#Daemon Targaryen ff | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wh0reforcoriolanussnow · 10 months

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Daemon x oc, where oc is alicent's 4th child and her favorite, but the oc also inherent Otto's scheming skills and so much better than him and overly can't stand rhaenrya and knows that rhaenrya likes daemon so she goes for daemon and daemon falls harder for the oc AKKKK and rhaenrya pov where she realizes that she is losing daemon to her much younger half-sister, please 🥺🫶

Half-Blood Rivalry || D. Targaryen x oc

GIF by @mad-witch-moon DIVIDERS by @straywords

a/n: tysm for this request!!! anons please continue to send me requests pls!!! I hope you guys are happy for Catarina to play oc as Rhaella :) also please imagine that this takes place in ep 2. when rhaella is born is around the time daemon is banished for taking rhae to the brothel. rhaenyra hasn’t married laenor or has children yet.

The youngest child of Alicent Hightower and Viserys Targaryen was sweet Rhaella. When Rhaenyra first held the girl when she was only a babe, she had a strange feeling about her half-sister. As years went by and both girls no doubt got older, Rhaenyra could not seem to shake off the uneasy feelings she felt towards her youngest sister.

“Happy Name Day, sweet child” Alicent goes on her tippy toes to kiss her youngest and—anyone with eyes could see— favourite child. “Thank you, mother,” Rhaella kissed her cheek. It was then her father’s turn. Rhaella and Viserys had always had a complicated relationship, the two never seemed to see eye to eye, quite similar with her other siblings.

Rhaella and her siblings knew that their father didn’t favour them as much as he does with Rhaenyra. Nonetheless, Viserys was still her father and he cared for him.

“Happy name day, sister” Rhaenyra bursts through the doors of the throne room with a drunken smile. Everyone in the room stared at the platinum white haired Princess in shock. Her appearance was dishevelled and she reeked of alcohol. It was only morning.

“Are you quite alright Rhaenyra?” Alicent raises an eyebrow as she looks the Targaryen up and down. Rhaella lets out a scoff. Typical Rhaenyra. “Quite so, I wouldn’t dare miss seeing my dear sister on this special day” She raises a cup towards the younger who rolls her tongue against her cheek in annoyance.

Rhaella looks to Viserys, a wide grin on his face making her scoff. Rhaenyra somehow always seems to pull Rhaella’s buttons without even realising. In her opinion, she was a stuck up Princess that was never grateful of what was given to her.

Rhaella could not stand her older half-sister, maybe it was because of the fact that their father always placed Rhaenyra on a pedestal and could never do anything wrong in his eyes. Placing a fake smile on her pretty face, Rhaella speaks up. “Thank you Rhaenyra, your presence here means so much to me” She pops a grape in her mouth.

Otto lowly chuckles yet shakes his head lightly at his granddaughter’s tone. There was no denying that out of his four grandchildren, Rhaella too was his favourite. The young Targaryen was very much like him in many ways, even better in some aspects you could say.

There was silence at the table for a bit as they all ate, when all of a sudden, the doors once again opened. This time, Ser Harrold walked in. “Your Grace, he’s back” Was all the kingsguard said. Rhaella and her siblings stop chewing their food and look to their father.

Viserys wore a shocked face before standing up quickly and walking away. Rhaella looks to her mother in confusion as she gives her a sad look and rubs her arm. “Father, where are you going?” The young Targaryen turns in her seat as she watches him walk away. What even stung the young girl was the fact that he didn’t respond.

“Daemon’s back” Rhaenyra says to herself with wide eyes. “Don’t be silly, uncle Daemon has not returned to court in how many years?” Aegon questions as Rhaella replies, “Since I was a babe” She shrugs. “But who else would Ser Harrold have referred to? Did you see father’s face,” She humorously scoffs, “That was Daemon alright” Rhaenyra shrugs.

“Enough talk about your uncle. It is Rhaella’s name day and I want you all behaved for her birthday celebrations today” Alicent sternly speaks before continuing to eat. The Targaryen siblings all give each other one final look before going back to their meal.

It was the night of Rhaella's name day where a huge feast was held. Alicent demanded the celebration to be extravagant for her favourite child. You could have mistaken the event as the King's name day.

