#daemon targaryen x reader angst

[lokisprettygirl]

Deadly Locks (Detective! Daemon Targaryen x Female Reader) (Non Canon Au) (Dark )

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1

Summary: After five years of being together you broke up with Daemon for your own good but the link between you two stayed connected. As the City of Belfast is terrorized by a killer on the loose would your life intertwine with your old flame again or the case would only drift you further away from him?

Warning: 18+ , smut, It's a crime thriller so there would be some squeamish dark stuff, read at your own discretion, mention of rape, assault and murder, Speeding and driving under the influence, Reader has long hair, Daemon's hair is up for imagination

Daemon was tired, he hadn't slept in three days, he was running on caffeine and on top of it his mother kept calling him all day long because she was worried about him. Tired was an understatement. He was exhausted in every possible way.

“Good night sir” his protege Jake said to him before leaving to which he responded with a nod and a grunted sigh. The amount of paperwork on his desk only made him feel worse. He loved his job, he loved being on the field and solving crimes all day long but he hated the administrative work that came with it.

As he slumped down in his chair he cracked his neck side to side to relieve some of the tension he was feeling but it was in vain.

11:59. He looked at the time and sighed again, as the clock hit 12 he was reminded of the day. It was your birthday, he wasn't sure if he wanted to call you today, you had broken his heart on the very same day two years ago.

You had called him on his birthday a few months ago but the last time he had seen you was at Torres’s birthday party, the only mutual friend between you both. It's been six months since he had seen you last and it's been two years since you had crushed his heart beneath your heels and ruined his life but you both had stayed in touch. Perhaps he'd give you a call tomorrow, he didn't want to come across as desperate by calling you right at twelve am.

He went through the files on his desk, his focus set on the case that was demanding all of his attention these days. It was about a serial killer who abducted, raped, and murdered multiple women in a chilling and unique manner. The case had stirred up a media frenzy in Belfast, bringing him the biggest and most challenging case of his career so far. He poured all of his energy and expertise into the case, knowing that a successful resolution would earn him that much needed promotion he had been working towards.

Serial killers were known for their signature patterns and this one followed suit. His targets were women in their early thirties, and he often stalked them in secluded areas before attacking them. But instead of choosing them at random, he took the time to learn their routines and kidnapped them only when the opportunity presented itself. Each crime scene was marked by a signature, he left a lock of their hair behind on the exact spot he had abducted them. Long luscious locks of hair, all of these women had that similarity with each other.

The media gave him the name 'The Barber Killer' which Daemon despised. Doing so only gave them more notoriety and motivation to continue. The killer always made sure their bodies were found, the women were scalped for their hair and stripped of their skin, teeth were also extracted. It was a horrific gruesome sight but this is what he had wanted to do all his life, not witness such inhumanity but put criminals like him behind the bars where they should be..

Seven years ago he was merely a traffic police officer, that's exactly how he had the fortune of meeting you.

Speeding, you were speeding and you were being very reckless. As you were tailed by him and asked to pull over he saw this young woman in her early to mid twenties.

“Do you have any idea how fast you were driving in a low speed zone?”

Daemon leaned down to get a look at you and you gave him a smile

“Yes I'm sorry?”

Sweet voice he thought.

“Can I see your driver's license and MOT mam?” he asked you so you hurriedly went through the glove compartment. As you gave the documents to him you couldn't help but take a moment to get a good look at him. With his striking eyes and full hair, it was easy to see why you found him so attractive. He had a calm but confident demeanor that only added to his charm. You couldn't help but wonder what he was like in person.

“So ummm Officer Daemon does that whole 'flirting with the officer to not get a ticket' thing works on you?” You asked him and he gave you a side smile as he looked you in the eye, you must have read his name on the batch.

“Doesn't work on me..your MOT is expiring in a week”

“I'll get it done i promise..I'm sorry I just really have to be at my sister's wedding or I'll be murdered and they'll probably call you to investigate my case so please can I go?” you mumbled with an urgency in your voice

“Not without a ticket.. besides I'm just a traffic officer, not a detective"

"Well..not yet"

You winked at him in a playful manner and he quickly tore the citation from the ticket book and handed it to you.

“I'd say it was nice to see you but you just cost me hundred pounds so no”

“Well I'm not going to change the law for you mam, speeding is dangerous not just for you but others as well”

“I know..I don't normally do that you know..I'm just really in a rush” you tried to explain yourself and he could tell that you weren't really the type to get caught like this.

“You can go now…drive safely.. and congratulations to your sister” you gave him a smile that took his breath away for a moment. It wasn't like him to be so affected by a woman like this, after the rough childhood and even worse adolescence, he was always focused on wanting to do something in life, dating and finding love wasn't the top of his priorities so this really came as a surprise to him..

“Goodbye officer Daemon”

You weren't the first woman he had busted for speeding but you surely were the only one he followed for a bit to see if you were driving safely or not. That should have been the end of your interaction with him but it wasn't.

Two weeks later he caught another vehicle driving under the influence and you were in the passenger seat this time, your friend Donna was the one driving the car. You had later told him that seeing him again was nerve wracking as you didn't want him to think of you as some reckless idiot but you were also excited to bump into him again.

As soon as Daemon approached her side of the window she batted her eyelashes at him which only annoyed him further.

“Wow look at you .. aren't you handsome officer Daemon?” She giggled as she tried to trick him with flirting and the annoyed look on his face made you smile, however you puckered your lips as he turned his attention to you.

“Id and driver's license mam” he said to her while his eyes were on you so Donna rummaged through her compartment and passed it to him.

“Please don't fine me .. it's her birthday, we just got a little excited” he shook his head in disbelief at the excuse and made her take a breathalyzer test which she obviously failed.

“Can I talk to you, miss?” He asked you so you looked at Donna and she gave you the eyes,

“I tried to seduce him” she mumbled as she leaned into you

“Yeah, how embarrassing for you” .

You opened your door and stepped out of the car, as Daemon saw you in your silver little dress he knew you both were returning from a club or something, not that he'd know anything about that. His social life was non-existent.

“Are you trying to kill yourself?” his brows furrowed in anger as he spoke to you so you leaned your body against the hood of the car.

“I wasn't driving” you answered shamelessly.

“But your friend is drunk, do you understand the repercussions of your actions?” He asked you but you didn't respond so he cleared his throat and you finally looked in his eyes as prior to when you were audaciously staring at his lips.

“I'm sorry, it's just really really hard to focus on what you're saying. Your lips are very distracting when you're speaking with such ...passion”

He opened his mouth to give a sly retort but he was warm and flushed by the remark, he wasn't used to being flirted this way, not in a genuine way. He wasn't the prettiest guy as he had been told time and again so he was always a bit weird around women, especially women as attractive as you.

“Do you wanna go out with me ..Someday?” He asked you and the smile on your face indicated that you didn't mind.

“What about now? It's my birthday..you can buy me a drink or i can do the favour officer”

“My shift ends at 11”

“Then here's my number” you grabbed the pen from his fingers and then you grabbed his hand to write your digits on his palm, he was glad his partner wasn't around today to witness this, his breath hitched as you grabbed onto his fingers and etched every digit in clear numbers slowly.

“I'll wait for your call officer”

That's how he had found the woman he fell madly in love with, it just clicked, everything made sense with you but perhaps he wasn't what you really needed.

He slumped back in his chair, trying to get rid of the personal feelings he had at the moment, two years, it's been two years, he should have moved on.

Around 4:45 am as he finally got done with the paperwork he decided to go home and get his sleep but he wasn't able to sleep, he kept thinking about giving you a call but he didn't. It was 5 in the morning, you must be asleep he thought.

In the afternoon he woke up to his phone ringing constantly, it was Jake. He had requested him to come to the precinct immediately as another woman had been kidnapped in the barber killer case, he almost didn't want to get out of bed but he had to.

“Update me mate” he asked Jake as soon as he entered the station but the way Jake looked at him made him feel uneasy.

“You might want to sit down for this”

“Why?”

“He got her”

His skin went pale as he heard that.

“What?”

“Y/n..uhhh your ex..the girl in the picture which you keep in the drawer.. around 5 am in the morning she was on her morning run and she didn't return, her friends and family were trying to call her since it's her –”

“Birthday” Jake nodded as Daemon said that. He was really nervous giving this information to his boss.

He turned around to face away from Jake and braced himself against the desk to control his breathing, he couldn't freak out, he had to stay calm and he had to look for you, he had to find you. He stood there, taking slow deep breaths, fighting to keep his composure, at least he had to do so to not lash at the young nervous trainee next to him.

“Should have called her”

“Did you say something?” Jake cleared his throat as he noticed daemon mumbling under his breath.

“No i..just..let's go”

“She fits the profile sir..”

“What's the report on her cell?”

Daemon asked as they stepped out of the station to go visit the site you had disappeared from

“Phone is switched off, the last person who called her was some guy named Pierce–”

“Bring him in for the enquiry”

“Yes sir” Daemon halted for a moment to turn to Jake.

“Stop hovering over me”

“Sorry, are you alright sir?”

“Yeah I am fine…”

“He takes his time with them..i'm sure she's not–”

“I know mate ..I'm on the case” he sighed as he tried to calm down again “Look just focus on the job, there can't be another one, we need to get this maniac before he kills--" Daemon paused for a moment to finish his words "Somebody else”

As soon as he got inside his car and drove away from the station he chose a secluded spot to pull over and then he allowed himself to cry, a part of him felt guilty.

He thought back to last night, his mind couldn't stop coming up with scenarios where his decision to not call you had affected the outcome of the situation, maybe if he had called at night you'd have invited him over like you did last year, and maybe you'd still be here, safe and around him and not in some deranged psychopath’s lair.

Or if he had called in the morning perhaps you'd have changed your mind about running today, perhaps he could have done something to cause a ripple effect, but then he remembered that this wasn't some random abduction, if you were taken by the barber killer, it only meant that he was keeping an eye on you from a long time.

Once he was done feeling sorry for himself he went to your house and followed the track, cops had done their thing but he wanted to be meticulous, this wasn't just a job for him anymore, this had become personal, he found the lock of your long hair that cops had missed, his eyes welled up thinking about the times he had spent his nights running his fingers through your hair. .

He knew he had to find you before it would be too late.

“We are not getting back together –” he chuckled as you said that to him even though you knew his heart must have broke all over again at the sound of your voice.

“I know –’ he caressed your cheek with the back of his index finger and you leaned into his touch almost immediately.

“I just don't want you to misunderstand this invitation”

“I won't–”

You pulled him closer to you by grabbing his collar, you had missed him, it's been exactly a year since you had left him and broke both of your hearts but every part of you still loved him. Time heals all wounds you had heard then why were you still hooked on him? You found yourself thinking about him, dreaming about him - even though you knew it was wrong. You tried to tell yourself that you would eventually move on. But in that moment, you were reminded of just how much you needed him in your life, however you also remembered all the times he wasn't there for you when you needed him..

“I don't want to hurt you more than I already have -” you pulled away to whisper against his mouth but he pressed his thumb over your lips.

“You can't hurt me more than that..trust me”

He picked you up in his arms and pressed you against the wall, clothes didn't even come off your bodies , it wasn't needed, all you needed was his cock slipping in and out of you, nobody fucked you the way he did, nobody compared to him. It didn't take him long to make you crumble in his arms, he had no idea that you hadn't touched anyone since him, you broke his heart but your heart and body still stayed loyal to him, five years, you had been with that man for five years and you wanted fifty more but he brought you equal amounts of pain as he brought happiness.

“Happy birthday my scrappy girl”

You opened your eyes to a figure looming over you but your screams were muffled by the duct tape. You pushed and struggled against your bindings, but it was all in vain. Memories of the past flooded back to you, filling your mind with regret and longing.

If you knew someday in life you'd end up bound and helpless in a dungeon perhaps you'd have made different choices. Perhaps you wouldn't have broken the heart of the man you loved so deeply.

“Oh no you're all banged up, can't have that now can we? My son is rather brutish. I must say” you heard a woman's voice but you couldn't really see her in the dark. Her accent was thick and the perfume was strong.

You struggled again as she picked you up and made you sit down on a chair. What the hell was going on here? You didn't understand. Fear was all you felt in that moment, well that and regret.

He didn't even call you this year, was he ever going to call you again? You had no idea and maybe you'd not live the day to figure it out.

As the duct tape was ripped off your mouth you took a deep breath and then you screamed, wasn't really the wisest decision on your part because that earned you a sharp slap and then you felt a needle pricking your arm which immediately made you feel drowsy. The woman then walked away to leave the room, and when she opened the door you could see that she had long hair and that she was wearing a full length dress. You also heard another woman screaming. Were there others here?

The last thing you remembered was the entrance of a man into the room just before you passed out.

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Young Daemon looked like this

Taglist @daddylokisqueen

[howyouloveyourdragon]

Remnants

pronouns: she/her warnings: smut, use of the word ‘whore’, angst, disease, character death, fluff, infidelity, slowburn, classism at first (daemon is a shit) summary: They say that you never forget your first love but the vultures are prey to weakness and intend to infiltrate Daemon’s own desires to preserve his adere riñus (slippery girl). Some say the woman will forever remain in his conscience, guiding his bloodied sword and singing sweet lost lullabies to lay his rest. For it has been too long since the volatile dragon slept peaceful. A prince with more gold than he can keep. A prince who can demand whatever he wishes and command any army. And yet all he is left with…All he is left with are the remnants of her which he swore to cherish as religiously as he would an idol. A/N: reader has dark hair for a plot point to work but i think you can still ignore it if you want to :) dividers by: firefly-graphics wordcount: 6,797

There is nothing like a sunset that is more comforting to him and yet his comfort is limited. How he stares at the strewn stars like figments of grace and kind. How he stares each as though in the eye and recounts sonnets as they emit. How he begs and pleads for the Gods to last the warmth of sunlight just a little longer each time. And each time it fades. Each time his eyes grasp any trace of her to sew back into his mind after it has been torn from him with viscous delight. He should have known. The Gods do not listen to begging. Not even from Crown Princes. No matter how many bottles he shatters in the heat of his dreams. He likes to think that their love was red and as flowing as his ever-heating dragon’s blood. A Syrax in its own right. But there was no Goddess of ecstasy blessing them. No. It was a curse of bluebells and belonging to that of Gaelithox, surely to punish him for his foolishness. He looks up at the sky. The dark array of black and blue. Of silver specks and promising folds of purple. There is nothing like a sunrise better to send the Rogue Prince into a spiel of decay and sickness. The absurd golden bonds squeezing out another day like an artist with their last inch of oils. The crawling brightness that comes to threaten the moon. Abysmal lies sung to him as his brother attempts to push him into seeing beauty in all that inductees his churning stomach. 

He wills the flowers to wither. 

It was under the rising sun that Daemon had stumbled and forced his way out of the obnoxious hooting Street of Silk. Perhaps he had been desiring only ale or the rancid smell of sweat to intoxicate him. At just two and twenty, he had been visiting the volatile heap of taverns and brothels for the past eight years. It was religious in his dark desires. For dragons did not obey the whims of men and Daemon did not obey the whims of his brother nor father. And certainly not the whims of his wife. His nose turns up at the thought. Marriage would not contain him like they desired and yet still, he receives the constant demands to visit her. Of course he only intends to sink them in water until soft enough to shred, rejecting their presence all together. It would be easier to burn them but he does not think them worthy of his flame. His begrudging circle had even begun threatening to hail her to the Red Keep. To keep her in his presence all torturous times of the day. He knows his mother wouldn’t have let this happen, surely. Never would she sell him like prize cattle just to tame him. He is a dragon does not fuck plain featured sheep, he burns them but he would not devour them like his brother wished. His tastes were precise and he would not settle. He is a prince. He deserves nothing less than a woman matching his silver strands. Which is what he thinks of as he stumbles through the dark night struck streets, hopefully back to the castle gates at least. He despised people seeing him in such a state but he could usually hold his liquor better than tonight. And he assures himself that all will be well…until his cloak catches on a hook and he crashes to the floor in a surge of red blurred vision. 

He blinks awake the next morrow with a pounding headache the size of Caraxes. A wince cracks at his muscles. Daemon grunts, a rough sting along his left cheekbone. A blur of dark hair and feminine presence has him assuming he had fallen asleep in the whorehouse again but instead his eyes flit across the plain room, brows pinching at the plain room. It is unfamiliar, he realises. His lips part in time for a resounding click of the unknown woman's fingers to snap him into alert. Anger swells in his chest but his limbs are weakened with exhaustion and ale. His sharp eyes choose to narrow instead as quickly as she takes a step. His brain swishes with questions. Where is he, why is he here and most importantly, who is this already insufferable cunt of a peasant? "You." He sneers, clicking his own fingers but she ignores him, returning to a small room he presumes to be a...kitchen? It is small and brown and littered with pans, some empty, some filled. "Tell me, who are you?" It is a demand. They both know it is a demand and yet it goes ignored. Rage firms his brittle state. "Answer your prince!" He stands on slightly shaky legs, uncaring to his indecent layer of clothing, or rather, lack of. His tunic...Where is his tunic? It isn't panic that raises the bile but it is discomfort. The odd woman merely chuckles at him. Anger flares once more. Daemon's swift hand snaps to his scabbard only to find it empty. "Relax, your highness," He doesn't like the mocking lilt seeping from her untrustworthy tongue. "it will be returned to you, I merely made certain you would not awaken with a missing appendage." His face scowls petulantly at her and he takes a step forward. 

Daemon builds up his broad shoulders to square though he is not entirely a man full-grown yet and his boyish features attempt to harden. Intimidation is a powerful tool he knows. "You will hand me my possessions and I will take leave far from your slums or I will–" She spins around, facing him not with fear or mal-intent but with curiosity. Her sly smirk is the first thing he notices alongside her narrowed fox-like eyes. “Or what?” She returns, impishly .His mouth hangs. She had been washing one of her thick pans but now she has tucked the pathetic wet towel into her small apron and folds her arms. The pan is left forgotten on the side after a loud clang. She raises her brows. “Or what, your highness?” She repeats as though he is nothing more than the village idiot or town fool. Begrudgingly he has never felt more like a child, not even after marrying the bronze bitch. Daemon’s mouth moves but nothing comes out. She snorts. “Will you harm a sweet village girl? Add blood to your taxes? Ah, apologies, my lord, you are no foe of such demands, you are the taker.” The snide doesn’t pass him. “No girl is of worth to a Dragon.” He says, finally regaining composure. She doesn’t cower, she sneers. “In that we can agree.” Her voice, once mellifluous and playful, now turns cold. “Except the ones fucking dragons and I assure you, I have no intentions.” He swallows, noticing just how close they have approached once the hit of warm breath fans over his mouth which towers just above her. He ignores when his eyes flicker to her wet lips. How can a peasant look so nourished? 

Daemon may ignore it but the peasant does not, her lips slowly curling upward smugly. She hums as she takes in his dilated pupils now wielding more than just rage. Slowly, her calloused hand begins to dip into her apron pocket. In a flash, his palm snatches her wrist and rips it out of reach. She blinks, slightly disoriented, but then raises her brows comically. “Do you not wish me to return your sword, my lord?” She lilts, Daemon’s face softens. “I am your prince, not your lord.” He snarls. Again, her sickening chuckles lift in the stale air. “You are an ingrate that we are all in service to, my prince. Do you wish for your dagger or not?” He hesitates. Who is to determine that she is not attempting to fool him? That she will not snipe his weapon and slice it through his throat; would she leave him bleeding on her floor or scatter him amongst the mongrels of flea bottom? Daemon casts his eyes at her apron. She sighs, allowing his thick fingers to swipe through the various utensils stashed away. The prince grunts when he makes contact with a blade, groaning behind his taut lips. He slides it out once he finds the hilt and dances it between his fingers like a peacock presents its feathers. A smirk twitches. 

The peasant girl sighs, unamused as he watches the shining steel. “Do you intend to frolic through the streets and freeze?” She asks with a thin layer of mocking. His eyes narrow on the blade. “No,” He articulates in a frozen phrase. “You will lead me to the garments you have stolen from me and in return I shall allow your pitiful life to remain.” It isn’t a chuckle that escapes her this time but instead a snort. His nose wrinkles at the unabashed noise. “Will I?” She returns, biting the inside of her cheek. Daemon lets a glower settle, breath heaving at the disrespect. He clenches his jaw. “You will or you will taste your own blood.” Daemon spouts the words, attempting to poison her flesh, he can already imagine the boils that would litter her soft skin. The peasant merely winks. “It wouldn’t be for the first time but I am afraid that it would be in your best interests that you stay a moment more.” She sighs as though the fact physically pains her. A hand sneaks behind her back, which connects against the rough counter edge, and produces a small wooden bowl, heat emitting in steam from the top. “Would you not prefer to break your fast before you leave? A weak prince is not a wise one.” 

He leans down, sneering. “I am not weak.” She leans up at him and tilts her head. “Then how do you know I was talking about you?” She pushes the strange broth to his chest and slips past him once his confusion lessens his hold on her other wrist. His head snaps to face her figure again. “You are an insinuating little tart.” Daemon comments but much less interrogative than before. He eyes the broth cautiously as he takes a seat at her short stocky table. His legs plead for freedom under the trapment. He ignores them. The girl glances him over and he can feel the scrutiny piercing his skin, ready to seep inside. Begrudgingly, the heir seats himself at the small table of her home and huffs like a petulant child.  The threat of judgement crawls like an insect over his tense muscles, it feels like twenty-thousand little cockroaches are bumping one another from the inside of his skin. It begs to clamber into the strange peasant instead, what does a peasant fair against a prince? She must know that it would be further than a sin to place judgement on a Targaryen prince while she is nothing more than a lowly film of dirt atop his shoe; filth he is desperately trying to scrape off until his hands are raw and bloody. 

