#daemon x martell!reader

[just-some-random-blogger]

Hey honey! Could I get an extremely wild NSFW with Daemon x Martell/dornish reader. Where she is extremely bold and has fame to rival his and at first she doesn't like him, but he is willing to do it She changes her mind about him (and he does) as they spend time together she ends up realizing he's not that bad, thus forming a solid friendship, but the sexual tension and mutual desire between them is extremely strong (almost palpable) then one night while they are spending quality +

Killing Me Softly

Daemon Targaryen x Martell!Reader

Summary: Daemon, as unopposed as he was to be forced into a marriage so that he would no longer disrupt the matters of the crown, he found himself wanting nothing else but to marry the Lady Martell

Word Count: 5k+

Warnings: physically abusive!daemon, fem!reader, reader injures daemon, they're both really toxic to each other, literally opens with smut [daemon takes liberties with intoxicated reader, manhandling, oral (m receiving), semi-public sex, vaginal penetration, name calling, pulling out, breeding kink], fuck buddies to/& enemies (to lovers ?), i describe reader's hair, i name reader's sister, idk asoiaf lore so I just made stuff up, typos, etc.

A/N: another day another 5K+ smut MINORS DNI. it's hard being a simp [sigh] i put the second part of your ask below the gif cos i wanna see matty's stupid face when i get notes lol, but dont be deceived by it his cutesy face, this fic aint cutesy at all RIP. ok so i did research about the martell fam and i found out they're referred to as prince/princess because of a Targaryen ancestor that comes along long after daemon's existence and i almost made her a princess BONK let's just pretend i know what im doing. i took liberties on your prompt btw anon, i found the idea of writing another enemies to lovers exhausting which was why it took a while for me to get back to you. i think it came out a lot darker and there's a lot of mind fuckery involved. i hope you still like it. Tagging: @pinksirensong @deniixlovezelda

Daemon grunts and grabs my brownish blonde hair, coiling the curls around his hand has he maneuvers my head back and forth.

"Just like that," he urges and I grip his thighs for dear life.

Daemon leans against the wall as his hips involuntarily thrust into me. It was nothing I couldn't handle, not when I was used to it, and his particularly selfish desires. However, even after all his brutalizations, my jaw still cannot keep up with him nor can my lungs.

I let out a muffled sound when he hits the back of my throat. I feel myself gag around him and tears water my eyes as it get harder to breathe. I try to pull away but he is too greedy with my mouth, and has me locked in his grip by my hair.

I pound on his thigh, and his eyes that he screwed shut finally open.

He pants as he pulls me off him. A string of saliva drips down from my lips and I look up at him in annoyance. My insult comes out strangled and hoarse, "selfish prick."

Daemon smirks as he watches me get to my feet. I wipe the wetness of my lips off. He grabs me, and pushes my chest up against the wall. His hands claw and bunch up my skirt as he breathes against my ear, "you act as though I do not reward you for your service."

His hands make their way to my dripping heat, and we both hiss when he begins his ministrations on me.

"Is it a reward if you're only paying me my dues for what you so desperately begged to get?" I mutter through strained breathing.

I lean against him and reach for his neck behind me.

He pushes me off, dragging me to the side up until I was leaning against the open window. He grabs my hair again, my hands instinctively dart to it. I moan when he slowly enters me. I hear him pant as he begins to thrust. He pushes my skirt farther up as to get a better hold on my hip, "maybe you should ask your devotees what they think?"

"Daemon," I groan in gratification as he rams into me.

He hums. His chest rises and falls before he chuckles, "they're not gonna hear who's fucking you good when they're not if you don't pipe up."

I squeal when he releases my hair and places all his vigor into the flicking of his hips. I dig my fingers into the stone opening for dear life, just as he digs into my sides. The pain of his grip intensifies the pleasure rising in my core.

"Daemon," I grunt, "yes, yes, harder!"

Daemon is half-amused, half-breathless, "needy bitch."

He does not disappoint though. As much as he takes, he gives back, if only to prove a point of his manhood.

I let out a struggled and broken cry when he lifts my torso up closer to him and slams into my sweet spot. My knees can barely keep my standing as my feet lift and crash from the ground. My arms helping to push me up begin to shake when I feel my orgasm near.

"Fuck," I drag out breathily, "I'm so fucking close, Daemon."

He grunts and gracelessly shoves me back down. Had my arms not already been out, I would have slammed my head into the fucking rock. I whimper in pain, but have no time to tell him off as I am busy chasing my high.

"COME ON!" he growls.

Three thrusts in then I'm coming all over him. I let out the loudest and lewdest sound I could muster. It hikes up and down in volume because of his pounding.

In the middle of it all, he pulls out and leans against me. He is still heavily catching breath when I stir beneath him and turn over. Once I am sitting on the sill, Daemon pushes between my legs and rests against me. I tense at his affection and push him away, giving him a stern look, "did you fucking come on my dress again?"

Daemon's features harden upon hearing this.

"This would be the fourth dress you've ruined, you vile cretin."

"It's not like you make sport of reusing your garments anyway."

"Because you keep staining them!" I quip.

He lets out an annoyed breath as he moves off me, roughly fixing himself in his trousers.

I roll my eyes at him and flatten my bunched skirt. Once I was all sorted out, I call out to both sides of the hall, "if anyone's there, you can pass now."

Daemon eyes me darkly as he finishes tying his breeches.

Just then, one of the younger maids squeak and hurriedly makes her way down the hall with her head hung low.

I release a sigh as I get to my feet twisting back to see the damage he's done on my burnt sienna dress.

"It's not that bad."

I see the blot on the fabric and groan in annoyance. "Not that bad?!" I seethe, shoving him on his chest.

Daemon still manages to find it in him to chuckle.

"Now I have to have someone wipe that off."

"Or," he reaches out to me, "we can go have a hot ba-"

I swat him away.

Daemon's expression changes drastically, "bitch."

"Addict," I spit.

"Hussy," he grabs my jaw.

"Dick," I shove him off me with so much force he is actually surprised when he shoots back, nails grazing my face in the process. With that, I scream my servant's name as I storm down the hall.

Daemon watches as the sound of heels clicking fills his ears.

It was a relief that I found Audrey quickly, and that she managed to remove the traces of the prince on my dress as I removed traces of him on my skin.

Once I looked like the lady I was, face painted, shiny hair styled just the way I like it, and not utterly fucked and manhandled, I make my way down to the festivities in our dining hall.

My lips curve up when I feel the room shift its attention to me when I walk in. I bask in the attention, rolling my shoulders back as I caress the large diamond on my sternum, drawing even more attention to the plunging neckline of my dress.

The crowd parts for me as I make it across the room, heading for the seat at the head of the table that was prepared for me. I pay no one regard as they nod and greet me. Why would I?

Halfway through, I see him rip through the crowd toward me. Daemon gives me a boyish grin and extends his hand out to me. I release a breath at the look upon his face and take his hand.

"Beloved," he mutters, eyes fixed on me as he places a kiss on the back of my hand.

I forfeit a response to his performance, but cannot withhold my surprised chuckle when he spins me around and pulls my back flush against his chest.

"Your servant is truly a miracle worker," he mutters against my ear.

I scoff at his words, knowing he saw missing stain on my skirt.

The crowd intently watches our display and I let out a genuine laugh when I pull away from him, "and you a truly a menace, my prince."

The two of us then make our way to our seats at the table. The moment we do, music begins to play and people head off to the center of the room to dance.

Daemon sits to my left, leaning back with an indifference to it all. He is bored of it, and was only here because I told him to be. He reaches his hand to my skirt from under the table. I let him draw shapes on me with this fingers. I could not care less.

I watch the people make merry before me. I watch them step and twirl to the sound of the music. I smile although my chest constricts as I recall a time in my life when I was as carefree as the atmosphere.

I turn to Daemon, bored still. He was the personification of my cynicism, the marker of my truth: I existed only for duty.

We both turn to my right when my name is called out.

And here she was, our youngest, my pretty sister; a beacon of light that reminded me everything I was no longer. I smiled at her as she went my side. She leans down to kiss my cheek and I offer her the same sentiment as she greets us both.

"Sister," she smiles, "Prince Daemon."

"Lady Castella," Daemon offers a small smile. His fingers continue to absentmindedly draw on me.

"I want to introduce someone to you," she inhales deeply as she pulls a grin on her face.

Two men then walk over to the table, and I instantly find some recognition of the old man. The sight of him makes my face contort in contempt.

"Sister," Castella lets out a breath as she extends her hand out, "Lord Michael Yronwood and his son, Lord Perros."

"The Ladies Martell," the balding man wags his wrinkly jowls then turns to the man beside me, "Prince Daemon Targaryen."

I scoff at his greeting and straighten myself up.

My sister stiffens beside me as I watch the boy great all of us individually.

"At least you have proper manners," I say to Perros as he raises his head up after bowing.

Daemon holds back his laugh.

Before I could remark at the stink eye the elder Yronwood was giving me, my sister catches my attention with her words, "this is the man I have been telling you about."

I turn to her in disbelief, "the Yronwood boy?"

Castella licks her pink lips before nibbling on it nervously.

I idly turn back to the thing that won my sister's favor. I take in his thick, dark hair, wondering when he will begin to bald like his father. I take in the broadness of his shoulders, wondering when he shall need a shabby cane as well. I take in the eagerness and restlessness of his expression and measure it against the sardonic expression of the old man beside him.

"Is it true that you write my sister poems?"

Perros freezes. His father beside him eyes him hotly.

We all look onto the man caught off guard and my patience quickly runs dry over his silence. I allow him a few more seconds, but he does not pipe up to even stutter like the lost child he is.

"Clearly he is too stupid to even utter a word to me," I turn to my sister.

"I beg your pardon," the boy's father quips as he leans on his cane.

"No," I raise my brows at him, "I will not pardon you, Lord Yronwood." I turn to my sister, "what has-"

"It is clear you cannot breed the whore out of someone, even with Martell seed," the geezer scoffs, "I should have your tongue for your insolence."

I turn to him with furrowed brows. My sister's jaw hangs low. Daemon shoots out of his chair, causing it to fall back with a thud and make the entire room go silent.

That is what it takes for him to realize his mistake. The hot glare of the prince renders his ugly face uncomfortable. He grabs his son by the arm, "I knew this was a mistake."

I hear my sister whimper beside me as Perros struggles against his father. He manages to pull away without injuring his raggedy hand and snaps at him, "What you did was a mistake. I love her, father!"

"Her mother is a whore!"

The sound of my laughter draws everyone's attention to me. Their eyes are blown, shocked, disturbed, and it amuses me further, excites me that my breath leaves me even quickly.

When my sister places a hand on my shoulder, a knowing gesture to my knowing actions, I swat her away and calm myself.

Daemon watches me, watches how my face ticks.

"Yes, oh you caught us," I utter as my breath evens out, "my mother was born, raised, and worked in a brothel before her hypnotizing cunt ensnared my poor daddy, the Lord Martell."

I raise my voice when the gremlin thinks to interrupt me, "AND YOU THINK TO LEAVE..." I lean against the table, "leave out the best part!" I smile, "she was a bastard of the Lannisters."

I chuckle again, flipping my golden hair back, "not that there's any proof to that," I tilt my head offering a wicked smile, "and yet, here you are. Under the roof of the late whore's home, submitting to her whore spawn because your son fell for the whore's daughter,"

I stand to my feet, "the Lady Castella of house fucking Martell."

I hear the shuffling of the guards from the side, who had been on edge ever since the music. I hear one of them call to me. I knew it was Aleksander, and I knew he was ready to kill for me.

I smirk.

The crows stirs.

The Yronwoods begin to stiffen in panic.

"You are outranked, outnumbered, and fucking ugly," I break into a laugh. I gesture upwards, "I am only now recalling why I am so pissed by the sight of your monstrosity. Were you not the same Yronwood that tried to marry off the same pawn to me not long ago?"

I turn to his son, breaking yet again into another laugh.

Daemon shifts in his spot, smiling to himself as he watches me on his side.

"And this was after you made issue of the charity I give the peasants. A farce, you said, to give back to the less fortunate."

"Perros," my sister's calls. My eye twitches at it. It cuts off my anger briefly. I narrow my eyes at the said man. How good could his dick be?

Michael Yronwood although rendered speechless, arrogantly kept his head high. His son, Perros, could do nothing but hang his head low in shame as my sister looked out to him.

I heave and feel anger rise at the sound of my sister's hushed cries. How dare these fucking gremlins cause her this distress, at one of our house's feasts, an occasion she adores, no less.

My lips twitch, "you should be glad I care about the less fortunate, because you are so clearly desperate for all these things that you lack: prestige, wealth, and face that is not so hideous to look at-"

Daemon could not hold back his chuckle.

"and so I will not have you quartered and hung in the town square."

The Yronwoods turn to me in shock. My sister pleads my name out, and it further fuels my anger.

"Perros," I call loudly turning to the boy, "I present you now two choices: you either leave my sister alone and keep your lovelorn poetry to yourself, or," I turn his father, "you can marry her in return for your father's head."

"You DARE," he raises his cane, "threaten my son in front of me!"

I giggle, "it is not a threat," then lunge at him to grab his cane.

He is jarred by my actions and nearly topples back when he pulls away. It is a shame his son keeps him upright.

"My word," I examine his family crest on the cane, "is law," I throw his cane behind me.

"You deranged wench!"

"Call me what you like, filth," I grin, "I am the first born of house Martell, betrothed to house Targaryen. Do you think anyone would defy me?"

"The prince will never wed your defiled cunt!"

"Father, that's enough!" Perros begs.

"He has not married you still because-" the old fuck cuts himself off when Daemon climbs over the table, kicking all the food down, and grabs him in his fury.

"You should have kept your tongue while my bride allowed you to keep it. Now I demand it," Daemon seethes, gripping the large oaf by his collar, before extending a hand out to his side, "we are awaiting the return of her father and brothers before we wed, but you would not understand honor or familial duty even after I cut your tongue out."

"Daemon, please," my sister begs, leaning against the table.

"HAND ME A FUCKING BLADE!"

Castella turns to me, gripping my arm tightly.

I cannot bring myself to turn to her as I command, "release him."

"No," Daemon seethes.

"RELEASE HIM!"

Daemon grinds his teeth as he grips the man's collar with both hands again. After, he shoves him off with much force. Again, much to his luck, his son keeps him upright. Had that not been the case, he would have surely fallen and cracked his skull.

I eye Castella and nearly falter at the sight of her tears. I clench my jae, "I have given my word."

She calls my name out, "please, do not-"

With that, I storm out of the place.

Daemon was too caught up in his own anger to realize this. He gives the order to haul the Yronwoods' arses out of the place, and by the time he notices my absence, it was too late.

Much like our routine, Daemon spends the rest of the day that fades into the night, looking for me. He searches In our estate, the establishments nearby, the places I frequent, and the places he has never seen me enter before. He finds me in the very place that I owed my existence to, the brothel my mother worked at.

Daemon could not even let relief wash up on him as he watches me grind up down on the guard I was relieving my angers on.

He rubs my sides as I push my tongue into his mouth.

I scream when I am pulled off him from my hair.

I am thrown off to the side. There is a sound of brawling. I look up and see my snogging partner grip his side in pain as he is hauled out of the place.

I get to my feet in time to witness Daemon shove the guy out the door. I heave as I grab a cup of ale. As he comes up to me, I finish downing whatever remained of it

I gulp the last of it when Daemon grabs the cup and throws it to the side, hissing at the smell of alcohol on me, "are you out of your fucking mind?"

I get on my toes and lean up at him, "yes."

He recoils at my breath and grabs my wrists when I reach out to him. The next thing I know, I am thrown over his shoulder and being hauled out myself.

It's a miracle I do not slip off him, or that the alcohol I consumed did not slip out of me.

Somehow, I am in my chambers.

Like clockwork, I head to the stored wine in my room and gracelessly intake it. Daemon catches it out of my grip and leaves me and my dress in a mess when it splashes all over the place.

I catch my breath as the red cascades all over me.

"What is wrong with you?" Daemon asks, as he pulls the now empty container from me. I grab the other one and run away to drink as much as I could. I barely get to drink any as the prince grabs it. He pulls away from me to empty its contents out the window.

I fight against him when he does so, and out of annoyance, he grabs me by the throat, making my hands dart to his grip.

He releases me when all the wine is wasted. He moves away to put the object back where I got it.

I groan and heave as I watch him walk away.

By the time I catch my breath, I storm towards him. "Stop using your fucking strength against me!" I screech. I lunge at him just as he turns. I manage to the glass he just placed back on the table.

I manage to hit him once on the nose but he he catches both my arms before I could injure him further.

Part of me is shocked when he begins to bleed, but another part is enticed by the way he licks the red off his lips.

