Accidental Targ
Scene I: you guys into roleplay or what? | Masterlist
Daemon Targaryen x Modern!Reader
Summary: There was a party at the old castle ruins which raised the talk of an old urban legend. As the lore goes, upon the strike of midnight, for one whole minute, the arch, which used to be the entrance to the castle gates, would be a portal back to the height of the Targaryen dynasty. Of course, that complete and utter rubbish.
Word Count: 4k+
Warnings: fem!reader, time travel au, descriptions of reader's hair, incestuous gremlin!daemon, crackfic, typos. etc.
A/N: The lore of this is actually based off an urban legend from the high school i went to, which is like 400+ years old, thus the ruins and portal back in time HAHAHAH
Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony @risefallrise @slavyanskiyahui @fan-goddess @daemons-kelitsos
The truth is, maybe I was a little too drunk to remember exactly what happened between the grinding in front of the DJ booth and game of dare or die, but I do know for a fact that I was incredibly lost. I recognized none of the landmarks that I stored in my head, and by the looks of it, I had wandered so far from the party I was now at the renaissance fair in town. Fucking Libby.
I pull out my phone from my tiny, glittery clutch bag and sling its gold chain around my shoulder. I go through my contacts and begin to ring Libby, heaving as I walked through the square.
The sound of the bustling people filled my ears. The night market was very much alive; it both gave me comfort and great anxiousness.
A bunch of people holler at me, calling me princess and my lady. I ignore them and continue in silence.
There was suddenly a wet squelching sound that snapped me out of my focus. I freeze in my spot, "fuck." I let out a groan and pull up the flare of my pants, "ohh fuckkkk."
These hot pink gogo boots were brand new! And now they were hot mess gogos, caked in fucking mud.
I tug up my shimmery and equally pink bell bottoms, doing my best to evade the rest of the mud in the area. I tread carefully, not wanting to further ruin my clothes or slip and fall on my ass.
I blow my hair out of my face. They really just had to add mud for the authenticity, huh? I comb through my silver hair after I get through the brown sludge.
Where the fuck is Libby?
I feel another wave of anxiousness creep up on me as I grow acutely aware of the people staring. I stand by the side of the street and stare at my phone. I release a breath and feel an ominous atmosphere thicken around me. I look around, catching a bunch of eyes staring back at me, and shift uncomfortably. I furrow my brows and clutch my purse and phone tightly, deciding I did not feel safe in this area. I begin to walk again.
I curse my phone when I see the no signal notification and cautiously put it back in my rhinestone bag. I adjust my leather jacket and wrap my arms around myself.
"Fucking hell, Libby," I mutter to myself as I muster courage to make it though the crowd so I can eventually get out of it.
I brush my locks back and wipe the sweat building at my nape.
I reach a less congested place and stand by a pillar next to a building. I observe the people in their old timey clothes and costumes, not a single other person dressed in modern clothing. I figure it was cause it was pretty late and they must be closing up their booths any time now.
I tug the collar of my silver halter top and turn to the side. Immediately, I spot a butch man, clad in armor and a cloak. I stare at him for a moment and think, wow, that's a really good costume. I find myself deciding he was pretty good looking too. I instantly look away when he catches me starting.
I clear my throat, wrapping my arms around myself. My jacket tightens around my arms. I clutch my bag in my chest again.
Wait, if he's dressed like that, does that mean he's, like, a guard or something? Maybe I can ask for his help to look for Libby.
I clear my throat and steal a look again, and to my horror, the man is making his way towards me.
In my panic, I shift and face the opposite direction. My flight response kicks in, but before I could bolt, he comes to my side and speaks.
"Speak your name and business, stranger."
I pull my head back and look to the man. He stares at me as brush my bangs away from my face. Why's he coming off so strong, "what?"
The man looks at me through his stupid helmet and furrows his brows, "speak your name and business," says he, rather threateningly.
Hold on. Is he for real? If this was supposed to be part of his weird-ass dialogue for his roleplay thing-- or, heaven forbid, a pickup line, dear gods, it was not about to work on me.
My initial response was to be extremely hostile, but after taking a deep breath I decide against it. I hit him with an uno reverse as raise a brow, "what's your name and business, soldier?"
His dark brow quirks at that. He says nothing for a moment.
