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cherienymphe · 2 years

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The Dragon’s Den (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, loss of virginity, kidnapping

➥ banner by @maysdigitalarts | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

summary: your engagement to Laenor Velaryon is abruptly cut short when Daemon Targaryen steals you away.

The prince’s horse was slow to trot towards where you sat, his dragon shaped helmet resting atop his head haughtily. It was a cool autumn day, the promise of winter in the air, and you ran your hand along your arm. Jousting tournaments had never held much of your interest, much too violent for your tastes, but you did not want to offend your betrothed and future family.

Said young man was seated next to you, his arm brushing against yours as you shifted under the weight of a gaze that did not belong to your intended. You glanced away, only briefly, before your attention was forced towards the front once more. The silver-haired prince had paused in his journey, and his lilac gaze rested on you as your eyes met his.

“Might I request the favor of my beloved cousin’s future bride?”

His words should not have shocked you, but in all the jousting tournaments you had been forced to attend, not once had anyone ever asked for your favor. You realized that your hesitation was bordering on rude, and so you glanced towards Laenor, your future husband, and only stood when he sent you a small but encouraging smile. The crown of roses felt heavy in your hand as you descended, approaching the prince who had so humbly asked for your favor.

Prince Daemon Targaryen certainly lived up to every rumor you’d had the misfortune of hearing. He was bold and cunning and almost brutally honest to a fault. The day in which you arrived, he had been the only one to fail in greeting you. After all, how could he when he was, as princess Rhaenyra had so eloquently put it, ‘knee deep in whores’? She spoke much more candidly than you, and you had laughed.

Prince Daemon’s absence had not offended you.

You looked down at him with a small, polite smile, gingerly offering him the flower crown. He took his time in reaching for it, the barest of playful smirks on his pink lips. It was a simple request of your favor, but like many times the prince had addressed you since your arrival, you felt like that was not all it was.

“I wish you luck, prince Daemon,” you told him, letting the floral arrangement slide onto his jousting pole. “May you walk away victorious.”

He held your gaze with a nod, and when you sat back down, you released a breath you had not realized you were holding. You made yourself as comfortable as you could be in these circumstances and tried not to focus on the display of violence before you. Your gaze found your lap instead as you did not want to see any more evidence of prince Daemon’s brutality when he already unnerved you enough as is.

What a rare little dove you have found.

Even now, you thought it a strange way to compliment Laenor on the match. What else had you been able to do but smile? So, you did, even thanking him, that smile only faltering slightly when he took your hand and brought the back of it to his lips. They had been soft against your skin, and you were still convincing yourself that they had not lingered that long.

The sound of a screeching horse followed by a loud thud drew your attention. Your stomach turned at the sight of prince Daemon’s opponent trapped beneath his animal. He had won, that much was clear, but despite the sound of applause that surrounded you, you could not bring yourself to join in. You leaned in towards Laenor, telling him that you felt unwell before insisting he remained.

He did not listen, and a large part of you felt warmed by his insistence on leaving with you. A guard was close by as you both made your exit, and you did not spare another glance as prince Daemon basked in the praise.

“You are not much for violence.”

You looked at Laenor with a smile before shaking your head.

“I am a bit softhearted that way,” you chuckled. “…and weak stomached.”

He laughed with you.

“Daemon has certainly taken a liking to you.”

His comment seemed to come out of nowhere, and you faltered, throwing him a look that he evidently found amusing.

“I mean nothing by the comment, I assure you. Daemon is certainly…Daemon, but to me it seems like he’s officially welcoming you to the family. You would only need to worry if he did not acknowledge you, at all.”

“How relieving…”

You looked away, studying the structures around you. It was all so different from your home, and you wondered when you would grow used to it

“I do have a lot of respect for Daemon though…”

Laenor’s tone had you looking to him only to find his gaze already on you.

“…and I would trust him with you.”

He did not say it plainly, but you both knew what he was hinting at.

You were sure that when your parents arranged a marriage for you with Laenor Velaryon, they did not imagine that the young man’s romantic tastes lied elsewhere. Although your marriage would not be a true marriage due to your lack of certain body parts, and too much of others, you still looked forward to it for Laenor was kind and respectful and proved to be a great friend.

That was more than most women got.

“Prince Daemon…overwhelms me,” you replied, keeping it respectful. “No disrespect to you and your love for him, but if I were to take a lover, there is little doubt in my mind that it would not be him.”

Your future husband laughed at that, taking no offense. The sound made your heart clench because in truth, your wariness of prince Daemon had much more to do with than simple overwhelming. Your eyes found your feet as you walked, and you shuddered at the memory of a violet gaze.

Prince Daemon’s way of welcoming you to the family was certainly interesting.

It did not matter where you were, but he always seemed to find you. If princess Rhaenyra had her bard show you a song near her favorite tree, it no longer surprised you to look over your shoulder and find her uncle standing watch. A simple lesson about the history of Old Valyria from your future mother-in-law as you sat outside, and you could look over and find the prince adjacent to you on the other side.

Even your solitude was not sacred.

You read your books in your chambers now.

Only time would tell if you looked for comfort outside of this marriage, but you knew that it would not be with the Rogue Prince.

“I believe that I owe you my gratitude.”

You were startled but composed yourself in time to face the white-haired man before you. His dark attire stood out against his fair hair and skin, peculiar-colored eyes popping under the glint of the sun. You had not even heard him approach, and you had long wondered if he simply moved that way or if it was intentional.

You only just registered his words as he fell into step beside you.

“Gratitude? What for?”

There was a hint of smile on the prince’s face, and you struggled to hold his gaze. He often looked at you like you were the most precious thing he had ever seen, and not in a way that was kind. You felt incredibly small around him. Incredibly…stupid.

“For the victory in my match, of course.”

You forced a laugh at that, looking away.

“I find it hard to believe that had anything to do with me. Laenor speaks highly of your skills, so you would have won that match with or without my favor,” you told him with a shrug.

A deep hum escaped him, and it almost sounded tinged with humor.

“…and what else does Laenor say about me?”

You felt as if you were being baited, only you did not know how.

“Your talents in combat mostly. I think he looks up to you a great deal,” you quietly replied. “It’s sweet.”

You continued before prince Daemon could say another word.

“I am actually on my way to have tea with him, right now. It is relieving to have a husband who will also be a good friend.”

The man beside you laughed at that, and you frowned at him.

“Yes, because that is what marriage is all about. Friendship,” he mused with a small sneer.

Your frown deepened.

“I hear that you have a wife. Do you not at least enjoy her company?”

That only made him laugh harder.

“No,” he drawled. “My bronze bitch was not of my choosing and where she resides, the men are known to fuck the sheep instead of the women. The sheep are far prettier, this I promise you.”

His words had your eyes widening for a multitude of reasons, and for a brief moment you had allowed yourself to forget how much you did not care for prince Daemon.

“How awful,” you breathed. “I never bought into the idea that marriage is simply a duty and destined to be a miserable one at that.”

“Oh, but it is.”

He had stopped, forcing you to do so as well, and you blinked at him as he stepped closer.

“Marriage is a political contract with a purpose to form alliances and strengthen houses,” he lowly told you, tilting his head at you like you were an ignorant child.

You jumped a bit when he reached for your hair, the sheer shawl on your head slipping down from the movement. Prince Daemon’s gaze was drawn to the movement, and you were frozen in place as he stepped closer, studying you in the same way you knew he often did when you were not looking.

“It is a duty, but outside of that…we fuck who we want and take out fill of whomever we want,” he whispered.

You moved to step away when he reached for the light fabric on your shoulder, gently pulling it back atop your head, adjusting it to his liking. You swallowed when he evenly met your gaze again.

“You best hurry along. I am sure you do not want to keep Laenor waiting.”

You did just that without hesitation, arm brushing against the fabric of his clothes as you did so.

Laenor spoke nothing of your tardiness, he was easygoing that way, and you were thankful. You apologized, nonetheless. If he noticed how uncharacteristically quiet you were, then he made no comment. You were thankful for that more than anything else because you were not sure you would be able to lie to him, and how were you to tell him that the cousin he worshipped made you uncomfortable in ways that even you had a hard time deciphering?

When Laenor threw you a mischievous smile, you knew what tonight would entail.

He often snuck you into the heart of the city at night, showing you what life was like outside of these walls. The first night, your nerves had gotten the better of you, and it had come to an early end. You had profusely apologized to which Laenor had brushed off. Even back home, you had been horribly sheltered, and so in an effort to remedy that, you had convinced him to sneak you out for a second time.

When you eventually made it back to your chambers to change, you stopped in your tracks at the sight of flowers on your bed. You surmised that Laenor had sent them at first before you realized that they were not just any flowers, but roses. Nor were they just any roses, but upon closer inspection, they were fearfully familiar.

A familiar crown of roses laid in the center of your bed, and your lips parted, a shiver traveling through you.

You supposed that prince Daemon had more right to any room here than you did, but the thought of him in your chambers did not sit right with you. It would do no good to question the guard on why he had been let in. That left no explanation as to why he had returned this to you though. It was not customary, unheard of, in fact, and your confusion and wariness grew.

You did not mention the strange occurrence to Laenor after sneaking out through a hidden passageway. His mood was much too contagious, and you would rather forget it for the time being anyway. Laenor’s hand was tight around yours as he led you through the dense crowds, catchy music filling your ears and buzzing through your body. Seemingly pulling some coins out of nowhere, he bought you some ale.

He let out a light laugh when you coughed.

“Still not used to it, eh?”

“Perhaps, one day soon,” you told him, voice strained.

He happily took it from you, drinking the rest, and you swallowed when your eyes passed over a couple in the shadows. It was not the first time you had seen such open displays of lovemaking here, but you were sure it was something you would never get used to. You quickly looked away, eyes finding the ground as you focused on where you put your feet.

Laenor took you to a play, a pastime you had quickly come to realize they loved. A dance performance was after that, the drum solos thudding in time with your heart. You reared back a bit, a smile on your face when a man spit fire out of his mouth, and you joined in with the clapping, awestruck.

When you glanced around, flames briefly glinted off hair that was so distinctly bright. For a moment, your heart skipped a beat, and once you blinked, it was gone. That did not stop you from looking around though, much too distracted to notice the small fight that was beginning to break out. While you tried to convince yourself that you had not seen prince Daemon Targaryen, the crowd seemed to rush at you all at once as the violent displays grew.

Laenor pulled on your hand, and you reached for him with your other just as the crowd separated you. People were going everywhere, and the emptiness on your hand made your heart race. You could hear your future husband calling your name, and you struggled to follow the crowd and find him. The sound of metal piercing flesh was unmistakable, and you struggled to swallow your panic.

People were running every which way, and you frantically looked around. You might have attempted to head back to the castle, but you could not even tell which way was which. You were on the steps, and to your left, you could see men fighting, and to your right was a mess of bodies trying to push past each other.

You stuck to the walls, trying to avoid getting sucked in to either when a hand covered your mouth, and an arm snaked around your frame, pinning your arms at your side.

You were pulled into a small alcove in the wall, a firm chest pressed to your back as the stranger held you tightly. His hand covered both your mouth and nose, silencing your terrified gasp and yelp. His arm kept you pinned to him, and your heart leapt in your chest as you struggled for only a moment before a familiar voice shushed you.

He was the last person you wanted to see, but in these circumstances, you were thrilled.

His hand slowly slid away from your mouth, cupping your chin with long fingers grazing your neck. He shushed you again, a soothing sound as his other arm moved, hand traveling towards where your heart raced. You were sure that he could feel it against his palm, and you felt his face pressed into your hair from where your hood had fallen in the commotion.

“The way your heart beats…it is a wonder you are still standing.”

His lips brushed your neck as he said this, breath hitting your skin. Still fighting to calm down, you reached up and curled your hands around his arm.

“Prince Daemon… Laenor…I lost him,” you breathed. “We must find him.”

“Laenor knows these streets like the back of his hand. He will be quite alright. You, on the other hand…”

His hold on you was still tight, and you were just about to suggest leaving when a man fell onto the steps before you. It was as if you blinked, and suddenly a rusted piece of metal was imbedded into his neck. A shuddering gasp escaped you, and you hurriedly turned your head away, eyes tightly shut.

Prince Daemon tightened his arm around you, fingers splayed over your heart before turning you both around. Your forehead grazed the wall as he trapped you between it and him. His fingers brushed along your neck, just underneath your jaw, and you finally opened your eyes to stare at the wall.

You could smell the herbs that had been put into his bath water, still clinging to his skin and hair. His silver locks brushed along your shoulders and arm as he pressed himself against you, his breathing falling in sync with your own, chest rising and falling with yours. You could hear the man dying next to you, and you shuddered.

“That could have easily been you,” the prince murmured, and his words made you grow cold.

He let go of your jaw, tracing patterns against your neck instead, and you lost track of how long you both hid there. You tried not to give it much thought that you were hiding with Daemon Targaryen, the prince pressed against you so firmly that you could probably be mistaken for lovers. You could both feel and hear his breath in your hair, and there was a moment where you heard him deeply inhale.

When the commotion had finally died down, he stepped back, pulling you with him. His arm was still beneath your chest, the other coming down to curl around your waist as he forced you along.

“Do not look down,” he ordered, and there was no need for him to tell you twice.

The stench of blood was heavy in the air.

When you made it back, approaching one of the back exits of the castle, you saw Laenor. He looked relieved at the sight of you, eyes wide as he rushed down to meet you both. Prince Daemon slowly released when Laenor reached for you, almost reluctantly so, and you dazedly turned to thank him, leaning into Laenor.

“Thank you, Daemon. I am indebted to you, truly,” Laenor said, briefly checking to make sure you were alright.

The prince merely hummed in response, violet eyes meeting yours, and glinting in a way that made you realize how relieved you actually were to be out of his arms. His lips twitched with the beginnings of a crooked smile, and it was only when Laenor snuck you back into your chambers did you realize you never asked his cousin about the flowers.

Caraxes slept soundly before you, his breath hot and warming your face, fluttering your dress. He was much larger than Seasmoke, much more terrifying too, and you swallowed down a humorless chuckle. How funny it was to be marrying into the house of the dragon, a family of dragon riders, and you were deathly afraid of every one.

Your eyes roamed over his red scales in awe. It was not as if you had not witnessed the prince riding him before, but he was so far away then and looked so much smaller in the sky. Even though you were still rather far away, the sheer size of him was not able to be put into words. With a dragon such as this on his side, you did not know how anyone ever got the courage to stand up to prince Daemon.

Just then the beast shifted, his loud breathing halting as he slowly opened his eyes. Your own widened in fear, heart dropping to your stomach. Caraxes lifted his head slightly, and your lips parted, softly exhaling before realizing that it was not you that had triggered his awakening.

“Magnificent…isn’t he…?”

The dragon’s rider spoke from behind you, and you looked over your shoulder to find him leaning against the wall. His gaze fondly rested on his dragon before it traveled to you, eyes narrowing just the slightest as he studied you. You wondered how long he had been there.

“He is that,” you eventually agreed.

Before you could say anything else, the prince pushed himself to stand straight before striding towards you, white hair fluttering around his shoulders. You noted that he looked dressed for a ride. He walked as if he were going past you, but you stumbled when his hand reached out to grab your arm.

“Wait-.”

You cut yourself off, digging your feet into the stone beneath them, and prince Daemon stared at you.

“What are you doing?”

“Come,” was his simple reply, tone leaving no room for argument.

His strength was revealed to you when he pulled you along with ease, and you could not stop yourself from hiding behind him partially when Caraxes lifted his head more. Your free hand gripped his arm, the one that held your left one, and prince Daemon briefly glanced at you over his shoulder.

“Does he frighten you?” he mockingly asked, a small smirk on his lips.

“If I told you no, it would be a lie, so…”

You looked away from him and back to the dragon before you.

“Fear is a simple way of putting it,” you continued. “He is beautiful and majestic, and all of those things…but if he wished it, he could kill me instantly, and there would not be a thing I could do about it.”

You stared into Caraxes’ eye.

“Yes, he terrifies me, but I also revere him. Like…like a god,” you whispered.

When you glanced at the prince, his gaze was already on you, and his smirk grew the longer he stared at you.

“He will not harm you,” he told you, slowly forcing you closer.

You wanted to ask him how he was so sure of such a thing, but you remembered princess Rhaenys, your future mother-in-law, explaining to you how dragons and their riders were connected like one. Was prince Daemon so sure Caraxes would never hurt you because he would never hurt you? You did not believe that.

No, you did not think that the prince would stab you or hit you…

…but there were other ways for a man to harm a woman.

“Slowly,” he gently urged, pressing your hand to the dragon’s hide.