Of course, he overpowers me. He brings my hands down in front of him and eyes me darkly. I whine out in pain at how roughly he was gripping me. I eventually release the container and it drops to the floor with a crashing sound.

He pushes me back, and I could do nothing against it.

I crash down on my bed, breathing taxed, I look up at him as he seals my hands beside my head. I am unable to move beneath his bodyweight.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he hisses as his blonde hair falls down to my face.

I find myself laughing at his vexation, "you're awfully clueless for someone that was there."

His nostrils flare. Discomfort shots on his face because of his injury, "were you seriously affected by that vermin's words?"

I laugh harder. Daemon makes a face at the hot, alcohol laced breath that hits him. "Of course not."

"Then why?"

"See, the difference between you and I is that I actually know I'm a lunatic," I crane my neck up at him, "while you are wound up in your own self-righteousness."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

I drop my head and close my eyes. Castella's face burns in my mind, "I just ruined my sister's life."

"No," he quips, loosening his grip when he feels me relax beneath him, "you saved her from marrying into a family of idiots."

Daemon measures my reaction before he pulls away from me. Tears continue to leave my shut eyes when I feel my shoes get pulled off me. I am too sad to care about how I am suddenly being hoisted up. Daemon has me lean against him when he peels me out of my dress.

He makes me sit up on my own. I open my eyes when he caresses my face.

He wipes my tears with his thumb while examining me for a moment. He then undoes the braids and accessories fashioned in my hair.

I fall back on the cushion when he is done. At this point he pulls my skirt down my legs.

My sobs are slightly ceased when I feel a damp towel get thrown at me.

"Wipe yourself down."

I don't. Why would I? I don't care. Where did he even get this?

Daemon returns to me, grumbling in High Valyrian as he takes the towel and wipes the red stains on my skin away.

I only realize he was changed out into his own sleeping attire when he puts me into my nightgown.

I look at him dumbly for a moment. It was as though I had forgotten everything that happened up until this moment. It was not farfetched after all. The candles in the room made his cut and inflamed nose look worse than what it was. Or at least that's what I tell myself.

I bring my hand to his face. He lets me.

He watches me silently.

More tears fall from my eyes, but I cannot bring myself to apologize. I don't even know if I feel sorry.

Daemon does not need it. He shifts on the bed and pulls me onto him when he leans back by the pillows on the headboard. I look at him and shift from my spot, moving to straddle his lap. He places his hands on my thighs as he watches me wipe my tears away.

I take a moment to calm myself. I take a moment to gather my thoughts. I feel Daemon relax beneath me. I feel him rub my thighs in comfort. It's enough for me to roll my hips on his.

He holds back as moan as he leans his head back.

The next moment, he hisses and holds me in place, "you will not remember it was I that fucked you in your state."

"Then tell me in the morning."

He says my name as though it was a warning.

"If you did not want me, then I would not be on your lap."

"And that's the problem, isn't it," he chides, throwing me down on the bed, spinning us around so that I was again under his mercy, "I want you. I want you every second of every day, and yet you do not want me back."

I am unremorseful of his words. I am stoic beneath him as I press my feet on the cushions, "and why would I want you?"

"Because you should be mine!" he mutters sharply, "-are mine. You are promised to marry me!"

I begin to feel exhaustion wrap around me. I close my eyes.

He grabs my head and pulls me close, "yet you insult me by readying yourself to the first man you say your eyes upon."

I am uninterested when I retort, "you only want me because I do not want you, Daemon," I wrap my arms around him and peel my eyes open, "but I do not want you to want me like that."

I wrap my legs around him and suck in a deep breath, "I want you to want me like Ezekiel, who begged at the gates for a mere glance of my face."

Daemon's jaw clenches.

"Like Allyrion, who you still have in locked in our prison but comes alive when I grace him with my presence," I whisper, "the Dalt brothers, Timothy and Bolton, who now despise each other because of how they both wanted to marry me. Rowan, who feels no regret, though you broke his arm after catching us fuck in this very room."

He heaves and attempts to pull away from me.

He drops my head and I grab his, pulling him close, "you want my fire, dragon, but you must scrape the skin on your knees begging for it like everyone else before you."

Daemon does not take kindly to this.

He never does.

He thinks he's so smart and scary but he doesn't realize that he plays into my desires as easily as his temper is triggered.

He leans back into me and shuffles with his clothing. "I'll make you show me how to beg," he seethes.

He was never one to shy from a fight, and in this moment, he was fighting both me and himself with every bit of him. The next second, he is ramming all his anger and frustrations into me.

I admit, it's truly a humbling experience to be at his mercy, helpless, unable to do anything that he will not allow. And yet as he breaks me, he helps me continuously break him the way I have been the moment I met him. I squeal out his name as my mind races with the thought.

He presses my hands beneath his. He is so rough and forceful I begin to slip upward because of his actions. He does not care, and only busies himself by losing his sanity over my wetness, my screams. But then it annoys him and he has no other choice but to pin me down by hips.

"Tell me who's fucking you like this?"

"Daemon," I obediently retort.

He hums as he maneuvers my legs, "and do you want me to stop?"

I whine gutturally, "no! Don't stop!"

His annoying and spiteful self does just that though, and leaves me in a panting mess as I look up at him.

"Beg for it."

I plan my timing carefully. I watch how he watches me, thinking he's in control. I reach out to his hands and lick my lips as I roll against him.

"BEG, I SAID."

"Daemon pleeeasssee," I whine as I roll my head back and arch my back.

"Louder."

"Daemon, please!"

"Louder!"

"DAEMON JUST FUCKING FUCK ME-" I rip out with a high pitched moan when he begins to thrust into me again. He leans down and begins to sink his face into neck as he continues his brutalization.

I let out unabashed cries of pleasure as he sucks on my skin. I dig my hands into the roots of his hair and call out his name like a sacred prayer.

"I will burn my seed into you," he threatens, "you will not escape me. I will fuck you over and over and over again until you're swollen and spent."

Daemon excites himself with the idea and picks up the pace, "your pretty cunt will bear me a strong Targaryen."

I picture the idea of carrying his blonde babe.

He tightens his hold on me.

"I will put a dragon in you," he mutters, pulling away to rest his forehead on mine, "and have us married at daybreak by the traditions of my house."

I whine at the building tension in my stomach.

Daemon lets his mind wander. Lets himself imagine his future, his children, his bride.

He closes his eyes and loses himself as he buries all his thoughts deep beneath him. He relishes the warmth, the softness, the readiness beneath his unforgiving force.

I catch my breath as I dig my teeth into his skin, absolutely ready to come undone before him. "Daemon," I whisper arduously.

That's all it takes for him to realize what he's doing.

Before either of us could even reach our highs, his pace begins to grow sloppy. I whimper at the loss and do not wait for him to quicken his pace again.

With a grunt, I roll him off me and find myself on top him.

I look down on him as I ride him. I lock his neck in my grip. He chokes at my harshness and I lick my teeth at the sight of him. I allow him the courtesy of a breath as I fuck myself on him. I knew he would not have it in him to stop me.

And just as I thought, he holds onto my hips and screws his eyes shut, basking in the feel of me.

I groan as I watch him, "come inside me, my dragon. Claim me like you have been dreaming."

Daemon digs his nails into my flesh. His final act of deviance. It is for naught. He is powerless against me.

And in the rare occasion, we both come at the same time. The feeling is overwhelming, mind melting, toe curling. It is the best fuck we've had in a while.

I do not relent against him. I milk both our reactions for all that I've got, and once I'm reeling, I allow myself to stay on top of him for a moment to catch my breath.

He opens his eyes when I pull away from him.

He thinks about what he said, his desires for his seed.

I think about how badly I want to wash myself down.

Daemon watches me as I head off to the bathroom. He's already cleaned up by the time I return.

He does not wake before dawn. He had been relishing the warmth in his arms. This was why when he opened his eyes and saw nothing but a ghost of who he laid with, he was awakened with bitterness and betrayal.

He is unkept when I see him in the courtyard. He did not fix his hair, did not wash his face, did not change out of his nightly attire. He stares at me as I am served breakfast.

"My prince," I smile, "might you join me for some food?"

Daemon looks at me for a moment, watches as I scold the maid for giving me the chipped tea cup that I absolutely despised.

I turn to him when he walks over to me.

One of the servants pull the chair out for him and I offer another smile. Daemon does not sit down when I tell the servants to prepare his preferred dish.

"Last night..."

I look at Daemon and knit my brows.

"What happened to your nose?" I question as grab his hand and make him sit down next to me. He does not resist. He does not pull away when I push his wild hair back. I move the chair closer to his. There is skidding sound because of it.

When he does not reply, I know my mind games are working. I braid his hair behind him when I repeat, "last night."

Daemon does not move. "I promised I would marry you at daybreak," he whispers.

"Did you?" I feign ignorance, "it's a little too late for that now though," I chuckle.

He grabs my hand, just as I managed to reach the ends of his long hair. I look at him.

My face does not betray me, but his does.

"Do you remember?" he mutters.

I purse my lips, "there is an ache in between my legs. I wished it was you because the moron came inside me."

He releases me and stands. He debates the sincerity of my words. He recounts all the other times I got drunk out of my mind, how he saw the blankness of my eyes when he recounted the activities we did when I was intoxicated.

He measures my current expression against that. He does not know if he wishes it were true or not.

I release a sigh, "do not hold my poor drunken memory against me now, all because you said you would marry me at daybreak."

Daemon clenches his fist, "forget the thought."

I quirk my brows at him.

"I will marry you in the traditions of my house in front of your father, in front of everyone."

I look at him. I look at his violet eyes and blink slowly, "alright."

That's all you could say?

The servant comes back holding the dish he enjoyed. I watch as the food is placed before him, "will you join me now, or would you like me to wait for you to get yourself sorted?"

Daemon feels his pulse quicken. His nostrils flair, "wait for me."

He does not see me nod as he immediately walks off.

When he returns, his entire body tingles at the sound of laughter.

Behold, your brothers have returned.

"Daemon!" I call, waving at him the moment I spot him. I have both my arms flung over the shoulders of my two younger brothers that came after me. The third one that was sitting on the chair I was sat on just a moment.

"Prince Daemon," one of them says.

"Or perhaps we should call him brother."

I roll my eyes, "he is not your brother."

"Well, he will be soon enough."

I shake my head as I watch Daemon come close, "come now. Your food is getting cold."

Daemon is acutely aware of the unintentional alienation he is put into. The brothers coddle their eldest and recount every detail of their trip without a pause, sparing nothing out of it.

He looks at his food and watches a fly that land on it.

Daemon would join this family, much sooner than he expected, and yet, he was no different to the fly on his food.

I catch his distraught expression and find myself smiling.

[xxnymeriatargaryenxx]

imagine getting your 🐱 ate on these stairs omggg or being bent over 🔥🔥

[sweetbonniebel]

Jaes's hen jēdar

God's of the sky

Daemon x reader, Rhaenyra x reader (platonic), Qoren Martell x reader

Synopsis: y/n Targaryen daughter of Baelon the brave and Gael the winter child changes the brutal future of house Targaryen.

Masterlist:

one

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three

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five

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seven

eight

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ten

eleven

twelve

thirteen

fourteen

fifteen

sixteen

[happilyhertale]

A royal encounter - Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader x Oberyn Martell

Summary: Daemon had a great idea to bring a breath of fresh air into your marriage. But his plans were thwarted.

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader x Oberyn Martell

Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; oral f receiving, fingering (f in v and f in a), p in v sex, p in a sex

Author’s note: To celebrate the one year anniversary of my very first posted story, I've decided to finally post the Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader x Oberyn Martell story.... I hope you like it! And… Thanks for reading my stories for a year! 🖤 I am very happy that you still want to read my stories!

English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Word count: 3.3 k

Other stories of mine

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You cling to the railing with your hands. Daemon's hands dig into your hips almost unpleasantly, the marks of his fingernails will be visible for a long time. His thrusts slowly subside and his breath comes heavily. A warm breeze envelops you, here on the balcony of your old chambers. You have sought a little excitement, escaping the boring ball that has lured many lords and ladies to King's Landing. That's how Daemon came to practically push you into your old chambers for a bit of excitement.

You are both still breathing heavily as Daemon slowly pulls out of you. His soft laugh rings out as he gently kisses your nose.

But then this gentle moment is interrupted as someone applauds you and a clap is heard.

For a second Daemon's gaze meets yours before he looks over his shoulder and sees Prince Oberyn Martell standing in the middle of the chambers. He grins, "Perhaps I should have tried harder to seduce a Targaryen princess after all," Prince Oberyn says cheekily. In one movement Daemon pulls his trousers completely up and spins around, his eyes narrowing.

"Oh, is the Prince of Dorne trying to make a pass at my wife?" hisses Daemon.

A gasp escapes you and you try to hide your naked body behind Daemon's. Your gaze wanders, searching for your dress, which Daemon had torn off you just moments before.

As Prince Oberyn chuckles, "No... But now that I've seen how much fun you've had, I wish I'd had it too," he says to him. Daemon's gaze falls slightly over his shoulder, seeing you trying to cover your body. He sees you reaching for your dress, which is lying on the floor.

He looks back at Oberyn and his mood suddenly seems more relaxed. He starts to button up his shirt, "I think we were just looking for a little excitement here," Daemon replies.

"But..," Daemon adds suddenly, "if you want to join us, I could certainly be persuaded."

You are pulling up your dress and frowning when you hear his words, "Daemon? Did you just invite Prince Oberyn to a threesome?" you ask him a little shocked.

Daemon hears your words, but before he can say anything back, Oberyn intervenes. 

"A threesome?" asks Prince Oberyn with a grin, "I would have thought you were a jealous husband rather than an adventurous one...". Oberyn's words echo through the chambers and your eyes fall on Daemon again. You know he can be jealous, but this time something else is reflected in his eyes.

Daemon chuckles softly, "We could have a good time in these old chambers here," he says mischievously, "It might make everything a little more exciting." Daemon turns slightly, looking you straight in the eye, "What do you think? Is the Prince of Dorne a threat to our marriage?" he asks you gently. His thumb gently strokes your cheek.

You are not easily embarrassed, but this idea makes you blush. You bite your lip lightly, the pulsing between your legs reignited. Prince Oberyn was a handsome man. No less handsome than your husband, but in total contrast.

"No... he's not a threat. I only love you..." you say softly to Daemon.

Your gaze drifts to Prince Oberyn and his mischievous grin jumps out at you. He begins to unbutton his shirt and his lightly tanned chest is revealed. It is a stark contrast to your fair skin. Gently he brushes his shirt off his shoulders, revealing muscles that are rather small compared to Daemon's – he is defined but slender in stature. You step forward and stand next to Daemon.

But Daemon's gaze follows Oberyn's actions as he unbuttons his shirt, looking at his wife. He sees pure lust in Oberyn's eyes, the brown of his eyes barely discernible – his pupils dilated with lust.

Daemon notices how handsome Oberyn is and feels an excitement welling up inside him.

Oberyn's gaze falls on Daemon's face and notices Daemon trying to hide his excitement, but he sees his eyes fixed on the scene before him. A smile spreads across Oberyn's face. Oberyn walks towards you and slowly kneels on the ground in front of you.

You gasp briefly as his gaze goes up to you and he smiles at you. His hands reach for your dress and slowly begin to lift it.

The blush on your face continues to spread to your cleavage. Never has another man been about to touch you like this.

As Oberyn's voice brings you back to reality, "The blush is much more visible on your pale skin, Princess," he murmurs, "No need to be nervous, you'll enjoy it"

You bite your lip, even though you don't want to be nervous, you feel it flood through you.

You feel Daemon behind you, his hands on your shoulder. His thumbs glide gently over the crook of your neck. However unfamiliar this situation may be, Daemon's touch soothes you.

"Well?" asks Oberyn suddenly, "Do you want me to have her?" 

Your eyes slide from Oberyn's to Daemon's purple eyes. Slightly peeking over your shoulder, your lips meet, "I want you both, Daemon..." you whisper against his lips.

Oberyn chuckles lightly as he lifts your dress further. You're not wearing any undergarments and as Oberyn pushes your dress up to your hips, your light pubic hair is revealed.

"Mmm, the silver hair of the Targaryens..." he murmurs, pressing his face into it. A smile crosses his face, the smile of an artist when he sees the masterpiece he has created. 

You gasp as Oberyn presses his face into your pubic area. You exhale heavily, watching Oberyn enjoy the warmth of your private parts.

Daemon watches Oberyn and a slight, excited growl forms in his chest. Your previous words, "I want you both," also add to his arousal. Daemon's lips gently touch your neck as his hands begin to slide your dress down from your shoulders.

Prince Oberyn lets his tongue slide slowly through your womanhood. His fingers gently pull apart your folds so he can fully enjoy you.

