going to use her son as her excuse to see you. It wasn't the first time she had done it. Now that she knew that she had seen that you cared about Jacaerys—if it were up to you she would never have found out but one night the prince couldn't sleep no matter what Rhaenyra, Harwin, and Laenor did so your brother had the wonderful idea to take Jace with you, you managed to make him sleep by singing him the same song that you sang to him in the nursery before the perplexed gaze of your husband and the princess—I thought that through him he could get close to you again. But she was wrong.

"Jacaerys couldn't have told you that," you said, feeling Alyn begin to stir in your arms. A small part of you wished that he would start crying so the princess would leave but you knew that if he cried then Aethan would wake up and he would start crying too. You sighed and began to coo to your son, trying to ignore Rhaenyra's glare.

"But it's obvious that he's in a bad mood because he hasn't seen you in days," said the princess.

"Fine. He can stay, now you can go" you said, starting to think that you would have to call one of the maids to help you. You didn't like the idea but there was no way you could handle two newborns and a baby less than a year old alone.

"Y/n" Rhaenyra said your name with pure pain.

"What?" you said pointedly. You hated that she was doing this. You wanted to be calm with your children and she came to interrupt your little peace. No matter how many times you made it clear that you wanted nothing to do with her, the princess wouldn't stop insisting. And now she wanted to make you feel bad for her when you weren't the one who ruined everything between the two of you.

"Forgive me. Please, I just want everything to go back to the way it was before," Rhaenyra begged, if you hadn't had your son in your arms she would have taken your hands and kissed them like the two of you used to do when you were young whenever one of you had said or done something that had hurt the other.

"Rhaenyra, that will never happen," you said, starting to feel pain in your head.

"I miss you" You closed your eyes as you heard the princess's voice falter. “I love you,” you couldn’t help but let out a shaky breath. You decided to focus on your anger and ignore any other emotions you felt.

"You say that and you still fucked my husband," you said, opening your eyes and looking at her furiously.

"I handled the situation badly," she admitted, hugging Jace, trying not to break down in front of you. "I'm really sorry," she apologized again, feeling her heartache at your attitude. "I know I was wrong but I need you. I can't stand you hating me."

You'd like to say you weren't affected by hearing the desperation in Rhaenyra's voice but you'd be lying. You hated her. And you hate yourself for stopping her from affecting you. A part of you feared that deep inside you were still the young woman who loved the princess and lived to see her happy. You forced yourself to remember the whispers of the court at Jacaerys's hair color to erase any trace of pity you felt for the princess. She alone had caused this. She couldn't expect that with a simple apology, you would forget everything she did.

“You'll have to live with that for the rest of your life, Rhaenyra,” you said that because it was the truth, you weren't going to ever forgive her, but you also said it because you wanted to hurt her, you hoped she felt at least a part of the pain that she and Harwin gave you. “You had to think about it before betraying me”

“You betrayed me first!”

Rhaenyra's scream caused the three babies to start crying. If Jacaerys had not been in the princess's arms, you would have thrown the object closest to your reach at her. Who the hell did she think she was to come uninvited to your chambers and yell at you? Not only that, but she accused you of betraying her. You couldn't believe her audacity. It hadn't even been thirty minutes since she apologized to you and now she was yelling at you.

If the babies' cries weren't drilling into your head, perhaps you would have asked her to explain what the supposed betrayal you had committed was, but right now you just wanted her away so you could calm the twins down.

“Get out” you ordered and for once Rhaenyra listened to you. Of course, she had to leave slamming the door, making your children's cries even worse.

“I don't like them,” Aegon announced, looking with obvious disgust at Aethan, who was in your arms, and Alyn, who was being cooed by Alicent.

Perhaps another woman would have been offended or bothered by the little prince's comment but you couldn't help but laugh at the pout of his lips and his little wrinkled nose.

“Aegon!” Alicent instantly reprimanded him, making the boy even more upset.

“It's okay, my queen,” you reassured her with a smile. “Do you want to tell me why you don't like them?” you asked in a soft voice and settled better in your seat so you could hold Aethan well with one hand and thus be able to caress him with your other hand Aegon's hair.

The boy felt a little better at your sweet caresses. “Because of them you can't spend time with me and Sunfyre anymore,” he grumbled.

Since you gave birth to the twins you didn't go to the Dragon's Pit with Aegon. Now it was the dragon guardians who taught him how to care for and bond with Sunfyre. He didn't like that. Aegon wanted you to be next to him, he wanted to see your proud smile every time he pronounced a word in Valyrian correctly, he wanted you to take him to fly with you over Nightwing like you used to do every time he finished his lessons.

The worst thing was that every time Aegon wanted to spend time with you there was always someone else with you and there were the babies. You couldn't play with him or pay attention to him for long because one of the twins would always start crying or someone would turn their attention to the twins. Aegon didn't understand what people saw as interesting about the twins, they were just annoying babies who didn't know how to do anything but cry. Aegon just wanted to have his time alone with you again.

“Oh, my little prince, I miss spending time with you too” You kissed his cheek several times until Aegon began to laugh.

Alicent watched them both with a smile. It always warmed her heart every time she saw how you cared about her children and how loving you were towards them. She was sure that you cared more about her children than Viserys did. She knew you loved her children like they were your own. She could see it every time your face lit up when the children came running to hug you. She could see it in how you listened intently to Aegon and Helaena's ramblings. She could see it every time she found you in the nursery singing to Aemond and Daeron. She felt grateful for all those moments. She was grateful that there was someone who genuinely cared about her children.

“I promise you that once I recover I will go with you to the Dragon’s Pit.”

"But just the two of us! No annoying babies!" Aegon said, looking at you "seriously" as he pointed at you. You laughed again, the little prince's attitude made you tender.

“Aegon, you shouldn't talk about them like that. They are your family,” Alicent reminded him sternly, making you stop laughing and making the boy have a pout on his lips again.

Sometimes you felt that Alicent took everything too seriously and forgot that Aegon was just a child. It was obvious that he was just jealous that he couldn't spend time with you and it was the first time you'd heard him complain. You didn't like seeing Aegon being reprimanded just for acting his age. A child his age should be free to say what he thinks, he should spend more time playing instead of being pressured to attend lessons just because they thought it would impress his father. You didn't like it nor did you want to take away authority from Alicent's upbringing but sometimes you couldn't help but intervene because you didn't like how they pressured Aegon.

“You can say that they are annoying or anything you want, Aegon,” you said poking his nose with your finger making him smile a little “As long as we are alone” you quickly clarified before the queen's gaze “Besides I am sure that once they grow up and you can play with them you will like them”

Before the prince could answer you, the maester appeared to take the boy away since he had to start his lessons. You managed to convince Aegon to leave after you promised him that he could visit you again once he finished his lessons and that you would be waiting for him with his favorite sweets.

“How are you feeling?” Alicent asked once they were alone. She had been furious when one of her handmaidens informed her that Rhaenyra had come to see you. She had also noticed the dark circles under your eyes. She knew that the twins weren't letting you sleep much, she more than anything wanted to be able to help you but she was the queen and people would notice if she came to your chambers in the middle of the night.

“I'm tired but now that I've seen you and Aegon I'm happy” you admitted, resting your head on her shoulder and you closed your eyes, missing the blush on the queen's cheeks and the sweet smile that appeared on her face at your words.

You smiled as you felt Alicent's lips on your forehead. Not feeling satisfied, you stopped leaning on her shoulder so you could steal a kiss from her. You felt your chest warm at the familiarity of the sweetness of her lips.

Any discomfort that Rhaenyra caused you was forgotten with Alicent's kisses.

Again another night of crying. You didn't know how many minutes ago Aethan and Alyn were crying. You tried to feed them but none of them wanted to take your breast, you had already changed them but they still kept crying.

You rocked Alyn in your arms and with your foot from time to time, you lightly pushed the crib where Aethan was, hoping that the movement would tire him out. All this while you sing to them, trying to ignore the lump in your throat. You feel worthless for not being able to make your babies stop crying. It shouldn't be difficult to put them to sleep if you are their mother.

You jumped when you heard the door open. Your body tenses as you see your husband enter. Harwin had not come to your chambers since the birth of the twins. He never made a complaint or a reproach to you about your relationship with Larys, he stayed by your side and presented your children as a proud father before the court but he no longer went to your chambers. And you were okay with that because you didn't want him to keep insisting that you forgive him.

“What do you want?” you asked pointedly, not bothering to hide your annoyance at his sudden presence, hoping that would make him leave.

You were surprised to see that Harwin didn't seem affected by your tone like usual. You noticed the determination in his eyes and wondered what the hell had happened. Was he coming to argue with you because of how you spoke to Rhaenyra? If he dared to come in the middle of the night while your children were crying just to defend his lover you would kick his ass and let your mother scare him with Meleys.

“I heard the twins crying.”

“I'm sorry that my children don't let you sleep,” you interrupted him with obvious sarcasm. Trying not to think that if Harwin could hear them cry, so should other people. You didn't want to think about how tomorrow the court would talk about your inability as a mother.

“I came to help you” You were surprised by his words.

“Why?” you asked clearly defensively. Although you two knew that you really wanted to ask him, why would you help me with them when you are not their father?

“Because I care about you,” he said but you both knew he really wanted to tell you because I love you. You told yourself that you felt nothing as you saw the obvious love in Harwin's eyes. “You haven't slept well in days. I heard them cry for days and I know you, I know that every time you can't calm them down you are insulting yourself. "I can see right now how frustrated you are because you can't also pick up Aethan and comfort him as you would like."

The lump in your throat grew bigger. You hated that he knew you so well. But you weren't surprised after all he is your husband. Of course, he knew how you thought and how your mind worked. He had seen you in your most vulnerable states.

He had been so good to you but he had to ruin it all.

“Can I pick him up?”

It was silly but you really appreciated that he had asked instead of directly taking your baby in his arms. You nodded, not trusting your voice not to come out shaky.

You frowned as you watched Harwin take off his nightshirt.

“Jace calms down when he feels my skin,” Harwin was quick to clarify and get Aethan out of her crib before you decided to kick him out for thinking she was trying to seduce you. He felt you watching him intently as he placed the baby's small body against her chest. Of course, his crying didn't stop instantly but he seemed to calm down a little.

Your husband started singing the same song you were singing a few minutes ago. His Valyrian was rusty compared to yours. Once you are sure that your voice is not going to betray you, you accompany him in singing. You don't stop rocking Alyn as you watch Harwin pace around the room carefully holding your son. You relaxed as you saw that Aethan didn't look uncomfortable and how as the song continued he became calmer and calmer. It doesn't take long for Alyn to calm down when he sees that you are no longer upset.

