#daemyra crack

[welldonebeca]

Please don’t be sad -hug- Daemyra; He gets a minor injury that Rhae gives him milk of the poppy for and he’s basically high and telling her how beautiful she is, and also hitting on her, is she married? Lol Rhae nursing her hilarious HUSBAND! This beautiful lady taking care of him. Telling him how wonderful her husband is and he’s sad because she’s taken. I hope you feel better ❤️‍🩹 ♥️

Thank you <3. I guess it's just a bad week. Or a vitamin D deficiency.. .

I hope you like this!

. . .

“Bite down, your grace,” Gerardys instructed, placing the strap of leather in his mouth, and her husband clenched his teeth around it.

Daemon was teaching Joffrey to ride, Tyraxes, but their boy was having a bit of a hard time with his saddle and they had a little accident. Joff was perfectly fine, but Daemon had dislocated his shoulder when he stopped him from fully falling down.

He let out a mere grunt when the Maester put his shoulder into place, never one to show his pain as Rhaenyra held his hand, watching quietly.

Gerardys stepped back and removed the leather.

“Refrain from moving it for the night,” he instructed them. “The milk of the poppy will numb the pain soon.”

“Can we immobilise it?” she asked, leaning away from her husband.

Daemon closed his eyes, resting on the wood behind their bed,

He nodded simply.

“I’ll fetch the fabric.”

Gerardys left the room, and she returned to look at him, but he seemed to have fallen asleep.

She shook her head, caressing his cheek.

Milk of the poppy did it to him, sometimes, her poor husband.

She pulled him by his good hand when the Maester came back, and he nuzzled onto her neck as Gerardys wrapped the fabric to keep his shoulder in place.

“Smell good,” he mumbled into her skin, inhaling deeply. She she felt his good arm coming to wrap around her. “Sweet perfume.”

She chuckled, petting his hair, indulging his playfulness.

Yes, he did love her smell.

“Your grace,” Lady Elinda walked inside, curtsying quickly. “You summoned me?”

She smiled at her lady-in-waiting.

“His Grace and I will have our meal in our chamber tonight,” she informed her. “Can you inform the servants for me? And the children?”

Elinda confirmed with a quick nod and curtsied, leaving the room, and soon the Maester followed suit, leaving them on their own.

Rhaenyra undressed Daemon quietly as he snored into their pillows and put on his sleeping gown, careful so as to not hurt him.

“Who are you?” he mumbled when she slipped his good arm into a sleeve.

The question made Rhaenyra chuckle. Maybe they had given him a little more milk than he needed.

“Me?”

Daemon freed himself from her grasp.

“Did they send a pretty maiden to nurse me?” he asked, looking adorably intoxicated.

She couldn't help herself. So this was how he flirted before?

"I'm no maiden, my love," she teased, her nimble fingers working on the gown's ties to allow him some movement. "You, of all people, should know that."

He set his eyes on her, trying to move his healing shoulder, but she stopped him.

“You mustn’t move it,” she reminded him. “The Maester said so.”

Daemon whined like one of their children when they had to take their medicine.

"A Maester?" he grumbled, flopping onto their pillows. "Did they send me you, my lady?"

Rhaenyra shook her head, her amusement growing.

"I came here all on my own," she assured him. "I'm always the one to nurse my husband."

Daemon’s reaction was priceless as he outrightly whined.

"Husband?" he exclaimed in mock annoyance. "You have a husband?"

She tried not to laugh.

“I do,” Rhaenyra confirmed with a sly grin, adjusting his covers. "And he's quite a wonderful man.”

Daemon, still somewhat loopy by the milk, fumbled with his covers, attempting to escape them in his haze.

"I must..." he squirmed, his words trailing off into incoherence.

She tried to hold him or help him – whichever stopped him from trying to get up and hurt his shoulder more.

"Daemon!" she exclaimed, laughing, and held him firmly by the hand.

He kicked his feet while sitting on the bed, determination etched on his face.

"What are you doing?"

"I'll find him!" he declared with fervour. "I must fight him. I must make you my wife."

She couldn't help but burst into a fit of giggles, gently tugging him back.

"Come on, my love," she cajoled, guiding him to sit on the bed. "You don't need to fight anyone."

Daemon halted, his confusion making him look even more adorable.

"Why?"

Rhaenyra chuckled, shaking her head, both hands clasping his.

“Because you are my husband,” she reminded him. “I’m married to you.”

Daemon stepped at her, eyes all glassy, and his lips curled in a surprised smirk.

"I am?" he asked with wide-eyed wonder. "I'm your husband?"

She giggled again, gently easing him back down to the bed.

"Yes, you are," she reassured him, touching his cheek affectionately. "You are my husband, and I'm your wife."

Daemon slumped back onto the bed, looking blissful, and reached for her hand, trying to pull her closer, and she let herself get closer to him.

"You're my beautiful wife," he celebrated, nestling his head on her neck, sounding delighted.

She shook her head, patting his back.

“I am,” she assured him.

[alicentsaegon]

Can I just say that had Nettles been canonically a pretty white woman no one, absolutely no one would question her and Daemon's relationship as anything other than romantic/sexual. There would be no theories on her being his bastard, there would be no erasing her character and what she represents to the story just to hype up their blood supremacist ship and make it look as healthy as possible or make it look as this grand love story (Daemon and Rhaenyra are are best when they are at their worst <3) just saying. When Nettles left and upon her departure Caraxes roared so loudly he broke all the windows of the castle. Almost as if dragons and riders have a soul bond and that scene was specifically meant to reflect how Daemon felt as if his soul was crying out for her. Hmmmmmm. Also idk guys do many men take baths with their daughters? Even Targaryen men?

[oosleepyfaeoo]

HOTD characters reacting to y/n saying that they are gay

Alicent...honey... You are completely gay for Nyra so stop lying.

