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[inkareds]

Eat Your Young

Modern Aemond Targaryen

6/10 - Unreal Unearth Event

nav // event masterlist // hotd m.list (tba) // ko-fi // taglist

✧.* word count: 8.1k (it's really long idk) ✧.* genre: angst, comfort, and smut (it has everything) ✧.* warnings: SMUT so, MDNI!!! Reader is afab but no gendered terms are used, forced to manipulate ppl, Aegon is an asshole (it's warranted lmao), piv sex, sub-ish Aemond, shitty parents

Your parents gave you one task in the gala, make Aegon Targaryen fall in love with you and establish a connection between your family corporation and the Targaryens. But what happens when a certain other Targaryen brother catches your attention instead?

This isn't my first time writing smut but it is my first time writing smut here. I hope Aemond doesn't feel too ooc, I tried to balance out Aemond's own insecurities and worries with the usual Targaryen masking their insecurities with being an asshole vibe.

As always, story and lyric breakdown are at the end

“Just get through the night.” You whispered while smoothing down the creases you’ve made on your clothes. 

After taking a deep breath, you looked at yourself in the mirror. The bathroom was pretty empty, most people being outside socialising and celebrating God knows what. Frankly speaking, you couldn’t care less what event this gala was thrown for, it seemed like every other month some rich socialite was throwing a party or a gala. 

What did matter right now was that the Targaryens were esteemed guests and you have been given a special mission. 

Make Aegon Targaryen fall in love with you. 

The mission seemed easy enough, especially because you felt like you could read Aegon to filth. Classic oldest son in a rich family happens to have one too many burdens as a kid burning them out at a very young age, leading to rebellion and then rejection from the entire family. You could use every manipulative tactic in the book to get the man head over heels for you. 

Pretend you liked him, be there for him, ignore all his bad sides but never affirm them. It should be easy. It was easy. If you didn’t absolutely hate him. 

The moment you walked into the building your parents had given you a clear goal. Solidify a permanent business connection with the Targaryen family, the easiest way to do that is through Aegon Targaryen. But the moment you shared a conversation with him, you felt salt on your tongue. 

Drying your mouth, spinning your head, gagging your throat. It was disgusting. At this point, you didn’t know if your distaste for Aegon was due to him or what he represented. A distasteful mission of manipulation shrouded and hidden atop of family values. 

Do it for the family, they’d tell you over and over again before the gala, and so you must. 

But after all the myriad of conversations you’ve had with the man you needed a break. Taking a step away from the crowd you went over towards the bar for some respite. Bless whoever was hosting the party for the open bar, it’s the only thing that’ll get you through the night at this point. 

It wasn’t like Aegon was bad company, quite the contrary, he was fun, reckless, funny, if not a little bit crass. But you didn’t want to seduce him like a cheap whore. It felt wrong. Especially for someone like him who seemed desperate for a real human connection.

You idly moved the drink the bartender had just placed in front of you around the bartop. Letting your mind swirl around through possibilities of what you could do to run away from the situation your parents had bestowed on you. All coming to nought. You couldn’t find a way to follow your morals without your family’s absolute anger. It frustrated you. 

Though your thoughts were rudely interrupted when a certain tall man sat beside you. In any other case, you wouldn’t have minded, but in this specific case, where the bar was almost devoid of any other person except you and a few other people. The fact that a random man just decides to sit beside you irks you to no end. 

“Tired of entertaining my brother, are you?” He calls your name and you recognize that voice. 

Putting very little effort into concealing the small smile creeping into your features, you turned to look at Aemond. 

“Not quite, I just needed a drink.” You raised your cocktail in response to it. 

Aemond looked unconvinced. 

“What are you doing?” Aemond, as Aemond usually was, cut straight to the chase, 

He had softened his features ever so slightly the moment the two of you made eye contact, but now his expression hardened once more. His brows slightly furrowed as he asked you. 

“What do you mean?” You answered with another question, taking another sip from your drink, as Aemond ordered one for himself. Whisky on the rocks. 

He doesn’t answer for a little bit, letting the tension linger ever so slightly in the air. Perhaps edging you to confess to your sins rather than him calling you out on it. But when you still seldom answer Aemond is forced to reply. 

“Aegon’s a fool but he’s the heir to our father’s company, if he makes a bad decision than it reflects badly on the entire family.” 

You try not to take the implications behind his words to heart. Shrugging instead and looking away back to the wall of bottles behind the barman as he makes his way to make drinks for the other rich patrons. 

“If I remembered correctly, Mrs Rhaenyra was heir.” 

“We both know you wouldn’t be trying to get Aegon’s cock in your mouth if you believed that.” 

You tightened your hold on your drink, now almost empty, his crass words crossing you more than you wanted them to. A bitter chuckle left you through gritted teeth. 

“Would you prefer it be yours instead?” 

Aemond’s eyes focused on you as you smile at him and take your leave. You didn’t want to hear a single thing from the man anymore. Truth be told, you had wished he was the firstborn son, perhaps in that way your goal would be easier to achieve. You have known Aemond for longer than you have Aegon. He took care of the minor business meetings his mother, father, or half-sister couldn’t or wouldn’t be bothered to. Your family’s business meetings fell into that category. 

Which was another strong reason your parents had placed so much hope in you. It was through those meetings you were able to create a sort of relationship with the then-young Targaryen. Neither friendship nor romantic, somewhere along the lines of mutual respect and mutual understanding over the heavy burdens placed on each other’s shoulders. 

His as a result of being the only capable child of his mother and yours as a result of being the only child of your parents. 

All of that went away since he had been promoted after his father’s sickness making him lose the ability to work whatsoever a couple of years prior. Bi-weekly meetings where the two of you would share small conversations before and after meetings became nothing at all. With no clear reason to contact one another, whatever respect had fizzled away. 

That would’ve been the first time you’ve properly met and spoken to him since then. 

Though after that disastrous first conversation, you hoped you could avoid him the rest of the night. Something that worked far too well as Aemond seemed to disappear into the crowd. It did make your conversations with Aegon easier but you couldn’t help but look outwards into the crowd every now and again trying to look for him. 

When the night neared a close, all the guests started filing away and the remaining people were just the close friends of the host, you started to make your way outside. Your parents were waiting near the doorway, smiling proudly at you as you bid your leave from Aegon who grinned. 

There was a sadness behind his playful eyes, not that many seem to notice, you pitied him. Though not enough to forget your anger at being forced to do such a distasteful act. 

“It was a pleasure meeting you,” Aegon waved you off with a light-hearted wink and you gave him a friendly smile in return. 

As you walked towards your parents, heavy in your footsteps and holding your head high despite the shame that runs hot in your veins, someone else stopped you. Aemond was standing next to a pillar you almost walked by, if not for him calling out your name. 

“I believe you owe me a proper catch-up, it has been a while since we met and I would regret leaving with a bad experience.” 

You glanced at him and then back at your parents. Your mother’s brows were furrowed lightly in confusion whilst your father leaned towards her ear to whisper something. A choice was now presented in front of you. 

Decline Aemond’s offer and go back to your family home with a bitter taste in your mouth and simple daydreams of what could’ve happened if you stayed. Or accept Aemond’s offer and not only risk angering your parents but also risk an awkward altercation with Aemond, no doubt solidifying your family name in the Targaryen business’ eyes. Which would also lead to your parents being infuriated. 

But when you looked back at Aemond, long white hair neat as it flowed down his suit, you couldn’t help but feel selfish. Your parents should understand, that a whole night of schmoozing against Aegon should allow you some kind of prize, this will be it. 

“Of course,” Aemond pushed himself off the pillar and walked beside you, offering his arm as he pulled you away from the crowd of leaving guests. 

The two of you walked in silence for a little bit before you realised where you were going. Dazed at the decision you just made, you didn’t realise where he was leading you. When you did come back to reality, you found yourself at the back of the gala venue, a motorbike in front of you. 

“I didn’t realise your version of catching up is kidnapping me, Mr. Targaryen.” 

He handed you a spare helmet which you took, grinning ear to ear. Of course, you’ve heard the rumours, Aemond Targaryen, the man that should be the second pick to be the next owner of Targaryen Corp, not Aegon. After all, Aemond was the more responsible one, he was more patient, and though he wasn’t more charismatic than Aegon, was much less prone to finding a photo of himself on the front pages of gossip tabloids. But rumour has it that Aemond Targaryen had an edge to him. An edge that made him not as approachable as his siblings or half-siblings were. 

To be quite honest, you were curious about what this edge was when you worked with him. When you didn’t see it at the entirety of your ‘friendship’ you assumed it was simply a rumour. But now, you wondered if you’d experience it firsthand. 

“We’re not professionally involved with one another anymore, Aemond will do,” he says as he steadies his bike, beckoning you to come to his side. “And don’t worry, I’m only taking us to a more quiet space to talk.” 

Aemond looked at you with a small sense of sincerity in his eyes, at that moment you knew if you refused it, he’d be willing to talk. You knew that was the safer option, the option that your parents had instilled in you the moment you graduated. But the other part of you, the long lost teenage part of you who longs for the reckless nights and dramatic mistakes your friends back in high school seem to partake in that you never did due to all the responsibilities you carried, wanted to see where the night will go if you said yes. 

You smiled and put on your helmet before climbing to the back of his motorcycle. Aemond himself grinned before he put on his helmet. With a single tap to your thigh, Aemond starts off the bike. In a single moment, you were cruising through the dark streets of King’s Landing. 

The colourful city lights decorated the sky as you whizzed through traffic. It was late enough that all Aemond had to do was manoeuvre slightly to keep the pace constant. You couldn’t help but relax your hold on him from behind. Your hands splayed out on his abdomen, coincidentally slightly feeling his well-muscled body from under his black suit. 

You grinned to yourself, feeling butterflies erupt in your stomach at the thought of what you were doing. When you tightened your hold, feigning fear, you pretended not to notice how Aemond's grip tighten. 

Aemond slowed down when you left the city, the lights slowly got dimmer and much further apart from one another. Until you finally stopped outside a large home. The estate itself was slightly smaller than the house you grew up in, granted you grew up well off, but the house itself wasn’t as imposing as you thought Aemond’s house would be. 

As Aemond parked his bike inside the garage, he offered you a hand to help you get off. He didn’t let your hand go as he led you into the house. 

“Is there a reason why your parents seem to stick by my mother’s side the entire night or were they simply trying to make sure she wasn’t lonely?” he asked with a chuckle. 

“Here I thought you were a smart man, Aemond,” you saw the way his throat bobbed when you said his name, “I assume you’d have figured it out already.” 

“Ah, of course,” he shook his head slightly as the two of you made it to his kitchen. His whole house was beautifully decorated, marble everywhere, coloured accents where it made sense. You had assumed there’d be more splashes of red here and there, considering the Targaryen head office was filled with it, but instead, a dark emerald and a deep forest green were scattered throughout the space. 

It complimented the place well. 

“The same reason you’ve been hounding my brother it seems.” You rolled your eyes as he opened a cupboard to take out a bottle. “A drink?” 

“It would be rude of me to refuse.” You answered, smiling as he poured both him and you a drink. 

“Now, care to explain?” He asks after you take a sip. 

“I know you think there is an ulterior motive for me, but have you ever considered that I just wanted to befriend Aegon?” You teased. 

He turned towards you, keeping his eyes on your own. 

“Aegon’s good company, but you don’t seem like the person who’d flaunt yourself like that.” 

“Really?” you asked as Aemond drew near, “What kind of person am I then, Aemond Targaryen?” 

“You,” he whispers, his voice low and his breath brushing against your lips. “You are someone brilliant, headstrong, responsible, but far far too loyal.” 

“Is that so?” he hummed in response, “Are you sure?” Your eyes travelled to his lips as you both placed your glasses on the counter you were currently leaning on. 

Aemond’s body trapped you between him and the counter. Though trapped wasn’t the word you’d use to describe how you were feeling. 

“I’m pretty sure. I pay very close attention.” 

“You pay close attention to all the people you used to work with?” 

His hand places itself on your cheek, his thumb reaching towards your bottom lip. 

“Only the ones I care enough for.” 

Then he closes the distance between you. His lips against yours, you feel the softness he tried to convey, in a way he was giving you an out. Allowing you to reject his advances and he’d pull away. But you didn’t want to. For the first time in the entire night, you felt your mouth feel with sweetness instead of cotton and salt. 

So you pursued him, you leaned forward to kiss him back, bringing both your arms around the back of his neck as you arched towards him. Aemond responds in tandem, both his arms snaking his way to your lower back. 

He pulls you closer to him as the kiss intensifies. You feel yourself filling with fire, wanting to be impossibly close to the man in front of you. An eruption of emotions you tried to hide behind an edge of professionalism all those years ago when you worked with Aemond finally bubbled up in your chest. 

As a result, Aemond responded, he groaned into your mouth as he pulled away, only to leave open-mouth kisses on your jaw. Exploring down onto your neck as you looked up to give him better access. Your collarbones were next and you felt your nerves light like a match being lit on fire and thrown into gasoline. 

You writhed in his touch as you felt his teeth graze against your skin. To try and help him you pushed parts of his hair aside so it wouldn’t bother him. He muttered a small thanks before continuing his assault on your skin. 

“I wish I could’ve asked you out properly before our last meeting.” he murmured into your skin. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted this.”

At the mention of your work, your lust-induced haze cleared. The thought of your parents reached your mind as you realised this has gone further than you intended. Instead of the butterfly of emotions and affection that rose in your stomach, bile began bubbling. You felt yourself stiffen as you tried to think of a way to get Aemond to stop. 

Aemond, not truly realising the war that raged in your mind, let his hands wander to your thigh, pushing against your clothes, wanting to feel your skin. When his other hand seem to start its ascend towards your chest you placed both your hands on his chest and pushed him. 

Immediately Aemond pulled back. You refused to look at him as you started to stammer out incoherent words. 

“I shouldn’t- we shouldn’t- this has gone too far. I- I’m-”

You failed to see the disappointment and hurt cross Aemond’s eyes as he watched you writhe and stammer, clearly uncomfortable at the position he had placed both of you in. But he quickly steeled himself, pulling away properly now. Taking a few steps back and looking to the side. 

Anywhere but you, with your swollen lips glistening with spit, and ruffled clothes from his hands. 

“Apologies then, I- I’ll send a driver to bring you home.” Just like that Aemond turned his heel and walked away deeper into his home. 

You turned to face him just in time to see a scowl form on his face, but you couldn’t call out to him like you wanted to. So, biting the inside of your cheek, you grabbed your bag and pulled out a mirror. Meticulously making sure you were presentable before making your way out of his home. 

In the driveway, you dared yourself to look back. You didn’t know what you were looking for, maybe Aemond to call you back inside, and finish what both of you started. But none of that happened. 

With a sigh and a heavy heart, you trudged your way to the car Aemond sent for you. 

~

The next few weeks went by with a blur. After exchanging numbers with Aegon in the party the two of you had spoken here and there. Surprisingly enough, you had slowly been accustomed to him. At times you viewed him as a friend. 

However, those times were quickly crushed during every family dinner when your parents would ask about Aegon and talk about the Targaryen corporation. 

When you weren’t talking to Aegon, you were dealing with your family business. Your parents were getting older so you’ve been taking on more and more responsibilities. Fortunately, under your lead, your family company has been growing steadily.

“Our sales went up significantly this month,” you spoke as you cut into a piece of asparagus on the plate, “The data analyst report said it was because of the ad rebrand. The simple but eye-catching colours seem to resonate with my generation.” 

Your dad hummed in agreement, “See, I told you our child would be fine taking over after us.” He signalled to your mother. 

“I never doubted you for a second,” She spoke with a smile, before stiffening once again, “But I must say, it isn’t the same growth that we saw when we worked together with the Velaryons or Targaryens.” 

“Well, that’s a given, they’re support would allow us to bridge continents,” your father continued. 

“Indeed, if we are able to secure your connection with Aegon then the company and our name will be set for life.” You bit your tongue to stop any kind of retort coming out, “After all, how hard can it be? You can tell the poor boy’s practically begging for attention.” Your mother and father laughed.

Leaving you to chew on your food in silence. You couldn’t blame them for being such social and economic climbers. You’ve learnt from a young age that if your parents hadn’t done some of the morally ambiguous things that they’ve done, there was no way they could be as successful as they are now. You had to take the plunge. 

You excused yourself early from dinner, making up an excuse on how you had plans with Aegon. Truth be told, you didn’t have plans with him, but you hoped his schedule’s clear enough to entertain your presence. 

Surprisingly, after a short call, he told you to meet up with him at a jazz bar not so far from where both of you lived. Quickly dressed up, your driver dropped you off at the luxurious establishment. 

When you entered you made your way directly to the bar, forgoing the small tables and such. Aegon had already been there, his back facing you. You swallowed hard and forced a flirtatious smile to grace you. 

Walking up towards him, your hands reached out to caress his back as you leaned forward. 

“Hi stranger,” you teased. 

In response, Aegon gave you a lopsided grin and gestured for you to sit on the stool beside him. 

You ordered yourself a dry martini and took your seat. 

“Why the sudden call?” He asked, an eyebrow raised. 

“What?” you rolled your eyes, “Can’t I just miss you? It’s been a while since we saw each other. How are you?” 

He let out a loud chuckle and leaned forward towards you. 

“Oh baby, let’s not pretend we both don’t know what you want.” 

Aegon grinned and looked at you up and down. For some reason, you felt your stomach drop. This is what you want, right? I mean, if you sleep with Aegon tonight, then you could definitely hook him to you. Establish a connection between the Targaryens and your family and then your job was done. But it felt wrong. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mr. Targaryen.” Your voice was low and sultry, as you egged him on. Though the voice in your head told you to stop. 

