#hotd criston

[beetlejuicyy]

criston cole is such a female-experience coded character and it is exactly why he is hated so much hear me out

his whole character is built around the idea that rhaenyra seduced him, had taken his dignity and made him feel like her whore. his vow and his duty are close enough to the idea of women's purity and value. you were sullied, you have to marry the man that devalued you, otherwise you are spoiled and unworthy.

on top of that, his identity as a knight, as kingsguard means he is submissive. he is not seen having a lot of opinions or plans to how things are done, the big guys in the council decide and he has to obey to their orders.

on top of that, when he does act at last, it's portrayed in the form of scheming, behind the backs of people, and it's mostly attributed to his sentimental nature, to his inability to think straight, be logical because of his personal feelings. that's how women have been portrayed for centuries.

another thing that makes his character harder to grasp is the choice to have the same actor play the pre-timeskip and past-timeskip criston. 20 years have passed and yet people see him as the same person who refused to be rhaenyra's whore but now he is hypocritical because he is alicent's whore. 20 years have passed and, even if you can't see it on his face, he's bound to have changed too.

in his relationship with alicent he doesn't talk as much. he is obedient, she's the one in charge. she gets to say when and how things happen, he is just at her service.

his entire character is build up to revolve around rhenyra, like women's lives are supposed to revolve around men. if he refuses to acknowledge his status in his youth he is no longer allowed to later (after 20 years mind you) find some sort of comfort in another master. it's like saying "if you say you hate the system why take part in it"?

his pent up rage and hatred is evil, because what happened to him was behind closed doors where no one saw or heard of it. because if they knew of it he would lose everything, exactly the way women have often refrained from talking about their condition in fear of being villainized themselves. in the meantime, the one in power will keep their dignity and spotless reputation like rhaenyra is not even held accountable for having bastards pushed forward as heirs, not to mention the fling she had with criston.

this rant is in no way trying to portray criston cole as a saint or a good guy or trying to justify his behaviour. this is actually the problem with hotd, the effort to draw a line between the good guys and bad guys. have it be either balck or white. it's not, it can't be. you either have complex, morally grey characters with flaws and mistakes or you go watch marvel or something. even there villains are more humanized than in this petty effort of righteousness.

LE: thank you everyone who mentioned the aspect of criston being a man of colour from dorne and the power dynamic between a royal and a lower born who fought his way into the world! this rant was written in a rush and while i couldn't express the latter as eloquently as most of you in the tags/comments, i completely overlooked the former. i love looking through everyone's tags and comments and seeing your takes. as @jazzyclarinet pointed out in the comments, seeing criston's character in this light does not erase or diminish the injustice other women in the story experience.

on another note, i feel like part of the blame is on the way hbo marketed the season with the pressure to pick a side. however, i think what we've been lacking as a society in the post covid years is actual unbiased analysis of art. swallowing up content without any question and making said content a personality trait is harmful. as i said, i don't like criston as a character, but i can make these points about him simply because i watch the show critically and i don't blindly defend a character while trashing another.

[littlegirlinvisible]

She saved my life. Twice.

[idkyetxoxo]

Criston Cole - Guarded Obsession

Summary - Navigating court gossip and unwanted advances, a confrontation erupts where her obsessive protector, Ser Criston, steps in with fervent determination. His unwavering devotion to her becomes evident, revealing his willingness to defy all norms and protect her at any cost.

Pairing - Criston Cole x Targaryen reader

Warnings - Strong language

Word count - 2158

Masterlist for Criston • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

"I believe he'ss warmed his lady wife's sister's bed more often than hers," I whispered, my wine goblet becoming an extension of my slight hand gestures as Criston's eyes tracked each subtle movement.

"Scandalous news," he murmured, his voice barely rising above the hum of conversation around us. Together, we watched the couple awkwardly mingling with other nobles, their forced smiles and stiff postures betraying the simmering tension beneath the surface.

"And yet, I hear Lady Marjaery is expecting," I continued, lowering my voice conspiratorially. "Though the whispers suggest the father might not be her esteemed husband, but rather the charming stable boy."

Criston stifled a laugh. "The stable boy? Imagine the uproar if her husband were to find out."

"Indeed," I agreed with a smirk. "And what of Lord Cedric's latest escapade, have you caught wind of that?"

"No, but I'm eager to hear," Criston replied, leaning in closer.

"Apparently, he's been seen slipping out of Lady Evelyn's chambers on more than one occasion but here's the twist, Lady Evelyn's husband has been turning a blind eye, likely because he's rather occupied with a young squire himself. It's a whirlwind of infidelities."

Criston chuckled. "It seems everyone's playing musical beds these days. Speaking of unusual liaisons, have you heard about Lord Tommen?"

"Ah, yes," I said, grinning. "Lord Tommen, who has more interest in the blacksmith's son than any lady of the court. It's caused quite the stir, but he doesn't seem to mind the gossip one bit."

"Bold as ever," Criston remarked with a smirk. "I suppose it takes all kinds to keep the court entertained."

"Princess, may I have this dance?" a voice interrupted, cutting through the murmur of conversation that surrounded us.

My head snapped up, momentarily forgetting the grand ballroom and its dazzling surroundings. A young lord stood before me, exuding an air of confidence as he awaited my response.

"That is a kind offer, my lord, but—" I began, attempting to frame a polite refusal. Before I could finish, my mother, Alicent, approached with quick, purposeful strides, her gaze fixed firmly on me.

"She would love to dance, wouldn't you?" she interjected, her tone a blend of expectation and command, as though the matter were settled by her mere insistence.

The young lord, Lord Baratheon, shifted awkwardly, his face betraying a mixture of eagerness and discomfort.

"Lord Baratheon, the princess will join you on the floor," my mother continued, her words decisive and unyielding.

He opened his mouth as if to correct her but seemed to think better of it. "Please, Your Grace, Lord Baratheon is my father. I am simply Alyn," he said, offering a respectful bow before moving to the edge of the dance floor, where he waited with an awkward half-smile.

As my mother turned to me, her eyes flashed with a simmering rage that was impossible to ignore.

"I have told you time and time again to act like a princess," she scolded, her voice low but firm. "Stop standing off in corners to gossip and laugh. It is unseemly."

I sighed deeply, knowing this was a battle I was unlikely to win. The weight of her disapproval settled heavily on my shoulders.

"Ser Criston?" she called, and the man beside me tensed visibly. "I expect better from you. You may be her sworn protector, but that does not mean you indulge her in evading her duties," she continued sharply, her eyes narrowing at him.

Criston nodded, his expression stoic.

"Ser Criston is not at fault for my behavior," I interjected, but my mother spun to face me, her frustration barely contained.