You moan as you feel Oberyn's tongue find your bundle of nerves and gently circle it.

A "mmhmm" sounds from Oberyn as he pushes his face further into you. Your breath quickens as you feel Daemon lightly bite the soft skin of your neck and Oberyn circles his tongue faster. Your moans echo through the chambers.

When Oberyn suddenly lets go of your warm core and you whimper in disappointment. Your eyes fall on Oberyn, who looks up at you. His lips are glistening with your juice. Slowly he stands up and begins to open his trousers. Meanwhile Daemon lets your dress fall to the floor. His hands slide to your breasts, massaging them lightly. His thumbs and fingers grip your nipples, teasing them lightly. His lips continue to caress your neck as another moan leaves your lips.

You are now standing naked in front of them both. And your teeth don't want to release your lip. As Oberyn takes one of your hands and leads you away from Daemon. You take a step and slip out of your dress, which is lying at your feet. Slowly he leads you to the bed.

You climb onto the bed and Oberyn, who is naked himself, lies down beside you and begins to caress your body with his fingers. You see how Oberyn's hot length is already aroused and unlike Daemon's, a dark ring surrounds his size. You can't resist, you run your fingers through the hair. Oberyn grins at you and now he lightly bites his lip.

Your eyes fall on Daemon and you watch as his gaze is fixed on you. A shiver runs down your spine as you see his gaze follow Oberyn's fingers on your skin. Daemon begins to undress, his eyes never leaving you. First his shirt falls, revealing his muscular torso. The scars from all the battles won litter his pale skin. Your arousal rises immensely. As Daemon undresses from the waist down and his arousal immediately springs free, you moan. The way Daemon stands in front of you and Oberyn's fingers find their way between your thighs is too exciting.

Daemon's attention is on you, the love of his life, and the tanned man next to you, caressing you on the bed and sliding his fingers through your wetness. Daemon comes towards you with long strides, gently sliding himself onto the bed with you. His fingers find your hips, reach into your curves as he begins to play around your nipple with his tongue. You moan again as his teeth begin to nibble lightly. 

Daemon's lips slowly glide up your neck. A game of kisses and light bites until he encloses your lips. You breath into his mouth as Oberyn slides his hand to your bottom and turns you to Daemon. You lie on your side, your hand glides over Daemon's chest to his neck while your tongues dance wildly around each other. Oberyn brushes your silver hair aside and begins to kiss your neck softly. His fingers slide down your thigh, until his hand reaches the curves of your bottom and grips firmly. You whimper into Daemon's mouth. Oberyn releases your butt cheek and lets his fingers slide between your thighs. You whimper again as he covers his finger with your wetness and slides it to your butt hole. He applies light pressure and your whimpering repeats itself.

His fingers are slick with your wetness, easing the way as they tease the sensitive spot. He wants to push you further, to see how far you're willing to go. Experimentally, he stroked his fingers against your hole.

Oberyn's breath hitches as your hips begin to move slightly. A soft sound comes from you and your bottom presses lightly against his finger, your slight gasp sending a wave of satisfaction through him. He pressed a little harder, his finger slowly sliding into your tight, forbidden entrance.

The feeling of you around his finger, it all fueled his desire, igniting a primal need within him. He let out a low grunt in response, his own pleasure intertwining with yours.

He could feel his own cock hardening almost painfully, aching for the intense pleasure that only you could provide at the moment. The sound of your whimpering, your vulnerability and need, only served to heighten his own desire to please you.

Daemon's fingers mirror Oberyn's movements as his fingers slide between your legs. His attention is on your clit at first until he slides them inside you. You hear him growl softly as he feels the walls of your cunt already clenching around his fingers.

Daemon looks at you with slightly parted lips, enjoying the sight of ecstasy on your face. "You always take my fingers so well inside of you," Daemon mumbles a little breathlessly, "just like my tongue... My cock"

You whimper again and your fingers grab his biceps.

Daemon growls again and his gaze falls on Oberyn, who grunts slightly as he slides his fingers into your butthole.

"The princess is so tight," Oberyn murmurs and Daemon feels a tingle inside him as he hears the words. You gasp and bite your lip lightly as Oberyn's fingers thrust deeper, his warm breath on your neck.

Daemon lets his lips meet yours again, both of you breathing heavily, his fingers thrusting faster into you, completely wet with your juices. He starts to insert another finger into you and you moan almost desperately. The sensation of your wetness coating his fingers only fueled his desire further, knowing that you are becoming more and more receptive to his touch. He elicits a long whine from you as he curls his digits against your sensitive walls.

You feel the fingers thrusting into you. But this time it's so much more than usual. Daemon's fingers keep rubbing over the rough part of your wet walls, making you whimper, while Oberyn's fingers keep stretching your tight hole, awakening the feeling inside you that you need to feel so much more.

You moan out loud and before you've fully realised it, you feel Daemon's fingers pull out of you and slide his hot length through your wet folds. You whimper slightly each time he grazes your sensitive pearl. You moan even louder as he presses lightly against your entrance and you whimper again at the thought of how perfectly he will fill you.

"I think the princess will be perfectly filled tonight," Oberyn whispers, followed by a slight chuckle, as if he can read your mind. His lips still pressed against your neck as his fingers continue to explore your depths.

Daemon thrusts hard into you and your walls give way to his size. Daemon grunts loudly as he's back in his warm, soft home. His large hand slides to the back of your thigh, but you are distracted by the penetrating thrusts. He grabs your thigh and guides your leg closer to his body, placing your knee on his hip so he can penetrate you deeper.

He thrusts forward again and again, conjuring up the sweetest whimpering noises from you.

When you suddenly feel Oberyn's fingers leave your tight hole, you almost feel an emptiness inside you that needs to be filled. But then you feel his cock sliding along between your thighs from behind. Again and again he rubs it through your wet folds, soaking it with your wetness, while Daemon continues to thrust into your cunt.

Oberyn's cock throbbed with desire while his lips are still pressed against your neck. His breathing becomes heavier and you feel the warmth on the soft skin of your neck as he positions himself at your tight entrance.

You're slightly distracted by Daemon's thrusts and grunts, but you feel Oberyn begin to press the tip of his cock against your butt hole. You cry out slightly, but it ends in a long moan.

With a deep, primal grunt, he presses the tip of his cock against the entrance, feeling the resistance and tightness that awaits him. The whimpers and moans escaping your lips only fuelled his desire, his own need becoming unbearable.

But your butthole quickly gives way. Still slightly stretched by Oberyn's fingers, it almost greedily envelops the tip of his cock. You hear Oberyn moaning in your ear, breathing heavily.

"Gods... Princess... I haven't even been all the way inside you yet and you already feel so divinely tight," Oberyn murmurs breathlessly – you can only whimper.

Oberyn follows Daemon's rhythm and every time Daemon pushes your pelvis backwards, Oberyn takes the opportunity. Your bottom is pushed towards Oberyn again and again and each time he thrusts a little harder to meet your movements.

You feel yourself getting restless and your hand suddenly reaches for Oberyn's bottom. Your hand grips his small, firm bottom and squeezes gently. Oberyn continues to thrust slowly but firmly and you are caught up in the feeling of wanting to feel him deeper, but the slight pain forces you to take it slowly. But your hand starts to push him closer to you as a mix of whimpers and moans leave you. Oberyn stretches you further and further and your eyes roll into the back of your head.

With one final, powerful thrust, Oberyn conquers your tight hole and moans loudly. You cry out briefly, but the pain quickly subsides and gives way to pure pleasure. You realise how completely filled you are. Daemon and Oberyn are now thrusting in unison and you are trapped in their grips – and you don't want it to end. You put your head back and Oberyn immediately turns his attention back to your neck. He bites in lightly as he thrusts into your tight hole.

"Gods... Gods... fuck..." leaves his lips again and again.

With a primal instinct, he grabs your hips and slides closer to you. His thrusts now go deeper. He savours your tightness and the pleasure he brings you. The sound of your soft cries and moans fill the air as Daemon and Oberyn thrust into you, driving them both even further into a state of primal lust.

Daemon's hand is still on your thigh, lifting it slightly as he thrusts into your cunt. Oberyn's fingers grip your hips tighter as his thrusts penetrate you from behind.

Daemon grunts to himself, feeling the unusual resistance on his cock every time Oberyn thrusts into you and it turns him on. He thrusts harder and feels your cunt literally pulsating. His hand slides from your thigh to your breast, gripping it tightly as his lips slam onto yours. A wild kiss, accompanied by whimpers and moans, unfolds between you.

Your foot slides to the back of his thigh, wanting to pull him closer, needing to feel him deeper.

Daemon breathes heavily and grunts as your kiss ends. His eyes are fixated on the sight of you taking Oberyn's cock up your ass as he continues to fuck your cunt. The combination of your actions, the raw lust emanating from you, elicits a primal moan from deep within him.

With each thrust, he feels the lust building inside him and the need for release becomes almost unbearable. But he wants to savour this moment, savour your pleasure, revel in the intoxicating connection you share. Daemon's hand lets go of your breast and slides to your leg again.

His grip is firm and so are his thrusts, which become more intense and violent. The sound of your moans and the beginning trembling of your thighs only fuel his desire and bring him even closer to the edge.

You feel that you are about to come. The sensation of being filled in both holes is almost too much and you feel the familiar pressure spreading through your abdomen.

"Yes... Come on my cock," Daemon grunts, " Show me how good it feels for you to be filled like this," he grunts as his cock starts to twitch dangerously as well. Oberyn starts grunting behind you. He can feel your whole abdomen literally start to clench. His hand slides from your hip to your warm core. You look down, breathing heavily, and see Daemon thrusting into you and Oberyn's fingers begin to rub your clit. You are a moaning mess. The pressure inside you becomes almost unbearable.

"Be an obedient wife... come while our cocks fill you," Oberyn grunts in your ear as his fingers rub faster.

You only whimper, followed by a loud moan.

"I'm going to fill you up, princess... My seed will fill this tight hole," Oberyn grunts further, thrusting deeper.

And then you come, your cunt clenches around Daemon's cock, milking him and driving him over the edge with you. He growls and grunts loudly, pumping his cum deep into your cunt with deep thrusts.

Oberyn follows shortly after you and dresses your dark walls in white. He bites the back of your neck and immerses himself in the sensation. The grips on your body are firm, the feeling wonderful.

You whimper softly as the grunting around you slowly dies down. There is a smell of sweat and sex in the air. Heavy breathing echoes off the walls. Your light whimpers come to a climax as the two of them slowly pull out of you. Exhausted, you let yourself sink against Daemon's chest while Oberyn lies on his back, breathing heavily. His hand rests on your bum, stroking it gently.

"Maybe I should visit King's Landing more often after all..." mumbles Oberyn as he looks up at the ceiling.

Your eyes are closed, but instead of a reply, you hear a slight chuckle from Daemon.

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Tag list:

@hoshi-miharu-blog @arryn-nyx @aemonds-eyeball @praline357 @melsunshine @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @lauftivy @valeskafics @sylasthegrim @dreamlandcreations @hopelesswritergall @wetbitchlibrary @arcielee @just-some-random-blogger @softyhwrt @bl4ckph0enix

[themotherofblood]

Ruie, my dear, I was re-reading "The Dragon and The Dancer" and if you are still writing/accepting requests can I get a prequel(before the events of "laut ke ajana") where she dances for Daemon (with some nsfw) please?

ugh first of all, I hope your pillow is always cold, your charger cords never break and may you find money on the streets just for funsises.

second of all!!! Saaiyan Hatto Jao would be such a fitting song, of Dancer seducing Daemon so let’s go!

Daemon Targaryen x Martell!Wife!Reader

tw: exhibitionism? kinda misogynistic but bare with me pls 🤭 clit play, fivesome(kinda), breeding kink, humiliation, oral m and f receiving. mf(fff), mentions of underage stuff ekkk

main masterlist

In whatever capacity Daemon had within himself to restrain himself from his pretty wife was surely a bravery the Maesters ought to write in books. He had graced the courts of Lys multiple, multiple times. That's where he’d found Mysaria all those years ago. She was a whore, and dancer but a whore. He visited the city twice in his youth, in all his glory mounted open the ominous visage that was Caraxes yet not once was he esteemed enough to watch the infamous courtesans of Lys. Those women, wretched but entrancing women who invited the ones their hearts pleased, unlike any other establishment that would let in anyone with a coin to throw.

Imagine his surprise when an enticing swan from that very establishment had been under his nose this entire time, part of him cursed himself for not seeing it earlier. Something of such enchanting breeding couldn’t have simply come from the loins of Qoren Martell, and knowing your parentage was from Lys. If you weren’t already an insatiable spirit, Daemon pawed at your skirts even more now. He knew that the matter of you dancing was rather sensitive since your mother’s passing and he would never impose himself onto you otherwise.

Yet it couldn’t help taunt the perverse within him, such was the beauty of the Lysenees courtesans. To entice a man wild with just the melody of their voices and the ancient craft of their dance. Many a man with pockets deep enough to raise kingdoms lost their prospects at the doorsills of these bewitching girls.

You spoke of it at length with him once, sat in a warm bath overlooking the sunset, how esteemed of a pupil you were and come of age, your introductory performance had carriages lined for ten streets. Should the time have come, you might have even become the Madam of the establishment with age. The more you excelled in your art the more you feared of never leaving that place like your mother had wished for you. You not once loathed dancing, you hated the politics— you hated how wars began at the backs of courtesans partaking in spying against the very lords they once served to backstab and plot away at every chance they got for their survival. You rather missed the morning singing lessons and the sounds of your sister's anklets running up and down the halls.

“You keep such things from me,” Daemon muttered against your bare shoulder, peppering kisses up to your “You sing?”

You nodded, lifting your head to look at him with a sheepish smile.

It wouldn’t take a lunatic to envision your sweet voice singing away… singing just for him. He tried, he tried so very hard to not let his twitch cock at the thought of it, he was sure you felt it.

“What am I to do with you.” He groaned.

For a wish he had dreamt of since he was near seven and ten, no amount of gold named to the second Targaryen prince would get him inside that establishment, not after he had claimed Caraxes— a magnanimous beast that could burn all those witches in there all at once and not even after aiding the Free Cities with its odd brawls with one another.

And here the damned gods had blessed him with his wish, perched upon his lap. Eager to please him, vowed to obey and be with him till death do them part. Curious how the world worked.

You were no fool, like an animal in rut you had felt Daemon’s demeanour change since the day he discovered you were an untouched courtesan and caught you dancing in the Mirrored Palace alone. You were no stranger to the allure and aura that followed from being who you were, or who your performative personality is.

There is no harm done you thought, you had no joy in dancing for the men at court yet the sound of perhaps performing— truly performing for your lord husband seemed titillating.

It was the conditioning perhaps, to have a noble lord claim a courtesan all to himself, it showed one of two things. A lord with immensely fat pockets or a woman worth nearly a kingdom and its cavalry.

What were you worth? A fucking dragon-lord, a kingdom can’t be worth much if it’s ash. With your children most likely inheriting dragons too, you would by comparison must have outshone all your sisters back in Lys. Such fortune all for a pretty song and the swaying of one’s hips.

When Daemon had told you about is escapades in Essos, especially of how many times the poor prince had tried to gain an audience at your former court. You internally giggled at the picture of a young Daemon clamouring like the rest with gifts and praises to win the attention of your house Madam at the time. Even when he returned with a dragon he was barred, and it wasn’t unusual. Your Madam enjoyed playing with fire, toying with how far she could push men just to catch a glimpse of one of her girls.

Come to think of it, she might have been trying to grasp for an invitation to the Old King’s court, set up an establishment in King’s Landing. But one thing you’d learned from the stories Daemon told you about King’s Landing. Much of the courtesan's work would be polluted by the lack of affection for its craft.

You couldn't deprive him so, not when he paid you handsomely, ravishing your body each night like a silent prayer. Even having seen you, felt you and taught you things that would go beyond the means of a courtesan’s work. You saw the passion in his eyes when he’d find you fixing your ghungroos or humming under your breath as you worked on your needlepoint. The tests of a true Madam now laid at your feet, not only to devise an elaborate function for your dear husband but to be discreet and the most essential part of it all, for you to be perfection.

You’d pick the night of the coming full moon, you knew your father would have grumbled himself to his chambers rather early, the change in tides somehow always made him ill. Your sisters would all be abed, Daemon’s daughter’s too. The commendable part were your lady’s maids, pussyfooting away orders of flowers from Pentos, the special vials of rose oil from Qarth, at least a hundred candles to light up the arched viewpoint at the Watergardens. Daemon’s favourite foods to be prepared along with fine strong wines from the Old Palace cellars.