You can’t shake the thought of Aemond from your mind. The way Aegon was looking at you reminded you of that night. How different would things be if you never pushed him away? 

“Oh really?” Aegon continued standing up from his seat and taking a step towards you, his face mere inches from you. 

“Mhm” you hummed as you looked up at him through your eyelashes, ignoring the pangs in your heart screaming that this was wrong. 

Aegon bit the bottom of his lip. 

“Yeah, I didn’t want to believe him, but here’s the proof laid out in front of me.” Aegon suddenly pulled away and chuckled dryly, leaving you confused. “You can tell your bitch of a mom and bastard of a dad that sending their kid dolled up like a noble won’t make me fall head over heels.” 

He waved you off and took a seat back on his chair, looking forward at the bar and not at all to you. 

“What do you mean?” Your eyebrows furrowed as you processed what he was saying. 

“Aemond told me sweetheart.” He turned to you, the lopsided grin and playful glint disappearing from his expression, “Told me about your little parents’ plans to connect us or some shit like that. You don’t have to keep following them you know? You’re not a bitch on a leash.” 

At that you gritted your teeth, Aegon had every right to be bitter at you. But to be this crass was uncalled for. 

“Why do you look so angry? I’m the one who should be angry. You’re over here flirting and practically opening your legs to seduce me like the devil.” He let out a humourless chuckle as your face flared in embarrassment. “Don’t worry sweetheart, I’m not going to take it to heart. You’re not the only social climbing degenerate who tried to get with me just for a key to the company. Especially after my half-sister got married.” 

Degenerate

How fucking dare he? All things considered, he should look in the mirror. 

“Forgive me then,” You gritted your teeth and turned your heel to walk away, embarrassed and furious. 

Until Aegon called your name. 

“What I said stands by the way. You don’t have to listen to them, I mean, Aemond seem to care about you enough to warn me. Something about not letting you fuck over your entire life just because you needed to fuck me.” Aegon light-heartedly chuckles. “Just give it a thought, baby.” 

The pet name sounded more sarcastic than anything as you walked away without turning around. 

You should’ve known Aemond would’ve done something to sabotage you after you refused him that night. Bastard. What would you tell your parents now?!

That night you spent an hour in a random ice cream shop before calling your driver to pick you up. You needed to pretend like you had spent all that time with Aegon when in reality you were spending your time with several cups of your favourite ice cream flavour. Your only companion is the underpaid college student who had the unfortunate late night shift. 

~

After that, you avoided your parents like the plague. Thankfully after your father asked you to take up some of his responsibilities, something about grooming you to take over for him in a few weeks when he retires. Your new office was closer to your home than it was to your family home. So you had moved in back to your apartment penthouse. 

The weeks droned on like thick molasses, slow and tedious. You couldn’t relax anywhere you went outside your apartment, because every time you were at work you were risking your parents’ suddenly asking you about Aegon or the Targaryens or anything like that. 

Somehow it’s begun spreading across the office that you have been getting closer to the Targaryen family one way or another. It was good news for everyone working there because that could mean they’d be getting a pay raise if a collaboration happened. You didn’t know who spread the rumours but you had a feeling it was your father, his own way of putting pressure on you to finish the deal. 

These rumours were what made it both surprising and unsurprising when Aemond Targaryen suddenly arrived in your office. 

You had been busy with work calls the entire day, and when you were finished you had very little energy left and weren’t as perceptive to the things that were happening around you. All you knew was that it was around the time when everyone except the overtime labourers would go home. You should also go home but there was some work still left to be done. 

Readying yourself to take on the mountain of paperwork you still needed to do, a knock on your door broke your attention. 

“Come in.”

Your secretary popped her head in and looked positively frazzled. 

“Sorry boss, there’s someone here to see you.” 

You made a confused expression until the door was pushed open a bit more and you could see the hints of long white hair waiting on the front of your secretary’s desk not far from your door. 

“I see.”

“I told Mr. Targaryen that you’d be busy, but he promised it wouldn’t take a long time.” 

“It’s alright, send him in.”

She nodded as she stepped back and brought Aemond to your office. As the door opened further, you could see some of your co-workers looking at Aemond. Likely curious if he was the connection the rumours had been talking about. 

You sighed as he stepped in and your secretary closed the door. 

“Why are you here?” You refused to even look at him and instead picked up a piece of paperwork and a pen. 

“Usually when guests arrive at my office I offer them a seat first before questioning them. But I understand you’re still training to take over your father.”

Though his sarcasm would’ve brought a smile to your face any other day. Today it only irked you. 

“Oh, apologies Mr Targaryen, I wasn’t aware you were a guest. I had mistaken you for an intruder. Please, do sit.” 

You sarcastically motioned to the seat in front of you. Before rolling your eyes and once again turning your attention towards the contract in front of you. You started trying to read through it as Aemond sat in front of you. Trying your best not to focus on the way his black dress shirt moulded his well-toned body. The same body you were almost acquainted with. 

“How about we put the paper down darling, we both know you won’t be getting any work done with me here.” 

At his smug voice, you practically scowled. You couldn’t take him anymore. You couldn’t take any of the Targaryens anymore. With their pretty face and smug bastardly attitude. They act as if they’re above everyone else and maybe if people like them didn’t exist, people like your parents wouldn’t be so desperate to climb and compete to act as smug and pompous as them. 

You placed down your pen and paper and spoke through gritted teeth. 

“You have yet to answer my question, what the fuck do you want Aemond?” 

You dared to glare at him, trying not to cower at his piercing lavender eyes. For a second, you think you saw him soften at the eye contact, though it was gone before you could verify that thought. 

“I wanted to talk to you personally.” 

“About what?” 

“About a potential collaboration.” 

At those words, your eyes widened. 

“But if I remember correctly, only your father’s office is soundproof, this isn’t. And I’d like privacy to talk about this.” 

“What game are you playing, Aemond?” Your eyes squinted at him trying to gauge his reaction. 

“Nothing, this is strictly business.” He motioned towards the messenger bag he was carrying. “I’d like these following documents and contracts with the heir to this company, but if you decline, I could always go to the head.” 

“I’ll be the head in a couple of days, you can discuss it with me.” You cut him off. However, you quickly realised you took the bait. 

“Very well, lead the way to a more private location then.”

A long silence swept across the two of you as you waited for each other to break. When it became clear Aemond wouldn’t, you stood up. 

“Fine.” That was the only thing you said before you stood up and quickly packed up your things to leave. 

Aemond followed suit as you walked out of the office building. Thankfully enough, a good chunk of people had already left. However, there were still a few who saw their boss walk into the car with Aemond Targaryen. 

Your ride to your apartment was silent. Your head rushing through your options and wondering if what you were doing was the right thing to do. You couldn’t regret your choices though because before you knew it you were inside your penthouse, with Aemond fucking Targaryen. 

You bit the inside of your cheek and decided to try and be casual, though you knew Aemond could feel your stiff nerves. 

“Can I offer you a drink?” A sense of Deja Vu washed over you at that moment. 

But you were confident tonight would end differently, you wouldn’t be tempted by Aemond Targaryen again. 

“I’d rather keep my head clear for our discussion.” he answered. 

You couldn’t help but admire the way he looked in your home as if he belonged there this entire time. 

You nodded and motioned towards the couches in the middle of the living room. The two of you took a seat beside one another as Aemond took out his papers. 

“As I’ve said before, I believe both mine and your corporation could benefit from a collaboration.” he handed you a few papers as he began explaining, “A data analyst from my team had informed me of your growth over the few months since your takeover to a leadership position.” Your eyes read through the words, these were proper documents, entailing a collaboration and what that would mean on both sides. 

“I’m under the believe that once you take over, that growth will only increase at an exponential rate. In which case, you’d be the most recent trend. I’d like to offer an early collaboration.” 

“So that you could get ahead of other companies that may want to work together with mine when we reach that moment of growth.” 

“Precisely.” 

You looked through some of the other documents in silence before putting them down and looking towards Aemond. There was the smallest hint of uncertainty in his eyes. 

“What makes you think this trend of growth will grow when I take over? And if I remember correctly, it’s Rhaenyra Targaryen who has a say in big decisions such as this. How can I be sure you’ll fulfil your end of the deal if I agree to this?”

You stared at him, placing both your hands on top of your lap. 

“To answer both of your questions, my family has put trust in me and my judgement in character. And I believe you to be someone strong and smart enough to fix the problems your father had when he took over the company.” 

He spoke with a confidence that irked you. But there was something else in there that you were now noticing. An uncertainty, a sense of anxiety, a small hint of hopefulness. You wanted to laugh. He was the source of your embarrassment when you were speaking to Aegon and yet here he was asking you for a collaboration project. 

“And why should I trust you? Last we spoke you had practically caused Aegon to embarrass me in public.” 

You saw Aemond tighten his jaw slightly. A sense of pride bloomed inside of you at the ability to make Aemond motherfucking Targaryen nervous. 

“Well, unlike your plan with Aegon, this would be beneficial to both of us. So I apologise for looking after my brother’s wellbeing.” 

You quirked your eyebrows at his pathetic answer. 

“So that’s it huh? The reason for this collaboration is because it’ll be beneficial to both of us?” 

“Of course.” 

You leaned closer towards him. 

“I don’t buy it. Aemond Targaryen, you are a brilliant man. You would know that a collaboration with me at this moment would benefit me much more than it would benefit you. So, I’ll ask again, is that your only reason?” 

You see the way Adam’s apple bobbed against his neck as you brought yourself closer towards him. 

“What? Cat got your tongue?” You grinned at seeing the way he was reacting. 

Maybe you were wrong. Maybe Aemond didn’t actually have an edge. Maybe the people who worked with him and said he did have an edge just didn’t have the bravery to push him. You’d be the first. 

“You know what I think Aemond?” You brought your body closer, till your legs are practically draped over his. “I think you’re doing this just as an excuse to see me.” 

Your lips ghost against his as his breathing deepened. 

“Because no matter how smart or brilliant you are, at the end of the day you’re just a coward who doesn’t have enough bravery to be man enough to talk to me normally.” 

At that, Aemond closed the distance between you. Smashing his lips against yours as he quickly brought his hands towards your back and pushed you against his body. In return your hands made their way towards his hair. 

Weeks and weeks of turmoil and mixed emotions filled the passionate kiss the two of you shared as you moaned into the way his tongue slipped past your lips. 

“I’ll show you bravery.” He pulled away breathlessly, a string of saliva connecting the two of you. 

“I don’t believe you.” You bit back with a grin. 

In response to your words, Aemond pushed you back to the couch so that he was now on top. You held onto the back of his neck as his lips made their way to your neck and collarbones, pushing against your blouse, as one of his hands was placed beside your head and the other worked to open the buttons of his shirt. 

When he got all of them he pulled away, leaving you to groan at the disappearance of his soft lips. Aemond only grinned as he sat straight to take off his shirt and throw it away somewhere with the pile of papers. 

Your hands immediately reached forwards to his body. You had already felt the outlines of his muscles on the motorcycle ride to his place the last time something like this happened. But this time, you were seeing and touching him without a single barrier between. 

You let your hands wander against the expanse of his chest and abdomen. Aemond felt himself swell with pride at the way you were looking at him with such admiration and lust. When your nails dragged against his nipples, he had to throw his head back to stop a groan from erupting from himself. 

Seeing this you grinned to yourself. 

You reached up at him and pulled him back to your level, your lips meeting one another once more. 

“Take my shirt off.” You whispered towards him. 

Aemond only nodded as your lips connected again, whilst his hands made quick work of your blouse. Your hands pulled away from him just to take off the sleeves of your blouse before his hands crept underneath your back to unclasp your bra.

You let him pull the undergarment away from you and let him watch your chest free of the confines of your bra just as you did to him. Unlike you though, he didn’t waste any more time. Like a starving man who dreamt of his meal for years, he was quick to smother your chest in kisses. 

You threw your head back and moaned loudly when his lips made their way to one of your nipples whilst the other one had the attention of his hand. 

“Yes~ Oh, Aemond!” You moaned as you reached to hold onto his hair and the couch. 

The feeling of his silky white hair pooling against your skin as he sucked and nibbled your nipples was heavenly. 

Now and again Aemond would let himself slow down and look at you. Only to come back to pleasuring you with fervour at seeing your expression of lust and bliss. Completely ignoring the way his pants started to get tighter and tighter. 

He’s been wanting to do this for the longest time and though he didn’t plan to do this now, wanting to wait until you were the head of your company and free from the chains of your parents. He could never refuse you. All he wanted to do was make you feel good. 

But the moment you lifted your hips and ground against his clothed dick, he had to bite into your skin to muffle out a pathetic moan. 

“Aw, don’t be like that,” you breathlessly spoke, sounding like an angel in his ears, “Don’t muffle yourself. I want to hear you feel as good as me.” You ground yourself against him again. 

This time, Aemond let himself moan against your skin. His embarrassment caused him to bury his head against the crook of your neck and litter it with kisses. 

“Who would’ve thought Aemond Targaryen was so shy when it came to fucking.” You teased as you tried to take off your pants. 

Aemond feeling you squirm under him understood immediately, he pulled away from you to give you room to take your pants off. All the while he worked at his belt and pants as well. With only his boxers on, you could see the way it strained to keep his hard dick in place. 

Your mouth watered at the thought of him inside of you. Unbeknownst to you, Aemond was frozen looking at you bare. You had taken off your underwear along with your pants. He couldn’t bring himself to do anything as he stared at your slick core, dripping with need. Need for him. 

Seeing his hesitancy, you decided to take the lead. Using your elbows as support you pushed yourself up and lightly led Aemond to sit comfortably against the couch whilst you climbed above him. Aemond let out the loudest and most beautiful moan when he felt you rub your wet cunt against his clothed dick. 

“Come on, let me see all of you.” You whispered in his ear as you tugged at the waistband of his boxers. 

“Anything you want.” Aemond whispered against your skin as he shuffles to take off his boxers whilst leaving feather-light kisses against your shoulders and any piece of skin he could reach. 

Your eyes practically widened when you saw him. All bare and vulnerable in front of you. You wondered for a second what your parents would think of you. But before your mind could wander any furhter. Aemond brought his hand to your chin and made you look up at him. 

“Stop thinking, enjoy this with me.” 

His words brought back the confidence you almost lost at the thought of your dissappointed parents. So you reached towards the coffee table where you had placed your bag for your wallet. You quickly took out the condom inside and placed it on Aemond, before teasing him even more. 

He groaned at the feeling of you rubbing against him, his hands instinctively held your hips to still your movements. 

“After all these months, you still want to tease me?” 

You giggled, kissing the corner of his lips, “Maybe.” You spoke before slowly sinking into him. 

The two of you groaned in tandem when his tip went inside, the intrusion was slightly painful at first but as you went slowly the feeling of pain only blossomed into unadulterated pleasure. 

Aemond moaned your name when you bottomed out, placing his head on the crook of your neck as his arms embraced your waist. Your chest pressed against his and your bodies connected together. You don’t know if you’ve ever felt this much emotion for someone. 

“Gods, Aemond.” you whispered as you slowly started to move. 

He groaned in response as his fingers dug deeper into your skin. 

“Aemond fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” You muttered over and over agains as you started to bounce on his dick. 

In response, he helped you by moving your hips and fucking you from underneath. His hips slamed against your own as he moaned your name over and over again. 

“Fuck, you’re so amazing, fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!” Between every word he’d sneak a kiss onto any place he could, just something to ground him. 

All the while you held tight on the sofa behind him. 

“I love you. Fuck, I fucking love you.” You felt him mutter against your skin, it caused you to clench against him, leading to an exceptionally loud moan from the man. 

The thought of loving him struck you at that moment. Did you love him? Maybe? How long has he felt this for you?  

One of his hands snuck their way into between your bodies and long fingers started toying with your clit, causing your legs to close around him even more. 

You felt his thrusts get more and more messy and you could feel your own stomach twisting in a familiar feeling. 

“Shit- Aemond- I’m gonna-”

“Yeah- yeah- me too, me too.” 

You bit into the side of his neck as the band in your stomach snapped causing you to cum all over his dick. At the same time, Aemond groaned and thrusted one final time into you, before shooting ropes of cum into the condom. 

The two of  you stayed like that for a while. With him still being inside of you and you with your head in the crook of his neck. Breathing in and out trying to calm both your hearts. 

You were first to pull away, with shaky legs you pulled yourself away from him and laid on the couch. Your legs on top of his thighs as he affectionately rubbed your ankles. 

“I’m going to get us some water.” he spoke softly, leaning down to kiss your forehead before standing up and making his way to the kitchen. 

When he came back, he had already discarded the condom and put on his boxers. 

Handing you the glass of water, you sat up to retrieve it and silence soon followed. 

Aemond was the one who tried to break it. 

“I’ll call my driver while you shower. We can forget what happened and what I said if you want.” You looked at him at that moment, he looked, honest. 

You remembered that look in Aegon’s eyes that time in the jazz bar. Something about the Targaryens and their perfect masks which seem to drop and show just how fragile they truly were. 

Maybe the Targaryens weren’t such assholes anyways. 

“No,” you reached out towards him, your hand against his the scarred side of his face, “Stay. I don’t want to forget what happened.” You leaned to press a soft kiss against his lips. 

In return his hand held onto the yours that was on his cheek. He held it there in place even as you pulled away. Rubbing his thumb against your knuckles. 

