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imagineandimagine · 2 years

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Playing Pretend

Pairing: Daemon x Reader

Warning: 18+ Sexy content/ I am a huge tease and I’m not even sorry.

Summary: Daemon is frustrated because he wants you but you remain unimpressed to his advances.

You were the royal seamstress but you were mainly known for your quick wit and charm. That is why you were always invited to any balls or important celebrations because you always brought an air of class to any party.

What drove Daemon mad was the fact that no matter how much he tried he could not have you. You remained unimpressed by his flattery and by his lavish presents that he had delivered to your chambers.

During a wedding of one of his cousins he tried to make you jealous by kissing a girl right in front of you but you remained indifferent, turning your back to him. He had never felt such embarrassment before. He shoved the girl away and stormed out of the ballroom, slamming the heavy doors behind him.

Frustrated, he marched into his room and threw the first fragile thing he saw on his nightstand against a wall. He paced back and forth around his room when he heard a crash outside his window. At that moment everything irritated him. “Keep it down or I’ll have your head on a spike!” he screamed out the window.

Two men carrying the wedding portrait looked up, “Apologies my lord!”

That is when Daemon had an idea, “Stop! Where are you taking that painting?”

The painting was hung in one of the main hallways of the castle, Daemon remembered how 30 artists were working on it simultaneously, cursing and bumping into each other as they tried to capture the likeness of everyone that was present at the wedding. Daemon frowned when he saw the way he was portrayed in the painting; he took out a knife and with one swift motion made a huge gash across the canvas. He walked a few steps further -sliiiice- another cut and another and another, when he finally stopped at your painted silhouette. He smiled devilishly and started to slowly cut your image out with great care.

When Daemon got to his room with his prize, he hung your cut out portrait up across from his bed. “This will have to do. For now…” he said to himself as he walked backwards to his bed still looking at your image. He got comfortable on his bed, undid his pants and he stared to touch himself while staring at your painted eyes, your curves, relishing in every slither of naked skin that was visible. He let out a small gasp as precum coated his fingers, he stroked himself as he imagined you catching him like this and looking at him as he pleasured himself, after a while you would undo your own dress as you would join him on the bed. You would be ready for him to possess you, you’d confess how much you wanted him and how he was the only man that could satisfy you. Daemon let out a satisfied grunt as he imagined this, he was getting close when for some reason he started to feel ashamed again. How you would laugh at him if you only knew what he had done and how pitiful he was at that moment. He cursed under his breath in frustration. He was a warrior, a conqueror, he should be king and yet you treated him like any other sleazy suitor trying to court you. There was no way he could finish like this.

He covered himself and called for one of the guards. Daemon threw a coin at the man and told him to bring him a lady of the night and if the guard did it quickly and discreetly he would get another coin.

A few minutes later a girl had arrived, bowing deeply. Daemon closed the door behind her as he looked her over. “Not even close…” he sneered.

“My lord?” the girl asked confused.

“No matter. Put this on.” Daemon said giving the girl a dress that he “borrowed” when he snuck into your chambers that one time.

The girl quickly threw on the dress knowing that she probably would’t be wearing it for too long so she didn’t even bother doing the corset properly. She emerged from behind the bamboo screen and she curtsied “Is this to your satisfaction my lord?”

Daemon was already on the bed with his cock out trying to get himself ready, the moment she came into view he grimaced and gave out an exasperated sigh. He looked around the room when he noticed a doily on his bedside table, he grabbed it and threw it to the girl. “Put this over your face.”

The girl looked confused, “My lord…?”

“Do it.” Daemon said annoyed.

The girl put the doily over her face, pinned the rest into her hair so it wouldn’t fall off and got onto the bed.

“Don’t block my view,” Daemon said gesturing towards the painting.

The girl turned around and through the holes in the doily she recognized you in the picture, “That’s -“

“Shh!” he shushed her.

The girl obeyed, she was there to do a job, no matter how weird. She started to massage his inner thighs first, Daemon swallowed hard and nodded in approval, her skilled fingered started to play along his thick shaft, stroking and teasing his tip with her thumb. Daemon’s eyes remained fixed on what lay behind her as he groaned with satisfaction. She took this opportunity to position herself over his shaft and she carefully sunk onto his full length making him moan encouragingly. She started to ride him slowly; Daemon stared at the portrait as he imagined that you were the one riding him, your tits bouncing in his face as you called out his name, his cock pulsed at the thought, “Such a good girl… so obedient… I knew you would finally give in.” he cooed.

The girl felt like she should respond to these sweet words, ”Does this feel good my-“

Daemon was annoyed again, this praise wasn’t for this girl “Do not speak!” he hissed.

The girl realized what was happening so she was determined to remain quiet from that point on, only letting out the occasional sound of contentment as she could feel her own pleasure building.

“Y/N…” Daemon moaned your name as he thrust his hips, reaching a rhythm that he liked.

He tried to concentrate, staring into your eyes but even your painted image seemed to be mocking him. The girl moaned. Daemon clenched his teeth, what a pathetic substitute for the real thing, the thought of cumming like this was unbearably humiliating, “Get off! Get off!” he screamed pushing the girl off him.

The startled girl lost her balance, in her desperation she grabbed onto the sheets but it did not help as she fell to the floor and landed on her butt with a dull thud.

Daemon covered his face with his hand and hunched over “Just… get out and leave the dress.”

The girl shrugged off the dress and she tried to gather her own clothes quickly as she started moving towards the door.

“Wait.” he said as he took out a small coin purse out of his drawer and threw it at the girl “Not a word about this to anyone.”

The girl nodded sheepishly and gave Daemon a halfhearted curtsy before she scurried out the door.

It was a sleepless night; the shame of what he had done tortured him as he tossed and turned. The next morning he walked to the dining hall with a splitting headache accompanying him.

As he looked around the room trying to decide where to sit Daemon’s eyes met with yours and to his surprise you blushed a deep red before you passed him without a word.

He had never seen you react to him like this, he looked around the room and something seemed to be off, he would often be the center of attention but not like this. People seemed to talk in hushed voices the moment he entered and they appeared to be smiling, stealing glimpses of him and that’s when he realized…everyone knew.

Author’s note: An alternative title to this fic was “Picture this…”

#Daemon Targaryen #daemon #game of thrones #house of the dragon #daemon x reader #lemon

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meduzza13 · 2 years

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Art Masterlist

Bullet Train:

Tan BW

Tangerine in blue

Tangerine

Call

I'm a wanted man

Tan

Twins

Watercolor Tangerine

BW Tangerine

Lemon

Blue Tangerine

St. Valentine post

White Death Vronsky Marvel:

Wanda

Loki glorious purpose

Loki God of Stories

Wanda and Pietro

Loki in S.H.I.E.L.D

Scarlet Witch2

Pietro

Khonschu

Moon Knight

Scarlet Witch

Captain America

Gamora

Loki - The Avengers

Loki the Avengers2

Very very old Loki's portraits Black Sails

Black Sails 10th Anniversary

Fire!

Everyone is a monster

What the targett Captain?

To the Urca's gold

Captain

Sea Devil

Flint season 3

We might be a friends

Before the battle

Flint

Silver with a parott

Flint BW

Flint season 2

Silver

Flint2

CaptainFlint

Graphite Flint

Flint House of the Dragon

Daemyra

Dragon Qeen

Black Qeen

Rhaenyra

Dragons love

Daemon

Fire and Blood

Black Qeen Supernatural

Dean

Cain

Abaddon

Asmodeus

#bullet train #black sails fanart #black sails #captain flint #tangerine and lemon #marvel #house of the dragon #daemon targeryen #rhaenyra targaryen #aaron taylor johnson #loki fanart

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heart-sized · 1 year

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BYF !

୨୧ pls be nice if you're here on my page! and kind. this is the first and most important rule !

୨୧ i may write nsfw content too so pls pls if you're -18 then dni

୨୧ i don't write : incest, pedophilia, nonconsensual relationships, watersports, vomit, gore, necrophilia

୨୧ i might write : aged up characters, dub con

୨୧ racism, transphobia, homophobia, islamophobia is not tolerated on my page.

୨୧ i like fluff as much as i like angst so like pls don't hate me

୨୧ i am a sort of slow writer because studies and writers’ block keep me up

୨୧ if we have similar interests and +18, then i would love to be friends too!

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aemondsbabe · 9 months

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Ñuha Zaldrīzes

summary: future & facesitting || discussing wishes for your baby with your husband turns into something more

pairing: daemon targaryen x f!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, pregnant reader, oral sex (f receiving), allusions to piv sex, dirty talk, daemon being soft and loving we love to see it, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 1.8k

a/n: happy day eight of 12 days of smuff!!! surely this counts as future otherwise i'd have them fucking in a spaceship & that just didn't sit right with me

12 days of smuff masterlist!

gif creds to @pedropcl

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

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

A soft giggle bursts from your lips as Daemon’s hand skirts over your large belly yet again, his soft touches tickling your skin as his hand ghosts lovingly over your bump, the delicate lacy fabric of your nightgown bunched around his wrist.

“Okay, okay, so,” you say breathily, finally calming down as his touch seems to settle on your hip, “If it’s a little girl, perhaps Vaenera? And for a little boy… Vaenor?” You suggest, your breath warm against the prince’s neck as you rest your cheek against his shoulder, tucked safely into his side atop your silk covered bed.

“I still think we should name her Visenya,” the blond drawls, tracing soothing patterns into your hip as he holds you against him, “With a nice strong name like that, she will grow to greatness.”

You stay silent for a moment, your eyes locked onto the fluid movements of the sheer curtains that lead out onto the balcony, watching as they blow in the breeze carried in by the Narrow Sea. Daemon can’t help but notice you still against him and he smiles softly when he sees that familiar, far off look in your eyes – always his dreamer.

“Where did you go?” He asks gently, all traces of the usual brash, cocky tone with which he speaks gone.

“Nowhere,” you smile, tilting your head up to peer at him through your lashes, “I was merely thinking of what kind of person this little one will grow up to be.” You stroke a hand over your belly as you speak, your smile only growing as you feel a soft, barely there kick against your palm.

“If they’re even half as kind and gentle as their mother, the world will be a much better place with them in it,” your husband whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. A pink blush blooms across the apples of your cheeks, as it always does when he speaks so tenderly.

“And if they’re half as hard headed as their father, well… somehow, I will love them all the more,” you whisper, laughing yet again as Daemon trails his fingers over your side, tickling you purposefully this time.

“Me, hard headed?” He teases, laughing along with you, “I’m not the one that nearly sent the kitchens into a tailspin this evening when they demanded duck, now am I?” His violet eyes sparkled in the low light of the candles that flickered around the room, a teasing smirk etched across his face.

“That’s very unfair!” You giggle, leaning up to properly look at him. “You know how I am when I’m with child,” you huff, your blush only deepening when you see his eyes darken just slightly as his gaze flits over you, “Especially once it’s this far along; all I want is roast duck and–”

“And lemon cakes at every meal,” Daemon finishes for you, softly smiling, “Yes, sweetling, the entire castle is most aware.” He chuckles.

“Then the kitchens should know to have duck, that’s all I’m saying…” You grumble, sinking back down into his embrace. The two of you relax into a comfortable silence for many minutes, your husband’s breathing so steady and calm that you assume he’s fallen asleep. When he speaks again, his soft voice almost startles you.

“The kitchens did particularly well with the lemon cakes this evening…”

Your eyebrows furrow together at the statement and you lift your head again, meaning to give him a confused stare. The cakes were exceptionally good this evening, but you can’t help but notice the teasing lilt in his voice.

You open your mouth to speak, but the darkness in Daemon’s eyes gives you pause, a breathy, barely audible whimper escaping your lips before you have a chance to stop it.

“However, I can’t help but be in the mood for a much different type of dessert, little wife.” He says lowly, gently pulling you up until your faces are level, careful to be ever conscious of your growing stomach.

“Daemon –” You start, only to be cut off with a searing kiss as he presses his lips to yours. You whimper against his lips, your head already spinning in his embrace as his tongue toys with yours.

“It’s been so long,” he starts, trailing kisses down your jaw and neck, nibbling at one spot that always has you seeing stars, “Since you’ve let me have what I want.”

“H-Husband,” you gasp breathlessly, your nails digging helplessly into his chest as you cling to him, “You had me just this, Gods, this morning for breakfast, if you’ll recall.” You managed to say between whimpers and gasps as he practically feasted on the sensitive spot on your neck, his hands softly kneading and caressing your breasts.

He makes a small, displeased hum before he pulls back to look at you, his dark eyes studying you carefully before a small smirk grows on his lips, “You know very well that’s not what I’m after.”

Your eyes widen just slightly as you finally catch his meaning; you shake your head with a small chuckle. “Surely you can’t be serious,” your smile fades as he holds your stare with a small, unchanging smirk, “Daemon, I’ll crush you!”

“And what an honorable death that would be, sweet wife,” he chuckles, his hands firmly grasping your hips as he lifts you up and onto his lap, your head spins as you feel his already hard length pressing against you through the thin linen breeches he has on, “I’ll be fine, it’s not as if this is exactly new territory for us…” He teases, gently skirting his hands over your belly.

“We’ve never done it when I’ve been… like this, though,” you shyly point out, looking down at your bump.

“Do you really not see how insatiable I become every time you’re with child?” Daemon asks, his voice soft and gentle, “I will only ever have you like this a scant few times. Please, sweetling, let me savor it.”

Biting your lip, you gaze down at him, eyes trailing across his bare chest and shoulders and up the strong column of his neck before they finally settle on his face – the look in his eyes nearly making you gasp. His violet eyes are fixed on you, roaming over your body with so much love and adoration that you feel as if you may melt from it.

Before you even register the movement, you’re nodding.

Daemon’s eyes instantly flick up to yours, sparkling with victory. His hands grip your hips again, gently guiding you up his muscular form as he silently thanks the Seven that you wear nothing beneath your Myrish lace nightgowns. A loud groan practically bursts from the prince’s chest once you’re positioned over his face; he loves being surrounded by you — loves the way your soft thighs bracket his head, the way you position your dripping center perfectly over his mouth, and the way the only thing he sees when he looks up is your belly, swollen with his seed, his child.

If it were up to Daemon, he would happily spend the rest of his days here.

Your chest heaves as you grip the headboard of the bed, your heart hammering in your chest from the anticipation of it. You whimper softly as his hands, rough from so many years of sword fighting and dragon riding, grab at your thighs and hips.

He presses soft, sweet kisses to the inside of your thighs before licking a slow, steady line up your center; you can feel him smirk triumphantly against you as moans and whimpers spill from your lips.

“Oh, Gods, Daemon!” You gasp, voice already ragged as you white-knuckle the headboard. Your thighs tremble with the effort of holding yourself even a fraction of an inch above your husband’s face, something he notices quite quickly. A displeased growl rumbles from his chest, making you pant as it vibrates against your core.

“Fucking sit,” Daemon rasps, tugging you against his mouth, his tongue roughly spearing into you as he grinds your pearl against his nose, hands moving your hips against his face.

Your mind all but whites out as he rocks you against him, nose and tongue working in perfect tandem to send shivers down your spine. Your eyes squeeze shut, frantic moans pouring from your mouth as a fire steadily builds within you.

“H-Husband,” you pant, walls clenching tightly around his tongue as he groans into your heat, “I— Fuck, I’m—!” You can hardly get the words out as Daemon seals his lips around your sensitive bud, suckling it at a maddening pace as his hands move down to cup your ass, kneading it roughly.

Your face flushes at the slick sounds pouring from between your thighs as the prince growls against you, sounding as if he’s gaining as much satisfaction as you are. Your core clenches at the thought, pleasure threatening to consume you.

“Daemon!” You cry urgently, shaking above him, a thin sheen of sweat covering your body. You want so badly to thread your fingers through his hair as you normally would, but you can’t even see his face around your protruding belly.

He groans loudly beneath you once more and fucks his tongue back into you, causing the knot in your belly to pull tightly before finally unraveling. Sparks burst behind your eyelids, your back arching as your whole body tenses and relaxes in time with his movements.

The prince moans appreciatively, messily drinking down your pleasure as you peak on top of him. You jump when one of his hands smacks against your ass, the tingling sting extending your release, the intensity of it nearly making you go mad.

Finally, once your signs of relief have turned into whimpers of overstimulation, Daemon releases you with a pleased hum, helping you shuffle back down his body until you’re straddling his hips once again.

You laugh softly at the sight of him — his cheeks flushed a light pink, hair sticking up at odd angles, and a pleased, self-satisfied grin on his face.

“You look as if you were the one who was ravished, my dragon,” you tease, your heart rate slowly returning to normal as you trace over the muscular dips in his chest and stomach.

The prince chuckles lowly, his violet eyes still dark with lust as he takes in your curves. “Ravishing you is a pleasure in and of itself, sweet wife,” he drawls, smirking as you gasp at the feel of his cock against your sensitive core as he rolls his hips against you, “I trust you’ll allow me to feel it again?” He asks, that all too familiar cocky tone back, as if asking is merely a formality.

Sighing happily, you bite your lip as you stare down at him, the knot in your belly beginning to tighten again as you feel his length pressing hotly to you.

“I believe that can be arranged.”

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @alerisc @fan-goddess @wickedfrsgrl @moonriseoverkyoto @echos-muses @schniiipsel @avidreader73 @marvelescvpe @imawhorecrux

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flowerandblood · 4 days

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The Price of Pride (14/?)

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: kind of fingering, targcest stuff, smut, the angst, sexual tension, imprisonment, abuse of power ]

[ description: Prince Aemond finds a solution to the disproportion in the number of dragons between Dragonstone and King's Landing: he decides to find dragon blood and, like his half-sister, train dragon riders. He takes as his target the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, whom he abducts and imprisons in the Red Keep. Slow burn, darkish, insolent, arrogant Aemond. I have combined several requests here: (dragon blood female & prisoner female). ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

"Tell him the truth. Lying to my grandfather serves no purpose anyway. He's a skilled player. You have to win his trust." Said her betrothed, walking around her chamber with his hands folded behind his back as if it was simple, while she sat on her bed, looking at him in horror.

Lord Hightower had many reasons to doubt her loyalty, starting with her treacherous bloodline to the fact that, in all probability, Gwayne had convinced him that she had forced her way into his grandson's heart through his bed like a simple whore.

She lowered her gaze, fiddling with her fingers in nervous reflex – her lēkia approached her and knelt before her on one knee, taking her hands in his, slightly rough from holding the hilt of his sword.

"My grandfather is loyal to our family. I trust him. Do it, zaldrītsos."

Otto waited for her in the royal gardens in complete solitude, under one of the beautiful ancient arbours overlooking the sea. The day was sunny and hot, so she was dressed in one of the gowns of fine, thin fabric that she had ordered with her Prince's permission – she could have worn a garment belonging to his daughter, Queen Alicent, but she feared he would perceive it as an attempt of manipulation.