Your eyes meet Harwin's and the two of you smile at each other. And Harwin can't help but think that this is where he belongs.

Taglist: @chaotic-fangirl-blog @joliettes @sweethoneyblossom1 @fudge13 @crystal-faith @tita004 @ichanelvxgue @snowprincesa1 @rosey1981 @alastorhazbin

@papichulo120627 @apollonshootafar @jasminecosmic99 @diorchaiamet @camy85 @nzygftoji @daemion-targaryen @paolexsstuff @thefandomimagines @little-duck

@niki-is-a-thing @chaoticcoffeequeen @gemnetjournal @fullyproblematicstudent @thestartitaness @sammskellington @rockerchick05 @impartinghades @bxdbxtxh15 @rebelliuna

@fluffly @lilithskywalker @zealousturtletaco @asiandongbongsoo @mysticdaisy21 @angeliod @snh96 @thegirlnextdoorssister @targaryenmoony @libdarkheart

@canpillowscry @pet1t3 @fuckinglittlekitten @partypoison00 @watercolorskyy @immyowndefender @fullyproblematicstudent @lovelylunas-world

If you want to be part of my taglist

593 notes · View notes

yns-world · 1 year

Text

House of The Dragon Reacting to You Being Courted and Wedded to Someone Else

part ii of The Heir series

part i

a/n: fem reader, race not specified, size not specified

Y/H/A = Your House Animal

Y/H/C = Your House Color

In this imagine, your jealous lovers are: Rhaenyra and Daemon

Context: After inheriting the crown, your first duty was to find a King's consort. As part of your heirship, King Viserys forbade any Targaryen to ever meddle with your reign, wanting your dynasty to be as true to you as possible.

Rhaenyra: As your Hand, she knew very well that it was your civic duty to wed and produce heirs, no matter how painful it was for her to watch. During your courtship, she created a 3-month tour to visit every kingdom on the map to find the most suitable match, because Rhaenyra knew that you weren’t just marrying the person; you were creating an alliance with the whole House. This required a careful evaluation of a lord’s status, wealth, and history. When she came back from her journey, she presented you with three candidates--

“Ser Tyland Lannister from House Lannister of Casterly Rock; Ser Laenor Velaryon from House Velaryon of Driftmark; and Ser Harwin Strong from House Strong of Harrenhal.” Rhaenyra presented the three men and they all bowed before the throne.

“And what do they offer the crown?” Queen Y/N inquired, clearly unimpressed by the selection.

“House Lannister has enough gold to fund the crown. House Velaryon has thousands of fleets that are pledged to fight for any and all of your greatest conquests. And finally, House Strong is a noble house that produced the greatest warriors ever known.” Rhaenyra answered, looking up at the queen with an arched brow, waiting for a snarky comment that never came.

Queen Y/N pondered on the options for a moment, flicking her eyes from Rhaenyra and to the three men standing before her.

“Congratulations Ser Tyland Lannister, you have the honor of being named the King’s Consort.” There was a layer of disdain in her voice, a layer that Rhaenyra picked up on.

In honor of the two Houses uniting, a brand new banner was designed-- Y/H/A and the Lannister Lion were sharing arms, while Y/H/A wore a crown and the Lannister Lion held a sword in its other paw. Your house colors switched places, with Lannister Red coloring behind Y/H/A and Y/H/C being behind the Lion.

From the beginning, the process of your marriage was a difficult pill for Rhaenyra to swallow, but all the pain and suffering was worth it when you named your first daughter and heir apparent after her-- Princess Rhaenyra L/N, second of her name, heir to the Iron Throne.

Daemon: Daemon was appointed Lord Commander of the Queensguard and a “friend of the crown”, so to speak. When it came to your marriage, you believed that Daemon would be unaffected by the political arrangement. To your astonishment, it was quite the opposite.

Just a few hours after the first candidate showing, Daemon decapitated the suitor that you had your eyes on-- some prick from House Lannister.

In the beginning of the killings, nobody knew who this culprit was. But you knew, you knew all along, you just wouldn’t be dettered so easily.

The next morning after the first death, Daemon sulked into the throne room and dropped to his knees in front of you. He latched onto your legs and started sobbing into your silk gown.

“All my life I was the second choice-- the second son, the second heir-- I don’t want to be your second lover. I want to be the only one. You are the Queen of the Realm, I am nothing but your servant.” After catching his breath, Daemon slowly raised his desperate eyes to your face. With a finality in his voice, he spoke. “Nobody is worthy of the Queen of the Realm.”

This killing pattern would continue with every single candidate that came close to becoming your consort. It got to the point where fathers of prominent Houses were terrified of sending their sons to ask for your hand in marriage. Eventually your council knew they couldn’t get you to wed for as long as Daemon stayed at your post, so they let you become a king-less queen.

The unfortunate victims of Daemon’s rage were labeled as the Queen’s Ghosts-- the 32 men who were brutally murdered in Queen Y/N’s name. These victims came from all of the major families and then some-- House Lannister of Casterly Rock, House Stark of Winterfell, House Baratheon of Storm’s End, the list goes on.

Daemon’s brutalities were quickly associated with you, earning you the title “The Queen of Death.” You didn’t mind the title, it only fueled fear in the hearts of the people that didn’t already bow to you.

Of course, there was the question of your next heir. Since you weren’t wed, how could you possibly have any children?

Fortunantely for you, the agreement between your House and House Targaryen forbade you from any legal contraction, but that didn’t stop Daemon from siring four of your children out of wedlock-- one boy and three girls. Your first son and heir was named Sol, after the sun. Unlike you, Prince Sol would grow into a king who would fit his inherited title of “The Ruler of Death.”

a/n: i hope you enjoyed! if you did, please consider reblogging since it helps my account! :)

DON'T BE A GHOST READER!!!! i would love to hear your thoughts and opinions, and comments are what keep writers going <3

i'm open to HoTD requests so just read my pinned post for request rules <3

if you have any ideas for other scenarios for this series or just any ideas in general, please don't hesitate to hmu!!! i want to hear what everyone has to say :)

717 notes · View notes

sapphire-writes · 1 year

Text

The Au Pair (modern!HOTD) part 1

Part 1 ~ Part 2

pairing: Daemon x fem!Reader x Rhaenyra

summary: You take a new job nannying for a family on the Upper East Side. You find yourself intrigued by both parents.

warnings: 18+ (slight power imbalance as they're your bosses, sensual themes), language

word count: 3.1k

note: I've been in a Daemon x Rhae mood and this idea came to me and suddenly it is here, enjoy my loves!

When you looked up at the high-rise apartment building, you felt your stomach drop. You had always been that way with heights, whether looking down or looking up at something tall, the feeling of intense vertigo washing over you. You took in a deep breath to steady yourself, draining the rest of your coffee before walking in.

Throwing the cup in a nearby bin, you popped a mint into your mouth to hopefully disguise your coffee breath.

You’d nannied before but never au-paired. It seemed to be a little more intense, having you live with the family, and become a part of the family. But you had to get out of your current living situation, and the website was too tempting to pass up.

You didn’t even think you’d get a response when you sent in your resume. You recognized the family name; old money, the backbone of Wall Street. It was too good to be true when you received an email inviting you in person for an interview.

Still, the thought of caring for three boys was nearly overwhelming.

“You’ll only truly be a little help,” Rhaenyra had told you, after leading you through the foyer, giving you hot tea in a cup that felt so delicate it might break in your small hands.

Rhaenyra had ushered you to the sofa, before sitting in the one directly across. She crossed her ankles, clad in a dark maroon suit, her silver hair striking against the wine-colored fabric. She was ethereally beautiful, the kind of pretty that takes your breath away.

“Luke and Joff are the littles, they require the most attention,” Rhaenyra explained.

You take a sip of the tea, warmth flooding through you.

“How old are they?” you ask, blowing on the tea.

“Jacaerys is the oldest, he’s nine, then there’s Luke who is seven, and little Joffrey is only four,” Rhaenyra tells you.

“No girls?” you ask and she shakes her head.

“Daemon’s daughters Baela and Rhaena sometimes visit during the week, they’re nine as well. They live with their mother mostly, and often spend the weekends with us.”

“You have a full house,” you comment, smiling.

“Several,” Rhaenyra answers, mirroring your smile, “We have two apartments here, in the city, during the weekends we go to our house, outside of the city.”

“That’s wonderful, that you’re able to get away,” you tell her, “the city can be overwhelming.”

“I agree,” she says, “it’s nice to have an escape. So, tell me about yourself,” she cocks her head to the side, “what made you want this position?”

You sigh, deciding it's best to be truthful.

“Well, I’ve worked with kids before, on and off,” you begin, “some babysitting, nannying, I was a camp counselor for one summer.”

Rhaenyra nods, her violet eyes warm and inviting.

“I also, just recently lost my apartment,” you tell her, “it’s a long story, but I need to be out by the end of the month, so a job that comes with a place to live was very tempting.”

Rhaenyra smiles, and you nervously play with the rings on your fingers.

“I can be really good with the kids, I think we’ll get along great.”

Rhaenyra looks you up and down as the door opens. The most beautiful man you’ve ever seen walks in, throwing his briefcase on the counter. His silver hair falls in front of his eyes as he leans against the counter, tapping his ring-clad fingers against the black marble.

“Daemon,” she calls, not turning around, “meet our guest.”

Daemon simply glances at you, busy with something on his phone.

“He’ll warm up, don’t you worry,” Rhaenya says, standing.

“I won’t let you down if given this opportunity,” you tell her, placing your teacup down and standing to leave.

“I know you won’t,” she says, taking your arm to lead you to the door, “let me discuss with my husband, and we’ll let you know.”

“Thank you, truly,” you tell her at the door, “It was nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“Please, call me Rhaenyra,” she insists.

“Rhaenyra,” you say, and she leads you out.

Rhaenyra sighs, returning to the couch and flipping through your resume once more.

“I’m shocked you let her leave,” Daemon says, dropping a kiss on Rhaenyra’s head, and squeezing her shoulder with a ring-clad hand.

“She’ll be back,” Rhaenyra assures him, “I’m taking it slow.”

“Surprising,” Daemon says, “with her calling you ma’am so sweetly.”

Rhaenyra merely glances up at him, smiling coyly at her husband.

“I’ll give her a call this evening then,” Rhaneyra says, kissing the back of his hand, “officially offer her the job?”

“Call her now, if you like,” Daemon tells her.

“She’s probably still in the building,” Rhaenyra says with a chuckle.

“Even better,” Daemon says.

Rhaenyra hums, pulling out her phone.