His eyes take this moment to rake over and through her as she stumbles around the much too small hobble. Her hair reminds him of toiled waves, crashing messily and unkempt–even though it is tied up–against the harsh wind sneaking through her window. Her apron is dirtied and there is flour on her face. She looks every inch the commoner he despises. Because she thinks she’s better than him, he’s sure, he can see it in her smugness, her eagerness to keep him dependent on her already. She has a vile brown dress beneath it, his skin itches just looking at the rough worn-in cloth. The prince’s eyes trail to her bare feet, he winces but attempts to ignore it, glancing over the muddy wet end to the dress. He lets a sigh release and shakes his head, inspecting the rest of the abode. Just looking at her made him long to cleanse himself. Daemon’s nose turns up at the sight of a myriad of blue wilting flowers in the corner, well he supposes to her it is reminiscent of a myriad. Her. Why is it her mind, her thoughts, that he wants to explore like the depths of the great sea he has always been kept from? Then his eye catches on the deep red cloth that drapes along a lone wooden chair. His eyes narrow. Is it stolen? She doesn’t look as though she could afford such vibrancy. Or perhaps she is a whore and it was gifted by a client. That must be it. She’s a whore. Daemon clicks his tongue and looks down at the half-eaten broth. He stirs at the odd liquid, raising the too large spoon and pouring the broth back in the bowl before dipping it back in again. It takes all his willpower to stuff it into his cheeks and let it play on his tongue. 

He swishes it across his taste buds. Daemon wants it to be foul, he wants it to reek of vomit-inducing grossness. It is a childish word but he is running out of insults. His hope also falls flat because for some reason it tastes good. It tastes better than any soup the high paid cooks have ever offered him, it tastes almost better than any rich meal he’s consumed. His eyes narrow. Is she a witch? Is this set to bewitch him or send him into sleep? No, it makes him feel much too energised. Then is it to gain his favour? Constituted to trick his submission? She will not achieve it, he refuses. He finishes the lukewarm meal while taking his time. He watches her hum and shimmy about the room, searching for something he does not know. He scans her curiously. “My garments.” He states in demand, standing and approaching her swiftly. She doesn’t react, doesn’t even stop humming. She moves about a few thick books, all handwritten and all with olden pages–yellow with use. 

His fist rests sideways against the presumably oak bookcase so he can lean over her, forearm following suit. He wants it to reflect dominance but instead it twists his gut and warms his lower stomach. “You have something that belongs to me,” Daemon purrs. His eyes narrow. His free palm outstretches. “I want it back.” “I have more than one thing, milord.” The snark drips from her tongue with charisma he loathes. His jaw clenches at the forced display. “Then return them and I shall return this.” Her eyes snap up to him and frown at the sealed letter in his grasp. Daemon can see as the panic swells and tenses her muscles, he can see as she takes in an inhale sharper than Dark Sister, he can see as her eyes widen because Daemon is not merely a swordsman and soon-warrior; Daemon Targaryen is also an observer. The peasant girl swallows. “Very well.” She chokes out and he finds himself surprised to have won this game of cat and mouse. Of dragon and sheep. Almost disappointed. The prince nods and steps back but as she prepares to swipe it from his hands and pulls it back with a visibly pensive expression. “I will give it to you once you return my possessions.” Eyes meet and again, his gut twists. She tilts her head, guard seemingly lowered. “How curious,” She breathes out. Daemon’s brows knit. “What?” He questions. “You said possessions not belongings. Most would use the latter.” 

When he eventually does return to the castle, fully clothed and prepared to sleep off the remainder of his disturbed night, He keeps a firm stance and intends to forget the strange day so far but his mind circles the events like a fly. Daemon growls as he shrugs off his shirt to replace it with one of pure white and tosses the prior into a drawer. He roughly grasps a red doublet in his hands and tugs it over. His breath comes out in grunts and curses until he is redressed. It is the same shade as the peasant girl’s cloth, of course it is. It was his favourite until today and now childishly, it feels tainted by the resurging memories of humiliation being sewn inside. His nose scrunches up, a grotesque taste rubbing against his tongue as he recalls one incident in particular. The prince, a man to be respected, can visualise as he was shoved to a thin mattress and tossed up the mix of bile and sickness from his stomach. All. Over. Her. Floorboards. Daemon winces and shakes his head, trying to shake the memory into the deepest depths of his subconscious, never to be seen again. He sighs and turns around, pausing when a slight fluttering falls as soft as a petal from his trouser. He frowns and peers down at the paper. There sits a thin parchment, not unlike the letter he had returned to the peasant girl. This one however is in cursive words much more eloquent than the past one and written in a phrasing he’s unsure of. He looks at the wax seal this time. It’s blue and the paper around it is curled. Daemon glances over the creases. Perhaps his business is not yet forgoing. 

A moon passes before he finally returns through the winding streets, trying to recall the pattern in which he returned home, backward. Daemon finds himself humming a tune to which he should not be familiar with but it is the only thing that consumes his mind as he passes through the Street of Flour. Finally, he reaches a small doorway and raps at it. No one answers to which he sighs and takes a step back, peeking through the opening of his hooded cloak at the abundance of civilians. Daemon’s eyes dart amidst the unknown area and his feet follow, investigating a series of yells and glances one last time at the door. The street is in uneven bumps and the people there are clumped together as they holler and whistle. Daemon halts his tune and uses his substantial height to attempt to see over the large mass of bodies. He can barely make out the sight of steam and two large wooden stands. The hollers burst through his ears like pellets of rain, forceful and punishing as a storm. 

Then a familiar voice is raised above the others, a mock resounding in his ears but with the playfulness and wit of a friend. His violet eyes snap up to find the woman haunting him. She’s laughing raucously, obnoxious and loud. Daemon’s lips slightly twitch at the teeth she bares. Again, his gut stirs. The heat becomes smothering but that doesn't stop him in his pursuit in finding the peasant girl who he now sees tossing around a pan filled with water and meat. From the brief glances he can snatch up, she’s almost finished while a man beside her is kneading a similar meat lined in fresh pink. Daemon pulls his lips taut, tensing as he watches the show. His little peasant seems to be enjoying herself. Witch, he thinks briefly but she doesn’t look like a witch and nor does she particularly sound like one. Are witches not supposed to be tantalising and hibernate an illusion of raw sex? Of primal appeal to tempt him? She doesn’t appear to be trying very hard. The flour is gone from her face now, he notes, but in its place lays a curved slice, colour as deep as that of Dornish wine. If she is a witch, would she not surely cover it? The hiss of her heated pan hisses throughout the street and Daemon finds himself surprised that no one has stolen from the small bag of coins in the centre. 

A cacophony of enjoyment and not one has a trail of bitterness. He watches as the girl glides a hand around her neck to push back the hair escaping its tight wrap atop her head. Only joy amongst the miserable. Perhaps that should worry him but he is too enthralled in the display. The woman’s hair is tied high again but much clearer than the moon prior–the day he last saw her. She is still wearing the same rags but this time that revolting red cloth is wrapped around her shoulders like a shaul. Not a whore either then. A whore would not be parading her squeals for free and nor would she wish to wear rags when surely many men had solicited them. So she is not a witch and not a whore and yet he finds himself stalking after her presence like an injured pup. Daemon growls at the very thought. He is a prince. How many times must he remind himself? Princes do not chase after strange peasant girls. The scolding floats through the wind when the peasant girl cheers and hurls the pan down on the wooden market stand. Her opponent groans half-heartedly, grinning like a mad man as he stretches out his arms and embraces the girl, one rough large hand resting to cup the back of her head and his other reaching to slap her back like Daemon has seen other knights behave. But this is not a knight, this is a peasant. The fact twitches his nose in distaste. But so is she. A voice whispers in his ear, he swats it away, watching as the surrounding peasants cheer. 

Daemon watches as the children let their little hands grasp the food and jump in bubbles of excitement. If he had a warmer heart, he may have found the sight sweet. But he does not, he has a mission to complete. He approaches the peasant girl with sly steps but she has already noticed him, how, he does not know. He steps behind her and opens his mouth but she beats him to it. “My prince,” She speaks with a burning smugness he doesn’t have to look at to be aware of. Against his better judgement, a sly smirk spreads across his pale lips. “You remembered.” He quips to which she hums in approval and folds her arms over her chest. “Unfortunately I did.” Daemon shifts in intrigue. He hesitates for the first sun of his existence. “I almost thought you wouldn’t bring it back.” She comments, amusement slipping in between her teeth. A snicker passes his mouth, a mouth rarely barred. “I had not imagined you would need use of such a thing left so easily misplaced.” Daemon’s hot words burrow through her ear, as determined as their wielder. She turns her head, baring her soft neck and piercing eyes to look up into his. The heir’s breath hitches. 

“I misplaced nothing, my prince.” The peasant purrs boldly. The intimacy of a whisper drips from her like an aphrodisiac. Daemon grins. “Is it my name or merely my title that you know of?” He chuckles, a confident hand reaching wind at her waist. Her own hand cups it. “Of course, my Prince Daemon Targaryen.” He swallows and a shuddered chill draws down his back. “Might you tell your prince your own for adequate compensation?” She leans a little closer, only a breath apart and fanning across his twitching lips. She interrupts his thoughts by slapping his hand enough to stun him. “I shall not.” With him vulnerable, she twists away from him with cautious grace. “I like to leave my men wanting.” She calls with a growing impish grin. He surprises himself by returning the gesture, straightening his back as he does so and raising his brows. “And I am one of your men then?” He retorts easily and watches her sashay apart from him. Before she is too far, he pats down to find the letter in his pocket but already knows it has been swiped. Instead of berating his own foolishness, he smirks at the smart, slippery girl and steps away, sure to see her more in the growing time. 

As the moons pass and his brother grows increasingly irate with him, Daemon Targaryen sneaks away into the night. He ignores the hailings of his Lady Bronze and replaces her calls with the sweet melodies his newfound companion intoxicates him with. The soothing lilt of her lullabies and the calm braids she strews across his hair. Daemon stands, now a man of 27 years, at her side. Y/n, she had told him. Her name was Y/n. She was of no surname and no wealth but she was beautiful and kind. She was fresh and witty and every inch the insinuating tart she had been the night they met. Her fingers stroke through his tangled mane with a snort before landing her hands, rough with work, on his shoulders. He leans back and flutters his eyes shut. With all the bread she has kneaded, this is not the first time he longs for her embrace. He hums in swift pleasure, reaching up to coil his fingers with hers. “How is sweet Rhaenyra?” Y/n asks, voice ripe with interest and honey as always…Only this time, there is something burrowed beneath, he can feel it. He can feel it better than he can sense Caraxes’ heartbeat. “She is well…Almost full grown already.” Daemon responds, his fingers lingering as they caress Y/n’s hand. Why does it feel so much frailer than it did before? “Are you hiding something from me? Are you aware that it is a crime to lie to your prince,” The joke falls flat as she leans forward and shakes her head, arms stretching across her lover’s chest. She doesn’t speak and he doesn’t pry but they are both aware of the deep mulberry bags beneath her eyes. 

But Daemon has always been a man of actions and impulses and so, he lets instincts take over, leaning back his head to look at her. His hands both reach up to cup her face and descend it toward him with gentle prompt. “I brought something for you,” He breathes, twirling a strand of her hair around his fingertips. She tilts her head and tightens her lips. “Whatever for?” He lets a mischievous grin twist his mouth and stands, settling Y/n down in the chair instead. Daemon cups her cold hands in his warm ones and folds them in her lap. “Close your eyes.” She does so begrudgingly but she is long past arguing with him when he’s in his moods. She chuckles. “You told you there was nothing you required for your namesday and while I respect–” She interrupts him, groaning with amusement. “Because it is not a namesday, I will never know my namesday,” She chuckles but her tickling throat gives her away, choking the words out of her dry throat. Daemon hums lowly. “But it is the day that you were given shelter.” She rolls her eyes at the quip. “That place was hardly a shelter.” He leans down to kiss wetly along her jaw and up to her earlobe. “And yet it brought you to me, kept you safe and waiting.” She snorts and raises her brows, a pointed expression inching over her. “I was hardly waiting.” He chuckles this time and kisses up the column of her throat. As she begins to breathe out gentle moans, he takes her distracted presence to skillfully thread his hand over hers, sliding cold steel onto her finger. She gasps and flutters her eyes open to see his cocky smirk. “Well?” He asks and kisses the finger. He licks his lips and lets a shaky breath flow through him. 

Y/n regains composure and stares at the ‘something’ he had brought her. She brings it to just in front of her sights and swallows. “Is-Is it…?” “Yes,” He whispers and looks at the carefully crafted jewellery too. “I want you to have a part of me, always. And in return…” He pauses and turns the ring around her finger slowly to reveal a carved dragon, its wings spread for flight. “I want all of you.” He slowly kneels in front of her. “I want you to marry me.” It’s instantaneous that her mouth parts and her eyes widen. “Daemon…” “That woman is not my wife.” He states coldly before warming at the sight of her softening brows. “You are my wife in body, in soul and I want so in law too.” He takes in a breath. “Please, do not this deny of me. “I told you I would give you everything and I intend to. “Your brother will never approve of it.” A growl ripples through his mouth. “I do not care, he has tried to be my dictator since we were children and now I am a man grown, I should be allowed to choose my own wife. To let her choose me. He has not yet had an heir, let me take you to Dragonstone.” He leans closer until only a single breath can part them. “Let me make you my wife in the ways of my ancestors.” Silence cups them in a bubble, so easily popped. Too easily popped…and yet, she turns the ring, roaming the dotted rubies that form the dragon’s eyes and in slow movement, she stares into violet irises as she kisses the dragon’s head. “Yes.” She whispers. “I will be your wife.” 

He doesn’t take a moment more to grasp the sides of her face and kiss fervently at her soft pliant lips. She returns the force in tandem as the sun sets behind them. The golden rays darken in a way only the most beautiful of moments could demand. Daemon’s hand drops to scrunch at the material at her thigh, at the skirts of her dress. It is in moments that both his hands reach to pop and tear at the incriminating fabric, ripping away her bodice until he can paw at his prize like an animal starved. Her teeth sink into his lip and the wet resounding noises surface upon their lips. His breath grunts as hers quickens in high pitched desperation. Her own hands slash roughly at his doublet, shoving it away from him like a criminal. His hips grind against her in hard strokes, desperately trailing his kisses down her neck while she clutches and pulls at his long silver hair. A high moan tears from her mouth as he sucks his marks into her, the need for possession clawing at his veins. Her pearl throbs as she twists to plunge him onto the floor. She straddles his thighs and wraps her arms around his neck and pushes his face against her neck again. He growls and snaps off her smallclothes. “When we met,” He groans, eyes fluttering back. “I thought you were a whore.” A breathy cackle drips from her animalistic mouth. “I’m starting to rethink denouncing that. You are much, ah, much too talented to be a baker.” He moans and burrows his head into the pillows of her breasts, lips wrapping to suction once more, to claim. “And you,” She interrupts herself to moan, tossing her head back. “Are much too unkempt to be a prince.” He bucks his hips. “Tell me,” A shriek breaks as he tugs roughly at the pelvis of his own trousers, desperately trying to be rid of the material. “Tell me you’re mine, Rogue Prince of the Seven Kingdoms.” A gasp drips from his tongue while he finally gets a grip of his fabrics. He tosses her to lie on the floor, her back pressed against the wood. “Fuck, I’m yours,” He babbles like a hormonal desperate teenager. With thick hands grapple his own trousers and tears them off with haste. “All yours, only yours.” 

He throbs as he kisses down her body, planting wet marks as violet as his eyes and crimson as his blood. He props up her right leg to drape over his shoulder and sucks at her thigh. His tongue probes at the flesh. His palms squeeze at her thighs as he slowly dips down between them and worships her mound in deep licks, drinking in the slick. He wants to drain it into a flask and carry it in his satchel. He wants to carry her around to sip from at any moment. He could die happily between her legs. Daemon Targaryen does not need wine or whore because she is his sin and he will anger the Gods happily if he can keep this temptress at his side. He pulls back to fan his breath along her throbbing cunny. Such a sweet filthy little thing, he thinks to himself, blowing down on it and revelling in her small jolt. His tongue drops to play with the bundled pearl, rolling it over the muscle and sending vibration as reward for every little moan that she lets pass. Her hands reach down and tug at his hair. “You should not have tempted me, adere riñus,” (slippery girl) His dark eyes level to meet hers. “I told you I want all of you and I intend to take it.” With an animalistic grin, his mouth descends once more to lap at her. Her back arches, grinding into him impatiently. “Be careful,” The woman pants. “Or I may start suspecting you to be a whore yourself.” He growls as she smirks and pushes up her body, slamming a forearm by her head and stretching her leg. She winces for a moment but recovers as his fingers replace his tongue. “A private whore then.” He speaks, removing his hand from her bud to palm at his length. “For a have already told you,” He grunts, chasing her mewls as he plunges into her entrance. “I am yours.” And so he pushes deeper, pushing roughly and lets his sweat pound into her flesh until they absorb one another. 

Months have passed. He knows they have but he doesn’t feel it. All he can do is fight and slay and watch as men burn and bleed. So long it has been since he last saw his true wife, since he last kissed her lips. A comment in passing has devoured his entire mind. A half-hearted promise that he has clung to now is visible but only in part. He wants it now more than he has ever wanted anything. “Yes, well, you may marry her if the Stepstones are ever retaken.” A King will be true to his word and his brother has never proved untrustworthy but the phrase was meant in jest, he knows. However, Daemon Targaryen, Rogue Prince and man of twenty-eight years, will let himself be damned before he rejects the prospect. He will make his wifey his own if it is the very last thing he does. He has returned to his brother, a crown of bone within his grasp and presented it to him with but one request. He shall take his own wife and he shall take her at court for all to see. Before every lord, lady or royal proudly. For the first time, it isn’t frustration or malice in his brother’s gaze in response to his boldness. It is gentle and merciful. Because that is what it feels like to be gifted the honour of his adere riñus. It is mercy, it is a blessing, it is his salvation. It is the rise of his sun and the fall of his stars because he only needs one. He only needs one shining star to keep his moon afloat and begging. 

Finally he can return home to her with more than a title and unfair vows. He can return with a heart full. Daemon’s hand twists at the wooden door he has slipped past so many times before but he freezes at the sight. An array of mess greets him and horror balls in his throat to gag him. His eyes snap at every corner, panic rising like the flow of sharp wind. His feet travel through the cluttered space, wariness biting at him but then he sees blood splatter on a cloth. It is as crimson as the shirt beneath his tunic and that alone makes him scream for her. Her name resounds through the open space and his legs run swiftly to the only other room there, the one where he had professed his devotion to her until the words bled out. He bursts the door open with the force of ten thousand men, the hinges yelling at him. He settles his sights on his weak love. She is shivering. With widened eyes and swiftly snaps to her side in one breath and kneels there, clutching her hands. “What is wrong, my love, who has hurt you?” The words are loud, demanding and cold. She almost doesn't respond and his heart stops. “I am well, husband.” She calls him such…She calls him such without even knowing the good news, the news he had only dreamed of whispering into your ear but not like this. Never like this. “My love, you are not.” Daemon chastises and fumbles with her bedsheets. He reaches to cup her cheek. “My love what has happened, has someone thieved you, please tell me what has happened.” She merely shakes her head. “I,” She coughs into her hand, rich thick blood dripping from it like a cursed potion. His face hardens but he lets her finish, lets the quiet remain. She’s trembling like a little lamb. “You knew that I was in an…unseemly state when you left. I am glad to have you return to me.” She has never spoken so proper, so rehearsed to him before. How long had he been blind? “I am taking you to a healer.” He snaps instantly and stands. She winces. “No,” She begs weakly. He shakes his head. “No, please, I do not wish for you to see me in this state.” “Shame is not for this time!” He yells. “I return home to my wife sickly and bedridden and you expect me to not alert a maester? Nonsense, you are coming willfully or I will make you.” 

The nights are cold and they pass without progress as he lays by her side at all hours. Her eyes stare up at the ceiling. “It is in the sky that you are free,” She utters. “Caraxes will be missing you.” Daemon shakes his head and glides a hand up her waist. “And if I should fly him then I shall be missing you.” “He is an animal as wild as you, my love,” She berates with the softness of an angel. “And he will wait.” “And for how long? Until I am old in my grave.” “Do not say such things!” Daemon chastises. “It is mere truth, husband.” She sighs and curls his hair in her fingers. “He needs flight and so do you.” He doesn’t respond, his petulance growing.”I am not getting better.” She wags a finger in his face when he tries to argue. “I will continue not to but if you do this justice for me then I will grant you an army of love.” The mischief still holds on her tongue after all this time. The gentle mocking of his salvation and he smiles. He smiles as water pricks his eyes. He can’t speak. He won’t make it so, not if it is only going to claw at him. 