[fanfictionroxs]

Just thinking about Jace having MAJOR daddy issues plus being like the most eldest daughter in all of westeros.. this poor kid. He mostly doesn't care about people thinking him a bastard, but bring up the word 'strong' or mention Harwin and he loses it faster than granny Vhagar. The things having 3 fathers (and still somehow feeling like the eldest daughter of a single mom looking after her siblings) will do to a boy.

[mercyandmagic]

Chapters: 1/13 Fandom: House of the Dragon (TV), A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Alys Rivers of House Strong/Aemond "One-Eye" Targaryen, Daemon Targaryen/Rhaenyra Targaryen, Sara Snow/Jacaerys Velaryon, Aegon II Targaryen/Helaena Targaryen, Netty | Nettles/Helaena Targaryen, Baela Targaryen/Daeron Targaryen (Son of Viserys I), Aegon II Targaryen & Aemond "One-Eye" Targaryen Characters: Aemond "One-Eye" Targaryen, Alys Rivers of House Strong, Daemon Targaryen, Rhaenyra Targaryen, Alicent Hightower, Aegon II Targaryen, Helaena Targaryen, Daeron Targaryen (Son of Viserys I), Baela Targaryen, Rhaena Targaryen (Daughter of Daemon), Jacaerys Velaryon, Lucerys Velaryon (Son of Rhaenyra), Joffrey Velaryon, Cregan Stark, Sara Snow, Netty | Nettles (A Song of Ice and Fire), Otto Hightower, Criston Cole, Larys Strong Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, except viserys i guess, fire & blood gets a mean girls makeover, Alysmond, Daemyra, no dragons were harmed in the making of this AU, plus plenty of crack ships, Crack and Angst, Team Black but seven hells do I love the Greens too, this fic will bash no one but otto and maybe criston Summary:

Westeros Academy is one of the most prestigious schools in the country (and, as their brochure will remind you, the only one with dragons). But when their president dies, the school board is engulfed in turmoil as Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen battle Alicent Hightower for control. Nor are the students any calmer: the war for prom king and queen is fast approaching, with Jace and Baela pitted against front-runners Aegon and Helaena. Meanwhile, Aemond’s own plot for the crown is thrown into disarray when he encounters the enigmatic outcast Alys Rivers.

[emynarnen]

Daemyra Appreciation Week - Day 6: AU/Canon Divergence

If Westeros Had Instagram AU

[asoiafzambi]

Taking King's Landing

Daemon: "So what, we are just going to march in there and be like 'bye bitches, it's our throne now?'"

Rhaenyra: "My throne."

Daemon: "Boring."

Rhaenyra 🙄: "Of course not as exciting as your brillant plan of torching my own castle with the dragons, chopping Alicent's head off and raping Otto on top of her corpse."

Daemon: ...

Rhaenyra: ...

Daemon: "I think you got something mixed up here."

Rhaenyra: "Did I?"

[wulfhalls]

re: TROP - it's kind of magical to be able to vicariously get some sort of appreciation for a show that actually bored me so much i didn't get to the end of the first season. i was watching it along with s1 of HOTD and nothing matched the mattmilly chemistry, so i could not give a damn about anything else.

but this is letting me find something to enjoy in retrospect about TROP through you (still not gonna watch it tho)

thank u queen <3

probably would have felt the same way if I'd watched it back then so maybe it's good I've waited that long to finally get into it lol (although not about finding it boring idk why this show got such vast amounts of backlash like im genuinely having a good time lol)

[christinapotter09]

‘I won’t be a tyrant.’

Ash and bone her House had become. Her boys, all her boys, eaten, dead, burnt or lost. She held onto the bannister as the tears fell hot against her cheeks, her breath shaky through her nostrils.

Aegon was in his cell, Sunfire destroyed by Caraxes and Syrax. Alicent was down there as well, bitter as venom, green with madness. Otto Hightower rested in Caraxes’ belly, in pieces.

Only Aemond Targaryen had gone missing during the siege of the Capital.

Just like her last child, her most precious and spoiled one, her only daughter.

Visenya

[laenyrasdarling]

Hiii! Can i ask for an Haelena/ fem! Targaryen reader headcanons? No nsfw but romantic. Reader is the daughter of Rhea Royce and Daemon

.ೃ࿐helaena targaryen x fem!targaryen/royce!reader 

✦ some notes on the setting; pre-dance, with helaegon and the twins (+ aegon’s debauchery) still present, daemyra being alluded to whilst he’s married (frostily) to rhea and she to laenor, vizzy t’s in a somewhat fortunate state of health, i am here for helaena her only and the worldbuilding Shall reflect it

ׂׂૢ having spent much all of your formative years residing in the grassy hills and wild thatches of runestone with your mother and her family, your varyingly absent father’s request to depart to king’s landing not long after your coming of eight and ten felt like something not very far between a dare and a terror. 

ׂׂૢ as abbarantly furious as this suggestion had initially made your dear mother and grandsire, over the course of some weeks your gentle insinuations that some winters in the red-roofed capital may be of benefit to a silver-haired, violet-eyed lady such as yourself before she returned to her homeland to continue her path ontoward ruling runestone in her mother’s footsteps, you successfully found enough cracks in your doting family’s bronzed armour to see them abate. 

ׂׂૢ so armed with enough belongings to last you from late spring to the following summer and the strongly pressed guidance from your grandsire that this temporary dalliance was only so you’d return equipped with better skills and knowledge with which to one day rule over your true homeland, you set sail for king’s landing. knowing all at once that you were only permitted to embark on this journey for varying ploys that were not yours - your grandsire’s to see you evolve to a competent ruler, your father’s to better his standings in your all but estranged uncle viserys’ eyes - you tried to not let these meddling hands of fate dissuade you from also using this time for your own endeavours.

ׂׂૢ and none so prevalent was that mission made to you than when you first laid eyes on the princess helaena upon your arrival to the red keep.