She was to be honest with him, as her betrothed demanded.

She sighed quietly, seeing his seated silhouette in the distance, silver trays full of lemon and apple cakes, caramelised dates, grapes and strawberries on a small white table in front of him. She blinked, coming closer with a rattle of stones under her feet, standing in front of him, feeling her heart stop in her throat.

Otto gave her a gentle, reassuring smile and held out his hand in front of him, pointing to the empty chair across from him, seeing how tense she was.

"My Lady. Thank you for agreeing to speak to the grumbling old man and listen to his concerns." He said lightly and she swallowed hard, sitting down, placing her hands on her thighs.

"Treat yourself. My daughter loves caramelised dates." He said and reached for one himself, taking a bite of it.

He chewed it and swallowed, nodding appreciatively, as if indeed their flavour appealed to him too.

"Do you know what my grandson's – and your betrothed's – favourite dish is?" He asked, looking at her curiously, as if he was challenging her.

She raised her eyebrows and shrugged her shoulders, involuntarily grinning with amusement.

"I don't think such considerations occupy his head. He rarely delights in food, and if he does, it is more in the privacy of his own mind." She said calmly.

Otto hummed under his breath, as if her answer satisfied him, and nodded.

"Our Prince is a man of principle and loves simplicity. Deliberations on trivial things bore him and arouse his frustration, just like the romantic courting of women." He said, spreading out comfortably in his chair, placing his hands on the armrests, asking her the obvious question between his words.

How had she managed to seduce him?

She huffed under her breath and turned her gaze away, looking out at the sea stretching around them, the pleasant fresh breeze and shade cooling her sun-warmed skin.

"Like any man, he is not fond of empty words. He chooses his own deliberately and expects others to do the same. Unless he becomes enraged – then his fury erupts like a volcano." She said lightly, for some reason feeling no fear at the thought.

She had ceased to fear him long ago.

She knew that even if he wanted to, he wouldn't be able to truly hurt her.

"The letter you found in your chamber was sent to you on my command." He said calmly.

She froze, staring blankly ahead, feeling her heart begin to pound like mad.

It was a trial, she suddenly realised.

He wanted to see if she was trustworthy.

For some reason, a wave of sadness and disappointment rippled through her heart.

She naively believed for a moment that her person could occupy her father's mind.

Otto continued, hearing her silence full of disbelief.

"I need to know what you want, child. I need you to put your desires into words so that I can understand what kind of person is sitting right in front of me to become my grandson's wife." He said slowly, as if carefully choosing every thought that left his lips – his voice was gentle and soothing, as if he was trying to reassure her that what she was going to say would remain their secret.

She lowered her gaze, feeling her heart pound like mad in terror – not because she was afraid of him, but because his question startled her.

She didn't know what to answer.

She had never thought about it.

Until now, she had only been the fulfilment of his desires, she thought with shame, playing with her fingers, feeling certain Otto would take her silence as a bad sign, proof that her intentions were not pure.

"I am what he wants me to be." She finally muttered, feeling tears of embarrassment under her eyelids burning as much as if they were living fire.

Lord Hightower looked at her in silence and twisted in his seat with a creak of wood, as if surprised by her answer.

"Do you wish to marry him?" He asked, and she nodded without thinking.

"I want to be by his side. His presence fills my soul and heart with a strange peace. When he is beside me, I am no longer afraid. Of my father, of war, or of what will happen to me. I am not afraid of death or dragon fire. Sometimes I think it would be better for me to die in battle than to live to see the moment when I realise I have lost his affection." She choked out in a trembling voice, feeling the heavy tears one by one run down her cheeks – she was wiping them off the warm skin of her face with her hands, but they flowed anyway.

Why had she said that?

Why was she letting him know her weakness?

Maybe because deep down she hoped that he would kill her one day, she thought.

That he would not let her live to see the day when her husband would love another woman.

"Our Prince holds you in a respect and esteem that he has never bestowed on any woman before. He allows himself to be vulnerable and weak in your presence. Men, dear child, experiencing physical fulfilment without a soul bond, feel an emptiness after the act. Their desire is like a cry of desperation for purely childlike attention and tenderness – then, in his chamber, seeing him in your embrace, I saw a boy who feels protected and comforted. I'm afraid that my grandson fell in love with you."

She swallowed with difficulty, choking on her own tears, looking at him in disbelief, her heart pounding in her chest like mad.

I'm afraid that my grandson fell in love with you.

She shook her head, feeling that she could not accept those words.

He desired her, he enjoyed her, he was fond of her, but he did not love her.

"I dearly loved my late wife. She was my closest confidante, my beloved friend, the most beautiful of women. She was strong, and my grandson is weak. Filled with complexes, he lives to prove his worth, power and strength, not seeing that he is crushing the efforts of many years, made by me and his father. He needs guides, trusted advisors who love him and who want him to prevail. I know that it was because of you that my grandson told his brother about his plans regarding Rook Rest's. I know that you advised him against plotting behind Aegon's back and sought to rally them. You advise our Prince wisely and I wish you to be his wife. As the daughter of the Lady of Runestone, you are the blood of the Kingdom of the Mountain and the Vale, which will be crucial to us when the siege of Harrenhal begins. Your task to the Kingdom will be to rally the Lords against Lady Arryn's will and to stop my grandson from acting recklessly and violently. Do you understand what I have in mind?" He asked calmly, and she nodded quickly, wiping her hot, swollen cheeks with her hands.

"Yes."

As she was fitting her wedding gown, letting the servants and seamstresses check the length of the sleeves, she thought about Otto Hightower's words and how much they surprised her.

He was a shrewd and enlightened man, of that she was convinced – he also let her know that he did not see her as an enemy or a threat, but as an opportunity for them and the Kingdom as a whole.

For some reason, something in his words and the way he said them comforted her – she felt that, at last, the burden of the war and the Crown would partly fall off the Prince's back, allowing someone more experienced to advise him on difficult and complicated matters that would have overwhelmed the wisest of men.

She shuddered as the door to her chamber opened and her betrothed stepped inside, searching for her with his eye.

"No!" She squealed, fleeing behind the light-coloured three-door screen standing nearby. "It brings misfortune. Leave."

He shouldn't see her in her wedding gown before their nuptials.

She heard his sigh of impatience and his lazy footsteps on the other side – when he stopped the servants bowed to him and left the chamber, leaving them alone.

"What did he say?" He asked calmly.

She sighed quietly, stepping closer to the wall of thin material behind which she could see the shadow of his tall figure.

"That he wishes me to win the support of the Lords of the Vale for you. That I would help him control your impulsive nature." She said, and he snorted, frustrated, turning his head to the side.

"Is that how he sees me? As an uncontrollable animal to be tamed?" He asked with a regret that made her swallow hard, her fingers touching the fabric as if she wanted to touch his chest.

His heart.

"No. But he and I know what your anger means and how dangerous it can be. That it is only when its first wave passes that your coolness and common sense returns to you. There is a fire running through your veins – that is your nature. We do not want you to burn in the heat of your own fury, regretting later the deeds done in a sudden burst of rage." She muttered and heard him draw in a breath, as if her words pained him.

"He is disappointed in me, then." He said coldly and she closed her eyes, feeling helpless against his low self-esteem.

"No, brother. He wants your victory, exactly as I do. If you craved sweet lies, you would allow Larys Strong to pour poison into your ears, surrounding yourself with lords who would praise you and your greatness. You, in your wisdom, sent for your grandfather, who is sincere, who cares for you and your family."

"Ours." He corrected her, and she smiled involuntarily with gratitude.

"Ours."

She heard him take a step towards the screen, his forehead pressed against the material – she did the same, on the other side, hearing his quiet breath.

"– I desire you –" He whispered, and she sighed, feeling his words in her nipples, her lips, the tips of her fingers and her throbbing, swollen cunt.

"– let's last until our wedding – let's make this the night we've waited and longed for –" She said in a breaking voice, feeling that she was losing the battle with herself, his scent, his presence, his closeness making her grow hot.

"– what are you suggesting? – that you won't spend upcoming nights in my bed? –" He exhaled, placing his hands on the screen wall, and she felt a wonderful shiver of pleasure run down her cheeks, along her breasts and down her spine.

"– lēkia –" She gasped and they both sighed as the door to her chamber opened and Lysa stepped inside, holding in her hand the jewellery casket she had ordered for the occasion.

"– leave us, brother –" She whispered in a trembling voice, feeling her womanhood pulsing greedily around nothing, a drop of her wetness running down the inside of her thigh.

"– visit me tonight –"

"– I can't – for at least a few days let me pretend I have dignity –" She mumbled and heard him swallow hard, as if her words caused him pain.

She knew he hesitated, that he wanted to say something more, but resigned – she saw him turn and move towards the door, Lysa bowed to him as he left the room without a word.

She exhaled loudly, stepping out from behind the screen, and Lysa gave her one warm, comforting smile.

She was her only friend.

"They have arrived, my Lady – hair adornments, a dagger and a necklace, matching your instructions in every detail." She said, tilting the lid open.

She smiled broadly as she came closer, seeing the objects lying on the cushion – a thin, delicate golden chain with sapphires framed so that they looked like three water drops – two small and one large that was lying between them – her hair pins in the shape of forget-me-nots, also made of sapphire stones, and a long, beautiful dagger, her gift for her future husband.

She had chosen her jewellery deliberately – her wedding gown was sewn from fabrics in light blue tones and browns – she wanted to show her future husband her devotion to him and her own allegiance to Runestone at the same time.

According to what she had heard, King Aegon began to slowly awaken, but he was dazed and was merely babbling, fed with the milk of the poppy by the Maester – they wanted to spare him the pain, which must have been immense anyway, looking at how much of his skin had been burned in the fire.

However, the fact that he was regaining consciousness worried her Prince, who pushed for the nuptials to take place as soon as possible – he was afraid that his brother, as soon as he found out about it, would forbid the Septon to marry them out of sheer spite.

They renounced grand ceremonies and processions – their subjects were starving, and they did not want them to think that during their great suffering they were drinking wine and dancing, mocking them.

"Thanks to my spies, we were able to prevent great misfortune – a dozen inconspicuous boats arrived under cover of darkness from Dragonstone to King's Landing, filled to the brim with food. They were to be passed on as gifts from Queen Rhaenyra to her subjects. Instead, the food will be distributed on the streets of the city just before your nuptials, so that the whole Kingdom can rejoice with you." Said Otto during the Small Council meeting – her future husband had dismissed his mother in revenge for her affair with Criston Cole, thus freeing up a seat at the table.

As she was a dragon rider and would be participating in the war, she needed to know what was happening, so she was specifically assigned a seat in the Small Council, right next to the Prince Regent's grandfather.

She threw her cousin a quick glance and saw that he was looking at her as well, his grin indicating that he was more than pleased.

"Excellent." He said.

Her betrothed, in keeping with her wishes, had allowed them to spend the nights before their nuptials apart, she knew, however, that he was frustrated and made that known whenever he could.

"No. You stay, hāedar." He said when he closed the meeting and she stood up as did everyone else gathered.

She swallowed hard when she heard the door close – she saw out of the corner of her eye that he stood from his seat and approached her with a lazy, unhurried step.

She gasped as she felt his large hand on her waist, wandering up and down, his other hand without any warning slipped under the fabric of her gown from above and squeezed softly her silky, plump breast.

She pressed her lips together, suppressing a quiet moan of pleasure when she felt his parted, moist lips run over her neck, leaving a wet, sticky trail on her skin, his hot breath making her cunt, swollen with desire and longing, clench greedily around nothing.

"– stop –" She muttered, grabbing his wrist as his hand from her waist and hip slid down between her thighs, closing on her womanhood.

"– are you touching yourself? – hm? –" He asked coldly and she shook her head, panting heavily as she felt his hard manhood pushing against her buttocks, a drop of cold sweat dripped down her back.

"– no – I suffer just as you do, lēkia – please –" She mumbled and cried out, tilting her head back as his fingertips began to gently tease what was under the material of her dress, a wonderful wave of heat surging through her loins.

"– mmm –" He hummed and let her go, leaving her alone, thirsty and quivering with desire, walking out of the room without even giving her a single glance.

Contrary to what her cousin thought, it wasn't just for him that the wait for their night together was agony – her betrothed demanded that since he couldn't touch her, she couldn't either.

She knew that he also did not satisfy his urges in any way, which made him more mischievous – he would lurk for an opportunity for them to be alone and put his hand between her thighs to caress and tease her, whispering in her ear.

"– beg, and maybe I'll fuck you –" He hissed, her hand clenched on his arm.

"– n-no – please, please, stop –"

He let her go then, his jaw clenched in annoyance and some kind of awe, as if he didn't think she could really stand it – her whole body screamed before his eyes that she wanted it, and yet she still refused him.

It was a sign of strong will for him, proof that her words were not empty and her decisions were final.

On the day the nuptials were to take place, the entire Red Keep was put on its feet – Otto feared an attack from all sides, including poisoning, so guards personally chosen by him went to the Sept, as well as to the kitchens, to keep an eye on the cooks and make sure they didn't add anything to the food.

She was surprised by this, but she felt relieved that her future husband's grandfather was watching over everything.

From the morning, Lysa and the other servants had been helping her put on her gown – it fitted her body perfectly, revealing her cleavage and shoulders – the sleeves of the bottom dress clung to her arms, while the sleeves of her top dress, the blue one, was slit at the elbows, falling all the way to the ground.

Some of her hair was pinned up in a bun at the back of her head, decorated with small sapphire flowers, while some fell in waves down her back.

A necklace completed the look – it adorned her long neck and accentuated the colour of the fabric of her gown, however, she actually hoped that this and her sapphire hair adornments would be the only things left on her body during their wedding night.

She shuddered as the door to her chamber opened and she saw Queen Alicent before her – she stepped down from the small dais and bowed to her as did her servants, whether she wanted to or not having to show her respect.

The Dowager Queen stopped before her and sighed, folding her hands in front of her.

"Do you know what kind of man you will marry? Who my son is?" She asked, and she swallowed hard, wondering how a mother could know so little about her own child.

She thought she was simply afraid of the answers to the questions she was asking herself and didn't want to know them, separating herself from who her son was in her mind.

"Yes, Your Grace." She said calmly, looking her straight in the eye. "Our Prince holds you in deep esteem and hopes to earn your praise."

She saw Alicent's lips twitch, her eyebrows arching in an expression of regret, as if her words had caused her pain, her large brown eyes filled with nothing but sadness.

She nodded, as if accepting her words in her heart, and gestured to her servant, who held a small chest in her hand.

"I wish to offer a blessing to you and my son. I ask that you accept this small gift from me, along with my desire for you to be protected by the gods themselves." Said the Queen and opened the lid – she saw a fine gold chain with a small pendant in the shape of a seven-pointed star.

She nodded, looking at it, wondering if, when she went to see her son, she would find at least a few warm words for him.

The journey in the carriage through King's Landing seemed to last for ages to her – the streets were full of happy people – Lord Hightower, according to his plan, began handing out food to the people, leading to a sudden outburst of joy.

The smallfolk, in keeping with his desire, saw this event as a sign, recognising that the gods had supported the marriage between the Prince and his relative by sending them revelry, putting an end to their hunger.

However, for how long will the supplies stolen from Princess Rhaenyra last?

When will their suffering begin anew?

She swallowed hard at the thought that the war had to end as soon as possible, but both her future husband and Dragonstone knew that neither of them had enough advantage to bring the other to its knees.

When she arrived before the Great Sept and the carriage doors opened in front of her, she froze, feeling panic – the people around her were shouting her name, throwing flowers, reaching out to her as if she were some kind of semi-divine being, a symbol of the life they would never know.

She felt overwhelmed and stunned, alone among the crowd, small without her dragon and bow, dressed in a long gown like a doll.

For some reason she wanted to cry.

"My Lady." She heard a voice in front of her, then saw Otto Hightower walking towards her between the guards. "My Lady, give me your hand."

She swallowed hard and did as he asked, placing her palm on his, rough and large. With his help, she walked down a few steps to a small wooden platform, and from it to the ground, feeling that her legs were trembling with fear.

"I am not your father, but I will be more than happy if you do me this honour. It is a difficult journey and no young woman should have to walk it alone." He said calmly, and she looked at him with big eyes, noticing something in his gaze that could have been sympathy or simple concern.

She had always dreamed of someone looking at her like that.

The way a father would look at his daughter.

She nodded, thinking in the back of her mind that if she let go of his hand she would just fall, her legs soft as cotton wool.

As she walked with Lord Hightower into the Great Sept, she heard the sound of trumpets, young girls, daughters of lords and knights throwing flowers at her feet.

It all seemed unreal to her – the temple around her was so gigantic that it took her breath away, the great, tall statues of the Seven Gods towering over those gathered to form a circle, enclosing the entire structure.

At the very centre, on a raised platform stood the altar at which stood the Grand Septon and her betrothed, a sweet emotion squeezed her throat as she looked at his face.

Though he stood erect, with his hands folded behind his back like a statue, she could see that his gaze was hot, vulnerable, his eye large, his lips parted in a heavy breath as if he longed to cry at the sight of her – the fact that she had chosen not the colour of his or her lineage, but his colour, the blue of his sapphire, something only he could understand, the expression of her devotion, her understanding, her affection.

When they stopped at the steps Otto let her go, but she, seeing her cousin's face felt more confident – she grabbed the front of her gown and lifted it, not wanting to step on it, climbing slowly upwards, her steps echoing loudly around her.

She sighed quietly as she stood in front of them, not daring to look at his face, feeling that if she did she would cry for some reason.

It was really happening.

She was to become a wife.

She looked at him and it was a mistake – she felt a squeeze in her throat when she saw him draw in the air loudly when his gaze met hers, as if he felt something deep inside himself that frightened him, his lips slightly parted in a shuddering breath.

"You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection."

Her cousin swallowed loudly, looked at the Septon and then behind him, nodding – Gwayne Hightower approached him with a long black cloak embroidered with green threads from which the figure of a three-headed dragon was formed at the very centre.

The crest of their family and the colours of the Hightowers.

She bowed humbly as he threw the cloak over her shoulders with a sweeping gesture, making sure the material did not slip, and she closed her eyes.

He took her under his protection.

"We stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife: one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder." Said the Septon – her betrothed extended his hand to her, standing proud and upright, so she placed her palm on his – the priest entwined their joined hands with a wide, bright ribbon.

"In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Look upon one another and say the words." He said, and they looked at each other, her heart pounding in her chest once before they both opened their mouths and their lungs left the words spoken surprisingly confidently and calmly.

"Father,

Smith,

Warrior,

Mother,

Maiden,

Crone,

Stranger

I am hers | I am his

and she is mine | and he is mine

from this day, until the end of my days."