“Someone’s eager,” Rhaenyra teases, earning a low growl from her husband.

After celebratory drinks with your girlfriends and packing all your shit into boxes, a car picks you up bringing you to your new home. You’re shown to your room by one of the housekeepers. It’s perfect for you, with large windows and a private bathroom. The bed feels like heaven as you lay on top of it. You can’t believe your luck.

You’re introduced to the boys when they come home from school. While Jace is apprehensive, Luke warms to you right away, insisting on showing you his collection of Lego model sets. Dragons are his favorite at the moment. You spend the afternoon with them, and the day flies by.

Only when you’re in your room later, fresh out of the shower and dressed for bed do you realize you’ve lost something rather important in the move. You silently curse, and pad down the hallway toward the home office Rhaenyra uses.

“Mrs. Targaryen?” you ask, knocking on the office door.

Rhaenyra beckons you in, smiling, removing her blue light glasses and looking away from the computer.

“I’m so sorry to bother you-”

“Nonsense, darling, what is it?” Rhaenyra says, lacing her fingers together, “and what did I say about addressing me?”

You blush, forgetting yourself. You find it easy to get flustered in Rhaenyra’s presence.

“I’m sorry, Rhaenyra,” you correct yourself.

“You don’t have to say sorry,” she tells you.

Her tone is so sweet, so kind, and loving that it almost makes you want to apologize again. You release a breathy laugh instead.

“I seem to have lost my hairbrush in the move,” you tell her, “you wouldn’t happen to have an extra one lying around?”

Rhaenyra stands, walking out from behind her desk and toward you.

“Of course, come here,” she tells you, reaching for your hand.

It's warm and soft as she interlaces her fingers with yours, pulling you out of the home office and down the hallway. You haven’t yet seen Daemon and Rhaenyra’s room, though you realize this is about to change. She opens the door and brings you into their room.

You can’t help but gawk at windows that stretch from the floor to the ceiling revealing the New York City skyline. The curtains are still open, revealing the sparkling city below. Daemon is already seated in bed on top of the covers reading, looking up as you enter with Rhaenyra.

“Already?” he asks, and Rhaenyra shushes him.

“Our friend is without a hairbrush,” she says, releasing your hand and moving to enter the master bathroom.

Daemon hums at her response, returning to his book. The bed is huge, big enough to comfortably fit the whole family if they wanted. The sheets are a deep gray, and look like they’re made of the softest silk. You almost want to reach out and touch them, feel the softness when Rhaenyra reenters the room.

“Sit,” she tells you, motioning to the bed.

“That’s okay,” you assure her, “I can-”

“It’s the least I can do,” she interrupts.

You want to argue with her. They’re letting you live in a gorgeous highrise on the Upper East Side and essentially want for nothing, and yet they’re the ones who are grateful? You suppose it just shows what good parents they are, wanting nothing but the best for the boys. It warms your heart knowing you can help support them in that way.

Rhaenyra motions to the bed once more and you sit down on the edge. You know immediately that sleeping in that bed would cure any problems you’ve ever had. It’s so soft against you and you run your hand over the sheets. Rhaenyra sits next to you, crossing her legs.

“Turn for me,” she says, and you move so your back faces her.

She takes your hair, still wet from your shower, and runs her hands through it gently. You can feel her nails against your scalp causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. She moves the hair from your neck before gently beginning to brush through your hair. It’s so relaxing your eyes flutter shut.

Daemon is watching now, closing his book and leaning his head back against the headboard. Rhaenyra meets his gaze and his eyes narrow. She flicks an eyebrow at him, continuing. Daemon sticks his tongue against his cheek before rising from the bed. You open your eyes as you feel him move, watching as you walk by you, stopping to press a kiss against Rhaenyra’s cheek.

He heads into the bathroom, not bothering to close the door as you hear the shower turn on. Rhaenyra places the brush on your lap.

“There you are,” she tells you, placing her hands on your shoulder and squeezing.

“Thank you,” you tell her earnestly.

Her kindness brings tears to your eyes and you find yourself wanting to hug her, bury your face in the crook of her neck, and have her lavish your face with kisses. The thought brings a blush to your cheeks. She’s your boss. Still, as you get up to leave and bid her goodnight, you find your gaze falling to her lips. You look away quickly.

“Thank you again, Rhaenyra,” you tell her, “For everything. I’m really grateful for this opportunity.”

Rhaenyra smiles, smoothing some hair from your face.

“We’re happy to have you,” she tells you, “Goodnight, my dear.”

“Goodnight,” you tell her, leaving the room and heading to your own.

Daemon reappears with wet hair and a towel around his waist. Droplets of water cling to his chest and shoulders. Rhaenyra smirks at him.

“Enjoy your cold shower?” she teases and he chuckles in response.

The following week is a test run, seeing how you handle the boys and their schedule. It’s easy enough-no scarily easy. The boys are a dream, so well behaved and respectful toward you, and enjoying the attention that is devoted to them while their mother and stepfather are busy working.

Your schedule is simple. Wake up, make sure the boys get their breakfast, escort them to school, and then the rest of the morning and early afternoon is yours. Rhaenyra has assured you that sometimes she shall give you some errands to run, but for the most part, you’re free to ponder around different coffee shops and bookstores and attend your university classes.

You pick up Joffrey first, as his daycare releases him in the early afternoon, and bring him on a walk. Then you wait for Jace and Luke to end their school days and escort them to their afterschool activities. You almost feel bad for Rhaenyra and Daemon, like you’re taking advantage of them somehow. It shouldn’t be this easy, right? It can’t be this perfect?

You’re still lost in your thoughts while you sit on a park bench watching Joffrey toddle about on a play structure as someone sits down beside you. You blink, pulled from your thoughts, giving her a kind smile.

“You’re the new Targaryen AP, right?” the girl asks, smiling at you.

“Yeah!” you answer, telling her your name.

“I’m Shae,” she tells you, “The Lannister’s Au Pair.”

You nod. You’ve heard that name before. Shae points at a little girl with golden curls on the swings.

“Cerelle Lannister, one of the little lions I look after,” she says chuckling.

She motions for your phone.

“Here, let me put in my number,” she tells you, and you smile while handing her your phone, “We have to stick together, you know?”

“Thanks,” you tell her, “I’d love to get coffee sometime and get some advice. This is my first time being an Au Pair.”

Shae raises an eyebrow as she adds her number.

“Good luck with the Targaryens,” she tells you chuckling, “they can’t seem to hold onto an AP for more than a month.”

Your brow furrows and you glance at the boys. You can see Jace running across the soccer field and Luke on the other side with the younger boys. Joffrey plays on the playground, staying in your line of sight. You can’t help but smile.

“I don’t see why,” you tell her, “the boys are great. Very well behaved, impressive manners. Better than me.”

Shae laughs.

“It’s Daemon and Rhaenyra I’d be wary of,” Shae tells you, voice lowering with the nature of the conversation, “the last girl they had was doing fine until suddenly she’s signing an NDA and being shipped out of New York. I never spoke to her again.”

A chill rolls through you.

Jace calls your name, running over to you.

“Did you see what I did!” he says, a huge grin on his face, Luke trailing behind him.

“You were so awesome Jacey!” you tell him, ruffling his hair.

They’ve warmed up to you immediately.

You keep thinking about what Shae said all night. When you join the kids for dinner, Rhaenyra and Daemon do not, as they ended up having to work late. When you tuck them in and return to your room you find a small box on your bed.

You open it, revealing a small necklace. Dainty, and expensive, with a small pearl hanging off the chain.

A gift.

You pick up the card that goes with it.

For all your help, xx

There’s no signature. Though you suppose it must be from Rhaenyra. You blush at the kind gesture before retiring to bed for the night, curling up in the soft sheets with a book.

The next few weeks go smoothly, and without any fusses. The boys are lovely as ever and easy to drag around to different parks, activities, and school functions. They’re starting to feel like your little brothers, like your own children even. You journey with them to the weekend house, an hour outside the city, roasting marshmallows, swimming in the gorgeous pool, and taking them to get ice cream. It’s paradise, it’s a dream.

You see Rhaenyra more than Daemon, though she was right. He does seem to be warming up to you, glancing at you more, checking in on you. Sitting with you when you’re at the counter for breakfast. Letting a hand drift across your back as he passes by.

You keep finding gifts. A silk robe, a new purse, a pair of earrings that match the necklace given to you. Fresh flowers by your bedside. It’s very sweet of them, to be so welcoming. Almost romantic.

Later one night during the week, you can’t seem to find sleep.

You make your way to the kitchen, feet padding softly down the hallway. Rhaenyra had said to help yourself to anything, what’s theirs is yours. You’d been craving something sweet since dinner. Since moving into the highrise your palate has begun to adjust to the rich, expensive foods the chef makes and has begun to spoil you. You’re starting to wonder how you’ll ever go back to living normally when this job ends. It’s not something you want to think about. You’re determined to stay as long as possible.

You open the fridge, the light bathing the floor in front of you. You look around, moving things trying to find a treat. Their fridge is crazy stocked, full of fresh fruits and vegetables, and green juices. Things that sound good any time but now. Now you need chocolate.

“Looking for something?” a deep voice calls and you jump.

“Shit, you scared me, sir,” you say, holding your hand against your chest.

Daemon moves toward you from the shadows, silk pajama pants hanging low on his hips. He’s shirtless and you make a point to look at his lavender eyes. They’re almost black in the low light, a smirk dancing on his lips.

“I was just looking for something sweet,” you tell him, biting your lip.

“Something sweet, hmm?” he echoes, reaching around you to open the freezer.

You back up, suddenly very aware of your choice of pajamas. Another gift you’d found waiting on your bed, a silky red set. The tank top hands low, the shorts hugging the curves of your ass and thighs.

“Try this,” Daemon says, holding out some gelato.

You let out a breathy sigh.

“What?” Daemon asks, tilting his head curiously.

“Everything here is so fancy,” you tell him, “even the ice cream.”

“Isn't it nice to have expensive things?” he asks, unscrewing the lid and throwing it on the black marble counter.

“I don’t know if I’ll like it,” you tell him, nose scrunching.

He chuckles, cocking an eyebrow. Daemon reaches for a drawer, pulling out a long silver spoon, perfect for ice cream. He dips it into the gelato before bringing his violet eyes to yours.

“Open your mouth,” he murmurs, holding the spoon out to your lips.

With his seductive tone, the roughness of his voice floating over you like silk caressing your skin, you instinctively part your lips, accepting the sweet treat. It’s cold and sweet as it moves across your tongue, sliding down your throat. A bit dribbles on your lips as Daemon removes the spoon from the confines of your mouth. A small remnant of the cream lingers on the spoon and Daemon places it between his lips.