“You know, once you become the head, there’s no way your parents can control you. Which means you’re free to do whatever you want.” He chuckles and leans to press a small kiss on the palm of your hand. 

“You’re right.” You whispered, “Then!” You quickly stood up, holding his hand in yours, “As my first decision at doing whatever I want, I want you, Aemond Targaryen, to take a shower with me and spend the night here.” 

You grinned ear to ear as Aemond stood up. 

“I’d love nothing more.” 

Just before the two of you made your way to the shower, Aemond spoke again, “You know Aegon doesn’t hate you or blame you. He knows what it’s like for your parents to push you to do something you don’t want to.” 

Your brows furrowed at the thought of Aegon, you’d have to properly apologise to him later on. But on the meantime, you didn’t want to sour the mood. 

“Damn, the famed Targaryen family has family drama? That’s surprising.” 

“You don’t know the half of it.”

Eat Your Young is a song about the exploitation of the younger generation by a group of rich people that do not care at the fuck all. Though the song talks about stronger messages like the world of arms-dealing I want to write more about exploitation following the reader who is the first child of a very rich family who is trying to climb the ladder even more.

[inkareds]

I, Carrion - Hozier Daemon Targaryen 5/10 - Unreal Unearth Event

nav // event masterlist // hotd m.list (tba) // ko-fi

✧.* word count: 8.8k (long boy) ✧.* genre: angst -> comfort // sfw (but adult themes) ✧.* warnings: slow burn-ish, the reader is female, Otto and Alicent are minor villains, details of sickness (Daemon not reader lmao)

"Leave it now, I am sky-bound // If you need to, darling, lean your weight to me // We'll float away, but if we fall // I only pray, don't fall away from me"

Being the last member of a noble house was difficult, and the fact that you were a woman made it even more difficult. Surprisingly, you've found comfort in the Rogue Prince, and even more surprising when he finds comfort in you. A comfort built on mutual affection and respect, something a certain someone in court feels threatened by

Parts of this story were inspired by The Crucible, you'll know what I mean after you've read the story. Also hiiiii, I'm so happy to be back from my LONG hiatus, I'm feeling a lot better and hopefully will get into the writing groove back!

As always, lyric and story breakdown at the end of the story

Your mother died on the birthing bed, she had fought valiantly, screaming, crying, and clawing at the sheets trying to push you, her firstborn, out. 

When you echoed your first cries, your father came into the room, he held your mother’s hand and wept, the last thing she spoke was a plea to your father to love their daughter and to give it a name she chose. 

Your father honoured this last wish of your mother as she died. 

He raised you with nothing but a doting sort of love but he knew his time was limited. 

The Gods had not been kind to him or your mother, you were their first child in over ten years of marriage and in your birth, you had taken your mother. Because of this, your father found no more reason to remarry. His heart belonged wholly to your mother, he gave everything to her and in return to you, the last thing he has of her. 

Though that meant the extinction of his house once you marry or pass on, he doesn’t seem to mind it. He did fear for you, now ten and eight years of age. 

He feared for what would become of you once he dies, with no more kin to lean on and coming from a house that wasn’t as powerful as most others in your region, he wishes for you to live in content. 

So one day when a raven is sent out to many noble houses in search of a lady-in-waiting for the young Princess Rhaenyra, your father jumped at the opportunity. You were close of age to her and her other lady-in-waiting lady Alicent Hightower, though you were slightly older. He found this to be the perfect opportunity. 

After consolidating with you, he sends you off to King’s Landing with the hopes of interesting the princess enough that you’d become her lady-in-waiting. Much to his joy the princess was taken by you. 

You were straightforward and spoke rather brazenly compared to the other prim and proper ladies. Something Rhaenyra loved.  You quickly wrote to your father about how she told you that you amused her greatly and that she admires your sharp words and quick wit. 

After being chosen as a lady-in-waiting for Princess Rhaenyra, you came home only to retrieve your belongings before moving to live in King’s Landing. Your father had wept in private with you before you left, you were the last thing he had of your mother and though you did not know her, he says that you were quite similar to her. In that way, he felt if he could give you a content life, he’d be giving an extension of her another content life. 

“Promise me you’ll survive there, surrounded by dragons, you have to be strong, my beautiful daughter.” He weeps as he pulls you closer to him. 

Your father was old, older than what most men were when they had their firstborn, and so you knew he didn’t have long left. With what little time the Gods give him, you want to make him proud and happy. 

“I will father, I will keep both you and mother in my heart.” Your father pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

“Then promise me you’ll survive no matter what, you’ll live and you shall thrive.” He looks at you with determination shining in his eyes. 

“I swear to you, I will not let those courtly dragons drag me down.” 

With that, you left your home for King’s Landing. 

It wasn’t much different, you weren’t from rigid lands like Dorne or Winterfell, so the weather didn’t bother you much. What did bother you was the social customs that you were expected to adhere to.

 Back home, your house was small but highly respected by the common folk around you as well as the other noble houses around you. Seeing as how in, what most assume, a couple of years you will be the last of your house, the noblemen and women of your lands gave you much more freedom than most women. 

You didn’t butter your words and spoke with an ardent fever when the topic would land on one of the many you were well-educated in. That was another thing you found ridiculous, the only women that were highly educated seemed to be the highest nobles. And those were Lady Alicent and the Princess herself. Those two were the only ones you found you could talk to. 

Whilst the men, as knowledgeable as they were, were rude and distasteful. You had found no comfort in court and found it difficult to hide your sneer any time anyone second-guessed Rhaenyra’s position as a princess and her father’s firstborn. 

The two of you shared a bond unlike any other, you were your father’s firstborn, just as she is. But unlike her, you hold none of the pressures she has from everyone around her to rise above her station while sitting prim and proper as the perfect lady. So she blossoms whenever she speaks to you, in you she sees a different side of the coin she resided in. 

And when her uncle comes to visit, let’s just say, her interest in you grows exponentially. 

“Prince Daemon, it is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance once more.” You curtsied at him when he caught you walking through the garden. 

The roguish prince grinned. 

“Might I ask why my niece’s attendant is roaming around without my niece at sight?” He nears you. 

“Princess Rhaenyra is studying with her Septa, my prince, during her lessons I am not with her.” You explained to him. 

After a few years of attending to Rhaenyra, you have met Daemon repeatedly. You would be lying if you said you didn’t find the prince quite charming, in a sly way. What little conversations you’ve had with him, he’d found humour and entertained your sharp tongue. Not to mention he actually speaks to you when topics of your knowledge come into the conversation. Unlike many of the men here who then go on a tirade about the topic, boasting about their knowledge, completely ignoring any of your statements. 

“May I ask what troubles you?” You ask when you see him observing you. 

"Do you think Rhaenyra is suited for the throne?" 

The sudden serious question caught you off guard. Though you tried to answer as honestly as possible, knowing the Prince would find it more favourable. 

"Of course, I do, she is the king's firstborn, knowledgeable, headstrong, and stubborn. This realm needs a strong leader, not one easily swayed by their court,” you paused, deciding to poke the bear, or in this case, the dragon, “I hope I could trust you not to misconstrued my words and twist them in court, my Prince.” You grinned. 

Daemon chuckled, letting his head fall back ever so slightly as he took a step towards you. 

“Now why would I do that?” 

Your eyes focused on him, “Perhaps to take all of the Princess’ attention? I do see the way you look at her, my Prince. I may not be well-accustomed to the queer traditions of the old Valyrians, but I am not blind. Perhaps you are jealous she’s spending her time with me and wishes to rid of me.” 

Standing in the deserted gardens nestled deep in the Keep, Daemon takes another step closer to you, pressuring you to take a step backwards. Yet you stand your ground, unwilling to let the invisible strings of tension pull you back as he pushes you forward with his noble visage. 

“You are one of the last interesting people in this keep. Dare I say, with a tongue like that and a mind like yours, if you were born a man you’d have been seated somewhere in my brother’s court. But alas, you were born to be the last of your house.” 

At the slight snide comment of your house, all but little of your playfulness dissipated. Of course, you understood the dire situation of your house, but you would be a fool to let its name be tarnished and insulted. 

“Alas, unfortunately so, if that is all you wish to say to me, then I shall take my leave,” you tilted your head upwards before lightly bowing and turning to leave. 

Daemon sighed with a tired smile before reaching out to grab your arm. 

“Are all southerners brass and easily emotional?” He remarks, causing a humourless and graceless fake smile to fill your expression. 

“If I am as emotional as you say I am I wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to roll my eyes at your words. Yet, here I am, still smiling, it seems I’m less emotional than you think I am, Prince Daemon.” You spoke the last words through gritted teeth, clearly showing your sarcasm. 

“As much as I do enjoy our banter, I did come here to talk business, though it seems you had distracted me.” At his statement, your brows furrowed and finally, you turned towards him. Seeing as you don’t seem to walk away, Daemon lets go of your arm. “There are snakes aiming to bite at your ankles, little hound. Keep a watchful eye.” 

Little hound, the nickname that used to make your blood boil as a child. Your house sigil consisted of the body of a bloodhound, standing regal with its head held up high and one paw in the air. It perfectly encapsulated your house’s longstanding history as a loyal and trustworthy house with a mind unlike any other. Your father gave you the nickname when you were younger as you would play with the pups and dogs near the farms. 

Later on, the nickname would catch on through the common folk. Little hound they called you. When Daemon first spoke of it, he spoke as if it was an insult. The little hound, the last of the bloodhounds of your house. 

But now it sounded different. 

“I would watch your back much closer,” he leaned closer to almost whisper to your ear, sending chills down your spine. “I’d hate for my favourite source of entertainment to disappear.” 

As quickly as he got serious, the boyish bravado and ease came back, Daemon pulled away, taking a step backwards to create some space between the two of you. Right before you open your mouth to inquire him about the statement, another voice joins you. 

“There you are, I had been looking everywhere for you.” 

You quickly looked back at the sound of the Princess’s voice. The young Rhaenyra stood there with a smile upon meeting your gaze, though that very smile dropped into a mischievous glint when she saw that Daemon was with you. 

“Uncle, I did not know you had returned from your travels.” Rhaenyra spoke walking towards the both of you. 

“Niece,” he greeted, “I had just arrived in port at midday.” 

Rhaenyra smiled though it looked more like a mischievous grin than anything. “Ah I see, and you had immediately gone to find my lady-in-waiting have you?” 

Ah, the Princess Rhaenyra, ever the lady without a filter covering her mouth. You wanted to grit your teeth and tell her she shouldn’t be saying things so easily, but you knew she’d simply call you a hypocrite. 

“I do enjoy seeing her face every once and a while, niece.” Daemon glanced slightly at you before going back to look at his niece. 

You wanted to roll your eyes at his flirtatious ministrations. 

“Hm, well, if all you wish is to see her face I believe that wish has been granted. Now the lady and I must go.” Rhaenyra took her hand in yours and quickly began pulling you away. 

You heard Daemon chuckle to himself right before you were out of earshot. 

“Do tell me you aren’t trying to bed my uncle.” Rhaenyra spoke, no sense of malice in her words, only humour. 

“By the six, I would never bed a married man, my lady. The Prince is far from my type of men anyways.” At that, Rhaenyra quirks her brows. 

“Do tell. What does a lady such as yourself look for in a suitor? Perhaps it would give me ideas for my own dream suitor.” She rolls her eyes at the last part of her statement. 

Being by her side all the time and seeing her act regal and noble in front of her many subjects, you’ve almost forgotten that she is still a teenage girl. A teenage girl that bored of her mundane life of being looked down upon by the masses. 

“Loyal.” You answered. 

~

Ever since that day in the gardens, you’ve found yourself unable to sleep a lot of nights, your mind being flooded by images of Daemon. His whisper against your ear, his body close to your own. You found yourself needing to take a breather outside now and again. Almost always your body leads you back to the gardens. 

The cooler air of the night comforted you and let go of any images of Daemon you would have. 

Tonight was a tough night to swallow, though not due to the Rogue Prince. Quite the contrary, your mind was filled by your father. Recently you had gotten word that your father had passed in his sleep. 

Old age has caught up with him and following his dying wish, his attendants and his beloved subjects buried him in the heart of the forest behind your old estate. The forest which you and your father had tracked down and killed much game before your stay in the keep. 

In the letter, it detailed that he had died a few days prior from when you’d received the letter and that the funeral procession had ended. The reason you were not told of the funeral procession was due to your father’s other dying wish. He did not wish for you to be burdened by grief or the past. 

He wanted his death to be just another event in your life, nothing major nor anything to bring concern to. Therefore he didn’t want you to travel all the way to your homeland just for his funeral. Something you gritted your teeth over. 

How dare he decide what was best for you?

Now you were alone in this cruel and tainted world. A little hound alone in a den of dragons. How curious. 

“I thought I’d find you here.”

Daemon’s voice behind you was the last thing you expected to hear when you sat down on one of the many marble benches in the secluded garden. He walked towards the bench and sat beside you, watching the same sight. 

A gorgeous splitting tree grew in the middle of the garden and in the dark of the night, its white flowers almost glowed in radiance. It reminded you slightly of the prince’s own white hair. 

“My father died a few fortnights ago,” you didn’t know what compelled you to open your heart to him at that moment. But you did and there was no turning back, “And now there is one.” You whispered into the night.

“You.” Daemon stated, causing you to nod. 

“Yes, me,” a dry chuckle followed after. “What misfortune befell on my mother to have birthed a daughter instead of a son. You were right, my prince, had I been born a man my lineage would continue. Plenty more bloodhounds would be running around my estate and my house would not die out.” 

You didn’t want to show weakness in front of the prince, not after all the work you’ve put in to fit into the social quo of the Keep. Yet, Daemon does not seem to care. 

“I wouldn’t call it much of a misfortune. If you were born a man, I would not have found you half as beautiful.” 

You couldn’t help the scoff that left your lips, any other time a little voice in your head would tell you that your tongue would be cut off if you did that. But now you didn’t quite care. Your house was dead, you were just the final piece. Whether you died or lived, what legacy would you bring?

“What glory it is to be considered beautiful by a married man.” 

Bitter were your words.

“The bronze bitch is dead.” 

At the sudden rashness of his statement, your head whipped in his direction. 

“My prince, apologies I did not know such news has befallen you-”

“Hah!” he laughed, “It is nothing more than good news. My marriage to her was loveless and lacked any sort of mutual respect. No,” he shook his head and turned towards you. 

Both your eyes met and in a single second, you wondered if his violet eyes lit up in the dark much like the red of fire at midnight. You wouldn’t be all that shocked if Targaryens had that power along with the one to bond with dragons, as Daemon seemed to have another power up his sleeve. Enamouring you with his gaze. 

“I came looking for you to ask for your hand.” Your brows quickly furrowed. 

Your daze broke almost immediately. 

“Pardon me, my prince?” 

“I can take you to Dragonstone and wed you there in Old Valyrian customs. You once said you saw the way I looked at Princess Rhaenyra. But it seems you’re blinder than you thought. They weren’t for her,” 

The cogs in your mind twisted and turned. 

“They were for you.” He closed in.

Your breath was caught in your throat the moment he leaned in. Daemon’s lips were harsh against your own, despite the slowness of his approach he did not hold back in kissing you. In a single moment after you reciprocated, his hand was at the back of your neck, pushing you closer and deeper into him. 

Both your eyes closed you could feel lightning striking through both your bodies, as he pulled you closer to him. Though right before your instinct pushed you to open your lips and let his tongue explore, your thoughts crashed into your mind. 

You quickly pushed away and stood up from the marble bench, your chest heaved from the lack of oxygen and the adrenaline. Daemon quickly stood up as well seeing your bewildered expression. 

“Why?” was your only question. 

Why now?

Why me?

Why the haste?

Why-

Too many questions, yet all start with the word why. 

You could see Daemon take a second to mull over his words, when he did figure out a response his hand reached towards your cheek. Lightly caressing it, a stark juxtaposition on how he had just been handling you moments before. 

“Though I debated on asking for your hand after what you had just told me. I leave for Stepstones at dawn. I intend to make you a bride before then, just as I always hoped for many moons now.” He answered truthfully. 

“You intend to fight the crab-feeder with Lord Corlys and his son?” You inquired, to which he nodded, awaiting your reaction. 

You thought to yourself for a second then a soft smile crept into your face. “Then do not make me your wife tonight, make me your friend.” You held onto his hand as you continued. “Fate and death have touched my father. I do not wish for it to touch my husband. Wed me when you win the war, that way you’ll perhaps find something to look forward to when you fight against these warriors.” 

A surprisingly warm smile befell on the Rogue Prince. He held onto your hand tighter and guided you back to sit down on the bench. An air of comfort and warmth blanketed the two of you in the cold desolate air. 

That night, the two of you spent it in those very same gardens, talking to one another. Not a single drop of wine was shared between the two of you and yet your hearts were open. Not in the way of speaking truthfully but in a way much more intimate. As if the two of you could hear what is unspoken and read what was between the lines. 

Both your minds and souls weaved together that very night. Entangling themselves into one another before the sun would rise and the spell would be broken. There was no need for a touch of passion to be shared. The company was all that mattered to the two of you.

Just as you were about to leave your room as the sun had just begun to peak from the horizon, Daemon stopped you. 

A sense of deja vu rushed towards you, the scene of the last time the two of you were in the garden alone replayed in your mind. 

This time no snide remarks were thrown, instead you turned towards him with no malice. 

His hand held onto your wrist as he spoke, “As something to remember me by.” He stated as he procured a dainty bracelet with a gorgeous red ruby in the middle, he held your wrist and clipped it on. 

“Valyrian steel, it shouldn’t tarnish nor break.” 