His over-the-top golden cloak flows back, as does my platinum hair when a gush of wind blows. I make a face when I catch a whiff of something rank. I rub my nose and push my curls back behind my ear. I re-pin one of my golden clips to keep my tresses in place.
The solider shifts in his spot. "I am not a solider--" ok, not a soldier, "I am an officer of the city watch," he shakes his head, "Ser Harwin Strong," he raises his nose, "and my business is your business."
I pull my head back. My jaw slacks.
I clear my throat.
Why he kinda-
I sniffle, very much not at all expecting that response. Well, I guess maybe his pickup line kinda works... And well, I mean, he kinda cute so-
I tell him my name and then tell him I lost my friend after a round of dare or die and now I'm looking for her.
"Dare or die," he repeats rather seriously.
I shrug and shake my head, "it's just a stupid game."
He hums, "and your friend, she is as... strangely dressed as you?"
I raise a brow again, tightening my crossed arms, "says the man in armor and a gold cape."
Harwin makes a face.
I chuckle softly. Not expecting that, were ya?
I huff. Ok, my bad. I know these renaissance people really get into it, and, yeah, I mean, he was right. I was in a glittery silver halter top, hot pink bellbottoms and gogo boots with a leather jacket and a bedazzled clutch. I was an LSD trip. He had his schtick and I had mine.
"Yeah, no, eh," I look around, "she's in black skinny jeans and a fuchsia, like, off-shoulder situation. It's pretty hard to miss her, which is why I have no idea why I can't find her anywhere."
"Off shoulder?"
I turn to him as he mutters this.
I give him a look then motion, "yeah... like, it's cropped here," I move my hand by my shoulders, "and it has ruffles and-- OH! Also she has blue hair!" I raise a finger, "it's really, really hard to miss her."
Harwin looks at me like I just told him my friend was secretly Hannah Montana.
I am about to respond when suddenly we snap to the side as someone calls out, "Lord Strong." A man in a grey cloak nods at Harwin and turns to me, "you're looking for someone, yes?"
I blink at the man with a hood, trying to get a better look of his shadowy face. Immediate no.
I slowly nod though after he stares too long. I don't like the fact I can't make out his face.
Hood man tilts his head and walks off.
I stand still in my spot as he makes his way down an alley.
What the fuck was that? Tsch. Am I a dog? Did he honestly think I'd suddenly follow him just cause he tilted his head to the side?
I turn to Harwin and with a sour look. He looks back at me and tilts his head to the side. Not him too!
I huff in disbelief, "you want me to follow him?"
Harwin makes a face, "it would be wise if you do."
"Why?! What, is he-- does he work here?"
"In the marketplace," he looks around and shakes his head, "no."
I think for a second. I huff, "is he one of those people that do the lost and found things. Can he help-"
"OI!" a voice cuts me off. We turn to the side again and hood man is back. He quips, "do you want to find your friend or not?!"
Well why didn't he just say so?
I nod and shrug simultaneously, finding myself following after him this time around. The things I do for love. I mean, it's a renaissance fair! They... they're just a bunch of weird nerd guys that have never felt the touch of a woman.
I gulp. Okay, maybe not the soundest explanation as to why I think I won't get kidnapped.
For someone who wants to be followed, he sure moved like he wanted to lose me. I jog up behind him and grab his arm, "slow down! I've been on my feet for hours."
He slows then stops. He looks at the arm I was clutching.
I release a sigh, "do you have a name, manager?"
He turns from his arm to me with a scowl, "what?"
He pulls away just as I release him. I clarify, "do you work at, like, HR?"
He stares at me for a moment. I stare back, vaguely seeing his face from the shadow of his hood. He somehow looks familiar, like... like a less hot version of Matt Smith. He turns front and walks off again, "and what would HR be?"
I huff and follow after him. The whole in-character thing was really getting on my nerves. I rack my brain for what HR's equivalent would be in this day and age. I shake my head, "I don't know... public servitude? Public Relations? Okay, no, that's PR-"
Hood man eyes me, "PR..."
I slow my pace as I think. He rolls his eyes and grabs me by the wrist, dragging me as he takes us off to wherever it was we were headed.
"Good government?" I said questioningly.
He snorts, "good governance, you say?"
I look up at him and find a small smirk on his lips, "well, actually, I said-"
He mutters, "I am certainly not one of those."