Rhaella sat beside her mother and her siblings beside her, Rhaenyra on Viserys' side. When her father stood up to announce a speech, he was interrupted by a figure walking into the throne room.

It was no one other than Daemon. Young Rhaella had not seen him all day, him showing up there was her first time seeing him really as she could not recall him when she was a born.

Of course, the Targaryen often heard stories about her uncle. He held a bad reputation and yet everytime anyone would speak of him, Rhaella always found herself wanting to hear more about her uncle.

He sauntered in with a smirk on his face. "Brother, I thought you weren't going to come" Viserys puts a smile on his face as Daemon stands in front of the table, his hands clasped together. Rhaella could have sworn she saw a glint of mischievous in his eyes.

She looks up towards her father, than to her half-sister. Rhaenyra had a look on her face that Rhaella couldn't quite fathom out. "And miss my dear nieces' birthday celebration? How could I do that to Rhaenrya" Alicent gasps in disbelief and Aemond chuckles under his breath, a kick under the table from Otto shut him up.

"I think your mistaken dear uncle, it is not Rhaenyra you should be wishing a happy birthday, but me," Rhaella irked, crossing her arms. Daemon's eyes move to her. She watched him study her before a grin makes it to his lips. "Apologies...." He trails off, "Rhaella." "My brother failed to mention which niece of mine was celebrating. After all, I have little memory of his children before I left."

Rhaella nods her head politely, he was offered a seat at the end of the table near Rhaenyra. She couldn't help but notice her half-sisters' wanting eyes to Daemon. The young Targaryen knew of what had happened when she was born. In terms of Daemon and Rhaenyra.

But she did not expect her to still long for her uncle, after all, Daemon was gone for nearly 20 years. The whole time as they all feasted, Rhaella felt eyes burning into her and everytime she looked, Daemon shamelessly stares with a smirk on his face.

"I think I would like to dance," Rhaella says before standing up and making her way to her sworn knight, Ser Harwin. "A dance Ser Harwin?" The princess looks up at him with a smile. "It is my pleasure, princess" He smiles back as they start to dance, not knowing a certain Targaryen's eyes were fixated on the two the entire time.

"Your daughter is quite pleasing to look at, Alicent" Daemon chuckles to himself, his eyes still not leaving Rhaella. Alicent nearly choked on her drink as she glares at him. "My sister is nearly half my age uncle!" Rhaenyra laughs.

"Mhm, a shame indeed" He mutters as he taps his fingers on the table. Rhaenyra stares at her uncle in disbelief. The princess opens her mouth but shuts it again when Daemon stands up and makes his way through the crowd to where Rhaella and Ser Harwin were dancing.

"Might I have this dance, princess?" Daemon whispers against her ears as she breathed heavily from dancing. Rhaella gives a small nod to Harwin as he backs off and now dances with Daemon. "You know, you've grown quite alot," He starts off. "Thank you for pointing the obvious uncle," She rolls her eyes playfully, "Into such a, beautiful woman" Daemon finishes.

Rhaella smiles, "Thank you, I assume-" She was cut off by Rhaenyra who taps her shoulder, "Can I steal our dear uncle, sister?" She questions as she doesn't even bother looking at Rhaella, only Dameon.

The young Targaryen looks between the two before nodding her head. She walks away not before locking eyes with her uncle before his gaze floats back to Rhaenyra. "Did you just get told to bugger off, sister?" Aegon laughs as Rhaella approaches the table and smacks his head. "Ow!" He groans, rubbing his head. Alicent shoots a look to the eldest.

"I believe our dear Rhaenyra is still infatuated with Daemon" Rhaella tilts her head. "Not surprised, the way she was eyeing him the whole time, I thought she'd eat uncle on the spot" Halaena says concerned as Rhaella and her brothers laughed loudly. Deep down, Rhaella couldn't push aside a strange feeling as she watched her sister and her uncle dancing and laughing together.

“Do you jest, sister?” Rhaella’s mouth hangs open at Rhaenyra’s idea that she had created in her head. “What? Daemon and I are made for each other. We have blood of the dragons coursing through us. Not to forget, he wanted me before he was banished by Father” She paces back and forth in her room.