Speechless, you spoke only what was in your heart. “Come back to me after the war ends and you’ve had your fill of adventure.”

The two of you shared one last kiss before you turned to leave. 

~

The many months after went on as usual. Your friendship with Rhaenyra grew even stronger the moment she saw the Valyrian steel bracelet, immediately knowing it had to be from Daemon. She had been delighted to know of your and Daemon’s plans once he wins the war in the Stepstones. She yearns to have a true friend permanently within the court. Especially after Alicent’s marriage to her father. 

Unfortunately, it was also due to that event that your relationship with Alicent slowly tarnished itself. 

It seemed not only Rhaenyra realised the source of the bracelet you now wore every day. Otto Hightower was one of the many who had his suspicions. Whether you were another one of Daemon’s whores or if the rumours are true and you plan on wedding him. Otto knew you’d be a formidable opponent in his wishes for Aegon to be the king, for his blood to belong on the throne. 

So he pulls Alicent away from you, to make what he was about to do easier. 

One day a guard had called you over during one of your few alone times, seeing as Rhaenyra was with her Septa. The guard informed you that you have been called to trial under the eyes of King Viserys and the Seven. You didn’t know what was happening, but you weren’t a fool to not comply. 

Daemon’s words echoed through your head the longer the walk took from your bed chambers to the small council’s room. 

“There are snakes aiming to bite at your ankles, little hound. Keep a watchful eye.”

When you arrived at the small council meeting your worst fears were made into fruition. Inside the room was the whole small council including Alicent, which meant a good majority of them were people who didn’t like you. 

Sir Harold called your name as you kept your eyes trained in front of you. 

“You are trialled under the eye of King Viserys the first of his name, King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and under the watchful eye of the Seven. You are accused of dark witchcraft and conspiracy against the crown. How do you plead to these accusations.”

The suddenness of everything stunned you. Your brows furrowed and your eyes widened as your gaze flickered towards Alicent. She refused to look in your direction and so you immediately turned towards Otto, he was staring dead into your figure. 

“Excuse me?” you finally croaked out, “My King, I assure you I have never done witchcraft in my life and I would never plot against the crown. My father died to put me here, I would never do anything that would harm my house’s name as the last living member of it.” You practically rambled feeling panic begin to bubble up against your throat. 

There was a great silence in the room as you looked towards King Viserys. Despite being his daughter’s closest confidant, you didn’t have much interaction with the King himself, always so busy being pulled away by Otto. Realising the situation you found yourself in, you took in a deep shaky breath, swallowing the panic down as you gazed forward. 

“I plead not guilty.” You needed to regain your composure, all you had to do was convince Viserys, which shouldn’t be too hard. 

“I apologise for the formalities, I find this rather unimportant considering half of the things going on at this moment.” Viserys suddenly speaks with a sigh. “It’s clear my daughter’s lady-in-waiting is not a witch, now could we move on?” 

“I understand why you might be fooled by her, my king, but as my daughter come forth she will show you undoubtable proof.”

With a sigh, Viserys nodded towards the young Alicent’s direction. Alicent walked with bated breath towards the table without a single glance in your direction. 

Like clockwork, she placed a small doll made out of some scrap fabric roughly in the shape of a human proportion. However when she placed it down on the table the doll slightly tumbled forward and revealed its front. 

Though there was stitching in the middle of the abdomen, it’s clear that someone had ripped parts of the stitching open, revealing the inside of the doll. Sheep wool mixed with hair, human hair in the same wool’s colour was stuffed within the doll. 

This was no normal hair, it was Targaryen hair. 

This was no doll or toy, it was a poppet. 

“I had saw the increasing distance between the Princess Rhaenyra with my daughter after your marriage, my king, so I sent my daughter to reconcile with the princess. As the princess is usually seen with her lady-in-waiting, I sent Alicent to her room first. She returned to me in haste and panic, she had found a poppet under the lady’s carpet. A witch’s poppet, no doubt used to forsake you and your future male heir, my king.” 

“Lies!” You quickly yelled out, causing the entire room to look at you. “I have never seen that poppet in my life!” 

Seeing the way Viserys scrutinizes you underneath his gaze, panic bubbled up. Your eyes were blown wide you took a hurried step closer towards the council’s table. In a surprising response, the guards beside Viserys pulled out their swords. The blade aimed towards you. Your heart stopped in your chest. 

“Stay where you are, witch.” Otto stated, looking around and seeing no one on your side you took a few steps backwards, going back to your previous position. 

“Apologies for my outburst, your highness. But I can assure you, I’ve been framed. I’ve never seen a poppet in my life. I do not even know how to create one. My teachings are well documented by my septa from my homeland, if you wish to know of my good nature, ask my people. They know I would never forsake the throne.” You tried explaining yourself. 

Viserys gritted his teeth as he reached out towards the poppet. Silence enveloped the room as people awaited his response. Using his fingers, Viserys pried the front open even more, and there he pulled one of the hair strands. It was long, longer than his hair. He recognised it as Rhaenyra’s. A gasp left you at the sight of it. 

“This,” he glared at you, waving the poppet in the air, “This is blasphemy and conspiracy not only towards me but my daughter. You think I’d believe the words of a witch?” 

“My king, please! I beg of you to believe me.” Ignoring all kinds of shame you dropped to your knees, urgency clawing at you. “I have been in the Princess’ service for a very long time. I see her as my closest friend, I would never do anything to harm her. If you must doubt my character, do not doubt the maids who clean and tend to my quarters. Surely they should’ve found it had I kept a poppet of the princess this entire time?!” 

You tried reasoning with the king, even going so low as begging him. You didn’t know what to do. You knew what was happening, Otto Hightower. That reptile amongst dragons wanted to rid of you. But if you were to accuse him of treason, then your case would not stand. As it stands, Viserys trusted him more than you. 

Viserys stayed silent, as did the court. No one spoke to defend you, no one spoke to scrutinize you. Because the end was clear. The king looked at you with contempt.

“Please.” You made a final plea. 

“For your crimes, I would sentence you to an execution.” You wanted to scream but your pride wouldn’t let you. “But I appreciate and take account of the many years you have spent under the servitude of my daughter. For that, I sentence you to banishment. Leave Westeros at the first boat towards Essos. I’ll allow a single bag of your belongings to carry with you. What you do then will not be of any concern to me. Leave.”

~

What followed after came in quick succession. 

First, all your pleas and desperation dissipated. In its place was hot, flaming anger. Any and all niceties disappeared from you as you walked out of the room with a glare. 

Second, your maids were standing waiting for you in your room. Their heads bowed low as they try not to look into your eyes. They know the charges were false, they know you were framed. But they also knew they could not do anything, so you sighed silently and packed what was necessary. 

Your father had you taught all the necessary things a lady needed to know. How to sew, how to weave, how to speak, and how to enamour. But he had also taught you all the necessary things a lord needed to know. 

With no one else to lend down his knowledge, it was all for you. He taught you how to hunt, how to build a fire, how to fight, and most of all, how to survive. 

Third, you were sent off in a boat to Essos to Gods knows where. With only Alicent and Otto to watch and make sure you were truly leaving, your princess on the other side of Westeros finding suitors, and the man you love fighting in a war– you swore to yourself. 

You will survive. 

~

Daemon returned not a moon cycle after your banishment. Surprising everyone, Rhaenyra came minutes after Caraxes landed in the dragon pit. She had ended her tour early and Daemon had won the war. It was both a momentous and a frustrating day for Viserys. 

The war in the Stepstones was won and Daemon had bowed to him in front of his entire court. That very event warranted a celebration. 

Almost immediately the kitchens bustled to life, the servants prepared delicacies and parties. 

As Viserys laughed at stories from both his and his brother’s youth, Daemon could not help but let his eyes wander. He had known of Rhaenyra’s tour in search of a suitor. He had also known you had not gone with her for reasons unknown. So he had expected you to be here now to celebrate his win. 

He had planned on whisking you away in the night like that day he swore himself to you, bringing you to Dragonstone, and finally wed you, just as he promised.

Yet, you were nowhere to be found. 

When Daemon found out about your banishment, the Keep found out how irrational the Rogue Prince could be. Not a moment later, he mounted Caraxes and left King’s Landing for Essos, leaving behind an array of shouts and arguments with both his brother and the King’s hand. 

Rhaenyra didn’t take it any less lightly either. Though she could not simply fly off to a distant continent, she made sure her distaste and anger were felt across the estate. Any and all attempts of Alicent to speak to her were all brushed away harsher and colder than last time. In a bout of rebellion, the princess halted speaking with her father for a long period of time. 

But just as time continues to move on, so do people. After many soldiers and men were sent off to Essos to look for Daemon, the Rogue Prince finally returned. Muck and dirt stuck to his body like skin. From his eyes, everyone knew not to set him off. 

The prince wreaked havoc with his gold cloaks not long after. Loyal only to him, the soldiers became increasingly harsher in their punishments, all at his order.

Viserys never knew true anger as when he had thought Daemon had had his fill of violence and asked him to marry Laena Velaryon, to strengthen ties between house Velaryon and Targaryen. 

The lady was a friend of his, just as Rhaenyra is. But the anger that overtook Daemon at the mere idea of his brother banishing the woman he loved, only to send him away once more to marry someone else burned within him. 

Arguments, insults, and threats were poured upon them like wine on a wedding night. The keep did not know peace for a long time after that. 

However what did end up happening was that Laena Velaryon married another nobleman, and from her came Baela and Rhaena. Daemon would stay in Driftmark with Laena, all to cause gossip and havoc within King’s Landing and to cause even more of a headache to his brother. 

There he witnessed her husband’s untimely death due to an accident and her own during childbirth. He saw the way Laena’s body burned up in flames, leaving both Rhaena and Baela alone in the world. Just like that, he has lost another friend. 

In a single moment, he had thought about you. To the last night, he saw you. The two of you basking in the moonlight as you told him about your mother. Her untimely death. Seeing the way it tore you apart, he took it upon himself to take the two girls as wards of his family. He raised them as if they were his own. A part of him wondered what you’d think of him if he saw you. How he wished sometimes as he looked into the eyes of Baela and Rhaena after he comforted them of their mother’s death, that he was looking into the eyes of your daughters. The daughters he could imagine himself having with you. 

Would they have his platinum hair or would they have yours? Perhaps your eyes, though purple would look gorgeous. At night when he slumbers, he imagines and dreams about them. 

Children of his own with you. Be it two daughters like Laenas or three sons like Rhaenyra. He imagines them with your smile and mind, soft, comforting, but sharp and precise. From him, he hoped they’d have his tenacity, his edge for battle, his stubbornness, and perhaps his love for their mother as well. 

But when the sun rises and he wakes, they stay in his dreams. Forever missing.

Perhaps it was bitterness, perhaps it was anger, or perhaps it was something as simple as pettiness. But he knew the whole reason he pushed Rhaenyra for the war was because he urged for revenge. 

Then when that day came, the day when the Gods cried and thunder ripped through the sky, he held too many regrets as he leapt from Caraxes and plunged Dark Sister deep into his niece’s good eye. 

The battle above God’s Eye was a brutal one. 

Vhagar, a war dragon in her own right, yet slow from age, against Caraxes, the blood wyrm, the only dragon which can match Daemon’s bloodlust and anger, but always blinded by his rider’s emotions. 

Then Daemon, the Rogue Prince, fuelled by pure rage and revenge which boiled within him for years before his opponent was even born, against Aemond, the one-eyed-prince, who knows nothing but the desperate and filthy feeling of wanting to make good of his name. 

Their fight raged for what seemed like forever. 

The sky cracked and burned with lightning and rain. As Caraxes barely weaved through Vhagar’s piercing jaw, Daemon angrily yelled out. He could see no way he would win this, but he would be damned and let Alicent win. He’ll have to take down both Aemond and Vhagar, even if it costs him his life. 

Just as Aemond yells out commands to Vhagar, trying desperately to steer her, Daemon prepares his final attack. And when Vhagar’s jagged and sharp teeth finally sank their might into Caraxes’ wings, Daemon leapt. 

Aemond’s one good eye widened in fear as he struggled with the many straps that bound him to the queen of dragons. He could not get away. 

Daemon rained down on Aemond’s one good eye like the Gods’ judgement. Plunging dark sister deep into his skull, whilst Caraxes’ neck sprawled to bite Vhagar’s neck. 

The four of them fell to the raging sea like Gods. Kin killing kin, dragon killing dragon. Blood dyed the sea red that night. Daemon could only hope you would forgive him for his abandonment in the afterlife. 

Had he known that was the last night he’d ever seen you, perhaps he would’ve never gone to the Stepstones. 

So as saltwater fills his lungs and burns his eyes, he relinquishes himself to death. 

~

Deer fur has never been the softest, it’s short, stubbly, and quite harsh on the skin. But it is one of the best to bed with when winter comes. Due to this, a layer of sheep fur is always useful when placed atop of deer fur when one wants to sleep. The softness of the sheep perfectly balances the warmth of the deer.

Warmth, comfort, and the plushness of sheep fur atop deer fur greeted Daemon when he roused. 

He had thought the afterlife would be warmer and brighter. 

When he opens his eyes, the only thing he can see is a haphazardly made wooden roof, dimly lit by very few candles. One of those candles was beside him, giving off some warmth to the side of his face. 

His eyes squinted as they tried to adjust to the dim lighting. When he finds that he can’t he tries to move his limbs. Surely if he was dead then his injuries would amount to nothing. 

That assumption couldn’t have been more wrong as the moment he tried to sit up using his elbows, pain travelled through his entire body more painful than anything else he’d ever imagined. Causing him to collapse back onto the fur-lined bed. 

He groaned loudly as his senses jolted awake from the pain stabbed within him. Was the afterlife truly this ruthless that it asks him to feel his injuries though dead? 

His mind feels muddled as if a haze is crossing his eyes. His vision blurs and returns at random intervals and he feels sick. He knows he has a fever. Daemon feels the heat on his skin, despite the coolness of the air around him. 

Once more, he tries to move. This time to do a much less taxing task than the one prior. He tries to move some of the animal pelts around him, lessen the heat surrounding him. 

But when he lifts his arm to try, the door to the measly home opens with a shuddering sound. 

“Gods, you’re awake!” he hears a voice, though it rings in his head and he can barely make out the words.

Had his head not been spinning and pounding against his entire being, he would’ve looked to his left to see who it was. 

“Oh no, please stay still. Your injuries are grave and you’ve suffered so much frost.” The voice returns again albeit he still can’t make out the owner of the voice nor the words they speak. 

The figure, hazy in colour and shape runs towards him as they fix back his pelts to cover his body. He realises then that he isn’t clothed. He groans when they accidentally place very light pressure on one of his bruises. 

“I’m sorry,” they whisper, running towards a table somewhere in the room. 

When they return they hold a bowl of viscous liquid. 

“Drink it, it’ll help with the drowsiness and the pain.” They speak softly and very slowly. 

Though he doesn’t fully comprehend the words, Daemon is too far in his injuries to resist any kind of medicine. The bowl was brought onto his lips and he slowly drinks the viscous and bitter liquid. It burns his throat and tastes disgusting. He almost gags at the feeling of it running down his mouth. 

When he finishes the bowl, the figure places it aside and comes back to his bedside. 

Slowly, his ragged breathing returns to normal as his head stops its terrible spinning. The fatigue and pain of his muscles and bruises were still there but the burn of them lessened. 

When he can feel his throat and mouth again, he trusts himself to speak. 

“Who are you?” he whispers. 

The figure’s face expresses something, their mouth moves to emote but his vision is still too blurry to know what they are doing. 

“I’ll answer your questions once you’ve fully come to yourself. Rest for now, my prince.” 

They reach out to brush a strand of his hair that stuck to his sweat-lined forehead. In the corner of his eye, before he succumbs to sleep once more, he sees a silver bracelet. He does not know why he feels safe enough to sleep. But his mind wills him to and his body is too tired to care. 

~

In the days that followed, Daemon comes in and out of consciousness. Every time with blurry vision and a pounding headache. The figure aides to him as best as they can, he remembers them replacing the cold rag on his forehead every now and again. Feed him water and broth, anything liquid enough for him to drink and not have to chew. 

On the 1st full moon since his first rouse, he wakes long enough to focus on his vision. The figure wasn’t there, wherever they may be, Daemon was glad for the small moment of respite. It gave him time to think about what had happened. 

The fight above God’s Eye. Vhagar struck after Caraxes. His blade embedded itself in his niece. Then his fall. How he has survived so far was beyond him. A part of him wishes he was dead. Let the cold water fill his lungs again, let the salt burn against his eyes, let it stop his heart. Let him meet the one he loved. 

But no, it seemed the Gods had cursed him with a life longer than he neither wanted nor deserved. 

The figure didn’t come back for at least another hour, since then Daemon has found strength within himself to move his limbs lightly without much pain. His body ached from the lack of movement but that wasn’t the thing he was focused on. 

With much rest and nutritious broth, the strength in his mind had returned. With it came his clear vision. Clear enough to see the woman who walked through the haphazardly created wooden door, carrying two hares. 

Her clothes were ragged, her hair a mess, her skin muddied with dirt and God knows what else from the hunt. Her riding gear was old and tattered, barely holding onto dear life. But he’d still recognise her even if her body was covered with scars and burns. It was you. 

Daemon was confident he looked like a buck who’d just realised a quiver was pointed at it with the way he was looking at you. Eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed. His eyes focused on you as you huffed your way across this simple home of yours. 

Pulling off your shoes and discarding all your gear before grabbing a knife to skin the hares. You hadn’t realised Daemon was awake, he was far too quiet for that. It gave time for Daemon to wonder if he died during his sleep or if you were truly real. 