ׂׂૢ this was around the time you first found yourself thankful for your father’s meddling, as his suggesting in his letter that you make yourself of use to your hosts and aid the lady helaena in her childrearing and courtly duties meant that you arrived pre-prepared with a reason to find yourself in her company so often. as frostily as things began, with you nervously hovering around the edge of the room as the twins played and she sewed stiffly, with suppertimes just as cold with the added intrusions of her fool husband and snide-tongued younger brother, summer had barely begun to depart on your first year when things began brightening.

ׂׂૢ your transition from outcast to dearly-held began in benign ways - jaehaera growing familiar with your shadow-still presence in the family’s quarters and growing bold enough to beckon you forth with a chubby-fisted hand, that held aloft a dragon figurine for you to join her in play with. then came your wine-fuelled back-and-forths with aemond at the dinnertable, earning you both your cousins’ delicately-balanced respect, along with that of ser otto - and later, when helaena would find herself peering from over parapets to catch a glimpse of you besting even some of the kingsguard in the training yard with your bow skills.

ׂׂૢ the gradual quality with which you immerse yourself into her life escapes even her, until she begins to find herself noticing when your relentless energy and imaginative ploys are absent from the twins’ mornings and when you deem to take ale with aemond and his goons instead of joining her and alicent for supper. 

ׂׂૢ her status as a crown princess, and one betrothed to the king’s eldest son at that, taken into account, means that it’s probably once in a blood moon that helaena needs to ask for anything. which is what makes it mean all the more than it already does when she starts asking for your company.

ׂׂૢ and oh, how unendingly glad is she that she did.

ׂׂૢ her droll mornings become filled with your endlessly interesting talk of runestone, and your studies, and the things you’ve noticed since your arrival here (much of which she may not quite understand, but loves to listen to all the same). you’re by her side for each meandering stroll through the gardens that seems to take longer and longer each passing day, for every family meal that you manage to instill life and laughter into, for each lavish ball that she no longer fears now that she has you on her arm to keep her grounded and safe.

ׂׂૢ it’s the confident ease that you carry yourself with that endears helaena to you so much. how no task, no conversation, no idea is below or above you; that you’ll see the good and the worth in everything and everyone like it’s as easy as breathing.

ׂׂૢ so really, it’s no wonder that when it’s drawing late one night and you haven’t swung by her quarters with that darling smile of yours to wish her goodnight like you always do that when she goes in search of you, she finds you having dismissed the handmaids for the night and taken to tidying up the twins’ toys and study materials yourself. in the light of the still-flickering hearth, you look as heavenly a woman as helaena’s ever seen; so she’d be forgiven for finding herself kneeling so very close to you on the stone floor as she helps you stow figurines and charcoals away, and for losing herself in your lilac eyes that she doesn’t realise she’s leaning in until her lips are already on yours.

ׂׂૢ from there, it’s another slow descent - but helaena ensures not to miss a second of it this time around.

ׂׂૢ linked arms as you stroll through the gardens become held hands and guiding palms on the smalls of backs when no-one’s looking. the sewing lessons she’s insisted on walking you through end up looking more like you sitting back against her legs, as she loops her arms around yours and guides you through each stitch with her own hand, and now it’s a heatwave in the north before you’ll trade an evening with her for drinking with her fool brothers.

ׂׂૢ and you best believe, that’s only the very beginning.

ׂׂૢ she has dreamfyre saddled for two, and laughs through your terrified screams as she takes you so high into the clouds that you fear she’ll never possibly find her way back down. but really that’s your fault, as if you didn’t hand so tight onto her waist and bury your face into the crook of her neck, she would have no reason to delight in your flights as much as she does.

ׂׂૢ none of the articles of clothing you arrived with are now without alterations from her hand. a tiny, glittering arrow on a dress sleeve, a bronze-threaded neckline that seems to merge with an emerald-toned green as it sweeps down your back, all so subtle but done with love that they ease a smile onto your face every time they catch your notice again. and that’s not even taking into account the garments that are her design and commission alone, which now make up more than half of your wardrobe - rich, silken robes in every colour you could dream of, soft undershirts better suited to the warm climate of king’s landing than the heavy cotton ones you brought with you, gowns to match hers for all the balls she now drags you to on her arm.

ׂׂૢ her demure nature accounted for, she personally rejects any talks of vows for your hand - right down to seeing to it that all visiting noblewomen who appear to find too much interest in your bright eyes or warm laughter won’t find themselves having any business being in your company again.

ׂׂૢ on nights where she really just can’t bear to part with you until the morning, she’ll have her most trusted maidservants beguile her guards with a lie about her feeling poorly and asking you to stay with her for company; ensuring there’ll be no questions if anyone were to find the princess and a noblewoman entwined in bed together, cuddled so close it’s doubtful they could ever be parted.

ׂׂૢ it’s in moments like those, so sweet and so sacred, where the safety of your arms emboldens her so that she’ll dare to speak beyond the here and now. about her dreams of renouncing aegon, of taking the twins and you and flying as far as dreamfyre will take you, until you find a place that’s safe. safe for her to take you as your wife, for all the issues of succession and war to be a distant memory, where she can be a seamstress and you a farmer and the twins whatever they so want to be.

ׂׂૢ and torturously, those moments where she feels brave enough to speak plainly are the ones you find you just don't have the heart to give her the same honesty. so you kiss her forehead, brushing back silvery strands of hair as you settle in against one another and pray that your dreams lead you both to the same place where you may be able to live out that fantasy if only for a night.

[hllywdwhre]

Dreamer, Queen, Prince - Prologue

Pairing: Daemyra x fem!OC

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

Masterlist

*97 AC

Prince Aegon kneeled next to Princess Adlyn Stark’s pale form with her hand in his. A fever had set in soon after the birth of their daughter, Viserea, and in three days it had taken her. Aegon couldn’t bring himself to leave his wife’s side yet, in disbelief at the sick twist of fate. They had convinced her father Ellard, the Lord of Winterfell, to allow them to be wed. They had traveled to King’s Landing and had a royal wedding. Less than two moons later Adlyn found out she was with child. Their happiness had lasted less than a year.