Your eyes are wide, watching him suck on it, and you can feel a blush creeping up your cheeks. He removes the spoon, licking his lips. You bring your hand to your lips wiping away the trace of cream that remains.

“Do you like it?” Daemon asks, voice gruff, eyes hungry for more than gelato.

“Yes,” you breathe.

He smiles and then places the container in your hand.

“Enjoy,” he tells you, before walking out of the kitchen.

You stay still, standing dumb for several minutes after he leaves, feeling the container of gelato begin to soften the longer you hold it. Snapping out of your trance, you hurry back to your room, closing the door behind you.

note: hope you enjoyed my loves! 😘

bold means I could not tag!

✨ click here to be added to taglist ✨

2K notes · View notes

hllywdwhre · 3 days

Text

Dreamer, Queen, Prince - Chapter 6

Pairing: Daemyra x fem!OC

Warnings: Please check masterlist for warnings. This work is 18+, MDNI

Masterlist

The next week was spent helping everybody leave the islands. Viserea watched as the last of the ships sailed away with the last of the Velaryon men on board. She felt Daemon’s hand rest on the small of her back and she looked up at him, unable to stop the smile that spread on her face as she saw him already looking down at her.

The two would spend the next year wherever they pleased. Daemon had promised to bring her to Essos to see the cities she had yet to visit and Viserea promised to show him Winterfell. She had warned him of the cold and snow, but he insisted on wanting to see it.

Daemon showed her all of the different cities he had visited before, spending weeks in a city at a time in each one. They showered each other in gifts and the attention they had never been able to show each other before. Letters were constantly exchanged with Rhaenyra and they both had a collection of gifts for her sent to Dragonstone.

Viserea had just finished reading one of Rhaenyra’s letters of her complaining of the men offering themselves to her on their last night in Pentos. They had spent almost two months there and were leaving for Winterfell in the morning where Viserea’s family had said they would gladly host the two of them and their dragons for as long as they wished to stay.

“She sounds miserable. I wish there was some way to help her or be there with her,” Viserea said, saddened at the entire situation. She wanted for Rhaenyra to be there with her and Daemon, for them to be able to explore the free cities together, for them to not have to go through the struggles they had to face in order to be together.

“Is my company not enough to entertain you?” Daemon asked, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her. He placed a kiss on her cheek as he looked over the letter in Viserea’s hands. Viserea chuckled at his teasing comment,

“No, it is not. I need you and Rhaenyra to keep me completely entertained,” Viserea told him with a playful smile on her face, turning her head to look up at him.

“You shall have us both in a matter of time. I will make sure of it.”

Viserea knew his words were true. Daemon would go to the ends of the earth to make sure the three of them ended up together and would let nothing stand in his way.

Viserea wrote Rhaenyra a response, asking where she would be heading next and telling her that she and Daemon would be visiting Winterfell for a few weeks. Only after the letter was sent did she allow for Daemon to pull her to their bed.

The flight to Winterfell took two days, and it was dusk when they had landed outside of the gates. Rickon welcomed them both as family and informed them that strict orders had been given not to communicate to anyone outside of Winterfell that the two were visiting.

The two only spent a fortnight in Winterfell before a letter from Rhaenyra arrived.

“She’s leaving Storm’s End and finishing the tour,” Viserea said, shock clear in her voice, “She said she’ll be returning to King’s Landing in three days time.” Viserea turned her attention to Daemon, her hands shaking slightly as they held the letter.

They were stood in the main courtyard, only joined by Rickon and his son, Cregan. Cregan was practicing his archery with Rickon’s guidance and Daemon and Viserea stood a couple paces back.

Daemon gently took the letter from Viserea, reading over it multiple times,

“We must leave for Dragonstone immediately if we are to return to King’s Landing the same day as Rhaenyra,” Daemon said, a slight sense of urgency in his voice.

“And the dragon and the dire wolf will be joined in marriage again,” Rickon said, interrupting the two with a smile on his face.

“As the fates would have it,” Viserea replied and returned his smile.

Rickon gave both of them a hug, bidding them farewell and sending them both away with a set of warm furs and an extra set for Rhaenyra.

The departure happened in a blur and the two took off on dragonback, flying through the night until they reached Dragonstone.

Amarda was the first to greet Daemon and Viserys as they pushed through the doors of the ancient castle. Viserea threw herself into Amarda’s arms, having missed her greatly.

“So the rumors are true,” Amarda said as the two pulled away.

“What is being said?” Daemon questioned immediately, protectiveness in his tone.

“That the two Princesses are separate and that Princess Viserea had joined you in the Stepstones, only to travel with you once the war was won,” Amarda answered. Her tone was not accusing or disapproving and it was surprisingly gentle.

“Then the talk is true, for once,” Daemon confirmed.

“We are here to be wed,” Viserea said at the same time, feeling the look of unease Daemon gave her.

Viserea knew Amarda would not be the one to cast stones at them and she was proven right when Amarda smiled,

“And what of Princess Rhaenyra?” Amarda asked, an eyebrow raising out of curiosity.

Daemon and Viserea exchanged a glance, unsure how to answer her question.

“I see…” she said knowingly, “Aegon, Visenya, and Rhaenys will be reunited eventually. The histories can repeat themselves, but that does not mean they will carry the same details.”

“She will be wed to us,” Viserea said firmly.

“But for now, Maester Gerardys is needed to wed the two of you,” Amarda said, turning her back and guiding Viserea and Daemon to the library, where they were met with Maester Gerardys’ figure bent over a table as he studied a large book.

He looked up as the three entered and immediately stepped in front of the table, bowing slightly as he greeted the two of them,

“My Prince, my Princess, your return to Dragstone is a welcome surprise. How can I be of service to you?” He asked, looking between the two.

“We wish to be wed in the traditions of Old Valyria,” Daemon replied and the two of them watched as the Maester’s face turned to shock.

“We need it to be completed today, as we must depart for King’s Landing as soon as the sun rises,” Viserea said after Daemon.

“What of the King’s blessing?” Maester Gerardys asked, clearly taken aback by the sudden turn of events.

“It is not needed for a wedding of Old Valyria,” Viserea said, her voice firm and final.

“You misunderstand me, Princess. I will perform the ceremony as I’m sure Amarda will witness it, you must understand my confusion though,” he replied, a small smile on his face as he tried to show he was not arguing with performing the ceremony.

“I do, but this must be performed with the utmost quickness. Daemon and I need to be wed,” Viserea said, taking a step towards Maester Gerardys and gently taking one of her hands in his, “You are the only one who can perform the ceremony. Do us this, please?” She asked him in a quiet voice.

Maester Gerardys smiled a moment later and nodded,

“Of course, Princess. You and the Prince shall be wed today,” he said, causing a wide smile to break upon Viserea’s face.

A moment later Viserea and Daemon were pulled by various help to separate chambers. They were bathed, dressed in the Valyrian gowns, and Viserea’s hair was now in a low placed and intricate braid. They both wore the traditional headpieces of a Valryian wedding and being walked to a cliff side, their hands intertwined together.

Viserea barely felt the slice of the dragonglass against her lip, or heard the words of Maester Gerardys. Her’s and Daemon’s attention seemed to only be on each other as his thumb gently marked her forehead with a symbol in her own blood. She took the dragonglass from Daemon and sliced his own lip, marking his forehead with a symbol. Each took turns slicing a line down their palms, then joining their hands together.

“Hen lantoti nogar. Va syndroti vãedroma. Mēro perzot gihoti. Elēdroma iārza sir. Izult ampã perzi. Prumi lanti steksi. Hen jeny mäzilarion. Qélossa ozúndesi. Syndroro oño jedo. Ry kivia mazvestraksi.” Maester Gerardys’ words seemed to float in the air around them.

Daemon reached for the goblet with his free hand and raised it to his lips before Viserea took the goblet and did the same.

There was no hesitancy as Daemon leaned down to kiss Viserea. She felt their blood mix and felt no sting of the wound on her lip as the kiss grew deeper. Their sliced palms remained firmly in each other’s and the two only pulled away when a gust of sea breeze blew past them and they remembered they were not the only two standing on the cliff side.

The two, now married, spent the rest of the day enjoying the place they felt was their true home. That night, they were quick to finally unleash the tensions they had felt since the night on the Stepstones. This time, there was no stopping as Daemon’s hands pulled the fabric off of Viserea’s body.

When the two awoke the next morning, they found themselves entangled again under the cover of the sheets.

As the sun rose over the eastern horizon, they made their way to their dragons and took flight to King’s Landing. Daemon wore the crown gifted to him by Corlys as he was named King of the Stepstones, a fact which Daemon reminded Viserea of and pointed out that it meant she was now the Queen of the Stepstones.

When they flew over the water nearing King’s Landing, they spotted the ship carrying Rhaenyra and, much to Viserea’s dismay, Daemon guided Caraxes down and flew dangerously close to the ship, causing it to rock. Viserea kept a safe distance as the ship steadied and followed Daemon and Caraxes on Tessarion to the pit.

The arrival of both the Princesses and the Prince had sent King’s Landing into a frenzy, though Daemon and Viserea received a warm welcome at the dragonpit with many of the caretakers commenting on how happy the town dragons seemed to be currently.

Daemon and Viserea made their way the Keep, both of them ignoring the many whispers as they walked through the castle and the Throne Room.

Neither of them received any announcement of their presence as they walked through the door. Daemon had Dark Sister sheathed at his left side and his left hand held the Crabfeer’s hammer, the crown Corlys made for him still sitting on his head. Viserea walked to his right and when she went to fall a step behind him, his hand came to her back and made sure she stayed in step with him.

Viserea’s eyes flickered to Rhaenyra for the briefest of seconds, just long enough for Rhaenyra to know she had seen her.

When they approached the foot of the Iron Throne, swords were drawn, though this did not stop Daemon as he walked until the point of one was placed against the armor across his chest. His right hand remained on the small of Viserea’s back, though none of the guard dared point a blade to her.

“Add it to the chair,” Daemon said, holding up the hammer for a moment before letting it clatter to the floor.

A member of the Kingsgaurd picked up the hammer and placed his sword back by his side while Daemon’s hands moved so they were crossed in front of him. Viserea kept her head high and her hands by her side, looking every bit as regal as Daemon did relaxed.

“You wear a crown,” Viserys pointed out, “Do you also call yourself “King”?”

“Once we smashed the triarchy, they named me “King of the Narrow Sea”, with Viserea becoming “Queen of the Narrow Sea” yesterday,” Daemon said, causing the crowd to break into a murmur. Before Viserys could respond though, Daemon continued, “But we know there is only one true king and queen, Your Grace.”