Daemon Targaryen, Rogue Prince, Lord of Flea Bottom, wielder of Dark Sister sits upon Caraxes and watches as the ivory moon lowers before him. He watches as gold forgives the darkness and they embrace. The twine of beauty and misery thread together in a beautiful seal. A seal of love and beauty. He twists a ring in his hand, one made of Valyrian steel and shattered promises. He sits upon a red cloth. Parchment is strapped to his thigh, awaiting acknowledgement, a web of bluebells encapsulates it. A letter of hopes, a letter of dreams unfulfilled. Daemon Targaryen, Rogue Prince, Lord of Flea Bottom, wielder of Dark Sister sits upon Caraxes and watches the sun rise and with it, his future. He has felt his slippery girl slip from him and now it is time for him to breathe new air. He is only left with the remnants of her but that is enough for him to resume his newfound duty. A duty to her, to her memory and to her desires. As he watches the night close, he finally takes acceptance. He accepts peace. Her love is not red, it is not blue. It is in what she has left behind and it is in what she has gifted onto him. Finally he understands what she meant that fated day. She does not own him. He belongs to her.

Her love is her remnants. And he has an army of it. 

Remnants Taglist: (if your name is in italics and bold, that means i couldn't tag you, you will need to check your settings) @chompchompluke @eyelinerandcigarettes

HOTD Taglist: (if your name is in italics and bold, that means i couldn't tag you, you will need to check your settings) @wrendermedone @hopelesswritergall @blackdreamspeaks @its-actually-minicika @gettheetoanunneryimmediatly @adelusionalwriter

[queers-gambit]

Daddy Takes Care

prompt: ( requested ) in comparison, your first pregnancy was a cakewalk. this time around? not so much. good thing Daemon's there to help where he can.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!reader no specified House or race

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 6.4k+

warnings: cursing, daughter named Visenya, angst 'cause pregnancy isn't all sunshine and glow and rainbows, hurt and comfort 'cause happy (but abrupt) ending, author has never been pregnant so please forgive inaccuracies, not edited.

"My Prince! My Prince! Prince Daemon!"

Daemon purposefully ignored the errand-boy, hoisting his daughter higher on his hip. "Easy, little dragon," he spoke in High Valyrian, "Caraxes is not known for his patience."

Visenya giggled, "Caraxes likes me, Daddy."

The dragon rumbled as if in agreement, blinking his eye as Visenya laid her head on his snout; half-way out of Daemon's arms, but still maintaining a vice grip. "My Prince, please," the servant pleaded, "i-it is your wife."

Daemon whipped around, Visenya being rightened in his arms when her father glared at the young man who panted from his sprinting. "What?" Daemon demanded.

"Sh-She is with the Maesters now, my Prince, and your brother, His Grace, and the Queen Alicent, too, The baby started - "

But the lad gasped when Caraxes gave a harrowing growl as Daemon charged forward; Visenya in his arms as his dragon's breath seemingly propelled his stride forward. Visenya whimpered when Caraxes stalked out of the Dragon Pit with Daemon, only stopping when he could go no further; but he thundered his displeasure and suspicion in a grumble that made the little girl wince into Daemon's chest. "It's okay, love," Daemon told her gently in their Mothers Tongue, approaching the Royal wheelhouse they used when traveling with Visenya. He spoke softly, "We're going to see Mummy, Caraxes is just worried."

"What's wrong with Mummy?" Visenya asked in the Common Speech when they boarded.

"Go! Do not stop until we get to the Keep!" Daemon barked at the coachmen before settling his daughter down. He saw the big tears swelling in his daughter's eyes and sighed, telling her softly, "I am sorry, my sweet dragon. Daddy doesn't know what's wrong with Mummy, that scares Daddy sometimes, and when Daddy's scared, he gets a little mean."

"That's okay, Daddy," she nodded at him, looking sheepish. "I get scared, too."

"It's okay to be afraid, fear is natural," Daemon told her softly, "but it's important we do not let it define us."

Her little legs swung, "Like Lord Larys."

Daemon snickered, "Oh, you naughty girl, I told you not to repeat that."

She grinned, looking far too innocent to be Daemon's spawn. "Mummy says we should be nice to Lord Larys."

"She does?"

"Mhm," Visenya nodded, "she said 'cause he knows too much."

His head cocked, "Little Dragon, has Lord Larys ever approached Mummy? Spoken to her?"

"He tries," Visenya nodded, "but Mummy walks away, she doesn't like him." The little girl lowered her voice, telling Daemon a secret, "Mummy said his breath smells like poo."

Daemon smirked, whispering back, "I know."

When they arrived at the Red Keep, the wheelhouse was barely slowed before Daemon was scooping Visenya into his arms and getting ready to disembark. When they stopped, he didn't wait for anyone to open his doors, announce his name; he just surged out, charging for where he knew the Maester's chambers were.

However, Otto Hightower was waiting for him in the foyer, greeting, "Prince Daemon, Princess Visenya."

"Hi," Visenya waved, holding onto her father's neck shyly.

"Where is she? Where's my wife?" Daemon demanded.

"Resting in your chambers, my Prince," Otto answered, not being offended when Daemon turned heel to change direction and left him in the dust.

Nobody intercepted Daemon, but it wasn't like any tried. He didn't look at anyone, they never met his eyes; but most took note of the way he all but galloped to get to his chambers. When the shoulder that wasn't holding his daughter barged through the door, he didn't slow, just demanded, "What is this? What has happened?"

"Daemon," Viserys sighed in reprimand.

"What is the matter?" He charged forward to reach the bed. "Give Daddy a second with Mummy," he told his daughter in Valyrian as he set the little girl down and took the spot beside you instantly. You had a knowing smirk on your lips, hand taken by both of his, not even blinking when he barked, "Well? What has happened!?"

"When you take a breath, we will tell you," You told him softly, squeezing his hand and smiling with closed lips. "The Maester's have only just left, you did not miss much."

He shook his head, "I should've been here none the less."

"And deprive our little dragon rider the opportunity to bond with her favorite mate?" You teased, looking to Visenya and opening your arm (after pulling yours from Daemon's clutches), "C'mere, little one. Come to Mummy."

She was careful and slow in her movements, curling up beside you; shimmying under the covers to cuddle into your side. She pet your belly, "Does it hurt?"

"No, not right now," you answered honestly, never wanting to lie to her. It would do no good in the long run, being truthful and honest were traits you can teach (not always) and you and Daemon took it very seriously.

This was a cruel world, why sugarcoat it? So your daughter would depend on some man - some man like Larys Strong? Nope. Not on your watches. She'd be the belle of the ball with the meanest right hook in the Seven Kingdoms.

"Daemon," Viserys spoke with a calm tone, earning the attention of the room, "you must know, these sort of things can happen at anytime."

"Is it The Curse? I-Is it The Curse? Does it prevail?" He asked in desperation, looking distraught.

"No," you assured, taking your only free hand to lay one of his on your swollen belly.

"No...? No?" He repeated, then scoffed, "So, why is it I was - "

"False labor," Alicent cut him off, making his jaw steel as he glared at her. "It can occur, the mind tricks the body into thinking and reacting that it's time to deliver the babe."

"But it's too soon," he pointed out, "she's still, what? Two, maybe three months left?"

"It can happen," Alicent nodded.

He frowned, glancing at his brother, then to you. "I was with the Queen when I got this terrible pain," you explained to Daemon. "There was fluid and some blood under my skirt, we thought it couldn't be right, so, she brought me to the Maesters and sent for you."

Daemon looked vaguely surprised, leaning down to press his lips to your belly. With a sigh, his forehead rested on your bump, lifting to peck another kiss, then righten his spine, asking, "And now?"

"All was clear, I was brought back here, and your brother did not wish to leave me alone - but nothing else was able to be said before you arrived," you chuckled, caressing his cheek.

"Thank you," he told Viserys, sniffling as his eyes lifted to Alicent, "both of you, truly, thank you."

"We are family," Viserys assured, "we would not want to be elsewhere."

"There's a whole Realm to - "

"Sometimes, politics can wait and family cannot," the King spoke wisely. "We are simply relieved the Lady is feeling better and all is well. The babe will stay in her womb until the end, should she remain in bed."

"Oh, Gods, Viserys," you groaned, "we agreed not to tell him that!"

"You agreed, I did not," he shot back at you.

"What do you mean, brother?"

The King answered, "She is to remain in bed until the end of her term - with natural limitations."

"Which means?"

"She may move around the room, but not much farther; she may use the privy, keep her blood circulating, but she is to remain down for most of the time as it will help keep the babe in place."

He nodded rapidly, "Of course."

"We'll let you rest," Alicent told you both softly. "I'm sure you want time with your family."

"Actually," you sighed, "might I ask for one more favor?"

"Anything, name it," Viserys agreed.

"Take Visenya for an hour? Daemon and I need to speak privately."

"Of course," Alicent nodded, stepping up to the bed. She waited as you and Daemon promised Visenya you'd be with her soon, that you needed an adult conversation, and after giving you both a kiss on the cheek, she marched off the bed to take Alicent's hand. Viserys hobbled out after them, and when the doors shut, Daemon deflated.

"Oh, Seven fucking Hells," he muttered in a muffle against your belly. He let your hands rake into his long strands of hair, pulling any knots, just soothing him with the scrape of your nails. "I was so worried," he admitted quietly, "I just - I did not think. I have feared this possibility so much, I think I tricked myself into thinking it was reality."

"What's that, my love?"

"The Curse... The Targaryen Curse."

"Daemon - "

"We were so lucky with Visenya," his tearful eyes lifted to meet yours, "and half of the pregnancy was wasted on our worry that something would go wrong. I might've created this reality."

"You did nothing," you promised. "Neither of us caused this, it's just what happens."

"But you've suffered for months," he whispered, eyes reddening by the second. "You had endless nausea, you threw up daily, my love, you developed night terrors, and you cannot say it was anything but ideal."

"Perhaps not ideal, but so perfectly us," you answered, watching him stand with a frown. "Daemon - where are you - "

"I only mean to change," he promised, already shedding his clothing and boots and weapons belt. When he joined you in bed again, he laid off your legs but beside them, head on your belly to hold and letting your hands rake through his platinum white locks again. It was quiet for minutes longer, just enjoying the other, but he whispered, "I should've been here."

"We did not know."

"Still," he frowned, kissing your bump tenderly, whispering, "I'm so sorry, I wasn't here, but do not take it out on Mummy. She's so brave," another kiss, "so very brave to take the time and give you the most perfect place to live for now. We can't take it out on her. Not Mummy, anyone else, but not Mummy."

You felt yourself dozing off, humming in contentment when Daemon took note and started a conversation with the babe - just simply detailing his day. He said there was soon to be another clutch of dragon eggs and their sister would choose the most perfect egg for them; being all Visenya's spoken of for weeks. He told the babe how excited they all were to meet them, but when he noticed you were asleep, he hated himself for getting out of bed.

It was only to pull a dressing robe on and locate his daughter; being easy as she was in Alicent's arms two halls over - both admiring the tapestries. "Daddy said this was a big fight," Visenya was heard, pointing at the drape.

"He's right," Alicent nodded, "this depicts Aegon's Conquest."

"Big dragons," she sighed dreamily, looking at the stitching. "That's Balerion, Vhagar, and Meraxes. Cousin Laena rides Vhagar now."

"Very good, sweetheart," Alicent praised.

"My Queen," Daemon called, approaching almost stiffly.

"Daddy!"

"C'mere," he grunted, accepting his daughter as she lunged for his embrace. "Thank you," he told Alicent.

"Is everything all right?"

"She's resting," Daemon nodded, trying to hide his fear from his voice but Alicent saw it in his eyes.

"The Maester's know how to help, my Prince," she assured softly. "She might fight against the limitations, but it's for everyone's health. She'll be okay, Daemon," her hand reached out to gently touch his forearm, "her body just needs time to adjust."

With her words thrumming in his mind, Daemon spent the next several weeks at your bedside. He was everything and more: he got you water, tea, anything to eat; always making sure you ate even a little SOMETHING three times a day. He made sure you took your medicine, wiped your flushed skin with cold cloths, braided your hair to keep it off your flesh. He read to you, rubbed your ankles and feet to help any circulation of clots, held your trembling form when you threw up. Daemon remained strong where you felt weak, doing whatever he could to assure you that your predicament wasn't a burden to him.

"You're not listening!"

"All I do is listen!"

"Daemon!" You snapped, "For weeks now, you've been at my every beck and call - catering to my whims. You are not canceling flying with Visenya, she'll be crushed."

"But you're closer to your birthing," He pointed out sharply.

"And I have not moved from this bed in days," you snapped back. "I will endure another day of this if it means you go take Caraxes out, I hear he's been a right menace."

Daemon shook his head, but something in his posture fell from defense. It made you sit up a little and beckon to him, his hand reaching for yours as he dropped to the place beside you; leaning against your mountain of pillows. "I do not know how to do this," he whispered, leaning his head to the crook of your neck in a vulnerable show of emotion. "And I know we are learning together, but I feel pulled apart - that I will disappoint one of you while catering to the other."

"My sweet husband," you whispered against the crown of his head. "You worry for nought."

"I worry for all," he whispered. "Visenya needs me, Viserys needs me, Caraxes needs me, the bloody White Cloaks need me, you need me - "

"Do not stress yourself further about this," you insisted. "Viserys has other advisors. Visenya has her aunts, uncles, cousins, anyone she could play with. Caraxes does need you, yes," you chuckled, "but he's also violently independent so I would not worry about him. And I am under the care of the Maesters, so I'd argue only the White Cloaks need you - you are their Lord Commander, after all."

"No," he refused, "I am a husband and father first, brother second, Prince of the City third, and Lord Commander fourth. I will be where I am needed, I just do not have enough hours in the day to do it all."

"You do not need to do it all," you whispered.

"You all need me."

"Visenya and I, yes," you agreed, "your job is important, too... Fuck the rest. 'S just noise."

He chuckled, you felt the pull of his lips on your neck. He hummed into your flesh, licking gently before pulling back to mutter, "I wish you could come with us."

"I do, too," you smiled softly. "But I'll be right here for you both to come back to - tell me all about it."

Daemon chuckled, "Surely."

Speak of the Devil, and He will appear.

"MUMMY!"

"Vizzy!" You half-scolded, laughing when the door burst open to reveal your daughter in her dragon-riding gear. Not a moment later, your usual handmaid, Carlee, appeared out of breath, sighing with relief when she located Visenya. "I'm so sorry, Carlee, she's just like her father and avoids all authority," you laughed when the little girl climbed onto her father's lap.

"No, I apologize, Lady," Carlee panted, "I-I tried - but she - she's very fast."

"I've got her," Daemon dismissed stiffly, your glare doing nothing to him.

"Thank you, Carlee, we've got it from here," you amended to the kind, portly woman with greying red hair. She bowed out as you reached over to tickle Visenya, "And you, my little monster! Didn't I tell you to stop giving the nice ladies a hard time. Hmm? Yes?"

She laughed happily, squirming in Daemon's arms. He 'saved' her by snuggling his nose in her neck; the squealing continuing as she shouted, "He's tickling me, Mummy! Mummy! Mummy! Help me, Mummy!"

"Mummy can't help you," Daemon playfully growl, gnawing into her neck as she flailed in his grip.

"Daddy! Stop it!"

He sighed dramatically, "Oh, I suppose I could... If a certain princess promises to behave from now on."

"Of course, Daddy, it's riding day!" She exclaimed, settling more in his lap now that he stopped tickling her. Because it wasn't often that Daemon took her riding, she was usually always on her best behavior to ensure her favorite day actually occurred - but that didn't mean it was an exact science.

"Visenya, be good for Daddy, yes?" You directed, puckering your lips for her. She pecked them quickly, promising to be good, and then rushing away when Daemon told her to go get her gloves and boots. When alone again, he looked at you almost sadly.

"One day, we'll fly as a family," he promised, forehead to your own. "Do you need anything, love?"

"I'm good, thank you, though," you whispered. Then, your hands caressed your belly, sighing, "Not long now, huh?"

"It's both the longest and shortest time of my life," he laughed lightly. "But soon, we'll pray for the quiet of your womb again."

You laughed, bringing him in for a kiss. He reciprocated before you pulled back, insisting, "Go, before she burns the Keep down. You know Caraxes would do it, too, that beastie would do anything she says."

"So would we," he winced.

"We might wanna work on that..."

"In time," he teased, kissing you again. "Stay put."

"Yes, sir." He gave you a look, making you amend, "Yes, Daddy."

He chuckled, kissed you a final time, and then rose. Just as he was exiting the door, you heard him yelp your daughters name before a small bang - making you think Visenya had run full sprint at him and knocked him back a step or two.

Another few days dragged by. You were agitated, you were stir crazy, you were on the shortest fuse known to man. Visenya liked reading to you, working on her writing skills with you in bed; she even got to practice her hair braiding skills. When you snapped at servants and maids, Visenya was always chiding, "Mummy, that's mean."

She kept you level-headed.

Daemon was a wreck, however.

He was only one person and the fact that he needed to be several was far too stressful than he was ever willing to admit. "Daemon, my love," you called sternly, "stop your pacing and come here. Lay with me, please."

"I do not get that luxury - "

"It is not a luxury to nurture your seed in my body," you deflected. "Now, come here. Now."

Daemon glared, "Do not think you command me, woman."

"The vows we took certainly think I do. Armor off, boots off, hair down, get the fuck over here - now, Daemon."

He sighed and grumbled, grunting as he did what you told but made it known he wasn't happy about it. When he was dressed in nothing but linen trousers, he laid beside you. "Now what?" He snapped.

"Now hold your wife and child and just fucking breathe," you shot back, readjusting so you cuddled into him. "You reek tonight."

"Your list of demands did not include bathing, excuse me, Princess," he sneered in a condescending tone.

"Daemon, I just want you to take a pause," you bit. "You've been runnin' 'round with your head chopped off since finding out about this... This complication."

"I have much to do."

"I know, and that is why it's important to just slow down and simply breathe. Please, just breathe with me, Daemon, I need us both to be as okay as we can be for when this babe finally comes."

"There's no time - "

"We make our time,' you insisted. "Please, just pause."

He did, Daemon actually paused to just take a deep breath. After one, he took another... Then another, and another until he was doing it with ease and confidence. "I'm sorry," he whispered against your forehead, bringing you in closer. "I do not mean to take it out on you, pet, I am just... Well, you know."

"I know you're worried," you sighed. "Which is why we need this. Tell me of your day, today?"

Daemon didn't want to at first, but then relented and started on a snowball tangent that explained his foul mood. You listened, ear pressed to his pectoral; hands tracing absent patterns on the contours of his abdomen. Daemon usually tried his best to restrain himself with you, but you actively encouraged him and the more he talked, the more words that spewed from his mouth in a messy jumble. One arm remained wrapped around you, keeping you close, and his free one moved about in exaggeration.

"And to top the day off, you know what the bloody Septa told me? The one Alicent insisted was worth utilizing?"

"Septa Amelia?"

"Whatever," he huffed.

"What'd she say to you, my Prince?"

He sighed at the endearing tone you used for his title, knowing it wasn't a reference to his real station but instead, a pet name you had for him. Daemon sighed, "That Visenya might need shipped off to Dorne to attend that grueling, military school."

"She's only just turned five - "

"I am aware," Daemon cut you off. "I cursed at her before taking Visenya."

"Good, then I shall know who to yell at, too," your voice hardened. "Why do they complain about her so? 'S all I bloody hear, how our daughter's wild and untamed - saying we are unfit parents by the looks of her."

"She's fire in her blood because she is the Dragon's Seed, just as this one is, too," His hand laid over your belly. "And yet, I cannot understand why others voice their opinions on our family, which they are not entitled to an opinion on. Visenya grows within the Red Keep, she is not some wild animal, but perhaps, she lacks stimuli."

"How could we remedy that?"

"A tutor... Or a few, perhaps. From across the Narrow Sea," he told you, already sounding like he wasn't as angry as before. "Find us proper tutors who will take her on as a student to guide her where we cannot - and where others give up. What kind of a man would I be to ignore what someone blatantly needs that I can easily provide?"

You offered a small smirk, taking a fond note, "This isn't just 'someone', Daemon, you speak of our daughter. You're so good at this, you know... Taking care of us. Daddy takes care."

He tightened his hold, "I always will, my sweet."

It was quiet again, your stomach churning with discomfort; questioning, "Though I am wondering what she did today to prompt such a comment?"

He scoffed, "So, she set fire to some curtains, who bloody cares - "

You gasped shrilly as you sat bolt upright, "Visenya did what!?"

"No, hey, no," he reached for you, "no stress, no - "

But you were hobbling out of the bed before he could stop you, grumbling the entire time; yet the moment your feet hit the floor, you paused to heave for breath, stood, and felt the trickle of fluids from between your legs. "What?" You gasped, realizing what just happened, begging, "What? No, no, no, no, not now, little one, please, stay in there!"

Daemon vaulted himself over the bed and was at your side in an instant, guiding you to sit once more and promising, "I will get the Maesters. Just ease yourself, no stress, no worries, I'll get help - I'll get the Maester's." He meant to move away.

"No," you insisted, reaching for his tunic's collar to grip, yank, and hold him close, "I need you with me. We all do, please, do not leave me to do this life alone. D-Daemon, please, I'm so scared, do not leave me, I can't do this without you."

"I'm not going anywhere," he promised, taking your hand to hold, "but I need to get you help. Please, my love, you need the help."