It was Aemma’s touch that broke him out of his trance and caused him to finally look away from his dead wife’s body. Behind her stood his older brother, Viserys, and each of them held a baby bundled in blankets. Viserys held his own daughter, Rhaenyra, wrapped in a blanket of Targaryen red and Arryn blue, while Aemma held Aegon’s daughter, Viserea, wrapped in a blanket of Targaryen red and Stark grey. Both of the blankets were gifts from the girls’ uncle Daemon.

“Brother, you have my deepest condolences,” Viserys said, his face showing just how truly sorry he was for his brother, “You must leave her side now. Viserea needs you.”

Aegon can read the true meaning behind his words. They need to take her body away now so that she can be prepared for the funeral. That was why they truly needed him to leave her side.

“I want her sent back to the North. She deserves to be buried next to the rest of her family. She wanted us to return there to raise our family after our grandsire passed, she would want to be buried there,” Aegon told them. He knew that traditionally a Targaryen’s partner received a dragon rider’s death, but traditionally one didn’t marry for love and instead married out of political advantage. Their marriage was not traditional.

“Of course, Aegon. Her wishes will be honored,” Aemma said, not bothering with any titles. She was one of the only in the Keep who did not use them unless absolutely necessary, and while most would see it as disrespectful, Aegon knew that Aemma meant it as a show of affection. She had always found titles to not be personable enough when speaking to those that she loved.

Aegon kissed Adlyn’s hand one last time and wiped away the rest of his tears before standing. He turned to face his brother and his brother’s wife and allowed them to guide him out of the room where he could hear the handmaidens covering her body.

“How is Viserea?” Aegon asked, forcing himself to focus on the last bit of Adlyn he had left.

“As strong as the woman she was named after,” Viserys said as Aemma gently handed the newborn girl to her father.

Aegon let the smallest smile crack across his face at the sight before him. While she possessed the silver hair and violet eyes of a Targaryen, Viserea’s face was that of her mother’s. As much as he wanted to return to the room they had just left and lay beside his wife’s body and waste away until he joined her, Aegon knew he could not allow himself to do so. He would not leave his daughter alone in the world without a parent.

“Are you ready to pick an egg to join her in the cradle?” Viserys asked his brother.

“I’m assuming you have already placed the gold one in Rhaenyra’s cradle?” Aegon asked, though he knew the answer. It was the egg Viserys had been watching for weeks, just waiting on Rhaenyra to arrive so he could choose it. Viserys let out a laugh and nodded,

“Tell me that it isn’t fitting for her,” Viserys said and stepped next to Aegon, letting him see his daughter’s face. Aegon couldn’t help but see what Viserys meant.

“Well, let us see if we can find one as fitting for my Viserea, shall we?”

Aegon and Viserys allowed the wet nurses to take their daughters and made their way to the dragon pit. Aegon looked over the eggs for only a couple minutes before deciding on one. It was a deep purple so dark it almost seemed black with the tips of each scale colored silver. He ordered for it to be placed in the cradle with Viserea and to only be removed when necessary.

6 months later he would find a purple dragon with small talons of silver curled on his daughter’s chest while a golden dragon slept soundly next to his niece.

*100 AC

“Dracarys,” Jaehaerys shouted, watching as Vermithor’s flames covered his grandson’s body where it lay on a pyre.

Rhaenyra and Viserea clung to each other in front of the small crowd gathered for Aegon’s funeral. Daemon stood directly behind the girls, gently resting one hand on each of their heads. At only three years of age, neither of them should have to be introduced to death, yet Viserea was saying goodbye to her father and Rhaenyra to one of her uncles. He hurt for them both. His brother had always been the nicest of them, truly encapsulating the lessons their grandsire had tried teaching them. Daemon always knew that Aegon would have made the best king out of his siblings, but it seemed the gods had a cruel sense of humor.

That night when it was time for the Princesses to go to bed, no one stood any chance of separating them. They refused to leave Viserea’s bed and, eventually, Aemma and Viserys allowed them to spend the night together tightly wrapped in the red and black silk blanket brought back by Daemon.

*102 AC

“Tessarion!” Viserea said, as firm as a five year-old’s voice could be.

“Syrax!” Rhaenyra said in the same commanding tone.

The two girls had finally chosen the names of their dragons and had spent the entire day away in the dragon pit teaching them their names. Rhaenyra had chosen Syrax, named after the Valyrian goddess of fruitfulness. Viserea had chosen Tessarion, after the goddess of prophecies.

The dragons perked up, looking at their respective riders and tilting their heads. The two girls let out giggles of excitement. The dragonkeeper grinned proudly at the two of them.

“Now that they know their names, try giving them a basic command. Princess Rhaenyra will tell them to sit and Princess Viserea can tell them to stand.” He said, allowing each of the girls to take a step forward to the dragons.

“Demās,” Rhaenyra said clearly, smiling as both of the small dragons sat down. Rhaenyra turned to look at Viserea.

“Iōrās,” Viserea said next, causing both of the dragons to stand up. Both turned to look at the master, “Can we, please?” She asked. Moments later two goats were brought into the pit on opposite sides.

As soon as each goat had each dragon’s attention, they were given the okay by the dragonkeeper to give the command.

“Dracarys!” Rhaenyra and Viserea both said in unison, watching as their dragons’ stream of fire left their mouths.

*103 AC

“I present King Viserys Targaryen, first of his name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.”

Aemma, Rhaenyra, Viserea, and Daemon kneeled at the foot of the Iron Throne, facing the new King. Viserea and Rhaenyra both wore traditional Valyrian headpieces that Daemon had gotten made for both of them directly after King Jaehaerys had named Viserys his heir.