"Do not defend each other," she snapped. "Frankly, I am tired of this friendship you've formed. Do not give me a reason to have you removed from your duties," she warned, her voice cutting through the ballroom's din.

Without waiting for a response, she turned her back on us, her skirts swishing with finality.

"Now go be a good girl and dance with Lord Baratheon's son," she ordered, her tone leaving no room for further discussion.

I exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of the evening's expectations pressing down on me. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I set my drink down on a nearby table with a resigned clink.

"In a while, Ser Criston," I said with a wry smile, our eyes locking for a brief, charged moment. He nodded, his expression unreadable as he followed my progress toward the dance floor with a gaze heavy with unspoken thoughts.

As I approached Alyn, the weight of the ballroom's gaze seemed to press down on me. The glimmering chandeliers bathed the room in a warm, golden light, illuminating the swirling couples and lavish decor. Yet, despite the opulence, my focus remained solely on the young lord waiting before me.

I placed my hand in his, allowing him to guide me into the midst of the dancers. The music swelled around us, wrapping us in its rhythmic embrace.

Criston watched from the edge of the dance floor, his internal struggle evident despite his outward composure. He was painfully aware of the inappropriateness of his feelings, feelings he could neither voice nor fully suppress. 

An overwhelming sense of protectiveness enveloped him every time he saw me, a girl whose striking presence was only matched by the grace with which I moved.

As I twirled in Alyn's arms, I could almost feel Criston's gaze searing into my back. His jaw was clenched so tightly that I imagined his teeth might shatter. 

Though his face remained a mask of stoic professionalism, a storm of raw, turbulent emotions brewed in his eyes, a tempest he struggled to contain, lest it consume him entirely.

"Alyn," I said softly, slightly breathless from the relentless movement of the dance. The lilting waltz wrapped us in its rhythmic embrace.

"Yes, Princess?" he replied, his fingers pressing possessively against my waist.

"Perhaps we should take a break," I suggested, yearning for a respite from the endless spinning.

Alyn's eyes flickered with a darker emotion, perhaps frustration at his inability to charm me or an impatience born of entitlement.

"If you must," he conceded, his voice tinged with barely concealed exasperation, as if my request were a significant inconvenience.

"Asshole," I muttered under my breath, my face contorting into a sour expression. I glanced towards my mother, who shot me a look that unmistakably said, "Fix your face before I do it for you."

As Alyn guided me off the dance floor, the crowd pressed in tighter, adding to my discomfort. Amid the swirling dancers, someone moving backward collided with me, sending a goblet of wine cascading over my dress.

The wine splashed across my gown in a scarlet cascade, the rich, red liquid seeping into the delicate silk like blood staining fresh snow. It clung to my skin, cold and sticky.

"Seven hells," I muttered, frustration evident as I felt the wine seep through to my skin.

"I apologize," the man responsible for the mishap stammered, his face flushed with embarrassment. I waved him off, striving to maintain my composure despite my growing irritation.

"Princess, allow me," Alyn said quickly, pulling out a handkerchief and beginning to dab at the stain. His touch, though ostensibly helpful, carried an unwelcome lecherousness, lingering just a moment too long.

"It's alright," I said, trying to gently push his hand away. Despite my efforts, he persisted.

Alyn's hands were unseemly, lingering on me with a familiarity that was far from appropriate. He seemed to relish this opportunity to play out his fantasies under the guise of assistance. The feel of his touch, so bold and unwelcome, made my skin crawl.

"I said don't touch me," I snapped, grabbing his hand as it trespassed to an inappropriate place.

The sharpness of my voice cut through the room, freezing the surrounding nobles in place.

In a blur of motion, Criston appeared by my side, his grip on Alyn's wrist like iron. The crack of bone echoed as he twisted Alyn's arm behind his back, eliciting a sharp cry of pain that sliced through the ballroom's murmur.

A hush fell over the crowd as Criston leaned in, his voice a low, dangerous whisper that sent a shiver down my spine. "She said stop."

Alyn's eyes widened in alarm, but before he could react, Criston's voice dropped even lower, edged with menace.

"So stop, or by the Seven, I will sever this very hand and feed it to her dragon," he hissed, his tone cold and unyielding. The threat hung in the air, a grim promise of the depths of Criston's protective rage.

My mother, her face a storm of barely contained fury and mortification, rushed forward. Her eyes, a storm of anger, locked onto me and Criston. 

With surprising strength, she pulled Alyn away from Criston, forcing a tight-lipped smile.

"Apologies," she said to Alyn, her voice strained as she attempted to maintain civility. Alyn mumbled curses under his breath, clearly displeased with the turn of events.

"Princess, Ser Criston, take your leave," she commanded, her voice resolute and devoid of any room for dissent.

I sighed deeply, the weight of my actions and the ensuing turmoil pressing heavily upon me. With a resigned nod, I turned to leave the banquet hall, my head lowered in shame and guilt.

Criston's heavy, measured footsteps followed closely behind, each step echoing the gravity of the situation as we exited the grand hall.

As we exited the ballroom, the cacophony of laughter and conversation receded, enveloping us in a tranquil silence as we moved into the cooler, quieter corridors. Each step took us further from the scene of my humiliation, the weight of the evening's events pressing heavily upon me.

"Fucking cunt," I muttered as we reached the sanctuary of my chambers. I began roughly removing my jewelry, the once-glittering gems now marred and sticky from the spilled wine.

"Did he offend you?" Criston asked, his eyes respectfully averted, though his internal struggle was palpable.

I could sense the tension in his posture as I attacked the stubborn stain on my dress with a cloth, frustration evident in each vigorous rub.

"Stupid Baratheon brat," I muttered, almost laughing at the absurdity of the nickname I'd invented in my irritation. The bitterness of it all brought a wry smile to my lips.

"Offend me, he did," I said, throwing the cloth aside in exasperation.

"My mother can't even see past her sense of duty," I continued, gripping my hair in frustration. "It's as if my well-being doesn't matter to her as long as I maintain propriety."

Criston remained silent, his presence a steady anchor amidst my storm of emotions.

I paced the room, venting without restraint. "She apologized to him," I said, disbelief and anger mingling in my voice. "She apologized to the man who dared to lay his hands on me, the princess," I finished, collapsing onto the edge of my bed.

Criston moved closer, his expression dark and protective. "Your mother is bound by duty, Princess, but her actions tonight were unjust," he said softly, his voice a soothing balm to my frayed nerves.

"Right," I sighed, closing my eyes and massaging my temples. "No doubt she'll be here later tonight, reprimanding us." I could almost hear the familiar knock on the door, followed by her stern voice. 

Criston's quiet laugh was a comforting sound in the tense atmosphere.