The young Targaryen only blinked a few times before laughing. Rhaenyra glares at her younger sister. “S-sorry,” Rhaella wipes the tears that escaped from laughter, “Do you still think uncle longs for you? Forgive me for saying this Rhaenyra, but you are no longer a maiden.” Rhaella tilts her head.

“Daemon might have lusted over you at one point but yet again, he did take you to that brothel and just left you there. And now he’s back after what? twenty years and you still think he has his eyes on you?” Rhaella’s jabs stung the elder. Her words were like knives to her heart.

“And what do you suppose? That he’s got eyes for you now?” Rhaenyra raises an eyebrow at the younger. A small smirk forms on Rhaella’s lips, “Time will tell” “Don’t tell me you like Daemon, Rhaella. You just practically met him!” Rhaenyra’s voice loudens. To piss her even more, Rhaella simply shrugged with a playful smile.

“Daemon would make a dutiful Husband wouldn’t he? All that experience and….. well you know. Plus, mother has been pestering me about marriage. What better way to honour her wishes of me staying close to home then marrying our deal uncle?” Rhaenyra scoffs at her half-sister. “Daemon will never want you, you wouldn’t even dare to approach him with those silly intentions-“

Rhaella stands up and storms to her older, and still slightly taller, sister. “Watch me dear sister. Watch me marry Daemon in our old valyrian ways and bear his children. Watch me live a life you only ever got to dream of.” She calmy says yet still, venom laced her words.

Rhaenyra stood still in shock at her sister’s words before opening her mouth, “You are a horrid person.” She said through gritted teeth. Rhaella only wickedly smiles before turning around and walking off. As soon as the door slammed shut, Rhaenyra grabbed the closest object which was a vase and aimed it at the door, shards flying everywhere.

Rhaella stood outside the door with a proud smirk on her face. It was finally time to put her older sister into her own place. She walked through the hallways of her home before she bumped into something hard. “Watch where-“ Rhaella shuts her mouth as she’s met with his figure. “you’re going..” She trails as he smiles at her.

“Rhaenyra is still in her bedchambers” She mumbles massaging her head. Before she could move to the side to leave, he takes ahold of her forearm. “It is not your sister I wish to see but you, princess”

“What could you possibly want to see me for, uncle?” She spoke, her arms folded and her head slightly tilted. “Am I not allowed to spend some time with my niece? After all, I know nothing of you” He says, his eyes wandering nowhere near her face.

Rhaella smirked. She hummed before replying. “I’ve always wanted to her your stories come from you, and more possibly-“ She was cut off by him, “You’ve heard about me and my stories?” He questions.

Rhaella playfully rolls her eyes, “Don’t flatter yourself uncle, your stories are the only entertaining thing to listen to around here” She chuckles. Daemon laughs, “Might you like to accompany Caraxes and I for a ride?” He suggests with smug smile.

1 month later…

“Where’s Daemon and Rhaella?” Rhaenyra looks around the table noticing their absent once again at the breakfast table. “Didn’t you hear, sister? Daemon’s taking Rhaella to Dragonstone today for a few months” Halaena says with a sweet smile as Rhaenyra’s jaw hangs open.

“D-Daemon’s taking Rhaella away? To Dragonstone?” She stutters as she processes what was happening. Dragonstone was supposed to be for her and Daemons. Not Rhaellas’.

“Why hasn’t anyone thought to tell me this?” She bangs her hand on the table in frustration. “I didn’t think it would concern you Princess, The Prince and Princess simply want to get to know each other more” Alicent speaks up.

“Get to know each other more? I don’t see why they can’t do that here, why must they be at Dragonstone. Father! Did you approve of this?” She looks to Viserys in disbelief. “My child, these are Daemon’s wishes. And besides, it is finally time that Rhaella chooses a Husband”

“A husband.” The princess scoffs as everyone on the table watch her, anticipating what was going to happen next. “I wanted Daemon to be my husband at her age and what did you do?! You banished him! Why does my whore of a sister get to do what ever she pleases!” Rhaenyra stands up in her seat as does Alicent. They could have sworn they saw steam leave her ears.