The first thing Viserys did as King was make Viserea a legal part of his and Aemma’s family. It was to be declared and documented that she was his daughter as much as Rhaenyra was and would receive the same treatment as though she was the King’s true born daughter. Viserea would grow up knowing who her parents truly were and would be taught about them and both sides of her family’s history, but by law, she was Viserys and Aemma’s daughter.

This declaration did not change the family dynamic that had been built over the past three years since Aegon’s passing. Rhaenyra and Viserea had been inseparable since birth; where one went, the other followed. Aemma had always been a mother figure in Viserea’s life. In fact, she had called Aemma her mother for the first time at four years old and it had taken a lot of delicate explaining to try and get Viserea to understand that Aemma was actually her aunt. It took even longer to calm the crying girl down when she was told that her mother had died. It was Rhaenyra that got her to calm down when she said that they could just “share” her mother. Viserea received the same treatment from Viserys that Rhaenyra did, even before Viserea’s own father had passed and in the three years between her father passing and Viserys being crowned King of the Seven Kingdoms.

*104 AC

The dream started out as many of Viserea’s did. Flashes of her and Rhaenyra with their dragons, flashes of them learning Valyrian, flashes of the couple memories she still had of her father. This one took a turn halfway through. The colors weren’t as clear; the sides of them blended together as if it was a painting left in the rain. A golden dragon flew in the sky far above King’s Landing and moment’s later a deep purple dragon with silver talons arose next to the golden. On the backs of the dragons were Rhaenyra and Viserea themselves. A dragon’s roar could be heard over the sound of wind and then Viserea was sitting upright in bed.

Viserea pulled on the large door to her chambers and came face-to-face with her own member of the King’s Guard, Ser Ryden Tyrell.

“Princess, what are you doing awake?” Ser Ryden asked, a kind look on his face.

“I need to see Rhaenyra,” Viserea told him politely, “It’s very important.”

“My Princess, the sun has not risen yet. Princess Rhaenyra is still asleep in her chambers,” Ser Ryden told her.

“I need to see her! We will ride our dragons today and I need to tell her,” Viserea said as if it was as common a piece of knowledge as any.

“How are you so sure of it, Princess?”

“I had a dream of it and when I woke up I heard Tessarion’s roar. I know it is a dream like Danys the Dreamer!” Viserea’s voice rose in volume and became more demanding, needing him to understand the urgency she felt.

Ser Ryden’s eyebrows raised in surprise at the Princess’ statement. He glanced around the hall and then back at Viserea,

“How about this, young Princess? We don't disturb anyone while they sleep and you go back to your chambers. I know about your dream and I will make sure you have your time with Syrax and Tessarion first thing in the morning so you can tell Princess Rhaenyra. If Princess Rhaenyra mounts Syrax and you mount Tessarion, you and I can go to the King together and tell him about it. Is that a good plan?”

Viserea pondered the idea for a moment before nodding and shaking his outstretched hand.

The next morning Viserea told Rhaenyra about the dream and Ser Ryden’s promise while they were escorted to the pit. Ser Rydan stood with the dragonkeeper, having already told him about Viserea’s dream and what he had promised her. After a review of all the commands they needed to know, the master allowed them to attempt to mount their dragons.

“Lykirī. Rȳbās. (Be calm. Listen.)” Viserea said as Rhaenyra did the same. Viserea approached Tessarion and gently stroked her neck, smiling as the dragon seemed to hum underneath her. Her hands shook on top of the dragon, but she did not let her nervousness show.

Viserea gripped the saddle of the dragon and began pulling herself up. She carefully placed her foot on the part of the wing they had been taught to use to help themselves mount and let out a yelp when Tessarion lifted the wing and helped her the rest of the way onto the saddle. Once she was seated, Viserea looked to Rhaenyra to find her already seated on Syrax. Both of the girls smiled widely at each other then turned their attention back to the dragons.

“Naejot. (Forward.)” Viserea commanded and she tightened her grip on the reins as Tessarion began moving from inside the dragon pit and out into the training yard. A breeze blew past them and a flash of golden was already making its way to the air. Wasting no more time, Viserea gave one last command,

“Sōvēs, Tessarion. (Fly.)”

Within moments, Tessarion was next to Syrax again and Rhaenyra and Viserea were cheering loudly. The two guided their dragons above King’s Landing, showing off as they did so. The small size of both them and their dragons made it so they could dip down into the larger spaces between buildings and be back above the rooftops in moments. They flew to the Red Keep all the way down to the Silk Streets then back to the pit again. When they finally landed, both girls wore great smiles and their dragons were chirping and clicking away happily.

After the dragons were taken care of and back where they belonged, Ser Ryden kept his promise and both the girls were brought to the King where Ser Ryden and Viserea told her uncle of the dream and then about how she and Rhaenyra had flown that very morning.

Viserea and Rhaenyra were now the youngest dragonriders in Westorosi history. Viserea was the first dreamer since Aegon the Conqueror.

[darklinaforever]

Daemyra / Daenyra :

Sessrin / Sesshrin :

Sareth :

Darklina / Alarkling :

Charlastor / Radiobelle :

Dramione :

Zutara :

No matter how hard the antis crack down on me, they will never tarnish my love for these ships ! Especially for Daemyra !

With the return of the HOTD show, they seem more determined than ever to come and piss me off for some, but they can clearly all go fuck themselves.

[deus-sema]

Here is how I would have fixed the Haunted House plotline without regressing the characters in s2. Though if I had my way then the entire show would be different but never mind.

If they really wanted to give Daemon a reason to feel conflicted about his relationship with Rhaenyra which could be preyed on by Harrenhal then they could have really opted for a different route than "Does Daemon love her or does he want da throne?" which is painfully redundant.