"I believe those are the only words she directs toward us," he remarked, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"The blind leading the blind, that's what she said last time?" I recalled, a laugh bubbling up as the memory resurfaced. It was a sharp, biting phrase, but now, in the safety of my chambers, it seemed almost absurd.

"Indeed it was," he agreed, his smile easing the tension in his face.

"She can't take you from me," I said, leaning forward with a fervent intensity.

"I will not let it happen," he replied, his expression resolute. Though his face was a mask of cool determination, beneath it lay his fierce resolve to remain by my side.

The bond between us was something neither of us would easily relinquish.

"I still remember the first time you stood guard outside my chambers," I said with a wistful smile. "You were so serious, as if the fate of the realm depended on it."

Criston chuckled, the sound deep and warm. "I remember," he said, his eyes twinkling with the memory. "I thought if I showed even a hint of levity, I'd be dismissed on the spot."

"I appreciated your seriousness," I said, my tone softening. "But I also remember sneaking out past you more than once."

"Ah, yes," he replied, shaking his head in mock disapproval. "You were quite the handful. Still are, if I may say so."

I laughed, the sound easing the lingering tension in the room.

"Thank you, Ser Criston," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. "Your loyalty means more to me than you know."

"For you, my loyalty is unwavering," he replied firmly. "No matter what your mother or anyone else says, I will stand by you." 

Criston knew there was no force that could sever the bond between us.

To him, I was his, his lady to protect, his princess.

A/n - Love a good gossip

[lionneee]

Little Princess

English is not my first language, please be kind

Masterlist

Taglist

Girl that's sweet ❤️‍🩹

Girl that's spicy 🌶️

Girl that's angst 💢

Girl that's dark 🌚

Girl that’s a request 🕯️

Modern!Father’s!Best!Friend!Aemond x Fem!Reader

[Aemond is your father’s best friend, yet, that didn’t stop you or him to infinge in a secret sexual relationship.]

Part I 🌶️

Part II 🌶️ 🕯️

Part III 💢🌶️❤️‍🩹

Part IV ❤️‍🩹🌶️

[hotdaemondtargaryen]

FABIEN FRANKEL AS SER CRISTON COLE PHOTOGRAPHED BY THEO WHITEMAN IN EPISODE 4 OF 'HOUSE OF THE DRAGON' S2.

[dreamfyre-beautiful]

Am I the only one that gets weirded out by Criston Cole hate? Like he called a RICH WHITE lady who was his boss a cunt once and suddenly he’s satan??

[novaursa]

Bonsoir Madame

Can I have a fem!hightower x grayne x Criston

Where she’s Alicent younger sister, she grow up most her life in king’s landing. Ser Criston is kinda obsessed with her, he’s her knight so he had to protect her always. And one night when he’s standing behind her door, he clearly hears her make her little business. But when he try to watch he find out that she’s with her own brother Gwayne.

H eventually confronted her (that little bitch had no shame to thinks is superior and attack someone..) but Gwayne came to her rescue and with all his sarcasm make him shut up

Behind the Chamber Door

Requests are closed!

- Summary: Ser Criston was appointed to guard you by your sister, Queen Alicent herself. He overhears something that makes him confront both you and his heart’s desire.

- Paring: Gwayne Hightower/hightower!reader/Criston Cole

- Note: The reader is Gwayne's and Alicent's younger sister.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne

The night is heavy with silence, broken only by the occasional flicker of torchlight outside your chambers. The faint glow bathes the stone walls in a soft, wavering light, casting long shadows that dance across the floor. Criston Cole stands vigilant, a statue clad in gleaming armor. He has always been there, lingering outside your door—Alicent’s loyal shield, your appointed protector. His presence is supposed to offer comfort, but lately, his gaze feels too watchful, too piercing. You feel his eyes on you whenever you pass, but tonight it is different.

Tonight, he heard.

The muffled sounds from your chamber had not been intended for any ears beyond your own and your brother's. Gwayne, your beloved brother, had left not long ago, slipping back into the quiet corridors of the Red Keep. The door had closed behind him, but the echo of his presence still lingered—along with the heat of his touch. You knew you shouldn't feel this way about him, but you couldn't help it. You had always shared an unusual closeness, one that had grown into something far more dangerous.

The weight of that intimacy presses against your chest even now as you sit on the edge of your bed, still breathless from his visit. Your heart pounds as you think of Gwayne’s whispered words, his touch—his love. But you are startled from your reverie by a sound at your door.

A sharp knock.

You rise, instinctively pulling your robe tighter around you. The door creaks open, and there stands Ser Criston Cole. His face is tense, jaw clenched, and there’s a look in his eyes that you have never seen before. He steps inside, closing the door behind him with a soft thud. The silence between you stretches taut, thick with unspoken words. His dark eyes are ablaze, and you know in that instant—he knows.

"You should be more careful," Criston says, his voice low and harsh. "The walls have ears, Y/N."

You feel your stomach drop, the fear prickling at the back of your neck. "Criston..." You start, but the words falter on your lips. His name sounds fragile in the charged air.

His gaze flicks toward the bed, then back to you. "You’ve made a mockery of your family’s name, of your own. Do you understand what you've done?"

His tone cuts like a blade, the weight of his accusation sinking deep. You swallow hard, trying to regain some sense of control. "You don’t understand."

"No," he interrupts, stepping closer, his face inches from yours now. His anger is palpable, his breathing ragged. "I understand perfectly. I heard everything." His voice drops, the words hissing through clenched teeth. "Your brother… Gwayne Hightower. You let him—"

He doesn't finish, the disgust in his voice enough to paint the image vividly in your mind.

Your heart races. You look away, unable to face the fury in his eyes. "It's not what you think," you manage, but even to you, the words sound hollow, unconvincing.

Criston’s hand comes up, grasping your chin firmly, forcing you to meet his gaze. The touch is both gentle and commanding, a contradiction of the conflict within him. "You think I haven't seen the way he looks at you? The way you look at him?" His grip tightens slightly. "Do you think this is some game? A secret you can keep forever?"

You shudder, your breath catching. "And what would you have me do, Criston? Deny the feelings I have? Deny him?" The vulnerability in your voice betrays you. You want to resist, to push him away, but there's a part of you—somewhere deep down—that craves his attention, his anger.

His jaw tightens, his hand dropping from your chin, clenched now into a fist. "You don't understand," he whispers, his voice breaking, and for the first time, you see the struggle in his eyes—more than just his disgust, his duty. His own feelings are tearing him apart.

"Why?" you ask, your voice soft. "Why do you care so much?"

His eyes darken, and for a moment, he says nothing, the words caught in his throat. But then, finally, he breathes out, "Because... I care for you." The confession spills out like a dam breaking, raw and unguarded.