You took a deep shuddering breath when Caraxes moved his head, forcing you back just a tad. Prince Daemon’s hand covered yours, keeping it in place, and you watched as the beast slowly blinked, as if he enjoyed it. He blew a breath, disrupting your hair and moving your dress with it.

“He likes you,” the prince whispered from behind you.

His chest grazed your back, and you swallowed.

“What a relief,” you breathed.

The man behind you chuckled at that, and you felt frozen in place as he left. You faintly noted the sound of clanging metal, and Caraxes continued to stare at you. You slowly pulled your hand away when he lifted his head more, and as the dragon seemed to stretch, you realized that prince Daemon had unchained him. A question must have been in your eyes when he rounded the dragon.

“I take it my cousin has never taken you on a ride…”

Your eyes widened, and you felt almost physically ill at the thought.

“No,” you answered with a shake of your head. “…and I have no…”

You trailed off when prince Daemon reached for you, forcing you along.

“Prince Daemon, I cannot-.”

“We are to be family soon,” he hummed, forcing you closer to the dragon. “Drop the titles.”

It came out harsher than you would have liked, and you frowned.

“Daemon…I do not want-.”

You cut yourself with a slight hiss, Daemon’s grip almost painful on your wrist. You were shaking, and he rubbed your arm as he forcibly guided you up onto the beast. You trembled the whole way, and even if you gathered the courage to get back down, Daemon was close behind. He climbed up behind you, a firm hand on your waist as he settled himself on the saddle behind you.

“Daemon…”

The prince seemed to ignore your protests, grabbing the reigns, painfully close as his hair brushed your shoulders. When Caraxes began to move, you were forced to hang on. You swayed as he walked out into the sun, and your heart had yet to settle in your chest. In fact, it only sped up, and you felt like it was going to explode as Caraxes climbed the Red Keep and took flight.

The wind whipped by you, and on instinct, you closed your eyes. It was hard to even fathom how high up you were. You held on tight, skin straining over your knuckles, and you finally opened your eyes. It did not seem real at first, almost like a dream, and then your lips parted in awe.

The city and all its inhabitants were so tiny as Caraxes soured over them. You did not know if sitting on his back made him appear larger or smaller than when you had been facing him. The air felt cool against your face, and you had almost forgotten about prince Daemon entirely until he shifted, chest brushing against your back.

The longer Caraxes stayed in the air, the more your fear waned. It was a task to keep your eyes on one thing at once, so enamored with how the world looked from the view of a dragon. Daemon guided Caraxes so close to the water that the flap of his wings caused a light spray, wetting your face, and as much as you had come to enjoy the experience, you were relieved when Caraxes seemed to be landing.

He circled a giant dark castle, and if your memory served you right, then this was what princess Rhaenys had described as Dragonstone. When Caraxes landed, one of Daemon’s hands gripped your waist as you both swayed, and he continued to hold you as he helped you down. Still unsure about where you were, you asked him.

“We are at Dragonstone,” he told you, a small smile on his face as he stroked Caraxes.

You looked around in wonder, taking it in before Daemon called for you. For some reason, the sound of your name leaving his lips had you flinching, and when you turned to face him, he held a gloved hand out towards you. Looking around and realizing there was not much choice, you reached for his arm as you approached him.

Caraxes was left to his own devices as you went inside, and you briefly looked over your shoulder at him with a slight frown.

“What do dragons eat?” you wondered.

Evidently, Daemon found your question amusing for there was a humorous smirk on his lips when you looked at him. When he turned his head to look at you, lilac gaze holding your own, his eyes glinted in a way that spoke of a joke that you did not understand.

“Whatever they want,” he lowly told you.

He stared at you for what felt like a long time. You looked away, supposing that made sense, and accepted this impromptu tour of Dragonstone. The fact that you were alone with Daemon only just registered to you as earlier with Caraxes hardly counted to you. There were a few guards around, and the further you walked into the castle, the more your nervousness started to grow.

“We should be returning, now. I had intended to meet with princess Rhaenys,” you told him.

Daemon simply smirked at you, and you blinked at that.

“Such a dutiful daughter-in-law,” he mused although it did not sound like a compliment falling from his lips. “…and what an even more dutiful wife you will make.”

You did not know how to respond to that, so you simply did not. When two guards granted you both entrance into a room, you lingered near the door after Daemon had all but pulled you inside. You looked around at the spacious chambers, eyes trailing to the large windows on the other side.

“It is quite beautiful, isn’t it?”

He was referring to the view, and you nervously smiled.

“Yes, I suppose. I really must-.”

“Tell me,” he interrupted. “Has my cousin made a woman of you yet?”

You blanched at the personal and vulgar question, looking away with a scoff. Daemon found it funny, grinning at you when you looked back to him.

“No, I imagine he would not. You are one cock short in order for him to take you to bed,” he said, pouring himself some wine.

You were surprised that he knew that about Laenor, and you cleared your throat.

“My future marriage bed is hardly any of your business. This has been…pleasant, but I really must-.”

“I disgust you.”

He said it so surely that you did not even think to deny it for it was true. He drank his wine and studied you over the rim of the cup. You fiddled with your fingers.

“You find great pleasure in things that…unnerve me,” you chose your words carefully.

“Such as violence.”

It was more of a statement than a question, and he continued when you remained quiet.

“I recall how quickly you left the jousting tournament when I knocked that poor excuse of a knight off his horse,” he chuckled.

You felt like you were being toyed with, and you did not like it.

“You were quite cruel in how you went about it. Much like you are being now. I do not know why you have brought me here, but-.”

“I have brought you here because I want you here…”

His tone gave you pause, and the way he stared you down scared you.

“I… I do not-.”

“My dear cousin can easily find some other woman to play house with,” he waved off, and your jaw dropped.

“Excuse me?”

“What a waste you would be to him,” he said, walking towards you. “Someone as rare as yourself.”

He grabbed your hand, but not without a fight from you, and you dug your feet into the floor.

“I must go back!”

“…and how will you get back?” he rounded on you with a mocking smile. “Do you think that you could ride Caraxes? Do you think you know the way back?”

He softly laughed at you, pulling you closer.

“Daemon-.”

He kissed you then, soft lips covering yours and shocking you. He did not allow you to pull away, and your eyes watered as his intentions became clear. One hand pressed into the back of your neck, the other still holding one of yours, both keeping you in place. You felt dazed as he ravished you, touching you in ways that you had never been touched.

You were trembling, and your feet tripped over one another as he pushed you further into the room. It was not hard to see that he was moving you towards the bed, and tears kissed your eyes. Would he really force you? Was this the same cousin that Laenor looked up to and spoke so highly of?

Daemon was equal parts desire and equal parts vicious as he tore at your dress. You were a sobbing and squirming mess beneath him as you attempted to fight him off, and although you tried not to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry, it could not be helped. The reality of what was about to happen, and your future afterwards, was staring you right in the face.

It seemed so simple to him to just…steal you away. Had he though? Yes, you had climbed onto his dragon with him, some might say, but under duress is what others might say. You had not known that a simple dragon ride was truly a ruse for a kidnapping. Despite everything that you had heard of Daemon, it seemed that you had given him too much credit.

His relation to Laenor was not a reason to trust him, after all.

When you gasped in pain, nails drawing blood from his alabaster skin, you wanted to curse him. Your chest arched and your legs trembled, and it was impossible to blink the tears away fast enough. Your core protested at every push of his hips, and you turned your head away. His lips found your cheek before traveling to your jaw, trailing kisses along your neck. All the while, he thrust into you, hands on you and grunts leaving his mouth with every movement. You did not know if your gradual slickness was from blood or something else entirely, and you were afraid of either answer.

Your engagement to Laenor was finished. Over, and you did not want to think on how this would affect Daemon’s standing with House Velaryon. After all, he had stolen and defiled their son’s betrothed, and if there was some small part of you that hoped this was all one big jest or even a situation you could come from unscathed and with your engagement intact, it was long gone.

The longer Daemon pushed himself into you at a torturously slow pace, bare chest brushing yours, the more you could feel that flame growing in the pit of your stomach. Your eyes remained on the wall as he slid his cock in and out of you, deep groans and hisses leaving his lips. Occasionally his tongue would curl to say something in High Valyrian although you knew not what it meant. You paid no mind to any of it, wanting this to be over.

You squeezed your eyes shut when Daemon’s hands found yours, threading your fingers together. You pushed against them, but he was stronger, forcing them against the pillow on either side of your head. His breathing was heavy, yours the same, and he seemed to lose himself in the feel of you.

It was hard to say how long Daemon remained on top of you. Hands on yours then on your back and waist and thighs. He could not seem to stop touching you, and when he finally stilled, spilling himself into you, his hands had you pinned down. His lips grazed yours as he came, forcing you to face him, and you did not attempt to hold in your tears.

He would not get off of you, and his light hair formed a curtain around you both when he lifted his face, nose brushing yours. He did not look regretful or ashamed in the slightest, and you imagined that Daemon was known for taking what he wanted. Why should a woman be any different?

He took your hand and forced you to touch his hair before leaning in to kiss you again. He slid your hand down his chest, ghosting over his abdomen, and after a short reprieve, he started to move again. You trembled in trepidation because this time you knew that he was determined to make you come with him.

tags: @xoxabs88xox @readermia @buckybarnesplumwhore @nickyl316h @captainchrisstan @sebabestianstan101 @villanellevi @notyourtypicalrose @coconutqueen21 @hurricanerin @trinittyy @hyoyeoniie @mandiiblanche @doozywoozy @melli0112 @zombiexbody @holl2712 @mansaaay @lipstickstainedred @avengers-goddess @ameliaalvarez06 @kaelibaby @totallynotkaibiased @hanniebee33 @jemimah-b99 @gillybear17 @mannstarkey @lovserrr @aglassoforangejuiceee @emberenchanted @layazul @toystory2wasjustokay @my-baexht-ls @prettymuchboo @asonofpeter @spidey-d00d @cockslutpadalecki @dirtytissuebox @evemarieyl @ventinglation @stopnala @annellie @littleone2223 @itskeishaaaaa @blueicequeen19 @drewsgfduh @ashpeace888 @bibliophilewednesday @lonnie2390147 @1-800-di0r @amanduhh1998 @coldspoons @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @twwcs @breakfastonpluto19 @lovedetlost @pearlsofme @rottenstyx @officialfangirls-blog @untoldgrace @maybanks-luver

@maskmare931

#daemon targaryen x reader #dark!daemon targaryen x reader #hotd fanfic

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henriettadreaming · 6 months

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Something I've found interesting, and by interesting I mean strange, is how Rhaenyra sending Laenor out of Westeros makes her a queer ally. She doesn't send him away to benefit him, she does it to benefit herself because she wants to marry Daemon.

She clearly says to Daemon on the beach "Laenor has been restless for years, and now he'll be useless. Or worse" She thinks now Laenor is grieving he's nothing but a liability, and with Laena dead she can be with Daemon. The only obstacle is her husband, who is the most outwardly heartbroken by Laena's death. And her intention was clear at the funeral, we see the way Rhaenyra's eyes follow Daemon constantly. She had sex with him that day, before consulting Laenor about faking his death.

I don't think asking a grieving man to run away from his family, his dragon and everything he knows is a mercy or a great gift. What if he changed his mind once the shock wore off, and realised the ramifications of his choice? What if him and his lover separated and he was completely alone? Rhaenyra and Daemon were willing to kill a servant and lie to their children and Rhaenys for the rest of their lives so they could be together, do you really think either of them would have allowed Laenor to get in the way of their plans?

#hotd #house of the dragon #laenor valeryon #laena valeryon #anti rhaenyra targaryen #anti daemon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen #anti team black #rhaenys velaryon

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thevelaryons · 1 month

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I’ve always found it interesting that of the lowborn/bastard women in the DotD, Marilda is the only one who doesn’t get slandered and insulted in the Westerosi history books.

Speaking specifically about the women who were rumored to have had affairs with noblemen, the women (Sara Snow/Alys Rivers/Nettles) in particular get derogatory descriptions for various reasons. The men they are linked to all either die or are unable to do anything about the rumors (Sara: her rumored lover Jace dies and her brother Cregan is far away in the North when those rumors become a thing in the South years later/Alys: her rumored lover Aemond dies and her son is obviously too young to do anything about the insults people are saying about his mother/Nettles: her rumored lover Daemon dies). Regardless of whether any of the rumors were true or not, it's still the women in the relationships who were described in a negative manner. Even men like Aemond or Daemon don't get as slandered, despite their more controversial actions.

Sara may or may not have existed (the fact that her existence alone is doubted speaks for itself) but in the history books she is described as an "unwashed" bastard. Even the fact she was a virgin at the time of her affair with Jace is called into question. Alys gets descriptors like "slattern" and "cow". She is reviled as a seductress and witch who would sacrifice her own children. Nettles gets insulted as well, both by characters around her and the maesters/septons recording the histories. Beyond the classism, there is also a racial angle to the insults with her skin colour always being at the forefront when she gets called "dirty" and "creature". It’s unfortunate but Westerosi society is unfair to women, especially those of a lower social class, and so they do often have to rely on the men in their lives, whether that’s a male lover/husband, their father, brother(s) or son(s) as a source of protection. Characters like Sara/Alys/Nettles don't get that protection.

Then you get to Marilda's descriptions in the book, and it's completely clean. Not a single insult is uttered against her despite her supposed involvement with two different Velaryon men. Whether her affair was with Corlys or Laenor, it occurred at the time when they were married men. Laenor is dead by the time when he's claimed to be the father of Marilda's sons. But Corlys is alive and well. Not to mention, he's a very well respected figure in Westerosi society. That being said, I can’t see Corlys doing any major PR control here since he does not have the means to do so.

Alyn, however, could ensure his mother did not get negative remarks. He's the one said to have fostered close ties to the Citadel and a positive relationship with the Faith. On more than one occasion, he was anointed by the High Septon himself, which is something that's typically reserved for the King or his Kingsguard. So I think Alyn might’ve used that influence to his favor.

While Alyn does seem like the type who doesn’t care much about what others think of him, he clearly respects his mother so I doubt he would want her to have a bad reputation. Even concerning the rumors of Alyn's potential affairs, the maesters are somewhat dismissive about them and call the rumors "unreliable". They don't give much credence to what third parties are saying on such matters. As for Alyn's mother, she is spoken of with nothing but respect and even flattery at times.

History is truly written by the victors.

#valyrianscrolls #asoiaf #marilda of hull #alyn velaryon #corlys velaryon #laenor velaryon #sara snow #alys rivers #nettles #alyn & marilda #meta #alyn going from being a mama's boy to a girldad was a very excellent writing decision by grrm

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bbygirl-aemond · 8 months

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if corlys was as feminist as some of y'all pretend he is, he would have tried to marry rhaenyra and laenor before trying to marry laena and viserys. if he thought that being a male consort to a queen was as good as being a female consort to a king, he'd be all for it.

laenor and rhaenyra were much closer in age than viserys and laena were. additionally, men don't risk their safety and lives in childbirth, so laenor would have been in less danger than laena as consort when it came to the duty of producing heirs. so, gender aside, corlys had more reasons to match up laenor and rhaenyra than he did to match up viserys and laena from the get-go.

but he didn't do that.

corlys's first choice was to risk his twelve year old daughter's safety, health, and life so that his biological grandson would succeed viserys on the throne. that, to him, was a better option than having his biological grandson succeed rhaenyra on the throne. because he thought that viserys's claim to the throne was more stable than rhaenyra's. and he thought this jeopardized his family's power grab enough to risk his daughter's life over it when he didn't have to.

(also, you can bet your ass that if laena married viserys and had his son, corlys would usurp rhaenyra in a heartbeat. that's his entire reason for wanting to betrothe them.)

tldr: corlys isn't a feminist, he's a power-hungry opportunist. like most men on this show. rhaenyra was his backup option, not his first choice. don't give him points for siding with her when he did it entirely out of self-interest AND as a last resort.

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frankcastleonlyfans · 2 years

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part two of dad!daemon headcanon pleaseeee 😭

𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐃𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐃𝐄, 𝐏𝐓𝟐:

pairing: dad!daemon targaryen x mom!reader

reblogs, feedbacks and likes are appreciated. i hope you like it!

warnings: fluff, daemon being an awesome dad, more fluff, just pure fluff.

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ୨♡୧ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

It's been five years since you gave birth to your last child.

You and Daemon had a beautiful baby girl, that he decided to name Viserra.

Since her birth, Daemon became even more protective towards you and the children.

He knew his brother wasn't going to live many more years, and Alicent was showing herself to be a threat in the council.

You tried not to worry too much, and also tried to keep him calm.

Daemon spends most of his days teaching sword fighting to his sons — and daughter.

Alyssa always wanted to play with your husband’s legendary sword, Darksister.

On her fifteenth name day celebration, he gave her her own.