There is a proverbial elephant in the room which could have been used to create friction between Daemon and Rhaenyra on the show: Laenor. Yes, we fans might have accepted that they married according to Valyrian customs but in the eyes of the rest of the Realm, their marriage stands only because Laenor is believed to be "dead" which he isn't. They could have planted the seeds for it in s1 by having Daemon and Rhaenyra worry about Laenor and the possibility of his return even after they had a happy marriage of 6 years, because the results would be disastrous for them both: Their marriage will be deemed invalid, their sons will become bastards and Rhaenyra's claim will receive a major blow. Afterall, logically, they cannot trust Laenor to stay away forever. Then, in Episode 10, instead of that stupid choking scene, they could have had Daemon and Rhaenyra argue about the usage of dragons and have Rhaenyra say something on the lines of Seasmoke being of no use to them because his rider still lives only for Daemon to go all like,"Don't worry about that. It's already been taken care of." This could have led to the revelation that Daemon had Laenor assassinated in Essos which could have caused the first cracks in their relationship. Because Laenor's escape was something the two of them had planned together and he went behind her back to commit this act. Daemon could have rationalized it then by stating all reasons why Laenor needed to die for their good. It also won't be out of character because Laenor's murder is one of the crimes Daemon was actually suspected of in the books.

Flash forward to S2 when they have their argument after B&C and she tells him she doesn't trust him completely. It would hit harder because this is the second time he acted without her leave.Then, in Harrenhal, we could still have Daemon be haunted but instead of "da throne and crown", he has to battle his regret over breaking Rhaenyra's trust and guilt over Laenor's murder because he was family. Meanwhile, he could have donned a calm and composed exterior as he succesfully raises an army and plans a strategy for there was no need to change that subplot from the book while Harrenhal did a number on him behind closed doors.

It would kill two birds with one stone. Give Daemyra a reason to be mad at each other without regressing Daemon's character back to the throne and tied up the loose end left by Laenor's departure leaving Seasmoke to be smoothly claimed by Addam without butchering the lore.

[ai-megurine]

Still not over the fact that Helaegon is treated like a crack ship even though it's canon. Like seriously, this is ridiculous. They're married. They have children together. Book!Aegon went ballistic when Jace asks Helaena for a dance. Book!Helaena was Aegon's most important advisor until B&C. But nooooo, let's erase all that because they would eclipse Daemyra right?

[star-girl69]

I Loved You Like the Sun

a/n: daemyra is a ship that is filled with angst, so of course daemyra x reader will be filled with angst as well. honestly, get ready for the next few chapters bc it gets CRAZY

warnings: swearing, incest, tell me if i missed anything!!

Chapter Twenty Five- Don’t Say You Love Me

—-

You heard your husband and wife talking far later into the night, whispering words about a song, ice and fire, promises of princes. But you are too content in bed, safe between warm bodies.

You know Rhaenyra is still not convinced war is the best option, while Daemon is, and you have just resigned to do whatever your Queen decides. If she asks for your council, you will give it, if she asks for your comfort, your distraction, you will give it.

When you wake, you are still bitter at both yourself and them. The possibility of Daemon still leaving was like a storm cloud over your head. Your own foolishness, hurting Rhaenyra, believing she would send you away, you wake with memories flooding your mind.

You call for her, through the mess of warm bodies and silk sheets, and of course she answers.

You roll onto your other side, staring at her. Hair mussed from sleep, lips dry and cracked, eyes closed and voice rough.

You do nothing but press a kiss to her forehead, seeing her eyes open with amusement.

She barely has time to smile at you before a handmaiden knocks on the door, shouting that it’s time to get ready for the day.

You see Rhaenyra’s face fall, take on that self-blaming, guilty, apathetic look of a Queen. You have never wished more desperately for her to smile.

And she does, weakly, before she sits, leaving you cold and lonely. You turn, seeking warmth in your husband, and he wraps a gentle arm around you as you lay your head on his chest.

Your mood sours when you remember he might leave.

—-

Rhaenyra takes your hand, pulling it to hers. She traces the lines of your palm, and you have to tug your chair closer to properly let her.

The voices of lords fade to the background, and you are no longer planning a war. You are simply with your wife.

You don’t speak, afraid your words will act like knives and shatter the moment.

But it shatters anyway.

“The Lord of the Tides!” A guard calls, and you watch as the heavy wooden doors open. “Lord Corlys Velaryon…” The heavy sound of his cane hitting the floor, reminding you so vividly of your husband. It does truly seem like a lifetime ago. “and his wife, the Princess Rhaenys Targaryen.”

You stand with Rhaenyra, frown when she lets your hand fall, watch as Rhaenys and Corlys move slowly down the stairs, your daughters trailing behind them.

You hear Rhaenyra and Lord Corlys exchange pleasantries, but you selfishly move past him and his wife to Baela and Rhaena. They smile when they see you, and you are undeniably proud.

Rhaena presses herself into your waiting arms, and you press your lips to her temple. Baela wraps her arms around you, and you tilt your head to kiss her cheek. You murmur how pretty they look, and they thank you, Baela sending a glance over to Jace as she does so. Your heart swells, but you send them off, and they go to stand beside their betrothed.

Corlys hits his cane to the ground again, much softer, bringing you back to reality.

“Where is Daemon?” The Lord asks, eyes crawling over the room critically.

“There were other concerns which demanded the Prince’s attention.” Rhaenyra says, hands clasped in front of her, ever the perfect diplomat.

“Hm,” Lord Corlys says, glancing at her before stepping forward. His eyes sweep the room again, landing on you. “Lady Targaryen.” He greets, and you let a smile take over your face.

“Lord Corlys,” you nod your head, and he smiles. But it fades as he steps closer to the Painted Table, surveying it.

“Your declared allies?” he asks, getting straight to the point. Rhaenys meets your eyes, and she nods towards you, and you return it, slipping your way past her to be back at Rhaenyra’s side.