You freeze. Criston Cole—your sworn protector, the man bound by oath—cares for you. More than that, the way he looks at you now... it's more than duty, more than protection. It's something deeper, something dangerous.

"Ser Criston—" you begin, but before you can finish, the door swings open with a sharp creak. Gwayne strides in, his posture relaxed, but his eyes sharp as ever, taking in the scene. He sees Criston’s clenched fists, the tension in the air, and the way you stand frozen between them. A smirk curls at the corner of his lips, as if he finds the whole situation amusing.

"Ser Criston," Gwayne drawls, his voice laced with sarcasm. "Is this how you treat my sister? Should I be worried?" He steps between the two of you, placing a hand on your shoulder, possessive and casual all at once.

Criston stiffens, his eyes narrowing. "You should stop what you're doing before it's too late," he warns, voice trembling with barely suppressed anger.

But Gwayne only laughs softly, shaking his head. "Ah, Ser Criston. Always the righteous knight." His gaze shifts to you, softening. "Perhaps you’re jealous. Is that it? You wish to be in my place?"

Criston's face hardens, the words cutting deep, but he says nothing. The silence stretches again, heavy and suffocating.

Gwayne's grip on your shoulder tightens. "Go, Ser Criston. You’ve done your duty for the night." His voice is commanding now, dismissive.

For a moment, Criston hesitates, his fists clenched at his sides. His eyes meet yours one last time, searching, pleading, before he turns on his heel and storms out, the door slamming behind him.

Gwayne lets out a low chuckle, leaning in to kiss your temple. "He'll get over it," he whispers, his hand sliding down your arm. "He always does."

But you can't shake the feeling that nothing will be the same after tonight.

[thisismycursed3rdblog]

[green-watcher]

Alicent x Criston 🫣

[lonelyvampx]

Criston Cole is the real Bambi 🦌💖

[writingwenches]

Dangit, y'all are going to make me write the fic that explains the scene immediately before Gwayne pulling his sword on Criston...

Those eyes are not the eyes of a man defending his sisters honor, those are the eyes of someone who just got their lil heart broke because his wartime paramour just said his sister's name while they were fucking "relaxing" in his tent

Of the Hightower siblings, his sister came out "on top" once again.

thanks to barbieaemond for the high quality still~

[littlegirlinvisible]

I have no philosophy. Or rather, my philosophy was this. To protect the righteous and dispense justice on the rest. But now, you saw what I saw.

[idkyetxoxo]

Criston Cole - Leave It All Behind

Summary - A princess and her knight are entangled in a dangerous affair. As they grapple with the consequences of a mistake, they must make a daring decision to flee their lives of prestige for a chance at love and freedom, risking everything to protect their future.

Pairing - Criston Cole x Targaryen reader

Warnings - Sexual content (smut!), unexpected pregnancy

Word count - 2109

Masterlist for Criston • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

"God's Criston," I gasped, rocking my hips back and forth. 

The night was thick with silence, broken only by the soft rustling of the sheets and our ragged breaths. We were in my chambers, the moon casting a silver glow through the windows, illuminating our naked forms on the bed. 

My legs straddled his large thigh, his face was buried in my chest, his tongue darting out to swirl against my hardened nipples. The sensation sent shivers down my spine, and I could feel the heat pooling between my thighs.

"Ser Criston," I repeated, my voice more urgent this time. 

I stretched my neck, tilting my head back as I began moving more quickly. The friction of my wetness against his muscular thigh was intoxicating, each motion sending a delicious wave of pleasure through my core.

My hand darted out, rubbing against my clit in quick, desperate motions, seeking the friction I so badly desired. Each stroke sent waves of pleasure through my body, but it wasn't enough. 

I needed more of him, all of him.

"I want more," I finally breathed. It was a plea, a command, an admission of my deepest desire.

He paused, lifting his head from my chest to look up at me with those deep, brown eyes. He licked his swollen lips as I ran my fingers through his hair, halting my movements for a moment.

I lifted my leg, shifting my body so I was now on my knees between his legs. 

"Feel me," I whined, taking his hand in mine and placing it between my thighs. 

His palm cupped my cunt, rubbing back and forth with an intimate familiarity that only heightened my arousal. I couldn't help but moan softly.

"Feel how badly I want you," I breathed, my voice trembling with need.

He sighed in contentment his touch both firm and tender as he explored the wet heat between my legs. I ground against his hand, each movement a silent plea for more.

His fingers found my entrance, teasing me with gentle, probing strokes before slipping inside. I gasped, my body arching into his touch, the sensation of being filled so exquisitely overwhelming. 

His thumb pressed against my clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles that sent sparks of pleasure radiating through me.

His other hand came up to cup my breast, his thumb brushing over my nipple in a maddeningly slow caress. The dual sensations were almost too much to bear, my body trembling with the intensity of it.

"Please, Criston," I moaned, my hips moving in a desperate rhythm against his hand. "I need you."

He withdrew his fingers suddenly, and I whimpered at the loss.

"We agreed," he began, his voice strained as I gently started stroking his hard length. My hands moved up and down, cupping and squeezing him. "You wanted to keep your virtue intact," he reminded me, his resolve wavering under my touch.

"I do not care anymore," I said simply, my eyes locking onto his. It was as if that was all the confirmation he needed. 

A fire ignited in his gaze, and he pushed me back onto the bed, hovering over me. His lips found the side of my neck, and he began kissing me there, his breath hot against my skin.

He positioned himself, the tip of his length teasing my entrance before he slowly began to enter me. The sensation was unlike anything I had ever felt before, and short gasps escaped my lips. 

My hands braced against his shoulders as he moved inside me with a steady, deliberate pace.

"Is this what you wanted?" he asked, his voice a low, husky whisper. His pace remained steady as my back arched upward, seeking more of him.

"Gods, yes," I panted, wrapping my legs around his waist, attempting to pull him closer. 

A low chuckle escaped his lips at the sight of me becoming so undone under him. "Needy princess," he taunted, his voice filled with a mix of affection and amusement. 

My eyes snapped shut, my body lifting periodically to meet his thrusts.

"If I knew this is how it felt, I would've given up my virtue a long time ago," I groaned, my words punctuated by his deeper, faster movements. 

Each thrust brought me closer to the edge, and I could feel the tension building, ready to snap at any moment.

His pace quickened, his control slipping as he lost himself in the sensation. The room was filled with the sounds of our lovemaking, a symphony of passion and desire. I clung to him as the pleasure overwhelmed me.

"Criston," I moaned, my voice barely a whisper. "Please, don't stop."

"I won't," he promised, his breath hot against my ear. His movements became more urgent, more desperate as if he too was on the brink of losing control.