They fell silent, and though she thought he would not do it, that it would be beneath his dignity, he took her hot cheek in his hand and leaned down, looking at her as if he held the entire heritage of Old Valyria in his fingers.

"With this kiss, I pledge my love." He whispered, only a quiet sigh escaping her throat as his full, fleshy lips pressed against hers in a deep, warm, moist kiss, so tender and soft that she felt a single, lonely tear run down her cheek.

My love.

When he broke the kiss he didn't move away for a moment, just looking at her, and she smiled in a way that must have made him happy, because he smiled too, shyly and sweetly, like a little boy.

They were husband and wife.

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axelsagewrites · 1 year

Text

Main Masterlist Here

Game of Thrones Masterlist Here

Warnings/Guides

【P】Platonic【P】 🆇Smut 18+🆇

Request Line Up and Request Rules

♡ Aemond Targaryen ♡

Lemon Cakes - Part One - Part Two - Part Three

Modern Aemond HCs

Courting HCs

Jealousy HC's

🆇Polaroid's Part 1🆇 🆇Missed You Part 2🆇

🆇Collar🆇

♡ Aegon Targaryen ♡

Modern Aegon HCs

Promise

Artist

🆇Reward🆇

🆇Passageways🆇

Wrapping Presents

Birthday Celebrations

Neighbour part one Daughter part two

♡ Helaena Targaryen ♡

Modern Helaena HCs

🆇Wife🆇

♡ Jace Velaryon ♡

Modern Jace HC's

Cocky Part One 🆇Part Two🆇

🆇Nsfw Alphabet🆇

🆇See You Again🆇

Modern Crush Headcannons

🆇How to Treat a Princess🆇 (featuring Aegon)

🆇Yours🆇

Frat Party Part 1- Frat Baby Part 2

🆇Perfect Wife🆇

Studying

♡ Luke Velaryon ♡

Modern Luke HC's

Dance

Study date - part one - part two

♡ Daemon Targaryen ♡

Modern Daemon HC's

🆇My Sweet Dragon🆇

🆇Partition🆇

🆇In Charge🆇

My Moon & Stars (sequel to in charge)

【P】Swear it【P】

Sugar Baby Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - 🆇Part 4.5🆇 - Part 4 - Part 5 Wedding - Honeymoon

🆇Missed You🆇

🆇Rings🆇

🆇Moved In🆇

♡ Rhaenyra Targaryen ♡

🆇Perzītsos🆇

🆇 Worth it🆇

♡ Harwin Strong ♡

🆇Take Care of You🆇

Suitable Match

♡ Criston Cole ♡

🆇Test my Devotion🆇

♡ Cregan Stark ♡

🆇 Princess🆇

🆇Perfect Little Prisoner🆇

♡Alicent Hightower♡

🆇Dreams🆇

Preferences/Multicharacter

How they react to you being drunk – Aemond, Aegon, Heleana 🆇How he is in bed🆇 – Aemond, Aegon, Jace, Daemon, Harwin 🆇Modern NSFW Heacannons🆇- Jace, Daemon, Aegon, Aemond How they react to your period - Aemond, Aegon, Jace, Cregan, Luke

Modern boyfriend Headcannons - aegon, aemond, jace, luke

New Years Countdown - aegon, aemond, jace, luke

Thanks for any support I appreciate it all xoxo Sage

Dividers from here and here from @saradika

Post topper made on Canva

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fastlikealambo · 2 months

Text

The third wife of rhaenyra targaryen.|| rhaenyra targaryen x black!fem reader

In the five years since Queen Rhaenyra The Conqueror, Bringer of New Valyria, triumphed over the usurper without losing a single dragon, the realm is at peace. Having no need of husbands and taking two other wives, Queen Alicent and Queen Mysaria, the dragon queen is in need of a third and final wife to rule the seven kingdoms at her side.

You were just a girl from nowhere, watching the sky fill with dragons at peace, destined to be a scullery maid in a vicious household and the future wife of a ratcatcher until fate and blood decide your future for you.

History will remember Rhaenyra Targaryen as the great unifier, the second coming of Visenya Targaryen who brought another golden age of dragons out of war. But they will sing songs of you, the smallfolk who ascended to fire and blood as the queen’s favorite, the one they tried to kill so many times, the third wife of rhaenyra targaryen.

Some notes: Aegon, Aemond, and Daemon are dead but their dragons were saved, and Otto Hightower and Criston Cole spontaneously combusted, I don’t know what to tell yall. Luke lived, Jace lived, Helaena lived, Jaehaerys lived, Baela and Rhaena are happy goddammit. During the short war, Rhaenyra married Mysaria and one year after the dance of dragons ended, she also married Alicent.

Some other notes: This is dark and I drew some inspiration from Cinderella and Hurrem Sultan (the fictional representation of her from the show's magnificent century but nobody I know watches that show). Rhaenyra is in her thirties and reader is in her twenties.

Trigger warnings for violence, murder, abuse. MINORS DNI

Chapter One.

Chapter Two.

Chapter Three: dawn.

Had the queen not been sitting at your side, you could have easily mistaken the scene before you for any family in King’s Landing.

Laughing children milled about with their nursemaids following close behind and there were several toys in your lap given to you by Rhaenyra’s youngest sons. It was loud and joyful and there was an ease to the dragon queen’s smile.

“I apologize, I know you wanted to settle in first but I couldn’t not stop in, the noise is something we all have grown accustomed to as I’m sure you will with time.” Rhaenyra said, bouncing her daughter Visenya on her knee.

“I don’t mind it all, Your Grace. It has been my mother and I my whole life, I welcome noise. Especially such happy noise after such dark times.”

“I’ve sent the Queensguard to bring your mother shortly, you need not feel alone here. I was once known as the realm’s delight but somehow I believe that title will be passed to you. Know that here and when we are alone, I’m only Rhaenyra.” Rhaenyra said, taking your hand.

The doors swung open and in walked two women that Rhaenyra rose to greet and kiss. You had never laid eyes on Queen Mysaria or Queen Alicent but judging by the way they looked at you with curiosity and coldness that had to be them.

“May I present my consorts, Queen Mysaria and Queen Alicent.”

You rose and curtsied, the fear creeping in once more.

Would they see you as a friend and lover?

Or a threat?

Mysaria came forward first with a raised eyebrow but a warm embrace. She seemed to breathe you in all at once and you felt her embrace shift to fit you with precision and intimacy.

“You are most welcome here, don’t be afraid.” Mysaria said, squeezing both of your hands before stepping back with a pleasant smile, studying you all the same.

Alicent stepped forward elegantly and you felt more exposed beneath her gaze than Rhaenyra’s. The redhead offered no embrace but her lips were soft and brisk upon your cheek, pulling away politely.

“So many new faces around the keep but yours will be hard to forget, welcome.” Alicent said, voice like a lemon cake in another room, distantly sweet with a sharp near sour undertone.

This was a woman who was used to getting what she wanted and you were not what she wanted.

For now.

The conversation was interrupted by a hairy prickling that slowly traveled down your sleeve. Mysaria let out a small gasp as you looked down to see a rather large spider on your arm and though you wanted to shake your arm and scream, something told you not to.

A younger blonde girl rushed forward without a word, carefully coaxing the spider off your arm and into her hands.

“I’m sorry.” She muttered quietly but you smiled in return and relief.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, the little one only wanted to say hello, no harm done.” You said.

“This is Princess Helaena, my daughter.” Alicent said, the first real smile to cross her face since greeting Rhaenyra.

“A pleasure to meet you Princess, I look forward to getting to know you and all the creatures I have yet to make an acquaintance with.”

Helaena cocked her head to the side and looked somehow at you and completely through you before walking away.

“Close your window at night, there are lions in the rain.” She muttered, low enough for only you to hear and was gone just as quickly as she arrived.

There was no time to ponder what that meant as Rhaenyra kissed her wives again, lips trailing down Mysaria’s neck before inhaling her scent deeply. She then turned to Alicent, bringing her forehead to Alicent’s own, cradling the back of her head.

“We’ll talk more at dinner but for now, let’s get you settled into your quarters, you must be tired.” Rhaenyra said and took your hand again.

“Thank you both for welcoming me so kindly, I know I will be happy here.” You addressed Mysaria and Alicent with a smile that they both returned before going their separate ways.

“You can breathe now, you did well.” Rhaenyra said, squeezing your hand as you made your way through the keep.

“ They are both formidable, I understand why you would choose them to sit by your side. I don’t believe I am formidable but I know I will do my best.” You said and Rhaenyra stopped at a door, hand cradling your cheek.

“I have known you less than a day and formidable is a perfect word for you, among many more.”

Rhaenyra threw open the door to the most beautiful chambers you had ever seen, a bed wide enough to fit all in the castle, a roaring fire, and a bathtub you could practically swim in much less bathe.

It was all yours, there was no waiting, no looking over your shoulder, you would sleep well and so would your mother for the first time in years.

Why did it take an act of blood for the gods to favor you?

Rhaenyra led you to a mirror, wrapping her arms around your waist.

“Mysaria is my star, Alicent is my sky, and you will be my dawn. Whatever you could want for is given freely, all I ask is that you remember the dignity of the seat you will hold, keep my counsel, and honor yourself. There can be no secrets between us now.”

You placed your hand over Rhaenyra’s hand, tiny flecks of dried blood beneath your nails.

“No secrets.”

That’s it for this chapter! Thank you for reading!

@asvterias

@nxcxllxsevens

@newcaptainofsquad9

@awolfcsworld

@wannabwanted

@evattude

#rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x black!reader #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra x you #rhaenyra x reader

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just-some-random-blogger · 2 months

Text

Snow Angel

Jacaerys' Version

I'll angel in the snow until I'm worthy but if it kills me, I tried.

Gwyane's Version ❄ Daemon's Version ❄ Aegon's Version ❄ Aemond's Version ❄ Jacaerys' Version ❄ Cregan's Version ❄ Criston's Version

Jacaerys Velaryon x Targaryen!Reader | 800< | cw: fem!reader, targcest, reader is aemond's twin, angst, violence, blood, war, death, typos, etc.

A/N: renee rapp my beloved. jacaerys and aemond's version go hand in hand

You remember talking about running away with Jace when you were kids. You told him about your plans to pack your dresses, flee on your dragon, and live off lemon cakes. You cried when he laughed at you and swore never to speak to him again.

But then he did what he did best and cast your worries away. He panicked, unintending to cause you sadness, then made a fool of himself until he got you to smile. And when you did, he promised to himself never to make you cry again.

"Why do you want to run away anyway?" Jacaerys asks after you were calmer, finding a place beside you on the grass on which you sat.

You wipe your nose on your sleeve and give him a look, "is it really not obvious?"

He grows a bit nervous. He internally denies it's because he's made you cry.

"You are like teasing Aemond," you turn to your shoes, "Aemond likes teasing me-"

"He does?"

You turn back to him.

"Then I will fight him for it."

"But that's the problem Jace!" you feel your lips quiver, "it's all so horrid. I don't like how you fight," you pull on the grass, "I don't like how he fights me. I don't like fighting."

For a moment, Jacaerys feels guilty. He regrets arguing with Aemond... but then again, he deserved it.

"I don't understand," you speak quietly, "we're twins. I am his half and he is mine. We shared the same womb and yet he acts like we share nothing in common..." your voice becomes shaky, "why does he dislike me so?"

Gods, he so deserved it.

You muse to him about other things your wretched twin brother has done to you, and this becomes your ritual. Every time you are together, you vent to him, and he listens. But one day, his family leaves King's Landing and, again, he does the thing he's promised he'd never do: he made you cry.

He writes to you every week after leaving. He tells you how much he misses you. He tells you how much he misses your laugh, your bad jests, even your dolls, and how Vermax was lonely without your dragon to fly with.

And so one day, in your reply, you ask to fly with him in secret. You ask to meetup somewhere no one would think to look for either of you, then you spend the day enjoying each other's company. None would know about your whereabouts but each other.

But then your family fractured, there was them and there was you, and both found each other opposite sides. One day, you simply could not take it, so you wrote to him: meet me in our secret place.

In truth, you did not expect him to show, but when he did, you were relieved to see him... until he opened his mouth.

"What do you want from me, Aunt?" Jacaerys spoke.

You knit your brows, "what?"

"Have you come to surrender? To pledge yourself to the one true Queen?"

You shake your head in disbelief of what you were hearing. You walk towards him, "Jace, I-"

"She will accept you," he says, "she will accept all of you. You need just bend the-"

"Run away with me," you press your hand to his chest.

He stares at you, nostrils flaring, line forming between his brows.

You rapidly shake your head, "you know that's all I've ever wanted. To be done and rid of this bother."

Jacaerys takes your hand and whispers your name, "you know tis not that simple."

"We can make it simple. Let us ride off and-"

"You have a duty to your family, as do I."

"And what of the duty to our hearts?" you clutch his hand. His jaw clenches. You mutter, "there is no greater duty than fulfilling that of what's borne from love."

He does not respond to you. Your eyes search his. Your grip tightens. He releases you. Soon he's breaking his promise all over again. Tears spill over as you pull away from him, "am I not worthy enough of even this?"

He calls your name as you step back. Before he can speak, his attention is taken by the sky and the loud sound of flapping dragon wings. It was unmistakably Vhagar.

You are unable to keep him from riding off and facing the gargantuan. You look up and watch your brother unleash his fury upon him. You knew better than to get in the way, but you would not have Jacaerys killed when you were the one who called him here in the first place.

You get on your mount and do your best to catch Aemond's attention. You scream and shout but to no avail, not until your dragon knocks into the tail of your twin's.

You did not expect him to be so angry. You did not expect him to attack you. You could do nothing as you watched your dragon choke in the maw of your brother's ride. The sound of your own screams deafen you, and so you hear not the sound of him screaming out your name.

And as you descend from the height, Jacaerys is mortified. He commands Vermax to catch you, and he tries his best, but even his best was not enough to save you from your end.

#jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys fanfic #jacaerys #jacaerys velaryon fanfic #jacaerys fluff #jacaerys angst #jacaerys fic #jacaerys velaryon fluff #jacaerys velaryon angst #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon angst

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floatyflowers · 2 years

Text

Dark Male! Rhaenyra Targaryen x Cousin Reader

You are the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, making you the beloved cousin of the realm's delight, Rhaeger Targaryen.

There is no lie that the crown prince is enamored with you, and it is clearly shown everytime you visit Kingslanding.

You two would spend long periods together, flying on your dragons, mocking the ladies and lords of the court while eating lemon cakes.

Indeed, no one can deny the prince's infatuation with you.

Everything was going well, until your aunt Aemma died during childbirth, and your father got exiled.

Not only that but Rhaeger's father remarried to Lady Alicent Hightower, a girl, Rhaeger considered a dear friend.

Also your mother was found dead, it is said that Lady Royce fall off of her horse.

You ended up inheriting Runestone afterwards.

When the time came to marry, Rhaeger was forced to marry from House Velaryon for alliances, completely denied your hand in marriage.

However, his lady wife was unable to bear him children nor was she interested in him as her preferences lie with the same sex.

Rhaeger felt hopeless and bitter with everyone and everything, his succession to the throne is threatened until Daemon who returned back from his war at Stepstones.

His uncle suggests that he has children from another woman and passes them off as his and his lady wife's children.

Little did Daemon know, that the younger Targaryen prince would choose you to be the mother of his children.

Rhaeger's wife agreed to his plan, but you were hesitant at first.

"Please (Y/n), there is no one I can entrust with such a task except for you, dear cousin"

However, Rhaeger managed to convince you in the end by guilt-tripping you, agreeing to only give him a son.

But, you ended up giving him three sons.

Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey.

All three ended up inheriting your appearance, dark hair with purple eyes.

All are loved by their father, especially Lucerys who inherited your soft attitude.

Of course, rumors spiraled around the court about your children's legitimacy every time you visited.

Which made you decide to stop visiting, and continue residing at Runestone as its Lady even if staying away from your children hurt you.

Nevertheless, your departure didn't last for long as Rhaeger's wife 'dies'

Rhaeger rushes to Runestone, proposing that you both get married and return with him to Dragonstone where you two could raise your children in peace.

"Rhaeger... That's a wonderful proposal, I love our children truly, yet I only see you as a friend whom I helped in a time of need"

Yeah, the Targaryen prince didn't take kindly to your words.

Which resulted in him kidnapping you and marrying you against your will in the traditions of your house with your sons, Jace and Luke as witnesses.

Part Two

#tw: toxic relationships #yandere house of the dragon #rhaenyra x reader #Genderbend Rhaenyra #house of the dragon #reader insert #lucerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #mother reader

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two-white-butterflies · 2 months

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a lemon cake | daemon targaryen

Description: The Hendriks have always kept to their own. What happens when a betrothal happens between the only Hendrik daughter and the Rogue Prince? A story where, you go through lengths in order to ensure your lord husband's loyalty.

W.C: a lotta words super mega ultra

A/N: After re-watching Descendants. I figured that this would be a good plot. Reader basically gives Daemon a love potion. It wears off. He's still in love. No beta we die like men. OC Daemon because of the love potion, but otherwise still him.

House Hendrik. In silence we persevere.

When the first lord of your house settled from Old Valyria, they did not bring dragons or swords - but they did bring magic. Magic that allowed the members of the house to hear the whispers of nature. But lately, nature has only answered with silence.

The lands were barren, and the sheep were dying of illness.

The gold in your coffers were nearing extinction. Correction, there wasn't anything left - your father has to work in the King's council to ensure that you and your children would live a comfortable life.

A prolonged sigh escapes your mouth. You stared at yourself through the reflection on the mirror. In silence we persevere.

You remind yourself of the words your father uttered before he left.

"My lady," the maid clears her throat. She was holding a sealed letter. "Thank you," you mumble while taking the paper from her hands.

You force a smile on your face.

My dearest daughter,

I am pleased announce that the King has agreed to an engagement, and your presence in the Red Keep is of utmost importance. It seems like the Seven Gods have answered our prayers. Do not think about the gold that we'll use to bring you here, your Aunt Jayne has agreed to sponsor the trip, with the promise that you won't forget her once you are a nobleman's wife. Take care.

All my love,

your father.

You finished reading the letter, inhaling the scent of vanilla. It was sadly a short letter, not detailing anything about your father's stay. He made sure that the letter was short and concise. He did not even have money for ink.

"My lady?" the maid inquires, curious about the contents of the letter.

"Lord Hendrik has invited me to join him in the Red Keep." you inform, watching as she poured you a glass of tea. "- will you promise to take care of the household in my absence?" you asked, and she presses a kiss to your forehead.

She stood as your mother, after Lady Hendrik died.

"I promise." she swore. "- have fun in the Capital." she smiled.

You could only nod.

"You told me that he agreed on a betrothal!" your eyebrows merged together. "You wouldn't have come here if the only purpose was finding a suitable match." your father insists.