“Yes.” Rhaenyra answers, hand brushing your waist briefly as she step forward, a silent demand. You follow her as she comes closer to the Painted Table, to Lord Corlys.

This meeting, you know, is essential. Without the Velaryon’s support, you are lost. Which is why it is best Daemon is not there. For no matter war, he killed Vaemond, and Lord Corlys respects names and blood.

“Too few to win a war for the throne.”

You watch Rhaenyra scramble, ever-so-slightly, something only you could pick up on.

“Well, we would also hope to have the support of Houses Arryn, Baratheon, and Stark.”

“Hope… is the fool’s ally.” You watch as Rhaenyra falters, hesitating and choosing words carefully.

“Both Arryn and Baratheon share blood with my house. But all of them swore oaths to me.”

“As did House Hightower…” he retorts, “if I remember.”

“As did you, Lord Corlys.”

The hall is silent for another moment, until Corlys turns to look upon his grandchildren.

“Your fathers realm… was one of justice and honor. Our houses are bound by common blood and common cause. This Hightower treason cannot stand.” He plants his feet into the ground, spine straightening, eyes meeting Rhaenyra’s. “You have the full support of our fleet and house. Your Grace.” He bows, and you almost feel your heart burst from your chest.

You feel her hand grab yours.

“You honor me, Lord Corlys.” But when you look up at him, he is not looking at your wife. Instead, he looks upon his own. Rhaenyra turns, nodding grateful to Rhaenys. “Princess Rhaenys.” She nods, and you swear you see a smile on her face.

You let out your own sigh of relief. Slowly, but surely, your ranks were swelling and victory was in your sight.

Your feel her hand squeeze yours, the connection of skin hidden beneath layers of skirts. She breaths heavily, nerves overtaking her again before she speaks.

“But, as I said to my bannermen, I made a promise to my father to hold the realm story and united. If war’s first stroke is to fall, it will not be by my hand.”

“You do not mean to act?” He asks, clarifying, and you can tell he is incredulous.

“Taking caution does not mean standing fast. I wish to know who my ally’s are before I send them to war.”

He nods, taking another few steps around the table. Soon, he is only a few feet away from the two of you.

“The consequence of my… near-demise in the Stepstones… is that we know control them.”

You feel Rhaenyra’s sharp intake of breath, feel hope rise in your chest.

“I took care to fully garrison the territory this time. A total blockade of the shipping lanes will be in place in days, if not already. The Triarchy have been routed. The Narrow Sea is ours.”

Rhaenyra raises her head, understanding crossing her features as she turns to you. You smile, hope it is reassuring.

“If we further seal the Gullet, we can cut off all seaborne travel and trade to King’s Landing.” His hand traces over the Painted Table, resting over the city.

“I shall take Meleys and patrol the Gullet myself.” Rhaenys declares, coming forth to the table beside you. She looks at Rhaenyra, a true smile on her face.

“When we drain the Narrow Sea, we can surround King’s Landing. Lay siege to the Red Keep,” one of the lord’s councils. “and force the Greens’ surrender.”

Rhaenyra’s hand falls from yours, but you keep a frown from taking over your face.

“We should near those messages.” Jace interjects. “Dragons can fly faster than ravens and they’re more convincing. Send us.”

Now, you cannot help the frown taking over your face. Rhaenyra pulls her bottom lip into her mouth, and you can truly tell she is considering it.

“Are… are we sure that is… safe?” You ask, fingers winding together nervously, and Jace and Luke meet your gaze from across the table.

“No.” Lord Corlys admits. “But he is right.”

Before you, your children seem strong. Capable. Powerful and unforgettable. You know they could do it. But is it so wrong to not want them to leave?

Rhaenyra turns to you.

“Y/N,” she starts, slowly, “I know you don’t want anyone to leave. But this is not a matter of want, my love. This is a matter of need.”

And you know it is wrong, you know you are being cruel, but you grab her hands with your own. She smiles, looks at your hopefully.

“Let me go.” She drops your hands, disdain taking over her face.

“Out of the question.”

“No, no, Rhaenyra, I want to go. Let me go.” She shots you a glare, turning back to the table.

While it would be nice to be cruel for once, to hold power over them, make your husband and wife know the agony of being left behind, you want to be free. You want to spread your wings, to properly show off Cannibal, to be useful and have purpose.

“Please, Rhaenyra.”

“Your Grace, if I may.” And your eyes flick to Princess Rhaenys, hopeful. “You know quite well what dragon Lady Targaryen rides. In the matter of House Baratheon… The Dragon of the Night might help persuade him.”

She stands, ridged, hands digging into the edge of the Painted Table.

“Fine,” she hisses, some of that apathetic Queen mask falling, the woman you feel in love with resurfacing. “Prince Jacaerys will fly north. First to the Eyrie to see my mother’s cousin, the Lady Jeyne Arryn, then to Winterfell to treat with Lord Cregan Stark for the support of the north.”

“Thank you, Mother. I will not fail.”

You smile at him, hands still nervous, winding together, but you push it aside. You care more for your children then you do yourself. You know traveling to Storm’s End, a place true to its name, will be hard for their smaller dragons.

“Prince Lucerys will fly south to Tarth and Evenfall Hall. I am quite sure of their support already, but I would wish to show them respect.”

She inhales, but doesn’t look at you. Perhaps she cannot find it in herself to. But you look at her. You always look at her.

“Finally, Lady Targaryen will also fly south, to Storm’s End, and treat with Lord Borros. We must remind these lords of the oaths they swore. And… the cost of breaking them.”

—-

The bluffs of Dragonstone are loud with waves crashing, the heavy footsteps of dragons, their loud breaths. But Rhaenyra stands, looking out, unwavering.

She turns as you approach her with your sons. She does not smile. You know this is hard for her.