It wasn’t until you’d finished skinning and butchering the hare, placing the skin and organs away for something else and clearing the blood and butchered pieces away that you noticed he was awake. At first, your reaction had been shock, your eyebrows rose and your mouth went slightly agape at the intensity of Daemon’s stare. 

But then it softened, and a smile crept its way onto your face. You sighed and placed down your dirty and bloody rag, walking over towards him as his eyes followed you. Your hand, now clean, went over to push away some strands of his hair. Then his eyes caught onto the bracelet once more. 

It was you, truly you. You with the valyrian steel bracelet he gave to you so many years ago. 

In the choking intensity, Daemon whispered your name once. Like how a devoted disciple would towards his most forgiving of Gods. 

“Yes, my love?” You whispered, equally as quiet and reverent. 

Daemon choked. 

Emotions and years upon years of longing and yearning crawled their way from his heart all the way to his mind a mouth. Rendering him speechless. 

“Welcome back, my love.” You repeat, leaning down to press a soft kiss on his forehead. 

Not much was done afterwards, though Daemon’s body still pulled him to rest, he tried with all his might to stay awake. Afraid that if he closed his eyes you’d disappear. 

But with a soft voice, you coaxed him back to rest. Promising to speak to him once he heals. That was the only thing which allowed him to go back to a peaceful rest. 

~

The next time he awoke, it wasn’t a peaceful rouse. Quite the opposite. A loud shrill sound echoed through the house, it shook the windows and burst through the walls. He knew that sound. Caraxes. 

With little to no care for his own well-being, Daemon sprung upwards, since he first woke he’d been clothed. Though it was just a simple and thin shirt and pants to cover himself up but not overheat him in case of a fever. 

He winced slightly over the sudden action but the sound of Caraxes led him towards the exit. Clutching his side he lightly limped towards the door and struggled to open it. 

“Lykiri Caraxes! Lykiri! Daemon is alright, he’s healing!” 

You were in front of the blood wyrm, standing between the large dragon and your measly home. What bravery you held to stand your grown though he could tell the way you shivered you were just as terrified as many at the sight of the dragon. 

Caraxes had severe scars all throughout his body, many were closed off, but he could see some marks on his wing and leg which had been expertly dressed with soft leaves. Have you been caring for Caraxes as well?

His thoughts were cut off when Caraxes let out another shrill cry, his head lowering to be at the same level as your much smaller form. 

“Lykiri Caraxes,” though he could barely speak above his normal tone, both you and Caraxes heard him quite clearly. 

At the sight of his rider, somewhat healthy and standing, Caraxes let out another shrill cry. Though you swear this one sounded much higher pitched. All before he himself also lightly limped away and slumped to the ground not so far away from your fireplace. 

“Daemon,” you spoke before rushing towards him to support him. “You shouldn’t be walking around yet!” 

At the sudden reprimand, he laughed, “And let you be eaten by Caraxes?” 

You huffed, “He wouldn’t, I’ve been tending him for far too long.” You took a nervous glance towards the beast, “At least I hope he wouldn’t.”

“He wouldn’t.” Daemon states, leaning his head towards your own. Treasuring the feeling of your body against his. “How?” The question hangs heavy in the air. 

“Well he’s been unconscious far longer than you have so it was easy to try and patch by his wounds. My only fear was if he didn’t wake up he wouldn’t be able to eat anything, so every now and again I’d leave dead sheep around him in case he wakes up so he could immediately eat. But for the dressing, I don’t have enough cloth to bandage or do anything so I used soft leaves. It’s what I used when I first got here so I thought it’d be al-”

Though you misunderstand the question, Daemon can’t help but feel amused by your lack of hesitancy in speaking. He wouldn’t expect you to go on a tangent like you do now back when the two of you were still in King’s Landing. Years before the war. 

“I mean, how are you alive,” he questions after silence over his laughter cutting you off. 

At the question, the mood thickens. 

“Let’s talk inside.” 

You supported Daemon as he staggered inside the small house. Sitting him down lightly over the makeshift bed you’ve been able to make with cloth, feathers, and several different kinds of pelts. 

There when the two of you got comfortable you handed him a drinking bowl of warm tea as you sipped on your own. Only after the two of you finished both your tea did you start. 

You told him about your banishment, and how Alicent and Otto Hightower framed you for witchcraft and conspiring against the crown. How it was only due to your connection with Rhaenyra that you were able to miss the death sentence. Then you told him about your life in banishment. Essos hadn’t been too bad. 

Of course, it took a lot to learn new skills and put them to work. But there were a surprising amount of kind people in the area, especially the worshipers and monks. They taught you how to survive, but you couldn’t leech off of their kindness forever. 

So with what little gold you had from working odd jobs here and there, you left for a stranded area. With what survival skills you’d learn you had slowly built a home for yourself. The beach was what brought Daemon and Caraxes to you. Caraxes had been bloodied and mangled. Yet he desperately held Daemon in his claws as he dragged Daemon’s body across the sand. 

It was only when he saw you that he collapsed, leaving both the large dragon and his rider to your care. For the past month, you had been making the trip from your home to the beach to care for both Daemon and Caraxes. 

Only today did Caraxes find it in himself to wake and fly, though barely. It was when Caraxes landed on your home did Daemon woke up. 

That brought you to that very moment. 

After you finished, there was a great silence between the two of you. 

Daemon was the first to break it. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Daemon Targaryen, the Prince of Dragonstone, the Rogue Prince, the red wyrm’s rider, amongst his many titles and nicknames, seldom apologised. But with nothing else to his name or on his tongue at this very moment, he thought of the only thing he could say, an apology. 

You smiled, casting your gaze to your hands, sheepishly shying away from his intense look as you thought of how to answer him. 

“What do you have to apologise for, Daemon?”

His name fell like honey off your tongue, like a choir of songbirds, like the sweetest of fruits from Highgarden. The simple act of it threatened to bring tears to his eyes. How long he had waited for that? For you, to say his name one more time. 

He remembered the last time he’d prayed to the gods in his adulthood. It was when he first heard of your banishment. Atop of Caraxes, the beast felt Daemon’s fear and anger clutch against his heart as the red beast ripped through clouds and skies trying to look for any semblance of you. Daemon prayed then. Prayed to find you, prayed to hear you, prayed to see you. 

Anything. 

No gods heard his plead that night and so he stopped. 

But now it felt like every wish he had ever spoken had come true.

There were no words left to speak. Only actions. 

Careful and dainty actions, considering Daemon’s physical state. Your lips pressed and moulded against one another. Letting years upon years of pent-up yearning and hopes spill through a single act. 

Your heart soared, here was the man you loved, finally in your bed. No more words were spoken that night. Only sighs and soft moans of pleasure and contentment were heard throughout the lone and simple house. 

As the two of you lay in one another’s company, new hopes soared between the two of you. And Daemon promises one last thing, a promise he intends to fulfil this time. 

The promise of bringing you back home to Dragonstone once Caraxes and he can.

Why Daemon? “Once I had wondered what was holding’ up the ground // But I can see that all along, love, it was you all the way down // Leave it now, I am sky-bound // If you need to, darling, lean your weight to me // We’ll gloat away, but if we fall // I only pray, don’t fall away from me.” The song references to Icarus and Deadalus, the myth speaks about the Greek value of moderation. Icarus falls because he is so enchanted by his godly visage and his lightness that he’s enchanted by the sun and the wax melts. Hozier talks about an all encompassing feeling of falling in love that encompasses your being so much so that you’d do anything for your love. In more ways than one, both the Reader and Daemon have fallen from grace due to their love for one another. It’s the godly pull they have with each other that leads to Reader’s banishment and Daemon’s belief that she’s dead. The song inspires the last and first part of Daemon and Reader’s romance story, they lean on one another in more ways than one. Reader becomes Daemon’s friend, a true and honest friend built on mutual respect and affection. Whilst Daemon becomes Reader’s confidant, someone to go for comfort and source of joy. By the end of the story, neither thinks about the past, Daemon doesn’t care about the way the Reader has been living and Reader doesn’t care too much about why Daemon and Caraxes’ so injured. The two of them just cares for each other that nothing else matters and I think that’s so fucking sweet. 

[inkareds]

I, Carrion - Hozier

Daemon Targaryen

5/10 - Unreal Unearth Event

nav // event masterlist // hotd m.list (tba) // ko-fi // taglist

✧.* word count: 8.8k (long boy)

✧.* genre: angst -> comfort // sfw (but adult themes)

✧.* warnings: slow burn-ish, the reader is female, Otto and Alicent are minor villains, details of sickness (Daemon not reader lmao)

"Leave it now, I am sky-bound // If you need to, darling, lean your weight to me // We'll float away, but if we fall // I only pray, don't fall away from me"

Being the last member of a noble house was difficult, and the fact that you were a woman made it even more difficult. Surprisingly, you've found comfort in the Rogue Prince, and even more surprising when he finds comfort in you. A comfort built on mutual affection and respect, something a certain someone in court feels threatened by

Parts of this story were inspired by The Crucible, you'll know what I mean after you've read the story. Also hiiiii, I'm so happy to be back from my LONG hiatus, I'm feeling a lot better and hopefully will get into the writing groove back!

As always, lyric and story breakdown at the end of the story

Your mother died on the birthing bed, she had fought valiantly, screaming, crying, and clawing at the sheets trying to push you, her firstborn, out. 

When you echoed your first cries, your father came into the room, he held your mother’s hand and wept, the last thing she spoke was a plea to your father to love their daughter and to give it a name she chose. 

Your father honoured this last wish of your mother as she died. 

He raised you with nothing but a doting sort of love but he knew his time was limited. 

The Gods had not been kind to him or your mother, you were their first child in over ten years of marriage and in your birth, you had taken your mother. Because of this, your father found no more reason to remarry. His heart belonged wholly to your mother, he gave everything to her and in return to you, the last thing he has of her. 

Though that meant the extinction of his house once you marry or pass on, he doesn’t seem to mind it. He did fear for you, now ten and eight years of age. 

He feared for what would become of you once he dies, with no more kin to lean on and coming from a house that wasn’t as powerful as most others in your region, he wishes for you to live in content. 

So one day when a raven is sent out to many noble houses in search of a lady-in-waiting for the young Princess Rhaenyra, your father jumped at the opportunity. You were close of age to her and her other lady-in-waiting lady Alicent Hightower, though you were slightly older. He found this to be the perfect opportunity. 

After consolidating with you, he sends you off to King’s Landing with the hopes of interesting the princess enough that you’d become her lady-in-waiting. Much to his joy the princess was taken by you. 

You were straightforward and spoke rather brazenly compared to the other prim and proper ladies. Something Rhaenyra loved.  You quickly wrote to your father about how she told you that you amused her greatly and that she admires your sharp words and quick wit. 

After being chosen as a lady-in-waiting for Princess Rhaenyra, you came home only to retrieve your belongings before moving to live in King’s Landing. Your father had wept in private with you before you left, you were the last thing he had of your mother and though you did not know her, he says that you were quite similar to her. In that way, he felt if he could give you a content life, he’d be giving an extension of her another content life. 

“Promise me you’ll survive there, surrounded by dragons, you have to be strong, my beautiful daughter.” He weeps as he pulls you closer to him. 

Your father was old, older than what most men were when they had their firstborn, and so you knew he didn’t have long left. With what little time the Gods give him, you want to make him proud and happy. 

“I will father, I will keep both you and mother in my heart.” Your father pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

“Then promise me you’ll survive no matter what, you’ll live and you shall thrive.” He looks at you with determination shining in his eyes. 

“I swear to you, I will not let those courtly dragons drag me down.” 

With that, you left your home for King’s Landing. 

It wasn’t much different, you weren’t from rigid lands like Dorne or Winterfell, so the weather didn’t bother you much. What did bother you was the social customs that you were expected to adhere to.

 Back home, your house was small but highly respected by the common folk around you as well as the other noble houses around you. Seeing as how in, what most assume, a couple of years you will be the last of your house, the noblemen and women of your lands gave you much more freedom than most women. 

You didn’t butter your words and spoke with an ardent fever when the topic would land on one of the many you were well-educated in. That was another thing you found ridiculous, the only women that were highly educated seemed to be the highest nobles. And those were Lady Alicent and the Princess herself. Those two were the only ones you found you could talk to. 

Whilst the men, as knowledgeable as they were, were rude and distasteful. You had found no comfort in court and found it difficult to hide your sneer any time anyone second-guessed Rhaenyra’s position as a princess and her father’s firstborn. 

The two of you shared a bond unlike any other, you were your father’s firstborn, just as she is. But unlike her, you hold none of the pressures she has from everyone around her to rise above her station while sitting prim and proper as the perfect lady. So she blossoms whenever she speaks to you, in you she sees a different side of the coin she resided in. 

And when her uncle comes to visit, let’s just say, her interest in you grows exponentially. 

“Prince Daemon, it is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance once more.” You curtsied at him when he caught you walking through the garden. 

The roguish prince grinned. 

“Might I ask why my niece’s attendant is roaming around without my niece at sight?” He nears you. 

“Princess Rhaenyra is studying with her Septa, my prince, during her lessons I am not with her.” You explained to him. 

After a few years of attending to Rhaenyra, you have met Daemon repeatedly. You would be lying if you said you didn’t find the prince quite charming, in a sly way. What little conversations you’ve had with him, he’d found humour and entertained your sharp tongue. Not to mention he actually speaks to you when topics of your knowledge come into the conversation. Unlike many of the men here who then go on a tirade about the topic, boasting about their knowledge, completely ignoring any of your statements. 

“May I ask what troubles you?” You ask when you see him observing you. 

"Do you think Rhaenyra is suited for the throne?" 

The sudden serious question caught you off guard. Though you tried to answer as honestly as possible, knowing the Prince would find it more favourable. 

"Of course, I do, she is the king's firstborn, knowledgeable, headstrong, and stubborn. This realm needs a strong leader, not one easily swayed by their court,” you paused, deciding to poke the bear, or in this case, the dragon, “I hope I could trust you not to misconstrued my words and twist them in court, my Prince.” You grinned. 

Daemon chuckled, letting his head fall back ever so slightly as he took a step towards you. 

“Now why would I do that?” 

Your eyes focused on him, “Perhaps to take all of the Princess’ attention? I do see the way you look at her, my Prince. I may not be well-accustomed to the queer traditions of the old Valyrians, but I am not blind. Perhaps you are jealous she’s spending her time with me and wishes to rid of me.” 

Standing in the deserted gardens nestled deep in the Keep, Daemon takes another step closer to you, pressuring you to take a step backwards. Yet you stand your ground, unwilling to let the invisible strings of tension pull you back as he pushes you forward with his noble visage. 

“You are one of the last interesting people in this keep. Dare I say, with a tongue like that and a mind like yours, if you were born a man you’d have been seated somewhere in my brother’s court. But alas, you were born to be the last of your house.” 

At the slight snide comment of your house, all but little of your playfulness dissipated. Of course, you understood the dire situation of your house, but you would be a fool to let its name be tarnished and insulted. 

“Alas, unfortunately so, if that is all you wish to say to me, then I shall take my leave,” you tilted your head upwards before lightly bowing and turning to leave. 

Daemon sighed with a tired smile before reaching out to grab your arm. 

“Are all southerners brass and easily emotional?” He remarks, causing a humourless and graceless fake smile to fill your expression. 

“If I am as emotional as you say I am I wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to roll my eyes at your words. Yet, here I am, still smiling, it seems I’m less emotional than you think I am, Prince Daemon.” You spoke the last words through gritted teeth, clearly showing your sarcasm. 

“As much as I do enjoy our banter, I did come here to talk business, though it seems you had distracted me.” At his statement, your brows furrowed and finally, you turned towards him. Seeing as you don’t seem to walk away, Daemon lets go of your arm. “There are snakes aiming to bite at your ankles, little hound. Keep a watchful eye.” 

Little hound, the nickname that used to make your blood boil as a child. Your house sigil consisted of the body of a bloodhound, standing regal with its head held up high and one paw in the air. It perfectly encapsulated your house’s longstanding history as a loyal and trustworthy house with a mind unlike any other. Your father gave you the nickname when you were younger as you would play with the pups and dogs near the farms. 

Later on, the nickname would catch on through the common folk. Little hound they called you. When Daemon first spoke of it, he spoke as if it was an insult. The little hound, the last of the bloodhounds of your house. 

But now it sounded different. 

“I would watch your back much closer,” he leaned closer to almost whisper to your ear, sending chills down your spine. “I’d hate for my favourite source of entertainment to disappear.” 

As quickly as he got serious, the boyish bravado and ease came back, Daemon pulled away, taking a step backwards to create some space between the two of you. Right before you open your mouth to inquire him about the statement, another voice joins you. 

“There you are, I had been looking everywhere for you.” 

You quickly looked back at the sound of the Princess’s voice. The young Rhaenyra stood there with a smile upon meeting your gaze, though that very smile dropped into a mischievous glint when she saw that Daemon was with you. 

“Uncle, I did not know you had returned from your travels.” Rhaenyra spoke walking towards the both of you. 

“Niece,” he greeted, “I had just arrived in port at midday.” 

Rhaenyra smiled though it looked more like a mischievous grin than anything. “Ah I see, and you had immediately gone to find my lady-in-waiting have you?” 

Ah, the Princess Rhaenyra, ever the lady without a filter covering her mouth. You wanted to grit your teeth and tell her she shouldn’t be saying things so easily, but you knew she’d simply call you a hypocrite. 