And then, with one final thrust, the tension broke. Waves of pleasure crashed over me, and I cried out, my body trembling with the force of my release. He followed soon after, his own release shuddering through him as he collapsed onto me, both of us breathless and spent.

For a moment, we lay there in the aftermath, our bodies entwined, the room filled with the sound of our slowing breaths.

─── ✦⋅♡⋅✦ ───

Weeks had passed since Criston and I had shared a bed. It was not the first time, either; the act had become somewhat of an addiction for us, taking each other whenever and wherever we could. 

Our passion was like an unquenchable fire, consuming us at every opportunity.

We had been careful enough. Criston did not finish inside me, and I had drank moon tea as many times as I could without anyone finding out but it didn't seem to be enough.

"Seven hells," I breathed, pacing the floor of my chambers, awaiting his arrival. 

Anxiety gnawed at me, twisting my stomach into knots. The weight of my secret felt like a heavy cloak suffocating me, each step a reminder of the uncertain future that loomed ahead.

"Princess," Criston greeted as he entered, his smile faltering as he took in my worried state. His presence, usually a source of comfort, now only heightened my anxiety.

"What is the matter?" he rushed out, halting my pacing with gentle hands on my shoulders. His touch was warm and steady, but it did little to calm my racing heart.

"I believe I am with child," I admitted. His mouth fell open, and he took a step back, the news clearly shocking him. The room seemed to close in on us, the air thick with tension.

Even now, my body ached with the aftershocks of our passion, a bittersweet reminder of the life we had created, that same life that could be the end of us both.

"Are you certain?" he managed to ask, his voice barely a whisper as if hoping I was playing a cruel joke. I sighed in frustration, the reality of the situation pressing down on me.

A cold dread settled deep in my bones, how could something so beautiful between us have led to such terrifying consequences?

The gravity of my words hung between us, unspoken yet deafening.

"I have been sick every morrow for the last fortnight," I continued, my voice breaking the heavy silence. "I am sore, and I feel fatigued all the time."

"We were careful," he said, his voice filled with disbelief as if trying to convince himself that this couldn't be happening. The shock in his eyes mirrored my own fears. 

"I have not bled," I added, the confirmation settling between us like a heavy weight. The room was silent, save for the sound of my unsteady breathing.

"You are certain?" he asked again, his voice barely above a whisper. His question, though simple, cut through the silence with a sharp edge of desperation.

My head snapped towards him, my frustration boiling over. 

"Do you think I wouldn't notice if blood passes between my legs or not?" I retorted, my voice quivering with a mix of fear and anger. His eyes softened, the shock and concern evident in his gaze.

He reached out, trying to pull me into an embrace, but I stepped back, needing space to process. "I apologise," he murmured, his voice filled with regret.

Tears prickled in my eyes, and despite my best efforts to control them, they fell. The enormity of our situation was overwhelming, and I felt a surge of hopelessness.

Criston pulled me into a tight embrace and this time I let him, his strong arms offering a small measure of comfort. "We will figure this out," he whispered into my hair, his voice soothing but tinged with worry.

"But how?" I asked, my voice trembling. "What will we do?"

"We will find a way," he reassured me, his tone more confident now, though I could see the uncertainty in his eyes. His words brought some solace, but the fear still lingered. 

The consequences of our actions loomed over us, and the reality of the situation was impossible to ignore.

"We cannot let anyone find out," I said, pulling back to look into his eyes. "If they do..."

"I know," he interrupted gently, his gaze steady.

"No, you do not," I said, breaking free from his grasp. The distance between us felt vast, a chasm filled with fear and regret. 

"You are sworn to chastity. You have broken your vows, and I have sinned by laying with a man unwed," I continued, my voice rising with desperation. "The realm will want my head on a spike."

"You are the princess," he pointed out, trying to soothe my panic, but his words only intensified my dread.

"Precisely, which is why it matters so much," I countered. "My belly will grow, and the news will not be concealable forever." Each word felt like a dagger, cutting deeper into the fragile hope I clung to.

I could see the wheels turning in his mind as he struggled to find a solution. Suddenly, his eyes lit up with determination.

"Run away with me," he proposed. I looked at him incredulously, unsure if I had heard him correctly. The idea seemed ludicrous, a desperate fantasy.

"We can leave this all behind," he continued, his voice filled with earnestness. "Go somewhere no one will recognize you, and I will make an honest woman of you."

"You would do that?" I asked, my heart pounding in my chest. The prospect of leaving everything I had ever known was terrifying, yet his resolve gave me a flicker of hope. 

He nodded without hesitation.

"Princess, I would turn the realm upside down for you," he declared, his eyes burning with resolve. "And for our child," he finished, placing a hand gently on my stomach.

His touch was both comforting and grounding. The enormity of what he was suggesting sank in. We would have to leave behind everything we knew, my family, our titles, our lives as we knew them but as I looked into his eyes, filled with love and unwavering determination, I knew I could trust him.

"Where would we go?" I asked, my mind racing with possibilities. Each thought was a mix of fear and excitement, the unknown future both daunting and exhilarating.

"Anywhere but here," he replied, his voice steady. "We can travel to Essos, or even further. We will find a place where we can live in peace, away from the prying eyes of the court and the judgment of the realm."

The idea was both terrifying and exhilarating. To leave behind the only life I had ever known was a daunting prospect, but the thought of starting anew with Criston and our child filled me with hope.

"We would need to leave soon," I said, already planning in my mind. "Before my condition becomes unconcealable."

"We will," he assured me. "We will make the necessary preparations, gather what we need, and leave under the cover of night."

If we were caught, it wouldn't just be our love that would die, our lives would be forfeit, torn apart by the very people who once served us.

As we stood there, holding each other, the weight of our decision settled between us. It was a bold and dangerous plan, but it was the only way to protect our love and our future.

Criston leaned in, his lips brushing against mine in a tender, reassuring kiss. I felt a surge of emotion, and tears began to well up in my eyes. The kiss deepened, filled with unspoken promises and the shared burden of our secret. 

My tears now flowed freely, and I felt a mixture of relief and sorrow. Pulling back slightly, Criston wiped away my tears with his thumb, his touch gentle and soothing.

"Do not cry, my love," he whispered, his voice soft and earnest. "We will face this together. I promise you that."

A/n - At least someone's gonna have his baby!

[lionneee]

Little Princess

English is not my first language, please be kind

Masterlist

Taglist

•Warnings: PIV, kissing, taking of sexual themes, smut, age difference.•

First part <- Current part -> Next part

Modern!Father’s!Best!Friend!Aemond x Fem!Reader

{Request: Hello, can I request Aemond jealous? angry sex 🔥}

{Hello I hope you are good I just wanted to request that in your new series dad's best friend with modern Aemond that in the next chapter The girl and Aemond reunite and they have ANGRY ANGRY smut thank you 😊 ❤}

He wasn’t enjoying this one bit. He didn’t know what pissed him off more. If knowing he was wrong, if seeing you and not being able to touch you, or enduring to watch you laughing with your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend.