“It’s been said that as Targaryens, we are closer to gods than to men. And the Iron Throne puts us a touch closer, perhaps. But, if we are the serve the Seven Kingdoms… we must answer to their gods. We do not have to believe what we say, but we must say it regardless. You will swear to me, now, that you will go as messengers. Not warriors.”

A guard brings forth a heavy tome, a book of the Seven you recognize by the seven-pointed star Alicent wore on its cover.

“Swear that you will go as messengers.” It feels wrong to place your hand upon it, but you do. Your sons follow.

“I swear it,” you say, and your boys repeat it. Rhaenyra nods, an absentminded smile ghosting her face.

“Thank you.” She nods, and the book is taken away. “Cregan Stark is… closer to your age than mine. I hope, as men, you can find common interest. The Tarth’s helped your grandsire after his injury. I am quite sure any treating will be easy.”

You turn to Luke. His eyes filled with fear. His joy at being confirmed Lord of the Tides had not lasted long, realization setting in. You know he is scared. But you also know he a brave, sweet boy.

“I will fly with you most of the way,” you soothe, and he nods. “The Tarths will be honored to host a prince of the realm. And his handsome dragon.” He smiles, although it doesn’t quite meet his eyes.

Rhaenyra weaves by you, grabbing his hands.

“I expect you will receive a very warm welcome, darling.” Rhaenyra smiles, and he nods once.

“Yes, mother. Your Grace.” She runs a soothing hand down his shoulder, and you wrap a hand around his neck and press a kiss to his hair. “Goodbye, mother.” He says to you, pulling away, and you smile.

She turns to you, as the boys make their way to Vermax and Arrax, you stay behind.

“Borros Baratheon is a proud man. Insufferable. Your welcome will not be as warm, I expect, but the threat of Cannibal will protect you.” She grabs your hand, thumb rubbing your skin, staring deeply into your eyes. “Do not tell me I don’t have to memorize you. I am Queen, and I will look at my wife for as long as I want.” You smile, let her assuage herself, eyes roaming your features. “Alright. Best you go, quick. I expext Daemon has just received my message, and he will stop you.”

“Tell- tell him I love him?” You ask, hating how your eyes fill.

“If he can even look at me,” she jokes. “My love…”

And she presses her lips to yours, and you sink into her, wanting, needing more of her. But she pulls away.

“This is not a goodbye.” She says, forehead pressed to yours, voice tight.

“Nyra, I-”

“Please don’t say you love me.” She whispers, and you see the wet trail of salt fall down her face. You have the urge to lick it off her, like she did to you at your wedding.

“Okay. Okay, I won’t.”

She nods, and hesitates, but pushes you away before she can pull you back in again.

You don’t want to say goodbye. So you smile at her, and she smiles back.

—-

As Cannibal moves beneath you, muscles churning, the sound of wind filling your ears, you cannot resist the urge to look behind you.

There your wife stands, looking out over the bluffs of Dragonstone, unwavering.

—-

taglist:

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[top-rhaenyra]

Saw a confession speculating what will happen to Rhaenicent S2 onwards. Here was the take:

Alicent starts S2 slowly becoming disillusioned with Team Green, distancing herself from them.

This in turn triggers her redemption arc, leading to her reunion with Rhaenyra at Dragonstone.

Rhaenyra just lost Jace, she’s still raw from the pain and isn’t interested in making peace.

Alicent has to prove her loyalty and genuine remorse for what happened to Rhaenyra’s children.

She does this by helping Team Black seize Kingslanding.

Her only conditions are that Aegon is sent to the Wall and no harm comes to Helaena. She can’t ask for mercy for Aemond because of Luke, Rhaenyra will always choose her boys no matter what and she has to accept this.

As Nettles has been written out of the show, Alicent will be the cause for Daemyra’s marriage to start showing cracks. Daemon wants her dead but Rhaenyra refuses.

When Rhaenyra is killed by Aegon I it will be Alicent who witnesses instead of Aegon II.

Shell then avenge Rhaenyra by killing Aegon I herself.

Think it’s also better if she’s the one who proposes Aegon II and Jaehaera’s marriage instead of Corlys.

I can see this being Alicent’s storyline. What are your thoughts?

wow there's a lot here so i'm gonna go point by point

i don't think she's ever been fully illusioned by team green in the first place. i think she was scared and being pushed around and made a choice to crown aegon that she perhaps didn't even agree with while she was doing it

while i could see this being possible, i don't know. i think she's going to go to dragonstone to beg for peace, but i don't believe it is going to be a "redemption" arc in the usual sense

100% see this happening

no

no

though i like the idea of alicent waffling between both sides, i don't think she's going to go full team black like this. these terms may be a part of the original peace she attempts to broker, but i don't see her actively switching sides to help rhaenyra at the expense of her children

definitely see this happening. i think there are already a ton of cracks in the daemon/rhaenyra relationship just based on...everything about their relationship lmfao, but i do see alicent's life being a sticking point that perhaps sends daemon to harrenhall to hunt down aemond? juicy, unsure if it will happen, would find it hilarious if it did

i think you mean aegon 2 and 3 respectively, but i'm not sure. i think both of them can be there if the writers decide to have alicent present for rhaenyra's death

i honestly have no idea how they'll handle aegon 2's death. i could see alicent poisoning him for a number of reasons--from a mercy kill to resentment. i could also see someone else killing him (dyana perhaps?). despite it all, alicent does love her children, and i don't think she could bring herself to kill her first son in order to avenge rhaenyra, regardless of what he's done

could see this. don't think its that important tbh. all i know is that i'm waiting for the final line of the show to be alicent saying "i wish i were reading to rhaenyra under the weirwood like we did as girls"

i hope this made sense! i also hope i don't come off as dismissive or rude for some of these points, but i just genuinely don't see alicent as being able to plot against her own children entirely.

this is all speculation so take with a grain of salt haha