“How dare you call your sister that!” Viserys too stands up and hits his hand on the table loudly. “Rhaella is of age and you were not. You were the heir at the time and choosing Daemon as King consort? The realm would have been up in flames by now! My daughter. Your sister! Needs a husband sooner than later. Daemon is content with his position. Those twenty years where ever he was did him some good. Rhaella needs someone like him to confide to”

Viserys sits back down with a sigh, Rhaenyra only stood there in disbelief, shock and hatred for her half sister. Without uttering another word, she excused herself from the table and left. “She’s lost her mind” Alicent shakes her head.

Rhaenyra stormed out of the castle and into the dragon pit. She immediately paused as she witnessed Rhaella and Daemon in each other’s arms as they pat Caraxes. Rhaenyra was never able to do that the blood wyrm, he just never seemed to accept her. But Rhaella on the other hand.

Before she was could storm closer to the two a voice stops her. “Depriving your own sister of happiness?” Otto tempts her, “Just look at how happy they look with each other. I’ve never seen Daemon smile so much, have you?”

“He smiled plenty with me before” She mutters. “Ah there it is, before.” Rhaenyra glares at Otto. “Before he liked you, now he wishes to runaway with my granddaughter and marry her.” “H-he’s not marrying her” She chuckles to herself.

“Oh but he is my dear, he even asked for the King and Queen’s blessing. Your sister, much more youthful, smarter-“ “What are you trying to do?” The princess says desperately, “Stay away from them. Your sister is perfect for him and deserves happiness. Don’t let that childish dream of yours get into the road of them being happy. He’s obviously moved on and so should you Princess” Otto sternly speaks as the two of them look to the couple.

“I lost him once. Now I just lost him again,” The Princess shed a tear as she watched her half-sister get everything she ever hoped and dreamed of.

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ride-thedragon · 25 days

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My relationship to the ship of Daemon and Nettles is very complex because I prefer a lot of her crackships to them together, mostly because I don't like Daemon often. However, one of my mutuals @theothermaidoftarth pointed out that the power imbalance throws them off the most which ties into another point I had made of George attempting to remove those allegations by having the rumoured affair happen in Maidenpool where they are both guests rather than in King's Landing where Daemon would have inexhaustible power in comparison to Nettles. Unfortunately, the fanfic will come soon enough because the difference in the story would be so interesting and a lot more like how they portray the ship right now when it's set in Maidenpool. Again, this is not a defence of Daemon as he was the only shown reason as to why Nettles wasn't killed in Maidenpool but it is an interesting thought as to how his actions would work and play out in a place like Kings Landing.

#hotd #house of the dragon #nettles #nettles asoiaf #netty #a song of ice and fire #daemon targaryen #daemon x nettles #nettles x daemon #dettles #King's Landing Dettles au #under the serpants tongue ff

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howyouloveyourdragon · 1 year

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ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴏɴ

pronouns: they/them (there is use of the word 'suitor' but that's only because I couldn't think of another word to use and as we know from my 'only fair' fic i don't feel the need apply real world childbearing mechanics and there isn't much talk of it so you can imagine your body, gender etc however) warnings: suggestive at times, none others that i can think of, lmk of any if you find them! summary: History remembers names, not blood, he knows that all too well so why are you so important to The Sea Snake, the bastard of the Rogue Prince A/N: In this, Rhaenys has been dead I'M SORRY i couldn't find a good time or reason for her not being his wife and i didn't want to mess with the lore too much. race of reader's mother is never mentioned however reader is daemon's bastard, i hope you like it! open to a part 2 but only if you'd like one, this is a lot more slowburn and reader centric than my other stories but i love book!baela and wanted to look at her relationship w/ reader a bit prompt divider: firefly-graphics wordcount: 1516