"Our house has stood proud, looked down on others with lesser breeding. If word ever comes out that I am here to save a sinking ship, our reputation will be ruined." you argued.

"If there was another choice, I wouldn't ask." he says regretfully, his eyes cloudy with tears threatening to spill out. "- my position in the King's council is under threat. My health has fallen drastically, and only a husband can save you and our house." he breathes.

He knows that it shouldn't be that way, but it is.

"What you mean to say is..." you could not stomach to say the word.

"- this is my last gamble, child. If you do not wish to do it for our family, at least do it for yourself." he pleads.

Stupid family with their idiotic gambles. You cursed while continuing to concoct the potion. There was a hundred other ladies in this court, some more beautiful - some having bigger breasts - some having more melodious voices. And what were you stuck with?

This old gown that you inherited from your mother.

You weren't dealt the winning hand, so you must play with the cards that you were dealt with.

"Kesā sagon ñuhon." you whispered into the powder, feeling chills run up your spine as the magic takes effect. You will be mine.

You press a finger to your lips. Who will be mine?

Of course, they needed to be rich. You were in poverty and eating love for breakfast wasn't something you're looking forward to.

And of course, they needed to be handsome - because it will be a curse to stare at an ugly face everyday.

"Prince Daemon," you say out loud.

You fancied him when you were younger.

He had flowing silver-gold hair, and entrancing deep purple eyes. He was every maiden's dream. All everyone saw was a dangerous man - a shifting tide. He was quick to anger and slow to forgive.

But that wasn't going to be a problem.

If your love potion was going to take its full effect, he'd be a tamed dragon, and you'd be the most beautiful maiden in his eyes. He'd be loyal to you no matter what you did.

The thought of taming an untamable man was...alluring.

"Prince Daemon it is, then." you decide. Carefully storing the powder in the empty space of your locket.

The plan needed to work.

Daemon's eyes narrowed, seeing Lord Hendrik's daughter walk across the garden. His eyes were drawn towards her figure. He's heard stories about your great beauty - and now he's finally had the luxury of meeting you. "Lady Hendrik," he calls your name.

"My prince," you bowed, surprised that he knows you. "- it is a pleasure to be be in your presence." your gaze remained on the floor.

"I believe that I am the one who should be saying that," he tilted his head with a pensive smile. His eyes alternated between your eyes and your lips, engrossing himself in your features. "- it is not everyday that a maiden from Quid Isle visits the Red Keep." he added, offering his arm for you to take.

"It is a long journey." you were quick to answer, holding his arm as you both strolled down the gardens. Your father's castle used to have a garden exactly like this - but all the flowers have wilted now. Its beauty was forced to remain in your memory.

"I can only imagine," he hummed - still staring at your face.

There was a look in his eyes, telling you that he was interested.

He kept staring at you and you found yourself staring at him in return, waiting until he opened his mouth again. "You're very beautiful." he observed, moving a strand of hair away from your face.

"T-thank you." you surprise yourself by stuttering.

Gods, you've always been eloquent but what you were about to do was making you nervous.

You turned to look at the table behind you, sprinkling the secret powder on one of the lemon cakes.

"Lemon cake?" you offered, holding the pastry up with a smile.

"Sure," he agreed, not bothering to take the pastry from your hands - instead taking a small bite while you were still holding it.

The way he licked his lips made shivers run down your spine. You were indeed making the right choice. "Is it good?" you raised an eyebrow, waiting for that grumble on your stomach that told you that the spell was working.

"They taste different today." he admits, chewing at the sweet treat - surprised at the slight specks of saltiness. It brought the sweet flavor out, but it was the first time he's tasted lemon cakes like this.

"Good or bad?" you inquired.

Your stomach grumbles. His pupils dilate.

"Good," he says.

The love potion has indeed worked. He's looking at you the same way that the moon looks at the sun. There was a smile on his face, a soft and gentle smile only given to those feeling pure love. "You should try one, my lady." he offers, and you nod - doing exactly that.

"Is the court to your satisfaction?" he asked, unable to stare at anything other than you. "It is beautiful, my lord, especially the gardens. I've never seen anything quite like it." you smiled.

He admires the innocence in your eyes.

Your smile makes him want to smile too.

"Our gardens pale in comparison to Highgarden. Mayhaps, one day I shall take you there." he made a promise. You are slightly taken aback by the potency of your love potion.

"Take me there?" you repeated his last words.

"If it is your will, my lady." his hands rubbed circles on the back of your waist. "It is unbecoming, especially from an unmarried maiden. I wish not to impose, my prince." your mind returned to marriage.

Our last gamble.

"Oh yes, unmarried." he reminded himself. He takes a step backwards, a wave of clarity crashing through his features. You worried for a second that the love potion lost its effect, if it weren't for the look in his eyes - utterly dedicated and in love.

"I must leave to attend my business with the Gold Cloaks. Do not stray too far in the gardens, I shall talk to you later." he vows.

"Yes, my prince." was the only thing that you could say.

Daemon was fascinated but now he was sure that he was in love. Ever since he spoke to you in the gardens - you're the only thing that he thinks about. When he drinks wine, he wonders about the types of wine that you like. When he reads a book, he thinks about what your favorite books are.

Even a chore a simple as breathing makes him think about you.

As the months occurred, he's spent every living second beside you. Braiding your hair, reading books about his ancestry. He's even taught you a few things about sword-fighting.

He's defenseless against your love.

There was no escape.

"I intend to marry the Lady Hendrik." Daemon boldly announces in front of his brother. He was a million times sure that you were the woman he wanted to spend his eternity with. "I beg your pardon?" Viserys gazes up from his miniature version of Old Valyria.

"You've been pestering me about marriage ever since that Bronze Bitch died. I've finally made my choice. Lady Hendrik, the Master of Coin's daughter." Daemon emphasized.

Viserys' eyebrows merged together.

"Have you spoken to her?" Viserys inquired, surprised at his brother's sudden enthusiasm towards you. "I have." Daemon responds.

"How many conversations have you had with her?" Viserys follows up, a little skeptical but otherwise relieved that his brother has found love. "It matters not, she is the best choice. She is set to inherit her father's island. It shall keep me out of your way." Daemon argues.

"Lady Royce inherited the Runestone. What makes you think that this lady of yours is going to be different than the last?" Viserys queries, poking through his brother's resolve - trying to look for holes. He does not wish to grant annulment or mend Daemon's losses when the time comes that he falls out of love.

"I will wed the Lady Hendrik. We will live in Quid Isle." Daemon ignores his brother's question. His destiny already written in stone.

"There isn't anything that could stop you anyways." Viserys agrees, finding no other reason to disagree.

"Speak to her father. Make sure that he agrees." Viserys adds, returning his attention to his little Old Valyria.

"Your father has agreed to an engagement between us." Daemon announced from behind you, and suddenly your eyes light up. "Really?" happiness was leaking from your voice.

Your happiness, gives him happiness.

"I thought that what we had was merely friendship. You've really proved yourself, my prince." you smiled, as he presses your foreheads together. Your smile sinks to the floor, that feeling of guilt threatening to make your heart explode.

He doesn't actually love you. It's the potion.

"Is everything alright?" he inquired, his eyes flooding with worry.

I'm a horrible person for making him something that he is not.

All the nobles and maesters have fawned over his loyalty to me. The way he stares at me with love and adoration. He's not spoken to any other maiden except me. He refuses to dance with anyone but me.

When he realizes that this is all an enchantment, will he hate me?

"Darling," he repeats that term of endearment.

You snap out of the trance.

"I need a moment." you break free from the embrace. Sprinting towards the direction of your room. "Sure," you hear him mumble.

Once the doors to your chambers were shut - the tears flowed. "I'm sorry," you mumbled while laying on your bed, covering your body with the layers of blanket and furs. "I'm sorry," you kept repeating.

I'm a horrible person.

You've toyed with the very will of the gods, made Prince Daemon fall in love with you and act uncharacteristically - all for what? So you wouldn't starve when all the gold in your father's coffers runs out? There were thousands of small-folks starving everyday, their lives are lost to famine - all the while you worry about not living in luxury.

It was another day for you in paradise.

Even if your father died, you'd still live a comfortable life - as long as you didn't live above your means.

You shouldn't have done that to Daemon.

And the worst part was, you loved him - loved him with your entire heart. He was a constellation to you. You've never loved anyone as deeply as you've loved him.

But you betrayed him!

Betrayed the man that offered you jewelry and pretty dresses. Betrayed the man that looks at you with warmth.

You sniffle, slowly rising above the pile of blankets on your bed.

You march to your vanity, beginning to concoct a potion that will reverse your love spell.

You needed to make things right.

Daemon stares at the small hidden lake. It was something that his ancestors consecrated to have a piece of Old Valyria. The lake had magical powers, some say that it cures disease, but to him - it was the only thing that could convince him that gods were real.

"Ever since I was a little boy, I'd stare at this pond and feel peace." he explains, placing his hands inside of the lake - allowing that mystical feeling to wash over him. "They say that it is a piece of Valyria." he continues telling you the story.

These past few days, you've been avoiding him like a plague. When he meets your eyes - he sees nothing but sadness. He wishes that taking a bath in this lake would bring peace to you, or mayhaps cure the sadness that you've been feelings - you refuse to tell him what.

"Thank you for bringing me here. Dragonstone is beautiful." you were quick to thank, but your eyes were focused on the ground.

"Why do you evade my gaze?" he inquires, holding your chin with a finger - and lifting it so you'd meet his eyes. "We are going to be husband and wife soon." he announces, and that makes you flinch.

"I know," you hum.

"If you're scared of living Quid Isle - I promise you that we'll live there after the wedding." he points out one of the possible reasons as to why you were sad. "- I am much prepared to eat fish and chickens until I die." he smiles, and that sparkle returns to your eyes.

"Get in the water." he commands with a chuckle. "No," you shake your head - feeling his hand on your shoulder - threatening to pull you down. "Daemon," you warned, holding onto his forearm.

An involuntary giggle escapes your mouth, and you both plunge into the cold lake. That grumble in your stomach returns. Magic?

You hold onto him, unable to reach the bottom of the lake floor. "You are a cruel lord," you teased wrapping your arms around him.

He takes a second longer - still staring at your face. With that same lovestruck impression as the day you first met.

"Daemon," you say his name.

"I love you." he says out of the blue, burying his face on your nape.

For a second, his voice sounds deeper - his words more meaningful than usual. It almost made you doubt yourself.

You were about to lose everything.

Today is the day that you give him the reverse potion.

"Lemon cake?" you offer, holding the pastry with a forced smile. Daemon's hands found the small of your waist. "I don't want one." he shakes his head, instead choosing to take a sip of his wine.

"Are you sure?" your eyebrows merged together.

Why was he refusing your effort?

"I don't really like eating pastries, my love." he covers his smile with another sip of wine. He's been looking at you with more adoration, lately. He's been more dutiful than before. Always opening the door for you, always carrying your books, and of course, helping with the planning of your wedding.

"But I seem to remember that our love story began with a lemon cake?" you try to persuade him. A lemon cake is also how it ends.

"I've not had the stomach for anything as of the late. I'm sorry, dearest." he tries to say no as politely as he could. "But you have to eat it, please, for me?" you resorted to begging.

"No," he responds as petulantly as he could muster.

"Daemon," you say firmly this time.

Don't make it harder than it has to be. Eat it and hate me forever.

"Give me one good reason?" he says. His voice telling you that he knew something that you didn't. "Because your future wife wills it." you insist, and he sighs - taking a bite of the lemon cake.

He eats it with a smile, watching your features carefully.

"Does it taste good?" you found yourself asking the same questions as before. "Yes," he responds - chewing softly. "How do you feel?" you inquired, worried about his wellbeing.

"Why are you asking, little flower?" his grip is firm on your waist, ignoring the looks that you were both getting. It was a behavior unbecoming of unmarried people, even if you were engaged.

"Nothing," you shake your head. "Do you still love me?" you found yourself carefully asking, masking it with sweetness just in case the potion wasn't in full effect yet. "I think that the potion takes a while to settle, my lady." he smiles, saying those string of words in a whisper.

You nod your head involuntarily until his words sink in.

The potion takes a while to settle.

"What?" your voice suddenly turns an octave higher.

"You are adorable." he muses, laughing.

"How long have you known?" the words spill out of your mouth. "It wore off when we swam in the lake of Dragonstone." he explains.

"So you've been pretending to love me these past few days?" you ask, guilt eating you whole. "I've not been pretending." he confirms.

"I'm sorry, I didn't have a choice. Our family isn't as rich as we appear to be, I-my father... I mean I thought that marrying you was the only way my family would be secure. But I love you and my conscience will not allow you to live in lie." you apologized, the tears pooling.

"Hate me if you want to. Have me executed for treason if you must..." you rambled but he silences you with a finger to your lips.

"You didn't need that spell." he says tenderly. His eyes still held that warmth, the promise to love you for more than a lifetime.

"I was enamored with you even without it." he chuckles, wiping the tears away from your eyes. "What?" you were confused. "- you need not to go through with the wedding." you add.

"But I wish to marry you, my lady." he takes the upper hand.

Oh, he's been long aware of your house's financial problems - it was one of the few reasons that Viserys chose your father as Master of Coin. He couldn't bare to see a friend of his suffering. And Daemon, well he's been drawn to you since you first stepped inside the castle.

You were magnetic and you made good company.

"Adorable," he hummed - pulling your face closer to his and silencing you with a deep and long kiss.

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litchifaerie · 3 months

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Guilty as Sin [Aemond Targaryen]

pairing: aemond targaryen x niece!reader (unspecified dad)

warnings: fluff, very little angst, not Daemon's daughter but she has silver hair, ooc!aemond (?), "i burn for you" typa confession. niece!reader strikes again.

word count: 3.3k

After the incident of Driftmark, it was a known fact that the family of the dragon has now broken into two factions, namely: The Hightower Greens and The Targaryen Blacks. Young Prince Lucerys had somehow managed to blind his uncle, Prince Aemond, in an act of what rumours say to be “self defence”. The family damaged beyond repair went on to live separately, no longer finding joy in maintaining the facade of a “happy joint family” to appease their king. Now years later, the question of inheritance of Driftmark is raised. Lord Corlys Velaryon is feared to be nearing his death and thus Vaemond Velaryon has raised a petition for himself to be declared the heir instead of its true heir, Lucerys Velaryon.

When the Blacks made their home in Dragonstone it took them quite a while to settle in with its rough seas and jagged cliffs. In a few months everyone seemed to settle in well. Everyone except for Rhaenyra’s eldest child, her only daughter, you. Back at King’s Landing you loved the court. You loved meeting the ambassadors of kingdoms you had read about in books with Aemond. You loved sneaking around the castle at midnight with Aemond. Your bare feet hurriedly rushing over the cold of the stone floors in search of some leftover lemon cakes in the kitchens. You loved sewing with Helaena and learning the names of her friendly little creatures. You and Aemond were perhaps the only companions she had growing up.

Yes, yes, you missed Aemond even more so. And now six years later, here you are, sitting in the carriage with your mother and step-father awaiting to reach the Red Keep soon. You’re busy gazing out the windows, looking at how much King’s Landing has changed. I wonder if that jeweller still has a shop in the city market. Lost in your thoughts you jump a little when you hear your mother speak. “Do keep an eye on your brothers there. Daemon and I have some matters to attend with the King the moment we reach. I do not want those two to pick a fight with your uncles.” Rhaenyra speaks calmly.

You nod with a polite “Of course mother”. And with a moment of hesitation, you ask “Is it alright if I invite Helaena for an afternoon tea, perhaps even a play date for her twins and little Viserys and Aegon? Please allow it mother! It has been ages since I last saw her! I wish to see my baby cousins and catch up with my dear aunt…” Rhaenyra can never say no to your pleading eyes. She only chuckles “yes my dear you may”.

It wasn’t a long while before the carriage came to a stop. A knight comes to open the door for you. “No one to greet us hmm” murmurs Daemon. His ability to remain stoic sometimes makes him seem invisible even in close proximity. He steps out first, helping you and your mother down next. Jace and Luce come rushing begging to go to the training grounds. “Boys”, you call out, “Mother and Father have some matter to attend to. Now if we may, lets see how the knights here train at King’s Landing.” With that you just turn around and they follow you like ducklings, ever the obedient little brothers.

You make your way to the training yard, looking around and seeing specks of your past. It all seemed like a far away dream now. How happily the boys played fight together, with you dabbling in some swordplay at times. Distant shouts of cheers catch your attention and you look their way. “Seems like there’s a fight going on” Jace remarks. And Luce replies energetically “Lets go see how the knights fare then” and drags you both towards the crowd.

A clash of swords and flurry of movements of men later you are able to catch a glimpse of long silver hair. A Targaryen. Long hair and a fine swordsman? Can’t be Aegon. That leaves the 2 others. And as you get closer you recognise his silhouette. It took you a little time but you can spot him anywhere still. It’s not your eyes that tell you of his identity but your heart. Its him. Yes, it is. Its Aemond.

“Well done my prince. In no time will you be participating in Tourneys.” Says the knight, who if your memory serves right must be Ser Criston Cole. “I don’t give a shit about tourneys” Aemond replies trying to gather himself after that tiring display of amazing swordsmanship. And then he spots you. At first Aemond believed it to be untrue. His mind had played many such games with him through the period of your absence. The Gods were cruel to not only rob him of his eye but also his dearest friend the same night. Maybe he stared at you a moment too long because that was enough for Jace to step in front of you and shield you from his uncle's view. At that Aemond seems to snap back to reality. “Nephews, come to train? Shall we see who has turned into a better swordsman these past 6 years.” He clearly is still looking to pick fights. You put your hand on Jace’s shoulder “Do not engage he just wants to rile you up”.

The crowd whispers amongst itself. Do you see that? The sons of the Queen and Princess do not get along. Are the whispers true then- You think you need to squash these whisperings now by a show of goodwill. You walk towards Aemond in the “dainty” manner a proper Lady should approach a Lord. “Uncle” you come to a halt just a bit away from Aemond, a few inches closer than it is deemed appropriate. “How have you been? I see the years have been kind to you. The tales of your growing talent of sparring has reached Dragonstone. And I am happy to say those words do no justice to your skill. You’re much better than what they lead us to believe.” Flattery. Heaps of it. So what if it’s a little backhanded. I need to patch things up even if it’s a little. “Dear niece” Aemond raises your hand to place a kiss on your knuckles “Ever the beauty. That must mean the tales of Lords and Knights fighting over a chance to court you must be true then?” and all you can do is chuckle. Oh so he will play this game then. “You flatter me too much my prince. I was wondering if you and Princess Helaena would have your afternoon tea with me. I’ve missed you incredibly. And I just can’t wait to meet little Jaehaera and Jaehaerys”

Ser Cole places his hand on the prince’s arm, “Perhaps some other day Princess. Prince Aemond has some mat-”. “Yes I will” Aemond butts in before Cole can finish. “Very well then” you fold your hands together. “I shall take my leave now. The journey here was rather long and tiring”. You look behind you to see the astonished faces of your brothers. You know what thy must be thinking. What the fuck is going on in her head? “Come Jace. Come Luce. Let us go freshen up. Mother is waiting for us” You wait for your brothers to take one of your arms each. And you leave just like that. Maintaining eye contact with Aemond for as long as it was societally acceptable of you to look his way without it spurring rumours.