Viserea copied Daemon as he knelt before Viserys, looking up at Viserys when Daemon spoke again while removing the crown from his head.

“My crown and the stepstones… are yours.”

“Well, where is Lord Corlys?” Viserys asked, though his voice held only a fraction of the strength it had held when they first walked through the doors.

“He sailed home to Driftmark,” Viserea replied.

“Who holds the Stepstones?”

“The tides, the crabs, and the 2,000 dead Triarchy corsairs, staked to the sand to warn those who might follow,” Daemon answered.

Viserea felt her breath hitch in her throat as Viserys descended the stairs of the Iron Throne and approached them, but she nor Daemon flinched as they looked up at him. Daemon offered. Viserys his crown and Viserea saw Daemno look to their side, her gaze following to land on Otto.

When Viserys handed the crown to the same member of the Kingsgaurd who picked up the Crabfeeder’s hammer and Viserea and Daemon both looked up at Viserys.

He could have their heads in a second. Viserea’s final words to Viserys the year previous was more than enough of a reason to kill her, and Daemon had a long list of reasons the King could kill him.

“Rise,” Viserys said, his voice low and gravely.

Both stood at the same time and Viserea felt relief wash over her as Viserys and Daemon hugged, only to be pulled into a hug by Viserys herself a moment later.

“The realm owes you a great debt, brother,” Viserys said as he released Viserea.

“One that is owed to Viserea as well,” Daemon said, causing Viserys to look towards her and nod.

“Come, both of you,” he said, guiding them both out of the Throne Room and to the Courtyard.

Before the space became crowded, Viserys stood in front of the two of them. His eyes flashed to the cuts on their lips, still fresh and a bright red, incapable of being hidden.

“As of yesterday, Viserea was made your Queen,” Viserys said, quoting Daemon’s earlier words as his eyes moving to stare at Daemon, his voice impassive as he waited on an explanation of some sort.

“Yes. We were wed in the traditions of our ancestors-“

“And what about your lady wife in the Vale?” Viserys interrupted, the anger beginning to seep into his voice.

“She died two weeks ago. I received the raven. She fell ill and the fever did not leave her,” Daemon explained.

“So you wed my daughter a fortnight later?” Viserys accused.

“It was my idea,” Viserea said, her voice seeming to remind Viserys that she was still there, “I apologize for not seeking your blessing, but it is what we both wanted.”

Viserys looked between the two for a long minute and, upon seeing that Viserea remained confident in her words, took them as the truth and sighed.

“I told you and Rhaenyra you could pick your own husbands. I apologize for not allowing you to accept Harwin Strong’s proposal, but I suppose I gave my blessing when I said you could choose your own husband,” he said, clearly not wanting to start another argument that ended with his family separated again.

“Thank you. Although not in the traditional order, your blessing is still a relief and honor to have,” Viserea replied.

As the two brothers began speaking of their childhoods, Viserea tuned them out, her eyes searching for Rhaenyra as each new person entered the courtyard. Alicent soon came to join them and the two exchanged enough words to be seen as civil and polite, but Daemon’s hand came to rest on the small of Viserea’s back and he pulled Viserea slightly closer to him.

Rhaenyra joined them at the end of a conversation about how Alyssa held no interest in tradition or customs and Rhaenyra chimed in,

“Congratulations on your victory, and on your marriage,” she said, smiling at them both.

When Viserys refused to look at Rhaenyra and only raised his goblet to his lips, Daemon spoke,

“Thank you, Princess.”

A long moment of silence followed that was broken by Alicent, offering to take Viserea and Daemon on a tour of the gallery to show them the new tapestries gifted by Norvos and Qohor. No matter her distaste for Alicent, Viserea felt sorry for her when her kind offer was made a joke of by Viserys as he laughed at the idea of Daemon having interest in them.

“I’d like to see them,” Rhaenyra said, her previous smile vanishing.

“Oh, well, then you should not deprive yourself,” Viserys said dismissively, causing Viserea’s anger to spike, though she kept her face blank.

“I shall enjoy them alone,” Rhaenyra replied, turning and walking away.

Daemon, Viserea, and Alicent’s eyes all followed her as she walked to a bench in the corner of the courtyard and Viserys began insisting that Daemon was always Alyssa’s favorite.

Alicent motioned for Viserea to follow as they both walked to Rhaenyra. Viserea allowed Alicent the seat next to Rhaenyra,

“I surmise the tour did not go well,” Alicent started.

“I endured it for as long as I could,” Rhaenyra said, glancing to Viserea as a small smile forced its way onto Viserea’s face as she remembered the many letters filled with Rhaenyra’s complaints.

“To have every young knight and lord in the Seven Kingdoms fawning over you…” Alicent started, looking to Rhaenyra with a joking smile on her face, “What misery.” Rhaenyra looked up to Alicent and Alicent continued on, “It is rare for girls in this realm to get a choice between two suitors, no less two score of them.”

“Those men and boys don’t fawn over me. They only want my name and my Valyrian blood for their offspring,” Rhaenyra argued.

“I think it’s rather romantic,” Alicent said, scooting closer to Rhaenyra and the two chuckled.

“How romantic it must be to get imprisoned in a castle and made to squeeze out heirs.”

Viserea could see it the moment the words left Rhaenyra’s mouth. She immediately regretted them and Alicent’s face fell, her lip trembling slightly. It was a harsh reminder that, while the two had felt betrayed by Alicent, Rhaenyra more so than Viserea, that Alicent had not had much of a choice in her marriage to Viserys either. She had the choice to go to him in his chambers the first night and to keep their visits a secret, but rejecting the King’s proposal could not be done. She was as much trapped in duty as they were, especially now.

Rhaenyra took Alicent’s hand in her own and Viserea didn’t stop herself as she moved to stand directly beside Alicent and place a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“How angry is he?” Rhaenyra asked.

“The King went through great effort to arrange your tour. He is… frustrated. But I am glad you are home… both of you,” she said, throwing a glance to both Rhaenyra and Viserea as her voice filled with emotion and she dropped her head a moment later. “I find I have few friends lately. I like to believe I’m still the Lady Alicent, but… all anyone sees when they look at me now is “‘The Queen.’” She said with a sarcastic smile on her face.

Viserea gently squeezed Alicent’s shoulder and she couldn’t deny the empathy she felt for her. Although she and Viserea may not have been the great friends she and Rhaenyra had been, Alicent had still been someone Viserea viewed as someone who she could go to. This was not a thought Alicent could express to Viserys or Otto. Viserea and Rhaenyra had felt alone the past few years, but they had at least had each other. Alicent had been truly alone.

“I’ve missed you, too,” Rhaenyra said, taking Alicent’s hand in her own again as the two exchanged an emotional smile.

After a moment of silence, Alicent looked up at Viserea,

“Do tell us of your year spent with Daemon and the wedding. I was shocked when I heard Daemon say you were Queen of the Stepstones,” Alicent said, smiling up at her.

Viserea began explaining their time they had spent traveling, changing around some details to avoid revealing that most of it was planned so that she, Daemon, and Rhaenyra might be together one day. Viserea told Alicent of how she had visited many different places and how Daemon had met her family in Winterfell, and of how they had only been wed the day prior. She made it seem to be a coincidence that they arrived back the same day as Rhaenyra, telling Alicent that Viserea had convinced Daemon to go to Viserys and apologize and that now that she and him were married, it would hopefully mean Viserys would be more forgiving. She told Alicent that it had been Daemon’s idea to hand his crown over to Viserys, which it had been.

One by one, the courtyard cleared and Alicent eventually left with Viserys, leaving only Daemon, Rhaenyra, and Viserea in the courtyard.

“The two of you have traveled much in the last year,” Rhaenyra said, a slight tinge of jealousy clear in her voice.

“It was not the same without you,” Viserea said, the longing in her voice matching Rhaenyra’s jealousy.

“Soon, little dragons. Nothing will stop us,” Daemon promised, his hand going to pick up the necklace he had gifted Rhaenyra years ago. “For now, I crave the comforts of home.”

“I had not thought the two of you to be particularly comfortable in this home. Though I do suppose you seem changed by your adventures,” Rhaenyra said as she and Viserea followed Daemon to the table lined with food and drinks, “More mature, perhaps,” she added a moment later.

“I was surprised by the Princesses maturity a year ago, and you seem to have matured yourself the past four years, Princess. You’ll get used to the attention,” he promised, bring a smile to Rhaenyra’s face as she looked away from Viserea and Daemon’s gaze on her.

“The attention I can endure. It’s the rest I could do without,” Rhaenyra pointed out, looking between the both of them as she spoke, “My father seems content to sell me off to whichever lord has the biggest castle.”

“We will not let that happen,” Viserea said, luckily her words being covered by Daemon’s own response as there were still a few handmaidens standing outside beginning to clean up.

“There are worse things to be sold for,” Daemon covered, his hand on Viserea’s back as he guided them to sit on the bench on the opposite side of the table.

“He views marriage as only a political arrangement,” Viserea said, looking up at Rhaenyra as she leaned against the table.

“Once you are married, you can do as you like,” Daemon added. Rhaenyra and Viserea exchanged glances, knowing that it was the way it was for men, but never for women.

“For men marriage might be a political arrangement, but for women it can be a death sentence,” Rhaenyra argued.

“Would this it were, I would have been rid of my Bronze Bitch ages before I was.” Daemon offered Rhaenyra the goblet he was holding, which she accepted as she replied.

“Your wife was fortunate. Your new wife more so. You didn’t put a child in her, and if you do this one, it will be one you both want.”

Viserea could not stop the blush that rose to her cheeks at the mention of Daemon and Viserea’s child being one they would want, even if the conversation was far from a romantic one. Daemon looked at Viserea with a smirk on his face, taking her hand in his.

“I doubt a child could grow in such hostile environs. Something my new wife will not have an issue with,” Daemon said, causing both Rhaenyra and Viserea to let out short laughs at his insult, though neither laughs were their true ones.

Both Rhaenyra and Viserea still felt terrified at the idea of having children, as it was what caused the death of both of their mothers.

“My mother was made to produce heirs until it killed her. I will not subject myself to the same fate, and I hope she does not meet the same fate as her mother,” Rhaenyra said, motioning to Viserea.

Daemon reached for Viserea’s hand, holding it in a tight yet unpainful grip.

“What happened to both of your mother’s was a tragedy, but this is a tragic world. You cannot live your lives in fear, or you will forsake the best parts of it,” he said, his eyes trained on Rhaenyra as his thumb ran along Viserea’s hand.