“I do enjoy seeing her face every once and a while, niece.” Daemon glanced slightly at you before going back to look at his niece. 

You wanted to roll your eyes at his flirtatious ministrations. 

“Hm, well, if all you wish is to see her face I believe that wish has been granted. Now the lady and I must go.” Rhaenyra took her hand in yours and quickly began pulling you away. 

You heard Daemon chuckle to himself right before you were out of earshot. 

“Do tell me you aren’t trying to bed my uncle.” Rhaenyra spoke, no sense of malice in her words, only humour. 

“By the six, I would never bed a married man, my lady. The Prince is far from my type of men anyways.” At that, Rhaenyra quirks her brows. 

“Do tell. What does a lady such as yourself look for in a suitor? Perhaps it would give me ideas for my own dream suitor.” She rolls her eyes at the last part of her statement. 

Being by her side all the time and seeing her act regal and noble in front of her many subjects, you’ve almost forgotten that she is still a teenage girl. A teenage girl that bored of her mundane life of being looked down upon by the masses. 

“Loyal.” You answered. 

~

Ever since that day in the gardens, you’ve found yourself unable to sleep a lot of nights, your mind being flooded by images of Daemon. His whisper against your ear, his body close to your own. You found yourself needing to take a breather outside now and again. Almost always your body leads you back to the gardens. 

The cooler air of the night comforted you and let go of any images of Daemon you would have. 

Tonight was a tough night to swallow, though not due to the Rogue Prince. Quite the contrary, your mind was filled by your father. Recently you had gotten word that your father had passed in his sleep. 

Old age has caught up with him and following his dying wish, his attendants and his beloved subjects buried him in the heart of the forest behind your old estate. The forest which you and your father had tracked down and killed much game before your stay in the keep. 

In the letter, it detailed that he had died a few days prior from when you’d received the letter and that the funeral procession had ended. The reason you were not told of the funeral procession was due to your father’s other dying wish. He did not wish for you to be burdened by grief or the past. 

He wanted his death to be just another event in your life, nothing major nor anything to bring concern to. Therefore he didn’t want you to travel all the way to your homeland just for his funeral. Something you gritted your teeth over. 

How dare he decide what was best for you?

Now you were alone in this cruel and tainted world. A little hound alone in a den of dragons. How curious. 

“I thought I’d find you here.”

Daemon’s voice behind you was the last thing you expected to hear when you sat down on one of the many marble benches in the secluded garden. He walked towards the bench and sat beside you, watching the same sight. 

A gorgeous splitting tree grew in the middle of the garden and in the dark of the night, its white flowers almost glowed in radiance. It reminded you slightly of the prince’s own white hair. 

“My father died a few fortnights ago,” you didn’t know what compelled you to open your heart to him at that moment. But you did and there was no turning back, “And now there is one.” You whispered into the night.

“You.” Daemon stated, causing you to nod. 

“Yes, me,” a dry chuckle followed after. “What misfortune befell on my mother to have birthed a daughter instead of a son. You were right, my prince, had I been born a man my lineage would continue. Plenty more bloodhounds would be running around my estate and my house would not die out.” 

You didn’t want to show weakness in front of the prince, not after all the work you’ve put in to fit into the social quo of the Keep. Yet, Daemon does not seem to care. 

“I wouldn’t call it much of a misfortune. If you were born a man, I would not have found you half as beautiful.” 

You couldn’t help the scoff that left your lips, any other time a little voice in your head would tell you that your tongue would be cut off if you did that. But now you didn’t quite care. Your house was dead, you were just the final piece. Whether you died or lived, what legacy would you bring?

“What glory it is to be considered beautiful by a married man.” 

Bitter were your words.

“The bronze bitch is dead.” 

At the sudden rashness of his statement, your head whipped in his direction. 

“My prince, apologies I did not know such news has befallen you-”

“Hah!” he laughed, “It is nothing more than good news. My marriage to her was loveless and lacked any sort of mutual respect. No,” he shook his head and turned towards you. 

Both your eyes met and in a single second, you wondered if his violet eyes lit up in the dark much like the red of fire at midnight. You wouldn’t be all that shocked if Targaryens had that power along with the one to bond with dragons, as Daemon seemed to have another power up his sleeve. Enamouring you with his gaze. 

“I came looking for you to ask for your hand.” Your brows quickly furrowed. 

Your daze broke almost immediately. 

“Pardon me, my prince?” 

“I can take you to Dragonstone and wed you there in Old Valyrian customs. You once said you saw the way I looked at Princess Rhaenyra. But it seems you’re blinder than you thought. They weren’t for her,” 

The cogs in your mind twisted and turned. 

“They were for you.” He closed in.

Your breath was caught in your throat the moment he leaned in. Daemon’s lips were harsh against your own, despite the slowness of his approach he did not hold back in kissing you. In a single moment after you reciprocated, his hand was at the back of your neck, pushing you closer and deeper into him. 

Both your eyes closed you could feel lightning striking through both your bodies, as he pulled you closer to him. Though right before your instinct pushed you to open your lips and let his tongue explore, your thoughts crashed into your mind. 

You quickly pushed away and stood up from the marble bench, your chest heaved from the lack of oxygen and the adrenaline. Daemon quickly stood up as well seeing your bewildered expression. 

“Why?” was your only question. 

Why now?

Why me?

Why the haste?

Why-

Too many questions, yet all start with the word why. 

You could see Daemon take a second to mull over his words, when he did figure out a response his hand reached towards your cheek. Lightly caressing it, a stark juxtaposition on how he had just been handling you moments before. 

“Though I debated on asking for your hand after what you had just told me. I leave for Stepstones at dawn. I intend to make you a bride before then, just as I always hoped for many moons now.” He answered truthfully. 

“You intend to fight the crab-feeder with Lord Corlys and his son?” You inquired, to which he nodded, awaiting your reaction. 

You thought to yourself for a second then a soft smile crept into your face. “Then do not make me your wife tonight, make me your friend.” You held onto his hand as you continued. “Fate and death have touched my father. I do not wish for it to touch my husband. Wed me when you win the war, that way you’ll perhaps find something to look forward to when you fight against these warriors.” 

A surprisingly warm smile befell on the Rogue Prince. He held onto your hand tighter and guided you back to sit down on the bench. An air of comfort and warmth blanketed the two of you in the cold desolate air. 

That night, the two of you spent it in those very same gardens, talking to one another. Not a single drop of wine was shared between the two of you and yet your hearts were open. Not in the way of speaking truthfully but in a way much more intimate. As if the two of you could hear what is unspoken and read what was between the lines. 

Both your minds and souls weaved together that very night. Entangling themselves into one another before the sun would rise and the spell would be broken. There was no need for a touch of passion to be shared. The company was all that mattered to the two of you.

Just as you were about to leave your room as the sun had just begun to peak from the horizon, Daemon stopped you. 

A sense of deja vu rushed towards you, the scene of the last time the two of you were in the garden alone replayed in your mind. 

This time no snide remarks were thrown, instead you turned towards him with no malice. 

His hand held onto your wrist as he spoke, “As something to remember me by.” He stated as he procured a dainty bracelet with a gorgeous red ruby in the middle, he held your wrist and clipped it on. 

“Valyrian steel, it shouldn’t tarnish nor break.” 

Speechless, you spoke only what was in your heart. “Come back to me after the war ends and you’ve had your fill of adventure.”

The two of you shared one last kiss before you turned to leave. 

~

The many months after went on as usual. Your friendship with Rhaenyra grew even stronger the moment she saw the Valyrian steel bracelet, immediately knowing it had to be from Daemon. She had been delighted to know of your and Daemon’s plans once he wins the war in the Stepstones. She yearns to have a true friend permanently within the court. Especially after Alicent’s marriage to her father. 

Unfortunately, it was also due to that event that your relationship with Alicent slowly tarnished itself. 

It seemed not only Rhaenyra realised the source of the bracelet you now wore every day. Otto Hightower was one of the many who had his suspicions. Whether you were another one of Daemon’s whores or if the rumours are true and you plan on wedding him. Otto knew you’d be a formidable opponent in his wishes for Aegon to be the king, for his blood to belong on the throne. 

So he pulls Alicent away from you, to make what he was about to do easier. 

One day a guard had called you over during one of your few alone times, seeing as Rhaenyra was with her Septa. The guard informed you that you have been called to trial under the eyes of King Viserys and the Seven. You didn’t know what was happening, but you weren’t a fool to not comply. 

Daemon’s words echoed through your head the longer the walk took from your bed chambers to the small council’s room. 

“There are snakes aiming to bite at your ankles, little hound. Keep a watchful eye.”

When you arrived at the small council meeting your worst fears were made into fruition. Inside the room was the whole small council including Alicent, which meant a good majority of them were people who didn’t like you. 

Sir Harold called your name as you kept your eyes trained in front of you. 

“You are trialled under the eye of King Viserys the first of his name, King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and under the watchful eye of the Seven. You are accused of dark witchcraft and conspiracy against the crown. How do you plead to these accusations.”

The suddenness of everything stunned you. Your brows furrowed and your eyes widened as your gaze flickered towards Alicent. She refused to look in your direction and so you immediately turned towards Otto, he was staring dead into your figure. 

“Excuse me?” you finally croaked out, “My King, I assure you I have never done witchcraft in my life and I would never plot against the crown. My father died to put me here, I would never do anything that would harm my house’s name as the last living member of it.” You practically rambled feeling panic begin to bubble up against your throat. 

There was a great silence in the room as you looked towards King Viserys. Despite being his daughter’s closest confidant, you didn’t have much interaction with the King himself, always so busy being pulled away by Otto. Realising the situation you found yourself in, you took in a deep shaky breath, swallowing the panic down as you gazed forward. 

“I plead not guilty.” You needed to regain your composure, all you had to do was convince Viserys, which shouldn’t be too hard. 

“I apologise for the formalities, I find this rather unimportant considering half of the things going on at this moment.” Viserys suddenly speaks with a sigh. “It’s clear my daughter’s lady-in-waiting is not a witch, now could we move on?” 

“I understand why you might be fooled by her, my king, but as my daughter come forth she will show you undoubtable proof.”

With a sigh, Viserys nodded towards the young Alicent’s direction. Alicent walked with bated breath towards the table without a single glance in your direction. 

Like clockwork, she placed a small doll made out of some scrap fabric roughly in the shape of a human proportion. However when she placed it down on the table the doll slightly tumbled forward and revealed its front. 

Though there was stitching in the middle of the abdomen, it’s clear that someone had ripped parts of the stitching open, revealing the inside of the doll. Sheep wool mixed with hair, human hair in the same wool’s colour was stuffed within the doll. 

This was no normal hair, it was Targaryen hair. 

This was no doll or toy, it was a poppet. 

“I had saw the increasing distance between the Princess Rhaenyra with my daughter after your marriage, my king, so I sent my daughter to reconcile with the princess. As the princess is usually seen with her lady-in-waiting, I sent Alicent to her room first. She returned to me in haste and panic, she had found a poppet under the lady’s carpet. A witch’s poppet, no doubt used to forsake you and your future male heir, my king.” 

“Lies!” You quickly yelled out, causing the entire room to look at you. “I have never seen that poppet in my life!” 

Seeing the way Viserys scrutinizes you underneath his gaze, panic bubbled up. Your eyes were blown wide you took a hurried step closer towards the council’s table. In a surprising response, the guards beside Viserys pulled out their swords. The blade aimed towards you. Your heart stopped in your chest. 

“Stay where you are, witch.” Otto stated, looking around and seeing no one on your side you took a few steps backwards, going back to your previous position. 

“Apologies for my outburst, your highness. But I can assure you, I’ve been framed. I’ve never seen a poppet in my life. I do not even know how to create one. My teachings are well documented by my septa from my homeland, if you wish to know of my good nature, ask my people. They know I would never forsake the throne.” You tried explaining yourself. 

Viserys gritted his teeth as he reached out towards the poppet. Silence enveloped the room as people awaited his response. Using his fingers, Viserys pried the front open even more, and there he pulled one of the hair strands. It was long, longer than his hair. He recognised it as Rhaenyra’s. A gasp left you at the sight of it. 

“This,” he glared at you, waving the poppet in the air, “This is blasphemy and conspiracy not only towards me but my daughter. You think I’d believe the words of a witch?” 

“My king, please! I beg of you to believe me.” Ignoring all kinds of shame you dropped to your knees, urgency clawing at you. “I have been in the Princess’ service for a very long time. I see her as my closest friend, I would never do anything to harm her. If you must doubt my character, do not doubt the maids who clean and tend to my quarters. Surely they should’ve found it had I kept a poppet of the princess this entire time?!” 

You tried reasoning with the king, even going so low as begging him. You didn’t know what to do. You knew what was happening, Otto Hightower. That reptile amongst dragons wanted to rid of you. But if you were to accuse him of treason, then your case would not stand. As it stands, Viserys trusted him more than you. 

Viserys stayed silent, as did the court. No one spoke to defend you, no one spoke to scrutinize you. Because the end was clear. The king looked at you with contempt.

“Please.” You made a final plea. 

“For your crimes, I would sentence you to an execution.” You wanted to scream but your pride wouldn’t let you. “But I appreciate and take account of the many years you have spent under the servitude of my daughter. For that, I sentence you to banishment. Leave Westeros at the first boat towards Essos. I’ll allow a single bag of your belongings to carry with you. What you do then will not be of any concern to me. Leave.”

~

What followed after came in quick succession. 

First, all your pleas and desperation dissipated. In its place was hot, flaming anger. Any and all niceties disappeared from you as you walked out of the room with a glare. 

Second, your maids were standing waiting for you in your room. Their heads bowed low as they try not to look into your eyes. They know the charges were false, they know you were framed. But they also knew they could not do anything, so you sighed silently and packed what was necessary. 

Your father had you taught all the necessary things a lady needed to know. How to sew, how to weave, how to speak, and how to enamour. But he had also taught you all the necessary things a lord needed to know. 

With no one else to lend down his knowledge, it was all for you. He taught you how to hunt, how to build a fire, how to fight, and most of all, how to survive. 

Third, you were sent off in a boat to Essos to Gods knows where. With only Alicent and Otto to watch and make sure you were truly leaving, your princess on the other side of Westeros finding suitors, and the man you love fighting in a war– you swore to yourself. 

You will survive. 

~

Daemon returned not a moon cycle after your banishment. Surprising everyone, Rhaenyra came minutes after Caraxes landed in the dragon pit. She had ended her tour early and Daemon had won the war. It was both a momentous and a frustrating day for Viserys. 

The war in the Stepstones was won and Daemon had bowed to him in front of his entire court. That very event warranted a celebration. 

Almost immediately the kitchens bustled to life, the servants prepared delicacies and parties. 

As Viserys laughed at stories from both his and his brother’s youth, Daemon could not help but let his eyes wander. He had known of Rhaenyra’s tour in search of a suitor. He had also known you had not gone with her for reasons unknown. So he had expected you to be here now to celebrate his win. 

He had planned on whisking you away in the night like that day he swore himself to you, bringing you to Dragonstone, and finally wed you, just as he promised.

Yet, you were nowhere to be found. 

When Daemon found out about your banishment, the Keep found out how irrational the Rogue Prince could be. Not a moment later, he mounted Caraxes and left King’s Landing for Essos, leaving behind an array of shouts and arguments with both his brother and the King’s hand. 

Rhaenyra didn’t take it any less lightly either. Though she could not simply fly off to a distant continent, she made sure her distaste and anger were felt across the estate. Any and all attempts of Alicent to speak to her were all brushed away harsher and colder than last time. In a bout of rebellion, the princess halted speaking with her father for a long period of time. 

But just as time continues to move on, so do people. After many soldiers and men were sent off to Essos to look for Daemon, the Rogue Prince finally returned. Muck and dirt stuck to his body like skin. From his eyes, everyone knew not to set him off. 

The prince wreaked havoc with his gold cloaks not long after. Loyal only to him, the soldiers became increasingly harsher in their punishments, all at his order.

Viserys never knew true anger as when he had thought Daemon had had his fill of violence and asked him to marry Laena Velaryon, to strengthen ties between house Velaryon and Targaryen. 

The lady was a friend of his, just as Rhaenyra is. But the anger that overtook Daemon at the mere idea of his brother banishing the woman he loved, only to send him away once more to marry someone else burned within him. 

Arguments, insults, and threats were poured upon them like wine on a wedding night. The keep did not know peace for a long time after that. 

However what did end up happening was that Laena Velaryon married another nobleman, and from her came Baela and Rhaena. Daemon would stay in Driftmark with Laena, all to cause gossip and havoc within King’s Landing and to cause even more of a headache to his brother. 

There he witnessed her husband’s untimely death due to an accident and her own during childbirth. He saw the way Laena’s body burned up in flames, leaving both Rhaena and Baela alone in the world. Just like that, he has lost another friend. 

In a single moment, he had thought about you. To the last night, he saw you. The two of you basking in the moonlight as you told him about your mother. Her untimely death. Seeing the way it tore you apart, he took it upon himself to take the two girls as wards of his family. He raised them as if they were his own. A part of him wondered what you’d think of him if he saw you. How he wished sometimes as he looked into the eyes of Baela and Rhaena after he comforted them of their mother’s death, that he was looking into the eyes of your daughters. The daughters he could imagine himself having with you. 

Would they have his platinum hair or would they have yours? Perhaps your eyes, though purple would look gorgeous. At night when he slumbers, he imagines and dreams about them. 

Children of his own with you. Be it two daughters like Laenas or three sons like Rhaenyra. He imagines them with your smile and mind, soft, comforting, but sharp and precise. From him, he hoped they’d have his tenacity, his edge for battle, his stubbornness, and perhaps his love for their mother as well. 