"... okay... ... Mr. Edgelord."
He shoots me a look but does not respond.
He takes me to a dark backstreet and for some reason, I didn't think it strange up until we entered. The place, I kid you not, was a brothel. From the moment we stepped in, there were people making out and getting way further than second base in front of my very pure, unwilling eyes.
This was it, wasn't it? Would it be in bad taste to say at least I died in a cute outfit? No, wait, you're right. It would be in great taste. Purr.
Immediately, my hand goes to my eyes and I choke out a squeak, "oh dear fuck, is this legal?!"
Hood man turns to me and stops for a moment. He drags me again, "are pleasures illegal where you're from?"
I peak through my fingers, finding that we were headed for a flight of stairs. "For fucks sake, this is the dangerous type of pleasures, sir," I struggle as I try to keep my eyes closed and opened all at once.
"How dull," he looks over to me once as we go up the stairs, "danger is a form of respite."
I make a face, "yeah well-" I gasp when I nearly miss a step. Hood man yanks me up so that I don't fall. I sheepishly look up at him and was about to thank him, up until I see a bunch of dudes going at it on the second floor. I cringe, continuing my train of thought, "--tell that to STDs."
"STD..." he mutters under his breath.
Hood man takes us to a room that is empty, save for a woman with long dark hair. She looks at us as we enter, then turns to our joined hands. Upon catching this, I pull my hand away.
Hood man turns to me then to her, "show her the girl."
The dark haired woman side steps and immediately I gasp, "Libby!"
I run up to the low bed she was laid upon. I brush her damp bangs back and she immediately groans.
"Your friend was drunk and nearly attacked by some men," the woman explained, "they backed off when I told them she was one of mine."
"Homaygosh," I look over my shoulder and pant, "I- thank you for helping her."
Her expression softens a fraction. She mentally notes the reaction.
I look back to Libby and adjust her pink top. "She's a ditzy drunk," I sigh, brushing her damn awful blue hair, "which was why I followed after her. I didn't expect her to come this far."
"Far you say. Where are you from?" the man asks.
"We came from the party in the old castle ruins."
"Party?" she says just as he says, "ruins?"
I turn to them and stand, "yeah, the old castle up the cliff," I point to nowhere. I look between them and huff when they look at me wordlessly.
The woman turns to hood man. They speak to each other telepathically it seems.
I release a breath, "okay. I get it. You guys are into roleplay. It was a-- celebration dance... event."
They turn back to me.
"Thank you again for helping her," I turn to Libby, back to the woman, "what were your names?"
I offer a smile to hood man as I introduce myself.
He does not offer me the same courtesy.
Hmp.
The woman places her hands in front of her, "I am Mysaria," she says and I smile at her. She smiles back then turns to him. We both look at him for a hot second.
Hood man does not respond.
"Okay then..." I shift awkwardly in my spot, "well, thank you, Mysaria and... sir...."
"What house do you belong to?" he utters.
"What," I pull my head back, "house?"
He does not clarify but looks at me expectantly.
I make a face and think for a moment. What does he mean? I am hit by a sudden realization. But surely he doesn't mean this? "Uhm... ... ... Gryffindor?"
"Gryffindor?" his face contorts in thought.
I nod slowly, "that is what you mean, right?"
Mysaria crosses her arms, "where does house Gryffindor hail?"
What?
My eyes pinch in confusion. I raise a finger, "like... which part of Hogwarts do they stay?" What the- "I don't know! This is entirely too nerdy for me to understand. Also, I was never really a potterhead."
"Potter head?" hood guy asks.
I roll my eyes and sigh, "okay," I wave my hands, "since we've already broken the forth wall and you've broken characters-"
"Characters-" he mutters.
"-can I borrow a phone? Mine says no service," I lean towards Libby and begin to shake her awake, "or if any of you are heading back to the city, can we just hitch a ride?"
Libby groans as I shake her.
I hiss, "girl, get your ass up."
The man scoffs then chuckles. He walks over to me, "girl, I think you are sorely mistaken."
I straighten up and involuntarily squeak when I find him right next to me. He is so close that I finally see the color of his eyes, even though the room was quite dim.
"OCA4," I blabber.
He knits his blonde brows, "what?"
I step back, cursing myself for remembering that stupid fact from grade 6 biology, "you- you have violet eyes," I gulp, "it's a recessive trait."