Are her hips swaying? Is what Aemond notices as he watches you leave. With a smirk on his face his last thought is: You’re home now zaldrītsos.

You walk with your brothers to your room, both of them still silent, a little surprised at your actions that’s all. You’re at your door when you turn around “Brothers if you may. Please go to your respective rooms and tell your servants how you’ll like your rooms arranged. The long jouney has taken a toll on me and I wish to be alone.” They know that tone. They know what you say is less of a suggestion and is most definitely a command. And they know better than to cross you when you’re tired. Being short tempered is something you have learned from Daemon while growing up. He truly was your father in every way imaginable except biologically.

Once in the comforts of your room you let a deep beath out. And there it is on your bed. You hoped it would be. The letter with the blue wax seal on it. A sapphire blue.

“Welcome back dear niece.

The crown jewel has finally returned to the court.

See you in the evening.”

~ A. T.

It’s evening now and in another part of the Keep, Aemond seems to overhear a very important conversation on his way to his sister. One about the matter of your betrothal. “Those Hightower cunts” Daemon seethes openly. Mother? Aemond hides behind a pillar in the seemingly deserted corridor while he heard his uncle openly badmouth his “kin” without any care of who might hear. The doors to the chamber were left ajar. “When you suggested y/n be betrothed to Aegon and Jace to Helaena. She refused the very moment it was suggested. Appalled that such a proposal can even be made. And now when we are here to have the king’s blessing to betroth Jace to y/n, the so called Hand has already made a suggestion for a match between that one eyed boy knight and our daughter!” Rhaenyra is just silent. Daemon seethes in his anger. But all Aemond focuses on is that he could have your hand if his mother finds a way. And also, a little angry that Jacaerys Velaryon, rather Strong, might covet what’s his.

Fuelled by what he refuses to call jealousy, the prince makes his way through the Keep. With only one destination in mind, he storms through the corridors paying no mind to the strange looks he receives. And its as if he is 10 again, knocking at the doors of his beloved friend. But now he is a man of 19, and she is more than his friend. She is his destiny and he will have her.

You’re busy taking your heavy necklace off, opting to wear long delicate crystal earring instead which matches the long flowy gown you changed into for the tea when you notice the knocks. Thinking its your ladies-in-waiting you yell out a “Come in.” Setting the necklace on top of the dresser, you’re surprised to find Aemond’s reflection staring at you through the mirror. “My prince” you turn to face him, still sitting at your vanity, “Aren’t you here a little early for the tea?”

“Hmm…” Aemond just hums in reply and sits on the settee nearby, “I’ve come to know of an interesting proposition regarding you my niece”. That was enough to have your attention, “And what that might be Aemond?” you cock an eyebrow at him. “You’re going to be betrothed by the time your stay here ends”. You’re a little stunned but you expected this coming. Your mother has given you the liberty to choose who you might marry but you won’t do so at the expense of her political foothold. Marriage cannot always be for love and you will follow your duty like the honorable Princess of the realm you are if that is what’s required of you. “Yes, I’m aware” you tell him plainly. “I think they have Jacaerys in mind.”

“And you have no issue regarding it” Aemond asks, finding himself to be a little unnerved at your calm demeanour. “No issue whatsoever?” And you can’t help but sigh “It is what is expected of me uncle. Targaryens are known to marry their siblings. Look at yours. I always knew that there might be a possibility of me marrying Jacaerys. I am my mother’s firstborn. Her heir. But I am not a son. She only seeks to squash any problem that might raise for when I ascend the throne by marrying me to her firstborn son.”

“He’s not worthy of you. None of those plain-featured boys. You’re more valyrian than they are with your silver hair.” Aemond speaks out. “If I were you, I would watch my tongue Aemond. Don’t want you to lose your other eye due to your idiocy.” You say casually while combing through your hair.

Aemond was a little sick of your nonchalant attitude. How can you agree to this match? Why do you seem so fine? Why are you willing to go through with this? All he can do is sit in silence, his eye refusing to watch your figure, his ego stopping him from expressing what he wants. But you know what he wants, and you want him to say it out loud.

You get up from the vanity, your silver hair in loose waves, the setting sun casting an ethereal glow around you. You look like the very picture of an angel to Aemond with a halo behind you. And suddenly all he can see is you, all he can breathe is you. You’re close, too close to him, his knees are touching your leg as you stand in front of him. The door to your room is only closed shut and not locked. One can just simply walk in and catch you.

Your fingers ghost over his cheek, trailing up to his eyepatch. “Does it hurt now?” he hears you say. There is no pity on your face, just curiosity. And your touch is so delicate, so soothing. “Not as much. Sometimes when I have worked myself too hard a sharp sensation shoots up but then subsides in a while”. And now its your turn to hum. Bringing your other hand to his other cheek you gently cup his face. And Aemond’s lone eye meets yours.

His eye seems so vacant. But if I look hard enough, I can catch a glimpse of the young boy who chased me through the gardens. “Can I see it. Your eye?” you rub your thumb against his cheek. Affection. Aemond bring his hand up to reach for yours, the one on the side of the maimed eye. “It is ugly. It might frighten a lady.” He hesitates. She will take one look at me in my hideous glory and never look my way again.

“Not to me. Especially when its you.” That sentence holds a lot more meaning and truth than what one might think and you only hope Aemond understands. And Aemond does what you ask of him. He gently removes his eyepatch waiting for you to let out a gasp. He wants to close his eyes for your inevitable disgusted expression but he cannot look away from you. He looks at every muscle you move on your face but he doesn’t see a grimace, instead could it be, is it awe?

A soft smile graces your face, wildly different from what he anticipated it to be. “The sapphire compliments your features nicely. I hope the gem isn’t uncomfortable?” He is dumbstruck for a minute. “No, it doesn’t, I always wanted to thank you in person for this gift.” When his eye healed, Aemond was surprised to find the city’s most famous jeweller with a chest full of his best gems waiting for him in his mother’s parlour. A reparation I suppose, the queen had said, the Velaryon girl wrote this letter saying how “sorry" she was for her brother’s action and expresses her regret for not being able to defend you against her brother. He wanted you to be there with him when he woke the next day, he remembered your crying face when the master said Aemond’s maimed eye can’t be repaired. It’s worth it y/n. I lost an eye but gained the biggest dragon that there is.

You resume rubbing your thumb gently over his scar and that’s what brings him back. “No man, no matter how noble he is, deserves you”. “Then who does my prince? Pray tell”, you say. You know his answer. Just say it Aemond. I beg you. “I have a duty to the crown Aemond”, dropping your hands from his face, you walk away from him. “And I will do it, even if I don’t wish to.”

Aemond was furious “How can you be so blind? Do you not see my pain?”. Your back was turned to him and you closed your eyes in frustration. You turn to look at him, with angry tears in your eyes, “I am tired of waiting for you!” you yell, “These past years have been agonising. It hurt not to be around you. But those letters kept me going. Our secret exchanges were what I kept looking forward to every week.” Aemond’s chest is just heaving. “And just when I thought that there’s a sliver of chance you feel the same-”

“I do.” Aemond interrupts you. He reaches forward to hold you but you back away. “Then why Aemond” there’s a slight tremble in your voice. “Thousands of lords and knights came to have my hand. And I rejected every single of them, hoping that you will present yourself in front of my parents and ask for me. You claim to have affection for me but I don’t see it.” You cut him off before he has a chance to explain.

“I’ll show my love for you” is all the silver haired prince says before tugging you to him harshly and planting his lips on yours. Its wild, full of passion and fury. The kiss seems to ignite something in you. Both your inner dragons coming to life and breathing out fire. He’s burning you with the force of the emotions the kiss conveys.

Although you feel breathless you still craved more of him. Your hand went at the base of his neck, tangling at his roots. You drag him even close if that’s possible. Aemond’s one hand is around your throat, controlling your movement, dominating you completely. His other strongly grips your waist keeping you in place. Your lips move together in perfect synchronisation although there seems to be a bite here and there.

The Targaryens are only gods because of their dragons. Right now, right here, were two young lord and lady lost in each other and were in dire need of air yet unwilling to be apart, fearing what comes next. You’re the first to break the kiss. The evidence of your passion is seen on Aemond’s swollen red wet lips and messy hair and you can only imagine yours to look the same.

Aemond leans his head against yours, your foreheads touching. His eyes are closed in pleasure and a rare smile graces his leeps but all you can do is admire him through your eyelashes. “Make me your wife” you call out softly. “Ask my mother for my hand. I do not wish to marry Jacaerys…he is too much of a brother. It is you I want. I’ll fight for you if needed be” Aemond opens his eyes at that. “Silly girl”, he says, “The Queen has asked the King for our match to be made.” Your brows furrow in confusion, “My mother agrees?” Aemond brings a hand to caress your face, “I think she does. Daemon on the other…” Even you become anxious at that statement. “My uncle is a challenge I welcome” he continues, “Nothing can keep me away from you. I’ve waited years for this, I can’t let go of you now.”

You can’t help but smile. You loved Aemond but marrying him meant going against what your mother had taught you. Knowing the distaste Daemon held for the members of green party, and thinking of your brothers’ action against Aemond made you feel immensely guilty. But you waited all these years, you were the exceptional daughter all this while, ever obedient, ever graceful. Never a hair out of place. Always the perfect princess. And if Aemond is the treason you commit against your family, then you will happily be guilty as sin.

#jia.writes ♡#would tremendously appreciate your thoughts on this. i need criticism to do better next time. reblogs and likes are much appreciated too!!#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen oneshot #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fluff #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon

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asumofwords · 1 year

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Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Hello angels! Here is the next chappy hehe, goodness me, I am so glad that we all enjoyed the last chapter haha! What a ride this has been honestly, you all crack me up ahaha <3 Enjoy!

Chapter 99: To Set The Future Sway

Aemond Targaryen had been ten years old when he lost his eye.

That year he had been gifted new tomes from his grandfather Otto, and his mother had lemon tarts freshly made for him as a treat, the boy too shy to tell her that they were not in fact his favourite, but yours.

He had snuck down to the dragon pit that day with you to eat them, watching as Syrax’s golden scales glimmered in the flames of the pit, large glimmering dragon purring and growling in the darkness.

It had been a great challenge for a child so young to be put through such a horrific and traumatic experience as having ones eye taken. What was more, the actions of his family afterwards, and the dealings of their response thereafter did naught but rub salt in the proverbial wound.

Neither adult had reacted in a way that helped Aemond. In fact, it only served to prove as a further detriment to him, and his view of the world.

But more than that, watching you, his only companion at such a formative age, stand alongside his attackers, bastards, and declare for them instead of him had hardened something inside of the young Prince. Made it curdle and fester, calcifying rapidly as the spite that had grown within him became malignant.

You had protected them. Them. They who had mocked and teased him for years, them and his brother; who stood idly beside him, having not come to his defence out of the fear and wrath of their father.

His view of the world, of people, of his family and what little friends he had, had been inexplicably scarred that evening, much like his face. He walked with more careful steps, more angry movements, and had grown into a bitter and spiteful man, only aided by his mothers disdain and words of encouragement in his ears.

But Aemond had not let his disability strike him down, he had simply grown himself around it. He trained harder, for longer, making a promise to himself that he would never be bested like that again, never be struck down without striking first.

And to never hold back.

Where others would look at him in fear, he would play to it, own it, make himself a man to not be trifled with. A man his brother even feared at times, not that he could fear him any longer. A man that women would whisper about in court, and the men would avert their eyes from.

He needed it that way.

To feel safe.

After the many years of your separation, being dragged to Dragonstone without even a chance to say goodbye, seeing Aemond again in the Red Keep had struck many chords within your chest.

Grief. Sorrow. Anger. Rage. Remorse. Guilt.

Fear.

But as you looked into his seeing, and unseeing eye in this moment, you felt none of those things.

Instead, you felt something entirely different.

Shock. Disbelief. Pride. Adoration.

Love.

The Conquerors Crown that sat snugly against Aemond’s head, did not look at all heavy where it had on Aegon’s. It seemed as though it was an extension of Aemond. An extension of his every being, a manifestation of the man he had built himself to be.

The smooth Valyrian steel did not make his long silver locks stick up in different ways, his tendrils were still held in place, held by the braids you had encouraged him to wear.

Aemond’s violet and sapphire gaze had not left your face once since seating himself upon the Iron Throne, nor when you had placed the Conquerors Crown atop his head. The King’s fingertips had brushed the skin of your cheek, smearing the wetness that had landed there.

The blood that had landed there.

But Aemond was not unmarred by the killing of his brother. He too wore the red substance on his face and robes, the lightest of arterial spray that has streaked up his face diagonally, in the motion that his sword had cut through the flesh and bone of Aegon’s neck.

The small specks of blood on his cheeks were drying rapidly from the heat of his face, oxidising and growing darker, small cracks and flakes appearing in the smattering.

And yet despite this, despite the fact that you most certainly should have felt some sort of horror and disgust towards him, you could not, and your heart had fluttered in your chest as you looked at your husband in triumph.

In hunger.

He had done this for you.

A final show of his devotion and love.

Your head turned to look down the steps of the Iron Throne, gaze skimming over a distressed Alicent Hightower, who sat hunched over her eldest son crying, whilst Otto and Ser Cole stood nearby. And then your gaze shifted, over to the Lords and Maester who looked at both scenes before them with uncertainty. Fear.

Turning back to face your husband, you called out loudly into the chambers.

“King Aemond Targaryen, First of His Name, Son of King Viserys the First, King of the Stormland’s, Westerland’s and the Reach, Ruler of Oldtown, The Andals, Rhoynar and the First Men, King of the People of Kings Landing, and Protector of His Realms.”

The Small Council muttered amongst themselves as you looked out at the room beside him. All Lords, guards and knights bent the knee, bowing their head down towards their new crowned King. Even Ser Otto Hightower bowed, but Alicent looked up at her son in disbelief.

You turned back to your husband, hungrily watching him, a wave of warmth flooding you.

He had done this for you.

He had killed Aegon for you.

Aemond was King.

Your husband.

“My King.” You breathed quietly, eyes roaming his face hungrily.

Sensing your intentions, Aemond’s voice boomed into the chambers.

"Clear the room.” He commanded, voice crisp and clear, and all men obeyed.

Alicent however, did not, and had to be dragged from the corpse of her eldest, sobbing into her fathers arms as she muttered prayers to the Seven through hiccups, and curses at the two of you.

The chambers were emptied, bar you and Aemond, and the corpse of the once King that still lay, untouched on the stone floors before the throne. Your eyes cast backwards to look at the body, a sick smile spreading across your lips, before you looked back at your husband, who devoured you with his lone eye.

Your core clenched, watching him intensely as heat settled into your gut.

He had killed Aegon for you. Before everyone. Before his mother.

His last sibling.

And for you.

All for you.

Your Aemond.

Aemond pulled you forward with his hand, and you climbed up onto the throne in his lap, knees pressed against the leather of his cloak below you. Your fingers raced to untie his breeches, neither of you daring to break the eye contact you held.

His length was hard and heavy in your palm as you pulled it out of its confines, tip already leaking heavily with precum.

Killing his brother had aroused him.

Being crowned had aroused him.

The violence of it all, the triumph, the ending of years of suffering and mocking making way to a new time of power and strength. Autonomy. Each aspect of it had made him throb in his breeches before he had even sat on the throne.

You pumped him in your hand quickly, a breathy sigh falling from his lips as his large palms skated up your thighs warmly, calluses scratching your soft skin, before they dived beneath your skirts, feeling your already drenched folds.

It had aroused you too.

Aemond smirked up at you, cheek twitching as two digits rubbed through your folds slickly, “All this for killing my brother?”

You sighed, squirming in his lap, pleasure sparking up through your gut, "All for you.” You breathed.

A finger pushed through your folds and into your core, hooking upwards to rub against the spongey spot Aemond could find within seconds, “So wet for your King.” He purred, shifting his hips upwards as you gave him a particularly hard squeeze.

The words caused a shiver to race down your spine, your hips lifting, Aemond pulling his finger from inside of you as you lined him up with your sopping entrance. Your uncle watched your face, a hand coming to bush against your cheek, the blood upon it drying and beginning to flake as you sunk down onto his length with a sigh.

Aemond groaned loudly in the chambers as pleasure shot through you, Aemond’s cock reaching deeper with the angle, brushing against your fluttering walls, the stretch of him sparking delicious pain through you.

Slowly but surely you began to ride him, hands atop his shoulders as you looked at him. Despite him sitting and you on his lap, he was still taller than you, but your faces were levelled as you ground down on his length, his head dipping, feeling your wetness begin to pool in his lap.

The throne room was filled with the sound of your wet heat and the moans and groans that came from the both of you as you fucked yourself atop him. Rewarding him for his actions. Rewarding yourself for getting him to do so. Desperate to reach your peak as adrenaline still coursed through you.

“My King.” You whined, eyes closing momentarily as you threw your head back, sensitive bud brushing against the soaked material of his breeches.

Aemond groaned loudly, hands coming to grab the flesh of your ass as he guide you down onto him harder and faster, “Say it again.” He groaned, eye on your face.

“My King.” The head of his cock bullied the deepest part of you, every single inch of him brushing against your most sensitive places as you felt him in your stomach, your release beginning to climb within you rapidly.

Aemond fucked up into you harder, feeling your walls begin to tighten, hips lifting slightly on the seat of the Iron Throne, your fingers digging into his shoulder for purchase.

“My sweet, Lady wife.” He purred, rushing forward to capture your lips with his.

It was messy, and rushed, full of passion, and devotion and love. He nipped your lips and you whimpered into his mouth, one hand skating up to brush against the skin of his neck, pulling him closer.

The change in angle shifted, and Aemond’s length beat into the spongey spot within you, the pressure rippling up through your body as you reached your peak suddenly.

You cried out loudly, writhing atop his lap as he fucked you through it, hips clapping up into yours.

“My Queen.” He grunted, rutting into you viciously and prolonging your release. Aemond thrusted a few times more before he tumbled over the edge with you, hot ropes of his seed filling your walls as you clenched around him.

“Fuck.”

You breathed heavily, warmth flooding your limbs as you slumped against him, his fingers digging into the meat of your ass as he gently rocked you back and forth atop him, riding out his peak for as long as possible.