"Valyrian steel..." She whispered, her eyes were full of emotion. "Father, I don't know what to say"

"All legendary swords have names. The conqueror had Blackfyre, I have Darksister, your brother Rhaegon named his Devour. What's yours called?"

Alyssa being your husband's daughter, you couldn't think of a different answer;

"Doombringer."

Daemon couldn't be more proud of his little warrior.

But he was also worried about her.

Alyssa finally became of age, and Daemon's brother, King Viserys, thought it would be the best for the house of the dragon to marry one of his sons to her.

Of course it wouldn't be with the second heir to the throne. Aegon was already married to his sister, Helaena.

And, Daeron was in Oldtown, so certainly it wouldn't be to him either.

"What did you say to him?" You asked your husband.

"I said, I'm not marrying my little girl to that psychopath one-eyed son of his!"

"Daemon!"

"What? I don't care if he exiles me for the hundredth time, my daughter is not going to marry that freak! The kid killed cats for fun when he was 12, Y/N!"

Daemon was protective over all his kids, but especially Viserra.

She was the only royal child in the castle, so she didn't really have anyone to play with her.

And like a good father, he didn't mind making her company.

Viserra was curious and a fast learner.

Daemon usually took her for walks on the dragonpit to see Caraxes, but never to rides, because she wasn't fond of heights.

She liked to learn about the dragons but not to be on top of one.

She also loved when Daemon talked to her in high valyrian.

"Do you wanna know something interesting?" He said playfully and she nodded, "The valyrian word for "love" and "need" are the same."

"Really?" She gasped.

"Really." He chuckled, "For example, jorrāelagon ao. Now, what did I say?"

"Love you."

"Yes, but so is "need you". The phrases are the same."

"Jorrāelagon ao" She repeated, hugging Daemon's huge torso.

He loved his girls more than anything, but he'd always remember to pay some attention to his boys too.

At the age of 18, Rhaegon spent most of his time on the westerosi skies, riding his beloved Araxes.

Daemon not only taught his sons sword fighting, but gladly showed them his amazing riding skills.

With the help of his father, Maegon finally found a dragon for himself. He claimed Seasmoke after Laenor's passing.

Both boys shared their father's adventurous spirit, and they loved to be on the air.

"I bet Aemond couldn't do this with that old burden of his!" Shouted Rhaegon, exhibiting his riding tricks.

"Vhagar can't even put herself in the air without falling to pieces!" Maegon mocked.

"I think she's so old that she saw Aemond's hair and thought it was Visenya taking her to conquer Dorne!" Daemon laughed.

His kids were his joy.

a/n: check out part 3 here

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen imagines #daemon targaryen x oc #house of the dragon imagines #daemon targaryen headcanons #house of the dragon #dad!daemon targaryen x mom!reader au #dad!daemon targaryen au

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gwenllian-in-the-abbey · 4 months

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What do you think of book&show!Rhaenyra as characters? And who do you like more?

Hi anon! I've been turning this one over in my mind since you sent it, because I wanted to give it some thought (and anyone who is sick of reading show critical stuff, just skip this one. I don't hate the show, I just think it's interesting and fun to dig a bit deeper). What it comes down to for me is that while book!Rhaenyra is fun, I wish the show had been braver with their depiction of Rhaenyra.

While book!Rhaenyra's motivations are not particularly complex, I feel like I understand her better than show!Rhaenyra. She hasn't heard a prophesy, nor does she feel any real responsibility toward the kingdom to make her second guess the war; her father had made her heir and that was that. Anyone who disagrees can go ahead and die. Her motivations are not particularly noble or self-sacrificing. If anything, it's the opposite. Book!Rhaenyra loves the finer things in life, she's headstrong, and a bit of a mean girl. She goes after what she wants unapologetically, lies through her teeth and never backs down. Book!Rhaenyra never weighs the consequences of her actions, she is vengeful and reactive. She is given terms which would allow her to keep Dragonstone in perpetuity, and unlike her show counterpart, she doesn't even consider them. She says no outright, even before Luke is killed, and replies to tell Aegon that, "I shall have my crown or I shall have his head." And while surely she values the lives of her sons, you get the sense that she never even considers the danger this war puts them in because losing isn't even an option for her. She's going to win because of course she is. And as a reader, you never question her motivations really because, whether you agree with her or not, it is easy to understand that she is fueled by a self-righteous conviction that she will be taking what she feels belongs to her, and woe be to anyone who gets in her way.

Show!Rhaenyra, on the other hand, is more thoughtful. We see this when she's crying at half-dead Viserys' bedside telling him that being heir is a burden, and we see it when she truly considers Otto's peace offer, when she tears up to see the page that Alicent saved from their girlhood. We see it in how she talks to her sons and in the way she apologizes to Alicent at the dinner table. She seems to have some concept of what is at stake, and understands that the throne is a tremendous burden and responsibility, and that the lives of her people are in her hands, and moreover that she does have the option of backing down. When she considers the peace offer, she very clearly states that the prophesy means that she has a responsibility to keep the realm stable, and maybe it is not the best thing for the realm is to throw it into civil war in order to sit the throne at all costs. But all of this, the added sense of awareness of the enormity of the the responsibility and the desire to do right by the realm, while they make her an easier person to support, also makes a lot of her actions that much harder to understand.

One of my main nitpicks with the show as a whole is that the actions of the book characters do not always fit the personalities of the show characters, and so the characterization seems inconsistent. Rhaenyra is aware of the gravity of her position, she learns about the prophesy and the threat to the realm, and then proceeds to have three bastard children (and this is a problem, because it jeopardizes her position. If she gets caught or Corlys/Laenor change their minds and disavow those kids, it's over for her). We have things like Rhaenyra asking for Aemond to be "sharply questioned," which comes from the book, when the episode before she was offering up a dragon and a Jace/Helaena engagement (a show invention, and even though it's not a great deal for the greens if you give it some thought, it reads to the audience as a peace offering). Or you have her telling Daemon she needs his help to fight the greens, and there's this whole conversation about making their enemies believe they're the kind of people who will kill to protect Rhaenyra's claim, but then in episode 8 they have this attempt at reconciliation between Alicent and Rhaenyra and in episode 10 Rhaenyra is going on about how Daemon has "gone to madness, gone to his war." She's seriously entertaining Otto's peace offer (which never happened in the book) while sending her sons off to muster support.

F&B has pretty thin characterization, but what is there comes mostly from the characters' actions and their dialogue. To create a consistent character, the writers needed to start there and ask, what kind of person would say these things and do these things, rather than taking the character they conceived, and trying to shoehorn canon events into that characterization. And the thing is, the show could have created a more fleshed out version of book!Rhaenyra and still made her sympathetic. Take Shiv Roy from Succession, for instance. Shiv is someone who is a victim of misogyny, but also undeniably not the best choice for CEO (neither, of course, are any of her brothers). She's overprivileged and not nearly as experienced or as smart as she thinks she is, she gets in her own way, and in trying to be "one of the boys," she consistently overshoots and alienates actual allies. But she's also a victim of misogyny-- she is expected to provide a woman's touch to delicate matters, but is expected to be as ruthless and cutthroat as the men. Her fuckup brothers are given endless second chances, but Shiv has no such leeway. The specter of motherhood hangs over her constantly-- once she becomes a mother, she will be cast out from the world of men, an asterisk beside her name. And show!Rhaenyra does lean into this a bit (think of Rhaenyra's boobs leaking in the small council, her being stuck giving birth at the moment when leadership is needed in episode 10), but it doesn't commit to the darker side of this. It is not brave enough to make Rhaenyra a bad person as well as a victim.

The thing about Succession is that the show never asked us to view Shiv as good, or as a better choice than her brothers. It didn't even ask us to find her particularly sympathetic, although I certainly do find Shiv sympathetic in some ways. She has a genuine love for her family that makes the moments when she betrays them even more bittersweet, and we can understand her as a pretty bad person while still understanding the ways in which patriarchy screwed her over. In fact, in some ways it was refreshing to see that a woman could be privileged, ruthless and occasionally cruel and still get fucked over (this article is a good breakdown of Shiv-- now imagine a Rhaenyra in this mold!). But central to the difference between HotD and Succession is that Succession doesn't ask us to view the "throne" as a force of good, nor the position as a force of change. The CEO position in Succession is pretty explicitly toxic. Roman refers to the company itself explicitly as a cage. The audience is meant to understand that the person who "wins" is going to be more miserable and more morally compromised as a result. And the Iron Throne is similar. It's a throne made of literal swords! The closer you get to it, the more cursed and compromised you become. But so far, HotD not only insists on casting Rhaenyra as a protagonist, with the addition of the prophesy and the vision of the white hart, winning the throne becomes something she must do for the greater good, her claim something she has been righteously chosen to uphold. And if winning the throne is righteous, then the throne itself must be righteous too. And that's a framing that I don't think can hold up through the Dance, but I fear that the show may have backed itself into a corner by casting Rhaenyra as the correct choice, which inherently frames the throne as something she is right to fight for, no matter the cost to the people, her family, or herself.

#asks #hotd critical #hotd vs succession #rhaenyra targaryen #shiv roy

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visenyaism · 2 months

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at least in the show technically (i say technically since they're not actually blood related) jace would have the best claim to the throne as rhaenys' oldest living descentant and not baela cause for some reason they switched laena and laenor's birth order and he's the older sibling, he was born in 98 AC while she was born in 100 AC

oh yeah i forgot they did that for whatever reason. listen completely unacknowledged strongest claimant baela targaryen is SUCH an interesting concept to me what a wrench in the already insane family dynamic going on there

#baela targaryen we will get you dark sister somehow #she’s in the same club as like. rhaena the lesbian and daena. and visenya #asoiaf #hotd

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in-my-feels-probably · 2 years

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It's Aemond Targaryen you asked, it's Aemond Targaryen we give (and sorry because this is going to be long 😅)

Ok, ever since I read this au where Meraxes wasn't killed and lived until the Dance made me think that she'll def be bigger than Vhagar (since it's established in the books that Meraxes was bigger than Vhagar during the Conquest) this made me think, what if Meraxes, due to her size and her headstrong and tenacious personality, became like a wild dragon and stayed hidden somewhere in Dragonstone after Queen Rhaenys's death because no one is worthy to become her new rider.

Since Meraxes decided to stay hidden, most people over the years believed she really died, until she was discovered by (Y/N) months after her mother Rhaenyra and Daemon's wedding. (Y/N), believed to be Queen Rhaenys I's reincarnation for having the Targaryen looks and personality despite being Jacaerys' younger twin, became worthy to Meraxes and bonded with her to become her rider.

The Blacks knowing that Meraxes will be of great asset to their side decided to keep her a secret and still made everyone in the kingdom, especially the Greens, believe that (Y/N) still doesn't have a dragon. So IMAGINE Aemond's shock when Meraxes and (Y/N) came to Lucaerys and Arrax's aid on that night at Storm's End, saving Luce and arrived at Dragonstone alive. Imagine the shock of the Greens that the Blacks have Meraxes that's bigger than Vhagar on their side, and imagine what Aemond would feel that his precious little niece since he has been pining for her for years.

Doomsday

Hi! This is so long, I’m so sorry. I just had so much to say, I probably should have made this multiple parts. Oh well, I wanted to get it out anyway. I changed a few parts of your request, but nothing major. I hope everything I added is ok, and that you enjoy it. Let me know what you think!

(Warnings: violence, gore, mentions of death, kinda targaryen incest, swearing, let me know if i missed anything)

—

Your relationship with your family was most definitely an interesting one.

Being the sole daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen, you had many eyes on you. Especially because you were the only one of her children that resembled her looks. She did eventually have children with Daemon that got the Targaryen features, but for a time, you were the only one. Which was particularly odd, considering you were twins with Jacaerys, who looked nothing like you.

Many speculated that you were a child from another, that Rhaneyra took in as her own. Others suspected that you were her only true child she had with Laenor Velaryon. There were even whispers of you being a reincarnation of past rulers, including Queen Rhaenys.

Your parents never addressed the silly claims, only ever raising you as a Targaryen and a Velaryon. You were to hold your head up high, just as your Mother did.

Growing up in King’s Landing, there wasn’t much you particularly enjoyed doing. The city wasn’t to your taste. Your brothers and your uncles regularly trained, which you occasionally looked in on to fill the time, but you hardly ever joined yourself.

Being Rhaenyra’s daughter, and the supposed daughter of Laenor, there was a certain expectation that you train as well alongside your brothers as well.

However, your family had lots to say about it, especially Aegon. To avoid the harassment, Ser Harwin offered to train you one on one. Ser Criston, biased towards your uncles, made training a very unpleasant experience, and Ser Harwin took it upon himself to make sure you received the same training as your brothers did. You suspected your Mother had something to do with it, but Ser Harwin never made it seem like he was acting on her request. He was always kind to you, which was one of the few perks to living in the capital.

Occasionally, Aemond would join in on training with you. Your relationship growing up with Aemond was interesting, to say the least. One of the other few perks of living in the city. As children, you bonded over the fact that neither of you had dragons, despite both of you being given dragon eggs when you were born. They never hatched, which Aegon enjoyed taunting you both to no end about.

Your brothers weren’t as cruel, but they joked with you as well, as young boys tend to do. Jacaerys, your twin brother, often tried to console you about it. Sometimes, he’d let you fly with him on his dragon, Vermax, who seemed to sense how close you were with his rider. As nice as Jace would try to be, he also lived to tease you, as any brother would.

“You’ll have a dragon one day,” he’d tell you. “Besides, it’s only fair, Y/N. You got the silver hair. You're the spitting image of Mother.”

You’d scoff, playfully rolling your eyes at him. “I’ll trade you for a dragon.”

“Then who would keep Aemond company while the rest of us are out flying?”

You remembered the day your brothers and uncle decided it would be funny to tell Aemond they had found him a dragon, and instead brought a pig with parchment wings glued to its back out of the dragon pit. His Mother told him to forget his incessant obsession over having a dragon, but he just couldn’t let it go.

You found him that evening, stalking around in the courtyard, pouting. When he heard you approach, he sniffled and quickly wiped under his eyes, but he knew you had caught him crying. You told him there was no shame in it, and that he did not have to hide that part of himself to you.

You had sat down, patting the spot on the ground next to you. He relented, taking his place beside you. You sat in comfortable silence, something you often did together. Aemond was never a man of many words, but he was especially quiet in times like this.

“We will have dragons one day, Aemond. I know it. It does no good to dwell on it now. Don’t give them the satisfaction of seeing your tears. Tell me you know that.”

He turned to you, offering a small smile. “I know.”

He didn’t really believe it himself, but somehow, he knew you were right. You were never able to lie to him, and so he knew you were only ever speaking the truth. And if you believed, he believed it too. Your faith was good enough for him.

Aemond was always good at comforting you, too.

When you heard news of Ser Harwins death, you were near inconsolable. While you understood the rumors around your family, and you knew in your heart that there was great potential for the man to be your Father, you publicly grieved anyway.

Aemond threatened to take the tongue of any man who teased you about it.

—

As you got older, you saw less and less of Aemond. The night Lucerys took Aemond’s eye, defending his brother and Daemon’s daughters, you didn’t exactly take his side. If there was one thing you were, it was loyal to your family. As much as you loved Aemond, you wouldn’t take his side if you knew in your heart that he was wrong. You had told him how you thought him claiming Vhagar was unfair, and that it wasn’t his right to do so. Still, that made it no easier to see him hurt, and permanently scarred. You knew it would leave him vulnerable to torment.

That night, Alicent attacked your own Mother.

An eye for an eye.

You weren’t having it. Just as fierce and brave as your mother, you stood in front of Luke and Jace, trying your best to protect them. Rhaenyra took a knife for it, and it was the final blow that wedged its way into the middle of your family, dividing the two sides.

The Greens and the Blacks.

Alicent wouldn’t allow her sons to be around your brothers for longer than absolutely necessary. By association, this included you too. In your later years, you came to understand why Alicent did all that she did. She just wanted her family safe, and she did what she could with the cards she was dealt. But that didn’t mean that you were happy about it, and you spent what little time you had left in the city trying to make amends with Aemond.

Surprisingly, he wasn’t that upset. The night he was hurt, you had snuck to see him. You profusely apologized, swearing that you never meant for any of this to happen. He had stopped you, sounding much wiser than his age.

“I understand, Y/N. They’re your family. I would never ask you to give up your loyalty for me.”

If only he knew just how much you cared about him, and how you often worried that one day, you would be asked to give it up for him. You could never stomach the idea of truly letting him go.

At the time, you didn’t know what to say. He was being suspiciously kind, especially after all you said to his mother in your brother's defense.

“It is a trade that I can bear, Y/N. An eye seems a small price for the largest dragon in the world. You were right in the end.”