You whimpered and got back on the bed by yourself as Daemon raced for the chamber door. He only took half a step, then shouted, "YOU! HEY, YOU! GET THE BLOODY MAESTERS! NOW! YOUR PRINCE DEMANDS IT!"

Ignoring whatever else he shouted, you got comfortable as the cramps began to twist in your lower gut - shooting pains down your legs, up your back, even tingling into your fingers. Sweat took hold of you like a bad fever, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew something couldn't be completely right. This sensation was strange, it wasn't at all a feeling you had when pregnant with Visenya.

Hours drug by as if sap dripping from a tree.

Your pain increased; sweating, grunting, moaning, groaning with displeasure. Daemon was stoic and quiet, just watching you writhe in pain as his heart cemented in his chest to sink into his feet and anchor him there. Visenya wasn't anything like this; he'd been present for that birth, too, and remember thinking how easy it appeared since the baby practically fell out of you.

This was much different.

"My Prince," the Maester approached him with a deep frown, "a word?"

"What?" He snapped, watching the Maester step to the side. Daemon sighed and followed, glaring, arms crossing as he demanded, "What is it?"

"My Prince, the babe will not come. I do not wish to beat around this bush, so I will tell you plainly. Sometimes, when the fetus is in a compromising position, a decision must be made: either the babe is cut from the womb and it survives or they both die or only the babe dies - there was a way to remove the baby surgically if that's the case. But you need to choose."

"Why do I have to choose? It's her decision - her body, her life, her choice."

"She is delirious with pain," the Maester deflected, "and if the babe is a boy, wouldn't you rather know and have him?"

"And lose my wife?" Daemon growled. "I think the fuck not. You will not put this decision on me, it is for her to decide."

He pushed past everyone to take the spot beside you and instantly pick up your hand. "Daemon," you sobbed, "for fuck's sake, please, please, just let this be over. Get the babe out."

"You're almost there, sweetheart."

But one of the Septas assisting the Maesters squeaked in mild alarm, and when Daemon looked, there was a significant amount of blood blooming under you. "She's bleeding, could be a hemorrhage," the Maester rushed, lifting your thin gown to judge the birthing canal.

"What's wrong?" You asked in a half-slur.

"Nothing, you're okay," Daemon assured softly, kissing your hand.

Your screams through labor echoed through empty stone halls. Your pain was tangible, your fear paramount. "What's wrong!?" You begged the room, "Why aren't they coming? Why won't our baby come?"

"We're trying, Princess," A Septa spoke softly.

You only cried until your exhaustion outweighed your consciousness; your mind going blank, eyes rolling back, and slipping into the weighted darkness from the blood loss. Daemon frantically shook your shoulder, begging, "My love, please! Wake up! Wake up now! What's going on!?"

"There's too much blood!"

"I told you to choose!" The Maester snapped at Daemon. "Now they will both lose their lives!"

Daemon felt his chest hallow - figuring the words were true enough. He couldn't decide, he refused to, and now you suffered and the possibility of losing your child was larger than before. "My Prince," a Septa approached, "you need to wait outside."

"No - "

"They need to operate, you cannot linger here," she insisted. "You will be called for."

He steeled his jaw, pointing a warning finger at the Maester, "Don't make the cut else your loved ones will only see you on a spike around the Red Keep."

Prince Daemon waited outside for another few hours. He paced, he refused food and drink, he simply wanted to be in there with you but had to begrudgingly put faith into the medical team working on you. He smirked when he saw his daughter, Visenya, round the distant corner and sprint up to him - Carlee chasing her.

"Are you skipping lessons, again, Little Dragon?" Daemon grunted as he caught his daughter - swinging her onto his hip by using the momentum from catching her.

"Where's Mummy and the baby?" She demanded.

Daemon sighed, "The baby doesn't want to come out, yet, love, so we can't see them yet."

"But it's been a day, Daddy!" She whined.

"I know, pet," he sighed with a frown, glancing at the closed door. "It's all right," he told the maid, "she can remain here with us."

"My Prince, she'd miss - "

"Lessons? You dare try to say lessons are more important?" He snapped.

"Daemon," Viserys frowned from his wheelchair. "Your anger is misplaced."

He hummed, readjusting his daughter on his hip as Alicent dismissed Carlee; letting Daemon begin to pace again. When the door opened, he whipped around, but only an in-training Maester slipped out of the room - giving no time to peer inside. "Well?" Daemon demanded.

"We are still working, My Prince, but I am to fetch more material," he answered, nodding once, then dashing away. It did nothing to settle his nerves, in fact, they tripled when the lad returned with a procession of aids - all carrying different material. They reentered the room, and Daemon felt his heart snap.

"Stay with Uncle, Little Dragon," Daemon told his daughter, approaching Viserys, offering him the child to which he accepted. "Stay here, do not move, Daddy has to check on Mummy. Yes?"

"Is she sick?" Visenya frowned.

"I'll check, my love."

"I can go, too, Daddy."

Daemon sighed through his nose, his daughter making him melt into a pile of nothingness - but reminded himself to stay firm. "No, love, you just stay here and Daddy will check," he assured softly as Viserys lifted his hands to keep hold of the young girl and ensuring she did not follow Daemon when he nodded, turned, and shoved through the door into the birthing chamber.

"My Prince!"

But Daemon couldn't move.

There was blood everywhere. Soiled linens, a drenched nightgown, scattered puddles of splattered life source across the floor. You looked delirious, confused; not fully present in your mind, and when he noted the Milk of the Poppy, he understood your pain was trying to be managed. Blood painted up and down your thighs; blood pooling under your cunt, but there was a baby's head visible.

Startled, he rushed for your side and knelt to take your hand. "My love," he breathed, "can you hear me? Are you with me? Please. Please, sweet wife, open your eyes and look at me."

When you did, he could tell you were unfocused and unsure who he was before realization dawned over your facial expression. "Daemon," you whispered, squeezing his hand slightly.

"I'm here, love," he promised. "Right here - I'm with you."

"The baby?"

"Almost," he promised, watching your eyes flutter.

"She needs to push, my Prince," the birthing maester instructed. "C'mon, c'mon, now's the time - push! Push, Princess, push!"

"C'mon, love!" Daemon encouraged, watching sweat glisten over every exposed surface of skin; jaw clenching, bearing down and pushing with might.

The screams echoed through the Keep, only drowned out when a storm rolled in that evening. The thunder masked the profanities shouted, lightning accompanied by each scream of pain as birth split you in half. Daemon did not leave your side, encouraging you through the entire ordeal, his trousers saturating with your blood as more dripped to the floor as you pushed, pushed, pushed, and pushed with all the strength you had.

"You gotta keep goin', love," Daemon would tell you, "gotta keep fightin' for this - don't stop now. I need you with us, our children will need us, this is not something I can do alone. Please," he begged, "do not make me say goodbye. Not until we're fat and old, remember? Huh? My precious love, you're almost done, but you have to keep fighting. It'll be worth it, soon. Just keep going!"

By the following morning, a babe was being pulled from your cunt with a gushing wave of fluid and blood - reminding the Maester very briefly of cattle birth. However, while relief colored your system, the medical attendants felt panic flood theirs - muttering, hushing, consulting the baby to the side as the Maester saw you through the afterbirth. "W-Wait," you slurred, "wh-where are they? Where? Daemon, wh-what is it? Girl or boy?"

He frowned, Septas, Silent Sisters, and other maids all huddled together without your child in sight. "I-I do not know, yet, sweetheart, but remain calm. The worst is over..." But when he looked down at you, he noticed how still you laid and felt his panic skyrocket. He begged your name several times, demanding you wake up, but you remained silent and still - skin even turning clammy as sweat dried. Daemon was actually pulled out of the way, two Maesters attending to your side, and he felt impossibly in the middle.

To his left, his child. To his right, his wife. Both of whom appear in distress, both of whom hold his worry. "She's clots again," he heard from the Maesters. "Not breathing," he heard from the Septas.

So, this is what Hell was like...

A shrill cry pierced the air, adrenaline draining from Daemon's blood as he realized this only meant the babe was okay. When he was approached with the bundle, he worried, "She should be the first to hold them."

"It's all right, my Prince," the Septa spoke softly, "you may hold her now, and later, you can lay her on your wife's chest."

Daemon nodded, taking the baby. He blinked, "Did you say, 'she'?"

"A girl, my Prince, healthy, strong, full-term."

"What's wrong with her?" He demanded. "Why does my wife not wake?"

"The blood loss," a Maester muttered, "'s gotta be the blood loss."

He couldn't move or breathe. His daughter screamed, still, but he was terrified by the sight of the Maesters flocking over your still-body. Daemon protested, but once more, he was asked to leave the chamber and had to be escorted - but he wanted to remain. He wanted to linger, to watch you, to ensure you were taken care of... Yet the bundle in his arms wriggled and sobbed, reminding him that he had a responsibility to his daughter that needed his attention.

"Daemon," Alicent perked up when the door opened, eyes widening at the sight of the Targaryen swaddle.

"Brother?" Viserys worried, eyes glistening as he assumed the worst.

"She's... She's not waking up," He spoke without emotion, "the Maesters are still working."

Viserys nodded, holding a sleeping Visenya on his lap still. "You need rest," he recommended.

"No, I think I will stay," Daemon refused.

"You can't function this way," Alicent tacked on. "The Maesters will still be at work, and even after, she will not be awake for hours. Milk of the Poppy is potent, and with her exhaustion, it's sure to be an intense combination."

He nodded slowly, "I want to be here."

So, Daemon remained.

He let Visenya sit with him on the stone bench outside the birthing chamber; his brother remaining to offer moral support alongside his wife until royal obligation can calling. He remained stoic, holding his daughter and only passing her off to the wet nurse when a feeding or cleaning needed attended to. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but when the doors opened, Daemon shot to his feet; leaving his infant daughter in Visenya's lap.

"She's asking for you," the Maester told Daemon, smirking slightly when the Prince charged for the room. He looked around at the disarray and how dwarfed you appeared in the bed; sheets still saturated with blood.

Never before had he felt such relief, dropping to his knees as if in prayer at your bedside; tearfully picking up your hand to kiss the back of it. "You're alive," he whispered in shock, "oh, bless the Seven, you're alive - you're still here with me. With us."

You could only manage a tired, half-smile, "Can't be rid of me that easy."

He snorted his amusement, "Thought I lost you for a moment there..."

"Sorry to scare you," you whispered, "but 's not easy pushing a baby from your cunt, huh?"

"No, definitely not. Especially a Targaryen, born of Fire and Blood," he looked close to tears, "they are known for their harsh entrance into this world."

"I'd endure all of it for our children," you mumbled, taking a long breath. "I'm tired, Daemon."

He looked to a lingering Maester, the one in training, asking, "Can she move back to our chambers?"

"She might not want to walk, yet," the lad advised, "but yes. Perhaps a familiar environment will help the healing process."

Daemon had a Maester carrying his infant daughter and escort Visenya to your living quarters while he brought you. He laid you in bed, ensuring your comfort before taking his daughter back in his arms, dismissing the staff, and telling Visenya to change into her loungewear. They were going to take a nap with Mummy...

"Daemon?" You mumbled.

"I'm here, love," he rushed to your side, "you all right? What do you need?"

"It's hurting," you frowned.

Daemon laid your daughter beside you in bed, furthest into the mattress, so he could prepare your next dose of Milk of the Poppy. Visenya, changed for the lazy day, jumped into bed with you, smiling at her new sister as Daemon changed himself. When he joined you in bed, he kept the baby between the two of you as Visenya deflated on Daemon's chest. She all but instantly fell asleep, both parents allowing for several long minutes to pass; ensuring their slumbering state.

"Did you pick a name?" You asked, tracing your fingertip along your baby's belly in soft, ticklish motions.

"Not yet," he answered. "Thought that should be a decision we agree on."

"I have no preference," you told him softly, "I'm just relieved she's here."

"You and me both," he whispered, leaning over to kiss your forehead. "You did such a good job, sweetheart, to endure this Targaryen Curse for our family - such a good job."

You smiled at him, catching his lips in a full kiss as the poppy released into your bloodstream. "I love you," you promised him.

"I love you," he echoed; the serenity surrounding you both in a warm embrace. Unable to help himself, Daemon teased, "So, when do you want our third child?"

You both had to suppress your humor to protect your sleeping daughters from being rudely woken.

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

[leviathanspain]

Hey! Saw you were looking for requests. I've seen Alicent's child!Reader manipulating Daemon into being on the Greens side. What about Alicent's daughter accidentally seducing Daemon? Like she's innocent and doesn't realise what she's done but Rhaenyra is not happy about it. (Rhaenyra still loves Daemon and can't get over the fact he is fall for her half-sister)

say yes to heaven

daemon targaryen x targaryen!reader

synopsis: your uncle always had a soft spot for you, but everyone else could see it was something more.

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your mother hardly ever touched you, let alone brush your hair. she was smiling, a pleasant one, as she followed the brush with her fingers, carefully raking through. it was quiet, the only sound was the crackling of the burning wood, candles flickering around you as you gazed into the mirror, eyes honing in on her face.

she put a hand on your shoulder, a hesitance to it that you wondered if she thought you wouldn’t notice. “you looked lovely today.” she commented, her fingers still going to play with your hair, “prince daemon couldn’t take his eyes off of you.” there was a twinge of disdain in her voice. your mother, after all these years, still couldn’t stand your uncle and half-sister. if she could avoid them all together, she would.

you grabbed the lock of silver hair from her fingers and brushed it forward. you looked down at the table in front of you, and noticed the silver hairbrush that your uncle had acquired for you on one of his many travels. you grabbed the silver hairbrush, giving it to your mother, “he was telling stories from his time in the kings guard.” you tried to brush off the tension, but alicent had grabbed the brush with reluctance.

“riñnykeā, come.” your uncle’s voice whispered in your ear, you turned to see his back, already walking off. you rolled your eyes, following closely as he walked. he was walking quickly, and you had to lift your skirts to try and catch up to him, “umbagon!” you shouted, and he slowed just enough for you to match his stride.

you were smiling now, a laugh just on the tip of your tongue as he bumped into you. you laughed, and shoved him lightly, “what is it you have to show me? is it so important that we have to practically walk half the keep?” you turned back to see the path you had been walking. it was far now, and daemon shrugged, “i know you’ll like this.” his eyes lingered, catching your gaze, you blushed and instead looked to the ground for the rest of your trek.

daemons eyes blazed with satisfaction as he saw you practically leaping up and down with joy. you grabbed him, pulling him into a hug as you still continued to squeal. he laughed, watching you light up was what he lived for.

“i assume the walk was worth it?” daemon raised his eyebrows, and you nodded, “very much so.” you grabbed the sword, grabbing it off the table it had been set on. you hissed slightly, and ignored daemons warnings of the metal still being hot. your fingers brushed over the large targaryen emblem, etched onto the swords hilt. there was a weight to it, but your body seemed to adjust. you swung it towards him, smiling, “perhaps the rogue prince would like to spar?” you looked at him, smirking as you brushed his shoulder with your blade.

hung on his hip was dark sister, and daemon couldn’t resist a challenge. he unsheathed it, watching as you stood firmly against him.

rhaenyra could hear the clashing of swords and laughter as she walked. the closer she got to the training room, the more she recognized you, and daemon.

she put a hand on the door, the commotion was now getting louder, and you were laughing more. daemon’s shouts could be heard, but they were in good spirit. rhaenyra swallowed thickly, and pushed the door open.

daemon had finally caught you. you had cut him on his cheek, and decided that running around the training room was apology enough. but he had finally caught you, dropping your blade, you laughed in his arms. “i’m sorry,” your finger moved to wipe the blood from his cheek, “i ruined your handsome face.” daemon hissed slightly at the contact, but shook his head, “you gave me a memory, riñnykeā. a story to tell.” he knew there was nothing more you loved than hearing his war stories, or his stories from his time as king of the narrow sea.

you nodded, “i guess so.” your hand lingered on his cheek, and you caught yourself staring into his eyes for too long, and your head dipped in embarrassment. you pulled away, but rhaenyra had already seen you.

rhaenyra couldn’t shake the nauseous feeling that crashed upon her. swallowing the rising bile wasn’t enough.

“daemon.” her voice sounded steady, there was no shakiness to it that would reveal how she felt. there was disgust, disgust that daemon was currently holding you, barely her sister, in his arms like a wife.

you were pulling away from him, but daemon held you in his arms still, his hand snaking around your waist, pulling at the skin. he looked at rhaenyra and raised his eyebrows, “what?” he sounded hostile, his jaw clenching as he stared at his wife.

you looked between them and realized there was something that neither of them were saying. you grabbed his hand, it was warm to the touch, but you peeled back his fingers, “thank you, uncle. for my gift, but i must go now.” you stepped back to retrieve your blade, tossed to the ground like an afterthought, daemon dipped his head slightly, “yes..” he trailed off, his hand swinging like dead weight as it fell from your waist. his head turned to rhaenyra, his mouth opening, but you were already too far to catch his words.

alicent glared at the blade, wrapped in one of your finer silks, sitting on your bed. you were at your vanity, removing your jewels, you began to undo your hair, preparing to brush it.

“what did rhaenyra say again?” alicent looked away from the blade, warily towards you. you shrugged, “nothing. all she said was his name and they stared at each other for a moment until i left.”

alicent hummed in response, and sighed, “are you to sleep with the blade now? not even your brothers sleep with their weapons.” her comment made you slid your eyes towards her, before scoffing, “my brothers might not sleep with weapons but they have slept with half of westeros.” you grabbed the silver hairbrush, and raked it through your hair, “my uncle gave me a gift that is more than just a weapon.” alicent stayed quiet, and moved to brush your hair, “i think daemon wants to give you more than just a sword.”

it was a week before you saw daemon again. you had been training with your new blade during, hoping to impress him with improved skills.

you had moved towards the stuffed sparring dummy, full of hay. your sword struck it, a deep slash appeared on the dummy’s stomach as you pulled your sword back. you huffed, staring down at your mark with pride.

the sound of clapping echoed out into the room and you turned, seeing your uncle with his shoulder leaning against the doorway. he continued to clap as he walked towards you. excitedly, you walked up to him, “what do you think?”

daemon neared you, grabbing your face in his hands, leaning down, he brought his lips towards yours, “magnificent..” and he brought them down, crashing against yours, you felt his teeth against your lips, moaning as you kissed him.

you dropped your blade again, your hands moving to grab at his back, pulling him closer. he pulled back, drawing a breath, he kissed you once more, “show me, show me again.” he panted, his voice sounded shaky, but his grip on you was determined.

rhaenyra couldn’t stop him. she had begged, pleaded that he leave you alone.

“how could you?!” her cries had been heard across the keep, horrified that her husband would present you with such a gift.

not for the fact that you were her sister, but because he was her husband.

but he was a man, a man she loved, even if he was corrupting her younger sister right before her eyes. she had seen him slip away, knowing where he was off to. all rhaenyra could do was sit in front of the fire, and try not to vomit up the contents of her stomach.

“show me again.” daemon pulled at the shoulder of your dress, his fingers pulling at the fabric. you shuddered at the cold air hitting your bare skin, and did as he said, moving gracefully as your sword cut through the air. daemon watched you, his eyes enchanted by your movements, he couldn’t deny himself of you. finally, with a frustration to it, he pulled your dress down from the shoulder, the fabric tearing roughly as you gasped. nearly dropping the sword, you pawed as your dress fell around you in ribbons.

daemon didn’t miss a beat, “show. me. again.” he demanded, his voice was powerful, showing of the authority he once had.

“yes, my prince.” you whispered, and continued to cut through the air, smiling as you did so.

[daemontargaryenwhore]

Me: "Fck House of the Dragon. I'm not waiting 2 years in between seasons".

Me after House of the Dragon Season 2 trailer dropped:

[saltywritings]

(in the still of the night | aemond targaryen x strong! reader)

summary: the reader and aemond reconnect at the red keep after years of being apart. it is here the both of you reconnect with the reemerging memories of when the both of you were young. memories in italics.

warnings: mentions of death and murder, betrothal, sexual tension but no smut, yet. cursing?

word count: 3,835 words.

authors note: i do hope you enjoy reading this as much as i have had writing it. please consider reblogging or leaving a comment if you do enjoy. if this does well i will make a second part that will be absolutely filthy.

it was odd to you. the memories that flooded to you so clearly as you walked down the halls of the castle. eyes catching the stained glass windows of dragons, carefully moving up the stone steps as you did as a child. you remembered all the times you tripped down them, bruising your knees chasing after the young prince's. you remembered of how you ran down the halls hiding from them. you remembered sneaking out at night to the kitchens and eating cakes in the gardens under the light of the moon with aemond until your eldest brother dragged you back to your chambers.

yet, it was now as you remembered how close you and aemond had been as children. your eyes catching the garden from within the castle walls.

"y/n! y/n, wait up." aemond's voice rang in your head. nothing more than just a whisper as the two of your crept through the halls. aemond in his sleep shirt and you in your nightgown. if the two of you had not been children the situation would have been frowned upon, heavily. for you more than him considering your status as a lady.

you bare feet slowed as you looked behind you. waiting for an out of breath aemond to catch up. the targaryen prince had been holding a napkin, the cloth tied shut, and his fist holding the knot tightly. aemond took your hand in his own once he reached you, pulling you with him now through the halls and into the gardens. your feet ran against the soft grass and under the godswood. you sat beside the prince, as your little fingers fumbled with the tight knot. aemond helped you untie it and slid himself closer to you. the both of you side by side and your little fingers were pinching at the lemon cake.