“I have no desire to live in fear,” Rhaenyra said firmly, her eyebrows furrowed together, “Only solitude until I can have the two I want.”

Viserea stood, Daemon’s grip on her hand falling, and hugged Rhaenyra to her. To anyone else, it would look as if the two cousins were simply happy to be together again. They didn’t hear as Viserea whispered Valyrian words of promises they would be together and that nothing would stop them.

Once Viserea had sat back beside Daemon again, he spoke,

“Such a lonely prospect. One you should not endure for long.”

#rhaenyra x you #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rhaenyra targaryen fanfic #rhaenyra x daemon #rhaenyra x y/n #rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra targeryan #queen rhaenyra #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon x y/n #daemon x you #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x reader #daemyra #daemon x rhaenyra #daemon targaryen #daemyra x oc #daemyra x reader

28 notes · View notes

darlingofvalyria · 6 months

Text

As the Princess of the Realm's most favoured maid, there are certain liberties you are privy to demand. Jealousy of the people surrounding your lady is not one of them. Amused, Rhaenyra wishes to show her jealous little darling that there is nothing to worry about.

╰┈➤ PROMPTS ❝ MIND MANIPULATION, BLOOD PLAY ❞

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 2,763 ] [ masterlist ] | Vampire!Rhaenyra Targaryen x Maid!Reader

contains— smut, fluff - monsterfucking, hurt/comfort, jealousy, allusions to murders and kidnapping (not reader), mind manipulation, mentions of blood - this is a darkish fic - nsfw: monsterfucking, v and v sex, blood play(?), thigh riding, dubcon - no betas.

a/n— countess bathory rhae version. + Quick note: I don't actually remember/know if a crown princess is higher in stature to a queen consort. I know a queen at least is higher than a crown princess... but in this fic, i'm making it so that a king's direct/crowned heir is higher in status to that of a queen consort, as in what i want you to understand here that a king's chosen heir has bigger power than someone who is only married to royalty and title. this is of course different than the show but eh. + comment, reblog & like at will, mi luvs, mwa!

You understand why they salivate after her like starved dogs for a hunt. Prowling, on the verge of humping the very ground she walks on.

Your princess is every consonant and vowel of her royal visage and title, adorned in jewels and gold, Valyrian steel interlaced across her throat and waist. Fat rubies in her ears, weighted layers of gold gleam across her collarbone with a Valyrian steel necklace that strung an almost black amethyst drop nestled in her bosom.

Rings of all kind adorned her fingers as she held a goblet, amused by whatever topic the Riverland Lord was saying with gusto, fat stomach straining against a leather belt.

In any feast, she is the star, unable to be shadowed by her enemies now that her confidence had bloomed. She presided every conversation, lords and ladies following her red mouth as much as her words, dominating circles of power with ease that surpassed her gender.

The Heir to the Iron Throne. The Realm's Delight.

You had never been prouder to say you serve such a woman, body and soul.

And at the same time, you cannot help the feeling of jealousy to flash like a quick strike of a dagger. It is not your mistress' fault that people stave off the attention she gives them. It isn't their fault either as you understand the sentiment. Once you've played in her hand, you are evermore enraptured by her.

But you're different. In a way.

As soon as the lord— a Lord Erodd Mudd, a vassal of House Tully who had proudly proclaimed to be an eager follower of the future Black Queen, henceforth his vassals flooding gifts and compliments to your princess — had gotten too close for comfort and too red from the overflowing Arbor Red, that as soon as you see the quick flash of Princess Rhaenyra's comfort threatened, you spring into action.

You move about dancing bodies and beautifully crafted ladies to get to her, your eye meeting her sword shield, the Ser Strong, with a nod. You know your strengths and weaknesses; wrangling a drunken lord physically is not one of them. Neither is a violent drunk, and there had been enough unsavoury gossip of the Lord Mudd for you to be on edge the minute he approached the princess.

You take a low bow in front of them at your sudden interruption, your voice calm but firm. "My princess, the Prince Joffrey is ready to be put to bed."

Rhaenyra smiles, gladdened of your quick feet and quicker thinking. "Thank you—"

"Audacious!" Lord Mudd squeaks, the spittle and stench of alcohol almost makes you grimace. Almost. "The princess is talking to a lord, she does not want—"

"— the princess does not permit others to speak on her behalf, much less about what she wants or thinks," you can't help but snap. "Please refrain yourself from doing so, my lord."

He purples in offence, fist shaking that you sidle up to move in front of the princess. "Oh why, how dare—"

You let out a breathless exhale at the appearance of Breakbones and his meaty hand on the lord's shoulder. "My lord. I'm afraid you've enough to drink. The night grows long." As the lord opens his mouth to retort, Harwin's smile sharpens is enough of a warning that he swallows and jerkily nods.

He bows to Rhaenyra. "G-good night, your grace."

Rhaenyra smiles amusedly, as if she is letting you in on a joke. "And to you, my lord. I will have a maestre prepare a concoction my... little brother uses in a time of head aches. He so prefers the sweet Red such as you."

As he bows again gratefully, Lord Mudd manages to shoot you a final glare before being escorted by Ser Harwin. For a brief moment as the revelry continues on, most guests now well into their cups and dreams to kiss your princess' arse, she laughs quietly in the privacy of your closure.

You snort softly. "I am glad the night has amused you thus far, my princess."

She giggles again. "How can I not? You had been glaring at the poor fool for the better time of the night. He had thought that he had offended me in some way, and was trying to appease with all sorts of ridiculous promises."

"Hm. What can a small vassal house by the name that means 'wet dirt' could possibly offer the princess of the realm?" You can't help but be haughty. Though you do recognise you are being a bit unfair to the lord, for he isn't just the only one who had pried the attention of the princess all night.

"A pretty new maid," Rhaenyra muses, making your blood freeze. "He said he's got a pretty collection of wenches, all well trained by his mother, whom I do know has a heavy teeth with her servants. Lord Tully has endorsed them so. Lady Tully as well. Oh, and that he has daughters fit to be ladies in waiting, should I want for more... high browed ladies."

You inhale deeply. "It is indeed... a good idea to expand your ladies. You are the Heir, higher in stature to the Queen Consort who has an army of ladies both in Great Houses and Vassals." You nod jerkily. "It is a smart idea, my princess."

Rhaenyra smirks, enjoying far too much the inner turmoil of your little head. You don't notice it, as you had perfected serving her for such a time and she is sure onlookers would see only a lady conversing with her maid, but when you are upset and trying not to show it, you blink three times as if wrangling your thoughts in order. There is only a small dip in your serene mouth that always makes her want to press it. Move it around. Then maybe bite you.

But if she touched you now, she would not stop. She knows her hunger very well, and in preparation for the three-day celebrations as well as handling her duties between council meetings and audiences with the common folk— she had not drank in a while.

If she touches you now, there would be no care for titles or eyes.

When she shudders faintly at the image, your keen eye sees it immediately. You see the faint pallor, the inch of peakiness. She had been consuming more and more raw meat, but animals barely curb the thirst.

"Shall I prepare your feast, my princess?"

She blinks at you, surprised. "My feast? Surely this is enough."

You're unable to stop your sigh as you look away. "My princess, surely, you don't think such a feat should go unrewarded? Lords of Great Houses are swayed to your cause. Their vassals are following suit. Even if a Great Council is demanded once more in your reign, the tide will turn for your favour."

"You do not know that." Rhaenyra laughs lightly as you are already shaking your head. "We should not tempt fate."

"You had been doing your duty unto the realm as its heir and its delight. We are tempering any whisper of revolt. Your win is marked in stone," you insist. "A reward is only just."

You scoot closer, pinching your voice low. Rhaenyra holds her breath with a sharp intake of air, a coil, nothing but a whisper, of your scent finds her nostrils and her hunger tightens in her stomach that her fangs sharpen. She bites her bottom lip hard.

"My apologies," you whisper. "But I know your hearing turns mortal when you have not eaten in a while. You must eat. The bustle for the celebration has been a good excuse to hire more alongside what we needed."

Her eyes flash. "... Maidens?"

"At least four of them, my princess."

She gasps, inhaling quickly and your scent comes first, the sweet imprint of your blood hums her own, but her eyes widen at the thick stench of maidens right in her room. Your gift. For your beloved. You smile, despite the niggling, pinch of jealousy that has a thick hold on your neck and Rhaenyra can smell it.

"The revelries will continue on," you say with finality, bowing. "The Prince Jacaerys is doing well with the Northern delegates thus far, and the Young Prince Lucerys has charmed the pirate lords from the Free Cities, as well as the Dornish Prince and his... mistresses. We are well here. I will keep an eye on your heirs. Enjoy yourself, my princess."

The revelries go well into the Hour of Owl before you give nod to the last of the guards and servants tasked with ensuring the more raucous guests find their way to their beds, moving along the quiet flutter of candlelight and sharp, slanting shadows like a wraith. Or a ghost. No one pays you any mind, and they know better.

You sweep straight into the princess' apartments, locking the doors behind you. The iron stench of blood is already thick here, seeping through the corners and clinging to the tapestries. You're used to it, even if the first times had been shaky in your memories. But your actions are a routine, moving to the tub filled thick with blood, almost to the brim, moving a finger through it, beads of blood clinging to you when you raise your hand, falling in slops back to the tub.

You hum along your duties, the actions of a routine is familiar... if not surgically placed into your mind, though the uncomfortable reminder strikes your head in a low, dull thud. Worrisome thought is a blunt knife to the steel guard your princess has wrought in your head.

For your protection, my sweet, Rhaenyra had purred, feeling her nails scratch in the fragments of your malleable brain.

Candles are flickering by the time your princess strides into her room, the heavy door deadbolting with a heavy thud. The stench of blood and her scent— grapefruit and vanille, a touch of something more ancient, cloying and heavy — thickens as you bow, your fingers in unlacing and getting her off the bloodied dress. It’s relatively clean, and she throws you a smirk for it. She knows you hate having to share just as much as she, and knows even better you would never make much fuss, but your chest warms at her thoughtfulness regardless.

She sinks with ease, a low, satiated hum escapes her lips.

“I will assume this is another present?” she teases. “No maidens?”

“Not after the Lannisport incident, no.” You regard her weightily but she only laughs. Sunk in blood, her paleness almost makes her glow. A goddess if nothing else. But her cheeks are also fuller, vibrancy clinging to her gold spun hair and gaze. “These were just as much eager to serve the crown as the young women were eager to serve their princess.”

Rhaenyra’s laugh is spoilt as much as it is indulgent. “And I am assuming you never told them the length or width of their servitude?”

She really does feel much better if she is in such a teasing mood.