“I really am sorry. I never meant for this to happen. I’m grateful you understand,” you muttered, gently taking his hand in yours. You slightly grinned. “And of course I was right, I always am. I’m happy for you. Truly. Maybe a bit jealous, but truly.”

—

In the following years, you spent most of your time with your family on Dragonstone.

Sometimes, Aemond would write letters to you. It warmed your heart to know he still thought of you. He had matured immensely since you left. You heard tales of him, of the mysterious young Prince, rider of Vhagar, distinguished swordsman. It amused you to think of him in that light, when you could still remember beating him in duels as children and watching him complain to Ser Criston.

When your grandsire, King Viserys, was said to be very ill, your Mother decided it was finally time to return to King's Landing.

It was good timing, since Rhaenyra would have the opportunity to introduce her youngest children to her Father, as well as inform him of the marriage pact between your brothers and Daemon’s daughters. It was also an opportunity to challenge Vaemond for Driftmark, which your Mother believed to be rightfully Lucerys’s. Rhaenys had a soft spot for you, and a respect for Rhaenyra, and your family knew she would eventually back you all and vouch for you to the King.

Upon arrival, Alicent greeted you. Daemon, able to see through her antics, had little patience for her speeches. Unlike him, you could see that she was trying her best to mend the family, if not for herself, then for her husband, who greatly desired it.

She directed you to where Aemond was, so that her and your Mother could catch up. You found him in the courtyard, silently watching the ships in the harbor. Vhagar could be seen across the water, soaring through the sky.

You had grown into yourself since the last time in the city, but it was nothing, compared to Aemond.

He was tall now, much taller than you. His hair was long, a shining silver, tied back out of his face. He carried himself like a warrior, with his head high. He was always a rather quiet person, but now his silence only added to his reverence. He wore an eye patch, covering the eye he lost. Even from a distance, you could see the slightly raised scar, which healed with a silver hue.

You had almost forgotten how handsome he was. He really was beautiful.

You couldn’t help yourself from smiling. You cleared your throat, alerting him of your presence.

“Are you going to stand there all day, or am I expected to just hug myself?”

He smiled, a genuine rare smile. His voice was soft. “Y/N.”

Aemond, just as he wasn’t a man of many words, wasn’t a man accustomed to touch. He rarely ever sought out your touch, or anyone’s touch for that matter…it was only when he was really upset, and it was all that could pull him back from the brink. But this time, he opened his arms, hoping that you’d be just as excited to see him as he was to see you.

You laughed, a bright sound that warmed his heart. You rushed over to him, securing your arms tight around his waist. You pressed your cheek to his chest, relishing in his hold. He was warm, and familiar.

“Look at you,” you murmured into his chest.

“Look at you,” he replied, leaning back to get a better look at you. “How have you managed to get even more beautiful since the last time I saw you?”

“Oh, hush. You’re one to talk.” You grinned.

“I’m glad to have you back. Finally, someone worth talking to. No one around here is capable of holding a halfway decent conversation.”

You shook your head, teasing. “Don’t exaggerate. You don’t like talking, anyway. I bet you were glad to see me go. ‘Finally, some peace and quiet.’ It’s a wonder I’ve put up with you for as long as I have.”

“Alright, alright. Truce. Come, Helaena will be happy to see you.”

You smiled, following him, but then groaned, realizing. “Please tell me Aegon isn’t around. I’d rather not spoil my day within minutes of my arrival. I cannot be held responsible for my actions if he bothers me. Surely, your mother would understand. You are the favorite, after all.”

Aemond hummed, chuckling. “Don’t push your luck.”

—

The day had turned out to be quite the series of events. You, amongst many other things, bore witness to Daemon beheading Vaemond Velaryon, in defense of your Mother. Vaemond had called you bastards, and Rhaenyra a whore.

If Daemon hadn't done something about it, you would have. You didn’t take kindly to insults towards your family. While it was true that your brothers bore no resemblance to their father, you didn’t let that get in the way of defending them.

To tell the truth, you harbored no great affection for your Father, Ser Laenor. He was a kind man, even kinder for fathering children that were not his, if there was to be any truth to the rumors. He loved you, as any father would, but he never made any attempts to strengthen yours and his relationship.

Your Mother told you it was because you resembled the Targaryens. Your spirit reminded him of his sister, who he greatly missed.

When he “passed,” and Daemon married your Mother, you were happier for it. You always enjoyed Daemon’s company, and of your siblings, he seemed to prefer you. He had no shame in hiding it. He was infinitely better at fathering girls.

You were happy to have Rhaena and Baela at your side during your time at Dragonstone, as well as Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys, who often visited.

You had a great love for the Blacks. You were extremely loyal to them, and when they were threatened in court, you stood by Daemon's side without so much as flinching.

Helaena gasped and turned away, shielded by her mother, even Aegon taking a step back. Aemond just watched, slightly bewildered, but intrigued.

He met your eyes across the room, and your face was stoic. Brave. He had always liked that about you.

That night, the King ordered that the family dine together, united as one. It went about as well as could be expected with all the estranged family members in one room.

You had grown quite fond of Daemon since he had married your Mother, and you shared an amused glance across the table as Alicent said a prayer before the meal.

You looked over towards Aemond, to see if you could catch his gaze, but he had his eyes dutifully closed. Whether he was actually praying, or just attempting to appease his own mother, you did not know. Still, you’d have to tease him for it later.

Your Mother announced the betrothal of Jacaerys and Lucerys to Rhaena and Baela. The news was taken surprisingly well across the table, and you smiled fondly at each pair, truly grateful to see them all happy. Even more so grateful that you were finally getting true sisters.

Aegon, being the bastard he is, had to spoil everyone's fun. You supposed he couldn’t help himself, it was in his nature to be a perpetual nuisance. Still, that fact didn’t make him any less insufferable.

You only heard the tail end of his words to Jace, not only embarrassing you brother in his attempt, but your soon to be sister in law.

“Hold your tongue, Aegon. It would be a shame to see you lose it.”

Aegon grinned, narrowing his eyes at you. “Always a pleasure, aren’t you?”

You were sidetracked by the King congratulating Luke on his inheritance of Driftmark. The toast was short, once again interrupted by Aegon antagonizing Jace.

Jace clenched his jaw. “I believe my sister told you to hold your tongue. Are two warnings necessary, or are you just that daft? You can play the jester if you wish, but you will hold your tongue before my betrothed.”

The King stood, expressing his sorrow to see his family so estranged. He removed his mask, giving you a view of his decaying face. You fought to keep your face steady, not wanting to offend him. You watched with respect as he did his best to stay upright, and instill the importance of message to you all.

“Set aside your grievances. If not for the Crown, then for the man who loves you all. So dearly.”

You looked around the room as Alicent helped him sit, watching everyone’s faces. No one could seem to make eye contact, staring at their plates. Suddenly your Mother stood up, raising her cup. The King’s words seem to inspire a round of toasts, all of which struck you. Knowing the history of your Mother and Alicent, you felt a twinge in your heart at their words, smiling as you watched them commend each other.

Of course, the peace only lasted so long. The revered toasts game to jokes, blows to blows. Aegon angered your brother, who stood to look Aegon in the eye. At the intensity of the stares, Aemond stood as well, staring them both down.

Rolling your eyes, you cleared your throat, ever so slightly. Aemond caught your glare, and decided to sit, rather than endure your wrath. Jace and Aegon took it as their cue to follow, sitting and half heartedly making up, at least as cordially as they could without hitting each other.

Helaena stood, and as much as you loved her, you rolled your eyes, thinking that you couldn’t bear another awkward toast. To your surprise, although you don’t think she intended, she took a dig at Aegon, wounding his pride.

To your amusement even more so, when the harpist began to play, Jace asked Helaena to dance, who gladly accepted. The peace was once again overlooming, if only for a moment. Seeing your family smile brought a smile to your own face. You laughed as you watched Jace and Helaena dance, if you could even call it dancing. Your Mother’s laugh was bright, warming your heart. There was nothing more in the world you enjoyed more than seeing her happy.

When the King groaned in pain, and was carried off by his guards, you knew it was the end of the peace. He was holding you all together, and without him, it was bound to crumble.

The final straw was the roasted pig, placed in front of Aemond on the table. You covered your mouth with your hand in realization, silently willing him not to react. You weren’t so lucky, because Luke snickered, and Aemond, never the one to let his pride be wounded, stood up for the final toast of the night.

“To the health of my nephews. Jace, Luke, and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise…strong. Come, let us drain our cups to these three Strong boys.”

You finally stood, giving him a look of warning. “Aemond.”

Jace squared his shoulders. “I dare you to say that again.”

“Why? ‘Twas only a compliment. Do you not think yourself Strong?”

“Aemond!” You said louder, but you weren’t quick enough.

Jace quickly walked over, swinging and punching Aemond in the jaw. You gasped, although you did nothing to stand in the way. Aemond pushed Jace to the ground, guards suddenly filing in. You only stepped in when Aegon grabbed Luke, who was trying to come to his brother's defense, and pressed him to the table, holding him still.

“Unhand him or lose that hand,” you said, picking a knife up from a stray plate.

Reluctantly, Aegon let go, and you pulled Luke into you, pushing him towards your Mother. You whipped around the table, moving next to stop your twin, but Daemon had beaten you to it. He held him back as you came to step beside him, and you overheard Aemond’s words to his mother.

“I was merely expressing how proud I am of this family, Mother. Though it seems my nephews aren’t quite as proud of theirs.”

Your Mother ordered her children to go to their quarters, but you remained by Daemon’s side as you watched Aemond stand opposite of you.

Aemond looked at Daemon, not necessarily willing to challenge him, but then he looked at you. He saw your face, riddled with anger and disappointment, and finally chose to step down, turning and walking out of the room. He didn’t look at you as he left. He walked straight past you, so close that all you had to do was reach out and touch him, but you didn’t.

You let him go.

As people began filing out of the room, Daemon turned to you. “You should have hit one of them. Gods know the bastards deserved it. I would have approved.”

You nodded, still seething. “There’s still time for it, I assure you. They’ll wish for it when I’ve finished with them.”

“I’m proud to call you my own.” He smirked at you, patting your shoulder before walking out of the room. “Make it hurt, darling.”

Your Mother and Alicent were all who were left, except a few guards and servants. You suddenly felt the urge to cry, and you rushed over to your Mother, nudging into her side. She ran a comforting hand through your hair, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I think it’s best we go back to Dragonstone, my love.”

Alicent shook her head, taking your Mother’s hand. She placed her other hand on your arm. “Please, don’t go. You’ve only just arrived.”

Rhaenyra nodded, sighing. “Let me see the children home. I’ll come back on dragonback.”

Your eyes widened, and you turned to her. “Mother, you can’t come alone, not in your condition. I can see everyone home, or I can come back with you.”

She shook her head, cupping your cheek in her palm. “No, love, I need you with your brothers. You’re the only level headed one out of them all, including Daemon. I want to know that you’re safe, that you’re all together. Say your goodbyes.”

You wanted to argue, but you just nodded in defeat. You looked to Alicent, who gave your hand a comforting squeeze.

“Helaena will want to say her goodbyes. She’s been dying for you to meet the children. And Aemond…I know he acted tonight without cause, and I will not defend it. But please, let him see you off, too. He sulked for a month the last time you left. He’s too prideful to come to you himself, and he knows he’s angered you. I won’t blame you if you don’t say goodbye, but I’m urging you to. You know where he’ll be.”

You nodded. “Of course, Your Grace. He may have made a fool of himself, but I know I can persuade him to apologize. I’ll say goodbye to both of them, I promise. Thank you for the opportunity.”

Alicent smiled at you with a genuine fondness. She turned to your Mother. “You’ve raised a fine daughter, Rhaenyra. She’s just like you.”

Your Mother smiled. “Yes, I’m very proud. I don’t know where she gets it all from. Go ahead, say your goodbyes, my girl.”

You nodded at them both, turning to leave the room. You knew where Aemond would be, it was where he always went to sulk.

Sure enough, you found him up on the hill just outside the dragonpit. Vhagar was too large to stay in the pit, so she slept outside when she stayed close to the castle. Aemond always went to the pit, standing on a perch that overlooked the hill so he could watch Vhagar.

You supposed it was because, while Aemond was a very independent person, he didn’t truly enjoy being alone. With Vhagar nearby, he could still feel like someone he connected to was closeby, without ever having to go to another person and face the risk of embarrassment.

When you still lived in the city, half the time, he’d choose to come to you. The other half, this is where he’d be.

You clenched your jaw, willing yourself not to shout at him. It wouldn’t accomplish anything, and it would only cause him to sulk further. You could see his shoulders square, and his body tense. You hadn’t made your presence known, but he had picked up on it anyway.

“If you expect me to show you pity, you have the wrong idea. Do you want to tell me what that little performance was?”

He said nothing, but you could see him flex his hand, balling his fingers into a fist.

“I suggest you speak now because I will be gone by morning.” This got his attention, and he turned his head just enough that he could see you. “What?”

“Mother has ordered we go back to Dragonstone,” you informed. “I tried to get her to let me stay, but she wouldn’t hear it. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

Aemond hummed, his eyes cast to his feet. He just nodded, turning back to face Vhagar.

You scoffed. “Really? You have nothing to say to me? If you let me leave now without an explanation, don’t bother sending a raven because I won’t receive it. So, what will it be?”

He turned around to fully face you, taking a step forward. “I…I’m sorry.”

You raised a brow. “Sorry? You’re sorry? It was one dinner, Aemond. Surely you could have made it through without adding any more fuel to the fire. I understand your resentment towards my brothers, and I know Aegon was no help, but for fucks sake. You had no right.”

“Jacaerys insulted my family!” Aemond said, taking yet another step towards you.

You took a step forward, shortening the gap between you both. Your eyes were full of anger, your voice bitter.

“No, Aemond, no he didn’t. Your brother made snide remarks, not only to Jace, but to my soon to be sister, and Jace stood up for her. If Aegon is who you are offended on behalf of, you have misunderstood who your true family is. You, however, insulted my family. Belittling my brothers is one thing, even I do it when they’re being uncivil. But they did no such thing.”

Aemond wouldn’t meet your eyes, looking down at the ground.

“To question their legitimacy in front of the entire family, and in front of the King no less, is to question mine. Or have you forgotten I’m a so-called Strong, too? I may not have the looks, but I am every bit of his child as my brothers are, if you truly believe it to be so. I will not have you think any less of me because of it.”

He met your eyes at the accusation, his face softening. “Y/N, you know I would never question that about you–”

“Do I, Aemond? Do I know that? Because you seemed pretty content to do so tonight. Hear me when I say this, I can’t be more clear about it. I don’t give a shit who my real father is. I would be just as proud to call Ser Harwin my father as I was to call Ser Laenor my father. Just as I regard Daemon as my father. The truth of it matters not to me, and it shouldn’t to you either. Do you think of me less because of my parentage?”

“No–”

“Then why question it? Why, in an effort to humiliate my brothers, would you drag me into it? What purpose does it serve you?”

Aemond nodded ever so slightly, his shoulders slumping. Reluctantly, he reached for one of your hands, and you begrudgingly accepted.

“I know. I acted on impulse, and I didn’t think–”

“Exactly, Aemond,” you said, although you didn’t let go of his hand. “You didn’t think.”

“I’m sorry.” You felt him squeeze your hand ever so slightly. You squeezed back.

You brought your other hand up to cup his chin and turn his head to face yours. You held him still, so he had to meet your gaze. Your voice was soft.

“Answer me this, then. I know you have no great love for your own father, and that is understandable. If you discovered that he wasn’t your true father, tell me in truth, would it really matter? Because if it doesn’t, why should mine? Does my parentage really matter that much to you? Or any of my family’s, for that matter?”

He shook his head. “No. It doesn’t matter. It is no one’s fault what family they’re born into.”

“Exactly. Blood isn’t what defines a family. Your family is who you choose it to be, and the rest doesn’t matter. I don’t give a shit about blood. My Mother is my family, Daemon is my family, my brothers and their betrothed are my family.”

You intertwined your fingers with his, pressing a kiss to the back of his hand. “You’re my family, you insufferable idiot. You, and Helaena, even your mother. And that is enough. That is who I pick. Are you hearing me?”

He nodded, face softening, his shoulders relaxing. His voice was quiet. “You’re mine, too.”

“Good,” you nodded, pulling him along with you. “You’re going to come with me to apologize to your mother, Gods only know what she must think of me and my brothers now.”

“She likes you. She smiles when I mention you.”

You grinned to yourself, tugging him along. “Fine, we can do that later. But we are going to say goodbye to Helaena, I have yet to meet her children, and I won’t leave here without doing so. I feel so bad for her, cooped up everyday with no one to talk to. Promise me you’ll be with her more. I know she’s lonely. Promise me.”