He could feel Alys’s gaze on him. She was his… friend. Occasional hook up, but he barely even considered her that way since he had fucked you.

Somehow for him there hasn’t been a comeback from your sweet, tight cunt.

Alys moved her hand on his knee, and it took all of his willpower to not move away.

He looked briefly at Alys, currently talking lightly with Criston about her vacations, but he quickly glanced back at you, then at your father. He hated being here now. He didn’t want to be here. 

Criston seemed mesmerized by the sight of Alys, and he could still hear you fucking laughing with that kid.

Only the idea of that boy touching you ignited fire in him.

He sighed and harshly interrupted the conversation between Alys and Criston.

“You approved this?” Aemond asked Criston as he nodded towards you, currently half laying on the couch, keeping your boyfriend’s wrists in your hands and away from you as he tried to tickle you.

“Approved? I don’t have to approve it. She’s twenty-two, and she looks happy with her choices. What more could I ask?” He chuckled as he looked at Aemond. “Besides, he’s not that bad.” Criston answered, glancing at you and smiling. “Why? You don’t like him?” Criston asked, to his dear friend. Aemond scoffed, looking out of the window.

“Please. I couldn’t care less.” Though, jealousy was burning in his chest and he was tense all over. He stood up from the kitchen table, not caring to give you another glance as he walked out to lit his cigarette, quickly followed by your father and Alys.

He brought a woman to your house.

Your house. A woman.

Did he fucked her too?

Were you just a little distraction?

He didn’t look worried about you breaking things with him, but he was always like that. It always looked like he didn’t care even if he did.

Did you misread him?

You were just a kid to him?

He had his fun, and he quickly moved to another woman.

You shouldn’t have broken things.

Yes you should have.

He was your father’s best friend.

“Alright, alright…” You sighed as you tried to stop him.

God, you hated when he started like this.

“I said that’s enough!” You raised your voice, effectively shutting down Eric, your boyfriend.

You weren’t even sure he was straight to be honest, but you didn’t even care. If he were, and wasn’t ready to come out yet you were happy to cover him. If he weren’t, you pity him.

You never had sex, not after what happened at that party a couple of weeks ago.

Eric simply served to look less miserable in Aemond's eye. You might have been the one to break things down, but it was clear you weren’t over him yet.

You missed him.

You missed him in every way.

You missed the way he spoke to you, the way he hugged you, praised and reassured you.

But you also missed how he fucked you, how he always filled you to the brim, how he never let go of you without making you come at least three times.

The void he left behind kept growing every time you saw him. Every time you get to admire his beauty from afar.

Now he was filling someone else’s void.

Your heart skipped a beat every time your eyes met his, every time your father warned you that he would be home with you, every time he spoke his name.

You fell for him. Hard.

And you were burning with jealousy.

And you didn’t know what to do about those feelings anymore, because despite your efforts, they refused to go away.

You sighed and ran a hand through your hair, looking at your father as he came back inside.

“Aemond’s gone?” You asked, and your father nodded, looking at you then at Eric with a smile.

“Eric, do you want to stay for dinner?” Your father asked him, but you answered for him, before Eric could say anything.

“He can’t.” You said quickly as you got up from the couch. “He was leaving just now.” You smiled and looked at Eric.

God you felt such a bitch.

“Yes…” Eric smiled as he looked at your father. “But thank you, sir.” 

“Oh, no need to thank me, boy. It’ll be for the next time.”

“Eric, I know… I know, I’m sorry…” You sighed as you paced back and forth in your room, holding the phone over your ear.

Break up through the phone. Pathetic.

“Trust me, it’s not you, it’s…” Oh so lame. “… it’s me.” You snaked your own forehead as soon as you finished the phrase. “I’m sorry Eric. They have been wonderful weeks, but it’s not what I need right now, okay? I’m sorry.”

Because what you needed was Aemond.

You groaned as you threw your phone on the bed, crying out right after and letting yourself fall on the bed as well. You heard your phone buzz again, and you knew you couldn’t handle another pleading from Eric.

“What?” You answered the phone, your voice stern.

“Hey kid, are you alright?”

“Dad! Yeah, sorry, just… nothing. Are you coming home?” You looked at the time, noticing how it was almost dinner time.

“Yeah, about that… I’m gonna be late. I think there’s been an accident or something and I’m stuck. I’ll call you once it’s solved okay? I think it’s gonna take a while.”

“Oh… okay, dad. Are you okay?”

“Yes, don’t worry. Aemond is coming though, he was supposed to bring food today.”

“Oh… Uhm, okay. Is… Alys coming too?”

“No, just Aemond.”

“I’ll wait for you then.” 

“Yeah, later kid.”

“Later dad.”

Fuck.

You heard the doorbell.

Fuck.

Any chances you could just ignore it? 

You head it again.

Guess not.

You let out a loud grunt as you stood up and walked downstairs, opening the door to Aemond, who was just finishing his cigarette.

“Hey.” You bite your lip, uncomfortable with the situation. Aemond looked at you up and down, taking the last puff before throwing away the cigarette butt.

“Is your father here?” He asked as he looked coldly at you.

Like you were no one. Nothing.

Even when you were younger, you never had this kind of treatment from him.

Did you ruin everything?

Just because you wanted to be a good person and not fuck your father’s best friend?!

He should be happy and proud that you salvaguarded his friendship with your father, since, apparently, he couldn’t.

So why was he such a dick?

“No. He ran into an accident on the way home. He’s stuck.” You explained with all the coldness you could gather. Aemond hummed as he looked at you, the bag with the take out in his hand. He suddenly pushed the door open, stepping inside, right in front of you, towering over you and forcing you to take a step back. You looked up at him surprised, and you saw him angry. You’ve never seen his face so hard, his eye so cold.

“Didn’t know you could be such a slut, princess.” He growled as he kicked the door shut behind him with a loud tud.

You looked at him enraged.

“Me? How dar-“ You choked on your own words as Aemond let the bag fall on the floor, grabbing you harshly by your throat.

“Yes, you. Getting on with that kid.” He growled as he squeezed your neck. “Does he know how much of a whore you can be? I don’t think so. If he did, he wouldn’t have been with you.” He hissed an inch from your face.

“You brought her to my house!” You hissed back. “I should have known better than let you fuck me. I should have known better than thinking you could care about me.”

“Shut up. I get he didn’t even know where to start to satisfy you.”