“No,” theres a petulant, almost offended notch in your tone that you dont hide as well, if youre ever truly trying to hide it. The day wanes and the moon waxes, and you have been obedient all day.

Rhaenyra bites her lip. You have been good. And deserving. She leans forward, pressing herself back. “Come.”

You still, holding onto her oils. “I still have to wash your hair, princess, it has been an arduous day."

“It has, and you have done so well in pleasing me that I require you here, with me.” Her voice pitches, irises molting to a startling black. Your spine straightens and your gaze glosses. She hums, delighted to see that the full force of her prowess is back. Though it isnt truly much. The strings from your mind and body is one that she has owned long before. “Take off your dress, sweet girl, thats it, faster— and here, right on top of me.”

You are awake and dreaming, its a state you know quite well, but you move where she wants you, your strings hers for the taking, and you are up to your navel in blood before your mind catches up with thought that you are bare, bare before your princess as she looks up, her hands, soft and cold and wet with blood, moulding against the divots of your soft flesh.

She pulls you down with ease, so careful with your skin. Her hunger though fulfilled, the remnants of the creature within her still breathes. Your heartbeat is a siren song and the urge to devour you, to sink her teeth right in that throbbing, fluttering pulse— four maidens down her belly and her hunger for you is still so strong.

Your mind is your own when you have settled righto n her thighs, bracketing her between your own. A shuddering gasp leaves your mouth as she draws her hands from thighs to your centre to your breast to your jaw, pulling you to meet her mouth in a soft exploration between tongue and teeth.

It is kissing for beasts, for creatures trying to find pleasure unknown to them but hungering for it; her tongue tangling with yours, licking at the roof your mouth, her teeth, sharpened, tugging and grating against your soft lips. It is gluttonous as it is guttural, and you feel debased. But you like it, you like the clouding of your mind from pleasure, chasing the hums from her throat and smiling from her little laughs.

It is no wonder that your body craves, hips moving in an insistent, errant sway against her thigh that she laughs once more, finish suckling a bruise on your arched neck.

"Sīr needy hae iā līve, So needy like a whore," she purrs against your skin. "Are you my," she grips your buttocks and pulls you to her, though you stumble, you are still relatively on your knees and your pearl that is craving for attention hits against her stomach and you gasp, "little whore?"

"Yes," you murmur, arms wounding against her neck as she adjusts you more comfortably on her lap, watching intensely at your pleasure as she sits you down and starts moving your hips in a rhythm. "Y-yes I am."

She snakes a hand between you to pinch at your clit. You jolt.

"Manners."

"Yes, my queen!" You sob, head falling on her shoulder as your hips go faster, the blood is spilling, the smell of iron is so strong it fills your lungs, but your first relief is near and Rhaenyra hates denying you pleasure.

Even her punishments have always been to over feed you your own pleasure, indulge in the staccato wails broken by whines as your last peak has barely finished before she is making you reach it again.

"There she is, my sweet girl."

She helps your thighs, moving you faster and faster as she drinks in your skewered brows and hanging mouth, taking a breast into her mouth and laving it with her tongue, groaning at the blood and suckling deep. You will be blooming with bruises come morn and she cannot wait to see the spring she has created on your skin. You are so delicate, so... human. Your fragility is a beauty she enjoys.

Like right now, when your pleasure catches up to you fast and she has made it a mission not to touch your cunt at all, maintaining your movement even as you whine deep in your chest, your forehead falling to her shoulder as you twitch and shudder. When you garble her name, falling your please, p-please, 'smuch, she stops, running her hands instead to your sides, cupping your breasts faintly before she's nudging against your nose until you give in with what she is silently asking: soft, tugging kisses.

"Deep breaths, sweet one," she whispers against your mouth when she pulls away, "I will take more of your pleasure. All the sweet maidens in these lands are nothing to the taste of you." For emphasis, her other hand is already between your thighs, brushing insistently against your pearl.

Teasing, always teasing. You shudder.

"Your pleasure is much your reward as it is mine. Now, once more. On my fingers." She bares her fangs, another light laugh that tugs at your core because it is full of promises. "Then against my cunt."

Because Rhaenyra gives as much as she takes.

And she wants everything you... 'willingly' give.

#rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra smut #rhaenyra targaryen fanfiction #kinktober 2023 #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra x you #rhaenyra fanfic #hotd smut #hotd x you #︶꒦꒷♡ elle tries kinks ♡꒷꒦︶#elle writes !! ꒱ ↷˗ˏˋ🍒

233 notes · View notes

arabellasleopardcoat · 10 months

Note

Rhaenyra x reader with incest if it hasn’t already been crossed out?

Baby teeth (Rhaenyra Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Cousins. You hate them or you love them. And Rhaenyra knows exactly how she feels about you.

Warnings: Incest. One use of Daddy.

Requested: Yes! The first one I fill, too. Here you go! I hope you enjoy this, since it’s my first time writing Rhaenyra.

There is something dangerous about the boredom of young maidens. That’s what Septa Marlow used to say. Rhaenyra never understood it properly. Not until now.

As you entered the Hall, hot in Daemon’s heels and with an expression of absolute contempt, she wondered what could possibly be your reason for coming. It was well known that you two weren’t friends. Viserys and Daemon made actual efforts to keep you apart, after a particularly nasty episode during your shared childhood.

Even at four years old, you were a nasty little thing. All the worst parts of Daemon and Rhea Royce, rolled into one. Rhaenyra had taken your favorite doll, arguing that she was a Princess and so deserved to have it. You had dug your little baby teeth into her calf so hard, she still wore the evidence of your wrath.

Back then, Rhaenyra had wailed for hours, as Viserys rubbed her back. Daemon had tried to get you to apologize, and you had just stuck out your little chin defiantly and refused to budge.

“It was mine.” You had said. Daemon, new to parenthood and not sure about how to handle you, had passed you to his wife. They had argued for hours, screaming for the whole Red Keep to hear. Daemon said your mother hadn’t raised you right. Rhea had screamed back that you had inherited his nasty nature.

If she had to choose a memory to define your personality, she would pick that afternoon. Demon child that you were, you had sat outside their room, playing with your doll. Rhaenyra never again forgot your triumphant smile.

About to become a married woman in less than two days, Rhaenyra finally understood what Septa Marlow meant about boredom of young girls. It was not achieved in an exemplary show of self reflection, no. Exempt as she was now from those silly lessons, Rhaenyra barely gave it more thought than she gave to her childhood bedtime stories.

It was from looking at you, that it started to make sense. Not because you were purity, respect, and shy subservience all incarnate, but because you weren’t. When Viserys had felt like a particularly invested parent, he used to compare you to her.

“Look at your cousin.” He would say. “Daemon tells me she is great at the harp. And she attends to the Sept daily.”

It had fueled her to be better. Because she hated you. She despised you. You had bitten her, like some sort of feral cat. You were not a Princess, but a mere Lady, yet seemed to show her in every area that you dedicated yourself to, according to Viserys.

Either Daemon had lied to him, or he had lied to her. Because did a proper lady show up to a wedding in a black and bronze dress cut in the dornish fashion? No, she did not. Yet as you walked towards the high table behind your father, Rhaenyra could not help but admire you. There was a confusing beauty in your exposed arms and collarbones, in the barest hint of a thigh that could be seen from the side when your gown moved.

It was a surprise to no one that Daemon crashed the wedding. After all, it was in his style to do so. No one bated an eyelash at it. Instead, all eyes were on you. Your gown was a statement if Rhaenyra ever saw one. House Royce stood proud today, not House Targaryen.

She wondered what Daemon thought about it. Not only were you wearing a risqué gown, but you were making a declaration. You were the daughter of Rhea Royce, and you wouldn’t be silenced. A brave stand, especially if the rumors were to be true.

Rhaenyra had heard about it, of course. Your mother’s passing and the alleged hand Daemon had had in it. You looked to be the only one looking for justice for Rhea Royce. Rhaenyra understood the feeling well. Too often, Targaryen men disregarded women in favor of advancing their ambitions.

Hadn’t Daemon done that to her in a ploy to get her off the race for the Iron Throne? Left her there, standing in the middle of a brothel, possibly to face her ruin? She betted he would have not been so happy, so easily pulled away, if it were you in that brothel. He would have burned it down and salted the earth to protect his little dragon.

You were oblivious to it, of course. But the only time that Daemon had been in agreement with Otto Hightower had been when Viserys shyly suggesting taking you as a wife. The row had been explosive, or so she had been told. One arguing that he was King and could do as he wished, Otto screaming it was giving Daemon too much power, and Daemon screaming that he was a perverted old man.

He had not seemed to care about the age difference so much in regard to her, though. Hypocrite. Yet love had a way, it appeared, of bending one’s moral compasses. Or making one grow one, in the case of Daemon.

She envied you for that, too. While Viserys had been willing to pawn her off to an old man or a child, Daemon had been insistent on finding you an age appropriate match. It was why you were still unmarried, despite being only two years younger than her.

As her father pulled a chair for you and Daemon to sit, Alicent made her own entrance, wearing a green gown. The same color Oldtown lit up in when Hightowers went to war.

“It seems she has outdone me.” You pouted, towards no one in particular. Your voice was different from what Rhaenyra remembered. Deeper and accented. You spoke in the clipped tones those in the Vale had, more proper for calling horses than noble speech. It reminded her of her mother.

“It’s my wedding, cousin.” Rhaenyra narrowed her eyes at you. Why did you have to show off all the time? You came in here, looking more like a Royce than a Targaryen and had to flaunt it in everyone's faces. “Neither of you are supposed to outdone me.”

“Girls, girls.” Her father placated, placing a hand on her arm. Rhaenyra glared. You glared at her, right back. “You both look gorgeous tonight. No need to fight.”

“Ah, right. How could I possibly forget?” You whispered, right back. “It’s all about Princess Rhaenyra tonight. And every other night. With my father, with yours…” You trailed off, bitterly. Daemon smiled at Viserys, tense. No one wanted the reminder of what had happened between Rhaenyra and him.

The Velaryons, meanwhile, look between the attendants with polite masks. But Rhaenyra can tell Rhaenys is just dying to say something. She is not very fond of her and your comment has given her the ammunition she needed.

Alicent tries to interject, perhaps redirect the conversation, but Rhaenyra is not listening. All she can see are your defiant eyes.

If you wanted to play, it was fine by her. Rhenyra was more than willing to go a few rounds. Her ego was bruised enough that she doubted anything you could say would actually hurt her. But it didn’t mean she had to tolerate your disrespect laying down.

“Dearest cousin, I notice you growing a bit thick on the hips. Tell me, have you traded the dragon for the horse?”