The intricacies of this function had been handled with such care and secrecy, that it made you consider moving into the manse your father had gifted you after your wedding for some privacy. Surely, a married— happily married couple engaging in salacious acts with one another shouldn't be unexpected. Lastly your lehenga, unlike the ones you usually wear, was truly a magnificent piece made by the dressmaker. A black velvet blouse with a dangerously low neckline and shoulder embroidered with dragons of red and gold threads, a lighter skirt of silk with heavy gold embroidery and embellishments and a chiffon embellished shawl that did nothing to hide your figure.

Another ruse was set up to hide your true schemes, a quaint supper with just you and Daemon being entertained by folk singers sent by Yi Ti.

The evening had been rather splendid, Daemon had no interest in listening to some fucks sing about in a tongue he understood not, but when his sweet wife insisted upon spending the evening together: he couldn't deny you.

He suspected that you were up to something, with supper being prepared, dishes lined up one after the other which were all those he shamelessly indulged in, the rather aged wine that you had been consuming a little too much of. He did not mind, either way, fucking his wife tonight sober or a sweet slobber mess— all was well in the world. After what seemed like a while, Daemon finally felt at ease, calm with a purpose that he belonged, with his daughters and you.

“Excuse me, dearest.” you whispered against his ear, smiling before pecking his cheek “I’ll be back.”

Daemon smiled back, watching you rise from the floored cushions that the both of you nested on, his eyes very shamelessly admiring your backside and the curves of your hips as you walked back into your quarters. He marvelled at the thought of ripping that very lovely maroon gown of your body. The colour change had been a sudden shock to him when you fluttered your way into the sparring wards in a Dornish gown painted in the dark crimson of his house’s colour. Rest assured the sparring continued later in the evening and the gown alas did not survive.

You had slipped out easily, just as the doors closed behind you, the lot of you bolted the opposite direction to your privy and down the hallways, skirts hiked up as you used your other hand to free your hair of the loose Westerosi braids they were in. Your maids ran with you, two of them already waiting by the Watergardens along with the the whore dancers you had acquired all outfitted in white and the esteemed musicians that played at every one of your events.

Hiding behind the thick shrubbery, your maids hastily stripped you off your gown and small clothes and replaced them with the ensemble made for tonight. You prayed to the gods while calming your breath from all that running, let it be perfect. The four girls would greet Daemon upon his arrival, even though they would be a finer treat than most men have had in this lifetime, you were another anthology entirely.

Daemon had been given his first clue after the Yi Ti performers had finally ended their never-ending song.

“The princess awaits you in the Watergardens, my prince.” the attendant had informed before scurrying away.

Whatever this was, Daemon was truly intrigued seemingly obeying his wife and heading straight out of the gardens without any delay. The show that greeted him there however had him taken aback for a moment, the garden pillars decorated in blossoms and twinkling candles scattered across the stairs leading to the arches. He could hear the mellow music and the serene sound of flute dancing along with the crashing waves.

Just like a dream come true, he was greeted by the sound of ghungroos— a sound he had grown accustomed to. Four girls rushed towards him, lifting their hands to their faces and bowing.

“Good evening, my prince.” one of them spoke.

“We have longed for your arrival, your grace.” said the other. Reaching forward for Daemon’s hand.

At any other time he might have pulled away, but this was surely orchestrated by his wayward wife. He could feel her around but couldn't see, and these girls— preening up at him like willing, wanting whores, they were no courtesans. He played along, letting them drag him along to the shore view where an elaborate arrangement awaited him. An old fire in him arose when his reputation had been so palpable at the many brothels across the Known World. Two of them pushed him onto the plush sete, giggling as one of them plops right next to him.

“Would you like some refreshments, my prince.” One of them said with a bunch of grapes in her hand, the other poured him a glass of wine. The third took her time feeling Daemon up, he thoroughly enjoyed this but longed for his wife— his courtesan. One of them began to unbutton the tops of his doublet, soft fingers trailing across his chest.

His sexual frustrations and anticipation began to pivot to a perverse ire, to find you hiding somewhere and reprimand you with your arse red for teasing him so.

That is when the sound of a heavier set of ghungroos echoed around the arches, there you were. Your glowing face against the moonlit sky and candles, you walked towards, body covered in a thick black shawl. The girls around him lifted their skirts and ran towards you, positioning themselves. Then came the music, a smirk so prominent settled itself on Daemon’s lips as his lifelong dream had now stood in fruition before him.

You seductively, inch by inch let the black shawl drop until it fell to the ground, looking at the shawl and suggestively looking up at your husband. You twirled thrice forward, ending right by Daemon’s legs and lowered yourself. He knew not of what you sang but it was as though a witch chanted spells to bind him to you.

The song you sang was one of innocence, a sweet girl begging her lover to let her return home— for the higher the moon rose in the sky her reputation hung by a thread. Ever so seductively telling him to stay away because she knew his true desires were so very impure.

Stay away my love, I know what you desire

You reached for the rose tucked in your blouse, reaching lower to gesture at your ghungroos, giving Daemona a rather exposed view of your bosom. You acted as if his looking had offended you and flicked the rose at him, you stood to continue your routine still singing without a note or beat missed. You knew within that you were perfection, it is what you were trained for from birth. This one performance should have costed half of Pentos, but look upon Daemon’s eyes was payment enough for you.

Night fades to dawn my love, please let me go home

You pulled your shawl of your head and down you your shoulder, toying with it around your cleavage. Eyebrows suggestively scrunched at Daemon, making him kiss the rose you gave him and throw it back at you which you caught with ease, letting the petal graze upon your cheek and then your lips lowering it further down the sides of your torso and tucking it this time at the lining of your skirt. You turn your back towards him swaying you hips as you walked away, turning once to wink at him and continuing to walk until the hardest part of the number began.

The percussion beats could never be missed by your feet, in a performative haze you smiled at the three dancers who also did an extraordinary job at keeping up with you. You turned one last time.

My mother and sister by law shall poke, where had I been, my love. I will die of embarrassment

You walked towards him this time, an exaggerated sway in your hip as you pulled your shawl out from your skirt lining and let it fall to the floor, you turned once more, performatively reaching for the back strings of your blouse and pulling them to mimic a sensual morning stretch. You turned towards your husband who had settled himself further into the cushion.

You kept singing as he reached his hand out, you took it letting him pull you onto his lap. Your soft finger held his face as you kept singing, leading his face towards your neck and he wasted no time in peppering kisses down your collarbone. You pushed him back there after which startled him, you could feel the hardened mound under his breeches— your payment.

Stay away my love, I know of what you desire.

Daemon had enough, still letting you finish your song, your eyes and eyebrows still expressing away your performative feelings as he reached for your Nath and removed it, a significant indication of deflowering a young courtesan.

Your song ended as you sat straddled upon Daemon’s lap, you gaze never left his— like you were another person entirely. Daemon relished in how he intimidated you, how shy and small you were around him, how receptive but innocent you remained even when he taught you to pleasure him and yourself in bed. Yet this woman sat atop him, you were someone else.

“Was it everything you ever dreamed of, my prince.” Your whispered, your hands caressing his face.

Daemon for a moment couldn’t find his words, that’s when you snapped from your performance growing anxious from the silence. You were about to pull away when Daemon abruptly spun you down onto the cushion so he lay towering over you, caging you under his broad build.

“How am I to pay you, my lady,” he said, wanting to rip the clothing off your body but he looked behind to still see the four girls standing.

“They are yours tonight my prince,” you nervously, your aura slipping back to the former “As am I.”

At that Daemon held no restraint and laid siege upon your body, he figured the lasses could still dance as Daemon would take you apart under the moonlit sky.

You held nothing back, arching your back onto the onslaught of Daemon’s lips. Letting your fingers feel the remaining buttons of his doublet and pushing them off his shoulder. This time you pushed back, the heat on your cheeks so apparent for you’d never thought to be so forthcoming in bed before, Daemon always held the reins, placing you in positions he liked, teaching you ways to pleasure yourself.

Daemon grunted for a moment, fighting against the push of your hands before giving in, letting you lay him back down once more. You straddled him once more, this time slipping back into the seductive performance you’d laid out for him. Smiling down at him as you slipped your blouse off, slowly— inch by inch before dropping it next to you.

Daemon’s lips parted in a gasp, though his cockiness would credit his lessons for confidence in this matter. He was further crazed by how much you appeared to be enjoying doing this. He couldn't help himself, reaching up to tweak at your left nipple. You began to roll your hips against the hardening of his breeches, your bare cunt under your skirt pressed at the girth giving you just a small burst of pleasure.

You did Daemon of his tunic, your fingers tracing his battle scars as you reached lower, letting your lips press against his warm skin— letting yourself inch lower and lower as you shuffled off him.

You both yearned greatly for one another, nearly four moons into your marriage and the passions you shared for one another only seemed to reach further heights with each passing day. A fire that Daemon had lit within you burned so bright for him every day. One might think you were born to be with him, obey him.

Daemon watched as you undid his pants, pulling them down his legs and not once leaving his eyes, you were an ethereal sight, bare-chested with his gifted jewels shining at your neck— so prepared to service him. You reached for his cock and that's when he stopped you.

His hands trailed to your head of wild hair, gently tugging at it. “You want my cock?” he said. Eyes wild and waiting for your response.

You meekly nodded, sticking your tongue out just as he taught you to. Wasting no time further he pushes your mouth onto his cock, letting your head bob and suction at his length. You worked your tongue around his cock, the taste of him so familiar in your mouth. You whimper as he pushes in further breaching the back of your mouth and making your eyes water.

“Who would have thought it hmm, the finest girl Lys could offer kneeled like a whore for me” his words falsely degrading you sending shockwaves straight to you your core.

You whimper, this time willingly taking him deeper feeling your throat want to constrict as you pull up for air— he however stops you briefly before giving you relief. A string of salvia lingering on your lips. He wiped at the tears polling around the corner of your eyes.

“Take the rest of it off girl,” he demanded, eyes ravenous and impatient.

You gathered your bearing before standing once more, pulling at the waist string of your skirts with no haste to tease him yet again. You let your skirt fall as you caught onto the rose still tucked at your waistline. You kissed it and threw it at him. Every look, every action towards you seemed to have been pooling your cunt wet.

Daemon grunted, yanking you back onto him. His lips smacked against yours once more as he took a harsh hold of your tit with one hand while the other held you here. His actions were voracious, seducing your soul rather than your body.

You took matters into your own hands, unable to keep up with this game any longer and reached for his cock— gently rubbing the tip at you folds before lowering yourself onto him.

Daemon groaned into your mouth as you gasped, having never felt him so deep, you held onto his shoulder fingernails digging in.

“You're so deep,” you whispered, your breath hitching as you adjusted to the intrusion.

His fingers dug into the flesh of your arse pulling you further down and full of him. You felt so close, so one with him. You began to grind your hip, your neck cranked as Daemon’s head dipped lower to kiss your shoulders and up your neck.

“Such a fine prize aren't you, tell me how do I pay you?” he said bucking his hips up into you making you sqwak.

“D-dragonseed… I want your babes.” you whispered, head hanging in a wanting shame.

Daemon smirked, he had forever hoped to make you swell of his children but he never knew your sweet mind craved to be bred.

“Go on then, take what you want.” he rested back on to his elbows, bucking his hips once more to coerce you to keep going.

You rested a hand on his torso using it as leverage to lift your hips to bounce into his cock. Your snug cunt milking him to fill you. Your smaller legs weren't enough to lift you that far off his cock, but you tried nonetheless. Daemon reached for your cunny, his thumb began to rub circles onto your clit sending you into a frenzy— riding him with far more determination.

It felt good, so very good.

“How does it feel darling? How does it feel riding a dragon.”

You let out a strained giggle at that, still unable to help your childish mind. You kept riding him, Daemon’s lips restraining a smile too at your ill-timed humour. Earning you a sharp smack on your left tit.

“It feels so good, so deep.”

Your hips found a steady rhythm against Daemon’s fingers at your bundle of nerves. Your each bounce ore eager than the one before. Your tits bobbing and calling for equal attention from Daemon.

“My prince!”

You moaned, feeling that pinnacle ever so close as you chased it.

“I’m all yours,” you said unprovoked “a courtesan trained just for you.”

Daemon nearly lost his bearings at that, pinching your nipple harder. Seven Hells— he knew you were made just for him.

“Say it again.”

“I was born to be your c- courtesan.” you cried, feeling so very close to completion.

Your thighs begin to shudder, he can feel them clenching— he lets go of your breast and grabs your hips in aid to feel you gush around him. A sudden pitched cry leaves your mouth as you tremble your bouncing coming to a halt as you fight to hold yourself up but Daemon’s fingers on your bundle of nerves don't stop.

He abruptly flips you over, readjusting you within a blink of an eye. Your bare body facing the dancers as Daemon’s solid wet-length rested on the curve of your ass.

“We could get your money’s worth,” he suggested nipping at your ear lobe, his demeanour shifted to the one of you loving husband. “We needn't—”

“I trust you.” you looked up at him, chest still heaving from your peak before and yet you always wanted more of him, more of his depravities.

So many fantasies, much to do.

He gestured them forward knowing they would take much time to shed their clothes, they were whores trained to dance.

All three of of them vulgarly bowed, giggling amongst themselves.

“My prince.” The chorus of their voice followed as they began their performance to reach for him.

He tutted— he’d die happy if he died tonight.

“Not me, her.” He ordered.

You looked back up at him, a curious flare in your eyes that was met with his top protruding at your sloppy opening once more.

The girls entirely shifted their attention onto you.

“Mhmm you have such lovely tits princess.”

“Such soft skin.”

“Such a fine figure, your grace.”

Daemon pushed into you once more, groaning and resting his head onto your shoulder. His palm curled around you neck pulling your back against his shoulder. He knew of the explosive pleasure you were about to discover, even more joy was that he would be the one giving it to you, a fine reward for my girl, the fruits of the lovely exhibition you'd put on for him.

He began fucking into you, small grunts and exhales lingered by your ear and what followed from there on had your mind scattered.

One whore settled on suckling your nipples, twisting and toying with the other. One muffled your moans with her lips upon yours. Your cunny was already sensitive but then you felt a sensation you never had before. The third girl kneeled by the nest and began to lick your bud.

“D— Daemon!”

The sensation so overwhelming you began to pull away, Daemon curled other arm firm around your torso to keep you in place as he continued rut into you.

“Feels good doesn’t it, my love?”

You could barely speak but you nodded, eyes shut feeling yourself so lost in every touch. One of the whores disappeared behind you, settling herself under Daemon to service his heavy stones.

He watched as the whores played with your tits, he too reach further up to tweak a pebble harshly between his fingers. You gasped at the burn of pain. The whore sucking at your teat came to your defence.

“Gentle my prince, breaking a thing so pretty isn’t fair”

“Not this one, her cunt is squelching around me.” he groans.

“Its true!” the girl by your cunt giggles.

Your cheeks burned in shame, they spoke of you like you weren't around. The whore licking your bud pushed at your folds to leave it exposed as she suckled and licked and rubbed away. Daemon’s cock fucked you raw from within and you felt it once more, hurtling towards.

“Go on, wet my cock my love.” he grunted fucking you harder.

His peak chased after as you broke first, gushing around his cock as you screamed his name. Legs and arms shuddering as Daemon grunted to completion himself, ropes of his spent coated your walls. You could feel the warmth within, nearly forfeited by your sensations. He held your body so close, recovering himself as he shooed the whores away.

Letting you collapse in the nest first and then himself. Laying soft kisses at your shoulder, still firmly holding your hand to ground you.

“Well done, my love.”

You lazily smiled at him, dazed in euphoria as you rubbed your feet against his calves.

“What have I done for fortune.” He whispered against your temple.

You shrugged at him, leaning forward to kiss him once more. “I hope you are pleased with my performance?”

Daemon shook his head, begging mesmerized by you. He let his hand rest at your belly.

“If giving you all this love,” he kissed your cheek. “My dragonseed,” he pressed onto you belly. “Isn’t indication of how very pleased I am sweet girl.”

Then you heard a high pitched squeal from the skies, clicks and then the rustle of trees around you. “Then perhaps I should show you what being a dragon feels like.”

Caraxes burst through the horizon behind your circling the skies as he lowered himself onto the white beach. You looked at Daemon puzzled, as he pulled you up to dress you.

“What are you doing?” You huffed putting your blouse back on.

“You want to have my children, it might be time that you grew accustomed to Caraxes.”

You kept dressing yourself to mask the fear that was coursing through your veins. I dance for him and he plans to kill me. You could barely muster the courage to be even ten feet around Moondancer and that beast was a babe. Caraxes is a behemoth, he protects your husband— he told you how the two of them were two halves of whole. It never made sense to you.

“Don’t be scared, halves of a whole remember?” he said as he bent down to lift you up by you back and legs once you finished dressing.

You’d rid yourself of your ghungroos just to not startle the beast.