“Oh, he could satisfy me just fine.” You hissed back.

Such a lie. He didn’t even touch you.

“Oh, no, princess, I mean really satisfy you. Treat you how you really need to be treated. Fucked like only a man can fuck you.” He grinned. “Like only I can fuck you.”

“He did better.” You grinned as well.

Aemond stayed quiet for a moment, then her released your neck only to grab your hair and tug your head back harshly.

“Liar.” He whispered in your ear.

He bent down and threw you over his shoulder easily, making you scream.

“Aemond!” You hit his back, but that only caused Aemond to slap your ass, hard. You whined loudly and hit his back even more.

“You have no idea of what I'm going to do with you, princess. No idea.” He growled as he walked quickly in your room, throwing you not so gently on your bed. You primped yourself up on your elbows, looking at him with a glare. He stood at the feet of the bed, looking down at you as he started taking off your belt.

“You think you can just say to me how you got fucked by someone else?” He asked, you could hear the anger and frustration in his voice. He took off his belt and grabbed your hands, making you fall back in the bed. He sat on you to keep you down. “You have no idea what mess you’ve put yourself in.” He smirked devilishly, and when you saw him wrapping the belt around your wrists you started squirming immediately, trying to free yourself.

“Stay. Still.” He growled as he held your wrist tighter, tugging then towards him to intensify his word. He tied your wrist quickly, and used the belt to pull you up as he stood up from the bed, making you stand as well. He backed off a bit, then he pushed you down on the floor, pressing his hand on your shoulder.

“Let’s use that mouth for something better than telling lies, uh?” He unbuttoned his pants, pushing them down along with his boxers.

You were met with the sight of his cock, still soft, hanging just inches from your face. You swallowed as you could feel your mouth watering already. He put a hand on your head, gripping your hair to make you lean your head back so you met his eye. His chest was rising repeatedly because of his deep, heated breathing. He moved your face, bending his knees and pushing his hips towards you as he directed your mouth to his balls.

“Come on, princess, use that mouth like I know you can.” He groaned as he felt your tongue on his skin. He looked down at you with his lips parted as he started jerking his cock over your face. He then moved your head as he directed the tip towards your lips.

You looked up at him angrily, wrapping your lips around him, letting your teeth touch his shaft.

“Watch it.” He glared down at you, his gaze a warning to not push him any further. You rolled your eyes as you started moving your head back and forth, your lips wetting and caressing his cock, but he quickly stopped you.

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?!” He growled. He let out his breath sharply, pushing your head forward until you gagged around him, swallowing repeatedly, trying to fight the urge to throw up.

“Your daddy has been soft on you, princess. That won’t happen with me. I’ll give you the treatment you really deserve.” He kept your head still with both his hands as he started thrusting his hips, making his cock move in and out of your mouth, testing your gag reflex repeatedly.

“I’m not your daddy. But I’ll make sure you learn your lesson.”

You whined as started deliberately fucking your mouth, making drool spill from your mouth, wetting the floor beneath you. You brought your tied hands to his calves, gripping it tightly on him as you kept gagging.

“Had enough?” He pulled away, putting his hand under your chin and tilting your head up. You panted as you looked up at him, your brows arched and your chin wet with your own saliva.

“Oh, princess, you look wrecked…” He chuckled, wiping away the saliva. He bent to grab your wrists again, pushing you back up on your feet.

“What is it? Already went silent?” He smiled as he pushed you back on the bed, grabbing your hips and quickly turning your body so you were laying face down. He pulled your pants down along with your pants and pushed your shirt up to your wrists.

“Not so whining anymore about some woman I had by my side.” He laughed at you as he slapped your butt again, looking at the print of his hand.

“But when I’ll be fine with you, you’ll forget about it, don’t worry. Forget about Alys, forget about that stupid kid.” He hissed as he pushed your hips up, forcing you on your knees. He pulled your panties by the side, looking at the string of wetness coming from your core. 

“My, my, what happened here, princess?” He smirked. You tried to pull yourself up on your hands, but he pushed you back down, slapping your core.

“I said stay still.” He warned again. “You won’t have to move anymore. Let me handle you… as I want.” He grabbed the cheeks of your ass tightly and spread them apart, looking down at you, admiring the sweet heaven hidden between your legs.

“You’re mine.” He growled as he rubbed the tip of his cock along your slit. “You’ll remember that, I’ll make sure of it.” Said that, he grabbed his cock and pushed it past your folds, meeting your warmth and tightness, moaning as he pushed all the way in, until he completely disappeared inside you. you jerked away with a whine as his tip touched so deep inside you, the feeling almost unpleasant.

“I said.” He grabbed your hips and brought you back immediately, your ass pressed to his lap. “Stay.” He thrusted once, hard and rough, your body would have jolted forward if it wasn’t for his firm grip. “Still.” Another thrust. Another whine. He started moving faster, his pace building quickly as his thrusts were never less punishing. 

It almost seemed like he wanted to print his form inside you.

“Ah — Ah! Aemond —“ You gasped, breathless by the force of his hits. “S-slow down —“ You panted.

“No. You’re mine. Mine. Mine to kiss. Mine to hold. Mine to touch. Mine to taste. Mine to fuck until you can’t fucking walk anymore.” His voice started to sound more like a snarl, he was fucking you like a gel

real beast, pressing you against the mattress as he tried to deliver his cock always deeper, deeper. 

He grabbed the back of your neck and you turned your head to the side as he pressed you down, his other hand moving to your stomach.

“Who is fucking you, mh?” He squeezed your neck, demanding an answer.

“F-fuck you —“ You breathed out. 

Aemond had never been like this with you.

He always fucked you fast and hard, yes.

But he was always nice with his words, with his hands he caressed you, he made you feel praised, he made you feel like a good girl.

But this, this never happened.

But you were not going to complain.

Because as you knew he could feel it in his hand, you could feel it too, his cock piercing your stomach every time he reached so deep inside you.

“Say it. Who is fucking you? Who is inside you, right now?” 

He pushed you further on the mattress, changing his position, planting his feet in the bed besides your knees, his hands squeezing the skin of your hips tightly as he bent his knees to keep pounding on you, slipping deeper, able to thrust harder.

“Ah — Fuck —“ You gasped, your voice strained and chocked. You even found it difficult to talk.

“Say it. Say my name!” He was completely lost in the pleasure, in his anger, and his need to take you. Take you like you were a whore.

“A — Aemond —“ You cried out, as your feet curled, your body started shaking and your walls started to clench around him. You let out a loud moan, clenching your eyes shut and gritting your teeth.

“F-fuck I’m gonna come!” You cried out, you felt the tears reaching your eyes from how good it felt.

You’ve never felt like this.