“I promise, Y/N. But why am I coming with you to say goodbye, I am not the one leaving.”

“Because…I don’t want to leave you alone just yet. I’ve only just arrived, and now I will be without you again. I’m taking all the time I can get…and, in the event that we run into your brother, you will be here to stop me from doing anything rash, like maiming him, or possibly killing him, I haven’t decided yet.”

You could hear him chuckle, knowing from the sound of his voice that he was smiling.

“That’s my girl.”

—

You left the next day, as did your family. It had been difficult to leave some of them behind. You knew in your heart that you wouldn’t see the King again, his health declining as rapidly as it was. You heart ached to see your Mother leave, just after it seemed like her relationship with Alicent was beginning to mend.

It hurt your heart even more so to leave behind Helaena. She cried when you told her, upset to see you go after you had only just arrived, and you comforted her as best you could, visiting with her and her children. You left her room nearly in tears, begging Aemond to pay more attention to her, to make sure she and her children were happy, and away from Aegon’s influence.

A promise is a promise.

He agreed, holding you close. He didn’t say much, just keeping you by his side for as long as he could. In the end, he saw you off with your family, promising to write. You asked him to visit, if he was able. After all, he had a dragon now, he could go wherever he wanted. He said he would try, and you said nothing else about it.

He didn’t actually say the word ‘goodbye.’ You supposed it may have been too difficult for him. You most certainly were having a hard time with it, so you didn’t say it either. You just promised that you would see him soon.

If only you had known how soon it would be.

In less than a month, your life had changed drastically.

Within a fortnight, once you had settled back home, Daemon heard rumors of a rogue dragon, hidden away off the coast of Dragonstone. Her description matched that of Meraxes, a dragon thought to be dead. The last to claim her was Queen Rhaenys, sister and wife of Aegon the Conqueror.

Meraxes was said to be even bigger than Vhagar, only second to Balerion, who had died years before. If it was true, and Meraxes really was alive, the Blacks had a chance to claim the biggest dragon in the world.

With all of your brothers having already claimed a dragon, and you still without one, Daemon decided she would be yours to claim, if she chose you.

You were shocked when he told you, but you went with him willingly to the cave she supposedly dwelled in. You rode on the back of Caraxes, fighting the pit in your stomach as your feet left the ground. You had been on dragonback before, but to know the next time you mount a dragon it may be your own, it had you frazzled.

“I believe it’s time you had a dragon of your own, don’t you?”

“What if she doesn’t choose me? What if she isn’t even real?”

He shook his head, grinning at you. “She’s real. And she’ll be yours. I can feel it.”

When you made it to the cave, Daemon walked with you as far as he could go. He stopped at the entrance, handing you a torch.

“It’s up to you now. Do me a favor, come out of there unharmed. I couldn’t handle your Mother’s wrath if I went and got her only daughter killed.”

“I’ll be alright. You don’t sound too worried, Kepa.”

Father.

He smiled, a genuine smile. “Go on.”

Once in the cave, it took you a few minutes to get your bearings. You grew a little anxious, but you swallowed your nerves, continuing on. You were going to do this for your family. You were going to do this for yourself. You let out a low hum, signaling anything inside of your presence. You walked for a little while longer, before you heard a low rumble, humming back to you.

You turned the corner, and sure enough, there she was. Glowing gold eyes and silver scales. She was beautiful.

She sniffed the air, opening her mouth, a shrill roar coming from her throat. Heat filled the room as she widened her jaws, and you could see the ball of fire at the back of her throat.

You held your hand out, calling out to her. “Kesan gaomagon ao daor ōdrikagon.”

I will do you no harm.

“Nyke iderēbagon ao, Merakses. Gaomagon ao iderēbagon nyke?”

I choose you, Meraxes. Do you choose me?

Meraxes hummed, inching closer to you. You held your breath and her snout came inches from your face, her teeth bared. You looked up into her eyes as she narrowed hers at you, staying still.

You took a breath, closing your eyes. You held a hand out straight in front of you.

“Iksi mēre isse keskydoso. Lentor.”

We are one in the same. Family.

You opened your eyes as you felt her nudge her snout into your hand, her breath hot on your hand. You smiled, excitement bubbling in your chest.

“Good girl, Meraxes.”

“Ivestragī īlva jikagon ūndegon ñuha kepa, Merakses. Rȳbagon naejot nyke.”

Let us go see my Father, Meraxes. Listen to me.

You climbed up her back, settling with your legs wrapped at the base of her neck. You leaned forward, gripping the spikes along her spine.

“We’ll have to fit you for a saddle and reigns, my girl. Obey, now. Jikagon.”

Go.

She stood, racing for the entrance of the cave. You grinned wide as you felt the wind through your hair, laughing as she breached the entrance. Meraxes soared into the sky, looping around the tops of the trees.

You saw Daemon on the ground, cheering.

“Get Caraxes, Daemon! I’ll fly the rest of the way on my own,” you shouted down.

You soared off towards Dragonstone, knowing Daemon wasn’t far behind. You couldn’t hide your smile as you flew up through the clouds, holding tight to Meraxes. When you finally reached Dragonstone, you landed atop the hill. You climbed down, walking around to face Meraxes.

“Jikagon, ñuha riña. Sōvegon. Ao gīmigon skori naejot māzigon arlī naejot nyke.”

Go, my girl. Fly. You know when to come back to me.

You ran a hand along her cheek before stepping back, and Meraxes took off into the clouds. You waited for Daemon to return at the edge of the castle, and grinned as you saw him and Caraxes break through the clouds. He quickly dismounted, letting Caraxes go, before rushing over to you.

“My girl,” he said, pulling you into a hug. “I knew she’d choose you.”

You smiled, hugging him back. “She’s incredible. I can’t believe it. Thank you for taking me.”

“No child of mine will be without a dragon. Come, let's show your Mother I brought you back in one piece.”

You nodded, following him into the castle. On your way to your Mother’s chambers, you passed Jacaerys. He ran up excitedly.

“Is it true? Is she real?”

“She’s real. And she’s mine.”

Jace laughed, throwing an arm around your shoulder. “I told you that you’d have a dragon one day! Vermax always liked you. Even Vhagar liked you. Of course Meraxes would.”

“There’s time for celebration later, children. Come, Y/N.”

You nodded, waving to Jace, before following Daemon to greet your Mother. He held open the door for you, and you stepped in to see Rhaenyra sat at her table, holding baby Viserys. She turned as you entered and smiled, handing Viserys over to Daemon.

“You did it, didn’t you?”

You nodded, unable to contain your excitement, and your Mother laughed, that warm laugh that would comfort you in the darkest of times. She pulled you into her and you settled into her arms, resting your face in the crook of her neck. She cradled your head with her hand, holding you tightly.

“My sweet girl,” she pressed a kiss to your head, smiling fondly. “I couldn’t be more proud of you.”

“You’d think she was Queen Rhaenys herself, with how she rides,” Daemon said, grinning at his girls.

“We must celebrate. Luke has been asking for you. I think he was more excited than any of us.”

“He just wants to brag,” you laughed. “No doubt to the Greens. I don’t think I want to tell anyone else about Meraxes, not just yet at least. I’d like it to be a surprise.”

Daemon laughed, patting your shoulder. “And what a surprise it will be.”

—

The next morning, you were awoken by your Mother’s screams.

You rushed down the hall to see your brothers.

“What is going on?”

Jace stopped you from entering Rhaenyra’s chambers. “Mother has begun her labors.”

“What? She isn’t far enough along!”

“I know! But you must calm down. I was asked to collect you and Luke, we are to report to Mother, she has asked for us. Daemon is in the throne room, all of the Lords have gathered. I am to report to him afterwards. Something has happened, but we must remain calm, for her and the babe’s sake, alright?”

You took a breath, nodding. You grabbed Luke’s hand, who was wide eyed and scared. You let Jace lead you in.

Your Mother was in nothing but her blood covered shift, hair wild as she clutched to the beam on her balcony. She was groaning in pain, bent over as she tried to steady herself.

“Mother?” Jace asked wearily.

You clutched Luke to you, grasping the back of Jace’s elbow with your free hand.

Your Mother turned to you. “Your grandsire, King Viserys, has passed. The Greens have repudiated the succession and claimed the Iron Throne. Aegon has been crowned King.”

Your eyes widened in shock, and you let go of Jace to bring a hand up to your mouth. How could this happen? In such a short time, how did it all crumble? Did anyone do anything to stop it? Did Aemond? Your stomach turned at the thought.

“What is to be done about it?” Jace asked.

“Nothing, yet. Jacaerys, whatever claim remains to me, you are now its heir. Naught is to be done but by my command.”

Jace nodded, and Luke and him left the room. Your Mother groaned in pain, doubling over.

“Mother, I will be right back, I promise.”

“No, Y/N–” “I will not hear of it! I will be by your side! I will return in a moment.”

You willed yourself not to cry, stepping out of the room. You followed Jacaerys’s steps, marching into the throne room. You spotted Daemon, stepping past Jace.

“What has happened? Why has Mother begun her labors, it is far too early. And who let that fucking bastard sit upon the Iron Throne?”

Daemon sighed, walking over to you. “Calm down–”

“I will not! Mother is alone in there while you’re out here plotting a war. I understand the importance, but by all accounts, she is now the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Should we not wait for her word?”

Jacaerys nodded. “My Mother has decreed no action be taken while she is abed.”

“It’s good you’re here, young Prince. You’re needed to patrol the skies on Vermax. Y/N, Meraxes would be–”

“Did you hear what we said?” Jace asked, standing by your side.

Your Mother screamed, and you shook your head, turning to go.

“Tell no one outside of this room about Meraxes, I won't have the Greens know of her until she becomes of some use to us. Settle this amongst yourselves, I won’t leave Mother alone for another minute. And for fucks sake, please swallow your pride and do as she asks. No, as she commands. She’s your Queen, now. Act like it. Jace, I trust you can handle this.”

He nodded, and you turned to the other Lords, then to Daemon.

“I am asking that you give me the afternoon, so we can see to it that the Queen is safe. Trust me, I will stand by you as soon as this is over. You will have me and Meraxes. Heads will roll.”

You walked out of the room, rushing to your Mother’s chambers. You pushed open the door, brushing past the handmaidens gathered in the corner.

“Princess, let us help you,” one of them begged, holding back tears.

You went over to your Mother who was squatted by her bed, holding onto the post. “Mother, you’re going to let me help you.”

She shook her head, tears rolling down her cheeks. She groaned, clawing at her thighs. She moved to rest on her knees, and you held her forearms, steadying her. The handmaidens were pleading with her to let them help.

“Mother, if you won’t accept theirs, you will accept mine. I was here for Aegon and Viserys, I will be here for this babe, too. What do you need?”

She leaned her forehead to rest against your shoulder, gripping your forearms as you held her up.

“Make it stop!”

You felt tears well in your eyes as you ran a hand through her hair, pressing your other to her stomach.

“Rest on your knees, and push. You’re doing so well.”

She cried out, and a gush of blood fell to the floor below, pooling around her thighs.

“Please, help hold me up.” You nodded and moved your hands to her waist, moving her weight to lean against you. You grimaced and turned your head as she groaned into your ear, reaching down to try and pull the baby out herself. With a final push, she slumped against you, and you scrambled to catch the baby as it slipped out.

Your Mother fell back to sit, and you steadied her as you moved to her side, now facing the handmaidens as well. You looked down to see a pool of blood, with your baby sister resting in it. The baby looked closer to a dragon than she did a human, her body scaly and her features morphed. You looked away, squeezed your eyes tight and took a breath, settling behind Rhaenyra so she could relax against you.

You could hear the handmaidens cry as your Mother picked up the baby, cradling it in her arms. A sob passed her lips, and you finally opened your eyes, leaning your forehead against her shoulder.

“She’s beautiful, Mother. You did so well. Visenya was the name you picked if it was a girl, wasn’t it? I think that suits her.”

Your Mother let out a wail, pressing her face into your neck. You wrapped your arms around her shoulders, gently swaying her back and forth. You could see Daemon enter the room, and you looked up at him in despair.

“I’m so sorry,” you murmured, clutching your Mother tight. Daemon bowed his head, hiding his tears. He quickly left the room, leaving you with Rhaenyra.

She wouldn’t let you in the room with her and the Silent Sisters. You begged her to let you stay, but she wouldn’t relent. She could barely speak without crying.

“I cannot allow it, my love. You’ve done more than enough for me. But I have to do this on my own.”

You nodded, respecting her wishes. You found Daemon later that day, on the beach. He had fallen to his knees on the shoreline, his head bowed low. He had silent tears, running down his cheeks. You approached him, crouching down next to him. You had blood staining the bottom of your dress, it clouding the water where you sat.

You gently laid your hand on his. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could have done something.”

He wrapped an arm around your shoulder. “...Was it a girl?”

“It was,” you smiled sadly. “Mother said you would’ve called her Visenya.”

Daemon nodded, resting his head on yours. You could feel tears land in your hair. “I am lucky enough to have one remarkable daughter. You’ve done more for your Mother today than any father should ever have to ask of his child. I’m glad you were with her, when I couldn’t be.”

That evening, you held a service for your baby sister. A funeral pyre was lit for her. Within hours, Lords had come to your Mother’s support, and she was formally crowned Queen in front of the masses. You and all your family, the Blacks, as well as the Lords and knights under your command, bent the knee and swore fealty to her.

That night, you stayed by your Mother’s side for as long as she would allow you to. She held you close, cupping your face in her hands.

“I am so proud of you, sweet girl. Thank you for today. I don’t think I would have made it through without you.”

After you left her chambers to head to your own, your brothers stopped you, and made sure you were alright. Luke hugged you tight as Jace laid a hand on your shoulder.

“We heard what you did for Mother today. I can’t imagine it,” Luke said into your shoulder.

You shook your head. “You both were very brave today, too. You took charge, spoke for Mother when she couldn’t herself. I know it was scary, but you handled it well. You’re going to make fine rulers some day.”

—

The following days were spent planning for imminent war. Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys assisted, offering their fleet and dragons as help. Lords around the realm either staked their claim of support, or backed the Greens.

Otto Hightower came to give Aegon’s terms. Among making your brothers shields and cupbearers, he proposed that you live out your days as a servant as well, and one of his choosing. It took all you had left in you to not call Meraxes and burn Otto to the ground, and tell Aegon to take his terms and cram them down his throat.

Your Mother told him that she would have a response for him the following day, much to Daemon’s displeasure. As much as you would have enjoyed watching Daemon take Otto’s head, you were completely loyal to your Mother, and would stand by her in every decision she made.

When making battle plans, your Mother knew she had to get word to the pivotal Lords of the realm, before the Greens sunk their claws in themselves.

Any love you had for the Greens had died along with your baby sister. While you were sure Helaena and her children were innocent in the matter, the rest of them were to blame. Yuu found it hard to believe some of them could have stooped so low. Aegon and Otto made sense, but the rest of them you didn’t understand. You didn’t know how Aemond was involved in all of it, but you knew he did nothing to stop the betrayal.

As far as you were concerned, they could all burn. Princess Rhaenys would have done the realm a favor if she had just burned that little bastard to ash in the dragonpit when she had the chance.

As a way of moving the plans along faster, your brother made a proposal.

“We should bear those messages. Dragons can fly faster than ravens, and they’re more convincing. Send us,” Jace said, standing next to Luke.

You looked across the table to your Mother, watching her contemplate.

“The Prince is right, Your Grace,” Lord Corlys added.

Heads turned to look at your brothers, who stood next to their betrothed. Your Mother finally relented, nodding.

“Very well. Prince Jacaerys will fly north. First to the Eerie to see my mother’s cousin, the Lady Jeyne Arryn, and then to Winterfell to treat with Lord Cregan Stark for the support of the north. Prince Lucerys will fly south to Storm’s End and treat with Lord Borros Baratheon. We must remind these Lords of the oaths they swore, and the cost of breaking them.”

Your Mother looked at you, offering you a smile. “Princess Y/N will remain here for the time being, and will assist if necessary. I expect Meraxes will be needed in the near future, and she will serve us much better as a surprise for the Greens. The Princess will stay to help decide when the best time for that is.”

Everyone nodded, knowing their positions, and dispersed to do their duties.

Hours later, your brothers, as well as Princess Rhaenys, were ready to leave for the skies. You stood by your Mother as your brothers approached, each being handed a scroll with a message from the Queen.

“If you take this errand, you go as messengers, not as warriors. You must take no part in any fighting…Cregan Stark is closer to your age than mine. I would hope that as men, you can find some common interest.”

Jace nodded, taking the scroll from her. “Yes, Your Grace.”