“I love you, care for you. Therefore he does too.”

You weren’t sure about how sure he was about said theory. Yet you let him carry you to the beaches below where Caraxes sat waiting, when you saw him it almost appeared as though he was playing with sand. Shaking his snout it the sand to bury it and then exhaling to have sand fly everywhere, followed by loud clicks.

“Is he— is he playing?” You asked your husband.

“Told you, he’s harmless.”

That beast also burned dozens of Dornish men but alright.

Just as Caraxes felt Daemon’s presence he chirped up even more, his long neck swaying in the wind. However it only took a moment for his demeanour to flip when he realized there was another. You froze in Daemon’s arms at the low grumble Caraxes let out.

“Dohaeras Caraxes!” Daemon lowly warned the beast.

Caraxes still look unsure but Daemon kept walking.

He put you down a few feet from the beast, don’t run— don’t run. You watched as Daemon walked towards Caraxes without a care in the world that his wife might get fried tonight.

“Konir sagon ñuha ābrazȳrys, ao gīmigon zirȳla syt izula hūra, keligon issare quba.” That is my wife, you have know about her for four moons. I told you.

Daemon sounded like he was scolding the dragon.

He turned to you “Come my love.”

You obeyed, talking small steps towards him. Towards his outstretched hand. Everything would be fine, you trusted him. Entirely— wholeheartedly, with your life.

Just until Caraxes turned his long neck and his snout just with a feet from you. You froze entirely once more, Daemon still petting Caraxes.

“Dohaeras,” he whispered, almost as if he spoke to a child.

Caraxes’s big nostrils flared, sniffing you a couple of time before chirping. Daemon chuckled, you relaxed for a moment until Caraxes gently used his snout to trip you backwards before once more burying his snout in the sand and deeply exhaling, burying you in a thick sheet of sand. Daemon couldn’t help but break into a fit of laughter

“Daemon!”

You were going to great friends he knew it.

eeee I had so much fun writing this. I totally imagine Caraxes kinda being like jealous Lilly from modern family lol

[chromiumagellanic06]

The Silver Knight: Warrior, Princess, Wife

Daemon Targaryen x Female [Targaryen] OC

"Do they call you Silver Knight for the hair?" but when she shook her head, Daemon added, "I do not pry, Naera. I simply wish—"

"To know me," she finished his words this while, frowning, and added, "but I do not wish the same."

In which, Princess Naera Targaryen, after returning from her time in Essos, is forced to grapple with her arranged marriage to her uncle, and strange visions encircling a Breaker of Chains, some 200 years in the future.

DISCLAIMER: This fic includes incest/targcest, uncle-niece incest, smut, domestic abuse, brutality, violence, blood, some breeding kink, etc.

All image credits go to their respective owners. All rights for the published content for the characters goes to GRRM and company. (Naera Targaryen, the OC is a fan-creation.)

Chapter 01: A Summons

Chapter 02: Civility

Chapter 03: Melisandre

Chapter 04: Kepus

Chapter 05: Khaleesi

Chapter 06: Wisestone

Chapter 07: Daemon

Chapter 08: Three Answers

Chapter 09: A List

Chapter 10: A Wedding

Chapter 11: A Feast

Chapter 12: Perfection

Chapter 13: Brilliant

Chapter 14: Solar

Chapter 15: Dreamer

Chapter 16: From my blood

Chapter 17: Lord of Light

Chapter 18: A Lack of Understanding

Chapter 19: Second Sons

Chapter 20: Letters

Chapter 21: Rhaenyra

Chapter 22: Green

Chapter 23: Visenya

Chapter 24: Confession

Chapter 25: Love

Chapter 26: Returns

Chapter 27: Dragon

Chapter 28: Loss

Chapter 29: Complete

[drakoneve]

The Poisoned Cup

request: Hey, dear! if you are taking requests could i get an angst imagine/oneshot Daemon x Martell fem!reader where she and Daemon are married (they really love each other) and she is pregnant and they are beaming, but reader ends up being poisoned and consequently loses the baby, feeling guilty she ends up running away, but before she leaves a letter for viserys asking for an annulment, before making any decision he talks to Daemon who is furious that she ran away and asks for an annulment + so he goes to Dorne after his wife, she doesn't want to see him at first but he doesn't give up, eventually they talk and reader expresses everything she is feeling just like he does, they cry together and he assures her that everything will be fine and asks her to come back with him, which she agrees to, please? (with a lot of angst, fluffy and happy ending)

pairing: daemon targaryen x y/n martell

word count: 3k (#oops)

warnings: fem bodied!reader, miscarriage, poisoning, reader’s feeling guilty and v depressed

a/n: i apologize if there are any mistakes regarding house martell, i don’t know much abt them. i also didn’t describe much of the reader besides longer hair 

When your older brother Qoren Martell told you he’d arranged a marriage between yourself and Prince Daemon Targaryen with King Viserys, you were unbelievably angry with him that you wouldn’t speak to him for days. But eventually you came to accept that marrying the prince was your duty to keep peace between Dorne and the rest of Westeros following the war in the Stepstones. 

Daemon talked to you before the wedding about how he wanted to wed you in the traditions of Old Valyria, and you agreed even though you were quite hesitant. In the end it was a beautiful ceremony and you felt undoubtedly connected to your new husband.

It wasn’t but three months after your wedding that your lady in waiting, Elaena, pointed out to you that you hadn’t had your monthly bleed. You visited the maester that morning and he confirmed you were indeed with child.

Everything was going smoothly until two months later, when Rhaenyra ended her search for a husband ended and King Viserys announced a marriage between his daughter and Ser Laenor Velaryon, son of Lord Corlys Velaryon of Driftmark. The feast of celebrations had begun and you sat at the end of the royal table in between Daemon and Lord Lyonel Strong, Hand of the King. 

“Everything to your liking, my love?” Daemon asks, then sips on his wine. 

You grin at him, pulling apart the sweet roll in front of you to get to the soft, warm center. “Mhm,” you hum. “We’re quite satisfied, dear husband.”

He reaches his free hand to rub your growing belly. You cover his hand with yours and continue on to dine on the fine food presented before you.

Unbeknownst to you, Ser Gerold Royce approaches the royal table.

“Your Grace, Princess Rhaenyra, congratulations are in order,” Ser Gerold greets the king and princess.

“We are honored to have you as a guest, Ser Gerold,” the king says graciously. “I must say, I was most distressed to hear of the Lady Rhea's tragic passing. I'm very sorry for your loss.” “Lady Rhea was a unique character. Her kind... is not soon to be seen again,” Ser Gerold says before turning to glare at Daemon. “In the Vale, men are made to answer for their crimes. Even Targaryens.”

“If there is anything the crown might do to aid House Royce...” Viserys tries to deflect, but Daemon doesn’t allow the show of disrespect.

“Who are you?” Daemon quips as if he hadn’t paid the man the slightest bit of attention until now. 

“Ser Gerold Royce of Runestone,” he announces proudly with a puff of his chest.

“And?”

“I am cousin to your late lady wife, Rhea Royce.”

Your stomach clenches at the mention of Daemon’s first wife. You not only knew the truth of what happened, but you helped Daemon plan it out with the help of some of your spies in the Vale. They were married at the time Daemon proposed to you, and there was no way you believed Viserys would allow his rebellious brother an annulment or a second wife in the traditions of Old Valyria. The only solution either of you could come up with to open the negotiations for your hand in marriage was to rid Daemon of is bronze wife completely.

Daemon’s lilac eyes harden as he clenches his jaw before eyeing the man. “Ahh, yes,” he says finally. “Terrible thing. I was positively bereft. Such a tragic accident.”

“You know better than anyone, it was no accident,” Ser Gerold spits.

You gasp lightly, placing both hands on your stomach as if you were in shocked by the accusation. Daemon caught on and sat up in his seat, feigning concern on his features.

He turns back to Ser Gerold with fire in his eyes. “Are you confessing some guilt, Ser Gerold?”

“I am making an accusation.”

“You know, in King's Landing,” Daemon all but growls, “men are made to answer for their slanders. Even old bronze cսոts like you.”

Before Ser Gerold has the chance to come up with a rebuttal, chaos breaks out amongst those on the dancefloor. You can’t see exactly who, but a Kingsguard has overpowered someone you cannot see at all, and is pummeling down with a hard right fist. 

Knights from behind the royal table rush forward upon the king’s command, furthering the tension in the room. At this point you’ve risen from your seat and secured a place behind Daemon, who has now drawn Dark Sister from her sheath.

The chaos lasts for a few more minutes but eventually the Kingsguard take control of the room, and the knight who began the fight in the first place was escorted from the throne room. Maids immediately begin working on cleaning the mess (minus the body removed by knights), and party goers resume dancing on the remaining dance floor.

Daemon pulls out your seat out for you and you kiss his cheek before taking your seat. You reach for your wine first before Daemon begins feeding you off his own fork and plate. After a few bites, alternating between the pork your husband was feeding you and the roll you were still tearing apart, a feeling of nausea began to overtake you.

You motion for Daemon to stop, at the same time placing your left hand over your stomach. “Daem, I don’t-“

You don’t even get to finish your sentence before you jump from your chair and turn around just in time to throw up behind the table and not in front of the entirety of the throne room. Daemon is at your side instantly as is Lyonel, and who is already yelling for the maesters. Before you can even really catch your breath, you get sick again.

Muscles in your abdomen tighten as a cramp shoots through you. You cry out in pain and Daemon can’t stand it anymore as he picks you up bridal style out of the throne room and to the privacy of your chambers where the maesters can take care of you properly.

Long after the throne room had emptied and Rhaenyra and Laenor were wed the maesters came looking for Daemon. Despite fighting to stay by your side, Viserys convinced his brother to step away from you and allow maester Orwyle to do his work. 

Orwyle approached Daemon, accompanied by his brother and Lord Lyonel, with his hand laced together in front of him, a grim look upon his face. “Prince Daemon,” the maester begins solemnly. “I come with grave news. I’m afraid your lady wife has lost the babe, my prince.”

The news hits Daemon like a punch to the gut, but he swallows his grief for the moment. “And what of my wife? Is she alive?”

“Yes, my prince. She’s asleep now, I gave her milk of the poppy to ease her pains.”

Lyonel steps forward, “What’s the cause of such illness? The princess seemed fine all evening.”

Maester Orwyle nods grimly, “I believe the princess’s illness to be a direct result of greycap poisoning. How the princess ingested such a thing is yet to be discovered, but I will not stop until I’ve discovered it. Thankfully this is not the first time I’ve encountered such a thing.”

Viserys reached out a grateful hand and squeezed his trusted maester’s shoulder. “Thank you, Orwyle. Your services do not go unnoticed.”

Daemon turns away from the group of men and begins down the hall for your shared chambers.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄���⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ 

Two weeks after the attempted assassination and you finally began to feel healthy again. Daemon hardly left your side during your healing process like he no longer trusted anyone else in the world with your care. Maester Orwyle was still giving regular updates to Viserys which you advised him was unnecessary. 

It wasn’t the poisoning that had been plaguing you the past couple weeks, it was the loss of your unborn babe. This was your first pregnancy, and neither you or Daemon could’ve been happier to receive the official word from the maester. Everything was going well in terms of the pregnancy until the attempt on your life. 

You couldn’t help but spend your time recovering riddled with the guilt of the idea that you could’ve- should’ve done more to protect your baby. Your one job for nine months was to home and protect your baby and you felt you’d failed completely. As a wife, especially to someone of Daemon’s status- the Prince of the Seven Kingdoms, your job was to give your husband as many heirs as possible, and you couldn’t even do that. 

The guilt had been eating away at the strong resolve you’d built over the years of being an outspoken woman in court. You’d failed your husband, your one true love. Now, even weeks later and after everything he’d done to support you, you found it difficult more now than ever to meet Daemon’s eyes. 

When you first learned you were with child you were beyond ecstatic as was Daemon. Despite his previous union, Daemon had yet to become a father and was looking forward to becoming one. You hadn’t any children either and the two of you spoke often of various names for your unborn babe, and began to pick out some of Westeros’s finest silks and fabrics for clothes to be sewn. Now there was no need.

How he didn’t revolt away in disgust, you had no idea. You couldn’t understand why Daemon would stay so loyally by your side when you’d been so unprepared to give him a healthy child. Daemon’s own loyalty did nothing ut remind you just how majorly you’d failed him, and this worked as the straw that finally broke down all the fight you’d had left.

So, you wrote the king a letter.

King Viserys I Targaryen,

I must first apologize to you for the chaos my circumstances has caused the Red Keep as it was never my intentions to cause such disruptions within your court. My brother Qoren stressed the importance of my union with your brother Daemon, and the past year I’ve spent as his wife has been the happiest year of them all. 

So it is with a broken heart, and the purest of intentions, that I graciously ask you to annul my marriage to Daemon so such tragedies do not continue to plague your court. 

I leave for Dorne as soon as I hand off this letter, where I will be awaiting your word in Dorne alongside Qoren. I thank you for the kindness and generosity you have shared with me this past year, your Grace. I wish you good health and fortune.

Sincerely, 

Lady Y/n Targaryen of House Martell.

And true to your word, you along with your lady in waiting Sylva, whom you’d known from before your marriage to Daemon, snuck out of the Red Keep from under the guards’ noses and set out for Dorne. 

Viserys received the letter hours after your departure, just as you’d instructed the maid to do, after Daemon had taken off on Caraxes for Dragonstone on crown business. In the time that he’d known you, the king had never known you to be one to hide away in a dark corner when trials and tribulations came your way. The king knows Martells to live honorably by their words “unbowed, unbroken, unbent,” a sentiment that had been proven when he met you.

Unfortunately for the king, Daemon would not return for another day or so, and therefore would be delayed in receiving the news of your departure for Dorne. Viserys wanted to keep the matter close at hand as he hadn’t wished for yet another set of rumors to go swirling about about Daemon. He feared his brother’s reaction should he have sent a messenger to Dragonstone to inform the rogue prince, so Viserys decided to wait until Daemon’s return to deliver the news himself. 

That’s exactly how Viserys met Daemon two days later in the Dragonpit. Daemon had just barely slid from the saddle strapped to Caraxes when approached by the king.

Before wither man has the chance to utter a word, Viserys extends his hand out to his brother, your letter in hand. “This was delivered to me two days ago, brother. I was hoping to have the matters resolved before your return, but I’m afraid I have been unsuccessful in reaching Y/n.”

Daemon snatches the letter from Viserys’ hand at the mention of your name and he wastes no time in reading it. His first reaction is anger- how dare you leave King’s Landing? How dare you leave him, your husband? The parchment of your letter crumples in his closing fist as Daemon turns away from his brother and back to Caraxes.

“Daemon!” Viserys lurches forward, trying to reason with his temperamental younger brother. “you must proceed with caution, Daemon! Your actions are sure to have dreadful consequences should you not think before you act.”

Daemon whips back around to face the king, shoving him hard once in the chest with both hands. “I do not need you to govern how I act, brother. Much less in the matters involving my wife.” 

With that, Daemon mounted the great blood wyrm and set out for Dorne just as he had the first time.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ 

Qoren wasn’t exactly pleased with you upon your return, moreso afraid of what Daemon might do to Dorne as a result of your abandonment. Though you confidently assured your brother King Viserys would handle the matters, you weren’t entirely convinced yourself.

Daemon was as unpredictable as any man, though twice as dangerous on the back of a fire breathing dragon. Even the time the two of you spent together would not ensure your safety should the wrath of House Targaryen turn its ugly head towards Dorne. 

Despite the circumstances, you were happy to be home. Before your marriage you had never left Dorne before, and you’d missed the familiar comforts of your homeland while you were away. You spent time with your brother and some of his friends, catching up on all the Dornish things you’d missed while you were away.

After the second round of wine began to be poured, a member of the Martell Guard steps forward towards Qoren. “My prince, a dragon has been spotted circling overhead.”

Qoren looks to you first as if telling you to deal with the problem yourself. You sigh and reluctantly stand from your seat. “I shall take care of it,” you announce. 

Daemon has landed outside the gates of Sunspear and already dismounted from Caraxes. The moment the gates opened and he first caught a glimpse of you, he began making his way to you. You met him halfway despite the tightening knots of nausea twisting in your stomach.

Still you don’t meet Daemon’s eyes as he approaches you, afraid of his fury. Daemon is but two steps from you now and he finally plants his feet. “Imagine my dismay,” he begins. “upon returning home to King’s Landing only to be informed my lovely wife had fled back to the sun scorched sands of her homeland after asking my own brother to free her from our marriage. Tell me, wife, did you intentionally wait until I had departed from the Keep to make your escape? Or was it purely circumstance?”

His lilac eyes are furious. Daemon is no doubt holding his tongue to keep from saying something he might truly regret. A part of you wishes he wouldn’t, however. You wish he would let go and take out his anger on you, as you believed you deserved it.