YOUR FATHER'S FIRM hand on your shoulder distracts you from the dark affair around you. Another dead. Another important house on the verge of extinction. Daemon squeezed and let out a shaky breath, it wasn't due to the grief that death brought, you were sure, but rather the grief of another loss of aid and another oncoming threat of the House in mourn. If he had to deny another suitor he wasn't sure Rhaenyra could hold him back from his rage this time. It was the middle of war and he was as politically aware as his wife but that didn't mean he was happy about betrothals in war. He was forced to marry young and he would never force the same on you, he made that promise to himself many moons ago. Daemon huffs and soon the warmth of him turns away from you again. You swallow around the lump in your throat and cast your eyes to your half-sisters. Baela shares an anxious glance while Rhaena stays staring ahead with tense shoulders. She clenches her jaw and looks down. Baela gestures with a tip of her head to beckon you over. You take cautious steps but reach them without difficulty, the sound of your feet beating down on the hard ground rings in your ears. It's deafening in the surrounding silence. It is a small ceremony but not any less intimate. Baela tries to send an encouraging smile but it comes out forced. She grasps your arm a little too tightly and tugs you away with your arms interlinked.

"Father thinks they might turn on us." Baela tells you plainly. Her expression is strong and not for the first time you miss the playfulness that usually lies within her eyes like a knight of your childhood fairy tales. "I think we need something to keep them distracted, a wedding." You freeze and furrow your brows. "I thought Jacaerys wanted to wait for the war to be over?" "He does," She sighs and scrunches her nose quickly, the only action betraying her emotions. "I fear he has taken to the Snow girl Mushroom has spoken of." You sigh and move to stand before her, clutching her hands in your own. "Listen to me," You demand firmly. She reluctantly flutters her fierce eyes open and looks into your own, the first sight of vulnerability hidden beneath her irises but you knew this girl better than you knew yourself. You had held and loved her since she was a mere babe in your arms. "You are strong, you are beautiful, you are a Targaryen." Her shoulders softened. "Any man who does not trip over themselves to please you is a fool and I know of one in particular who cares for you more than you know." For only a moment her brows pinch. Her lips twitch of their own volition upward. "Whom?" She asks, dark eyes wide. You put a finger to your lips and shrug. "Perhaps you will discover tonight..." You trail off. "at the festivities, no marital behaviour however that I will remain strict on." A breathy laugh drops from her and you're both walking again, though this time toward the large estate you have been residing.

The bright moon is dancing among the sky as much as you are beneath it, or at least that is how you perceive it as Rhaena giggles sweetly and lets her fingers guide your own. Raucous music and laughter fills the empty space outside as the scene plays like a sonnet to your hope. The war is not yet won but you are sure it will be soon. You only stop moving once a new dance partner catches Rhaena's attention in the form of a friend. You nod and part from her although your spinning and smooth movements don't stop and your eyes drift around the fire you are all circling around. Your eyes linger as you see Baela's beaming grin while Alyn Velaryon extends his hand. Prince Jacaerys clenches his jaw from beside her. You feel glad you have no attention on yourself as you snicker quietly, at least you think there is not. He may not have the hair of a Valyrian but he certainly had the spit of fire within him. Your sister had been the centre of attention all night with her coils wrapped in beautiful braids and her figure draped in the most gorgeous of gowns. She was the image of heart-stopping charm. Half the men and women present would be accusing her of using enchantments by the night's end. Suddenly you feel a warm hand connect with your waist from behind you and you gasp quietly.

Corlys Velaryon's attention was not easy to garner but once you felt it it was hard to remove and he knew this. Corlys had been watching you for what felt like hours with his gaze firmly planted on your untroubled frame, how you guided his granddaughter so effortlessly, how your eyes look glassed with the roaring flames reflected in your eyes. This wasn't the first time he had seen you of course, in some respects you were family but this was the first time he had seen the ferocity in which you fought, how you had avenged that young man that had been slain earlier that day. He distantly hoped that the man meant little to you–that it was merely an act of loyalty to his House and not personal. The last he had seen you before the war was at Laena's funeral when you were only seven and ten summers old. You had been still a child and his beloved Rhaenys was beside him.