"i stole this at dinner," aemond informed you as he shoved some of the cake in his mouth.

"did anyone see you?" you questioned softly, filling your own mouth as you did.

"just aegon-" aemond stopped himself. the boy remembered of how aegon called him a pig for taking more. though, he knew not of the nights that he shared with you, and aemond simply told his older brother to fuck off. "but he doesn't know." aemond assured you.

"good, your brother likes to make the worst of everything. doesn't he?" you remarked rather casually- but aemond had stopped eating. your dark eyes looking up now with regret in your own words. you had known how his brother and his nephews would torment him. aemond told you, here in the gardens, when the both of you were alone. "aemond-" your voice soft, your hand going to meet his again to comfort him.

what little comfort you felt you could offer. you hadn't known it now, but it was the only comfort aemond had ever known.

"it would be different if i too had a dragon." aemond defended himself, his eyes saddened and he looked down to his lap.

"dragons aren't everything, aemond. i don't have a dragon and i'm-" you were trying to comfort him, but the boy was quick to snap again.

"you wouldn't understand y/n- you're just a strong." aemond snapped at you. you closed your mouth and looked away, aemond quickly realizing his mistake in snapping at you and his hands grabbed at yours again. "no, no, y/n. i'm sorry. i didn't mean it in that way" he pleaded with you. his voice near begging you to turn to look at him. his fingers placed at your jaw as you turned to meet his eyes. "i'm a targaryen. we're dragon riders; all of them are but me. and- and its not fair" aemond eventually crumbled. you recalled as tears had begun to run from his eyes. aemond fell into your arms and wept.

"i'm sorry, aemond. i am." you whispered in an attempt to comfort him. your arms wrapped around the crying boy and help him close, he would sniffle and eventually pulled himself together.

"i wish i could take you on dragon back with me. so that way you would understand." aemond pleaded.

"maybe one day you will," you smiled to him and aemond smiled back to you at the very thought.

the sweet moment between the two of you was short lived, as your eldest brother harwin came storming into the garden. you barely had a moment to scramble to your feet before he grabbed onto your arm.

"y/n, how many times have i told you not to be sneaking out with the prince after dark?" harwin questioned you. your face went pale as his dark eyes peered into your own. "keep this up and i'll tell father you need to go back home. to harrenhal." he threatened. you began to resist him, began to plead, but aemond would have none of this.

"ser harwin strong. you will let lady y/n go. your prince demands it." aemond's voice was weak but he knew what to say. harwin, however, looked to the boy debating on what to do. "unhand her or i will tell my mother what you've done here on this night" aemond threatened again.,

harwin let go of your arm in a bit of a gruff, "the king wants the both of you in bed. go on your way or i will tell father, y/n." he demanded. the two of you would run off to your own chambers. but it was far from the last time the both of you had snuck out.

you were only a babe when your father brought you with him to the red keep. his first daughter, the product of his third wife. lyonel strong the newly appointed hand of the king had hoped that the court of the red keep would raise his daughter well. that you would grow in the mannerisms of a lady. lyonel thought this was be good for you. but if he had known of what was to happen he would have never allowed your mother to carry you past the door.

it was there in the red keep that you were raised closely with the kings own children as well as the princess's sons. the seven of you were only children, but even then the tensions had grown. even though you were only a girl you could see it. though, the turmoil's of your life had made you long forget the ones held at the court of the red keep.

your eyes stared at the godswood, reminiscing when you hear someone summon you.

"lady tyrell, it has been too long since you've last visited the red keep." you heard a voice call from behind you, lady tyrell a name you never really adjusted too. behind you was the sight of the queen.

"you grace," you bowed before her, queen alicent. "that it has been," you smiled to her softly.

"you're not with your husband?" she questioned you, her own hands brought together.

"no. lord tyrell is resting from the journey. he does not do well in far travels. even in the carriage." you insisted, giving her a smile to which alicent nodded in understanding.

"well, i do hope you get the chance to properly visit with aemond while you're here. i recall the two of you were good friends all those years ago." alicent spoke very matter of fact, but the mention of aemond was enough to make you smile.

"yes. i recall the same," you hummed. "where is the prince? i do hope our paths may cross before I retire with my husband." you questioned alicent who could not resist the smile that fell on her pale lips.

"aemond? he's off with vhagar, of course." alicent was practically musing.

you never got the privilege to see aemond on a dragon. you heard word at high garden when prince aemond lost his eyes. when he claimed vhagar as his dragon. there had never been a smile on your face like the one you had that day. though, you wished the letter would have been from aemond. for reasons that seemed obvious now aemond never wrote to you and you were never allowed to write to him.

perhaps it had been more obvious to everyone, but the both of you that the two of you were smitten over each other at a young age. perhaps it was the fact you were children, or perhaps it was that each of you lacked the confidence, but neither of you were able to see it yourself. aegon would constantly berate aemond every time he looked longingly in your direction. "can't you be more obvious? looking at y/n like she's a dragon. like looking at things you'll never have?" aegon would taunt constantly. he would get close to you. his hands wrapping around yours as you played just to bother his brother.

but you had never seen it. now, you could look back on your time together and the feeling in your chest grew warm. though the feeling was quickly snuffed out by the reminder of your station. a married woman. your husband was many years your successor and the two of you were yet to conceive a child after all these years together. your marriage to him felt like torture as the years passed on. he was never specifically cruel or vile towards you, not in the way that you heard stories of men hitting their wives or calling them names. but there had been no love in your marriage and you knew that you never would come to love him. for when you looked into his eyes all you could feel was loss. perhaps things could have been different had your father not betrothed you so young.

even that night as you laid next to your sleeping husband under the canopy you were unable to find sleep. you had hoped the journey would be enough to make you rest and yet? your eyes continued to look at the black silk of the canopy curtains. you stood from the bed, pulling on a robe to cover your nightgown, and quietly left the bedroom chambers. you walked along the torches through the halls you would sneak around when you were a child. there was an uneasiness about walking amongst the castle this late. part of you worried that harwin would be around the corner ready to scream at you to go back to your chambers. another part of you feared your own father may come to question why you were out of bed. though, you reminded yourself that was not possible. if anyone were to come for you here it would be larys. your last brother. the one who summoned you and your husband to the red keep in the first place.

it was a cruel thought to think. but you often thought of what your life would have become if your father would have died after your betrothal. if larys would have allowed you to stay there, with him at the red keep. it was a bitter thought. wishing he had been dead sooner, and yet? you thought it often. you didn't want to. in fact you tried not to think of nothing at all. your feet reached the open gardens and you paid no mind to the bitter air that attacked your exposed skin. you tried to look at the godswood, at the flowers in the moon light. anything to not think about your father or harwin. however, at the red keep again the thoughts felt impossible to keep away. you could not begin but to remember of how you cried the day that you found out your father had betrothed you after lord tyrell's first wife had passed. you went crying from the room after begging him and pleading with him to change his mind. to reconsider. but your father had made his decision. he promised you that one day you would thank him for the position he arranged for you. a chuckled slipped your lips, wondering if the time to be thankful would ever come.

"still sneaking away from your chambers at night?" the voice mused on. it was familiar and you could not help the smile that flooded to your lips as your turned around to see behind. before you stood aemond targaryen. taller than you remembered, leaner, his hair long and a patch covering his eye. he had been dressed in black, from head to toe. aemond did not look as you remembered him to look. though you were sure you did not look as he had remembered you either. still, the both of you smiled to one another.

"aemond-" you cheered gleefully. you were quick to rush into his arms. it was not proper of either of you. both knowing anyone could see, that neither of you respected the formalities. that the two of you now stood in the gardens as you did when you were children. his arms wrapped tightly around the frame of your body and your face nuzzled into his chest. you would hold one another for longer than two friends should before creating distance again. you looked up at aemond's face and his eye had been on you and only you. "you've grown-" you remarked, the smile not fading from your lips.

"as have you, y/n" aemond spoke. he reached out, carefully. taking your hand in his own and beginning to pull you along with him gently. "come on, y/n. there's something i want to show you." aemond instructed you. there was a small part of you that knew you shouldn't go with him. that you were a married lady in her night clothes with nothing but a robe to keep your modesty. though you followed aemond, without a second thought. despite what you knew you did not hesitate as aemond led you through the castle and you blindly followed him through the red keep. down the castle stairs and outside beyond the castle walls.

"should we be here, aemond?" you questioned following him blindly into the dark.

"if i told you we weren't would you turn back?" aemond did not as much as look to you he only continued walking.

"never" you confessed.

"then, no. we shouldn't. but i've been waiting years to show you vhagar" aemond continued to lead you through the field but it was easy to see her. the sight of her was near frightening to you. involuntarily your body moved closer to aemond's, the sight of her was frightening, but aemond could not help but to smile as he watched you cower. "it's okay. she won't hurt you when you're with me. i swear it." he reassured you as he approached vhagar.

your eyes took in the dragon before you and aemond was quick to move to the netting that hung from her side. one of his hands gripping onto it as he once again pulled you close to him. "you trust me, don't do you?" aemond questioned his hand bringing yours to the rope.

"yes," you confessed near breathless. it was now that aemond helped you up the dragon's side. him behind you, arms wrapped around grabbing onto the net, as he helped you climb her. when finally up, one of his hands gently held your waist get onto the saddle. aemond quickly pulled himself behind you. both of his hands pulling you from behind in a way that your back was against his chest and his arms were wrapped around your torso as he grabbed the reigns of the dragon. this was the moment that aemond has always wanted to show you, and as vhagar took off he could not contain the smile that made his way to his face as he watched your first ride on a dragon. aemond would take you flying on vhagar, the wind in your hair as you screamed with joy. your robe no longer tied as aemond kept his arms wrapped around you tightly. where aemond took you was unrecognizable to you now. some distant place from kingslanding; perhaps you knew it when you were a child but you had known it no longer now. aemond was quiet at the two of you sat on the ground. his arms were still wrapped around yours and his eye had been looking to you.

"i have missed you, here. y/n . . . " aemond confessed as your eyes looked up to meet his. a soft smile glowing on your lips.

"as i have missed you, my prince" you cooed to him softly, sitting up so that the two of you could be face to face. there was a silence that followed. a feeling that did not go away and it strained your chest and weakened your legs. you felt it when he looked at you the way he did now. aemond's hand cradled your face, pulling you close to him by your jaw, and without asking he pressed his lips onto yours. you kissed him back, your soft subtle lips that fought against his own. his hand grabbing onto the neckline of your nightgown as he begun to pull at it, exposing the skin of your shoulder. the sudden feeling of your duty flooding you through the mess of passionate kisses the two of you were ingulfed in.

"wait, wait- aemond we shouldn't do this." you attempted to stop what was unfolding before you. aemond kissed you again, and once again you kissed him back. your eyes closed before pulling yourself from his lips again. a nearly impossible task. "no, aemond. i'm married. i have a husband-" you pleaded.

the very mention of your husband was enough to make his blood boil. his face went cold for a moment as aemond remembered when he had found out about your betrothal. you were only given a day to pack your belongings and leave for high garden.

aemond remembered how your father had pulled his sobbing daughter away from the prince. he too had been in tears at the announcement. it was the last time he had seen you. being dragged by your father as you sobbed. the image of you in tears stuck in his mind as the years passed. you hadn't known this; your father never told you, and aemond never got the chance to, but the moment your father dragged you away aemond went running in tears to his mother. the youngest born prince burst into her room and ran to her. alicent's arms opened immediately and frantically.

"what is it? what happened, aemond? tell me-" alicent went frantic. she had never seen aemond so upset before and she worried that someone had been hurt.

"he betrothed her- y/n. lynoel strong. he betrothed her to the lord of high garden. he- he-" aemond was sobbing and alicent's arms were quick to wrap around her son. she had known what everyone around the castle had known. if anything she was waiting for this day to come and she rubbed her sons back as he wept into her chest.

"oh, aemond." alicent sighed. the queen paused attempting to gather some kind of comfort for her youngest son. "there comes a time in every young girls life when she must be betrothed. to become a wife." alicent begun to give her speech but aemond begun to push her back his face now red and flushed with anger.

"mother. no- i'm not upset about her being betrothed. i just-" aemoond stopped himself for a second before finally letting it out. "she should have been betrothed to me! not some lord of high garden. a rose? we're dragons- why not me?" aemond was sobbing again. "is it because i'm not the first born son?" he questioned tears in his eyes again. "is it because i don't have a dragon?" aemond wept again.

"no no, aemond. that's not why, darling" alicent quickly tried to scoop up her son, but he pushed her away the moment she came in contact with him. "aemond, please- i know she is your friend-" alicent hardly got a chance to get her words out before aemond interrupted her again.

"she's not just my friend." aemond spoke up, feeling a need to make his message clear on how important this was to him. "she's the only person in this whole bloody castle who treats me like i'm not wrothless." aemond spat out through his own sobs. alicent looked with sympathetic eyes. unsure what she had the power to do and in turn, she caved.

"i will offer lord strong a marriage proposal for her hand in place of lord tyrell. do you understand?" alicent attempted to clean her son's face. aemond would nod finally accepting his mothers arms again.

alicent would make the proposal to lynoel strong. y/n strong and prince aemond targaryen, to be wed in a few years time. but your father denied it without consideration. he did not waiver. he did not even give her a reasonable doubt. instead, lynoel sent you away to high garden and you watched, weeping out of a carriage window unaware that aemond was even an option for you. aemond, however, had known that some day you would return to him. if it were by the hands of the gods or his own hand.

now you were in his arms and there had only been one problem. your husband. something aemond thought about long before you arrived. "y/n. your husbands dead-" aemond informed you, he did not waiver. not once as he spoke. a look of confusion consumed your features.

"aemond . . ." you trailed off in your own confusion. "what are you talking about?" you questioned him brows furrowed together.

"he's gone, y/n. dead. that fat fool was smothered in his bed." aemond informed you without mercy. without remorse. still you looked at him in confusion, horror- unsure on how to process what aemond was saying to you.

"aemond. did you- did you have my husband killed?" you asked bluntly. there had been no mannerism that could have asked what you were asking him now. what you had already known. aemond smiled.

"obviously. hadn't you wondered why larys requested that the both of you come to kings landing? come on, y/n. i know after all these years at high garden you haven't become daft. i never stopped thinking about you." aemond confessed, his hand returned to your jaw and gently pulled you in closer to him. eye to eye, nose to nose. "even the largest dragon in the world could not fill the hole that you left behind." he confessed, his breath hot on your face.

"say you'll marry me. we'll set things right. say you'll marry me and be my wife. marry me and carry my heirs. say it, y/n." aemond was practically pleading with you. but the pleading had not been necessary. aemond had you wrapped around his finger.

"i'll marry you-"

[aemxnd]

midnight rain | daemon targaryen x niece!reader

Can the sunshine win over the darkness?

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

WORDS: 5.3k (I’m so sorry)

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

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

My requests are open! 🖤

Such a pretty little songbird.

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

All the while under the careful eye of your kepus. 

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

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

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

But not in the eyes of your kepus. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Some flowers bloom only when the sun sets. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Kepus, what—?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Beautiful mother. 

~~All of me changed like midnight~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Such a pretty little songbird. 

In such a pretty little cage.

[ultralightpoe]

House of the Dragon Masterlist

Updated House of the Dragon Masterlist, all the links should be working now. (Ps. it's mostly Aemond)

You can find my MAIN Masterlist here.

Last Updated: 3-28-24

"Exhausting, wasn't it? Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness. But now they see you as you are."

-ALL WRITING IS AT A PAUSE BUT REQUESTS ARE OPEN!-

-Aemond Targaryen-

Blood of My Blood - - Part 2 - - Part 3 - - {Finished ;) }

Kin of Mine - - Part 2 - -

Salt The Earth Behind You - - And Let The Blood Bind You

Mistaken Hatred

Silent Heartbreaks

The Marriage

The Deal

Willing

Nightmares

The Court - - The Absinthe

Did You Hear The Rain?

You Might Be Sleeping

The Summoning

Love Story

Dancing With Your Ghost

Everyone I Love Is Dead

Tear You Apart

Me & The Devil

The Great War (Midnights Album Event)

All Hallows Eve (2023 Halloween Event)

Rubies Hidden With Blood

-Daemon Targaryen-

Simplicity of the Winds

-Rhaenyra Targaryen-

Faith in the Sword

[angelltheninth]

Daemon Not Being a Morning Person

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, naked cuddling, morning after, shoulder kissing, cuddles

Flufftober Day 11: “Oh no, you’re a morning person.”

A/N: Posting a lot for flufftober today.

You'd think that with his reputation Daemon would be a very early riser. Normally yes, not when he spent the whole night with you in his bed, making you moan his name over and over until you lost your voice. How many rounds did you go for? You both lost count. And now you were trying to slip away from his arms before he's even fully awake?

"Oh no, you're a morning person." Came his rough, hoarse voice and soon after his arms around your waist, one hand pressing against your lower stomach. You shivered, not from the morning air but from feeling his skin against yours again, which brought back memories from las night.

"Last time I checked so were you." You turned around, shifted back on top of him and pinned his wrists to the sides of his head. "Or I you saying that I tired the great Daemon Targaryen? What an honor."

He did not appriciate your teasing but it didn't seem like he was gonna punish you for it either. "You wish. As far as I remember you were the one who told me you couldn't take anymore. I'm mearly being considerate of you." There was that smile of his, shining in the morning light, his hair somehow still perfect after you constantly pulled on it last night, not a strand out of place except that one that almost always fell over his forehead in that cute way.

"You could always entice me to spend the morning with you." As if there was need for that, you were already sliding your body against his, careful not to put pressure on yourself down below as you still ached in those places. "What will you give me if I stay?"

"Everything." Daemon whispered as he planted the softest kiss you've ever felt on your left shoulder. "Weather of not it's within my power I will find a way to give you what you ask of me." From flirty to soft, he could do it so seamlessly and make your heart explode in a second. "Will you stay just a while longer?"

[lokisprettygirl]

Close Ties (Daemon Targaryen x Female Reader) (Modern AU) (Non canon) (18+)

Read Chapter 3 // Series Masterlist

Chapter 4

Summary: Things get messier as you both try to ignore the undeniable chemistry between yourselves.

Warning: 18+, smut, dad's best friend trope, canon (we don't know her), familial uncle niece sort of relationship but he's not really her uncle, there will be more smut later, significant age gap but reader is in her mid twenties, mention of infidelity, divorce, smoking and alcohol drinking,

You were finally back home at your parent's when you realised Daemon was going to live with them, thankfully you didn't have to be there forever, you had your own place a few miles away but your parents insisted for you to stay a little longer, none of your excuses worked on them.

It's been three days since you had been here, Everytime your eyes met with Daemon you looked away, ever since he had reminded you that he remembered the night you have been avoiding him and he had noticed, of course he did.

If all of this wasn't bad enough you also overheard Cassandra fighting with him last night, well to be fair she was the one yelling and he was trying to pacify her. Later that night she entered your room with a puffed up post crying face and you somehow managed to keep her away from him after that but she seemed as if she was utterly devastated by this thing ending between them which you didn't understand..

Aemond had been in touch with you via calls and texts but you hadn't met up with him since Bali, also your ex Dylan has been calling you at least ten times a day. When Cassandra finally went back to her place the next day you walked towards Daemon's room and knocked, he had just returned from a meeting with your dad, he wanted Daemon to work for him. The richer he got the more users he befriended which wasn't good for his business and he wanted Daemon to handle his finances now. He trusted Daemon more than anyone else in his life.

Why didn't he stop him from leaving then all those years ago?

As he opened the door he was still in his business suit, he had earpods in and you realised he was on a call so you tried to excuse yourself and leave but he grabbed your arm and pulled you into the room slowly, he still had his eyes on you even though he was completely engrossed in that other conversation. Okay he didn't have to be so goddamn sexy all the time.

He had his hand wrapped around your upper arm as he walked back and forth while he kept the call going, taking you along with him like a child on a ride.

"Sorry dear, I had to finish that call" he mumbled as he let go of you and put his phone down on the bed, then he took his coat off, loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves one by one revealing those gorgeous forearms. You almost forgot why you were there in the first place.

"What is wrong?" He asked you so you crossed your arms together.

"What did you say to Cassandra? She's a mess..I have never seen her be this way.. usually uhhh it's the other way around" his brows furrowed as you said that.

"I told her the truth.. I'm not her boyfriend, we are not in a relationship..i had to end things so I did" he told you as he took his tie off, and unbuttoned the top three buttons of his white shirt. His room smelled like his cologne, you felt the need to bask in it and snuggle to his thick daddy body but you were discussing the matters of your best friend with him instead.

"She ummm.. wants to keep the fling going" he looked at you as you said that, he wasn't fazed at all.

"I don't give a shit about what she wants darling" He snickered so you glared at him and the smirk vanished almost instantly "Why are you upset with me?" He asked you so you shrugged again,

"I am not upset with you ..uncle"

"Then why have you been ignoring me?"

"I'm not ignoring you uncle"

Uncle uncle uncle. He wasn't sure if he wanted to be your uncle anymore.

"Alright Pixie.. whatever you say" he smiled as he walked towards his closet to grab a towel, your phone started to ring so you took it out of your pants pocket and groaned as you looked at another unknown number.