You’ve never felt this good.

What you hated the most, was that he was right.

No one knew how to fuck you properly.

No one knew how to fuck you like he could.

“You want to come?” He chuckled. “You haven’t earned it yet.” He pushed you down in the bed, standing up above you as he pulled out.

“No —“ You cried, breathless. You curled up in the bed, suddenly, that void was eating you out again. “A-Aemond…” You whined as you turned around, looking at him as he grinned down at you, pleased with your desperation.

“Come on, say it.” He whispered, urging you to say what he was waiting to hear for so long. You pressed your lips together as you looked at him with your eyes full of tears.

“P-please —“ You sobbed. “Please. I want you.” 

“Oh, there she is. There’s my little princess.” He smiled as he knelt in front of you. He caressed your face, wiping some tears away.

“What do you want, princess? Say it.” He whispered.

“I-I want you — Want you inside me..” You sobbed as you bent your legs, bringing your knees close to your chest, slowly widening them. You saw his eye sparkling at the sight.

“Want you to fuck me.” You whispered. You saw his gaze darkening as he looked down at your cunt, caressing your folds with his fingers, making you squirm.

“Who do you want?” He looked back up at you, watching you closely.

“I want you.” You stated firmly. “I-I want Aemond Targaryen…” You moaned loudly as he slowly guided his cock back inside you, taking his time to push it all in as he sat in his haunches. “I want my father’s best friend — Ah!” Aemond suddenly started thrusting inside you, back to his wild pace, at your words.

“Yes, princess. You want me.” He panted, as he gripped your thighs to pull you back to him, making you meet every one of his movements, moaning. “Why?” He grabbed your cheeks in his hand, forcing you to look at him.

“Be-because no one — No one can fuck me like you do!” You squirmed, your back arching, making you slip from his grip as your eyes rolled in the back of your head, the top of your head pressing on the mattress as the rest of your body lifted from it. Aemond’s fingers digged in your skin as he securely kept you in place, moving continuously inside, out, then back inside you, never giving you a break.

“Oh — Oh Gods! Gods, I’m gonna come! I’m gonna come — Aemond —“ You started breathing quickly as you felt your orgasm about to explode on you.

“Go on. Go on, fucking wet my cock.” He growled as he forced himself to keep his eye open to see you come apart under him. You whined loudly, your body convulsing as you reached the end, waves of pleasure taking the breath out of you as you clenched your hands in the sheets.

“God, yes — Yes, princess, like that — Fuck!” He moaned as he moved over you, resting in his forearms beside your head, pressing his forehead on yours as he gave the last few thrust before following you in a bliss of pleasure with a moan.

“God —“ He panted as he stilled completely, both of your breathing heavy as you both closed your eyes, trying to regain yourself after such an intense moment. He slowly moved his hand up to free your hands, throwing his belt on the floor. Aemond rolled on your side, carefully to slip out gently to not make you feel uncomfortable, then he pulled you in his arms.

You closed your eyes, feeling finally full again.

“Princess.” Aemond called you as he patted your arm. You opened your eyes and sat up, bringing your sheets with you to cover your body.

“Dad?” You mumbled as you looked with wide eyes at the door, where your father was staring at you and Aemond.

Taglist: @ka1afbr @cynic-spirit @ladythornofrivia @zenka69 @queenofthekeep @adorewhatever @diannnnsss @kotadislikesthissite @iloveallmyboys @valyrianflower @dixie-elocin @gelacat0413 @quinquinquincy @mamawiggers1980 @darylandbethfanforever9 @rhaethoughts @believeinthefireflies95 @urfavnoirette @summerposie @sk1mah1 @queenofshinigamis

[hotdaemondtargaryen]

FABIEN FRANKEL AND MATT SMITH DISCUSS THEIR CHARACTERS FOR FORBES MAGAZINE.

frankel talking about criston and daemon:

“They both have a great kind of violence inside of them, and they’re good at it.”

“So, with that kind of mindset, you’re therefore drawn to putting yourself in situations where you can let that violence out, to some extent.”

“I think they’re also kind of both suffering great loss.”

“I think weirdly for Criston, it’s like his loss of freedom.”

“I think once he left being a solider and became a member of King’s Landing, he lost his freedom in his head.”

“Then obviously for Daemon, it’s his brother - loss and violence, I suppose.”

matt smith added:

“I would sort of echo those sentiments, really.”

“I think strangely, as well, when you look at them, they are both at times - they are both kind of frightened little boys, aren’t they, without any real guidance.”

while seated beside frankel during our conversation, matt smith said to his house of the dragon co-star:

“You never really hear about your sort of family back home at all, do you?”

“Perhaps they were quite isolated as young people.”

“There’s a scene in the first season where [our characters] get together and there’s a mini sort of standoff, and I think there’s a recognition in them both that they’re probably more similar than they let on.”

matt smith on daemon targaryen in s2:

“Well, I don’t really judge his decisions too much.”

“I just try and engage in the behavior as truthfully as I can on behalf of him, so to speak.”

“I don’t think, ultimately, he’s very interested in power.”

“I think he’s more interested in chaos and disorder and the thrill of - I don’t know, it’s like being on a jet ski with an axe in your hand, riding towards an army.”

“He lives for whatever that feeling is, if you could kind of bottle that up.”

“When he’s not feeling something akin to that, he just causes problems.”

“He’s outlandish.”

when asking frankel for his thought process as an acting partner with olivia cooke during those heated scenes, he said:

“I don’t want to speak too much to sort of what Olivia and I have spoken about, because I think that it’s for the audience to decide what they see as the sort of justification for the relationship - be that the genuine love or infatuation, or whether it’s a strategic move on either of their parts, because there’s benefits for both of them, I suppose.”

“What I will say is those scenes, in general, really come down to having an amazing director and Clare Kilner, who helmed sort of the majority of mine and Olivia’s kind of romantic-type scenes, made that such a collaborative experience and such an easy one.”

“Thankfully, Olivia is a great friend and very easy to work with.”

i was curious as to what smith and frankel would say to their somewhat enigmatic characters, if only they could.

instead of answering for his own character first, smith jokingly said of frankel’s criston:

Well, I’d go up to Criston Cole and I’d go, ‘Mate, you need to change your wardrobe. You’re always in that.’

frankel added with his message for criston:

“I think I’d say - take a holiday, son.”

“I think he’s just like been - he needs to get out of there for a moment.”

“That trip to Essos sounds pretty lovely, really.”

“Get himself some fresh oranges and make a mimosa.”

matt smith concluded:

“I’d say to Daemon - have you thought of going dark?”

“Hair color, really.”

“Have you thought of a ‘new hair, new you’ sort of thing?”

“It might change your perspective.”