But when the sun rises and he wakes, they stay in his dreams. Forever missing.

Perhaps it was bitterness, perhaps it was anger, or perhaps it was something as simple as pettiness. But he knew the whole reason he pushed Rhaenyra for the war was because he urged for revenge. 

Then when that day came, the day when the Gods cried and thunder ripped through the sky, he held too many regrets as he leapt from Caraxes and plunged Dark Sister deep into his niece’s good eye. 

The battle above God’s Eye was a brutal one. 

Vhagar, a war dragon in her own right, yet slow from age, against Caraxes, the blood wyrm, the only dragon which can match Daemon’s bloodlust and anger, but always blinded by his rider’s emotions. 

Then Daemon, the Rogue Prince, fuelled by pure rage and revenge which boiled within him for years before his opponent was even born, against Aemond, the one-eyed-prince, who knows nothing but the desperate and filthy feeling of wanting to make good of his name. 

Their fight raged for what seemed like forever. 

The sky cracked and burned with lightning and rain. As Caraxes barely weaved through Vhagar’s piercing jaw, Daemon angrily yelled out. He could see no way he would win this, but he would be damned and let Alicent win. He’ll have to take down both Aemond and Vhagar, even if it costs him his life. 

Just as Aemond yells out commands to Vhagar, trying desperately to steer her, Daemon prepares his final attack. And when Vhagar’s jagged and sharp teeth finally sank their might into Caraxes’ wings, Daemon leapt. 

Aemond’s one good eye widened in fear as he struggled with the many straps that bound him to the queen of dragons. He could not get away. 

Daemon rained down on Aemond’s one good eye like the Gods’ judgement. Plunging dark sister deep into his skull, whilst Caraxes’ neck sprawled to bite Vhagar’s neck. 

The four of them fell to the raging sea like Gods. Kin killing kin, dragon killing dragon. Blood dyed the sea red that night. Daemon could only hope you would forgive him for his abandonment in the afterlife. 

Had he known that was the last night he’d ever seen you, perhaps he would’ve never gone to the Stepstones. 

So as saltwater fills his lungs and burns his eyes, he relinquishes himself to death. 

~

Deer fur has never been the softest, it’s short, stubbly, and quite harsh on the skin. But it is one of the best to bed with when winter comes. Due to this, a layer of sheep fur is always useful when placed atop of deer fur when one wants to sleep. The softness of the sheep perfectly balances the warmth of the deer.

Warmth, comfort, and the plushness of sheep fur atop deer fur greeted Daemon when he roused. 

He had thought the afterlife would be warmer and brighter. 

When he opens his eyes, the only thing he can see is a haphazardly made wooden roof, dimly lit by very few candles. One of those candles was beside him, giving off some warmth to the side of his face. 

His eyes squinted as they tried to adjust to the dim lighting. When he finds that he can’t he tries to move his limbs. Surely if he was dead then his injuries would amount to nothing. 

That assumption couldn’t have been more wrong as the moment he tried to sit up using his elbows, pain travelled through his entire body more painful than anything else he’d ever imagined. Causing him to collapse back onto the fur-lined bed. 

He groaned loudly as his senses jolted awake from the pain stabbed within him. Was the afterlife truly this ruthless that it asks him to feel his injuries though dead? 

His mind feels muddled as if a haze is crossing his eyes. His vision blurs and returns at random intervals and he feels sick. He knows he has a fever. Daemon feels the heat on his skin, despite the coolness of the air around him. 

Once more, he tries to move. This time to do a much less taxing task than the one prior. He tries to move some of the animal pelts around him, lessen the heat surrounding him. 

But when he lifts his arm to try, the door to the measly home opens with a shuddering sound. 

“Gods, you’re awake!” he hears a voice, though it rings in his head and he can barely make out the words.

Had his head not been spinning and pounding against his entire being, he would’ve looked to his left to see who it was. 

“Oh no, please stay still. Your injuries are grave and you’ve suffered so much frost.” The voice returns again albeit he still can’t make out the owner of the voice nor the words they speak. 

The figure, hazy in colour and shape runs towards him as they fix back his pelts to cover his body. He realises then that he isn’t clothed. He groans when they accidentally place very light pressure on one of his bruises. 

“I’m sorry,” they whisper, running towards a table somewhere in the room. 

When they return they hold a bowl of viscous liquid. 

“Drink it, it’ll help with the drowsiness and the pain.” They speak softly and very slowly. 

Though he doesn’t fully comprehend the words, Daemon is too far in his injuries to resist any kind of medicine. The bowl was brought onto his lips and he slowly drinks the viscous and bitter liquid. It burns his throat and tastes disgusting. He almost gags at the feeling of it running down his mouth. 

When he finishes the bowl, the figure places it aside and comes back to his bedside. 

Slowly, his ragged breathing returns to normal as his head stops its terrible spinning. The fatigue and pain of his muscles and bruises were still there but the burn of them lessened. 

When he can feel his throat and mouth again, he trusts himself to speak. 

“Who are you?” he whispers. 

The figure’s face expresses something, their mouth moves to emote but his vision is still too blurry to know what they are doing. 

“I’ll answer your questions once you’ve fully come to yourself. Rest for now, my prince.” 

They reach out to brush a strand of his hair that stuck to his sweat-lined forehead. In the corner of his eye, before he succumbs to sleep once more, he sees a silver bracelet. He does not know why he feels safe enough to sleep. But his mind wills him to and his body is too tired to care. 

~

In the days that followed, Daemon comes in and out of consciousness. Every time with blurry vision and a pounding headache. The figure aides to him as best as they can, he remembers them replacing the cold rag on his forehead every now and again. Feed him water and broth, anything liquid enough for him to drink and not have to chew. 

On the 1st full moon since his first rouse, he wakes long enough to focus on his vision. The figure wasn’t there, wherever they may be, Daemon was glad for the small moment of respite. It gave him time to think about what had happened. 

The fight above God’s Eye. Vhagar struck after Caraxes. His blade embedded itself in his niece. Then his fall. How he has survived so far was beyond him. A part of him wishes he was dead. Let the cold water fill his lungs again, let the salt burn against his eyes, let it stop his heart. Let him meet the one he loved. 

But no, it seemed the Gods had cursed him with a life longer than he neither wanted nor deserved. 

The figure didn’t come back for at least another hour, since then Daemon has found strength within himself to move his limbs lightly without much pain. His body ached from the lack of movement but that wasn’t the thing he was focused on. 

With much rest and nutritious broth, the strength in his mind had returned. With it came his clear vision. Clear enough to see the woman who walked through the haphazardly created wooden door, carrying two hares. 

Her clothes were ragged, her hair a mess, her skin muddied with dirt and God knows what else from the hunt. Her riding gear was old and tattered, barely holding onto dear life. But he’d still recognise her even if her body was covered with scars and burns. It was you. 

Daemon was confident he looked like a buck who’d just realised a quiver was pointed at it with the way he was looking at you. Eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed. His eyes focused on you as you huffed your way across this simple home of yours. 

Pulling off your shoes and discarding all your gear before grabbing a knife to skin the hares. You hadn’t realised Daemon was awake, he was far too quiet for that. It gave time for Daemon to wonder if he died during his sleep or if you were truly real. 

It wasn’t until you’d finished skinning and butchering the hare, placing the skin and organs away for something else and clearing the blood and butchered pieces away that you noticed he was awake. At first, your reaction had been shock, your eyebrows rose and your mouth went slightly agape at the intensity of Daemon’s stare. 

But then it softened, and a smile crept its way onto your face. You sighed and placed down your dirty and bloody rag, walking over towards him as his eyes followed you. Your hand, now clean, went over to push away some strands of his hair. Then his eyes caught onto the bracelet once more. 

It was you, truly you. You with the valyrian steel bracelet he gave to you so many years ago. 

In the choking intensity, Daemon whispered your name once. Like how a devoted disciple would towards his most forgiving of Gods. 

“Yes, my love?” You whispered, equally as quiet and reverent. 

Daemon choked. 

Emotions and years upon years of longing and yearning crawled their way from his heart all the way to his mind a mouth. Rendering him speechless. 

“Welcome back, my love.” You repeat, leaning down to press a soft kiss on his forehead. 

Not much was done afterwards, though Daemon’s body still pulled him to rest, he tried with all his might to stay awake. Afraid that if he closed his eyes you’d disappear. 

But with a soft voice, you coaxed him back to rest. Promising to speak to him once he heals. That was the only thing which allowed him to go back to a peaceful rest. 

~

The next time he awoke, it wasn’t a peaceful rouse. Quite the opposite. A loud shrill sound echoed through the house, it shook the windows and burst through the walls. He knew that sound. Caraxes. 

With little to no care for his own well-being, Daemon sprung upwards, since he first woke he’d been clothed. Though it was just a simple and thin shirt and pants to cover himself up but not overheat him in case of a fever. 

He winced slightly over the sudden action but the sound of Caraxes led him towards the exit. Clutching his side he lightly limped towards the door and struggled to open it. 

“Lykiri Caraxes! Lykiri! Daemon is alright, he’s healing!” 

You were in front of the blood wyrm, standing between the large dragon and your measly home. What bravery you held to stand your grown though he could tell the way you shivered you were just as terrified as many at the sight of the dragon. 

Caraxes had severe scars all throughout his body, many were closed off, but he could see some marks on his wing and leg which had been expertly dressed with soft leaves. Have you been caring for Caraxes as well?

His thoughts were cut off when Caraxes let out another shrill cry, his head lowering to be at the same level as your much smaller form. 

“Lykiri Caraxes,” though he could barely speak above his normal tone, both you and Caraxes heard him quite clearly. 

At the sight of his rider, somewhat healthy and standing, Caraxes let out another shrill cry. Though you swear this one sounded much higher pitched. All before he himself also lightly limped away and slumped to the ground not so far away from your fireplace. 

“Daemon,” you spoke before rushing towards him to support him. “You shouldn’t be walking around yet!” 

At the sudden reprimand, he laughed, “And let you be eaten by Caraxes?” 

You huffed, “He wouldn’t, I’ve been tending him for far too long.” You took a nervous glance towards the beast, “At least I hope he wouldn’t.”

“He wouldn’t.” Daemon states, leaning his head towards your own. Treasuring the feeling of your body against his. “How?” The question hangs heavy in the air. 

“Well he’s been unconscious far longer than you have so it was easy to try and patch by his wounds. My only fear was if he didn’t wake up he wouldn’t be able to eat anything, so every now and again I’d leave dead sheep around him in case he wakes up so he could immediately eat. But for the dressing, I don’t have enough cloth to bandage or do anything so I used soft leaves. It’s what I used when I first got here so I thought it’d be al-”

Though you misunderstand the question, Daemon can’t help but feel amused by your lack of hesitancy in speaking. He wouldn’t expect you to go on a tangent like you do now back when the two of you were still in King’s Landing. Years before the war. 

“I mean, how are you alive,” he questions after silence over his laughter cutting you off. 

At the question, the mood thickens. 

“Let’s talk inside.” 

You supported Daemon as he staggered inside the small house. Sitting him down lightly over the makeshift bed you’ve been able to make with cloth, feathers, and several different kinds of pelts. 

There when the two of you got comfortable you handed him a drinking bowl of warm tea as you sipped on your own. Only after the two of you finished both your tea did you start. 

You told him about your banishment, and how Alicent and Otto Hightower framed you for witchcraft and conspiring against the crown. How it was only due to your connection with Rhaenyra that you were able to miss the death sentence. Then you told him about your life in banishment. Essos hadn’t been too bad. 

Of course, it took a lot to learn new skills and put them to work. But there were a surprising amount of kind people in the area, especially the worshipers and monks. They taught you how to survive, but you couldn’t leech off of their kindness forever. 

So with what little gold you had from working odd jobs here and there, you left for a stranded area. With what survival skills you’d learn you had slowly built a home for yourself. The beach was what brought Daemon and Caraxes to you. Caraxes had been bloodied and mangled. Yet he desperately held Daemon in his claws as he dragged Daemon’s body across the sand. 

It was only when he saw you that he collapsed, leaving both the large dragon and his rider to your care. For the past month, you had been making the trip from your home to the beach to care for both Daemon and Caraxes. 

Only today did Caraxes find it in himself to wake and fly, though barely. It was when Caraxes landed on your home did Daemon woke up. 

That brought you to that very moment. 

After you finished, there was a great silence between the two of you. 

Daemon was the first to break it. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Daemon Targaryen, the Prince of Dragonstone, the Rogue Prince, the red wyrm’s rider, amongst his many titles and nicknames, seldom apologised. But with nothing else to his name or on his tongue at this very moment, he thought of the only thing he could say, an apology. 

You smiled, casting your gaze to your hands, sheepishly shying away from his intense look as you thought of how to answer him. 

“What do you have to apologise for, Daemon?”

His name fell like honey off your tongue, like a choir of songbirds, like the sweetest of fruits from Highgarden. The simple act of it threatened to bring tears to his eyes. How long he had waited for that? For you, to say his name one more time. 

He remembered the last time he’d prayed to the gods in his adulthood. It was when he first heard of your banishment. Atop of Caraxes, the beast felt Daemon’s fear and anger clutch against his heart as the red beast ripped through clouds and skies trying to look for any semblance of you. Daemon prayed then. Prayed to find you, prayed to hear you, prayed to see you. 

Anything. 

No gods heard his plead that night and so he stopped. 

But now it felt like every wish he had ever spoken had come true.

There were no words left to speak. Only actions. 

Careful and dainty actions, considering Daemon’s physical state. Your lips pressed and moulded against one another. Letting years upon years of pent-up yearning and hopes spill through a single act. 

Your heart soared, here was the man you loved, finally in your bed. No more words were spoken that night. Only sighs and soft moans of pleasure and contentment were heard throughout the lone and simple house. 

As the two of you lay in one another’s company, new hopes soared between the two of you. And Daemon promises one last thing, a promise he intends to fulfil this time. 

The promise of bringing you back home to Dragonstone once Caraxes and he can.

Why Daemon? “Once I had wondered what was holding’ up the ground // But I can see that all along, love, it was you all the way down // Leave it now, I am sky-bound // If you need to, darling, lean your weight to me // We’ll gloat away, but if we fall // I only pray, don’t fall away from me.” The song references to Icarus and Deadalus, the myth speaks about the Greek value of moderation. Icarus falls because he is so enchanted by his godly visage and his lightness that he’s enchanted by the sun and the wax melts. Hozier talks about an all encompassing feeling of falling in love that encompasses your being so much so that you’d do anything for your love. In more ways than one, both the Reader and Daemon have fallen from grace due to their love for one another. It’s the godly pull they have with each other that leads to Reader’s banishment and Daemon’s belief that she’s dead. The song inspires the last and first part of Daemon and Reader’s romance story, they lean on one another in more ways than one. Reader becomes Daemon’s friend, a true and honest friend built on mutual respect and affection. Whilst Daemon becomes Reader’s confidant, someone to go for comfort and source of joy. By the end of the story, neither thinks about the past, Daemon doesn’t care about the way the Reader has been living and Reader doesn’t care too much about why Daemon and Caraxes’ so injured. The two of them just cares for each other that nothing else matters and I think that’s so fucking sweet. 

[inkareds]

Caves are weirder and more varied than you think

[inkareds]

I actually don’t mind that “dead dove” has become conversational shorthand for “fics with heavy themes where you REALLY need to pay attention to the warnings”. such is the nature of language. what i do mind is when people tag their actual fics with dead dove and then give no indication of what they’re actually warning about. that is useless. that helps no one. that is completely against the spirit of the meme. i will not be reading that

[inkareds]

Our Little Routines Jason Todd

nav // dc m.list // ko-fi ✧.* word count: 1.2k ✧.* genre: fluff ✧.* warnings: nothing, reader does skincare/haircare

When the clock strikes at 10 pm two things start. The first is Jason and you start cleaning up the mess accumulated over the day; the second is the two of you start getting ready. 

this was so cute to write and was fully inspired by this post by @batfams-posts also I'm doing a rebrand w the colours, expect lots of changes lmao

When the clock strikes at 10 pm two things start. 

The first is Jason and you start cleaning up the mess accumulated over the day; the second is the two of you start getting ready. 

The only difference is that Jason gets ready for patrol, whilst you get ready for bed. 

There’s a comforting silence in the air as the two of you begin your little routine that you’ve found comfort in. A sense of normalcy before the seeds of worry and fear start in both your hearts. The only sound filling the apartment is the sound of clothes shuffling as the two of you change. 

You, to your comfortable pyjamas, and him, to his gear. 

Then as you move to your bathroom, Jason moves to a further room inside the apartment where he places his guns and ammo, far from the bedroom. Far from being seen by you, as he likes to tell you. He hates involving you in his line of work, even if that’s something as small as seeing the weapons he uses nightly. 

The sounds that follow afterwards are comical. From the bathroom connected to the bedroom, there’s the sound of running water as you wash your face. Not far out of the bedroom, in the living room, Jason has started checking, cleaning, and loading his guns. The machinery clicking and clacking against one another as he checks each barrel to make sure it doesn’t clog when he tries to shoot. 

You chuckle to yourself when you realise, something quiet enough that you don’t think Jason hears, though he does. 

“What are you laughing about there?” He calls with a grin, not that you could see with you now focused on the start of your skincare routine. 

“Nothing,” you smile to yourself in the mirror, knowing even if Jason couldn’t see it, he could hear it. 