Now, his fingers tickle up your sides before spreading along either your arms. It sent delightful shivers up your skin. "My lord..." you murmur in acknowledgment while his breath runs down your exposed neck. "I was not expecting you." He hums and a smile curls his mouth, not that you can see it. "Greetings, princess." Amusement flickers in you. "I am no princess." You remind. He grumbles quietly. "But you should be." He retorts. "And so I shall treat you as such." He winds his fingers to lace with your left ones and spins you around so that he can press his lips in a kiss to each knuckle. Your breath hitches. Your eyes narrow in suspicion and rake over his handsome face. "If you are attempting to charm me, you will reap no reward." You purr, face tense and unrelenting. He only chuckles warmly. "I only hope to seek your approval, princess." "Approval?" You laugh. "Approval for what?" "To court you." Silence. Your brows pinch and your head tilted downward. "Court me?" You ask, your tone thick with suspicion. He nods, not elaborating. "I thought history only remembered names, my lord." The edge is sharp to your words but they don't cut him, only entice. "Then they would remember the Liege Velaryon with the intellect of a maester, the wits of a Queen and the beauty of not only the stars threaded in your eyes but the moon that entraps my heart." His words aren't rushed nor forceful. Instead they are intentional and planned, much different than the other men who flirted spontaneously and then lost interest within the night's end. You cock your brow. You don't respond, then a familiar presence is beside you. "Lord Corlys." Your Queen and stepmother greets but he doesn't change the direction of his gaze. "Your grace." "I have unanswered inquiries of your fleet, might we speak privately?" You can see a tick in his jaw but still he rises and finally looks at her. He nods, his smile forced, and steps away. His touch lingers on your hand as he follows Rhaenyra and despite your wishes, your eyes track him until he's completely out of sight.

The rest of your night is spent with fleeting glances from yourself but also those around you and you only stop once the fire has tired out on you. Your sisters decided to wander back to their chambers but sending enough guards to follow after them, Your father hangs back to wait up for you, not dozing asleep like you expected him to. Once you approach him while flushed and exhaustion ebbing at you, he extends his arm and walks you back soundly. However, there is a tense thickness to the air you're not quite used to yet. Daemon only breaks the silence once you reach the door to your chambers. "I want you to think wisely." He states, firm as always. You look at him and know there is no way to deceive him. You nod slowly. Your father is a calculated man but he was not cruel. "You are the blood of the dragon and I do not want you settling for less than your worth." His tongue curls like it's spewing fire but the tone stays authoritative and safe. His steps echo once he leaves you to wrap your hand around the stocky doorknob and turn. You have a lot to think about but as soon as your gaze slipped through the large window, the illuminating moon whispered the sweetest future for you to decide.

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lovelipton · 8 months

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Chapter 4

Smut warning: Masterbat!on.

It seemed a betrayal to imagine her. It was an unfair thing to lust for.

He grabbed the oil jug from atop his fire place, taking it to his night stand, coating his fingers as he sat down, trying to conjure up any other image.

The blood orange smell had lingered on him, adding to the difficulty of the situation. The tallow oil smelled like her hair. Perhaps he should ask a maid, at least one would be willing. The thought back to their lingering touches and wanting stares during his bath, pretty girls, older than his companion, their pale hands gliding over him with a wet cloth, how his hand slid down the girls back, how the smell could take him back if he gave in.

He stopped himself, mindlessly grabbing his neglected cock with the oiled hand, trying his best ignore his thoughts. He slid his hand, in the same memorized way from his youth and tried his best to be quick.

He thought about his wife, the salt air the first time he had her, a time where it was need and not want, the feeling of her thigh against his hand, her mouth on his. When she was younger, all those years ago in the brothel.

His hand picked up speed, he felt himself building to the needed climax. His head arched back, lost in older memory. He stroked his tip, grunting with his dependence on the budding release.

The stench of stale ale in the air, the mindless interlocked bodies her eyes pulled to. Nettles eyes would pull like that to any new thing shown to her, the ale was polluted with the stale wine.

If he stopped now he wouldn’t finish, he was a man lost to his urges. His mind flashed to her, half dressed, undressed, licking her lips, laughing and looking up at him, mouth ajar for what ever reason. It felt wrong to imagine, he tried to think to anything else but a memory of her would cloud his mind and judgement for what was right. All he knew was what he needed to do. He was almost there.

He grunted with each stroke, on the brink of his anticipation paying off. He heard the knock at the door and couldn’t answer. He leaned into himself, tugging away mindlessly. The oranges danced with his building sweat. A coating covered him as he drew near than he had been in months, her round breast, revealed itself from her raven coils, he could taste his peak.