"Well I'll see you at dinner then.. uncle" you turned around swiftly to leave, closing the door on your way out. Daemon knew now that he shouldn't have slept with your best friend but he wasn't in his senses, he felt lonely and he needed someone to distract him, he had no clue Cassandra would become such a pain in the ass, he probably would have kept the thing going if she wasn't such a brat.

While in the shower he looked back at the last three days and he knew you were ignoring him ever since he had reminded you that he remembered that night when he had subtly caressed your lips and kissed your cheek followed by that not so innocent intimate hugging.

He was drunk and he had lesser control on his actions that night, he was just glad he was able to pull away at the right time. However your reaction to him was what kept him up that night, the way you clutched your fingers around his neck and hugged him so tightly was seared in his memory and now you were avoiding him.

Were you embarrassed by your reaction or you felt violated by him? He needed to make sure he hadn't done something that would make you see him differently, sure he had hots for his best friend's daughter but he wasn't going to let it ruin things between him and your family.

At the dinner table he watched you grimacing as your phone continued to bother you once in a while, as your eyes met with him he gave you a smile so you returned it. You didn't want to be rude even though you were starting to feel a bit of underserved resentment towards him.

His plan to enjoy his dinner in peace after a long day also was ruined as he watched Cassandra sauntering towards the table,

"Hello everyone" she smiled as she sat down next to you.

Throughout the dinner she continued to glare at him and even you noticed that, she has known him for mere few days so her obsessive behaviour towards him didn't make much sense to you. What did she want from him? More sex?

Once she was done eating you dragged her back to your room before she'd make a scene in front of your parents.

"Cass what are you doing? You didn't even tell me you were joining us for dinner" you asked her so she chuckled as she sat down on the bed and proceeded to cross her legs elegantly.

"Really? Now I have to take appointments to see you guys? Since when?" She asked you as she tilted her head so you sighed and walked towards her to give her a hug.

"That's not what I meant..look ..he's not the first man you have had a fling with. Why are you so affected by this?" You asked her calmly so she whined like a child.

"I don't know..I just ..I'm not used to guys breaking off things with me..you have no idea how this feels"

Well she was bothered because she hasn't been rejected before in her life? Yeah you couldn't relate.

"He's not just some guy cass..he's my ..hes..like my uncle..you knew what you were getting into right? My dad just got his friend back and I need him to stay.. please just forget about him"

"I need him back so I can reject him" she smirked and you just wanted to slap her in the face at the moment.

"You're being ridiculous" you told her plainly and all you got in response was an eye roll..

Your phone rang once again and you wanted to throw it out the window this time, you had blocked Dylan's number like five times but he was very persistent just the way he was in the beginning of your relationship with him.

As Cassandra finally left you made your way downstairs, you really needed to go out for a stroll to clear your head. On the way out your dad spotted you leaving since he was with Daemon in the living room discussing business and he was concerned that you were going out alone at such an hour so he asked Daemon if he'd mind joining you..

"Can I accompany you pixie?" Daemon asked you softly so you nodded. Well you'd let him do anything if he asked like that.

"Keep her safe mate" your dad said to him so he smiled in response..

As you began to walk away from your parents house there was an awkward silence between you two but you were the first one to break the ice.

"I can walk by myself, I'm not a kid you know" you said to him so he chuckled,

"I don't think of you as one Pixie" his rough voice gave you goosebumps, "that wouldn't discourage me from wanting to keep you safe though" you smiled as he said that

"Mmm i appreciate that"

"Are you alright? You seem a bit troubled. Who's bothering you?"

He asked so you chuckled, at least he cared. You were not used to being cared for. Sometimes you felt as if you were always there for Cassandra but she wasn't always there for you when you needed a friend to share your troubles with or just vent like a normal person..

"Well for one…Cassandra is bothering me with her constant cribbing.. and she's cribbing because of you so you're also bothering me" His smile faded as you said that ..he didn't want that for you. He never wanted to do something that would bother you.

"I'd apologise pixie but I'm not sure how I can fix the situation now "

Well don't fuck her again you thought. You suddenly felt bad about saying that to him, you didn't want to make him feel obligated for your mood swings or upset him in any way. Cassandra knew what it was from the beginning, he was honest with her, he didn't promise her the world and then broke them all.

Late at night you couldn't bear the guilt of supposedly upsetting him or making him sad so you got up and made your way to his room, you didn't have to knock as he had kept his door open.

"You're not bothering me I swear..I'm sorry i said that" you mumbled hurriedly as soon as you entered his room, he was fixing his hair so he put the comb down on the dresser and walked towards you..

"You don't have to apologise"

"I do..I keep snapping at you for no reason and it's not fair...I just forget at times that you're going through something as well and I'm..sorry " you mumbled softly so he smiled,

"I asked you a question during our stroll ..this time answer me truthfully.. Who's bothering you?" You sighed as he questioned you again, maybe sharing with him would feel better.

"It's just my ex..he keeps calling me" his brows furrowed as heard your response.

"That cheating arse?"

"Yup"

"What does he want?"

"Probably wants to get back together.. whatever..i don't even ..want to know" you shrugged as you crossed your arms together, even though deep down all you wanted to do was cry and then cry some more.

"Cheaters always cheat again.. remember that"

"Mmmhmmm ..he didn't just cheat though, he did something else too that i…" his jaw clenched and it wasn't unnoticed. What were you insinuating here? What did he do with you?

"What did he do darling?"

"It doesn't matter"

"It always does"

Your eyes teared up as you felt completely overwhelmed all of a sudden, maybe it was the concern he showed towards you that got you finally. You really weren't used to someone making you feel as if your issues mattered as well. You had the best life your parents could have given you, you were very privileged, never had to struggle for anything you wanted but that didn't mean you weren't hurt or used by other people or had your humanely emotions.

"Hey …come here" he grabbed you by the shoulders and pulled you into his chest, as soon as you felt his warm embrace you broke down in cries, you really needed a good cry but your mind has been so occupied lately with millions of conflicting feelings that you weren't allowing yourself to have a moment of weakness.

Gods you never wanted to leave how his arms felt around you ..so strong, so protective and so very warm.

"I just…feel so inadequate sometimes" you sobbed uncontrollably between your words so he cupped your cheeks and wiped your tears with his thumbs, you didn't want to look up, you felt afraid you'd do something stupid if you looked him in the eye..you were so close to him at the moment and you had a feeling that this was the extent of what you could get from him, there was a line that both of you couldn't have crossed..

"I know how that feels..i understand pixie..don't cry sweetheart, you're okay..I'll keep you safe..you just have to come to me" he mumbled softly as he kissed your forehead, your fingers clutched the fabric of his shirt, skin was tingling from head to toe and you wanted him to touch you in places he would never ever touch you that way.

"I'm sorry..I'm so sorry" you mumbled between your hiccups so he shook his head in response,

"Shhhhh..I'll take care of you..I'm here now"

He wrapped his arms around you again and caressed your back until your sobs had diminished.

Why did he have to be your dad's friend? Why couldn't he just be another guy? Those were the thoughts swirling around your head, if he wasn't so familial you'd have made your move and kissed him by now because you really wanted to. You really wanted to just get on your tiptoes and kiss him, and then do stuff with him that would make him see you differently, anything other than the daughter of his friend.

Once you had calmed down you pulled away and finally built the nerve to look at him, his expressions were soft, the problem was that even if he was seeing you differently now none of you could have crossed that line, you would remain forbidden to him and he was to you.

"Feeling better?" He asked you so you gave him a nod and a small smile,

"Are you sleepy?"

"I am tired"

"Then you should sleep.. uncle. I'll see you tomorrow"

"Okay.. sweetheart"

"Thank you for comforting me.. I needed that"

He nodded as you said that, as you left he closed the door and then stood there with his head resting on it for what felt like eternity. When he came back he just wanted to rebuild his life here again, he hadn't forgotten what had happened between him and his friend but he wanted to give that broken relationship a second chance since he gave her a countless chances but he wasn't ready to get caught up in this mess, he never saw this coming, He never thought he'd suddenly develop sexual feelings for his supposed niece. This wasn't supposed to happen and it never should have happened.

The sexual desire combined with the emotional attachment that he already had with you since you were a child made him feel perverse, and he was afraid the longer he stays around you the worse it will get for him.

Next day he didn't see you around the house since you were at work, when you came back you had Aemond by your side and he honestly didn't know how to feel about it, he fucked your best friend so there's no way he could have asked you to not date his nephew.

He watched you giggle and laugh at whatever unfunny jokes Aemond told you at the dinner table and he found himself feeling something he had not felt in a while, he was jealous. Jealous of his own nephew making his so-called niece laugh.

As Cassandra appeared suddenly he groaned internally but pretended as if he wasn't affected by her at all.

"Hey guyyysss" she giggled as she hugged you and then she hugged Aemond , he was a bit surprised but he reciprocated the hug, then she proceeded to greet your parents.

You had an empty chair right next to you but she walked around the table and sat down right next to Daemon. Daemon couldn't help but wonder if you felt jealous of the attention he had been giving to Cassandra?

"Hey Daemon" she mumbled as she looked at him so he gave her a smile. He didn't want to be unnecessarily rude to her if she wasn't acting like a psychopath.

"I can't say how happy I am that you both are dating" she raised her glass of wine to both so you shook your head immediately.

"We are not dating..just friends" you clarified as you felt everyone's eyes on you, especially Daemon's, you wanted to hide from his intense gaze. What was he thinking? It was so weird, when you both were talking to each other there was no awkwardness at all but as soon as you both were around other people you felt such tension between you both. The sort of tension that could resolve by ripping each other's clothes off.

Maybe you needed to go back to your place soon. The longer you'd stay here the more complicated things would become between you and him.

"Mmm well that's good because honestly it's kind of weird.. I mean Aemond is Daemon's nephew and you're like his niece so that would make you both like siblings " she giggled and you just wanted to smash your head against the table. To get away from Cassandra, daemon finished his dinner quickly and headed straight for his room..

"Babe let's have a girls night, i pinged the girls to come here" Cassandra jumped up and down as you both made your way upstairs to your room after seeing off Aemond, she was crying her eyes out yesterday so this sudden change in her demeanour was nice.

"Sure..I'll be right there ..I have to go see mum first" you told her so she went to your room and you went downstairs to your parents' bedroom first but they were not there so you headed towards your dad's office. Daemon was there as well ..they were deep in the discussion while your mum was on the couch reading her book.

Daemon looked at you for a second before he looked away almost immediately..

Your mother just wanted to talk about your day to day life so after chatting with her you mumbled a good night to everyone before you went back to your room.

Girls were already drinking and playing spin the bottle when you joined them.

You felt restless, your mind wasn't at peace, you had made it clear to Aemond that you weren't looking for a relationship or dating at the moment and he was more than decent about it. He was alright being just your friend, however that wasn't the only reason why you didn't want to date him. There was one other reason, a very tall, sexy and scrumptious reason.

"Yay ..y/n's turn" Donna yelped in excitement, making you snap out of your Daemon dreaming.

"Truth or dare?" Cassandra asked you knowing really well that you'd never pick anything but the truth.

"Truth of course"

"So predictable" other girls groaned in unison and it made you smile. Was lusting after your sworn uncle predictable?

"I have a question..why does daemon call you pixie..you never told me the story? He even got your number saved with that name..just curious babe"

Cassandra questioned you and as you recalled the memory it brought a smile on your face.

"Ummm well..when I was twelve I had just returned from the boarding school after years and gotten this very bad haircut due to peer pressure..you can guess which one. I was basically inconsolable because I missed my hair and the cut didn't really suit me" you chuckled before you continued "It didn't help that dad basically made fun of me and I saw mum laughing too but then they took me to go see uncle Daemon. I had never met him before, only saw him in pictures and stuff, but as we reached his home he noticed my sniffles and my tear soaked puffy face. He then bent down to my level and cupped my cheeks to tell me that i was his darling little pixie now and would remain one forever"

He had turned one of the worst days of your life into a sweet memory that you still cherished to this day.

As you finished your story there was a pin drop silence in the room for a good few seconds before they all cooed like birds together. The memory made you feel even more conflicted now, he was your uncle and he saw you as his niece, if there was that five percent chance that he felt attracted to you as well then this must have been ten times worse for him.

"That's so adorbs ..though I gotta say he's so handsome..bumped into him downstairs" Rochelle said to you but it was Cassandra who gave her the deathly glares,

"Eyes off him alright.. it's still complicated between us"

No it wasn't complicated, he was done with her but whatever made her sleep well at night you thought.

When the bottle spinned towards Cassandra, as a dare Donna asked him to go kiss Daemon.

"I don't think that's a good idea guys" you immediately interjected but you watched Cassandra upping from her place despite your resistance and she winked before she made her way out of the room.

Daemon was about to get in bed when he heard the knock on his door, at first he thought it must have been you but he saw Cassandra just in her nightwear, standing on his door with one of her hands resting on the doorframe and other one on her waist,

"What do you want, Cassandra?" he asked her in a no-nonsense tone, his voice didn't carry any emotions for the woman standing in front of him because he didn't have any.

"I just wanted to see how you were doing and wanted to apologise about my behaviour yesterday" she mumbled sweetly so he sighed, she was a vacational rebound for him and he didn't want to hurt her at all but she was just too similar to Stella and that was what had attracted him to her at first and then put him off later,

"Alright i appreciate that" he mumbled softly and he was about to close the door when she leaped towards him and wrapped her arms around his neck, before he knew she was kissing him in the ways that would turn on any warm blooded man, she wasn't capable of warming his heart but his cock was a different story.

It all happened so fast after that, he fucked her quickly and right against the door, unbeknownst to him, you had come to check up on him and perhaps save him from the situation if Cassandra would blow up again but the moment you heard the sound of her moans and groans, instead of going to your room where your friends were, you ran towards the guest room and then you cried your heart out.

For once you allowed yourself to feel hurt and jealous, hurt that he slept with her again even after he knew she was being unhinged about it, and jealous because it wasn't you he was fucking against the door.

Next morning Daemon woke up with regret, not only had he encouraged Cassandra by giving into her advances but he had a feeling he had disappointed you in plenty of ways and his suspicions were confirmed when you didn't even look at him even once when he met you during breakfast.

"That old man's dick is the best dick. Period" Cassandra mumbled excitedly so you gave her a fake smile in response,

"He's not that old you know"

"Well I'm not saying it as an insult..lord I think I'm falling for his sculpted ass"

Your smile faded as she said that, this thing was about to get messier because he couldn't keep it in his pants, all men were just cunt hungry whores. Your mum was so lucky she found someone like your dad.

It was Saturday and you didn't even have the luxury of getting engrossed in work today so you spent your day trying to avoid Daemon as much as you could. It wasn't fair to him you knew that, it shouldn't have mattered to you who he fucked or how many times but it did.

In the evening while you were napping clutching onto the plushie he had given you there was a knock on the door.

You were just hoping it wasn't Cassandra and luckily it wasn't..it was Daemon instead, he had a black silk shirt on that was loosely tucked in his fitted pants, your dad was taking him out to meet some of his business partners.

"Uncle.. What can I do for you?" You asked him so he smiled and walked closer to you until he was merely inches away from you, his cologne intoxicated you as he stood so close to you. You just wanted to kiss him.

"I know you're upset"

"Why would I be upset?" You mumbled, making him give you that infuriating smile.

"You shouldn't be..but you are..y/n..we are both adults here, yes? You're dating my nephew..i sleep with your best friend, that shouldn't cause any problems between us, I don't want that"

Now you wanted to punch him in the face and then kiss him.

"You're right.. the thing is your nephew won't come crying to you if we break up but my best friend does and then it becomes my problem yes, uncle?" You told him as you raised your voice a little so he tilted his head down and glared at you. You weren't intimidated by him. Not at all. Or Maybe you were, just a little.

"Then maybe you should choose your friends wisely"

Your eyes teared up as he said that so you looked down and he immediately wanted to take his words back "I came here to apologise darling..i didn't come here to upset you further"

"Then why are you doing that!?" Your voice choked as tears began to build up so he cupped your cheeks and kissed your forehead, no tears came out but you still felt the pads of his thumbs caressing your cheeks tenderly.

"Ask me to not sleep with her again, and I'd never touch her, if this thing bothers you so deeply then I'd never ever look at her again"

He whispered softly so you looked up at him, this was your chance to tell him that you didn't want him to sleep with her, in fact you didn't want him to sleep with anyone. But as you opened your mouth the truth just refused to come out.

"You can do whatever you want..uncle..it's not my place to ask you for such a thing. I'm just acting out because I feel overwhelmed by my privileged people problems"

He chuckled as you said that.

"At Least you're aware of that"

His fingers ruffled your hair before he kissed the top of your head and stepped away from you.

"Have fun" you told him so he nodded, he wished you had asked him to not touch Cassandra again and he'd have obliged, he cared about you and he didn't want you to feel upset by his actions or feel hurt in any ways. And there was a part of him that just wanted you to accept that you felt something more towards him, something more than just feelings you'd have for an uncle.

"Mister Daemon'" He turned around as you called for him, this was the first time you had taken his name since he had returned.

"I'm not dating or planning to date Aemond..i wouldn't want to do anything that would make you leave again for whatever reasons..i hope you feel the same way.. about staying here ..in London i mean"

You didn't ask him directly but you told him what he wanted to hear from you. You weren't going to date his nephew for his sake..So he had to cut Cassandra off completely.

He was ready for that, but then what? What would happen between you two then?

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀🙃🙃

Taglist

@serving-targaryen-realness @annoyingsweetsstranger @anukulee @mcufan72 @insertsomethingsillyhereple-blog @silentf @ajthefujoshi @stupidthoughtsinwriting @ammo23 @shuichiakainx

[daemonwhitedove]

𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Reader

The death of Daemon Targaryen never had hurt you more than it should.

Inspired by Ophelia from Hamlet. The end quote is from Song of Achilles.

fanfiction | House of the Dragon

"Daemon, where are you going?" You inquire as you watches him readying to soar on dragonback with Dark Sister. Your gaze lifted to meet his, worry etched upon your visage as you observed your beloved. The war still raged, his life at stake.

Daemon turned to face you, unable to utter the truth, he imparted to you a falsehood. "Fret not for me, my love," he reassured, yet noting that your furrowed brow betrayed your unease.

He descended from his dragon, alighting before you on the earth. He clasped your hands firmly in his, bestowing a tender kiss upon them.

Your eyes locked with his. "Where are you going?" You softly inquire once more, voice quivering akin to your heart that throbbed and ached with dread. "You cannot go." It was your intuition that whispered so.

Nevertheless, Daemon sought to reassure you. "I shall return." The prince enfolded you in a kiss, pressing his lips fervently against yours, yearning to cherish the moment with you one last time.

As the kiss parted, he stroked your cheeks, brushing away the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes. "Keep this ring," he murmured, placing the silver ring in your palm.

A look of confusion crossed your visage as you gazed at him.

"Know that you are half of my soul," he whispered to you, and you were a fool to let him depart from your side.

You observed as he ascended Caraxes. The sense of foreboding only intensified as he and Caraxes soared into the heavens, perhaps never to return to you.

When he leapt towards Aemond with Dark Sister, you pondered what thoughts consumed him, his allegiance to Rhaenyra or his love for you?

As his blade pierced through the boy like butter, its edge piercing his remaining eye, was he reminiscing about you?

Did remorse grip him for leaving you bereft and alone?

Every morning you awoke to an empty bed, solitude enveloping you. The news of his demise shook you to the core, unable to contain your tumult of emotions, you wept bitterly.

Days passed, the war for the throne persisted. And you battled against the war of grief and madness threatening to engulf you completely. His remnants provided solace, soothing your tears and calming the sobs that escaped.

Rhaenyra and the others watches as you gradually descended into madness.

You sank to the ground, faltering with each step, observing as the water tenderly kissed the earth, forming a gentle ripple. The God's Eye was where your beloved had met his end with the young prince Aemond.

You prayed for Aemond, envisioning the suffering he must have endured.

Tears streamed down your face as you knelt by the water's edge, feeling the anguish in your heart. How could he forsake you so? He vowed to stay by your side, to live, to love you eternally.

You clutched the ring he had bestowed upon you not long ago.

"I shall return," he pledged as he placed the ring in your hand. The silver caressed your skin. Then he bestowed upon you a kiss, one of fervor and hunger. You could faintly feel his lips against yours, so sweet and intoxicating. He departed with his sword and his dragon as you watched from below, witnessing him slowly recede from your life.

Now you wished you had halted him.

Regardless of the throne's fate, regardless of victory or defeat, you stood resolute. The water beckoned to you, like a siren luring sailors. You dipped your feet into the water, smiling as though sensing his touch against your skin.

Similar to Queen Helaena and Daemon, you submerged into the water. Even as it embraced you tighter and deeper, pulling you further down, you only closed your eyes, gazing at the darkening and blurring sky. You tightened your grip on the ring in your hand. Not it, you could not lose it, not even in death.

Death welcomed you like an old friend, with open arms. You accepted your destiny.

In the darkness, two shadows, reaching through the hopeless, heavy dusk. Their hands meet, and light spills in a flood like a hundred golden urns pouring out of the sun.