In response, Jason puts down his gun and stands up from where he was sitting on the couch. You see him making his way over towards you from the bathroom mirror as you’re patting your skin. You smile at him from the mirror without looking back as he snakes his way into the bathroom and grasps your body for a hug from behind. 

He was fully armoured the same way as you were fully comfortable in your soft pyjamas. 

Once again, the juxtaposition causes you to chuckle. 

“There you go again,” he affectionately rolls his eyes, “Might need you to go to Arkham seeing as you’re going crazy, laughing at nothing and all.” He leans down to press a kiss on the top of your head. 

You shake your head and lightly nudge his stomach as you reach towards your moisturiser.

“I’m just thinking about how funny we look,” you state before your brows quirked at the feeling of your moisturiser container, “Have you been using this?” 

Your gaze returns back to Jason’s on the mirror, raising the moisturiser container to his guilty expression. 

“Nope.” He makes no effort to conceal his guilty smile. 

“Sure, and that’s why there’s only half left when I bought this last month.” You affectionately state before putting back the container and rubbing the product on your face. 

Jason watches your hands move around your face with expertise and smoothness. He remembers when he puts on your moisturiser there’s a sense of awkwardness to him. Sure, it does feel good, self-care and all that, but there’s a sense of awkwardness. As if his hands weren’t used to doing something so delicate that’s directed at him. 

But your fingers work the product easily into your skin, administering just the right amount to properly moisturise the skin without causing an uncomfortable cast atop it. When he realises you’ve finished he leans to smother his face in your neck before muttering. 

“I’ll buy you a new one when you run out.” Before letting you go to continue your routine.

You giggle and hum in appreciation, then reach to ruffle Jason’s hair, relishing in the cleanliness of it before he puts on the helmet and sweats through the night. Speaking of hair, the night was coming to the time when the two of you would have to deal with it. Jason stares at you for a little bit longer as you reach to get your hair oil, grinning to himself at how lucky he is for being able to be with someone like you. All before turning around and leaving the bathroom, of course not without slapping your ass. 

“Jason!” You yell out with no malice whatsoever, in response a loud laughter echoes through the apartment from him. 

When you start oiling and moisturising your hair, Jason is back in the living room looking through his helmet, making sure his communication line with Oracle is secure and nothing is awry with the helmet. When start styling your hair into a comfortable style for bed, he puts on his domino mask, and when you finally tie your hair, his red helmet is secured on his head. 

You make your way towards your bedroom, as he does. Though you reach for the bed and he reaches for the window. 

When you snuggle into the comfortable blankets and pillows, reaching towards your laptop for some entertainment before bed, he’s tightening his jacket around his body to ready for the cold night, and reaching towards the now opened window. 

But right before he leaves, you stare at him, a smile on your lips, one that brings out so much emotion and love through it. As much as you can muster, just in case that was the last time he’d see it. One that you give to him every night, no matter if the two of you just had a fight or not, it didn’t matter. You wanted him to see you smiling and full of love for him right before his patrol, just in case. 

And he can’t take it, can’t take how amazing you look, comfortable snuggled into your shared bed, body completely moisturised and smelling of your favourite lotion, hair done up ready to look incredible in the morning. He just had to quickly take off his helmet and reach towards you. You respond in equal longing. 

Reaching over towards him as your lips encase one another, bringing your hands around the back of his neck, pulling his body close to yours. Though he’s careful not to collapse onto the bed, for a plethora of reasons. The first is that if he does he doesn’t think he’d have it in him to leave for the night and the second is how dirty his patrol clothes actually are. 

When the two of you pull away, your hands lightly play with the hairs at the back of his neck as you both look at each other with so much love and adoration in your eyes. You were the first to break the silence. 

“Come back home safe to me, Jay.” 

And he answers with a smile.  

“Always.” 

And then he jumps into the night, letting the light of the moon and city stars cover him. As you jump back into the bed, letting the bed and silence cover you.

As always, if you like my work, do consider tipping me on Ko-Fi!

This was so fun to write! Also as I said in the beginning, I am doing a small rework of my blog cause currently I'm just not vibing with the brown/light academia cafe aesthetic. I won't be doing it all at once (as I'm slightly busy rn) but small things will change here and there! But I am trying to get out of my writing slump.

[inkareds]

FYI I KNOW ITS LIKE A YEAR OLD BUT I AM STILL WRITING THIS LMAO I JUST HAD AN EXTREME LOSS OF MOTIVATION TO WRITE CAUSE I'M VERY BUSY AHAHAHAHA BUT I THINK I'M GOING TO GET BACK ON TRACK SOON

✧. october horror event ✧. " red ink's 2023 October au event "

requests for characters open // navigation // ko-fi

Welcome to my first October x Reader event! I debated on doing Kinktober since I was starting to get used to writing smut, but because there's like 0 smut in this blog I decided against it. So here it is! My AU event, part of this is heavily inspired by @valeskafics 's myriad of AU's mostly following HOTD characters.

Most, if not all, of these are going to be AUs and not all are going to be open for requests. The ones that say, "open to order," means the prompt is open for requested characters! Only one character per prompt from my character list so choose wisely.

1 | Corpse Bride - Wally West Sold out !

3 | The Phantom of The Opera - Aemond Targaryen and Jacaerys Velaryon When your opera company makes its way to King's Landing, you never expect to find the man who taught you how to sing when the two of you were younger Aemond Targaryen and your childhood friend Jacaerys Velaryon. A drama-filled confusion ensues as you have to choose between your kind-hearted friend or the alluring man who knows more than one secret passage within King's Landing's esteemed opera house.

7 | Halloween - Rhaenyra Targaryen (NSFW) Sold out !

13 | Frankenstein (the book) - Jason Todd As a member of the League of Assassins, you never would've thought you'd find yourself watching Talia Al' Ghul resurrect your former childhood best friend before your eyes. You also never would've thought you'd be trying to kickstart his mind with electricity after Jason goes insane from a dip in the pit.

15 | Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde Open for order

17 | Ready or Not - Aegon Targaryen When you married into the wealthy Targaryen family, you knew you were bound to find some weird eccentric traditions all rich families seem to have. What you didn't expect was to take part in a gruesome version of a children's game, showing you to just how much your newly wedded husband loves you.

19 | Dracula (the book) - Dick Grayson Sold out !

25 | Edward Scissorhands - Roy Harper Sold out !

29 | The Addams Family - Bruce Wayne You didn't think Bruce would be open to a couple's costume, especially when that couple's costume is a costume from a movie the media love to find similarities with his family. But you're pleasantly surprised when not only he was up to it, but the entire family.

31 | Black Swan - Helaena Tagaryen Sold out !

Rules: - For each character requested you can tell me a short description on what you'd like or if there's something you absolutely don't want: for example: "Day 3 Aemond Targaryen but nothing NSFW." - Without it I'll still write your character so don't worry about thinking of a plot! - My normal rules still apply

Comment if you'd like to be part of the taglist!

[inkareds]

No judgement whatsoever it's a genuine question.

If it's a series or the author says it would be or it's implied there's a giant potential for the work to have a part 2 i.e when it ends in a big cliffhanger or sumth like that. How could readers ask authors to add them to the tag list? I've commented a few times on series posts on wanting to be added to the taglist without meaning to put pressure on authors to continue/write more. Mainly because I've had people do that in my blog too and I don't mind it.

I'm just wondering what I could say or if I shouldn't say it at all? Like saying, "Can I be added to the taglist?" Or, "Could you please tag me in the next part/if there are next parts?" I don't want to be rude / seem ungrateful towards my favourite authors, so I just want to make sure. And if it does come off that way.

(Also to any authors that I've commented to and have accidentally made felt pressured due to it I sincerely apologise. It really wasn't my intention)

I had previously thought commenting something like that (not the rude ones that beg for more parts) showed support and showed what the audience wanted bcs that's how I always took it when it came to my blog. Is it rude to do so? (Asking to be tagged btw not asking for more parts, I understand how that part could be taken as rude esp w how some people phrase it)

"update when—"

"please tag me in the next—"

"omg! fic when—"

"please don't tell me that was it—"

"please please more—"

"part 3 when—"

"when's the next part—"

[inkareds]

Just a reminder for people cause I haven't seen many peope posting about it:

If you can, please braid your hair today in honor of Cole Brings Plenty. Cole was a Lakota actor who was found murdered with his hair cut. Rising Hearts has asked that everyone, indigenous or not, wear braids to honor him and remember those that have suffered the same.

If you can't braid your hair, then share posts of others!

Now is also a good time to share some support to indigenous charities, if you're able

https://www.risinghearts.org/

https://landback.org/

https://mmiwusa.org/

https://narf.org/

https://ndncollective.org/

https://www.niwrc.org/

[inkareds]

So a free tool called GLAZE has been developed that allows artists to cloak their artwork so it can't be mimicked by AI art tools.

AI art bros are big mad about it.

[inkareds]

Our Little Routines Jason Todd

nav // dc m.list // ko-fi ✧.* word count: 1.2k ✧.* genre: fluff ✧.* warnings: nothing, reader does skincare/haircare

When the clock strikes at 10 pm two things start. The first is Jason and you start cleaning up the mess accumulated over the day; the second is the two of you start getting ready. 

this was so cute to write and was fully inspired by this post by @batfams-posts also I'm doing a rebrand w the colours, expect lots of changes lmao

When the clock strikes at 10 pm two things start. 

The first is Jason and you start cleaning up the mess accumulated over the day; the second is the two of you start getting ready. 

The only difference is that Jason gets ready for patrol, whilst you get ready for bed. 

There’s a comforting silence in the air as the two of you begin your little routine that you’ve found comfort in. A sense of normalcy before the seeds of worry and fear start in both your hearts. The only sound filling the apartment is the sound of clothes shuffling as the two of you change. 

You, to your comfortable pyjamas, and him, to his gear. 

Then as you move to your bathroom, Jason moves to a further room inside the apartment where he places his guns and ammo, far from the bedroom. Far from being seen by you, as he likes to tell you. He hates involving you in his line of work, even if that’s something as small as seeing the weapons he uses nightly. 

The sounds that follow afterwards are comical. From the bathroom connected to the bedroom, there’s the sound of running water as you wash your face. Not far out of the bedroom, in the living room, Jason has started checking, cleaning, and loading his guns. The machinery clicking and clacking against one another as he checks each barrel to make sure it doesn’t clog when he tries to shoot. 

You chuckle to yourself when you realise, something quiet enough that you don’t think Jason hears, though he does. 

“What are you laughing about there?” He calls with a grin, not that you could see with you now focused on the start of your skincare routine. 

“Nothing,” you smile to yourself in the mirror, knowing even if Jason couldn’t see it, he could hear it. 

In response, Jason puts down his gun and stands up from where he was sitting on the couch. You see him making his way over towards you from the bathroom mirror as you’re patting your skin. You smile at him from the mirror without looking back as he snakes his way into the bathroom and grasps your body for a hug from behind. 

He was fully armoured the same way as you were fully comfortable in your soft pyjamas. 

Once again, the juxtaposition causes you to chuckle. 

“There you go again,” he affectionately rolls his eyes, “Might need you to go to Arkham seeing as you’re going crazy, laughing at nothing and all.” He leans down to press a kiss on the top of your head. 

You shake your head and lightly nudge his stomach as you reach towards your moisturiser.

“I’m just thinking about how funny we look,” you state before your brows quirked at the feeling of your moisturiser container, “Have you been using this?” 

Your gaze returns back to Jason’s on the mirror, raising the moisturiser container to his guilty expression. 

“Nope.” He makes no effort to conceal his guilty smile. 

“Sure, and that’s why there’s only half left when I bought this last month.” You affectionately state before putting back the container and rubbing the product on your face. 

Jason watches your hands move around your face with expertise and smoothness. He remembers when he puts on your moisturiser there’s a sense of awkwardness to him. Sure, it does feel good, self-care and all that, but there’s a sense of awkwardness. As if his hands weren’t used to doing something so delicate that’s directed at him. 

But your fingers work the product easily into your skin, administering just the right amount to properly moisturise the skin without causing an uncomfortable cast atop it. When he realises you’ve finished he leans to smother his face in your neck before muttering. 

“I’ll buy you a new one when you run out.” Before letting you go to continue your routine.

You giggle and hum in appreciation, then reach to ruffle Jason’s hair, relishing in the cleanliness of it before he puts on the helmet and sweats through the night. Speaking of hair, the night was coming to the time when the two of you would have to deal with it. Jason stares at you for a little bit longer as you reach to get your hair oil, grinning to himself at how lucky he is for being able to be with someone like you. All before turning around and leaving the bathroom, of course not without slapping your ass. 

“Jason!” You yell out with no malice whatsoever, in response a loud laughter echoes through the apartment from him. 

When you start oiling and moisturising your hair, Jason is back in the living room looking through his helmet, making sure his communication line with Oracle is secure and nothing is awry with the helmet. When start styling your hair into a comfortable style for bed, he puts on his domino mask, and when you finally tie your hair, his red helmet is secured on his head. 

You make your way towards your bedroom, as he does. Though you reach for the bed and he reaches for the window. 

When you snuggle into the comfortable blankets and pillows, reaching towards your laptop for some entertainment before bed, he’s tightening his jacket around his body to ready for the cold night, and reaching towards the now opened window. 

But right before he leaves, you stare at him, a smile on your lips, one that brings out so much emotion and love through it. As much as you can muster, just in case that was the last time he’d see it. One that you give to him every night, no matter if the two of you just had a fight or not, it didn’t matter. You wanted him to see you smiling and full of love for him right before his patrol, just in case. 

And he can’t take it, can’t take how amazing you look, comfortable snuggled into your shared bed, body completely moisturised and smelling of your favourite lotion, hair done up ready to look incredible in the morning. He just had to quickly take off his helmet and reach towards you. You respond in equal longing. 

Reaching over towards him as your lips encase one another, bringing your hands around the back of his neck, pulling his body close to yours. Though he’s careful not to collapse onto the bed, for a plethora of reasons. The first is that if he does he doesn’t think he’d have it in him to leave for the night and the second is how dirty his patrol clothes actually are. 

When the two of you pull away, your hands lightly play with the hairs at the back of his neck as you both look at each other with so much love and adoration in your eyes. You were the first to break the silence. 

“Come back home safe to me, Jay.” 

And he answers with a smile.  

“Always.” 

And then he jumps into the night, letting the light of the moon and city stars cover him. As you jump back into the bed, letting the bed and silence cover you.

As always, if you like my work, do consider tipping me on Ko-Fi!

This was so fun to write! Also as I said in the beginning, I am doing a small rework of my blog cause currently I'm just not vibing with the brown/light academia cafe aesthetic. I won't be doing it all at once (as I'm slightly busy rn) but small things will change here and there! But I am trying to get out of my writing slump.

[inkareds]

"No one can love you until you love yourself" is like the worst possible way of articulating "if you don't respect and value yourself, it's very easy to become attracted to people who don't treat you right and then justify their mistreatment, so be careful."

[inkareds]

[inkareds]

On this Valentine’s Day please don’t forget about the Palestinian people. Candy is being bought in droves while innocent people are starving. While people are planning romantic dinners for their lovers, Palestinian people are losing their lovers to bombs and snipers. There is no rest for the Palestinian people today. Don’t let them mask what’s really happening behind pink ribbon. Fight for love, find empowerment in your love for others. We will not stop fighting, not for a single day. Palestine will be free.

[inkareds]

Shoutout to all my single folks on Valentine’s! Shoutout to the folks who don’t want a relationship, the aromantic folks, the people who have recently been through a breakup, the people whose crushes weren’t requited, the people who want a relationship but can’t find anyone they click with. You aren’t incomplete for not having a romantic partner - you’re a whole, wonderful, incredible human being by yourself, and your worth isn’t based on your relationship status! 

[inkareds]

Bagian akhir post ini sangat SANGAT penting

Sebentar lagi pemilu, sebentar lagi PASTI ada discourse banyak-banyak seperti tahun lalu.

Tolong tolong tolong bijak memilih dan siapapun yang menang dan jadi presiden tolonglah terima hasilnya.

(Aka gw tkt pemilu 🤪)

this february 19th, Indonesia will support South Africa’s case regarding “israel’s” genocide against Palestinians by delivering an oral statement to support the advisory opinion mechanism (AO) of the ICJ (click). though we are not a signatory to the Genocide Convention yet (for many reasons, none of which are justifiable), there is hope that this speech can be the first step to genuine global south solidarity.

Indonesia has a long history when it comes to gross violations of human rights. from the mass killings of members of the communist party in ‘65-‘65 and the East Timor genocide in the ‘75 (click), to current day West Papua and how it came to be part of the republic (click), it’s very much apparent why Indonesia is hesitant to become a party to the Genocide Convention, and the government has no one to blame but itself.

this, i say not from a place of idealistic naïveté, but from a place of hope: amongst our own issues, this is one decision that stays true to our constitution—that independence is truly the right of all nations and therefore colonization in the world shall be abolished. it’s this, then everything after. it’s this, done one by one. i’m hopeful for 2024 and i’m hopeful for the next decade. i’m hopeful for change and for justice.

with that in mind, if i have any Indonesian readers, please do your due diligence for elections this february. read on our candidates and their histories (click) and choose wisely. bijak-bijaklah memilih.

[inkareds]

Take a good look at the countries leading/have started the legal battles to hold the IOF accountable -their fights to end IOF terrorism and war crimes, as this should have been done months ago, are now beginning.

So many Palestinian people have been genocided, and the rampant global government inaction has caused chaos, death, and destruction of Gaza... I just hope this leads to a permanent ceasefire and an end to the occupation. I truly do.