He could hear her calling his name, through their door, he didn’t know if he was half conjuring it.

“Daemon?”

His peak came with the swing of their door, a curious call of his name and a strained grunt at her intrusion.

“Sorry, Your Grace.”

Ever quick, she recognized his state, wide eyed to be sure with a quick apology and pulling the door back shut, he was past the point where he could stop himself. He dropped his cock as it spurted over the floor, the immediate guilt and relief flooding him together.

He placed his hands at either side of him, nearly delirious with the relief of his expectation, he steadied himself and recognized where he was, what he had done to get there, almost angered by the new clarity.

He could apologize to her to her enough to justify it, he had to apologize to her now for what happened. The door wasn’t locked on his insistence to his side, he should’ve spoken to send her away. He felt no control over it all, a deep desire settled in his soul over it.

He stood up hazily and got dressed, wiping the sweat off his skin and rinsing away all the musk that had developed in its arrival. He knocked the door of and searched her room to find it empty and unmade. He closed the door and made his way to breakfast through his room, he had no desire to see the state he left his in.

He felt hollow as he made his way to the dinning area, unwilling to face the myriad of emotions he could anticipate from her, he doubted he would look less that guilty at her, her face changing into something more desired now.

He walked in on her, in deep conversation with Maester Norren and Lord Mooton, she’s the first to recognize him in the room.

She stands as he would expect, a glimpse of shyness lingered in her expression, avoiding his eyes entirely, preserving her serious expression as the others join her greeting. He made his way at her side. They all sat together, going into a less intense version of the previous conversation , she refused to meet his eyes.

“You should ask him now that he’s here. Perhaps you’ll listen to him.”

She was never impolite, if she was angry her tone would say but she simply sounded flustered, with the same restrained anger she met him with more often than not.

“What is your request my Lord?” He stared at the fat country Lord, seemingly caught up in the throws of the previous conversation. He looked towards the girl, who focused intently on the porridge in front of her, idling herself by playing with it, breathing deeply to calm herself.

He wondered if she had cared about what she saw, if his worry would even matter after he heard what the Lord said, it didn’t seem to impact her day as much as he had.

“I’m simply curious about the possibility of you both splitting up, to find Vhagar and cover the Riverlands with your protection.”

He could feel his anger rise with the closing of the statement, seeing why there was need for the argument in the first place.

Did he think they sat on dragon back each day to waste time?

That they simply enjoyed the others reactions to the piles of bodies they’d stack every other week?

He felt Nettles heat leave her as he restated what seemed to be the same conversation to him. She was as anxious as she was angry.

The girl couldn’t sleep for so long, at least having someone near her, making sure she would was a comfort. He doubted whether she would eat alone or take care of her self without his insistence. She drank herself to peace just the last night.

His grand plan never made her a causality, he recalled. She’d always go back to Rhaenyra’s side as he went after Vhagar. Even as a suggestion the girl was in danger by herself against Vhagar. No one dragon could stand alone against her.

He gripped the knife in his hand tightly, trying his best to rationalize his anger before he spoke. Did he think the girl was here in jest for company alone?

He felt a warm thing grab his thigh, shifting his demeanor to confusion , he looked down then up at her, a weary expression trying to reassure him, in some small attempt to quell a dragon’s tendency. He could feel himself calm, wondering if she used the same method on Sheepstealer before.

He turned back to the scared Lord, resting the knife down before he responded.

“It would be a useless feat, no dragon alone would stand against Vhagar, even I need someone at my side to make sure I return. Her grace is very adamant on that front.”

She moved her hand back to herself and he felt the warmth leave him, almost hostile in its departure. Her food busied her as the conversation continued, over breakfast, entailing small notes about the following steps towards a quicker end to his nephew.

He checked on her throughout the conversation, sometimes justifying it by making sure she took note of certain places, other times to ensure her presence, just to gage her reaction. By the time they were done he was sure he had paid her more attention, against his better judgment.

“We will leave you both to discuss further, Your Grace.” The Maester stated before departing behind his Lord, it couldn’t have been after nine when he and Netty were finally left alone.