The man blankly stares at me for a second.
Great. I've really done it now.
He narrows his eyes then looks me once over. "Issi ao doru-borto?" he mutters. Are you stupid?
"Hey!" I raise a brow, "I am not."
His expression slips. He is evidently shocked, "you know High Valyrian?"
Mysaria's eyes widen.
I place a hand on my hip, "I'll have you know, I took High Valyrian as an elective, but everyone knows what doru-borto is."
I turn back to shake Libby again, but instead, I am snagged by the arm. Hood man yanks me towards him and mutters, "gūrogon nyke naejot se pryjata."
I twitch as alarms go off in my head. Instead of shaking him off though, my mind buffers at the barely recognizable words. I try to make sense of it and slowly translate, "take me... ?"
He tilts his head and completes it, "take me to the ruins."
I pull my head and arm back. He does not release me. I clench my jaw at this. I huff, "you can't miss it. Just go up th-"
"I want you to take me there."
I begin to get increasingly agitated, defensive, and tired, "look, sir," I place my hand on his iron grip and push him off me, "I really appreciate your help, but we should get goi-"
"You will not go anywhere with your companion unless you take me to the ruins which you speak."
I freeze at his words. I stare at him, taking in his stoic expression. His look was as serious as explosive diarrhea. I feel my entire body flush with dread. I look to Mysaria for help, but it was instantly clear by her expression that if there were sides, she was on his.
I shudder and pull the hand I had atop his, finding no point in trying to free myself from his clutch, "so what?"
His brows furrow. A challenge?
"I take you there," I word carefully, "and then I come back, and you let us go?"
He takes in my expression. He scans my hair as it slips from my shoulder. He looks at the golden pins by the top of my head then releases me. I rub my arm as he brings his hands in front of him. He shifts on his leg.
I clench my jaw, "well?"
"So be it," he retorts.
"So be it?" I scoff, "swear it."
He tilts his head and narrows his eyes. His lips curve slightly, "what?"
"I need to hear you say you will not harm her," I add, turning to Mysaria as I say this, "please."
Mysaria's face softens though she knits her brows. Hood man laughs and it makes me glare at him. Mysaria looks to the man as he says, "I swear."
"On your life," I quip mindlessly with an air of fake confidence though my heart was pounding. I was well aware that if he intended to do us ill, no amount of words would save us. Still, it was good to hear it.
In all honesty, I am surprised when he retorts with, "on my life and my honor."
I find myself shaking my head, "okay then."
"OK..." he repeats slowly.
I do as he says, since I don't really have much of a choice.
I lead the man, or rather he leads me out of the grimy establishment (my poor eyes), and then I lead him up to the ruins.
The walk is silent, as I am no longer keen on fostering any type of relationship with him.
He stays a few paces behind me but I can very much feel his lingering presence.
As I do my best to retrace my steps, I slower each passing 'landmark', or lack thereof. We pass a church that was way smaller in my memory, and the large oak tree I was looking for was nonexistent.
Eventually, I come to terms with the fact I was lost and just try my best not to show it as I navigate the landscape through instinct.
When I was about to fess up, I glanced upon a building I knew for sure had scaffolding when I passed it earlier today. See, aint no way they finished the renovations that quickly.
I pick up the pace, following the directions I remember taking and my breath hitches. My jaw drops and my eyes widen at the sight of the full blown fortress before me. What the fuck.
I let out a breath to calm myself but I can no longer mask my panic.
"Who are you really?" hood man mutters.
I snap to my side and clutch my chest as the man steps closer. He pulls me toward him by ripping at my dangling purse. I helplessly topple forward.
"Are you a dreamer?" he reaches out to my face and brushes my silver hair back, "emagon ao rēbās rȳ jēda?" Have you walked through time?
I pull away from him and swat his hand off, "don't touch me!"
He recoils as I glare at him and catch my breath. He pushes his hood down, revealing his face and long, alabaster hair tucked behind his cloak, "and why wouldn't I? Blood of my blood."
What? I pull my head back and wrap my arms around me as I step away. This man is insane.
"Ēza iā nādrēsy hen ñuha lentor issare āzma isse Gryffindor?" Has a bastard of my house been born in Gryffindor.
My body flinches when bells begin to toll.