Tears began to well in your eyes as you finally met your husband’s gaze. “I only meant to rid you of your burdens, my prince. A man of such status as you musn’t be burdened by the troubles of a wife who cannot provide..” 

Somehow you don’t have it in yourself to finish your sentence before erupting into uncontrollable sobs. Daemon reaches out for you and pulls you into a tight embrace despite your desperate pleas. He allows you to cry into his chest for a moment before grasping your face in his large hands and forces you to look at him. 

It’s only then you notice his eyes are red and wet with tears as well. “You had nothing to do with the poison, or with the death of our babe, dear wife. Had it been up to us, our dragon would still be in your belly, would it not?”

“Yes,” you cried pitifully, reaching one hand down to caress your stomach where you once felt the growing of your babe. “I want my baby, Daem. I want my baby.” You all but collapsed in your husband’s arms, using his large stature as support.

“I know,” he replies, voice thick with emotion. “and I swear to you, Y/n, that I will not stop until I have Ser Gerold’s head on a spike. Until then, my love, we can always try for another if you so wish.”

You pulled away, sobs ceased for the moment. “Ser Gerold? Of Runestone? What does he have to do with these matters?”

Daemon clenches his jaw before relenting. “I believe, as does Maester Orwyle, Ser Gerold is behind the attempt on your life and the murder of our babe. I planned to make way for Runestone upon my return to the Keep, but I’m afraid I’ve been side tracked.” 

In that moment the guilt that had settled itself in your gut quickly turned to a bright hot rage. “Take me with you,” you demand forcefully. “and we shall show Ser Gerold, and the rest of the realm, just what happens when you scorn the house of dragons.”

A wicked grin spreads across Daemon’s face before he offers you his hand. “Come, dear wife, and we shall show them all.”

You grasped his hand in yours before beginning towards Caraxes, but not before Daemon pulls you to a stop and leans down to bring you into a kiss. Daemon has never been one to kiss you slowly, typically opting for quick kisses in the eyes of others, and more passionate kisses for the bedroom.

But now as the two of you stand wrapped around each other in the Dornish heat, he kisses you softly, slowly. As if he’s trying to tell you he loves you in the only way he knows how. 

When the two of you finally part, you smile up at him. Your first genuinely happy smile in nearly a month. Perhaps Viserys knew just what he was doing in delaying your request for that annulment.

[the-djarin-clan]

GOT and HOTD gave me my ultimate crushes, thank u. 🥵

[xxcocoiiixx]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐉𝐄𝐖𝐄𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐒

𝑊ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑎𝑛 𝑜𝑏𝑠𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝑟𝑖𝑐ℎ 𝑉𝑎𝑙𝑦𝑟𝑖𝑎𝑛 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝐵𝑟𝑎𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑐𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑇𝑎𝑟𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑒𝑛 𝑓𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝑎𝑠 𝑝𝑢𝑛𝑖𝑠ℎ𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑦𝑚𝑏𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑐 𝑏𝑒ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠． 𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑢𝑝𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑎𝑙𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑠𝑢𝑐𝑐𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛（𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑜𝑛 𝑠𝑜𝑖𝑙 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑖𝑔𝑛 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑒𝑟）𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑠ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑢𝑖𝑙𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡’𝑠 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑎𝑚𝑒？𝑂𝑟 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟？

𝑊𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑀𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑒 𝐴𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒 （2006） 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑄𝑢𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑒 （2023）

Stay tuned……

xoxo,

xxCocoiixx

[delusionalwritingsofagay]

ACCEPTING HOUSE OF THE DRAGON AND GAME OF THRONES REQUESTS

Since House of the Dragon/GOT won the poll, I will be posting that first whilst I work on my requests from my hiatus, so I am accepting requests only for HOTD AND GOT at the moment.

Please remember to check my rules for what I do and don't accept.

[lis-likes-fics]

A Song of Ice and Fire Masterlist

Welcome to my Song of Ice and Fire masterlist! Here you’ll find every Song of Ice and Fire fic that I have written. If you want to be added to my taglists, please click here so that you can tag yourself.

The Dragon’s Wife* (dark content)

The Dragon’s Hoard*

Shijetra Nyke, Mandia*

The Kinder Beast*

In the Night Air*

Game of Fox and Bird

Game of Fox and Bird* (2)

[sweetbonniebel]

Jaes's hen jēdar

god's of the sky

Two

Daemon x reader, Rhaenyra x reader, Qoren Martell x reader

Masterlist <-previous , next->

100 AC Dragonstone

Alysanne's youngest and most favored daughter, Gael, died during childbirth with her first child the princess y/n. Gael's death broke the good Queen, for she had outlived all but two of her children. No longer able to bear living at King's Landing and the Red Keep, Alysanne returned to Dragonstone. She died of a wasting illness on that took away most of the joys in her life, her body was cremated, and her ashes were interred on Dragonstone.

Little y/n watched curiously from her grandsire's arms her head tucked in his neck. She saw tears leaving the King's eyes, his expression somber and broken.

"My little princess." Jaehaerys whispered. With no parents of her own, the King became the guarding of his fifth grandchild. The little princess as the King affectionately called her became a crutch for the wise monarch just as her mother has been for Queen Alysanne.

His age prevented him from flying on dragon back as well as most of activities that brought him joy. Jaehaerys ordered that the crib of little y/n be moved to the chambers that once belonged to him and his sister-wife Queen Alysanne.

From then on princess y/n was always with the King. The old monarch played and read to the little child. Due to his condition Jaehaerys was bedridden for most of his days, rarely leaving his chambers. To the surprise of many his granddaughter accompanied him everywhere, to small council meeting, official suppers and many other. From then on the little princess was dubbed Jaehaerys's shadow.

...

101 AC Harenhall

„Mama who is that?” The great-granddaughter of King Jaehaerys princess Rhaenyra asked her mother, curiously watching the six year old girl talk to the king.

„This is your aunt, Rhaenyra.” Aemma whispered gently stroking Rhaenyra’s silver hair. „Her name is y/n. If the King allows it you two will be brought up together.”

„y/n…” Rhaenyra muttered leaning on her mothers shoulder looking intensely at the girl. „Can I show her Syrax?”

„Not today but one day my sweet” Aemma responded smiling at her daughters love for her steed.

„Aemma!” Viserys called searching for his wife. He stopped once he saw his daughter and wife awaiting at his presence.

„I am here my love.” Aemma said rising from the seat, her pregnant belly swollen and heavy. „Rhaenyra go with Daena to your nursery.”

After the death of Queen Alysanne and their two oldest sons Aemon and Baelon, Jaehaerys called upon the great council to decide the matter of succession. Fourteen claims have been brought before the council. Nine lesser claims were quickly discarded.

Archmaester Vaegon the only living son of the old king was passed over due to his vows, and Princess Rhaenys and her daughter Laena were passed over on account of their sex. The assembled lords then focused down on two major candidates: Prince Viserys Targaryen and Rhaenys's son Laenor Velaryon.

Primogeniture favored Laenor, as his mother, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, was the daughter of Prince Aemon Targaryen, who had been the eldest living son of King Jaehaerys. Yet proximity favored Viserys, who, in addition, had been the last Targaryen prince to ride Balerion.

Rhaenys stood proud with her husband Lord Corlys Velaryon and her young children at her side. Viserys along with his pregnant wife rivalled Rhaenys's claim. Despite the fondness the princess held for her cousin she despised him in this moment. She had more of a claim than Viserys but men would sooner put the realm to the torch than crown a woman.

The little girl was seated in her own little throne next to the King, she watching curiously the people before her. The soft giggles of his granddaughter brought Jaehaerys a moment of peace in this troubling moment. He was overly fond of his granddaughter, a sweet and charming babe she was, she reminded him of his first daughter, Daenerys.

In the end, the lords in the realm saw the most importance in having the male line taking precedence over the female line. While the maesters never revealed the actual numbers, it was rumored that Prince Viserys had won by a twenty to one vote.

Begrudgingly Rhaenys's supporters accepted the great council's choice. The realm decided to name Viserys the heir to the Iron Throne and prince of Dragonstone.

...

101 AC Red Keep 

The wise King Jaehaerys threw a great feast in honour of his granddaughters eight name day. No expense was spared, lords from all over the realm gathered in king's landing to attend the celebration.

Little y/n watched curiously from her grandfather's lap. Her little fingers playing with the material of the King's attire.

The king held fondness in his heart for his granddaughter. A happy and lively girl. So much unlike Gael, who cried restlessly. He smiled at the memory of his late daughters.

The six year old clumsily played with her food, she stared at her grandsire and the court before them.

The celebration continued lords and ladies danced, drank and ate their fill. It was almost after the hour of the owl that the guests began to return to their chambers.

"Come little princess, I must show you something."

The old king summoned the commander of the King's guard ser Gyles Morrigen, and ordered a carriage to be prepared at once.

"Your grace it is unwise for you to leave the keep at this time." Ser Gyles said unsure.

"I will hear none of it." The king muttered and the carriage took off towards the dragopit.

The little princess awoke once the carriage stopped at the gates of the dragonpit. She looked around curiously and looked back at her grandsire.

"Zaldrīzes!" The little girl mumbled holding onto the king's clothes. The king nodded and led them to where his steed the bronze fury rested. (Dragons)

"Bring Vermithor." The King ordered the stationed dragon keepers. The bronze fury lazily stepped out of the dragonpit "Issa jorrāelagon raqiros" (my dear friend)

The large beast looked at his rider than at the little girl next to the old King. In turn the girl let go of her grandsire's hand and took confident steps towards the dragon. The King watched curiously, nobody has ever dared to approach his steed with such confidence.

"Mithor!" The girl said, her chubby hands clapped. The bronze fury looked curiously at the little human before him. He laid his large head on the ground next to the baby. "Mithor" The girl repeated, as she was one step away from the beast. With no hesitance, she laid her head on the dragons snout, lightly petting his once shiny scales.

The king looked at the scene before him in awe. The blood of old Valyria was strong in his little princess, a future dragon lord he thought. Just like Aegon the conqueror has been. He watched as his granddaughter talked and petted the bronze fury. His body ached yet he smiled, moments passed in serene silence. But the pain soon became unbearable for the old King.

"Come y/n, we must return." The king said interrupting the bonding of his steed with his grandchild. The girl run up to him obediently, petting Vermithor one last time. The king took little y/n by her hand and returned to the carriage.

"You my grandchild may not have been what was desired but you are no less dear to me." He said to the child "Once I pass your brother will inherit the crown but you my little princess will claim Vermithor. You will make house Targaryen stronger than it has ever been."

...

"Grandsire can you tell me a story?" You pleaded sitting on Jaehaerys's bed, the king smiled.

"What would you wish to hear?" He asked quietly, his voice raspy and hoarse.

"What was grandsire Aegon like?"

"Oh sweet child... I was your age when he died. My father your great grandsire Aenys became King but he wasn't well loved."

"Then your uncle Maegor took the throne after his death." You said quietly.

"Yes, he usurped my elder brother Aegon. But many didn't think that Maegor's accession as treason, they were worried that my brother would be a weak king like our father." Jaehaerys said reminiscing his past "He was King for five years, until his mysterious death."

"Mysterious?" You questioned staring up at your grandsire's face from his lap.

"In the same day as Lord Rogar Baratheon declared me King, Maegor died impaled by the swords of the Iron Throne." The king said "Many believe that the Iron Throne is capable of killing anyone unfit of it."

"Have you ever been cut, grandfather?" You asked curiously.

"I have not, no."

"Was Aegon rejected by the throne?" Your grandsire let out a chuckle and shook his head.

"Aegon built it sweet girl. He was the one that conquered the seven kingdoms."

"Except of Dorne." You added.

"That is true, but we have won four wars against Dorne." Your grandsire noticed you were not convinced "What would you do to bring Dorne under our rule?"

You perked up at his question and thought for a moment.

"War has done nothing to bring Dorne into the seven kingdoms, perhaps a marriage would be more successful." Jaehaerys raised his long silver eyebrows.

"Who would you offer to Dorne?" He questioned curiously.

"Princess Mara has a son Qoren, I would offer an engagement to him as he is the next Prince of Dorne."

"Would you marry him?"

"If it would aid your rule grandfather then yes." You stated confidently.

"Even if you have never met him?"

You nodded cautiously.

"I can get to know him..."

"If you wish I could invite him to court." You smiled and laid down on his lap. "Your great great grandsire would be very proud of you, too smart for your own good."

You smiled up at the wise King as he caressed your hair.

"He was charismatic yet commanding, but many did not know him. His only friend was Orys Baratheon his half-brother. He spoke to my elder brothers Aegon and Viserys and myself of the conquest, of Old Valyria and the Dragonlords before him."

"Like Gaemon the Glorious?" You asked curiously

"Yes sweet girl, in 114 before the conquest he along with his father Aenar and Daenys the dreamer came to Westeros before the doom of old Valyria."

"I wish to know what Valyria was like." You murmured thinking of the ancient civilisation.

"Valyria was filled with Dragonlords, Targaryens were one of the minor houses that populated the peninsula. But through dreams we became the most powerful house in the known world."

As your grandsire told you stories of your ancestors sleep began to take over you.

...

In a month Prince Qoren arrived in the Red Keep, you were giddy to meet the boy. You stood behind your brothers as they welcomed him in the royal courtyard. A blush appeared on your cheeks as you saw the future Prince of Dorne.

"Your highnesses." He bowed his head as he approached you all with his entourage. Rhaenyra giggled as she saw the blush appear on your features.

"Hush." You whispered to her, she snuck out her tongue.

Qoren was not a lot older than you, only five years. Despite being only one and ten he was a handsome boy. Your grandsire to ill to receive his new guest stayed in his chambers, opting for meeting the prince during supper.

"It is a pleasure to be meeting you Prince Qoren." Viserys said, his wife Aemma standing beside him.

"His Grace has invited you to supper this evening." Aemma said leaning on Viserys's shoulder. The boy nodded and smiled.

"A great honour, thank you your highnesses."

You smiled at his charm, you couldn't wait for the supper to begin so you could meet the prince and get to know him.

Daemon however didn't seem too pleased with the Dornishman's presence, he scowled at the prince. You giggled at your brother's obvious resentment towards a boy almost ten years younger. Rhaenyra however was pleased with a new face in court.

"What do you think of him?" Rhaenyra whispered to your ear as Qoren was led away by servants to his new chambers.

"I have not even met him, therefore I cannot say."

"I bet you look forward to meeting him though." She cheekily answered placing her head on your shoulder, you giggled and nodded. Daemon's scowl seemed to grow even bigger.

Quickly hours passed and your maids appeared to dress you. A pale purple dress with wide sleeves and embroidered silver dragons at the side. You smiled gleefully as the maids tied the gown on you. Soon ser Ryam Redwyne knocked on the doors of your chambers to escort you. You smiled seeing the dark haired knight.

"Princess." He bowed his head

"Ser Redwyne." You answered a wide smile on your face "I hope you are doing well."

"With your presence princess I am." The knight answered and led you to the small council chamber where the supper was to take place.

The walk through Maegor's holdfast was quick and quaint, the spare nobles and servants bowed as you walked by them.

You saw that only your grandsire was present, you skipped towards him and placed a kiss on his wrinkled cheek. He smiled seeing you.

"Good morrow y/n" Jaehaerys said placing his bony hand on your silver locks affectionately.

"Where is everyone?" You asked sitting on his left.

"I have asked them to come later." His grace answered and you nodded "I wish to ask you something sweet girl... Do you want to marry?"

You looked a bit dumbfounded at your grandsire.

"One day, as is my duty." You answered

"Your grandmother was the one to arrange marriages for half the realm, I think she would support my intuition... I wish to know what you think of Prince Qoren once the supper is over."

"Certainly." You mumbled your conversation was cut short as the room began to fill. Viserys and his family along with Daemon, the small council along with Rhaenys and her family the last to enter was Prince Qoren himself. He sat next to you as was the King's desire.

"Princess y/n" Qoren said as glanced at you.

"Prince Qoren it is nice to meet you" You mumbled a bit shy. The curly haired boy smiled your way.

"You look very beautiful, princess." He said, a small smile on his lips.

"Thank you, you look very handsome yourself."

Jaehaerys smiled seeing his favourite grandchild happy and laughing. Soon the servants arrived with various dishes ranging from roasted pigs to pies. The cups were full of wine and laughter echoed through the small council chamber.

"Perhaps we could visit the gardens on the morrow?" Qoren asked quietly, you nodded and smiled.

"I would enjoy that very much." You answered, you said your goodbyes with the prince as he returned to your chambers. Feeling a bit tired yourself you decided to retire. The adults drank and laughed.

You laid comfortably in the canopy bed, the cool breeze of spring caressed your covered body. As you were drifting off to sleep you heard shuffling, you glanced around your room the search for the source of the noise.