She turned to Luke, handing him his scroll. She offered him a smile when she saw his uneasy face. “Storm's End is a short flight from here. You have Baratheon blood from your grandmother, Rhaenys. And, Lord Borros is an eternally proud man..he will be honored to host a prince of the realm, and his dragon. I expect you will receive a very warm welcome.”

“Yes Mothe–Your Grace,” Luke said, taking his scroll.

You smiled at him, bringing him into a quick hug. You turned to Jace, who opened his arms for you. You hugged him tight, before stepping back to your Mother’s side.

“If either of you do something stupid and make me come save you, I will wring your neck. Not that I wouldn’t enjoy taking Meraxes, but I would hope my first time flying with you wasn’t to save your ass. Both of you do me that favor, please.”

Your Mother laughed, your brothers smiling. “I wouldn’t have put it in those words, but yes, you’re right. Listen to your sister, my boys. Go to it, then.”

Within the hour, your brothers and grandmother had taken to the skies, soaring over the water until they were specks on the horizon.

It was the first evening of peace in a while. You sat with your mother, and baby Aegon and Viserys, who were babbling to each other in broken Valyrian. You would have your Mother all to yourself for the next few weeks, content to be by her side whenever she needed you.

Something had been bothering you for weeks now, ever since you left King’s Landing. You had yet to find the right time to bring it up, but now seemed as good a time as any.

“Mother?” You asked, getting her attention. “I have something to ask.”

She nodded at you, waiting for you to continue.

“I am aware the timing couldn’t be any worse, but…I’ve been thinking. I know you don’t truly want a war. And I think, the path that would have the least resistance, is a marriage pact.”

She raised a brow, setting her hand on yours. “A marriage pact? Between who, my love? You?”

You nodded. “I am of age, and Luke and Jace are betrothed. I think it would be easier and less divisive to the family, if we were to offer my hand.”

“To whom?” She asked, and you fought the heat creeping to your cheeks. She gave you a small and knowing smile, squeezing your hand.

“I see. Don’t worry yourself with the matter, love. It is a conversation for later. I won’t ask anything of you unless it is entirely necessary. Just rest, for now.”

You nodded, settling into your seat.

Of course the peace had to be disturbed, as it inevitably always is. You supposed you knew it wouldn’t have lasted. You had had a pit in your stomach from the minute your brothers left on dragonback, and it finally was catching up to you.

Daemon rushed in, searching for you. “Meraxes is on the hilltop.”

Your Mother quirked a brow. “So? Doesn’t she spend half her time up there?”

“Not like this,” Daemon said, looking at you. “She’s restless, irritable. She seems like she’s looking for you, Y/N. You know that dragons are connected to their rider, and they can feel when you’re in distress, just like you can feel when they’re in distress. So tell me the truth, do you feel something right now?”

You felt your stomach drop at his words, and warily nodded. Your Mother sat up straight.

Daemon took your hand, getting your attention. “Tell me now. What are you feeling?”

“I don’t know,” you shook your head. “I’ve had a pit in my stomach since the boys left. I thought I just missed them, I couldn’t pin the feeling down as worry.”

“But not for your grandmother? Just for the boys?” He asked.

“No, not her. It was after seeing Luke, he seemed nervous. But he ought to be, it’s his first time without guidance, he’s doing this alone.”

“Y/N, listen very carefully. I need you to focus hard. What does Meraxes know that you don’t? What has she seen that you haven't?”

“I don’t understand–”

“Focus, my love, please” your Mother said, taking your other hand. “Are the boys in danger?”

Your heart ached for your Mother, knowing she couldn’t bear to lose another child. You closed your eyes, thinking hard. You let your thoughts wander, feeling your connection to Meraxes. Suddenly, you opened your eyes, gasping.

“She saw Vhagar. She must have flown near Storm’s End. Aemond will be there by the time Luke arrives, he may already be there.”

Your Mother put a hand to her stomach, like she was going to be sick. “Oh, Gods.”

Daemon squeezed your hand. “You know him better than anyone. Would he truly hurt the boy?”

“Are we willing to risk it? I want to say I don’t think Aemond is capable of doing it, but I didn’t think he was capable of standing by while his brother usurped the throne. I’m going.”

You turned to leave the room, but your Mother stopped you.

“Wait! You don’t know what you’re walking into. I will not risk two more of my children.”

“Mother, please trust me. I will be fine. Meraxes won’t let any harm come to me. She is the biggest dragon in the world, even Vhagar doesn’t stand a chance against her. If Vhagar is truly what has Meraxes so unsettled, then I’m going. I won’t risk Luke not acting on a feeling.”

“Y/N–”

“I hope to the Gods that I am wrong, that Aemond has not fallen so far. But if he has, I am all that would stop him. Luke and Arrax need me. You said that I am to remain here until Meraxes is necessary, and now she is. I would rather expose Meraxes to the Greens than regret hiding in the shadows. I will be back soon, Mother, I promise. And I’ll have Luke with me.”

Your Mother sighed, gripping your hands in hers. “Y/N–”

“Please,” you interrupted, squeezing her hands. “I can do this.”

She choked back a cry, pulling you into a hug. “Alright, fine. But be quick about it. You turn back at the first sign of danger. Get in and get out, don’t antagonize Aemond. Promise me.”

“I promise,” you nodded.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Daemon asked, a look of worry set on his face.

You shook your head. “We can’t risk anyone else, and the Queen is the most important thing now. I’d rather have you by Mother’s side than with me. I’m praying that this is just a feeling, and that I’m wrong, but if it’s not, I won’t risk you, too. I’ll be careful, I promise. I’ll be back soon.”

You pulled the both of them into a tight hug, before marching out of the room. You ran to the hilltop, approaching Meraxes. She had yet to be saddled, but you had no time to change that.

“It’s time to go, my girl,” you called out as you climbed up her wing and onto her back. “Sōvegon!”

Fly!

Meraxes took to the skies, soaring into the clouds. You gripped her tight as you clung to her, willing her to fly as fast as she could. With her size, it would not take long to reach Storm’s End. Hopefully, you’d arrive soon after Luke.

You tried not to think about all the horrible possibilities as you brought a hand up to shield yourself from the rain. You could hardly see, but you shook your head, blinking back tears. You were going to make it in time, and Lucerys was going to be fine.

By the time you reached Storm’s End, Luke and Arrax, as well as Aemond and Vhagar, were nowhere to be found. You looked around in confusion as you circled the castle, before directing Maraxes to fly upwards. Maybe there’d be a better look from above the rain clouds.

As you reached the top of the clouds, you scanned the skies for any sign of movement. Suddenly, a dark figure passed below you.

Vhagar flew through the air, Aemond mounted on her back. “Daor, Vhagar! Rȳbagon naejot nyke!”

No, Vhagar! Listen to me!”

You heard a dark rumble below, followed by a cry, and you finally spotted your brother just ahead of Vhagar, scrambling to get away.

You panicked, swooping down. You had hoped to manage somehow catching up to Luke before he arrived, turning him back so Aemond never saw Meraxes. But seeing Vhagar fly recklessly, her jaws open, and Aemond doing nothing to stop her, you knew you had to step in.

“Dracarys!” You screamed, pointing Meraxes towards Vhagar. You knew it wouldn’t stop her, but it would at the very least distract her. Meraxes breathed fire, cutting Aemond off from Lucerys.

“Keligon! Dohaeragon aōha āeksio!”

Stop! Serve your master!

Aemond looked to you in shock as you flew between Vhagar and Arrax, blocking Luke and Arrax from view. Vhagar tried to go around you as Aemond desperately pulled on her reigns.

“Keligon! dohaeragon aōha āeksio! Submit, Vhagar!”

You are not her equal.

Meraxes roared, spreading her wings to their full span. Her eyes were blazing, her teeth bared. She was showing her dominance, and Vhagar seemed to recognize her ancestor. They had flown together in the time of Aegon’s conquest, siblings being their riders.

Now, they were at odds, just as their riders were.

You turned to Luke, who had just narrowly escaped death.

“Go home, Luke! I will not ask again.”

He shook his head. “I won’t abandon you.”

“Lucerys, please! I’m begging you. Go home, now! There’s no time for this. I love you. Arrax, henujagon! Jikagon arlī naejot Zaldrīzesdōron. Obey!"

Leave! Go back to Dragonstone.

Meraxes roared, a sound so loud it seemed to vibrate the very air itself. Arrax submitted, turning and flying in the opposite direction, taking your brother with them. With Meraxes blocking them from Vhagar’s view, they escaped.

You kept your brother guarded, Meraxes reclaiming dominance over Vhagar. She finally submitted, going still. Aemond relaxed his hold on her reins, his eyes wide as he watched you command his dragon.

You felt nothing but rage as you hovered in the air, glaring daggers at Aemond.

“Have you lost your fucking mind? He’s my brother! My baby brother, and you were just going to murder him in cold blood? Take on the title of kinslayer? How far you have fallen, Aemond. Never thought I’d see the day.”

Aemond shook his head, still bewildered, staring at Meraxes. “H-how–”

“Meraxes was still alive, in a cave off of Dragonstone. I claimed her. She’s mine now. Tell your brother he should be scared,” you said, turning to follow your brother.

“Wait!” Aemond called, and you reluctantly listened. “I wasn’t trying to hurt him. Vhagar, she wouldn’t listen to me. I couldn’t stop her.”

“But you chose to chase Luke, did you not? Taunt him? Was it worth risking his life? You’re so lucky I arrived in time. I would never have forgiven you if you got him killed. I can hardly stand looking at you as it is. Tell me, was the King’s body even cold before your little plot to crown Aegon was put into motion?”

Aemond looked desperate, shaking his head. “I had nothing to do with that, you know I wouldn’t wish it. I despise my brother more than anyone.”

“And yet you did nothing to stop it. Are you going to look me in the eye and tell me you did your best to prevent it? Because if you did, it would be my Mother sitting on the Iron Throne, not that usurper bastard.”

He was silent, knuckles white as he gripped the reins.

You almost laughed, scoffing. “Nothing to say? Your actions today could have single handedly started an all out war. My Mother may be considering civility, but if she lost yet another child because of your selfishness, your betrayal, it would have been the spark that ended in cities drowning in blood. And it would have been all your fault.”

Aemond’s brows furrowed. “Another child? You cannot mean–”

“Yes,” you said, your voice dripping with venom. “Your mother’s betrayal nearly killed my Mother. She lost the baby…a daughter. Visenya.”

His face softened, and you willed yourself not to cry. Despite your anger, you still cared for Aemond, so deeply. It hurt, seeing him look at you with such gentleness. It hurt to still love him. Your chest was tight, your heart in your throat, and an immovable pit in your stomach. What you would have given to turn off your feelings for him at that moment.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. Truly, I am. I never wished for this.”

You furiously wiped a stray tear, shaking your head. “I don’t want to hear it, Aemond, I really don’t. I can’t even stand the sight of you. Gods, to think…to think that I…”

“That you what? What, Y/N?”

Your face was cold. “To think that I was going to ask my Mother for a marriage pact, to offer to the Greens. As much as I hate you all for what you did, I couldn’t bear witnessing your deaths, all over a fucking throne. I was going to ask, so I didn’t have to see any more of our family caught in the crossfire.”

“A marriage pact? Surely you cannot mean you’d practically sell yourself into a loveless marriage just to appease my brother. To whom? To whom would you ask?”

You nearly rolled your eyes at his obliviousness. “To you, you fucking idiot. Would I ever choose anyone else?”

His eyes widened at your words, shock evident upon his face. “Me? Why in Seven Hells would you ever pick me?”

“Do I have to spell it out for you?” You asked. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Now he was getting angry, too. “I should say not? But do enlighten me. Why me, not anyone else?”

You nearly screamed, you were so frustrated. “Because I fucking love you, you complete and utter fool! You, and no one else, despite my best interest.”

You brought the heels of your hands to your eyes, covering them. Your voice was much softer now.

“It’s always been you. Don’t you know that?”

Aemond was in shock now, his jaw slack. He felt his heart pound at your words, watching the girl he had loved for so many years, practically offering herself up to him on a silver platter. He felt sick to his stomach.

“No,” he shook his head. “Not like that. I will not have you like that, only in it to protect your family from further harm. I will not allow you to bind yourself to me.”

You felt a sharp twinge in your chest at his words, not meeting his eyes. “I am not enough for you, then? You couldn’t find it in yourself to settle, if not for me, then for the sake of our family?”

“Settle?” He asked, exasperated. “How could you think that? Have I not made my affection for you abundantly clear over the years? You, Y/N…are more than I will ever deserve. There is not a man in this world worthy of you.”

He nearly laughed now, shaking his head. “Do you really question that? Of course I love you, too. Which is why I won’t let you do this to yourself.”

“It is not your choice, Aemond! It’s mine. And I choose you. I always have. Do not mistake the loyalty I have for my family as contempt for you. This was no one’s decision but my own. And yes, you’re right, if it is what prevents our families from further conflict, I would do it in a heartbeat. But I would have asked one day anyways, regardless of if this happened or not. You’re my family, too.”

“Then let’s ask,” he said, his voice soft, causing you to meet his gaze.

“What?”

“Let’s ask our mothers. Surely it is the best course of action. I love you, and you say you love me. If it is really true, what other choice do we have? I can think of no better proposal to return to my mother with. Our family cannot truly be at war, if we bind it further with a betrothal. What’s the worst that can happen?”

You shook your head. “You’re serious?”

“Of course I am! I’ve been waiting to hear you say those exact words for years. This is not how I imagined it to be, but I imagined it, no less.”

You were quiet for a moment, staring at him. You narrowed your eyes.

“I’m still furious with you. This changes nothing. You still betrayed me.”

“And I will spend a lifetime trying to make up for it, if our mothers allow. I know I hurt you, and there aren’t enough words I could say to tell you how sorry I am. But, please, let me try. Let me do this for us.”

Your brain was screaming, trying to tell you how irrational you were being. But your heart was aching along with it, and you couldn’t take your eyes off of the man you loved. You sighed, your voice thick with emotion.

“Fine. Ask your mother, and I’ll ask mine. But this is your one chance, you won’t get another. Aemond, if you so much as think of pulling something like this again, that’s it. I’ll never forgive you for it.”

“I wouldn’t blame you. I love you, Y/N. And I promise, I will spend every day trying to show you that.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, your heart aching at his words. “I love you, too. So much. Don’t make me regret this.”

“I won’t. I promise. Go, tend to your brother. Tell your mother, and I'll tell mine. We can do this.”

You nodded, brushing the tears off your cheeks. Aemond gave you a small smile, filled with awe and adoration. You couldn’t help but smile back.

“I’ll properly introduce you to Meraxes when this is over,” you said, smoothing your hand down her spine. “I think you’ll like her.”

“If she’s anything like her rider, I’m sure that’s true. Go now, Y/N. I’ll see you soon.”

You nodded, tugging Meraxes to turn around. She roared, acknowledging Vhagar, before turning to fly back in the direction of Dragonstone. Vhagar turned as well, now facing the way to King’s Landing.

You both flew in opposite directions, silently begging the Gods to show mercy on you both. You didn’t think you could handle another heartbreak if this went wrong. All you could do now was cling to Meraxes, and hope that your love for Aemond was going to be enough.

If your luck was half as good as you and Aemond’s love for each other, it would be.

—

A/N - Hi! I’m so sorry this took so long, and I’m sorry about how long it is, I got carried away. Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know what you think.

#house targaryen #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #game of thrones x reader #games of thrones #game of thrones imagine

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missglaskin · 2 years

Text

Yandere (HOTD) Targaryen/Velaryon/Hightower family (together) HCS

Part 2

Mainly Platonic but (Though there are talks of marriages to some characters)

Note: Literally wrote all of this while half-asleep, sorry for the all the grammar mistakes, too lazy to read over

Rhaenyra would probably be the one to bring you into the family. The bond between you and her will be similar to that between her and Alicent, but rather than Alicent crossing the boundary between friend and almost sisterhood, Rhaenyra believes you are the sister she never had. Also, you were so much younger than Alicent. Given that Rhaenyra constantly talks about you, Aemma and Viserys would be interested in meeting you. Initially, the two would correct Rhaenyra, saying that you weren't her 'sister,' but eventually they stopped and encouraged her to treat you like one.

As much as Aemma and Viserys grew to love you as their daughter. There is a sense of lucidity that you already have a family and that taking you away from them would be just as cruel. Rhaenyra wouldn't consider this a problem and insists that you live with them from now on, even suggesting that you share a room with her.

Daemon witnessing the whole ordeal would be angry and annoyed. Neither Targaryen nor Velaryon were you. What rights do you claim to be considered one of them? To be considered a blood of the dragon? He’ll voice his displeasure, which will cause Viserys to react with fury. Daemon may have even tried to get rid of you more than once, but somehow, someway, you were able to convince him otherwise.