[queers-gambit]

The Battle Above the God’s Eye

part one: Sands of Time

prompt: decades after the Stepstones, it's his turn to be rescued.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 6.3k+

note: i'm not the happiest with this piece, so i'll most definitely (probably) write an alternative when the time comes and the show does the Battle. y'all know me by now, you know i love me a good ol' reader-insert and i didn't want to wait years to publish some kind of sequel so here we are.

warnings: reader isn't explicitly a Targaryen but we had to make this work and i'm burnt the fuck out. so fuck it, dragon rider reader. cursing, books spoilers, violence, imagination required, maybe Red Priestess reader, mention of more Little Birds (let author live), toxic family (duh), heavily encouraged imagination, depictions of death, angst, some hurt and comfort i think ? missing warnings 'cause wonky brain goin' wonky.

"There's rumor, Mistress, of a dragon the color of night," the hooded figure informed. "It nests in the Ruins of Ancient Valyria, seen by farmers and countryfolk; they say his wings beat like thunder. It's a colossal shadow they fear to engage, but after hearing your ransom, they reported it."

You hummed as you took a sip of scalding tea, finding comfort in the heat, musing, "I've been to the Ruins myself on two seperate excursions, I promise you, friend, there is no dragon that nests there."

"It's come from the East, a new beast in the sky."

"I require proof if I am to pay the ransom."

The man with a hood over his head reached for his rucksack and rummaged, a moment later, placing two items on the polished mahogany table between you both. One was unmistakably a dragon's tooth, and when you examined it, there was still clotted blood on the root - assuring it was a fresh pull. The second was a large black scale that weighed at least a dagger's worth.

You smirked, "This is promising. Where in the Ruins has it been seen? Who procured these artifacts?"

You discussed specifics with the man for an hour, offering him a hefty finder's fee after getting the name of the village the man had gathered his own information from. It was a messy journey from there; leaving the home you had made in the decades since the Stepstones to head for what was probably another dead end in Ancient Valyria. You were something akin to a magistrate, the people saw you as a figurehead, a leader; their person of authority who they were all too happy to follow.

Your village flourished, growing in size, number, popularity, and strength by the passing day. The people seemed happy, wealth flowing from exports and trade, and apparently, a few cartographers have begun the process of updating a few maps to add your village's name to history.

Much had changed in your time away from your Rogue Dragon Prince, but you knew that was all coming to an end soon. Your Lord of Light had shown you much in your flames, one of which was a repeating image of you, mounted atop a dragon all your own, soaring over the Narrow Sea with distinct purpose. You weren't a Targaryen, but your religious devotion seemingly gave you the ability to walk amongst beasts and their flames.

Exploring Ancient Valyria took over a year on foot.

You had plenty of encounters with the Stone Men, but all met their merciful demise - those left after that steered clear of you and your Valyrian Steel sword. Around the ruins of the ancient volcano that hadn't erupted since The Doom, you found a graveyard of goat, sheep, and cattle bones. There were bigger skeletons of aquatic creatures, something you found incredibly fascinating - what fully grown dragon went deep diving?

Soon, you found scat. For those who don't spend time in the wilderness or who are simply unfamiliar with the term, "scat" refers to waste produced by wild animals. Yeah, you're reading correctly, after you found the plethora of skeletons, you found dragon shit.

So, you knew you were closer than before. But the fucker still alluded you to the point you felt insane circling the Ruins.

You located about three different potential caverns, investigating them all with caution, but finding them all empty. Feeling exhausted from the months of searching, you claimed one of the caves as your own; hunting for a meal after gathering adequate fire wood. You listened to the untamed wilds of Valyria as you ate whatever you roasted, trying to distinguish familiar sounds of an approaching dragon.

Or perhaps even a distant one!

You'd take any sign!

It'd been weeks since you found the dragon droppings, no other signs appearing. You would search new areas for days, then return to your cave for rest; feeling disconnected from reality the longer you lingered in the ruined empire. You wondering what your village was doing, you were curious if the young woman, Ferona, had a baby boy or girl, if they had erected the new buildings you left blueprints for in an effort to create opportunist housing and houses of worship - as your people had requested.

How did the krill and shrimp season fair? What weddings happened this past spring? How was the irrigation system holding up?

Weeks drug by slowly. Weeks turned to longer months. Two years, you spent in that Gods forsaken ruin of a city - but couldn't find it in you to abandon your search.

Your Lord of Light had yet to send word, yet set your heart ablaze every time you "decided" to go home. You stared into the flames every night, desperate for any indication you were on the right path, but nothing was seen - nothing was said - nothing was shown to you. Until one night, during a torrential downpour and thunderous storm, you were shivering, drenched to your core, fighting the wind to let you keep your flames alive.

And there, in the dying, flickering warmth, you saw it. With wide, unblinking eyes, you stared into the flames harder; unsure how long you remained in the tranquil state before a particularly strong gust of wind nearly pushed you face-first into the embers. You gasped, looking around as the smoke nearly choked you as it filled the cave; stumbling out into the rain as you coughed and patted your chest. Stumbling slightly from malnourishment and delirium, you leaned on the outer shell of your "home", panting with relief before there came a screech so fearsome, you were then cowering into the wall with fear.

You dropped to your knees, huddled into the rock formation; the ground trembling as something enormous touched down. You gasped when through the haze of sideways rain, two nostrils flared and heaved thick plumes of smoke; reddened from the ignited flames deep within an invisible chest. You flattened against the wall, four taloned paws striking the ground and causing it to crack, quake, and tremble. With the fleeting clouds, you used the moon's light to distinguish the beast that loomed closer to you; over you; and then, in your face.

A long, blackened snout nearly pressed into your chest; fabric of your tunic caught in the razor sharp teeth. You had faced death, you had faced beasts, you had faced hacking axes and swinging swords. You had faced the wrath of the Queen Alysanne's court, the rumors of the common folk, and judgment from both man and God. But nothing was like this moment: a wild dragon staring you down, sniffing your chest and stomach, debating if it should just open it's mouth and eat you whole yet or not.

Thankfully, it chose an alternative route.

You're not fully sure how it happened, but you dedicated two years to finding this terrible beasty, and yet, it only took about 6 weeks to bond with the (obviously) young thing. Time with your Dragon Prince proved most useful, creating a bond so secure, you were beginning to wonder if someone deep in your bloodline had mated with a Targaryen. It was natural, the way you both became accustomed to one another; living together on a carbon-dated land long doomed.

The lessons from Daemon came flying back to you. You practiced your High Valyrian, laughing when you obviously got a word or two wrong because the dragon would snort at you. In the light, she was still the color of the night, but her scales were dusted the same gold as her eyes. She was impressive, she was huge in size but nowhere near Vhagar. In fact, you'd wager she had outgrew Caraxes - the only dragon you had true experience with.

Speaking of Caraxes, you were on the shores of Old Valyria, debating how you were going to convince your new companion to join you back "home" in the village, when suddenly, your beast gave a defensive growl.

Looking to the skyline, you spotted the distant dragon and frowned. This dragon wasn't the color of flames like Caraxes was, no, instead, it was a murky blob in the sky with two wings. You offered calming words to your dragon in her native language, not sensing danger, but your beast was unhappy leaving you in the open. Her tail curled around you to corral you back into her body as the muddy brown dragon landed with a thunderous shake a respectable distance away.

Your name was begged by the rider descending from who you recognized as a wild dragon by the name of Sheepstealer.

"Nettles? That you, love?" You asked in skepticism, managing out of your dragon's grasp. "What're you doing here? You all right?"

"I needed to find you," she panted. "I-I need you help - it's all - it's all gone wrong! Please!"

"What's wrong? The fuck's happened?"

"Do you know nothing, Auntie!? Do you know nothing of the war!?"

Your eyes rolled, "Watch that tone with me, girl. The Dance of Dragons is of no concern of mine, it had barely started when I came here."

"Well - it's your concern now," she insisted. "You took me under your wing - you helped raise me in a village you built from the ground, despite not ever needing to - "

"Your mother was a dear friend of mine," you cut her off sharply. "She was kind to me when I came back to Essos, let me stay with her and your father. When I set out on my own, she was always a friendly face, and when my settlement was established..."

"She came to you for help after getting pregnant with me," Nettles nodded. "You've told me this before."

"Then you should know better by now that I owed your mother more than my life, so, raising you was the least I could've done. A life for a life."

"And as such, you let me go into the world with stories filling my head of a handsome Dragon Prince that saved you from the Crabfeeder!" You scoffed at her words, ready to argue, but she rushed, "He's in trouble, Auntie."

You paused, finding no lie in the girl's eye. Slowly, you asked, "Come again?"

"I found him, Mistress," she nodded. "After I got back to Westeros, I found your Prince Daemon - the ones from the stories! He's... He's brutish and harsh, they call him Rogue, but he was kind to me when I told him I knew you. When he heard your name, Lady, he just - he insisted on keeping me close. He protected me, even against his wife - Princess Rhaenyra."

Your head cocked, "Hmm... He usually did have a taste for younger flesh. I'm not surprised he took to you - "

"No, no, no, Mistress, not like that," she insisted desperately. "He was kind, educational - similar to a mentor."

"I see."

"He needs your help."

"Prince Daemon does not need rescuing, he is no damsel."

"He searches for Prince Aemond," she informed, making you lift your chin slightly. Though lost in the wild of Valyria the past two years, you were still well versed in the affairs of King's Landing; staying updated, curtesy of your Lord, the Lord of Light: R'hllor. In your village, you were known to pay for any accurate information - eventually hiring your own spies to relay trustworthy information from around surrounding cities and villages. Nettles was one of your Little Birds.

You sighed, "And? What of it - Aemond killed Lucerys, did he not? Since he married his niece, her children are now his step-children, right? Daemon is within his rights to want some form of vengeance - it's war, Nettie, it's never fair to anybody.

"He will not survive this, you don't understand! It's horrible, Mistress, please, he-he-he's deranged. Mad with grief, lost to his wife's useless fucking war. It'll be the death of him, Auntie, please!" She paused, seeing you just stare back at her; so she begged again, "Please!"

You nodded, "What do you want me to do, Nettie? Hmm?"

"You've told me those stories! I remember them well! You always said he came back for you, saved you from The Crabfeeder," she reminded, making you stiffen. "Does he not deserve the same? Or at least a chance? Rhaenyra will not help, she'll kill him herself I fear, but you can - you can help!"

You nodded, "I will consult the flames - "

"I am telling you - "

"I have heard you, girl!" You snapped, glaring at your Little Bird. "But there are greater forces at work than what you know, I cannot just so willfully trust the word of a child before flying off across the Narrow Sea. Allow me my time with my Lord, I will have an answer for you." Turning from her, you gathered whatever materials you could; setting it up in a small teepee before stepping back.

In High Valyrian, you gave your command. From over your shoulder, your beasty opened her mouth and shot a single flame at the structure.

On your knees, you muttered repeatedly; chanting, summoning your Lord of Light to come to you now in a great hour of need. And He did. Through the flames, you saw what R'hllor wanted to show you: the two Princes engaged in a brutally epic fight that would claim them both in the end...

Unless you left right that moment, as your Lord commanded.

"Make yourself safe, Nettles, go back home," you told her in a rush, catching the pouch of Gold Dragons she tossed you when you sprung into action - and for the first time, mounted your dragon. Like your minds were connected, the Great Shadow took to the sky - leaving Nettles and Sheepstealer behind, and you'd never see either again.

You remained high in the sky, being a blob to the naked eye should any dare to stare at the sun.

You only paused to let the Great Shadow dive into the Narrow Sea for a meal; surfacing with creatures in her jaws as you swam an exhausting broad stroke. Was it terrifying to swim in the open water? Absolutely, but your dragon seemingly kept any threats at bay. When she was satisfied with her meal, the Great Shadow scooped you onto her back and relaunched into the air again to continue your flight for Westeros. You both dried in the air.

The trip was draining.

It was grueling on you both.

Yet when you saw the distant shore, you couldn't help the spike of relief in your heart and veins.

Once in Westeros, you were forced to ground yourselves in the open area of the Stormlands because you needed to know where to go since Nettles hadn't been sure where to send you specifically. Using the usual thunderstorm as cover, you had to separate from the Great Shadow; leaving her in the dark as you ventured to the closest village.

With the pouch of Gold Dragons Nettles gave you, you paid for information that you needed. You were told all the nitty gritty details about the Dance of the Dragons that you've missed, understanding what (Nettles and) the Lord of Light had been trying to tell you for years: the Black Queen would be Prince Daemon's death.

The time had come for you to return his favor from the Stepstones. If this worked the way you wanted it to, you wouldn't be his first, second, nor third wife, but his fourth and final. You knew what you had to do.

"What do you know of their whereabouts?" You asked the innkeeper who wiped down the bar you leaned on.

"The Princes?" She asked, tisking right after. "The One Eyed Prince has been burning the Riverlands for almost two weeks now. The Rogue Prince was in Maidenpool but he's called his nephew to meet him at, uh, oh... Oh, bullocks, what's that haunted castle? The one that was torched?"

"Harrenhal?"

She snapped her fingers at you, "That's the one!"

"Fuckin' Hell," you muttered, wiping your eyes. "What's your thinking, love? 'Bout this war?"

She scoffed, rolling her eyes, "Stupidest thing I've endured so far. How silly, the House of the Dragon does not know who rules it, or so says our liege lord. So we must all pay their price in Fire and Blood."

You nodded slowly, "Who do you think holds the better claim t'the Throne?"

"Depends on your views," she muttered, "but in truth, it doesn't matter to me - so long as this all comes to an end. But between us?" She leaned in, glancing around before muttering, "The Bitch Queen would burn us all. Can't say if King Aegon would be much better, but at least we'd know what we were dealing with."

"And if he was another Maegor?"

"Can't be worse than the Black Queen. Hear they call her Maegor with Tits."

You smirked, chuckling lightly, "Thank you, ma'am, for your words." You offered her a few Gold Dragons, repeating, "Harrenhal?"

"Harrenhal," she nodded, accepting the payment. "I do not know if the One Eyed Prince will answer the Rogue Prince's challenge, but that is where he lures Prince Aemond - Harrenhal. Now, how's about a nice bowl of stew? You look drenched, love, and a bit skinny - you been eatin'?"

"Your kindness is refreshing in this shit-for-a-kingdom."

You winked at her and tapped the bar in parting before turning for the door, and into the rain you ventured once more. You didn't notice the cold, your Lord kept you warm and moving; finding the Great Shadow, mounting, and shooting off into the unknown sky again.

It wasn't easy directing a dragon without a saddle nor any stabilizing reins, yet your beast was something of a decently smooth fly. You minimally directed her as you went, but in truth, her instincts directed you both more than anything. When the storm broke, you were soon flying over charred scores of land; homes smoldering and burning, the wind spreading the embers and never letting the fire fully die out.

"The fuck..." You muttered, sitting up straight as you flew through the carnage. "Seven Hells, he burnt it all, didn't he?" You whispered, needing to hold onto the spinal ridges of your dragon to keep balanced. "Gods be good," you gaped at the damage beneath you.

The sun moved into position, getting ready to set when you heard the horrible screams of feuding dragons. You couldn't see Harrenhal yet, but you heard the fight, and then, as the sun began to set, there came flashes of bright firelight that lit the sky to a new level.

It was nearly the shade of daylight with the way the flames danced against the setting sun. You were desperate to get closer, and after directing the Great Shadow over a set of charred rolling hills, you finally had Harrenhal in sight. "Go! Go, please! That's them - we need t'get there!" You begged through a small sob of panic, and if possible, your dragon flew all the faster.

You were so close, yet felt so far.

The air trembled when the pair of dragons, Vhagar and Caraxes, collided in the sky once more. They grappled and snarled and shrieked and blew flames and gnashed their teeth and slashed their talons. You paid no mind to the pregnant woman standing on the shoreline of the lake they fought over, and instead, focused on your task; feeling as if you were moving on pure instinct and adrenaline.

The Great Shadow dove low to the lake's surface as Caraxes and Vhagar came barreling to the ground. It all happened too fast. As the two dragons fell, you saw one man - in black armor - leap from his crimson beast with his Valyrian sword winking in the dying light. Just as his arm extended to pierce Dark Sister into Aemond's blind eye, the dragons were tussling enough to turn over and forced Daemon off their hide.

You gasped as you reacted - no fucking thought to your actions.

As the Great Shadow glided over the surface of the Gods Eye lake, you were leaping off her back to launch into the air; tackling the Rogue Prince hard enough to disrupt his impact on the water's surface. You hit the water all the same, but instead of it being like hitting fresh pavement, it was a softer landing due to the Great Shadow's expert and quick maneuvering.

Two dragons hit the water, three human bodies; sending a wave of water higher than the towers of Harrenhal's fortress. It was a shock to land in something so wet and cold, but your adrenaline was stronger than any feeling of freezing water. Your arms kept an iron-clad lock around Daemon's unconscious waist, surfacing as the lake rippled and churned from impact; turning a seeping red from the open wounds on the dragon sinking into the depths.

Prince Aemond never surfaced, and years from now, he'd be found still chained to Vhagar's saddle with Dark Sister still stabbed through his skull. His Red Witch standing on shore couldn't save him, it appearing that your Lord preferred the Rogue Prince to the One Eyed.

Keeping Daemon afloat was difficult, but to your shock, you were being gently propelled forward to the shore by a fatally injured Caraxes. You encouraged him best you could, trying not to choke on the water splashing around your frantic forms. When you were able, you started heaving and dragging Daemon up the lake's embankment; the crimson dragon crawling out of the lake behind you, slowly, heading towards Harrenhal. You wanted to offer the loyal beast aid or comfort, but you were much too preoccupied with his master that was dead weight in the water's surf.

You trembled as you swiftly hoisted his dragon winged helmet off to leave bobbing in the surf; unhooked his armor, shucking it off him and compressing his chest rapidly - just like a fisherman taught you to do.

"C'mon," you grunted. "C'mon, Daemon, breathe - fucking breathe, damnit! Please, come back to me - don't do this. I just found you again, c'mon, my Prince, breathe. Breathe, Daemon, don't give up - not now, not on us! Don't give up on us, c'mon, my Prince, breathe, w-we finally have our time." Sobs wracked your form. "Breathe, Daemon, please! Please! I'm back - I finally found you, please, my love, breathe!"

You shoved harder into his breast bone with increased ferocity until water came suddenly spewing from his lungs. You heard the Great Shadow land in the near distance, turning Daemon on his side to help him breathe better; choking the water out. You spoke in relief, "There, there you go, c'mon, love, breathe! Thank fucking Gods, you're all right, you're okay, get it out - you're okay, just breathe, my love."

Daemon choked your name in pure disbelief, holding one of your wrists in a vice grip that only briefly concerned you. He panted and relaxed into the embankment, loosening his grip as he turned over to look up at you in shock and wonder. "How is this possible?" He wheezed.

"It's a bit of a long story," you teased softly, caressing his cheek. "Bit of a boring tale, 'M afraid."

"How? How is - how can this be?"

"You needed me," you explained, "thought I'd return the favor since you saved me all those years ago, huh? You got me out of the sea, I got you out of the lake - we're even, yeah?"

He still panted, only staring at you as if he couldn't believe himself. "You've not aged a day," he whispered.

You smiled, petting his cheekbone with your thumb daintly. "You need rest, reprieve, aid," you whispered.

"No, no," he gulped, "not when I just got you back. T-Tell me 's done. Tell me we're done being apart."

"You have a wife still, Daemon. She won't let you go, she wouldn't let us be together."

"Tell me what your flames say."

"Now you trust my flames?"

"When they bring you back to me, yes - oh, fuck yes, I'll believe whatever those fucking flames say. Please, love, for us - consult your flames, tell me what they've said."

You frowned, petting a soaking wet lock of hair from his forehead. Quietly, you whispered, "My Lord showed me what was to pass if I did not come for you... This war, this Dance of Dragons, would claim your life, Daemon. Your wife, your niece... She'll be the end of you, my Prince. You will not survive if you go back to her. Neither of you will survive this... My Lord has shown me that Rhaenyra will meet her end in flames, but following her will cost you your life in water," you glanced at the lake. "Not a death befitting of a Targaryen Prince."

"And now?"

"Now, she will fight her own battles for the first time," you whispered, "and I will return home, and you will make a choice."

He smirked, "We've gone lifetimes apart, like you said before."

"We have."

"I would not go another day," he coughed, wincing in pain. "I do not think I can fight anymore anyways, love. Please... Please."

Daemon never begged. You swallowed harshly, asking him, "No? No more fighting?"

"No," he agreed. "'M so tired, my sweet. I-I can't do this forever," he half-slurred, making you perk up slightly in attention. "Retirement sounds all too appealing now. Rumor will spread that neither Aemond or I lived, it'll be the perfect escape."

You nodded in agreement, flinching when a new voice screeched, "YOU BITCH!"

The pregnant woman you saw on shore stormed towards you, making you chuckle dryly as you had already foreseen this Alys Rivers - pregnant concubine of the One Eyed Prince Aemond and fellow Follower of R'hllor. Alys was unique in the sense that her training was decent enough to ensnare Aemond (it seemed), but not so decent that the Lord yet favored her.

She wasn't more than ten feet from you when the Great Shadow opened her mouth and showered the Red Witch in holy flames; an end she surely did not see coming - not that R'hllor would've showed her. This all caught Daemon's attention, who flinched slightly when he had to turn and look; not expecting the flames nor the beast.

Then his eyes drifted over the land, breathing hitching, and he sat up with a painful groan. "Daemon," you worried, but instead of trying to get him down, you helped him up.

You knew what he saw.