Lyonel Strong nearly spits out his wine. You give him a sweet smile and then say something that freezes both Rhaenyra and Alicent.

“Oh, not so often as you do. I heard you went riding with your white cloak. Where is he? I thought he might appreciate my dress tonight.”

Rhaenyra sees red. It’s the only explanation because she is dreadfully rude. She throws you the half of a pomegranate, which you gracefully catch.

Viserys laughs awkwardly.

“I think we should begin the feast. The Lady Targaryen is looking famished.”

“Of course.” Daemon immediately caught on, following his brother’s lie. Rhaenyra wanted to slap him. Was it him, who had slipped that piece of gossip to you? “How considerate of my niece for noticing.”

“She has grown into a fine flower. Although not without thorns.” Viserys whispers to Daemon, much to Rhaenyra’s disgust. It’s evident that he is talking about you. Was it only the distance from court, what kept you from taking Alicent’s place? Would her father have married you if Daemon had offered you?

After all, you have all his worst qualities. After nearly tangling in the sheets of the man, Rhaenyra is not afraid to admit it.

As if taunting her, you flash her a feral little grin. Pearly teeth on full display, you bite savagely into the pomegranate. Rhaenyra’s calf throbs in sympathy.

Her eyes are fixated only on you. She ignores Laenor’s attempt at making conversation. There is a drop of red juice gathering on your lower lip. There is a sudden urge to rub her thumb over it. Of pinching the appendix with her teeth and biting until she draws blood, all rabid hound.

Cousins. You hate them, or you love them, there is no middle point. The drop slips lower, towards your chin. You have the manners of a peasant, smearing the juices all over your face. Messy girl.

“Is there something on my face?” You ask a very flustered Corlys Velaryon, licking your lips. Daemon tuts in disapproval, but does nothing. Rhaenys looks on the verge of slapping you, but most men in the hall seem to enjoy the display. Even righteous Criston Cole looks your way for a second.

A droplet of juice travels down, down, down, between your collarbones and towards the valley of your tits. She thinks of biting down the soft hollow of your throat and not letting go until you were sweet. “Cousin, please.” Pretty eyes filled with tears, mouth agape. She can see it so clearly… Blood on your throat, all over that pretty little dornish number… Rhaenyra blinks. A trick of the light, surely. For a second, it looked like you actually were covered in blood.

“Daughter.” Daemon says, and tenderly cleans your lips with a napkin. His hands linger a little too long on your throat. Rhaenyra doesn’t know whether he wants to strangle you or is genuinely trying to clean you up and preventing yourself from making a spectacle. She understands both urges. “Please. Why don’t you go greet your other cousins?”

You give him a sultry look, from beneath your lashes. Another pout.

“Oh, Daddy…” You purr, and it’s clearly not directed at him, but to the man your eyes are fixated on. Corlys Velaryon, yet again shifting uncomfortably on his seat. Daemon clenches his fist. Her father clears her throat and gives Rhaenyra a pointed look. Get her out here, his eyes seem to say. Before Daemon punches your future father-in-law and ruins your wedding. “You are no fun.”

“Cousin.” Rhaenyra says, all high and airy. In truth, she too wants these men to stop looking at you. You are hers. Disrespectful fools, can’t they see you already claimed her? “Care for a dance?”

“Of course, Princess. Thought you never ask.” And you get up, insolent little brat that you are, and take her hand. Was it all a ploy? Were you flirting with Corlys Velaryon only to get her alone?

Insufferable brat, that you are. Of course you were.

She wonders, sometimes, what is it, that you want. You don’t care for her. You are as much of a spoiled princess as she is, yet you refuse to see it. Embracing the Royce side of your heritage favored your delusions of normalcy. Learning to hawk and hunt, riding as well as any man would. You have a dragon, of course, but it wears the Royce’s sigil proudly on its neck, and not one of the Targaryen collars.

What is it that you want? Rebel against Daemon? You resent him, surely. For leaving when you were a mere girl, and showing up to the Vale when you are a woman grown, expecting you to bend to his will. Rhaenyra can understand that. She, too, has been babied by Targaryen men. Not even Daemon, despite his lust, sees her as a woman.

It must make for an interesting dynamic. You are headstrong. So it’s Daemon. In your eyes, he abandoned you and your mother to go fight his little war and then tried to get his marriage annulled, making you a bastard, all in a ploy to bed his niece and take the throne. Said niece is only two years your senior and childhood nemesis.

She has heard you are soon to be married, but not yet to whom. Her father leans towards marrying you to Harwin Strong, son of his Hand. A way to keep Daemon under control. The match is slightly more age appropriate. They had yet to decide the problems of inheritance, though.

Rhaenyra doubts Harwin will want you, a dark, bad behaved thing who is always on edge. She has caught him looking at her more than a few times, and you are nothing alike. Oil and water. Well, more like silver and bronze.

As you walk together towards the makeshift dance floor, hand in hand, the crowd parts for you. Rhaenyra lifts her head, proudly. The music that is playing is fit for a couple’s dance, no doubt playing in hopes of luring her and Laenor to dance.

It will not be happening today, it seems. Because Rhaenyra places you in the line along with the women, taking her place among the men. Your hands feel warm in Rhaenyra’s hands, and she smiles. A true Targaryen always runs hot.

You smile back. Rhaenyra circles you, almost predatory. She drinks you in. The untamed spirit. The bewitching eyes. The bristles of teenage rebellion you have yet to shed.

The best parts of Daemon. What had pulled her in. Yet, not the same. Not at all.

You circle back, eyes narrowed. At the high table, your fathers watch. Both of them are pleased by what seems to be the end of the hostilities. They have no idea how you vex Rhaenyra, with those enchanting eyes of yours. How much she wants to find out what's inside that pretty skull, what makes you tick.

Then, the unexpected. As Rhaenyra extends her hand, about to make you twirl, you twirl her instead. Taking the lead from her. You twirl her, and as she comes out of it, it turns into a battle for dominance again. Rhaenyra starts doing the figures for the male partner a little more aggressively, clapping near your ear and forcing you to move to her will.

You struggle, at first. Then you give in. Sweet little cousin that you are, submitting to your Princess and future Queen. Yet, your smile is as ferocious as ever, shiny teeth just begging to sink into her and pull. Feral. As always.

The dance finishes with the two of you standing close, so close Rhaenyra can count every one of your lashes. Your chest rises and falls, lifting your tits tantalizingly. She thinks of licking the sweat from the valley between them, of biting the soft flesh. Of your beautiful little gasps.

Would your eyes light up in bed the same way hers do? After all, Viserys and Daemon are brothers. Both of you share some subtle similarities. Rhaenyra wonders if laying you down on her bed might be like having sex with her reflection. A distorted one, perhaps.

You stand in black, while she does it in white.

“We shouldn't.” Your voice breaks the spell. Despite your eyes constantly darting towards her lips, which Rhaenyra cannot help but lick, you seem spooked. She brushes a hand against your cheek, softly. Tilting your head just so to kiss you. “This is wrong.” You say, expression delightfully tortured. No matter your protests, you close your eyes, leaning into her.

She is so close to breaking you.

“You are a Targaryen.” It's the wrong thing to say. You pull away from her touch, frowning.

“And you are about to get married.”

“Aegon the Conqueror had two wives.” Rhaenyra presses. She is willing if it means having you. If your ancestor married sisters, why can't Laenor marry cousins?

“Does Laenor look to you like a man who could handle a wife, much less two?” You smile, showing her your canines in a bitter gesture. “My father seduces whores with that same line. Get your own.”

Joyfully, you go, right into Ser Harwin's arms. You start dancing with him. You don't look as good as you did when dancing with her. Your blush and your little giggles seem to put the man under a trance. Rhaenyra scowls. So much for wanting her. Good gods, were his affections so fickle? Were yours?

Wanting entertainment for the night, she glances at Daemon. Ugh. Dancing with that girl, Laena. Men. Always led by their cocks.

She doesn't want Daemon. She is not sure what she wants, in truth. Does she want you because you are so much like him? Or did she want him because he reminded her of you?

What was first, the dragon or the egg?

Rhaenyra is the one with fickle affections, much to her horror. As she stands in the middle of the dance floor, she feels adrift at the realization she has a type. Targaryens. Rhaenyra likes you, defiant little grins and all. But what really warms her blood is the thought of you and her being similar.

Is that what Daemon felt when looking at her? This deep connection, the urge to grab you and pull you away from Ser Harwin's arms, whose hands are straying lower and lower down your back. And you are letting him. You are letting him touch you, and sure, he is handsome. But you are a Princess, even if not in title. You are hers, as much Daemon is Viserys's.

Rhaenyra knows you want her. How could you not, when you looked at her with those eyes? As your own face crept closer and closer, it was clear Rhaenyra was not the only one who wanted that kiss. You had played along.

Now she is dancing with Laenor, making a pretty show. Your eyes track her every movement, despite being in the arms of your soon-to-be fiancé.

Everything is as it is supposed to be. You grin at Harwin, but Rhaenyra knows it lacks your usual strength. You are not at ease with the man and it shows. Oh, what wouldn't she do to pluck you from his arms and dance with you again.

Perhaps there is a way. Rhaenyra hides her smirk, passing it off as a smile to Laenor. As soon as the dance ends, she rushes to your side.

“Dearest cousin, you must stay with us for some weeks.” She says, interrupting you and Harwin. The man looks vaguely amused, a flicker of interest in his dark eyes. “The wedding has me thinking about our mothers, and how soon such a joyous occasion might come for you too.”

“Hm.” You answer, raising your eyebrows. The mention of your mother is a low thing to do, but it's the truth. Look at you, a maiden ripe for the taking. Marriage alliances, enviable prospects, yet motherless.

“I was thinking, as my marriage progresses, I could hope to be of guidance, just as Queen Alicent has been for me.”

“Guidance?” You ask, frowning. Maybe Rhaenyra had laid it a bit thick. She must redirect, less you spook again.

“There is much to be learned about marriage, of course. And it's my duty as the eldest cousin to prepare you for it.”

Ser Harwin's eyebrows raise. You give her your signature feral little grin. She wonders what those teeth will feel like again on her skin. Hesitantly, you place your arm on hers and allow her to pull you off the dance floor.

If you had yet to know or not the joys of the marital bed was no matter. The excuse was as good as any for getting you to stay. Rhaenyra would have to thank Daemon for that one.

#rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra targeryan #rhaenyra x oc #rhaenyra x you #princess rhaenyra #rhaenyra x fem!reader #rhaenyra targaryen #me noticing a mispelled tag and refusing to fix it #cristi's bingo

410 notes · View notes