He takes my panic to his advantage. He grabs me by my arms and forces me close. My boots skid as I come to an abrupt halt. My hands dart to his chest, "I-I don't know what you're saying."
He presses closer to me, uncaring of how my palms repel against him. The bells ringing put me further on edge.
"Where were you born, little dove?" he mumbles softly but I find malice in it.
I feel my eyes begin to water as my breath strains. I don't know why he asks me this, and I don't know why I answer, "K-King's Landing."
He lets out a deep chuckle and nods, "how many years after the Conquest?"
"What?" I shake my head, "why do I have to-"
"Kesrio syt aōha dārilaros epagon." Because your prince asks.
"Dārilaros?" I mutter lowly.
The bells stop ringing. Suddenly, I remember that stupid urban legend about the castle arch. Wait. I look at the man's face and risk looking over to my shoulder. As I turn my head, I see the locked gate with the same motif of the arch I went through as I chased after Libby when she was dared to go through the stupid thing.
I chuckle manically. No. NO. That's fucking insane. Realistically speaking, portals that open at midnight are not real! It's stupid! Nonsensical!
And also, yeah, if people say the ruins has an arch that'll take you back two thousand years, maybe don't go through it. I mean I didn't! I- I was following Libby! I-
He hums and nods, "kessa, dōna run, iksan aōha dārilaros," he brushes my hair back. Yes, sweet thing, I am your prince.
My eyes widen. Is he being for real? Be so fucking for real right now.
I open my mouth but I do not respond. Suddenly, it's like I'm back in high school, giggling with my seatmate over the pictures of the Rogue Prince. What the fuck.
He takes in my expression and smirks.
"D-Daemon?"
He howls in laughter, "very good-"
"What the fuck?!"
"-you know me even where you're from," he smirks.
"You're a really good cosplayer!" I wrangle out of his grip, "and this- this is a really elaborate set!"
Daemon the cosplayer lets me break away and I wipe my face as I snap some sense to myself, "I must be dreaming-"
"Mmm, a flattering thought," he laughs
"-I'm fucking roofied!"
"But, I assure you, I am very real."
I shudder as I pant and pace around. This can't be real. I look up to the wall. But this fucking castle is so fucking real. I grunt and walk over to it. I hiss and pull my hand back when I touch the stone; it was as if it burned me.
No. No. No! This is a renaissance fair! A- a medieval cosplay event! A fucking- a fucking-
"Gīda ilagon," he mutters, grabbing arm.
I turn to him as I brush my hair back in frustration. I whimper, "what?"
"Calm down," he strokes my arm, looking at the clip that slipped off my head, "I will not harm you."
I raise my brows at his words.
"After all," he grabs my clip and readjusts it in my hair, "what kind of forbearer would I be if I harmed my sweet little girl?"
I hang like a pirated CD, "I beg your pardon?"
He chuckles, stroking my cheek.
I feel an immense heat crawl up my face in realization, "y-you think--" I'm a Targaryen?!
Aint no fucking way.
I laugh nervously, "right."
That's why he's been helping me?!
"I must say, I am happy to know the princess lives in excess," he brings his hands to the collar of jacket and pushes it away. He takes in the glitter of my halter top and smiles when finds the skin of my shoulders, "very good."
I shriek and shove him off.
He chuckles as he recoils, raising his hands in surrender.
I wrap my arms around myself as he takes in the rest of my outfit. Oh my gosh, man doesn't know about plastic.
When his eyes dart back to my face, I realize he must think my golden clips were actual gold. I mean, thank you?
"I took you to the place," I quickly sputter, "I'm going back and leaving with Libby now."
He gives a lopsided grin, "I see no ruins before me, princess."
I shiver. I'm in danger.
Suddenly, I think about how Daemon was said to be misunderstood, that most of the things he did, historically, were out of love. He wasn't actually a bad person-
"You said you weren't going to hurt me," I mutter.
"No," he chuckles, "what I want to do to you doesn't have to hurt."
My eyes widen. I raise my hands, "Prince Daemon, please-"
"All in good time," he smirks and undoes the ties of his cloak by his collar.
My heart races, "no- please-"
"Shhh," he shakes his head and throws his cloak over my shoulders, "on my life and my honor," he ties the string around my neck, "no one shall touch a hair on your head," he smirks, "none but I."
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