As you stilled atop him, core still gripping his length tightly, you felt the adrenaline begin to simmer, your body and mind rapidly tiring from the weight of it all.

You pulled your face away from his chest and looked up at your husband.

Your King.

King.

Your fingers brushed against his pale cheek, where the lightest dusting of freckles that had faded with time were still there, only now, they were covered with a dusting of blood. Your eyes raised higher, and you looked to the crown that sat as it was meant to be atop his head.

He was so handsome. So beautiful. And yours.

Always yours.

From the training yard, to the passageways, to the library, and the kitchen, and the garden, Aemond Targaryen had always been yours. And would be yours forever more.

Fire and blood, as the Gods had made it so.

You would burn together.

Your chest swelled with warmth, looking at the deeper flecks of lilac that sat in his iris whilst his mouth was slightly parted, breathing shallowly as he watched you. You leant forward, pressing a kiss to each cheek, feather light as it were, his body shivering beneath you, and then atop his seeing eyelid, feeling the long white lashes tickle your lips.

Then, to his scar, kissing a pathway to travel up the length of it gently, careful to not hurt him. You had felt him tense beneath you when you did it, but the more you pressed a kiss to the length of the healed wound, the more and more he relaxed.

Finally, you pressed your lips to his own.

“You were made to be King.” You purred as you kissed him, hand cupping the side of his cheek as he leant into it. He hummed deeply, chest vibrating against yours as his fingers dug into the flesh of your ass.

Desperate to show him the warmth that you felt for him, you kissed sweetly at his mouth, soft quick ones that left him chasing after you for more, “I love you.” You cooed, hoping that he felt your thanks.

Your praise.

Your adoration.

His lips parted against yours as he smiled, and you pulled back, bare inches to see it, warmth creeping back into your core.

The King leant forward to kiss you, his lips breaking the tenderness for a moment to breath into your own, “And you, my Queen.”

Your walls tightened around him, arousal sparking back inside of you. Aemond tilted his hips up slowly, grinding into you with purpose, and you felt him begin to harden again.

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ichorai · 1 year

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number 13 ; rhaenyra targaryen.

track thirteen of BROKEN MACHINE.

pairing ; rhaenyra targaryen x lannister!f!reader

synopsis ; in another life, she could’ve been with you, she was sure. a life of bliss and a life not ruled by the laws of men.

words ; 5.4k

themes ; angst, mild fluff

warnings / includes ; takes place from e3-8, rhaenyra and reader are bisexual, allusions to sex, infidelity, foul language, lots of time jumps sorry ;-; nearly two decades is crammed into this, reader is later married to jasper wylde and has his children, mentions of other hotd characters, jason lannister being annoying, not quite a happy ending cries :(

The celebration for Aegon’s second name day was in full swing. Large, lavish tents were erected, decorated with flowers and greenery of all sorts. Every which way you looked, there were tables full to the brim with cakes and pastries and cheeses, goblets of wines and platters of fruits. Outside the tents lined stalls offering roasted meats dripping with rich oils, exotic delicacies from Essos, and all sorts of extravagant animals parading for show.

You’d taken to watching the blue peacocks with muted fascination—it was the first time you’d seen birds that large. Sure, the doves at Casterly Rock grew plump and lazy, but they were no grand feat.

Your brothers, the lion twins of house Lannister, Jason and Tyland, stood by your side. They were bickering amongst themselves about who would be the first to speak to the Princess, Rhaenyra Targaryen. They weren’t being too quiet about it either, loudly proclaiming that the other twin would have to wait their turn.

“Toss a coin,” you boredly said, picking up a golden-green grape from a gilded tray on a nearby table and popping it into your mouth. “Though, knowing you two, you’d probably be too bull-headed to decide who gets heads and who gets tails.”

“I get heads!” both of them announced at once. They glared at each other for a moment, before Tyland propped his hands on his hips and blew out an exasperated sigh.

“Fine. You go first. The one that goes last will be the one that she remembers, anyway,” Tyland told his twin, his Lannister pride getting the better of him. He arched an eyebrow and jutted his chin out to the Princess, who’d just strode out of the tent.

You tore your eyes away from the ridiculous birds, fixing your gaze on Rhaenyra. Her hair shone a pearlescent white beneath the sun’s brilliance, nearly as bright as the golden rings she twirled about her fingers, hands clutched closely to the deep red bodice of her dress. She was a grand beauty, you surmised. It was no wonder your brothers were so desperate for her hand—though you were certain they only wanted her for the power that came with her rather than the Princess herself.

A smile twitched over your lips upon seeing Rhaenyra lean over the sweets, sneakily plucking a lemon slice off of one of the cakes, popping it into her mouth just as quickly as she had swiped it.

Off Jason went not a second later, content with speaking to her before his brother. In his mind, he was sure she’d fall in love with him on the spot—how could she consider anyone else when he could offer her anything she wanted? A handsome, strong husband, as much gold as she could yearn for, and the promise of children with golden-silver hair?

“She doesn’t look too pleased,” you murmured to Tyland, studying the way Rhaenyra’s features soured with distaste the longer Jason spoke.

The corner of his mouth tilted upwards in mild amusement, but he said nothing else. Instead, he slunk off to disappear within the tent, needing to speak to the King about urgent matters concerning Prince Daemon’s reckless endeavors.

Jason could feel his little sister’s stare bore into the back of his neck. It made him nervous, despite his larger-than-life ego—he itched to prove to his family that he was capable of winning the Princess over.

“Was your own second name day as grand as this?” he crowed, trying his best to appear nonchalant.

Barely sparing him a glance, Rhaenyra folded her fidgeting hands behind her back. She trained her eyes on the large bonfire situated across the field. “I honestly don’t recall, and neither will Aegon.” There was a twinge of disdain in her voice, but that went largely unnoticed by Jason.

“Lord Jason Lannister,” he said, bowing his head ever so slightly.

Rhaenyra half-smiled. “I gathered that from all the lions.”

Hastily, Jason chanced a look down at his apparel—he was decked in crimson and shimmering gold and embroidered lions of all sizes. He was practically a walking banner for his house. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.”

“Your twin serves on my father’s council,” Rhaenyra told him, narrowing her eyes in scrutiny.

Snapping his fingers, Jason beckoned for a servant to come forth and bring him a chalice of wine. “Tyland is frightfully dull, gods love him. My sister finds me far more entertaining.” It wasn’t a complete lie—Jason would often take you riding outdoors whilst Tyland took to reading in complete silence with you. Jason merely surmised that you enjoyed your time more with him rather than his twin. He plucked a goblet off the tray and held it out for Rhaenyra to taste. “The finest honeyed wine you’ll ever try. Made in Lannisport, of course.”

He didn’t catch the way Rhaenyra subtly rolled her eyes. “Of course,” she said. She took a small sip, humming mildly. It tasted like every other wine she’d had. A part of her wondered if the sister Jason had been talking about was around. Was she in the tent, amongst the women gossiping around the Queen Alicent? Immediately, her mood soured once more.

“The Kingswood is a fine hunting ground,” Jason started speaking again, eager to spark a flame between them. “But the best spot is to be found at Casterly Rock. Have you been?”

“Once,” Rhaenyra replied. “On a tour with my mother, when I was young. Honestly can’t recall much of that, either.”

With a grin, Jason kept boasting on, “The Rock is thrice the height of the Hightower in Oldtown, taller still than the Wall in the north.” He stepped closer to her. “It’s been said that if one were to stand in the tower on a perfect day, one could see clear across the Sunset Sea.”

“Must be quite something.”

“I don’t have a dragon pit, of course,” he said, voice lowering an octave, “but I do have the means and the resources to build one.”

Arching a brow, Rhaenyra leveled her eyes with his. Amethysts against emeralds. “Why would you need a dragon pit?”

“To house dragons, of course,” he bluntly replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I’d do anything for my Queen. Or… my lady wife.”

There was a beat of silence. Realization and anger flooded her features all at once moments later.

“Thank you for the wine,” she said with a stiff, polite smile, handing him the chalice. With that, she stormed off, making her way back to the tent.

You watched her disappear, before fixing your eyes on Jason. You wondered what in seven hells Jason had said to make her so upset. Knowing him, he’d probably soiled the mood with his ridiculous self-importance.

Inside the tent, Rhaenyra made a bee-line to her father, interrupting the conversation he was holding with Lyonel Strong and, as her rotten luck would have it, Tyland Lannister.

“Is that what I am to you?” she hissed. “A prize to proffer about to the great houses?”

Pursing his lips, the King calmly told his daughter, “You’re of age, Rhaenyra. And Jason Lannister is an excellent match.”

“He’s arrogant and self-serious!”

From behind the two, Tyland could barely hold back his victorious laugh.

“Well, I thought you might have that in common,” Viserys said. Rhaenyra recoiled with a scowl at his words, as if she’d been struck. “Since you came of age, I’ve been slowly drowning in a lake parchment flung from every corner of the realm. Marriage proposals, all. And I have tried, oh so often, to discuss it with you! But you’ve refused me at every turn!” His voice raised with frustration. Several curious heads turned to see what the commotion was.

Baring her teeth, Rhaenyra insisted, “That is because I do not wish to get married!”

“Even I do not exist above tradition and duty, Rhaenyra!” the King yelled.

Rhaenyra hotly spewed out a protest, but was quickly cut off by Otto Hightower. The two were reeled back in from their argument, noticing everybody’s prying eyes on them.

“You must marry,” said Viserys to Rhaenyra. And that was that.

He turned to Otto, asking what it was he needed to say, effectively dismissing Rhaenyra. The Princess angrily pushed her way out of the tent, the heels of her boots scuffing deep into the dirt once she exited.

“What do you think has got her knickers all twisted?” Jason asked, taking a large bite into a sizzling skewer of meat. The two of you watched as Rhaenyra made her way to the tethered horses beside the tent.

You shook your head, exasperated. “You’re such a fool, Jason. You know nothing about women. Did you even try to ask if she wanted to marry you, instead of presuming it to be so?” Before he could respond, you were already walking off, leaving your indignant older brother in your wake. You stopped by the sweet desserts on one of the long tables, picking up a delicate slice of lemon cake.

A coil of nervousness sat within the pits of your stomach as you approached the Princess. You were near the same age as Rhaenyra, if not just a few moons younger. If it were anyone else, you would’ve easily made friends without hesitation. But this was the Princess—she was royalty.

And it didn’t quite help that she was so beautiful.

“I’m sorry about him,” you said, pulling Rhaenyra’s attention away from the horses, to you. She spun the golden rings about her fingers in quick motions. She studied your face first, before darting down to the simple dark dress you were wearing, detailed with yellow embroidery. It took her a moment to realize that you were Jason and Tyland’s sister—you shared many physical similarities with your brothers, though Rhaenyra had to admit that you were far prettier than they were. “Jason is an imbecile. He thinks his own cock should be gilded with gold.”

Your words made Rhaenyra smile, the corner of her eyes crinkling as she laughed. A strange sort of pride festered within your chest.

“I take it the Lannister twins are your brothers?”

“Unfortunately, Princess.”

She hummed in amusement. Her eyes flickered to the cake you were holding.

“Would you, uhm—” You cleared your throat, a nervous flush creeping up your neck, spilling over the skin of your cheeks. “Would you like the lemon slice? I saw you nick one off before my brother came to you. I… I usually find it a bit too sour for my taste. Would be a waste for me to toss it away.”

After a moment of consideration, she nodded, and you held it out for her to take. She murmured a sound of content at the tart sourness, before shooting you a small smile.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” She fiddled with her rings as you absent-mindedly tugged at a loose thread on your dress. “I understand how you feel. I mean, obviously not as much pressure as you, I’m sure, but… my father wants to marry me off as soon as possible.”

Rhaenyra’s features softened ever so slightly. “It’s terrible. Fathers forcing us into marriages we don’t want. If I was born a man, none of this would be a problem.”

You turned your head to glance over at Jason, who had already moved on to flirting with other ladies of the court. “I’m glad I was not born a man. Or else, I’d be afeard of turning out like my idiot brothers.”

There it was again. Rhaenyra chortled at your words, her grin growing wider.

“I’m also glad you’re not like them. You’re far easier to talk to. Much less…”

“Of a Lannister?” It was your turn to laugh. You wrinkled your nose humorously. “Yes, there’s enough lions in our castle as it is. I’m content just being me.”

With a nod, Rhaenyra scanned her gaze along the crowd. “It was nice meeting you, Lady…”

“Y/N.”

Her violet irises glimmered. “It was nice meeting you, Lady Y/N. Thank you for the lemon. Enjoy the festivities.”

You nodded and gave her a slight curtsy, watching as she straddled one of the horses. A part of you wanted to ask where she was off to, but you wisely stayed silent, instead taking a bite of your cake. It was pleasantly sweet on your tongue, just slightly acidic with its aftertaste.

She gripped the horse’s reins and pressed her knees into its flank, urging it into a fast gallop. The Princess disappeared into the forest, Criston Cole shouting after her, hot on her heels.

During Rhaenyra’s tour for a husband—a tour that her father forced her into, one that she was not at all keen on—she made a stop at the Westerlands. Dozens upon dozens of eligible suitors lined the halls of Casterly Rock, awaiting their moment to present themselves to the Princess.

She was bored, to say the least. None of these men appealed to her.

Certainly not Jason and Tyland Lannister, who’d been relentless in their approach ever since she stepped foot in the castle. They showered her with gifts and gold and heaps upon heaps of riches.

It’d only been a few hours, and Rhaenyra found herself wondering where you were.

“Lord Tyland,” she called, and the tall, blonde man perked up.

“Yes, Princess?”

“Where is your dear sister, might I ask?”

For a moment, Tyland faltered. What would the Princess want with you, of all people?

“She’s usually in the library at this time of day,” he replied, miffed. “Would you like me to go fetch her?”

A touch of a smile reached Rhaenyra’s lips. “No, it’s quite alright. Would you be so kind as to escort me to her?”

Both Jason and Tyland exchanged indiscernible looks before Tyland bowed his head and beckoned her along, down the hall. “Right this way, Princess.”

The library was a grand hall, decked with hundreds of looming oaken shelves housing many rows of old, worn books. Tyland silently led her further inside, where there was a small alcove by a window, streaming golden light within the otherwise dim library. You were curled up by the glass, soaking up the light, reading fervently through a tome of alchemic history.

At the sound of footsteps, your eyes snapped away from the yellowing pages, widening upon seeing the Princess.

“You’re dismissed, Lord Tyland,” Rhaenyra told your brother.

Tyland opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it. With a nod and a sharp look in your direction, he took his leave.

“Princess Rhaenyra. I’ve heard you’re on tour,” you said, slightly breathless. With fumbling hands, you shut the book closed and put it off to the side.

She clasped her hands behind her back, watching you with both caution and intrigue. “I am. It’s a dreadful affair.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. What brings you here, though?”

“I wanted to get away from your brothers.”

You knocked your head back and beamed as you laughed. Rhaenyra smiled then, wide and true. It was probably the first time she’d smiled since she set off on this wretched tour.

“You and me both, then.” With that, you stood up, smoothing out the creases in your soft crimson dress. The color certainly brought out warmth in your eyes, she thought. “Come. I can show you around the castle, if you’d like.”

“Please,” she said, breathily. She briefly thought about the long line of suitors waiting for her. None of them seemed worth the time.

But you seemed worth all the time in the world.

The two of you linked arms, and you led her out of the library. It was a beautiful castle, with much to explore—but Rhaenyra found it hard to concentrate when all she could think about was your soft skin pressing against hers.

After you’d shown her the lavish halls, the marbled pathways of the gardens, and the history room full of artifacts and prized Lannister heirlooms, you finally stopped by a gilded staircase.

“Up there are my chambers. My brothers sleep on the other end of the castle. I doubt you’d want to go there.”

The two of you giggled with each other, and she leaned even closer.

“Can we go up?”

“To my chambers?” you asked, hesitant.

For a moment, Rhaenyra feared she’d stepped over some unsaid boundary. She liked you a lot. Perhaps more than she should, for this was only the second time she’s met you.

“It’s alright if you don’t want to—”

“No!” you blurted, hands shooting out to hold hers. Your thumb brushed over her several rings. “Come. I was just surprised, was all. Nobody’s ever really wanted to come to my room before.”

The two of you made your way up. Not once did you relinquish your hold on her—and not once did Rhaenyra pull away. Tension crackled between you, but not the hostile kind. This was… this was the type that kindled fire within your chest. The kind that made your breaths grow shallow and your cheeks grow heated.

Your chambers were tidy and spacious, with a four-poster bed against one wall and a gold-detailed table across the room. Several windows were open, showcasing a beautiful view of the seas, glittering hues of clementines and tangerines.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, breathless, resting her hands upon the windowsill. “No wonder Lord Jason boasted about the view here.”

“Jason would boast about anything,” you snorted, coming to stand beside her. “But it is beautiful.”

Rhaenyra turned to look at you, finding you much closer than anticipated. She studied your features—the slope of your nose, the way your lips were parted ever so slightly, the beauty mark just below your right eye.

“Have you ever laid with anyone, Y/N?” she asked, voice quiet yet bold.

Surprised at her question, you reared your head back with raised brows. But she only stepped closer, her nose nearly brushing yours when she leaned forward. A bout of shyness overtook you, warmth spilling over your cheeks.

“No, Princess,” you whispered breathily, head tilting. She glanced down to your mouth when you nervously ran your tongue along your bottom lip.

A second of silence.

Rhaenyra took one more step, and you could feel her whole body press flush against yours. A part of you wondered if she could feel your heart thrumming loud within your ribcage. She watched you, waiting for any sign of uncomfort.

With that, she kissed you. Your noses slotted, your lips melded, and her hand cradled your face as you fisted the expensive fabrics of her dress. It was near magnetic, the way you two clicked into each other.

She tasted of lemons, you hazily registered. Of course she did.

When she finally pulled away, chest rising and falling rapidly, you found yourself chasing after her lips, eyes hooded with want.

She laughed at that, kissing your cheek once, then fluttered several over the bridge of your nose.

“What about the tour, Princess?” you murmured just before she captured your lips once more.

“Fuck the tour,” she replied, tugging you towards your tall bed.

Her words made you laugh, overcome with giddiness. “Fuck the tour,” you agreed.

A year had floated by since Rhaenyra’s tour. Much to your dismay, your father had you betrothed and wed to Jasper Wylde in a matter of a few moons. He was a handsome man, but you found very few things to speak to him about. It was clear that Jasper saw you as little else than something pretty to fuck—after all, you were the fourth wife he’d taken. Probably wouldn’t be his last, either.

There was only one positive that came out of your marriage to Lord Wylde.

You lived at the Red Keep because of your husband’s place on the small council as the Master of Law. And that allowed you and Rhaenyra to stay close, kindling the fires of your secret romance, along with your more… sexual escapades.