When at Caraxes' side, you helped Daemon lower to his knees at his dragon's head. He whimpered and moaned, belly slashed open, wing torn apart; bleeding out into the cold soil he rested on. The Great Shadow moaned gently in sympathy, lowering herself around you three to let you grieve in peaceful, protective privacy and ease Caraxes to his next life.

The moon was fully in the sky when the crimson bloodwyrm took his final breath with the ebony giant's flames to warm you all. You weren't sure what could be done, but Daemon was pressing a tender kiss to his dragon's head before turning to face you - a lost, confused, vulnerable look coating his features. "Come on, love," you eased gently, helping him to his feet; knowing a few ribs were shattered and probably his clavicle, too.

"Where will we go now?"

"Well, I have somewhere safe for us t'live," you grunted in assurance, wobbling a little under his weight. "But we need rest for tonight. Any ideas?"

"I doubt anyone will venture to Harrenhal this night, should be safe..."

You agreed, and together, you and Daemon settled in the empty castle with the Great Shadow resting on the outskirts of the Keep. She was too big for the interior of the courtyard, so, she was left outside with Caraxes' corpse as you and Daemon settled in the room he had commandeered.

"How is this possible? How can you be here?" He asked, holding your hips as you worked between his spread legs. Daemon had minimal supplies at the ready; hopping up on a work bench to let you care for his injuries and wounds. He watched your every move with a softening look. "I thought I wouldn't ever see you again, that I'd be cursed to only remember you in my dreams. Rhaenyra said I say your name a lot at night, when I sleep."

"I'm really here, Daemon, ease yourself," you offered an assuring grin, tending to the head wounds he obtained from the fight.

"How?"

"Nettles."

"What?"

"Nettles," you repeated with a smirk. "She's one of my Little Birds, Daemon. It was not entirely coincidence she found you..."

"So she said," he frowned. "But how - "

"She told me you needed me," you smiled softly. "And when I consulted the flames, I was shown what could be. I made a decision, I just wanted you safe, no matter what that meant."

"I just want you. Fuck," he seethed, squeezing your hips, "'s been fucking decades since I've even touched you."

"You're delirious," you teased. "Sleep deprived, maybe concussed."

"Perhaps all at once, but I finally have all I've dreamt of. Please," he whispered, "do not deny us longer. I've endured lifetimes - "

"Daemon, being here and now, you know I can't walk away. But we've time t'talk it all out, I need you to let me help your wounds - so sit still."

He nodded, "One thing I do not understand, though - the dragon? How did you...?"

"Spent two years in Valyria, looking for her."

"Why were you there?"

"Searching for a dragon, of course," you smirked. "She's impressive, isn't she? And from her size, I wager she can easily support us both back across the Narrow Sea."

He grit his teeth when you cleaned his open cuts and wounds, wrapping whatever clean cloth you had around the larger wounds; easing him out of his tunic to have better access to the blackened ribs he sported. "Would you tell me?" Daemon whispered some time later.

"Of what?"

"Your life since the Stepstones?"

"Oh," you chuckled, "sweet love, you know it was dreadfully boring without you."

"Doesn't seem it, you being in Valyria two years? That's not heard of, what was it like? How'd you survive? Why go looking for a dragon?"

This lead to you both laying in bed, hands held together, resting, but not sleeping. You just spoke quietly, fingertips tracing idly over each other's faces; sharing in each others lives that the other missed, reminiscing together in fond memories.

When morning broke, you had to move swiftly. Caraxes was left where he laid and after a final parting to the loyal beast and commandeering his saddle, together, you and Daemon mounted the Great Shadow. She wasn't a fan of the restraints, but once you and Daemon were mounted, she did not fuss as it was evident you humans had an easier time with the leather contraption.

"I must confess," Daemon whispered in your ear, using you as an anchor and leaning into your back, "I fear I might feel something akin to guilt for fleeing home."

"That's natural," you assured, "you're leaving family behind, 's never easy."

"There was no winning this war," he admitted, sighing. "I lead so many to their death... Destroyed my family - "

"From what I have heard, this is not your doing," you argued sharply. "That night, when Aemond attacked Lucerys, what were you to do? Leave that kind of atrocity without consequence? No, that is not in the Targaryen's nature. You did not start this war, Daemon."

"But I knew..."

"You knew what?"

"I knew Jace, Luke, and Joffrey were Harwin Strong's, not Laenor Velaryon's. We thought if we married her sons to my daughters, nobody would care much else about lineage - but we were wrong."

"It's okay to be wrong," you promised, leaning your head back to let your forehead rest against his temple. "It's okay to make mistakes or have regret. Tell me, do you wish to return to your wife? I will take you now, no quest - "

"No. No, I do not wish to leave you. This is... This is Rhaenyra's war, I've done my part. I'm free and finally with whom I belong."

"Now it's time to heal," you told him.

"Time to rest," he agreed, squeezing your waist and placing a few kisses to your neck. "This is where I should've been all this time... After the Stepstones, I should've stayed with you, none of this would've come to pass. I regret leaving you everyday - "

"I told you, for us to get here, to this point, now, we had to separate. But look where we are," you smiled back at him, the Great Shadow soaring higher in the sky to keep Westeros at a distance, "we will not be apart again. 'S you and me, love... Until our end, which we will greet together."

Daemon's lips found yours at long last, whispering, "Together," against them before sweeping his tongue against yours.

The port was lovely this time of day, sun high in the sky to give light to the fishermen and vendors hard at work. Sailors made port, calms were being shucked, different Aristocats trying to barter and trade on their journeys abroad. You smiled at the people you passed, grateful to be home after a prolonged absence; arm looped tight with Daemon's as you both strolled the pier.

"It's hard to imagine you've done all this in a lifetime or less," he mused, a hand folded over yours, dressed in the best clothes you could find. "It's s marvel, my sweet," his compliment was sincere.

"Thank you," you whispered, hugging his arm as your skirts swished around your ankles, just tickling your bare feet. "This season's expected to be bountiful," you told him, pointing to the various teams bringing crustaceans, fish, and other sea life in different crates and traps. "I expect there won't be much of an off-season."

He glanced around, "And you don't collect taxes?"

"Why would I?" You scoffed. "We're more dynamic than that. Everyone works for their place, if you wanted to think of it that way. They are not expected to contribute, but the village seems happier that way. Being close knit, helping one another, sharing wealth. No one person has complained, so, I figure it's working so far. Even if it didn't work, I still wouldn't charge them taxes - it'd be like charging them to live. Always seemed silly t'me."

"Morning, Mistress!"

"Morning, Don," you beamed, leading Daemon towards the dock. "How are you, kind sir? Looks as if you've been working all day already."

"Aye, up before the sun," he nodded, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. "Wanted t'thank yah, actually."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, yeah, with that dragon? We're hauling in more ships," he chuckled, and just overhead, the Great Shadow glided over them all to head out to sea to fetch another round of ships. "Gets us out there quick, brings us back when done, 's like a wee bit of an assembly line, ain't it?"

You chuckled, "Sounds like it, friend. Uh, Don, have I introduced you to my husband?"

"Husband?" Don grinned, cocking his head, "No, Mistress, I wasn't aware you even had a suitor. Mariam don't tell me much gossip these days," he snickered, referring to his wife. "It's nice t'meet you," he told Daemon, "name's Don, just Don - no, it ain't short for nothin'."

Daemon smirked some, shaking the man's fishy hand boldly, "A pleasure, Don, Just Don."

"Oh, this one's got a bit uh humor, don't he?" Don laughed lightly. "What's your name, lad?"

"Daemon?" A voice answered for you all, and just above you, a little further on the pier, stood an aged Laenor Velaryon.

"Excuse us, Don," you spoke swiftly, confusion marring your features. He understood or sensed the slight tension, backing off to let you approach the "dead" knight.

"Oh, my - Y/N," Laenor breathed, another aged man at his side with what you assume to be his children. No question could be asked yet as your old friend launched himself into your arms, laughing merrily, giving you a tight squeeze with his still-toned arms. "Oh, the Gods are good for this!" He laughed, rocking you slightly, "Oh, how the Seven bless us."

"You're so dramatic," you laughed back, patting him happily until he pulled back. "But I must confess, I am so fucking confused - what is this? How are you here? I thought you died, Laenor, that's what ever spy reported."

"They should've," he nodded, glancing at Daemon, "but perhaps, the explanation will be better received after some wine?" He caressed your cheek in affection before looking at your husband, nodding, "It's good to see you again, my Prince. Or is it King Consort?"

"Neither, just Daemon," he corrected, your heart soaring a little at the idea that he would abandon his title so easily. Yet you knew, there was nothing to go back to for him.

"Well, how about I introduce my family?"

"Family?" You grinned, seeing him present the others.

"My husband," he gestured, giving his name. "And our kids," he introduced the other three.

"How?" You asked simply.

"We found a Red Priest who was willing to officiate the ceremony," Laenor explained, "and the kids were sired by different mothers, too."

"Whores," the husband smiled.

"Huh," you nodded in impression. "Well, perhaps wine is best to hear that tale, as well?"

"Perhaps," Laenor grinned. "Uh, but first, we should find accommodations - "

"Oh, come off it, you're staying with us," you waved. "Your belongings?"

"This is it," he half-shrugged, you eyeing the few rucksacks around their feet, neck, shoulders... "We heard of the prosperity here, thought it was worth the move."

"How right you are," Daemon answered. "Come, old friend." He picked up a few sacks for the kids and you looped your arm with Laenor's to lead the way. How good it was to have your friend back, your husband at your side, and a functioning, happy village with your placement amongst them most important... Everything you could've wished for, it seemed, came true.

And in your womb, a Dragon Seed was planted; soon to make its announcement known. Truly, a happier ending than you thought deserved - but R'hollr worked mysteriously, blessing those deemed worthy to spread his flames.

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

note: i'm not the happiest with this piece, so i'll most definitely (probably) write an alternative when the time comes and the show does the Battle. y'all know me by now, you know i love me a good ol' reader-insert and i didn't want to wait years to publish some kind of sequel so here we are.

[leviathanspain]

you tore my world in two

daemon targaryen x targaryen!reader

synopsis: giving birth to a targaryen child was never easy

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

you were writhing. your hands clutched at the bed sheets before you as another scream rippled from your throat. you didn’t feel anything that wasn’t the feeling of your body being torn apart.

“the child-“ your midwife panted as you felt her hand, “finally!” she shrieked, and the need to push arrived again, and you screamed, heavily as you cried.

daemon was watching you from the doorframe, he was frozen with shock as he watched you, his heart pounded in his chest as he watched you cry.

the baby made no noise as you finally birthed it. a slap on the back of the baby’s chest was heard but no cry. your face was wet with tears, your brow drenched with sweat. your blood was falling onto the floor in puddles, red, sorrowful puddles.

daemon couldn’t take his mind off what he had done to you, what this child brought onto you. now the child couldn’t even give his own mother the decency of crying, a reward for the price you had paid.

you beckoned daemon to look at the child, your eye lids were slowly wavering, you started to feel the heaviness of your body, and you felt yourself slip off the edge of the bed.

daemon ran towards you, his arms catching you before you hit the stone cold floor. you were light as a feather, blood still pooled from between your legs and your skin was colorless, even your white hair was graying. he was watching you die, he was holding you as you were dying.

you awoke slowly. your eyes were crusted shut, your body felt tight and you felt this emptiness within you. you could barely see the light in the dark room, a small candle lit beside you. a lady walked up to you, and you recognized her suddenly, “my lady.” she greeted you, a smile of joy mixed with relief evident on her face as she saw you. you managed a smile, and you drowned out her voice as she called for the others, and you tried to recollect your memory.

“my lady.” a voice called to you from the door and you turned, watching a small bundle move in the hands of the nurse. your heart jumped with joy as you saw your child, “a boy.” she told you, and you couldn’t help the tears in your eyes as you picked the child into your arms.

“where is she?!” you heard shouts coming from down the corridor and you immediately recognized them.

“daemon?” you called you, and the nurses jumped back slightly as he burst into the room, his face was covered with dirt, and he smelled of dragon.

“daemon.” you cried, happy to see your husband, and immediately he embraced you, gently as you whimpered slightly.

“i was so afraid..” he paused, and swallowed thickly, “you tore my world apart when we first met, and you tore it completely to shreds last night.” he kissed your forehead and noticed the little baby in your arms, “i didn’t know what to do..” his voice trailed off as he looked at you, and the relief in his face was truly heartening.

“i love you so much, my love.” he kissed your forehead, again, repeatedly to show his love, “more than you’ll ever believe.”

the baby cried before you could respond, and you cooed, happy to hear the noise you so desperately fought for.

[daemontargaryenwhore]

So anyway there was this horse

when he was told Rhaenyra was at a brothel and he went "what of it??" 💀

And when he had the maester bring her the moon tea 😭😭😭 like here’s your plan B sweetie hope you had fun

[elijahslittleprincess]

[sugarprincessbitch]

Targaryen men x Targ! Wife Reader

(Reader suffers the same death as Laena)

Warning ⚠️ (Angst).

Maegor Targaryen x reader, Aegon Targaryen x reader, Aegon II Targaryen x reader, and Aemond Targaryen x reader

Aegon II

The king's council was pressuring you and Aegon to give the throne a heir, despite being pregnant three times none of each were a boy, instead you had three beautiful daughters.

Now you were in your fourth pregnancy. Wanting to be near your mother, princess Rhaenyra, in your labor, your little family decided to move to Dragon stone.

The labor started early than expected, but that wasn't saw as a problem because the pregnancy developed normally.

Your mother and the maester were inside the room with you, meanwhile Aegon was walking impatiently outside your birthing chambers with the fear of something going wrong. Daemon and the boys tried to calm him down, reassuring him that you were at the hands of the best maester and midwife's they could found and you where going to be fine.

Hours passed and you were still fighting in that room to bring your child to the world, wrenching screams could be heard in all Dragon stone, but none of a child, only yours.

Suddenly the door open, and the pale face of the master came into view, he told Aegon that the baby was stuck inside of you and the only way of get it out was to cut you open.

Angered by the maester words he was ready to strangle him right there, but your anguished callings stop him before doing something.

You were bedridden, pale as a ghost and sweating a lot, the baby was slowly killing you each passing hour.

Rhaenyra was at one side of the bed, trying to calm you down by whispering sweet things in your ear, but by the look of her face she was also deeply worried by your state.

when he was finally at your side you told him to help you get up, and ignoring the pain you stubbornly start to walk outside the room despite the pleadings of the others.

Aegon start to follow you, calling and pleading that you will be fine and there will be another way. You still didn't want to listen to him and continue walking.

He found himself outside, inside the dragon pits he found you. You were in front of your dragon saying something that he couldn't comprehend, his panic calls were covered by a roar and you were engulf by flames.

Aegon started to scream horrified by the view as his legs gave out and he stumbles against the hard floor. He felt his heart tear apart. A river of tears run along his face at the sight of your body, your burnt body.

After that horrible night Aegon was not the same, he was a shell of the man he was with you. For his family pity, he returned to his old habits, ignoring all his responsabilities in court and as a father, neglecting your daughters.

His mother and grandfather force him into a new marriage, saying that he still needed a heir.

Poor the unlucky woman that married Aegon, because the shadow of your memory will be always there to haunt her.

Maegor I

You were the only wife that had given him children and pure blooded too, due to being his half sister. Because of that you were the most dear and important wife of Maegor, treating you with a fondness that was rare of him.

The maester had warn him to not try for more children, your health was fragile since having many children without repose, another pregnancy could cost you not only your life but also the one of the baby.

Maegor didn't listen to it and stated that his wife should do their duty to him as a woman without caring if she wanted or not. That was the end of the discussion.

The new pregnancy developed progressively worse as months passed, debilitating the mother day after day.

Visenya was the only one that had permission to attend the pregnancies of the queen, due to the fact that Maegor wasn't fond of maesters, believing them to be useless for caring correctly of her sister-wife.

In the middle of the night you went in labor, Visenya and the midwife's were the only ones present with you. Maegor was on one of his campaigns battling the faith, so he couldn't be present.

It passed a long time and the baby didn't wanna come out, there was blood everywhere and the women in the room shared with each other worried faces.

Due to the pain pleadings of the queen, Visenya decided to call a maester. The maester tried without effectiveness, stating that the only way the baby would come out is by cutting you open.

Knowing the end was near, you pleaded to Visenya that if you were going to die you wanted to do it at the hands of your dragon, not of the maester "From fire I was born, from fire I will die" you said.

When Maegor landed in kings landing the news of the torturous labor and death of his wife reach his ears.

He immediately saw red, mad with fury he grab his sword and went to search for the one or ones guilty of your death.

That day it was told that the fury of the dragon rain upon the people of kings landing, no one was saved from Maegor's want for blood.

He burned, tortured and killed everyone that was in charge of your well being. When no one was left to appease his Mad pain, innocents were also slay. But no killing or torture could fill the hole in his wrenching chest, the one you and your unborn child left behind.

Aegon I

They say that Aegon married his three sisters for different reasons. He married Visenya for duty, Rhaenys for love and you for devotion.

You were his twin, the half of his soul, the mother of his only daughter. His sweet Daenerys.

Your second pregnancy came as a glad surprise for the two of you and the kingdom, after the tragic death of your little sister at the hands of Dorne, in the castle there was only days for mourning or sadness. So the unexpected new was a ray of hope for everyone, specially Aegon who desperately needed a little hope to grab on to.

All different types of maesters were pestering you day and night all along the duration of the nine months, this was a direct order of their king and their queen, your older sister Visenya. The two of them worried about the fragile state you were in.

Because of you being a little pass your prime, the announce of you being pregnant was a miracle on itself, and the dangers of having a baby at your age was of their over protectivness.

You were now two days in labor, since your contractions starting in the early morning of the first day and continuing in the night of the second day, you haven't stop pushing.

Everyone was in distress and the tension was burdensome in the air, Aegon vigilant gaze and your sister angry commands were not helping at all.

That second night Visenya nor Aegon could be with you, an important meeting regarding the next attack to Dorne was held, and you found yourself all alone in a room full of strangers.

The pain was now unberable, each passing day with your baby stuck in you was agonizing, you knew death was in the horizon although Aegon didn't want to acknowledge it, extending your suffering.

In one of your moments of consciousness you got up of bed. Shoving the maester and servants aside, you got out of the room.

A terrified servant abruptly interrumpt the meeting and told them about your current disappearence. For a second Aegon was shock in place by the horrifying news, that hesitation was enough time for Visenya to start screaming commands to the guards to inmediatly find you.

They found you in the dragon pit, screaming to your dragon, pleading him for mercy. Aegon was the last one to get to there. Seeing you in just a dangerous situation send him on edge and without thinking it he tried to run to you, but the fire was quicker and reached you first.

A part of Aegon died that day in the fire with you, his hope was lost, everything was lost without you by his side. He attached himself to the only part of you that was left, your daughter.

Your loss was the final drop for the strain relationship between Visenya and Aegon to broke beyond repair. Dividing the family, creating resentment not only between the parents but also, between the children.

When Aegon's last days were near, he went in and out of feverish deviations, the only thing that calmed him was the milk of the poppy that the maesters gave him.

In his death bed his last words were pronounce again and again with a trembling and a voice full of anguish "My sweet y/n, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." Until he finally took his last breath the prayers didn't stop.

Aemond I

Your family, specially your mother, wasn't fond of your sudden marriage with Aemond, she had other plans for her younger's. Being Haelena and Aegon the ones married as the Targaryen tradition dictates, she didn't needed more than one. But love seal by fire couldn't be stop.

For the first time Aemond felt joy, the gods heard his and his wife prayers and gift them with a child, the one that were dessesperately hoping for.

The pregnancy went normally without much of a fuss, the two of you were expecting with excitement the day your baby will come into the world. Aemond didn't care if it were to be a girl or a boy, as the second son, he didn't have the burden to produce a male heir.

During the later stages of your pregnancy the tensions between the blacks and the greens grew increasingly dangerous. When the high septon crowned your brother as king everything explode. Due to this, Aemond had to fly away to Storm's end as a negotiator for the greens, leaving his much pregnant wife at home.

An urgent letter from her mother came in the second day he was staying there, telling him to come home as soon as possible, his wife started labor hours ago.

Only one thing retain him for some time before going back to his dear sister, the bastard that took his eye, Lucerys.

When he arrived at the pit in Kings landing the storm had long passed. Without changing his wet clothes he inmediatly went to the birthing chambers, in the rush he didn't notice the commotion of the servants and guards of the castle.

Entering he found the room empty, except from his mother who was in the floor, with her hands covering her face, crying unconsolable. Ameond silently reach her, and with a pang of fear in his chest ask "Mother, were is y/n... Were is she?".

Alicent gasp and cried more, he grew desperate and ask in a more forceful tone this time "Mother, stop crying and answer me, were is y/n?" Finally she answered him "I'm sorry Aemond, I'm so sorry I couldn't stop her... Oh god how horrible!" For a moment everything went silent, the pang in his chest grew and stab him with more force this time.

His mother rose her head and look at him with tears in her puff eyes "Th-the pregnancy went wrong, the baby, the baby wouldn't come out"

She stop and shed more tears "She killed herself Aemond, she command her dragon to kill her..." Stoping for a moment she screamed "OH GOD HOW HORRIBLE!"

Upon hearing this Aemond block himself out of the room, unfocusing his gaze he hug his mother that continue to cry in his shoulders. His face was still as a rock, solid, without a feeling. Only a treacherous tear falling slowly from his good eye, showing the emotion behind the empty gaze.