Daemon, now being into the picture and accepting you as a member of the family is both a blessing and curse to Viserys and Aemma. Even though they're sure he won't harm you and will be as protective of you as they are, if not more. In response to this, Daemon will demand to spend time with you, and due to his unpredictable nature, he may take you away, hence why Viserys has guards watch you at all times to ensure this won’t happen.

Also Daemon’s idea of protecting you varys differently from Viserys and Aemma. Despite Aemma and Viserys' desire to protect you, they also wish to grant you freedom. In addition, they wouldn't mind you getting married as long as the person is trustworthy and you are with them. In contrast, Daemon desires to keep you locked and not be pursued by any potential suitors. He also suggests getting rid of your biological family. Interestingly, only Rhaenrya shares his views in some sense.

The Velaryon family comes into the picture through Rhaenys, who initially approached you with curiosity, intrigued as to how you might have charmed her cousin. Over time, though, Rhaenys became so fond of you, taking every opportunity to spend some alone time with you. You are soon introduced to Laenor and Laena, who warmly welcome you. Though he was understandably wary of you at first, Corlys eventually came to appreciate you just as much as Rhaenys did.

With the Velaryon family, you are showered with gifts and adoration. You'll receive the most exquisite jewelry and silk from Corlys, and Rhaenys will dress you in it while complimenting how lovely it looks on you. Laena is the most physically affectionate member of her family, holding your hand while both of you walk through the garden. On the other hand, Laenor is the most needy; constantly showing off just so he can have your attention.

Aemma and Viserys surprisingly handle the news of the Velaryon coming into the mix quite well. They, along with Corlys and Rhaenys, agree on a schedule where both families get the chance to spend time with you. Though Rhaenrya and Daemon didn’t take to the arrangements well. The two are just as possessive; breaking rules so they can spend more time with you.

Alicent was the one who first introduced you to the Hightowers, her family. Like Rhaenyra, she grew fond of you and soon began to think of you as her "sister." Otto, who had a strong dislike for you, tried to persuade the king that bringing you in would be a terrible idea. Furthermore, the notion that you were Viserys’ daughter was absurd. But like the others, he soon warmed up to you and began to play a fatherly role.

Daemon caught us to this and if it wasn’t for Viserys’ intervention, he’d have done something rash. Only Corlys and Rhaenys took Daemon’s observation seriously. Given how ambitious the Hightowers were, one can only imagine what they might do to get you. They all agree to keep an extra eye on you (which they already do), but unfortunately, the Hightowers gain the advantage after Aemma’s death.

Both; Viserys and Rhaenyra found comfort in you following the death of Aemma. Which made it hard for Daemon to take you with him after he was exiled, as you were rarely left alone. But he promised one day he’ll. And surely, after that, Viserys announced he’ll marry Alicent. A betrayal that caused Rhaenyra to cry into your arms that night and for Corlys to leave; a decision that pains him as it means leaving you as well. Like Daemon, he promises to also take you with him one day.

After longing to be your sister, Alicent found it strange at first to be your "stepmother." However, she quickly adapted to it. Once even saying that you were her child and the king's, which incensed Rhaenyra. It became one of the factors contributing to the deterioration of their friendship. Also, this allows Otto to grow closer to you, to which he then introduces you to his brother, who eagerly welcomes you into their family.

As they’re a Targaryen family, Alicent suggests that you marry one of her sons when they come of age. A suggestion that Viserys turn down, knowing the wrath Daemon and Rhaenyra might bring if he agrees to do so. Otto also suggests marrying a member of his family as well as Corlys, with his son being the ideal match. All of which Viserys turns down once more. Whatever decision he makes, it might lead to war.

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sleeplessdreamer123 · 1 year

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Fanfic Idea! (If Lucerys was the one without a dragon)

Lucerys had always heard the word. Bastard. There were many whispers of his and his brothers' bastardy, their hair, their eyes, their skin, nothing of thier features showed any sign of Targaryen or Velaryon. In fact, they shows more signs of being the sons of a certain "strong" guard.

It was worse for Lucerys, however. He looked at his cold dragon egg, his hope of it ever hatching long vanished. He was jealous of his brothers. Jace's dragon Vermax and Joffrey's dragon Tyraxes hatched in their cribs, but his didn't. While they have their dragons, a proof that though they didn't have the traits, they are still, undoubtedly Targaryen, of Old Valyria. Lucerys however, has nothing. And it was what made so many look down on him. Even his uncle Aemond, who he deeply loved and shared a close bond with due to the fact they both had no dragon to call their own, called him a worthless bastard after stealing the dragon meant for his cousin. Maybe that was why it felt so easy to cut his eye out. A part of him hated what his uncle have done, and a part of him hated that his uncle took a dragon and turned on him as well.

He felt nothing when he saw the wound he inflicted the next day, felt no guilt when he and his family left for Dragonstone. He was betrayed by the one he thought would see him as family despite his lack of dragon, and now he sees that Aemond never saw him as family at all. Mayhaps he laughed in secret, when he told him his deepest fear of never having a dragon, of never being accepted as a Targaryen, or a Velaryon. Mayhaps he secretly jeered when they would comfort each other, holding their cold eggs as they watch their brothers with living dragons. He hated that he might be right. He lived in Dragonstone for a few more years, trying his best to learn how to be the perfect Velaryon heir, because that was all he could cling to. And he needed to do great. Without a dragon, this was all he could do.

It was Daemon, his now father, who told him he could claim the dragons that lived in Dragonstone. Grey ghost, Sheepstealer, maybe even Seasmoke, since Laenor had long been gone. Lucerys didn't feel like he could bond with those dragons. They didn't feel...right. But he wanted to claim a dragon, the right dragon, to prove to his uncle that he too was of Valyrian descent. So he asked for more details, are there any other dragons without riders in Dragonstone? And Daemon listed the names and places they were last spotted. None interested him, until he hears the last one, where Daemon, fearless man that he was, hesitated. Cannibal. A dragon who feasts on his own kin. And suddenly, it felt perfect.

It was hard, looking for Cannibal's hiding place, but once you find the skeletons, it's hard to ignore the trail. When Cannibal saw him, he roared, but Lucerys stared at him with determination. Slowly, he presented the egg, his egg. One that never hatched.

And after a few moments, where they stared each other down, Cannibal roared again. Lucerys' heart raced, believing he made a mistake, that Cannibal would burn him to dust, or would eat him and the egg alive, not even leaving a bone for his family find.

He was ready to run, not caring how futile it would be. He was ready to escape. Except he didn't need to.

Cannibal took the egg from his hands, and crushed it with his mighty maw, swallowing it without any problem whatsoever. When Lucerys reached out for Cannibal, in stupidity or blind hope, he really doesn't know which, Cannibal allowed him to touch his coal black scales, though his green eyes looked at him with the wildness that would never be tamed. In some part of his mind, he thought that Cannibal was quite the handsome dragon. He really must have lost his mind. That was what his parents and siblings gold him when he returned. Rhaenyra immediately hugging him once he got off, and Daemon looking both shocked and impressed. Cannibal was made to live outside of the dragon pit, to protect the rest of the dragons from his hunger.

Soon, the whole of Westeros found out that Lucerys Velaryon, the bastard, dragonless son of Rhaenyra, tamed Cannibal, the most dangerous wild dragon in the seven seas, surpassing even Vhagar. It was a sick rush, a dark satisfication, to have the better dragon than his betrayer uncle. Soon he will show him, show them all that he was worthy of being the descendant of Old Valyria.

#lucemond #aemond x lucerys #lucerys velaryon #aemond targaryen #lucerys x aemond #aemond one eye #where lucerys claims cannibal

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the-desilittle-bird · 11 months

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Hello my darling! If you don't mind, I'd like to ask for something similar to "For a Better Future", but for the prince Daemon. Maybe even a little more tragic... Thank you very much! Love you!

AN- Took me some time but here it is... set after Rhaenyra's wedding to Laenor; with the assumption of Rhea still being alive and Daemon not marrying Laena (My fearless love ❤)...

Thank you and Enjoy your reading!

For Them

Daemon Targaryen x Sister!Reader

Summary- The ghost of past never leaves; it comes back to haunt, in a way or the other...

Tag List- @minaxcarter, @eliseline, @blackhoodlea, @little-moonbeam-666, @neenieweenie, @omgsuperstarg, @avalyaaa, @shopping, @bbgmonsay, @michelle-26, @krokietinio, @hc-geralt-23, @chevelledahuman, @thekayarlene, @narcy, @helloitsshitzulover, @muushwrites, @daringboba, @bi2simps, @issybee0611, @yariany02, @agathe, @5moremin, @candypurplebutterfly, @saraelizabeth26, @moon-light1415, @targaryenmoony, @stargaryenxshelby, @instabul, @shine101, @hyacinthus007, @mcam623, @eudximoniakr, @carissa_griffin7777, @marvelescvpe, @severewobblerlightdragon, @deltamoon666, @thatgirlthatreadswattpad, @ultrav0lence, @savagemickey03, @sunmoon-01, @literishdegree99, @watercolorskyy, @Lady-Juliettes, @cherryaemond, @chaotic-fangirl-blog, @nats-whore

Warnings- Quite Angsty and Daemon v/s Otto

GIF Credits to @leave-me-colourless

Life has been a living imprison of hell for Daemon in the last few weeks. His claim on the throne is gone and now, his niece becomes the claimant of the Iron Throne and his brother's titles once he leaves the world to join their ancestors in fire.

His bronze bitch has written to him; threatening that if something is to come to their daughter than she shall have his head for it. The audacity she possessed to write those words to the Lord Commander of the Gold Clocks.

His daughter. The sole good thing in his life, is busy dancing and laughing at something amusing; lively and happy in her own little world, with her selfless cousin.

(Y/N)'s eldest son.

He and his little sister have always been close, since her birth honestly. Their parents always content with how Daemon would stick to her side; protecting her from everything. Viserys found it amusing but who cared?

The closeness turned into a sweet relation between them where love manifested underneath sarcastic comments and eye rolls. But then, Daemon found out of the pleasures he could experience in the Flea Bottom. The pleasure houses and taverns became his second home; and (Y/N) grew distant to him.

It was to no surprise that she wished to protect her dignity and reputation in the court of Jaehaerys, their dear grandfather. She was his favourite, also their grandmother's. And why would she not be? She was a great lady, with sharp features of Old Valyria and wits to match them.

After the Old King dies and Viserys ascends the throne, Daemon proposes to marry his sister in the traditions of their house and of Old Valyria and continue their bloodline as a man and wife should; but he was far too late.

Otto Hightower, the cunt of man and the Hand of the new King, had already asked for the princess' hand in marriage; unifying their houses with a holy union.

Daemon had almost murdered that son of a bit h that day, if only the King's Guard hadn't restrained him and (Y/N) hadn't asked him to stop. Tears slipped past her cheeks as she assured him that all was fine; that she was fine, everything was.

And soon after that night, he found himself marrying Rhea Royce and consummating their marriage in a drunken haze; moaning his sister's name instead of his lady wife's. That night was enough to make her bear his child; his daughter.

He had watched silently from the shadows as the Hand married his sweet sister; consummated the deed on their first night and impregnated her with his seed. Three children, he counted, and fourth on the way.

The eldest of them, a boy bearing the name of their father, had took an interest in his daughter, Alyssa. They made a beautiful couple together, Daemon had to admit, but they resembled them in the worst way.

Alyssa had took after her father, inheriting nothing from her mother but her sharp wits and bold statements. On the other hand, Baelon had nothing of his father; everything in him was his mother's, everything (Y/N)'s.

"They look beautiful together."

Tears brim up as he turned to the serene face of his sister, heavy with the Shittower's child... again. Daemon had noticed that the Hand wasn't as blind as his brother; letting (Y/N) recover fully from her previous pregnancy before moving on to another.

At least something isn't bad about him.

"They resemble us." The grunt was loud, capturing the attention of all who sat on the table. Alicent. Otto. (Y/N)'s third child, Saera and Viserys. But all the lady did was dismiss them with a smile as she turned to her dear brother; a protective hand on her bump as she spoke.

"Isn't it the beauty of it?" She queried, wisdom lining each word of hers, just as their grandmother. Daemon had always loved that about her; how she took a small piece from their dead ancestors. May it be their mother's rebellious nature; or Alyssane's wisdom.

"I see no beauty in it; but only tragedy," he whispers, reaching for his cup of wine which he gulped down in three huge sums. Turning back to his sister, he only focused on her face; one which was turning much identical as their mother's as she aged.

"We can change their fates, Dae. We only need to fix our broken relationship," she replied calmly, placing a hand on his shoulder as he rolled his eyes. From his peripheral view, he saw Alyssa grab Baelon's collar, leaning up to place a chaste kiss on the corner of his lips.

"How can we? Your husband won't let his son marry Alyssa," he growled, watching as Otto kept a vigilant eye on their children. "Baelon isn't just his son. He is equally mine and he will marry whosoever he wishes to."

A silence fell upon them and Daemon was catapulted back in the times when they would ride their dragons together; acting to be Aegon the Conqueror and his sister-wife Visenya. Those were the times of delight; where they were just themselves.

"For them, Daemon."

"Fine," he grunted, his eyes burning into hers as she smiled brightly at him. Her fingers squeezing his hands reassuringly, before standing up with a slight groan.

"I would have loved to go riding with you, but this little one has made walking hard for me," he hears her say, which only made him laugh as he shook his head. His hand hovered over her enlarge stomach, eyes glancing up in a silent permission.

"Go ahead."

Caressing her bump softly, he felt the baby move inside her; a light sensation of it kicking just beneath his hand had him tear up as he smiled. During the time Rhea was with Alyssa, she never let him come near her, lest touch her bump. To feel the sensation father's expect to feel the most; it filled him with ecstasy.

Standing up, he turned to watch their sweet children together. His eyes softening as he saw the reflection of young Daemon and (Y/N) dancing in front of him; happy and beside them, was a Lord and Lady. Both old and happy.

The scene was almost metaphorical; a past they had and a future they could have had if he had been quick in front of him. And while he would forever mourn the future he didn't have, Daemon was grateful for the moments spent in her arms; of peace and solace and love.

"For them."

#house of the dragon #house targaryen #hotd imagine #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x reader #daemon x you #daemon targeryan #daemon targeryen x reader #daemon targaryen

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meraxesmoon · 9 months

Note

general headcanons for yandere daemyra?

note: i write sm daemyra yall would be shocked to know I'm a rhaewin stan

warnings: yandere content, daemon, all of my works are rhaenyra-centered, idk I like her more

┍━━━━━━━ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗━━━━━━━┑

♡ I always imagine that it's Rhaenyra that falls for their darling first. Whether it's someone she's known since her childhood or someone she meets during her time married to Laenor while in Kings Landing. Rhaenyra needs someone who makes her feel comfortable, so once she finds this person, she definitely keeps them close.

☆ Daemon, on the other hand, only meets their darling after he and Rhaenyra get married. Rhaenyra would bring her darling to Dragonstone with them, and Daemon notices his wife's tenderness for her servant (or lady in waiting, depending on the circumstances).

♡ And he's just kind of like, "Okay, my wife has someone to keep her company when I'm gone."

☆ That's pretty much the extent of Daemon's relationship with their darling until a certain point. I've mentioned this before, but if their darling were to be tender with Daemon's children, he would melt, especially if it were Viserys. Baela and Rhaena are older now, and I have an HC that Daemon is especially close with their youngest son. He spends a lot of time with Viserys, and if their darling were tending to him sweetly, Daemon would take notice of that.

♡ Daemon, once getting fully interested in their darling, will bring it up to Rhaenyra. He wants to move their darling into their marriage, and you don't exactly have to do much coercion with Rhaenyra. She's completely on board. She adores her sweetheart and often fantasizes about living a domestic life with them and Daemon, along with the children.

☆ I've mentioned this several times, but they would want to marry their darling in a traditional Valyrian ceremony!

I have the worst earache rn and am in the hospital 🤣

#cw: yandere content #cw: yandere blog #cw: yandere #yandere daemyra #yandere rhaenyra targaryen #yandere daemon targaryen #yandere team black #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere content #yandere hotd #yandere house of the dragon #yandere #kay writes #rhxegal

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em-writes-stuff-sometimes · 1 year

Text

butterfly (fade away) │ Daemon Targaryen x Rhaenyra Targaryen x Reader

See my Masterlist for more works!

Please note: this is a ONE-SHOT unrelated to my terms of endearment series.

Synopsis: After their marriage, your older sister Rhaenyra and Uncle Daemon take wardship of you on Dragonstone. You enjoy your time with them - until one night, when everything changes. Nothing will ever be the same again.

Triggers: r*pe/non-con, age gap, purity culture, incest, breeding kink, drugged sex.