Life in the capital was utter bliss. Save for the few times Lord Wylde bedded you, of course. Those weren’t quite pleasant—most of the time you simply shut your eyes and let him do as he pleased with you. You much preferred your time with the Princess than with your own husband.

Times such as now, for example: your arm wound with hers as the two of you strolled in the Keep’s expansive gardens. You leisurely bent down to sniff the blooming flowers, the bushes bearing assortments of roses and peonies and marigolds. Rhaenyra was complaining about her father bringing up proposals again, all huff and puff and pout.

“Why are you smiling?” she queried once you shot her an amused glance. “This is serious!”

“Rhaenyra, my dearest,” you told her, grin widening as you clutched her hand all the tighter. “I care very much for your struggles, I do, but your pouting is quite funny.”

With a sigh, the Princess reached out to trace a finger along the petals of a flower. You watched her movements, your smile falling away. “I suppose you don’t have to worry about it anymore. You’ve got your husband already.”

“Yes,” you hummed, stepping closer so that your chest pressed flush up against her forearm. “Lord Jasper is… tolerable. But he never pleasures me the way you do.”

Her purple irises seemed to darken in a matter of seconds, darting down to your parted lips. With that, she seized hold of you and you hurried out of the gardens, back into the castle. In your haste, you both tripped over your skirts and the many staircases, your giggles echoing over the stone walls.

Once the two of you had successfully snuck into Rhaenyra’s chambers without any spectators noticing, her lips immediately slanted against yours. It was an embrace of fiery passion, as your hands spidered down to her waist and yanked her closer, reaching behind to blindly undo the threads of her dress.

“You’re getting better at this,” she murmured when you pulled her dress off in a matter of minutes, leaving her in just a thin shift. She began trailing hot kisses down your neck.

Gradually, the two of you made your way to her bed, leaving a haphazard trail of tossed-off clothing along the way.

It was a blissful evening, to say the least. But the days of wine and roses wouldn’t last long, the two of you soon came to realize.

Later that same moon, Rhaenyra was betrothed to her second cousin, Laenor Velaryon. And, to your turmoil, you found that you were pregnant for the first time with Jasper Wylde’s babe.

Ten years passed in a flurry, filled to the brim with many joyful ups and even more tumultuous downs.

You had your two children: your eldest, Petyr, was the spinning image of his father, with dark locks of hair and molten brown eyes. He was quiet and observant, never one to speak his mind. The youngest, Aella, was a bright and bubbly young girl, her curly hair a shade lighter than her older brother’s, but they shared the same eyes. In short, they didn’t look much like you.

That was one thing you shared in common with Rhaenyra.

After she was wed to Laenor, she had three sons—each of the boys harboring none of the traditional Valyrian physique of silver-white hair and purple irises. Instead, they bore an uncanny resemblance to Lord Harwin Strong, a man you knew Rhaenyra was seeing for quite some time. There were even instances where you joined in with them, but those were few and far in between.

Your children were close friends with hers, and you and Rhaenyra were happier than ever.

That was, until Laena Velaryon passed away. Which, much to Rhaenyra’s intrigued curiosity and your dismay, Daemon Targaryen was a single man once more. You were never quite fond of him, judging from his infamous reckless behavior and callous nature, only highlighted by Rhaenyra’s fond recollections of him during her childhood.

Eerily soon after Laena’s death, Laenor also mysteriously passed away. Something was afoot, and you only pieced things together once Rhaenyra approached you the next day. She did not look like she was in mourning for her late husband—in fact, she glowed more than anything.

“Come with me,” she whispered to you in the dead of night, gathering your hands in hers and staring straight at you. “I’m leaving for Dragonstone to be with Daemon. We’re to be married. I want you there.”

She said your name then, all sweet and silky, as if her tongue was coated with honey.

Your lips parted. Shock, incredulity, and anger flashed across your features all at once. “Rhaenyra, your husband died yesterday.”

“I know,” she said. “He’s…”

There was a pause.

The two of you gazed at each other. You could feel your heart starting to fracture, even though you weren’t even sure what exactly was happening just yet.

“Come with me,” she repeated. “We can be happy together in Dragonstone. It’s a beautiful castle.”

Your eyes flitted across the hall, to the closed doors you knew led to your children’s chambers.

“My husband wouldn’t stand for it,” you told her.

“I’m the Princess. The heir to the Iron Throne. He wouldn’t have a choice,” she stressed.

Blowing out an unconvinced scoff, you shook your head. “I have children now, Nyra. I can’t afford to be as irresponsible as you are.”

The woman in front of you drew her hands away, clearly stung. “Your children would have a good life on Dragonstone. Luke has even taken an affection to Aella, my love.”

A part of your heart crumbled when she called you hers. Nonetheless, you shook your head again.

“These are dangerous times… the realm is growing uneasy. I just don’t think it’d be safe there for me and my children. Besides… a lion has no place in a den of dragons.”

You chose your words carefully, but clearly, they weren’t careful enough.

“I leave by daybreak. The ship will have space for you,” she murmured lowly, but she took a decisive step back.

Salt pricked the corners of your eyes. Stinging, burning, hurting. You wanted to kiss her for offering, and yet you wanted to slap her for leaving you.

“Goodbye, Princess,” you said, bowing your head.

Anguish colored over her features. With not another word, she turned and began to walk away, her dark dress fluttering in her wake. She left you there, heartbroken, the both of you not knowing that that was the last time you’d ever speak to each other.

Six years crawled on by—slow and dragging. Life at the Keep without Rhaenyra had proven to be rather dreary. You missed her, awfully so. Things just weren’t the same without the Princess—your lover around.

The realm was beginning to split, it was obvious by now, especially with King Viserys growing increasingly ill and rarely making an appearance outside of his chambers. Greens against blacks, supporters of Queens against supporters of Kings, Targaryens against Targaryens.

Personally, you fully believed that Rhaenyra should take over her role as Queen once her father passed, but your husband seemed to think differently. You would hear him mutter aloud at times, his and Otto Hightower’s plans to put Aegon on the throne. Your brothers were none too quiet on the matter, either, both the twins boldly vocalizing their distaste to see a woman ruling the realm. A part of you wondered if they were all hatching a plan to supplant Rhaenyra during small council meetings instead of tending to actual matters of importance.

Not only that, Alicent Hightower grew more and more bitter over the years, practically ruling in her husband’s stead alongside her father. It seemed nearly the entire capital had turned their back on their future Queen they swore fealty to.

You oft worried for your children and their safety, especially with the looming threat of war on the horizon. It was a messy affair, that was made clear, and you were nearly certain that none of it would end cleanly.

The news that Rhaenyra was coming back to the Keep to reaffirm Lucerys’ claim to Driftmark didn’t delight you as you thought it would, for so many years. Instead, it made you worry even more—nothing good would come from her visit. She was a past love for you now, a woman you scarcely knew anymore. And yet your heart still ached when you thought of her. Of the life you didn’t choose by remaining in the capital.

Besides, Rhaenyra wasn’t here for pleasure. She wasn’t here to see you. She was here for her son—the very son that sliced out Aemond Targaryen’s eye. Alicent would not see kindly to Luke taking over Driftmark, especially with her suspicions of his true heritage.

Tensions ran high in the castle, that was safe to say.

And so, that was why you brought your children to the Godswood, a place of peace and much-needed quiet. Everybody was abuzz in the castle. Murmurs and whispers and an uncomfortable weight hanging about the air. You couldn’t stand any of it.

You leaned against the trunk and shut your eyes for a moment, listening to the whistling wind and the chirps of birds. Petyr quietly read a book beside you and Aella traipsed over the gnarled tree’s roots that poked up from the soft grass, giggling to herself. They were good children, you thought. They didn’t deserve to see war in their lifetime.

“Do you think Lucerys remembers me?” Aella asked, her arms spread wide open as she balanced herself on a large stone. “We were so close when we were young.”

You cracked an eye open and spared her a sweet smile. “I’m sure he does, darling.”

She’d always harbored affections for him, ever since they were young children. It ran through the family, you surmised.

Your mind flooded with memories of all the times you spent with Rhaenyra here. Stealing kisses beneath the shade when nobody was around, holding hands in the gardens, hurrying down the halls of the castle with linked arms. The two of you were only children then, but it was the happiest you’d ever been.

That was where Rhaenyra found you.

In truth, she was trying to find Princess Rhaenys to discuss the matter of betrothals, but she was glad she stumbled across you. You were just as beautiful as the day she left, Rhaenyra thought, her purple eyes curious as she watched you affectionately lean against your son. You spoke then, calling out to your daughter to be careful after she tripped over a fallen branch.

Gods, even the sound of your voice made Rhaenyra’s chest feel heavy. She ran her palms down the fabric of her black dress, over her prominent baby bump, and anxiously turned her rings about her fingers.

After Rhaenyra studied you a little longer, she noticed that there was a distinct sort of heartache with your expression—one that Rhaenyra was sure she mirrored. So much of her wanted to step out of the shadows. She wanted to wrap you in her arms, kiss the beauty mark beneath your right eye, and tell you how much she missed you.

But she didn’t do any of those things. The two of you hardly knew each other now. Merely two strangers that used to know each other in a different lifetime.

Rhaenyra could hardly swallow around the lump in her throat. Her feelings for you hadn’t mellowed with time, even though she’d convinced herself that they had during her time on Dragonstone. But seeing you right there made years of self-preservation come crashing down in an instant.

First loves were always the most painful.

And with an exhale that trembled much more than Rhaenyra would care to admit, she turned on her heel and took her leave, off to find Rhaenys.

In another life, she could’ve been with you, she was sure. A life of bliss and a life not ruled by the laws of men.

But this was not that life.

And Rhaenyra had come to accept that.

a/n ; thank you for reading !! i made picrews for how i pictured the lannister!reader to look like (you obviously can picture her however you want, though), along with her children, petyr & aella wylde :)

#rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rhaenyra targaryen fanfiction #rhaenyra targaryen fluff #rhaenyra targaryen angst #rhaenyra targaryen smut #rhaenyra targaryen imagines #rhaenyra targaryen x you #rhaenyra targaryen #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd fanfiction #rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x oc #rhaenyra targaryen fanfic

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valaenatargaryensdragon · 1 year

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can you pleaaaae make a daemon smut where he just married a girl who had a difficult life was physically abused by her parents or partner so when she makes a mistake maybe dancing with aemond he is jealous and flexes his fingers and she thinks he will beat her and like comfort hurt type fluff

A/N: I hope you like it!

pairing: Fanon!Daemon Targaryen x Reader

summary: Daemon just married a girl who had a difficult life and was physically abused by her parents or partner so when she makes a mistake maybe dancing with Aemond he is jealous and flexes his fingers and she thinks he will beat her and like comfort hurt type fluff

Word count: 3,3K

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Smut, Jealousy, Hurt and comfort, mention of abuse, fingering, P in V, cunnilingus

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

You and Daemon have been married merely three moons, and you two still were not much acquainted with one another, you knew basic things about one another but nothing too profoundly. Your marriage was purely out of duty to the king who had arranged the marriage between your houses after the king yet again refused to marry him to Rhaenyra who was already married to Laenor, he mentioned that like the Conquerer had two wives Rhaenyra can have two husbands but that fell on deaf ears. Your father was over the moon and accepted without a second thought however your brother was furious, he tried everything to stop the wedding but could not.

Your childhood was not the best, your father despised you for simply being a girl, you were born after seven sons and your mother bled to death on your birth bed- your eldest brother was already twenty in age at the time and he made it his life mission to take over the role of the father in your life and loved you to no end. Later on, he married a lady from house Tyrell who was just as loving as him and they basically raised you.

However that did not change the fact that they were not your parents, your father still saw you and he always voiced his disappointment in you. He wanted to raise you the way he saw his own father raise his sister, beating was the only punishment otherwise you would not learn properly. He assigned you the meanest septa he could find in the whole of the Seven Kingdoms. She always had a stick in hand and the scars on your palms were the proof of her using it on you.

All seven of your brothers attempted to save you and all seven failed, they even made a whole plan to help you run away before your wedding but that also failed when your father moved you from your chambers in the middle of the night without telling anyone, especially them knowing they were not in agreement with him over the marriage. So you ended up marrying the Targaryen prince who seemed to have eaten a sour lemon most of the time and glared at everyone the rest of it. He was not harsh with you, quite the opposite actually- he was gentle when touching you never failing to notice the small winces you tried to hide in his presence but never mentioning them, he was nice and kind always with you in mind.

Daemon however was a rogue and lived a life many dreamed of, he wanted a Valyrian wife and was furious once he knew he was not getting that for a second wife but when he saw you so small in size almost unhealthy, head bowed and not daring to even look in your father's direction, always preferring to be with on of your brothers or their wives and children he knew that he got to have you, save you even from your father. He never once thought he loved you, he cared for you maybe but far from love.

Tonight was the nameday of young Princess Helaena and the King wanted to celebrate his second daughter's twentieth nameday and threw tourneys and feasts in her honor. As her uncle Daemon was present at the feast and you by his side. Your eyes were focused on the dance floor wishing you were one of the ladies twirling and showing off her new gown. Your eyes did trail to your brother every once in a while smiling at their happy faces whether they were with their wives or children, and there were many of them, your eldest alone had five children the youngest being five moons old.

"Excuse me, my lady, would you care for a dance?" Your head snapped up to see who had spoken to you and found Aemond, the kingäs second born son who was closer to you in age than your own husband but who were you kidding no one cared about age.

"May I lord husband?" You turned to Daemon hopeful. He did not want to ruin your fun so he nodded as he sipped his wine. A smile bigger than the one you wore on your own wedding adorned your face as you took Aemond's hand and let him lead you into the dance floor.

Daemon watched closely as if he was a hawk and you a prey, he wanted to make sure you were alright and that creep of a nephew he had did not do something he was not supposed to. You were still smiling as Aemond wrapped an arm around you and led the dance, swaying you from side to side before pulling you up in the air and turning in circles.

"Are you alright, my prince?" Daemon turned to glare at Alicent, the rage burning inside of him like wildfire. Her cunt of a son was indulging his wife and she had the audacity to question his mental state.

"I am just fine, your grace" Daemon downed what was left of his wine before pushing back his chair and moving in your direction.

Aemond saw him before you did and paused his dancing. You turned to see what Aemond was looking at and found Daemon glaring at the both of you as he approached, immediately the smile was wiped off and a tremble shook through your bones.

"Nephew, do allow me to dance with my wife" Daemon smiled sarcastically at Aemond. Aemond nodded his head and moved back to the table without another word.

"Follow me, wife" Daemon ordered. He left the hall without a glance your way expecting you to follow him and you did, you prepared yourself mentally for the pain and hateful words you knew were coming your way soon.

Daemon opened your chamber doors and stepped in first and let you in after him. He was not blind and saw the way you were shaking, the way tears build up in your eyes but he simply did not know why. He was jealous, true he cared for you, and besides you were his wife, he was entitled to be demanding of your attention.

"Did you enjoy humiliating me, wife?" Daemon asked. He smirked watching you as you froze just a couple of steps away from the door.

"I- no husband never, I never meant any harm" You whimpered. You looked down at your hands trying to find a happy place before the beating began.

"Yet you still did harm my reputation by dancing with my nephew" Daemon was now playing with you, he enjoyed this game even when the words were true he never liked to show his emotions and chose to show them more as a game but let reality slip through.

"You gave us permission" You whispered. Daemon's head was cruel, it flashed an image of you dancing with Aemond among the other couples. He took a step closer to you flexing his hand, he itched to punch his one-eyed nephew more than ever at that moment.

Seeing the movement of his fingers you unconsciously took a step back. Daemon's eyes flashed with hurt for a second until he noticed the tremble of your hands and the tears building up in your eyes. He knew then that there was something he did not know about you that caused you to react this way.

"Please do not hurt me" You whimpered. The more steps you took back the more Daemon grew furious with whoever did this to you. The back of your knee met the soft bed forcing you to go down and sit limply on it. You thought 'at least I will be beaten on the bed and not the hard floor'.

"Hurt you? I would never hurt you, what made you think so?" Daemon asked softly. The jealousy was long gone from his system and instead furry, pure rage coursed in his blood.

"My f-father always hurts me when I am bad" You whispered, your voice barely loud enough for him to hear. Daemon took conscious steps closer to the bed before kneeling down by your legs. He placed both his hands on your knees, gentle enough that you barely felt his touch, he was being very gentle with you.

"Listen to me well, I would never hurt you, I never have and never will. You are my wife and I am your husband, I am supposed to protect you not hurt you, do you understand?" Daemon's hand moved up to cup your chin so you would look him in the eyes. A tear trickled down your eye and he was quick to swipe it away. You nodded your head still unsure if you should trust him with his words.

"Let me hear you, sweet girl" Daemon insisted.

"I understand, my prince" You whispered. Daemon chuckled lightly, trying to show you his gentler side but on the inside, he was already plotting ways to kill your father.

"How about you take a bath to calm your nerves" Daemon suggested. You nodded your head in agreement, needing the bath more than anything at the moment. Daemon stood up from the floor and moved towards the door.

"Where are you going?" You asked confused. Daemon turned around to look at you with a soft smile on his usually scowling face, maybe this was the first time you ever saw him smiling like this.

"I have some unfinished business, I will be right back" Unbeknownst to you Daemon had gone to see your father.

Your maid was quick to assist you with your bath, filling the tub with oils and salts that helped you cal down more than you thought possible. She rubbed your shoulders and neck getting the knots that formed there from the stress.

At the same time, Daemone was holding your father up against the wall with a dagger to his throat threatening his life if he ever shows his face in Kingslanding ever again. Daemon was not going to tolerate his presence ever again in the same area as you until the day he dies.

When Daemon returned to your chambers you were braiding your wet hair back so it would not disturb you or him during your sleep. Your nightgown was of white color and your wet skin made it stick to your body, some parts were transparent thanks to the wetness. Daemon felt his cock stir in his pants at the sight. Once you were done with your braid you secured it at the bottom before turning to face him.

"Oh- husband you are back" You squeaked, oh so sweetly. Your cute little lips that were pinkish almost red in color formed an O shape. Daemon had to use every ounce of self-control not to pounce on you and take you right then and there, he had to remind himself that this night was all about you.

"Yes, sweet girl" Daemon began to stride over to you. Your eyes widened oh so comically the closer he got to you. His hands moved to your upper arms as gently as he can.

"You look breathtaking lady wife. you should wear this gown more often" Daemon complimented. Your cheeks turned into a beautiful red color.

"Come" Daemone guided you to the sitting area you had. He sat down on one of the chairs before pulling you up onto his lap. Your arms locked around his neck as you sat sideways in his lap, you were still super light, and he needs to make sure you were being fed properly. He will not have a starved wife.

"My beautiful girl" One of his arms wrapped around your waist to secure you on his lap and the other one moved to touch the apple of your cheek. You gulped watching him like a hawk, still afraid of him and he understood why, he did not give you a reason not to fear him.