"Rhaenyra?" You asked as the princess climbed into your bed. "What are you doing here? You should be in your chambers, it is late."

"Do you like him?" Rhaenyra teased and a blush appeared on your cheeks.

"Do I like who?" You answered evading her question. Rhaenyra rolled her eyes. You sighed admitting defeat.

"He is nice." You mumbled playing with your fingers. The silver haired princess smiled at your answer.

"Grandsire will be pleased then." Rhaenyra murmured "He found you a husband without much difficulty."

"I am too young to marry Rhaenyra..!" You whispered angrily.

"But you want to marry him if you do then you will become Princess y/n of Dorne!" She sang jumping on your bed.

"What if I want to marry him?"

"Marriage is boring, boys are boring!" She said her brows furrowed and a scowl appeared on her face. "You should stay with me, we would eat cake and listen to songs and dance!"

"But it won't be that way..." You said sadly "Sooner or later you and I will have to marry and produce children."

"I will never ever have children!" Rhaenyra stated crossing her arms as she sat in front of you. "The babies in mama's belly never come and that makes mama and papa sad."

"If you say so Rhaenyra." You said sadly stroking the realm's delight hair. She leaned into your touch and laid next to you, quickly falling asleep. It soon became a habit that Rhaenyra slept in your chambers instead of her own. You did not mind, at night it was awfully quiet in the Red Keep and you felt alone.

"I envy you..." You whispered when you made sure that the silver haired princess fell asleep.

You awoke early the sun was barely over the horizon, Rhaenyra sprawled herself all over your bed. You sighed and covered the girl with blankets and left her to sleep.

The castle was quiet, not wanting to bother your maids you dressed yourself. A burgundy dress with gold vines embroidered on the corsage, the sleeves reached your elbows but the material continued.

Perhaps after breaking fast with your grandsire, you will walk the garden's with Qoren. It was a pleasant thought, at your door stood ser Clement Crabb.

"Ser Clement." You said "Could you please escort me to my grandsire?" You asked politely at the elder knight.

"Of course, princess." He said and walked ahead through Maegor's holdfast.

"y/n?" Jaehaerys asked from his bed as you entered his chambers, the smell of incense abused your nose.

"Good morrow, grandfather." You said happily and skipped towards the old King. "Ser Clement could you ask for breakfast to be brought?"

The knight nodded and left the chambers.

"You seem happy." Jaehaerys stated, as you helped him sit up in his bed, placing sating pillows behind his back.

"I am excited yes. I am to spend the afternoon with Prince Qoren."

"Ah, yes..." The King nodded and smiled. "What do you think of him? Is he worthy?"

"He is... clever and thoughtful." Your voice was thin "I hope to get to know him better today. But I do enjoy his presence and look forward to the stroll."

"That is good, sweet girl. He should be honoured merely by your presence."

"Grandsire!" You chuckled at his grace's boldness.

"I know it will be some time till you are eligible to marry but I wish to give you the choice of a suitor. Gods know that forcing a Targaryen to marry only brings misery."

"Is that why you married grandmother?"

"Precisely little dragon, our mother tried to marry her off to Orryn Baratheon hearing this she came to me and we fled to Dragonstone and wed." Jaehaerys reminisced about the past, the happiest days of his life were spent on Dragonstone with Alysanne.

The servants arrived with plates of fruits and cheeses, oatmeal and pies. Ser Ryam Redwyne helped your grandsire sit in a chair on the balcony of his chambers. You laughed as you ate occasionally helping his grace.

"Your Grace." The Kingsguard interrupted, you stared curiously at the famed knight. "Prince Qoren is here." Jaehaerys nodded and the Dornish man entered.

"Prince Qoren come." He asked and the prince obliged taking a seat on your left. "My granddaughter is very fond of pomegranates... I assume that they grow abundantly in Dorne."

"Oh yes, your grace. After all Dorne is the main export of exotic fruits." The dark haired prince answered a confident smile on his lips. You caught on, your grandsire was a very smart man.

"Grandsire, I think that the fruits that grow in Dorne are not his biggest interest." You mused cutting a piece of a fruit pie.

"As the future prince of Dorne I must be well aquainted with the land I will rule. That includes the fruit." He jested, the king smiled and chuckled. Your Grandsire quickly tiered himself, you helped him to his bed as the servants took away the plates.

"Please help yourself to the leftovers." You said to the servants, they nodded thankfully and left. "Prince Qoren shall we walk to the gardens?"

"As you wish princess." He responded and took you by the arm and you walked to Rhaenys's gardens escorted by Ser Clement.

"Thank you for sparing me the time of day, your highness." Qoren spoke glancing at you with his brown orbs.

"You do not need to be so modest, my prince."

"It is not everyday I get to be graced with the presence of a princess of the realm." You smiled bashfully at Qoren.

"You are too kind."

"I cannot help it, you are perfection itself." Qoren said

"Should I be like my aunt Viserra and simply agree?" You jested, the dark haired boy chuckled.

"I would not blame you princess."

You strolled comfortably through the gardens of the red keep. The prince proved to be wonderful company, charming and funny.

"Your Highness I know that we are much too young." The prince began taking your hand in his "But I would be honoured if you considered me as a potential husband." A bit appaled and flustered you simply nodded. The prince smiled bashfully and kissed your hand.

A few letters were exchanged between King Jaehaerys and Princess Mara. The fruit of these negotiations became the betrothal of Prince Qoren Martell and Princess y/n Targaryen. If the pair were to conceive a child, Dorne would officially become a part of the seven Kingdoms. Without war or conquest the wise King, the Conciliator managed to complete the work of his grandsire. But it wouldn't happen if it weren't for his beloved grandchild, princess y/n.

Prince Qoren stayed at court for many moons but word has spread that his mother Princess Mara has fallen ill. Worried for his mother he decided to return back to the south. Tears glossed over your eyes as you learnt that Qoren had to leave.

"Do not cry princess." He said as you stared bitterly at the ground.

"I am not crying." You stubbornly said, Qoren laughed at your words.

"I will see you soon, y/n."

"Promise me you'll be back." You whispered taking the boys hand, a small smile appeared on his thin lips.

"I promise." He said and placed a kiss to your cheek, tears dropped from your red orbs as you engulfed Qoren into a hug. "We will marry soon princess and then I will never leave your side."

"Promise it! Promise it on the old Gods and the new." You said strongly into his chest.

"I Prince Qoren of House Martell, future Prince of Dorne promise by the old Gods and the new that we will marry and that I will never leave your side until the stranger comes."

"I Princess y/n of House Targaryen, promise by the old Gods and the new that I will be by your side until the stranger comes." You said your vows after letting Qoren go.

"Goodbye, princess." He whispered and pressed a kiss against your forehead.

You watched as he climbed on his sand steed, salty tears stained your cheeks as you watched him leave.

...

102 AC Red Keep

When the bells rung, maids and guards kept y/n away from her grandsire's chambers.

The king is dead.

Tears flowed from the red orbs of the Targaryen Princess. The halls around her felt suffocating, silence rang in her ears. She stared intently at the doors of her grandsire's chambers.

y/n ran from the stench of death and yet it followed her. The cold feeling of the stranger hot on her tail. Before she knew it, her feet had taken her to the stables. She quickly jumped on a horse that was closest to her. Without a saddle she galloped through the busy streets of King's Landing. Even in the hour of the eel, the laughter of whores and lords echoed through the city.

Tears streamed down y/n's ample cheeks. She saw the dome of the dragonpit. Easily evading the dragon keepers she snuck into the many caves of the structure, easily finding her way to the bronze fury. It was as if she was simply following after a thread. Knowing where he was despite not stepping a foot in the dragon pit before.

"Vermithor?" y/n asked looking around the vast cave littered with bones, a deep grumble made her turn her gaze. The bronze fury rested on the ground, his nostrils expelled smoke. The dragon instantly stared at the girl before him. Without a second though she threw herself at Vermithor's snout petting his horns.

"māzigon, ivestragī īlva sōvegon hēnkirī" y/n pleaded her cheek pressed against his bronze scales. Vermithor roared, one wing moved then the other, his maw opened and closed. y/n looked expectantly at the bronze fury. When the beast lowered his head in her direction she smiled and climbed atop of the old steed of her grandsire. (come, let us fly together)

"Ivestragī's jikagon, Vermithor!" The dragon roared and rised from his position moving expertly among the many corridors of the dragonpit. When the light of the moon reached her eyes she laughed excitedly. Taking Vermithors reins and deepening her seat in the brown and gold saddle. "Sōves, Vermithor!" (Let's go! Fly!)

The beast roared and spread his wings, taking flight. The dragon keepers shouted and exclaimed as they noticed the bronze fury leaving the dragonpit, atop his back the little princess laughed and smiled at the people under her. The dragon took off and y/n screamed with happiness.

Grandsire I have done what you told me. I have claimed Vermithor.

While the bells rung signalising King's Jaehaerys's death the city watched as the bronze fury circled the Red Keep. Golden fire escaping it's maw.

...

The body of the wise and beloved King Jaehaerys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm laid wrapped in cloth at the burning pyre. Vermithor looked on from the hills at the royal funeral. The high Septon said his prayers in honour of the late King. Thousands of nobles and small folk gathered to witness the funereal of the beloved King.

"May he rest with his sister wife Queen Alysanne and their many children. The god's blessed their union and King Jaehaerys's rule. We are surrounded by the fruits of his labour."

y/n looked on with sad eyes at the pyre before her. The body of her beloved grandsire wrapped in cloth. Her gaze travelled from her cousins to her brothers. She examined their saddened expressions. Then she looked at the bronze fury, he too looked sad, his dark eyes focused on the corpse of his former rider.

"y/n, my sweet it is time." The new Queen Aemma whispered to her sister in law. The seven year old looked at the silver haired woman and nodded. The little princess let go of Rhaenyra hand and stepped forward.

"Dracarys"

Vermithor roared and his throat begun to bubble with fire. The dragon breathed at the pyre. The flames delicately caressed y/n cheek, the same way Jaehaerys used to do. Salty tears flowed from the red eyes of the little princess.

The princess y/n Targaryen became the youngest dragon rider in recorded history. On the same night as her grandsire passed she secretly mounted the bronze fury at just eight years of age. This only shows the bond that y/n held with the dragon. -From the dragon bringer by the feather and quill of Grand Maester Roland.

[earenwen-leafwhisper]

Marital life

---- Masterlist ---- Rules for request ---

Pairing: Daemon x chubby Martell reader

Abstract: a headcanon on the marital life of Daemon and Martell reader

Author’s note: Hello, to my dear Martell anon☀️ I hope that this headcanon will please you, I gathered here several ideas that I had in mind and the time of all the writings, it would have taken much too much time, so I propose this as an aperitif, if it is good for you. :)

This is the first time I’ve written a headcanon.

-The first days of your engagement announcement were complicated.

-You were running away from him as much as you could rather spend time with your family.

-Daemon on his side was amused by your behaviour, he could see that you were fleeing from him, not out of fear but out of irritability.

-But as you meet with him, you have come to know the prince.

-He was not the most tender, to the extent of mockery; he liked to see you irritated, and to hear you reply with sarcasm.

-The guards had orders to prevent Daemon from meeting you the night before your wedding, so Dornes has more open opinions about free love. Your father knew exactly what Daemon was like.

-It was only after your marriage that you spent your nights together.

-You thought Daemon would only come to your room once for his duty as a husband.

-But he came every night.

-On your first nights together, you watched him, not finding sleep.

-That’s how you began to caress the burning of Daemon, the fresh one, he have during the war against the tryarchy.

-It sometimes awakened Daemon, but he let you do it, finding himself a form of peace in this form of affection.

-Your meeting with Caraxes surprised Daemon.

-Everyone feared the dragon, but when you met him, you spoke to him.

« So you’ve had to put up with him all this time? How do you do it? »

-Caraxes surprised by the fact that you are not afraid of him and that you speak to him, looked at you, leaning slightly to the head.

-When Daemon asked you how it was that you were not afraid of Caraxes, you answered him that Dorne had never fallen in front of the dragons, and that if you died, Dorne would go to war with the rest of Westeros.

-On the first trip to the desert outside the dragon’s back, Daemon refused to wear light colours and traditional Dorne clothing.

-Ill at ease, his leather and black clothes made him so hot that he had to remove them, the leather sticking to his skin.

-The little time he spent in the sun was enough for him to catch a huge sunburn.

-For several days, the mestres had to fight tooth and nail with Daemon to treat him with ointments who was nauseating, but effective.

-One event that melted Daemon for you, was the day when you went to one of the Sunspear markets.

-There, although you are not obliged, you helped as you could some orphans asking for money or food.

-Seeing you so tender and sweet, made Daemon smile, and not in a taunt but sincere way.

-You agreed not to check in on King’s Landing.

-On the one visit, you responded with more than one sarcastic response to Viserys, defending Alicent/Rhaenyra (choose your favourite, or both).

-What damaged the relations of the two brothers, already the second marriage of Daemon, then still marrying Lady Rhea was frowned upon, but your character was even more so.

-Letters from the city were rare, but you lived well in this.

-You had no use for quarrels over the throne.

-Your day was full of your desires.

-Let it be a day in Dorne, in the gardens of the Old Palace.

-Or a trip on the back of Caraxes to Essos.

-The war between the Greens and the blacks did not even touch you.

-You were simply watching, in Dorne’s safety, the rest of Westeros go on fire.

[msmorningstaarr]

My works are abandoned temporarily, but in my masterlist you’ll find:

A Song of Ice and Fire/Game of Thrones characters (long series, short fics, self insert);

Fire and Blood/House of The Dragon characters (self inserts)

Holy and Heathen series (ao3)

Pairings: Oberyn Martell x F!Original Hightower Character (Melara Hightower); Minor Elia Martell x Oberyn Martell; Elia Martell x Rhaegar Targaryen

Warnings: implied siblings incest; emotional incest; childhood trauma; religious guilt; sex; oberyn is 20; doran doesn't exist in this au; oberyn is a good daddy but a bad husband; OC is not a reliable character, take a spoon of salt when you read her POV; no rebellion AU; tags may change about the rebellion tho; melara may be unlikeable

Status: in progress

Chapter 1 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 11

Chapter 2 | Chapter 7

Chapter 3 | Chapter 8

Chapter 4 | Chapter 9

Chapter 5 | Chapter 10

The Night We Met one shot (ao3)

Pairings: Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand; Ellaria Sand x Loreza Sand

Word count: 1.5K

Warnings: coping with grief, angst, fluff, falling instantly in love, mentions to elia’s death

Status: published

Self-Insert One Shots

Let me fill you up. (ao3) - Female Targaryen Reader x Jaime Lannister

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI (18+) rhaegar wins AU, no targcest, smuff, fluff, breeding kink, praising kink, a lot of pet names (sweet girl, princess, love), reader has no physical description besides the silvery white targaryen hair, creampie, oral (f receiving), a very devoted husband commited to your pleasure, smut, sex;

To tame a dragon. (ao3)- Female Brat Tamer Reader x Rhaenyra Targaryen

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI (18+) established relationship, queen rhaenyra targaryen, sub/dom dynamics(reader dom rhaenyra sub), oral sex (f receiving), overstimulation, mentions of voyeur, some gender dysphoria on reader’s part(?), reader is really engaged in pleasing rhaenyra, no age gap, reader has no physical description, , rough sex, team black won AU, please tell me if there’s any tag left!

Let me be yours (ao3) - Rhaenyra Targaryen x Female Martell Reader

part I | part II

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI (18+), afab reader, bisexual rhaenyra, canon divergence, longing, age gap (you early 20s rhae mid 30s), fingering, masturbation, oral sex, sub/dom dynamics (rhae dom you sub), overstimulation, scissoring, queen rhaenyra targaryen, nipple play, possessive rhaenyra

Status: finished

[themotherofblood]

Prologue . 1 | RIVER OF FIRE | THE LADY | D.T x R.T x READER

series masterlist | main masterlist

~ where ever you stray, I’d follow. Begging for you to take my hand ~

“Rhaenyra? Rhaenyra… she is the gust of spring air after a bitter winter. She is a child’s first laughter. She is my knight. Our days spent climbing trees and visiting Aemma. Rhaenyra insisted that Syrax is finally large enough to saddle two but I refused her, what if I fell? I am a little too young and too pretty to die just yet. But too Rhaenyra, she is my happiness and I her lady.”

The summer of one hundred and ten years after Aegon's Conquest, you'd remembered the days to be so vibrant. That was your fifth year at Kings Landing, and the second year since the fourteenth day of the fifth moon since you had realized you held passions for Rhaenyra Targaryen.