You enjoy living with Rhaenyra and Daemon.

At first, you had been very uncertain about the change in your routine. Still grieving the loss of your beloved good-brother Laenor, you – like all others in the Realm – had been utterly shocked by the announcement that your sister had wed your estranged uncle within mere days of his wife’s funeral, of her husband’s horrific death. What had ensued in the immediate aftermath, you know not; only that, near two sennights after the messenger had delivered the news, you had been called to your father’s rooms and informed that you were to be given as a ward to Rhaenyra. You travelled to Dragonstone post-haste.

Rhaenyra and Daemon immediately took a great interest in you, something that both pleased and unnerved you greatly. Your sister had had little time to spare you in the previous ten years, and you could scarcely claim to know your uncle beyond vague recollections of childhood and the stories told across the capital of his numerous exploits. To have both pay such close attention to you now was thrilling and confusing. From lessons in High Valyrian to walks along the beach; from countless requests to break their fast with you to evenings spent in laughter and peaceful drowsing; your time is filled up completely by them.

What might have been stifling to others – the stream of sweet pet names and the knowledge of their eyes fixated upon you and the feel of their hands glancing across your form – brings you a sense of peace, of security. Of love. You have always craved your family’s love; you shall not turn it away now.

It is one such a night that you find yourself in Rhaenyra’s rooms, a cup of wine held loosely in your fingers as you sit curled up on the chaise near the hearth.

“… and, if you would believe it, husband,” your sister is saying archly, “your daughter turned to me and claimed that she could do as she likes, for her father would hardly seek to curb her.”

Daemon chuckles. “Attagirl,” he remarks teasingly, eyes flashing at his wife and smirking as she scoffs in playful reproach. He takes a healthy swig from his own cup. “I’ve taught her well.”

“Baela can be your problem, then, seeing as how this particular trait is one you’ve cultivated so keenly, uncle.”

The room is warm. You are clad in your shift and robe, but even with so few layers the temperature is stifling; you can feel the flush simmering beneath your flesh, hot and clammy, but you cannot bring yourself to move to cooler climes. Truthfully, you do not even know if you are capable of moving. Your limbs feel loose, gelatinous, as though the bones have dissolved and you are naught but skin and muscle suspended in the air.

“Darling? Are you well?” You peer hazily at Rhaenyra, who has seated herself beside you and placed her hand to your forehead. You make an affirmative noise – you are fine, just relaxed. It comes out garbled and incomprehensible, and you frown slightly. She glances to your uncle. “Daemon.”

Another set of fingers introduce themselves to the cup in your grasp, drawing it from you. Daemon’s eyes are dark as he presses the rim of it to your lips, coaxing you wordlessly to finish the contents within. You splutter as the rich, bitter liquid swirls in your mouth, taking small swallows to force it down.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, lips quirking. “Do you feel nice, sweetling?”

It is so warm, but the feeling is lovely. Your eyes flutter shut, the heat lulling you towards a gentle doze.

“Stay awake, sister,” Rhaenyra’s voice floats in the space between you. A cool palm presses itself to your cheek, and you look through blurred vision to see her face a scant few inches from yours. Her breath brushes along your skin as she speaks. “We want to play a game with you. Do you want to play, darling?”

You want to sleep, but she looks so serious. Caught up in the desire to please, you nod, though it is less a coordinated movement and more of a tipping forward. She chuckles breathily as you pitch into her shoulder, tucking your head to the side so that you are staring directly at your uncle. He is impossibly tense, gaze wild and breathing loud, as though he is restraining himself from something. You blink slowly at him.

“Come here,” Rhaenyra whispers, tipping your chin up.

You squeak as her mouth touches against yours in a manner that feels far less chaste than you remember familial kisses being. It is as though you are a marionette and she holds the strings, for you can do nothing else but let her lips glide slickly against yours, her tongue prodding between your teeth and licking into you. You make a weak sound, huffing against her at the twist of strangeness that shivers through you.

“Look at you both,” your uncle murmurs lowly, and you quiver at the sensation of his hand against your neck, brushing your hair from your shoulder and caressing paths along the exposed skin. “My pretty little nieces.”

Something hot and wet maps along the flesh of your throat, and the tickle of hair that is not your own brushes along your cheek. It feels good. You cannot make sense of it, but it feels good. Your belly swoops as you are lifted bodily from the chair, though you can only hang limply from whatever it is that is holding you aloft. The room feels cooler as you move further from the hearth.

You loll listlessly while hands turn you upright and fumble with your clothing, made difficult by the necessity of propping you up – without secure support, you will surely crumple bodily to the floor, a bird with clipped wings.

“Fuck,” Rhaenyra curses, and the vulgarity prompts a choked-off noise from you. She stares stunned and avaricious at you, as though you are the last lemoncake on a near-empty platter. “You’re perfect, aren’t you?”

Confused, you track the path of her stare down to your own form.

“Oh,” you peep. You are naked. When did that happen?

That wet feeling slides along your shoulder again, a rumble vibrating through your skin.

“These tits,” your uncle husks, and those iron bands of warmth at your hips glide up, up, up to cup the swell of your bare breasts, plucking at your nipples and making you cry out. Your head tilts back, overwhelmed. “They’ll look even better filled up.”

“Wha–” you start to say, but you are cut off by the feel of much rougher lips capturing your own, a kiss that is more aggressive and domineering than your sister’s had been. You whine into his mouth, arching subconsciously into the sensation of his fingers playing maddeningly with your nipples, rolling hard peaks between the digits and making you uncomfortable between your legs. “Ah!”

“Daemon,” Rhaenyra says urgently, and the world tips around you once more.

When your vision clears, you are on your back and staring up at the canopy of your sister’s bed. You are laying on something soft; you hum, rubbing your fingers along the surface below you, indulging in the pleasantness of it. There are slick sounds coming from a little further away. You can make out the vague forms of your sister and uncle – they might be grappling with each other, you suppose, though you cannot find it within yourself to care. You keep stroking the bed beneath you.

“Legs up,” a discordant voice sounds – a woman – and hands and arms reposition your body without your control. You let them prop your thighs over something, sighing at the feeling of fingers petting along your flesh. A burst of coolness puffs at those forbidden parts of you between your legs, and you wriggle nervously. “How wet this little cunny is.”

You whimper as you watch Rhaenyra’s head disappear between your thighs, and you think it must be her tongue that swipes through the mess that leaks from that part of you that belongs to your future husband. You know not why it is being so sinful now, and you try to tell her that she ought not be touching this spot upon your body. It is for your marriage bed.

She laughs, though it is punctuated by a groan.

“Your sister wants a little playmate for Aegon, poppet,” Daemon interrupts, hunched over your sister’s back and rocking against the side of the bed. His hand fists itself in her hair, shoving her back down into you, and you bleat as her tongue renews its efforts at parting your folds, at swirling through the source of your slick, at prodding something shocky and sensitive at the cusp of your mound. He grins. “But her milk won’t dry up, so she can’t make another babe yet. Don’t you want to be good and help her?”

“I–” You are overwhelmed, dizzy, hot and cold and sick all at the same time. You think you might need to make water, for something is happening below that you do not understand. “I don–”

“You love babes, darling,” Rhaenyra reminds you, voice scratchy and higher than you have ever heard it, jolting oddly at intervals. Her entire body is jerking against yours in tandem with the movements of your uncle at her back. “Don’t you want one of your own? A pretty, sweet thing with your face and uncle’s smile? How lovely it would be.”

She punctuates her statement with a hard lick straight up the split of you, making you shudder.

A babe. You do want one when the time comes. A whole little person just for you, one that you would name Viserys or Aemma or Alyssa or Baelon or Daella. You even have a small collection of items from your childhood you have saved for your future children – for one day. Not today. You try to press these thoughts out through your mouth, but the sounds will not form into words.

Your uncle chuckles, lurching more frantically against Rhaenyra, so much so that you shake from the tips of your breasts to the heels of your feet, tensing and vibrating between your legs. Your sister vocalises into your – your cunny – licking and suckling and even nipping with sharp teeth, a feeling that should not feel so good but does.

Something pops there, and you yelp as the intensity barrels through your spine and locks your toes into a curl, your blood thundering through your veins.

“Well done,” Daemon praises, grasping Rhaenyra by the hips and dragging her up. You realise with dim shock that he is coupling with her right in front of you, that it is far quicker-paced and rougher than you had ever thought it like to be. Her breathy ‘ah ah ah’ sounds seem to suggest she enjoys it. “Get that cunt nice and soaked for my cock, little girl. I’ll get to you in a moment.”

You watch as he reaches below her body and makes some kind of movement that sets her howling, jerking fully in his hold before slumping with her head on your belly, panting heavily. He steps back, and she laves along your navel mindlessly for a few moments before rolling to the side, shuffling up to lay beside you.

“Wh’ – Rh’nyra?” you slur, the vowels in your speech lost in the effort it takes to force each noise to fruition. She laughs, capturing your jaw in her hand and leading your face to hers. “’m – c’nfused,” you whimper into her mouth.

“Shh,” she soothes, tugging your knee up to your chest and holding it there, tracing lines across your lips with her tongue.

You can taste something earthy and piquant in her mouth – your own filthiness from below, from before – and rather than make you cringe, you release a shaky sound, stomach curled up so tightly you cannot tell if it is desire or nausea that drives you. She swallows it all, coaxes your lips to pucker and chase and dance with hers, silken hungry sounds that throb low in your belly. A weight settles on the bed beside your outstretched leg, in the hollow between your thighs, and you tremble at the calloused fingers that nudge into your folds.

“Fucking hells,” Daemon grunts, fondling the spread petals of your cunny, pinching the pearl of sensation at the top of your womanhood. “You’re dripping. Knew you wanted this, you little slut – just had to get you relaxed enough to do away with that damned courtesy of yours.”

You let out a tiny sob as the mortification washes through your addled mind, trying to twist away from his touch. Rhaenyra shushes you again.

“It’s alright, darling,” she reassures, kissing against your slack mouth. Your foot kicks in mid-air when something hot and hard and far too thick follows the path your uncle’s fingers made, jabbing threateningly against the place built to yield to men. “Uncle’s going to give you a babe now, isn’t that nice?”

“No,” you lament, attempting to lurch to the side, to roll to your belly and drag yourself away. But Rhaenyra has you hooked under her arm and Daemon has you pressed against the bed, raised up over you with his hand fumbling ominously between your parted legs. You are a butterfly, fluttering helplessly in spite of the pins that promise to shackle you down until your fight fades away. “No, no, no no no nonono–”

The white-hot poker shoved straight through you steals the sound from your chest and the breath from your very lungs. It is too much, too much, and you fear you might die from it even as your uncle lets out a base, animal groan above you. Your eyes fill with tears, blurring the shape of him into abstract washes of colour – silver, violet, pale, the crimson of the canopy.

“How does she feel?”

“Fff – fucking tight, gods–”

“Don’t spend yet, Daemon – poor thing, look at her–”

“Come here, sweetling,” Daemon croons, flattening himself against you so that he can lick into the open gape of your mouth, tangle his tongue with your own unresponsive one and work you into a tentative rhythm. You cry into him, you cannot help it, and when he pulls away his face is wet with your tears and the run from your nose. “It’s alright. The worst is over.”

“Hurts,” you hiccup, unable to do anything but lay there. You weep as he withdraws and pushes back in, spreading salt across a raw wound, grinding himself through your freshly-broken-in core. “St – sto–”

“Don’t be ungrateful,” Rhaenyra chides, turning your head back to her. Her expression is gentle, sympathetic as it is disapproving, and it makes you want to bury yourself in her arms and let her comfort you, to sink into the role of a nursling at the breast and be lulled by the hum of a lullaby and the soft contentment of a mother’s love.

I want my mother, you think desperately, unsure of whom you even mean – if you refer to Aemma, or Alicent, or even this sister before you who lays back and lets her husband defile you. I want my mother.

“It won’t hurt for long,” she adds. “Besides, uncle’s been very patient; he deserves a reward.”

“I have been, haven’t I?” he agrees, tipping your hips up and driving down into you, punching little yips from you with each thrust. His eyes gleam almost maniacal in the low light, the mad triumph of a man willing to commit countless atrocities to get his way. “Wanted to fuck you since I saw you on Driftmark - that ridiculous high-necked dress you were wearing, fuck - but your sister had the better idea. Get rid of Laenor, wed each other, then steal you out from under my idiot brother’s nose.”

Your mind is awash with horror even as your body gives way to the pain and lets pleasure take over, each strike of his hips against yours pulsing shudder-hot through your rippling walls and pulling you along the current to bliss once more. You hate it – hate the way you have become a whore in the bed of your sister and uncle, that you are finding enjoyment in the arms of those who would confess to murdering someone so dear to you simply because he was in the way of their covetous ambition.

Did they ever really love you?

Their attentions make sense in the worst of ways. Of course, they had no regard for you – they wanted your body, and now they have it. You are ruined, spoiled, and if you were in your right mind you might fear what will become of you now that your maidenhead has been stolen.

“Feels good now, doesn’t it?” Rhaenyra laughs, and it takes you a moment to realise that those high-pitched whimpers you can hear are in fact coming from you. “Uncle has the best cock. You’re a lucky girl.”

“You say the sweetest things, wife,” Daemon responds sardonically, and Rhaenyra leans up to kiss him. It is shocking, lewd, filthy, and yet you cannot turn away from the sight of them moaning into each other’s mouths. He does not stop his hips rocking into yours, the thud of his appendage sharp and burning against the very end of you. The slick sounds of slapping flesh make spots appear in your vision, exciting and sickening all at once. “Give her a kiss. I want to see my nieces playing together.”

She grins saucily as she bends back down to follow his command. You sink into her touch, allowing the feel and taste of her lips to banish the disjointed cacophony in your mind. A slender finger trails down your belly and catches your pearl, swirling deep circles into the tissue that make you mewl and pant.

“Are you going to peak for me, darling?” Rhaenyra says against your mouth excitedly. You keep your eyes shut, not wanting to see the victory that no doubt paints her countenance, the smug demeanour of a princess whose every whim is catered to. “I want to see you come on Uncle’s cock – go on.”

It is not until she moves to take your nipple in her mouth and suckle hard that you break, a fresh wave of sobs punctuating the attainment of that pure, unadulterated bliss, a raw nerve laid bare and bullied to satisfaction even through pain and torment. You choke on air as Daemon drives you through the end of it, grunting and groaning atop you at the clench of you around him. He sinks his teeth into your throat, pinning you down with the threat of clasping his jaw into your flesh should you attempt to bolt. It is not as though you are capable of it; whatever they had put in your wine has made you dull and slow and stupid.

“Yes,” he hisses, slurred and muffled through his teeth. He pumps harder, the bed creaking with the sheer strength of his onslaught. “This little cunt-”

It hurts now. Anything pleasurable about the feel of his body in yours has dissipated, leaving only the awareness of scraping wounds and too-stretched muscles forced to contort in unnatural positions. But you are a prisoner within your own body, caged in your own head and forced to take everything he will give you. You bite your lip so hard that you can taste blood, and you let the metallic warmth fill your palate.

He spills with an echoing growl into your skin, harsh punching jabs deep inside you that shove his seed right up against your womb, right where you want it least of all. You want a child, but not like this. Not here, not now.

“Fuck,” he pants against your shoulder, finally stilling. You stare up at the canopy, at the still silence of the fabric draped high above you. “Gods, that was fun.”

“It was, wasn’t it?”

You try to block it out, but you cannot escape the sound of their conversation. Taking you against your will is fun? The casual disregard with which they treat you sinks into your bones, a scar that settles so deep within you that none will ever unearth it. And nor can anyone heal it.

“Don’t cry, precious,” your uncle coos, extracting himself from you with a hiss and dotting gentle pecks beneath your eyes. He collapses beside you, drawing you into his chest – you have no choice but to follow, limbs loose and uncooperative with the concoction they had dosed you with. “You were a very good girl.”

You are ruined, now.

“No,” Rhaenyra says, and you realise you must have said it out loud. She settles behind you, chin tucked to your shoulder and palm stroking softly over your belly. She smells like home, and it makes you ill. “You did exactly what you were meant to. I’m sorry we had to trick you, but this was the only way to make sure we could marry. Don’t you see, darling? Now we can all be happy.”

Happy. Can you ever feel happy again? Your hands are loose fists against Daemon’s chest, primed to strike but unable to garner the vigour to carry through. He kisses the top of your head. You do not feel warm anymore.

“My two little wives,” your uncle hums, petting Rhaenyra’s hip and sliding to yours. She giggles, muttering some agreement.

A pinned butterfly, fluttering helplessly and shackled down.

You close your eyes, and your fight fades away.

Read it on AO3 here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/44969953

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