"Thank you husband" You whispered, your eyes downcast now at the compliment. Daemon's finger pushed your head back up until your eyes met.

"Sweet girl I am merely telling the truth" Daemon's hand traveled down to your neck feeling the goosebumps grow under his touch. You shivered at the feeling of his skin on yours. He hooked a finger around the loose neckline of the sleeping gown and pushed it down to show your soft shoulder.

"So soft" Daemon whispered. He leaned down to place a gentle kiss on your shoulder. Your breath hitched in your throat.

He raised his head and captured your lips with his unable to control the urge anymore. You moaned as the taste of the wine he consumed during the feast filled your mouth. His hand sneaked down to pull your gown up your leg slowly. His fingers touched your calf gently. You sighed, muscles relaxing in his arms.

The moment did not last longer as your whole body tensed when his fingers reached your inner thigh. Daemon pulled back confused with the sudden tension that seemed to fill your body.

"Shall I lay on my belly again husband?" You asked, your voice oh so sweet but your words drove a knife into Daemon's heart when he realized that he never once cared for your pleasure, you must have not even known that you can be pleasured during the act.

"No, stay where you are angel, and enjoy the love I am about to show you" Daemon whispered against your lips. You gave him a look of confusion that made you look innocent, so innocent that Dameon would have mistaken you for a child.

His finger moved up to touch your small cloth, slightly damp but nowhere near ready to take a cock. His finger moved up and down feeling your slit through the fabric. Your breath hitched in your throat and you fisted the shoulder of his tunic. Daemon watched your facial expressions searching for any signs of discomfort to pain.

"Tell me if I am hurting you, sweet girl, alright? Say the word Ōdres when you want me to stop" Pain. Daemon watched as your eyes widened in shock.

"I shall not. A wife never stops her husband from getting his pleasure, my father said so" You whimpered, shaking your head. The fear in your eyes made Daemon want to return to your father and kill him in his spot. You were terrified of your father.

"You no longer belong to your father, you belong to me and you do as I say, if I hurt you- you say Ōdres, understood?" Daemon insisted. His grip on your thigh tightened. You nodded gulping.

"Let me hear you say it" Daemon begged, almost. Your eyes snapped up to look at him, your confidence was in shambles but his words made a silver of it return into your system.

"Ōdres" You whispered against his lips. Daemon smirked in victory.

"Good girl" He leaped up to kiss your lips. His fingers slowly moved your small cloth out of the way. His finger gently prodded at your hole earning a wine from your lips. You wiggled in his lap as your wetness began to increase Daemon lathered his finger with it before slowly and gently pushing his finger inside of you.

You gasped his name against his lips and he was quick to swallow the sound. It was like wine, he grew light-headed at the taste of your lips. Your fingers grabbed his hair in a desperate attempt at sanity.

His thumb found the button to all your nerves. You moaned loudly at the touch of his hand. The arm around your waist tightened when you wiggled in his lap.

"So good" You cried when a second finger joined his lone one inside of you. Daemon's eyes widened, he watched you hungrily eating up every reaction you gave him. He wished to stay in that moment forever.

"You like that?" Daemon curled his fingers inside of you in search of the rough spot inside that usually made the other women he was with cry in ecstasy.

"Yes!" your head fell back. Daemon leaned down to suck on your neck. Your behind rubbing on his fully erect member made it harder for him to focus but he forced himself to, this was about you and not him.

"Good girl, make the whole Keep hear how much your husband loves you" Daemon whispered in your ear before taking your earlobe in between his teeth. He curled his fingers against that spot again making your whole body shiver with pleasure.

"Something - ah- happening" You cried. You buried your face in his neck as your orgasm crashed into you. Daemon held you close trying to guide you through it. Not wanting to overwhelm you he pulled his fingers out of you and instead chose to push them into his own mouth, a involuntary moan broke through him at the taste, you tasted very sweet- sweeter than a fruit- sweeter than any desert he had ever consumed in his life in any land he has ever visited in his life.

"That is it, sweet girl, feel the pleasure" Daemon whispered in your ear, popping his fingers out of his mouth. He stood up from the chair with you in his arms and moved to the bed to place you on it, you deserved to be ravished on a bed.

"Let me undress you" Daemon begged. You look at him with hazy eyes but nodded nonetheless. Daemon untied the gown from behind and slid it down your body until you were left in your small cloth but that followed the sleeping gown soon after on the floor.

"Beautiful" Daemon's eyes racked all over your body, drinking you in as if he was seeing you for the first time, well technically he was, he has never paid much attention to your body during your time as newlyweds. His hands had a mind of their own as they felt you up from your thighs up to your stomach and chest pausing at your breasts, kneading the flesh needily.

"Daemon" Your back arched off the bed. Daemon's hands slid back down to your thighs and knees pushing them apart wanting to see your cunt. Your cunny glistened under the candlelight. You tried to close your legs again but he held your legs in place.

"The prettiest cunt I have ever seen in years, sweet girl" Daemon complimented. Your body was hit with a wave of heat, your skin turning red all over. Daemon could not control himself anymore and latched onto your cunt like a starved man.

You were the most beautiful woman in all the seven kingdoms and he wanted to make sure you knew that. He wanted to show you that not all men were monsters. He was going to take care of you.

He held you close as he made you cum on his tongue, once- twice and more than three times. He held you as he pushed his cock inside of you for the first time where your eyes locked with one another, no more fucking with you on your belly, no more pain, there will be only love and warmth. He touched you like you were made out of glass and he was afraid of breaking you.

He swallowed your moans and cries of ecstasy, the safe word long forgotten from your head as he brought you only pleasure and no pain. The beatings were long forgotten as his hands caressed you like you were the most precious thing to him in the world and not a mistake they regretted.

Daemon could not keep his eyes off of you every time you moaned, squeaked, or even breathed. With every thrust earned a reaction from you, hell even every move or touch earned a reaction from you, he hated himself for not doing this much earlier, for not appreciating you much earlier.

Daemon’s taglist: @luanasrta, @papichulo120627, @seulbeomie, @melaena-the-reborn, @k4marina, @fullmoonworshipper, @axelsagewrites, @mayrapaulina28, @vantestark

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anyca786 · 9 days

Text

"YOU'VE BOTH MATURED YOURSELVES THESE PAST FEW YEARS,"

Daemon targaryen x sister/aunt!Targaryen x Rhaenyra Targaryen.

WARNINGS: Canon typical incest/targcest (brother and sister, uncle and niece, aunt and niece) fluff, kissing. (Idk how to write warnings)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 7

Daenys had some spiralling conflicts with her mind and her heart. She felt a sense of connection with Rhaenyra that she had never experienced before, and it was scarying her. So she decided it was time to pay a visit to her favourite cousin.

7 moons later

Laena, her sweet niece had recently claimed Vhagar, the largest dragon alive.

They were currently flying throughout Driftmark and, 'Aunt, mother, look!" Laena, who sat on top of Vhagar in the saddle, pointed to the ship in the distance.

Daenys wore beautiful blue riding clothes gifted by her dearest cousin. Her luscious silver hair flowed freely with the wind.

Rhaenys eyes squinted at the number of ships, and her eyes widened. The distant sound of Caraxes whistle could be heard, which made Nyx's head turn at the sound, and she let out a pleasant roar.

'Velaryon flags..- " Daenys' shock was replaced with a happy expression while coaxing Nyx to calm down, "Shh, I know you missed Caraxes," she pats her dragon.

That meant Daemon was back from the Stepstones and have won against the crabfeeders.

"Father and Laenor are back!" Laena said delightedly and turned to her Aunt Daenys and flashed her a teasing grin, "You must be pleased that your betrothed is back."

"He is not my betrothed, silly girl. Now, if you excuse me -" Daenys scowled, "Sovegon."

Rhaenys sighed, watching her little cousin fly off in the direction of Kingslanding and then gave her daughter a look.

Rhaenys knew that eventually, the two would get married soon. They both shared the blood of dragon. The other Lords that offered their hand weren't worthy of the precious Princess Daenys.

🥀

To say Daenys was genuinely surprised that a party was being thrown for Daemon in the royal gardens was an understatement. She had heard the rumours of him being the King of the Stepstones, which brought a small satisfied smile on her face.

Everyone present seemed to be enjoying the warm weather. Daenys ignored the preying eyes of lords and knights on her and solely focused on her family wearing a genuine smile.

A servant passed by with a tray of wine, which she gladly took and thanked the servant.

Alicent stood by the King like a dutiful wife she was wearing a tight smile. Though she remained still to the best of her ability while rubbing her arms clearly discomforted by the Rouge's presence. It was clear that Daemon loathed the Queen just like Daenys herself.

"Princess Daenys, Your Grace" Daenys's name was announced, and immediately, the crowd stepped aside for the Princess.

Some were in awe while others held feelings of lust for the silver-haired princess, which made Daemon for some reason feel a rush of irritation.

Rhaenyra didn't waste any time walking over to her beautiful aunt. " Daenys."

"Rhaenyra.' she happily accepted her embrace, and Rhaenyra blushed when she pressed a kiss on her cheek.

"Come enjoy some lemon cakes with me. I saved you some chocolate." Rhaenyra said shyly.

That seemed to catch Daenys' attention and immediately accepted Rhaenyra's hand as she guided her to the dessert table, unaware of the Hightower Queen watching them with an enviouse glare.

"I can't believe he's back." Daenys mused, tasting her wine while Rhaenyra tasted the candied lemon slice in her mouth. Rhaenyra just looked at her and licked her fingers before swiping away the leftover wine on the corner of her lips.

"Nyra!" She whined.

"It's fun teasing you, my dearest Aunt." Rhaenyra had just gotten back from her six moons of tour and rejected the majority of her suitors.

The way she felt about Daenys wasn't simple. When her mother had died, Daenys had been there for her more than anyone. Rhaenyra adorned this woman.

She spent every morning, noon, and night thinking of Daenys Targaryen, their passionate kisses, her gentle touch, her aunt's genuine concern about her. She was a goddess in Rhaenyra's eyes, whether it was her pretty smiles, her pouty lips, or her fiercely protective nature.

Daenys smiled at her, "I take it the tour did not go well."

"They were old enough to be Vhagar's age." That made Daenys' nose scrunched displeasingly, making Rhaenyra giggle.

"Perhaps I have not found the one with the blood as hot as a dragon like mine, yet" Rhaenyra said, looking at Daenys's eyes.

"Let us go greet your father and Uncle," Daenys said, clearing her throat, trying not to address what Rhaenyra meant.

"Wellif it isn't my Prince Charming. Congratulations on your victory, brother," Daenys said, earning a laugh from Viserys.

"You shouldn't have thrown the party. Now his ego is bigger than Nyx, " Daenys said to Viserys, pouting.

'Thank you, Princess," Daemon spoke with a small smirk that held a double meaning behind his words. Daenys blushed at his words. Daemon looked irresistibly charming in his new haircut.

'And I have heard that Rhaenys is considering marrying you to Corlys' youngest cousin brother, Victor Velaryon. He will make a fine Prince consort. He's a good man." Viserys said remembering him years ago.

This brought a fake laugh from Rhaenyra and a hum from Daemon as he narrowed his eyes in amusement.

"Pin-cess!" Daenys turned her head to see small toddler wearing a gummy smile bouncing towards her with her arms out. Her septa hurried behind anxiously, "Apologies, Princess," the septa bowed her head.

" Hello, little princess," Daenys cheered, smiling brightly at the little girl with brown hair. Apparently, she was a daughter of some High Lord. The little girl was captivated by Daenys's beauty.

Daemon watched in awe as Daenys picked the girl in her arms. He had seen her interact with Rhaenys' children, yet he found himself imagining the baby in her arms, was his with long silver hair and big beautiful purple eyes.

His eyes hungrily wandered at her form. She looked absolutely beautiful over the years they've been apart.

Her hair was flowing freely, and it was clear from flying on Nyx. Her cheeks got fuller as well as her breast, which made Daemon hard just by the thought of it.

However, Daemon wasn't the only one staring her, Sir Criston Cole blissfully observed Daenys.

Daenys offered Sir Criston a smile.

"Perhaps the Prince Daemon and Princess Daenys would care for a tour of the gallery," Alicent offered, trying to mingle.

Rhaenyra's lips twitched at the thought of Daemon exploring the gallery.

"They haven't seen the new tapestries gifted to you by Norvos and Qohor." Alicent pressed.

"Would you like to see the tapestries?" Viserys asked Daemon before laughing out loud.

Daenys saw the hurt look on Alicent's face and turned her head to look at her brother, ready to snap,

"He has no interest in such things," Viserys said humorously.

"I'd like to see them. Would anyone like to accompany me?" Rhaenyra asked, trying to escape this dreadful talk.

"I would," Daenys replied merrily

"Oh, then you should not deprive yourself," Viserys told her.

But before Daenys could move, Daemon grabbed her wrist, "Later," he announced and dragged her with him. Daemon lightly chuckled, finding this situation amusing, making Daenys roll her eyes.

"Daemon!" she exclaimed, turning to face him with a mixture of surprise and annoyance.

"Come," he said, his voice low and urgent. Without waiting for a response, he pulled her away towards a secluded corner of the garden.

As they reached the privacy of the overgrown bushes, Daemon turned to face Daenys. His gaze was intense, his expression a mix of longing and desire. Without any warning, he cupped her face in his large hands and leaned in for a passionate kiss. Daenys, initially taken aback, couldn't resist the pull of his desire. She returned his kiss with equal fervour, her heart pounding in her chest.

"And I missed you too," she replied, leaning in for a brief, chaste kiss with a smile.

Daemon's kiss deepened, his hands cupping her face. He lifted her effortlessly, allowing her legs to wrap around his torso. Their bodies moved in perfect harmony, their passion igniting like a wildfire.

"Don't pull that stunt ever again," Daenys complained, her voice muffled by Daemon's kisses, "I was in the middle of a conversation".

Daemon chuckled, his breath warm against her ear. "I won't," he promised, pulling away to press a tender kiss to her temple. Setting Daenys down, Daemon smoothed her hair and cupped her face in his hands.

"How's your wife? Mysaria? Was it" She asked, her tone playful.

Daemon rolled his eyes. "Just accept it, you're jealous," he teased, his voice laced with amusement.

Daenys scowled, but he found her reaction amusing. He moved closer, their faces mere inches apart. Daenys refused to waver, her gaze unwavering despite the proximity of their lips.

Daemon grasped her neck with his large hand and grinned.

"There you two are," Rhaenyra's voice interrupted them, her tone light and teasing.

Daemon resisted the urge to scrowl at his niece when Daenys pulled away quickly.

Rhaenyra wore a content smile, yet her eyes trained on Daemon almost smugly, "You seem content on Dragonstone. Why did you come back? There is surely more to your return than simply taunting my father." She asked in High Valyrian.

"So what do you want?" She said.

"Only the comforts of home and to see my favourite niece and baby sister," Daenys felt like there was a whole other meaning behind it but chose not to say anything.

The three moved to the shade. Daemon chose to sit while Daenys and Rhaenyra stood.

"I had not thought you would particularly be comfortable with this home," Rhaenyra spoke.

Daemon poured glasses of wine for the two girls and then offered Daenys to seat on his lap.

Daenys gladly took a seat on his lap while Rhaenyra shifted in her spot, visibly not pleased.

"The adventurous must've changed you," and the two Targaryens stared at her with a soft gaze.

"You've both matured yourself these past few years,"

Daemon stared at Daenys in admiration. She had certainly become a fine woman, and it was certain that he wasn't the only one who thought that. His niece seemed quite taken with her as well.

"My father seems content to sell me off to whichever lord has the biggest castle,' Rhaenyra spoke in annoyance. Daenys grabbed her hand in support and said,

"Your father is getting on my nerves, lately"

"There are worse things to be sold for," Daemon replied, speaking of experience. He had been young when he was betrothed to Rhea Royce.

"Marriage is only a political arrangement. Once you are wed, you can do as you like," Daemon directed his words at the Princess.

"For men, marriage might be a political arrangement. For women, it is a death sentence." Rhaenyra said in High Valyrian.

"Would that it was. I would've been rid of my Bronze Bitch ages ago." He replied in High Valyrian.

Rhaenyra sipped on her wine while refilling Daenys' goblet.

"Your wife has been fortunate. You haven't put a child in her." Rhaenyra said.

"I doubt a child could grow in such a hostile environment." Daemon replied, his laughter fading away as Rhaenyra scoffed.

"My mother was made to produce heirs .. and it got her killed," Rhaenyra spoke heavily in emotion. Daenys remembered the time when Aemma gave birth to Rhaenyra and how much she suffered then. The horrifying birthing scene made young Daenys run away from home in order to avoid marriage and the same fate.

"I won't subject myself or Rhaenyra to the same fate," Daenys stated strongly.

"What happened to your mother was a tragedy. But this is a tragic world." Daemon's words were laced with comfort towards Rhaenyra.

"I have no desire to live in fear. Only solitude." Rhaenyra replied strongly. Daemon smiled at the two women with such newfound fondness.

🥀

As Daenys was getting ready for bed, she noticed a bag sitting on the chair. She moved it and lifted the bag onto the table and poured out its contents onto the table to see commoners' clothing.

"Daenys?" A whisper spoked, a voice she recognised.

"Rhaenyra?" Daenys replied. She turned around to see her niece come out of the wall. A secret door she had no idea existed, "Rhaenyra, how did you even discover the secret passages?" she asked in awe.

She momentarily forgot about the bag and went up to Rhaenyra in excitement, "Can you imagine what we can do with this? We can sneak into kitchens or -

Rhaenyra had placed a hand over Daenys' mouth to keep her quiet, "Now aunt-you do not want us to get caught do you? Now, have you received a bag from Daemon?"

'Yes... Where are we going?" Daenys's eyes widened in curiosity, but for some reason felt a bit giddy as to what they were going to do tonight, Daenys lived for adventure.

"We are going out tonight and exploring the streets with Uncle Daemon as our guide."

Daenys wasted no time getting changed into the dress and cloak. She had pinned her hair up and had it tucked behind a long scarf. There was no way she'll have herself recognized.

"You look very handsome." Daenys complimented Rhaenyra, who was dressed as a little boy.

"Why, thank you, Princess," Rhaenyra replied cheekily.

Daenys reached for Rhaenyra's hand, "Well, what are we waiting for?" The Realm's Delight chuckled at her aunt's impatience. Together, they go through the secret door and into the hidden corridor.

When they reached outside, Daemon was already standing there dressed in a cloak with a hood over his head. "Took you both long enough." He smirked.

A/N: Double update <3

#daemon targaryen #house of the dragon #daemon targaryen x reader #hotd daemon #hotd #daemon targeryan #rhaenyra targaryen #queen rhaenyra #daemon x rhaenyra

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