There was a true sense of sisterhood between Laena, Alicent, Rhaenyra and you. The little ladies that ran the Red Keep a muck, the hordes of giggles and dozens of fabrics that followed everywhere you went. Alicent and Rhaenyra, the older girls of four and ten, Laena and you were two and ten finding yourself in a closer bind of sisterhood, that and your shared love for exotic fauna.

Your fingers had been deep in dirt, planting away yet another exotic seed that Lord Corlys procured for you and Laena, they never understood how you managed to grow them but you did. They thrived in the summer months, while your hands mindlessly packed soil, and your eyes remained on Rhaenyra as she rested her head in Alicent's lap. You couldn't quite decipher the stinging burn in your chest as you watched Alicent twirl Rhae's silver locks in her fingers.

Laena was a silently observant person, she looked between your eye line before dragging you to lay in between the blossomed flower beds. "I wrote for my brother yesterday, demands of sweets and sieges of poetry were demanded of," you told Laena, truly trying to distract yourself. Laena giggled as she shook her head. The softness of her voice echoed with chirps of hummingbirds, the sun crisp against her skin just as it shimmered against yours.

"Silk and gold threads from Lys, and more shells. Father promised me more." Laena continued as she toyed with her sea blue sleeves. "And thanked him on your behalf for the seeds."

Even as you remained deep in conversation with your companion, your eyes held an envious gaze toward Alicent; you hated feeling this way. She was your friend too, you were all friends with each other and yet this unfamiliar feeling gnawed at your insides for over a year. You giggled and chuckled along at all the court gossip of the older ladies being wed and betrothed to the knights of their dreams.

"Lady Laena," Daemon called out from behind you as you shot up to look at him. This man intimidated you to your core and yet provided you with the wisest of wisdom. "Your mother calls for you," he gestured at Laena. She wished you farewell before running off, you shuffled up awkwardly, unaware of what to do, so you turned your eyes to Rhaenyra and she was still too engrossed with Alicent. Your envious gaze bore holes into the brunette girl; you were meant to be friends but you simply couldn't help yourself.

"You ought to look harder, you might envision an arrow in her head." Daemon mused at your glare, you scowled at him and got up. Shrugging your skirts free of dirt and grass.

"You may jest at court all you like, leave me out of it my prince," you looked up at him with a scowl, lip jutted out as your returned to watching Rhaenyra enviously.

"Ah- I humbly apologise princess," he bit his lip from chuckling further at your frustrations, he held your upper arm to stop you from running away.

"How about you join me for a walk? The day is far too beautiful to be wasted," he offered, extending his arm out of you to take. You looked once more to Rhaenyra lounging with Alicent and then you agreed. You didn't want to be alone at that moment. You walked with him in the royal gardens, nobody questioned anything. He was a frequent visitor to his brother's daughter and you. You had found a quiet corner to lay flat on the grass again as Daemon nursed on a flask of...wine.

He offered you some, which you immediately spit out over the bitter taste making him laugh even louder. "Blegh...," you shivered the taste away "what is that?"

The corners of Daemon's eyes crinkled, "moonshine," he shrugged taking two swigs before putting the flash away.

"It's disgusting, death," you coughed getting the burn away from your throat.

"How is your, city watching going," you began an awkward conversation, fully aware that he was about to question you about your sour behaviour today.

"The heathens of King's Landing ought to fear the colour gold from now on," he stated, looking to the skies. There was an odd moment of silence before he spoke up again. "Perhaps Viserys would send out less of an army every time you princesses visited."

"What were the daggers for? Alicent stole your pretty doll or something," he quirked his brow at you, in truth he was concerned that you might have pounced onto Otto Hightower's spawn, having a history of brawling with young lasses at court who dared to test your patience; he hoped you'd fess up. You shook your head to disagree.

"She would never steal my dolls, she has plenty of her own," you stated, ripping at the grass next to you. Pulling them through one by one as a frown pulled over your forehead once more. The image unwavering within your mind, Alicent asking- no, demanding Nyra's attention from dawn to dusk. Yet today they wore matching coloured gown, Nyra wore matching gowns with you, not Alicent. The portrait a bitter taste in your mouth, how do you explain that to a prince notorious for being wild, unchained.

"So you admit, scary little Dornish princess does play with dolls," he teased, referring to the rude remarks that never seemed to stop at court about you.

"What did you expect? That I play with human skulls?" you scoffed, pouting and looking even more upset. The balls of grad that filled your small fists, you lurched at Daemon and then finally caved. "Rhaenyra seems to enjoy Alicent's company more than mine."

"Well," Daemon began, the thoughts swirling in his head projecting across his face "they are friends, and so are you...?" He pushed along, clearly another motive lingering at his tongue.

"Yes we are- we are just friends," you hesitated to elaborate further, afraid you wouldn't find the weight words to profess what you felt.

"Not very ladylike to lie is it, princess?" He cock his brow up, accusing you to weasel your confession out of you.

"We are more than friends I think, more than sisters." You confessed, tethering yourself to the edge of the truth.

"Ah," Daemon let out a knowing sigh "Young love."

"It's wrong," you hissed "It is love, however." you tutted, shaking your head for having these thought, your mind yet agains filling with the image of curt Septa Marlow with a cane in her hand. Death, that's what such thought entail by the Seven.

"Would you be happier if you told her, having a partner is a blessing," he smiled, honestly happy about what you felt for his niece, there wasn't a moment where Daemon wished not to thrive within the mess that was his family, but something so pure and confused sat by his feet. Finding remorse in his heart for both girl, perhaps they would taste the choice he never got should Daemon be King someday as his brother's heir.

"You have a partner, are you happy?" clearly toying with his disdained marriage, he scowled at you. "You spend the better part of the year with us and the rest with your paramour."

"Where have you heard of my paramour?" Daemon let out a questioning scoff, pondering on where might the little princesses had managed to hear of his whore mongering habits.

"Lord Hand may have mentioned something at supper," you shrugged, "The Mother better not provide me with a husband like you, I might lose my mind."

"You are two and ten, what do you know of love." He japed throwing the grass you threw at him back.

"More than you, the writers are better at professing love than you my prince. Perhaps I could lend you a book." You teased back.

"Perhaps you could," He chortled, leaning back against the tea bark.

"You should bring Lady Rhea a cat, perhaps a white one." You offered, genuine advice, everyone loved cats; apart from Queen Aemma, they made her sneeze like a mad woman. "She'd be more agreeable."

Damon laughed, "She may actually poison the poor thing."

You never understood why Daemon was so open to half the things you and Rhaenyra hurled at him. Young ladies often confessed to their septas but you were sure she would have painted your palms red with a cane if you confessed that you loved a girl. The more your head toiled with those immoral questions, you grew silent once more.

"Apart from your lady wife; had you ever found love?" You asked him out of sheer curiosity.

"You are far too young to worry about such things little princess." He said while shaking his head, his eyes soft as he tried to find a solution to your juvenile problems. "Perhaps if you do want to confess your love, you ought to kiss her."

You shot up straight, looking at him confused "What if do and then I'm with a babe- I don't want a babe; I'd be ruined!" You hissed

Daemon slapped his palm on his forehead "Who has told you of such falsehoods?"

"Septa Marlow did." Your mind began wondering, what would Rhaenyra's babes look like...

"Demented hag," He muttered under his breath "I can assure you, princess, one does not come with a child from a kiss; if that were so. King's Landing would be swarming with my bastards."

"Oh- so I can kiss her?" You blushed, and a new hope flared in your chest.

"Yes, as much as you like." He smiled at your excitement.

"Your grace," A servant girl bowed as she entered the gardens "Dinner has been served in his grace's solar."

Daemon escorted you to his brother's solar, Viserys was already in his seat with Aemma. Just as their family poured into his solar, Aemma's face lit up. You moved around the table, bowing to Viserys before pressing a kiss on Aemma's cheek before sitting down next to her. Her mothering began the second she saw you, tutting at stray pieces of grass tangled in your hair.

"How are feeling today, your grace." You questioned about her condition, yet another pregnancy that she announced four moons before and since then her face began paling, she couldn't join you in the Godswood to help you garden your plants.

"Better, the babe should begin kicking soon enough." She said as she rubbed her belly.

"The boy shall add another to your army I reckon," Viserys japed, letting out a fatherly chuckle along with Daemon.

The doors creaked open when Rhaenyra finally arrived, she too pressed a kiss to her mother and then her father's cheek before sitting herself across from you. "Forgive me, I was carried away with Alicent."

You wanted to scream at the back of your mouth, you didn't want to feel this way. Alicent was your friend, you were a good girl and not a bully. You were being cruel to her in your head but you couldn't stand how much time Alicent was taking away from Rhaenyra. Taking her to the fool's shows and bird watching, she even took Rhaenyra to the Sept. Rhaenyra does not pray, let alone believe in the seven!

You toyed with your food for a while, pushing peas back and forth with your fork, to which Viserys took note "You ought to eat child." He voiced his concerns about making your fork stop its scraping.

"Forgive me, your grace, I'm not very hungry." You shrugged "May I please be excused?"

Viserys looked around the table and sighed, nodding. You said your farewells and sprinted to your room. You breathed out deep stress-infused sighs, grumbling under your breath as you cuddled a pillow on your window bed.

Stupid...stupid girl for thinking she would feel the same way for you, other than a sister.

What if she felt that way for Alicent? Mayhaps that's the reason she began to pull away from you...

It was sinful in so many ways, pillow biters. That's what the older ladies sniggered about in the halls. Were you a pillow bitter? Could girls even be pillow bitters? You tried to concentrate on the book you decided to finish and yet your mind just wouldn't seize its endless blathering.

Your door opened after a series of knocks, in walked Queen Aemma with two servant girls, hauling along a tray of fruits and a glass of milk. "It isn't wise to go to bed on an empty stomach, it will ache tomorrow." She patted your hair, choosing to sit opposite you. "Finish the whole thing."

You whined at the cup of milk, you didn't exactly hate the beverage but gods did it taste absurd some days. She gave you a comforting push, smiling as you tried to consume the cup in one go; perhaps that way your tongue wouldn't linger in its flavour afterwards. You sighed, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

"Good girl," She said, looking out the glaring moon that graced your window "Now tell me what disturbs you? Is it your home again?"

If only it were that simple, you stopped crying about your home more than three years ago, your father abandoned you and your brother was the sole reason your blood still stained its Dornish colours. You meekly shook your head, hoping she would leave the subject at that.

"If it's people at court sweetling, if they malign you in any way. You must tell me." She gently held your jaw, lowering her face to make you meet her glistening eyes.

"Yes, your grace."

"Alright then," She leaned forward to press a kiss to your forehead, before letting you reciprocate with one on her cheek "Do not stay awake for too long."

You remembered your conversation with Daemon, more so how he always seemed to acquire what he wanted by the sheer strength of his will. The sheer strength of your will, that's what you need. Just a little bit of bravery, for what is the worst that could happen. They have your gelded for making an impasse at the only crown princess of the Targaryen dynasty.

You padded your feet over next door, greeting Ser Westerling who was stationed outside your and Rhaenyra's apartments for tonight. Her room was empty, though prepared for her slumber as fresh incense burned off her receiving table, linens just moved around to sleep in. You shuffled yourself onto her bed. Sitting on your knees at the centre.

"Rhaenyra I love you, in a not sisterly way..."

"I speak from the depth of my heart, I profess my devotion to you sweet princess... no...no that is far too melodramatic."

You began speaking to yourself in your head, insanity, pure insanity. You were sure if you thought too hard; you'd lose yourself in your own mind full of cats, dragons and knights and ten versions of Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra's chamber doors finally opened, she shuffled in; pulling at her earrings as she kicked her slippers away before pulling a sack from her pockets to place on her dresser. Humming a little song under her breath before her eyes fell on you sitting in her bed, she squealed. Placing a palm on her chest, clearly shuddered in shock.

"Seven- what are you doing here?" She questioned, eyes wide as she pushed the little sack away further.

"You didn't come to hug me before bed- so I thought I would visit you." You shrugged awkwardly

"I- I was with Alicent, lost track of time." She said as she stretched the back of her neck.

"Oh-"

Don't say it

Don't say it- you fought your tongue with all your might

"Princess, do you not wish to be my friend anymore?" You said sounding insecure and solemn.

Rhaenyra looked taken aback "What makes you say that."

"You spend all your time with Alicent, going to the markets, the Sept and spend your evenings in her solar... it's just she is your friend too but I rarely see you anymore." You mumbled your words out in one giant sentence.

"I- you silly duck." She curled her lips in her mouth to stifle a growing smile. "We were making preparations for your name day." She confessed, looking amused at your pouted face.

"So...you do want to be my friend." You questioned again to be clear.

"Why would I not." she exclaimed throwing herself onto her bed "You shall always be my dearest companion." She pulled you down into a hug.

Tell her

Tell her

Daemon's voice taunted you.

"Can I kiss you?" You blurted out, your palms began to sweat

Please do not me have gelded

Or beheaded

Rhaenyra looked at you quizzically before turning her head to offer you her cheek. That too in definition was a kiss but that wasn't what you meant. You fumbled with your fingers as your brain racked up ways to confess your passions for your dearest princess

"I meant- have you ever noticed how Viserys always goes straight to Aemma whenever she visits him, the first he does is kisses her." You said trying not to fumble over your words "Well, whenever you visit my stomach flutters in butterflies and all I want to do is kiss you."

Rhaenyra tilts her head, looking confused yet almost grasping at what you meant.

"I love you," You confessed

"So do I." She replied innocent words shared many times over between the two of you.

"No- I love you like a knight would his lady." You elaborate, again fear flaring in your chest.

Please do not have me exiled

"Like a knight loves his lady...?" She repeated, thoughts flooding behind her purple eyes "So are you the knight or the lady."

"I- what?" Her reply confused you, was she happy; was she mad? You couldn't quite place an emotion on her face "Uh- the lady."

"Then I love you like a knight too," She replied smiling ear to ear.

"Wait you do?" You were sure the smile that spread on your face made you look like a drunken fool but you had not a care in the known.

She nodded eagerly "Do we kiss now?"

"I believe so," You agreed, heat rushing to your cheek as your pursed your lips towards her, her soft lips pressed against yours as she graced you with a chaste kiss.

The two of you broke apart in a fit of giggles, Rhaenyra blushed red as you fanned at your warm face.

"That was very nice," she said awestruck, before pulling you closer for another.

"My knight," you whispered against her lips.

next chapter

[asoiafsworld]

STAR'S MASTERLIST !

star's rules & disclaimers for requesting.

🍷 (romantic love), 🩰 (platonic love)

🍡 (fluff), ☁️ (angst), 🍒 (smut)

↳ HOUSE OF THE DRAGON

⇝ rhaenyra targaryen

first; headcanon; falling in love and marrying rhaenyra and daemon. (☁️) (🍒) (🍷)

second; headcanon; being married to rhaenyra and daemon and being a mother to their children. (🍡) (🩰)

third; headcanon; being pregnant with rhaenyra and daemon's child. (🍡) (🍒) (🍷)

fourth; headcanon; having rhaenyra's and daemon's children. (🍡) (🍒) (🍷)

fifth; headcanon; your life with rhaenyra and daemon and your children. (☁️) (🍡) (🍷)

⇝ daemon targaryen

first; headcanon; falling in love and marrying rhaenyra and daemon. (☁️) (🍒) (🍷)

second; headcanon; being married to rhaenyra and daemon and being a mother to their children. (🍡) (🩰)

third; headcanon; being pregnant with rhaenyra and daemon's child. (🍡) (🍒) (🍷)

fourth; headcanon; having rhaenyra's and daemon's children. (🍡) (🍒) (🍷)

fifth; headcanon; your life with rhaenyra and daemon and your children. (☁️) (🍡) (🍷)

⇝ aemond targaryen

imagine; the turning point. (☁️) (🍒) (🍷)

imagine; the sun also rises. (🍡) (🍒) (🍷)

imagine; stand by me. (☁️) (🍷) (🩰)

headcanon; alpha aemond courting and marrying omega reader. (🍡) (🍒) (🍷)

⇝ aegon targaryen

you drew stars around my scars (but now i'm bleeding) (🍡) (☁️) (🍷) (🩰)

first

⇝ jacaerys velaryon

nothing yet.

⇝ alicent hightower

nothing yet.

↳ GAME OF THRONES

⇝ daenerys targaryen

nothing yet.

⇝ robb stark

nothing yet.

⇝ jon snow

nothing yet.

⇝ sansa stark

nothing yet.

⇝ margaery tyrell

nothing yet.

⇝ oberyn martell

nothing yet.

↳ THE LAST OF US

⇝ ellie williams

belong to you; first, second

drabble; consensual non consent.

drabble: cnc, face sitting.

headcanon; dating alpha ellie.

⇝ abby anderson



drabble; making you squirt.

drabble; g!p abby, breeding kink.