She was wearing a Targaryen red dress, truly made for court, she found a way to make it look like an appropriate dress for the occasion, it dipped low like a King’s Landing style he noted before turning away with he thought, entirely.

“Did you finish?” The question sounded common place out of her mouth , for a moment he felt the air get knocked out of his lungs.

His expression caused her to muffle a laugh, and he found, hearing the air leave her as well. For a moment, they waited for their composure to wash over them before the conversation flowed.

“I seem to have taken to making a fool of myself with you. I owe you my apology.” In a better light, he’d see it as a just remark to make, but even the knowledge that she had helped him to finish seemed wrong. The only comfort was that she didn’t know.

“ I think it is a new talent. You did avoid the notice entirely.” She said, stifling a laugh. He recalled the morning before, and he looked for the cut to explain the blood from a young lady. He seemed to lose his sense around her. He remembered how her voice sounded half fantastical at that time, the expanding of her in his thoughts.

“I was caught off guard, to be clear. Then the last conversation made me see red, I could imagine how you felt.”

The fire her hand stoked had yet to disappear, being around her seemed secretive and new. Her scent seemed alluring, her easy smile entranced him, so surely, he thought, he could breathe her like life itself.

“It’s done now, you have the day to recover.”

It was cruel, he thought, to desire her when he’d barely earned her trust. He only just started to see glimmers of the light Jace had written about. Had it not been for the prolonged and hollow description of her appearance, he would’ve thought the boy had half fallen for her. Now, he understood why the words felt the way they did, appearance or otherwise.

“You and Jace were close?”

He regretted it the moment he asked. He saw the way she transformed at the mention of his name, seeing her reaction to it, like someone had stabbed her through the heart. She dropped the spoon for her food and rationalized the question. He wished he could move from it all together.

“He looked out for me, more than he did for the others.” Her voice lacked any emotion, like she was keeping a secret about them from him. Had he known either of them else, he would’ve thought he stumbled onto an affair.

“That was nice of him. He wrote fondly about you.” He held the goblet of watered wine to his lips as she gazed off to the side. He wanted to go back to the people they were before.

“He liked to care. One of the better traits he had. He’d get angry like you. That was a worse one.” He heard the hint of a smile, but her words hit him hard now. Jace was argumentative, never really taking to him like a father, more so a ward, more so an uncle, he supposed.

They had a shared grief over him over Viserys, and even as she seemed to close herself off from the emotion it caused, she cared enough to allow for the understanding. He knew he had taken to all the children in her own strange way, but even now, it seemed the first time he shared his grief rather than felt it alone. It had torn at Rhaenyra, he recalled, a mention of what they had lost would take her away from court, a sentiment he couldn’t share with her.

“I should go check on the dragons, I’m sure they’ll be glad for the break.” She stood up, distant and monotone, excusing herself without his response, walking away with the warmth. She left him cold and almost desperate.

He’d heard from the shepherds that she’d whistle to call Caraxes. In another light, it seemed as though they were singing through the whistling. She wouldn’t miss a day without feeding her dragon, flying or not, dragons bend easier when fed.

Perhaps they understood each other better than he could imagine, they’d understand being hungry, he supposed, from her eating habits, it was a way to show love, to bond with such a new relationship. The first rider of an eighty year old dragon was a big feat for such a small girl.

The rest of their day was spent apart until dinner. She had gone to Jonquil’s pool, a famously dangerous place for Targaryens, stopping by to announce it and then disappearing altogether for the evening period.

He lost himself in the letters, distracting himself from what now seemed like his worst impulse, responding to Lords who wished for protections, Lords who needed aid and the Lords at court who seemed to worry about the Queen, succession and all the things he was less glad to be away from now.

He was mapping out the route for them to take in the following days, when he heard the mouse of her presence. He called out twice to no response before their door eased open, an unkempt head of hair meeting him before her eyes did, a glimmer of light meeting him after the daunting day.

“How are you?”

He asked, looking at the blue evening dress coming into view, hugging her frame as she made her way to him. He preferred her in red.

“It was fine, no murder attempt.” The ease from before still had yet to take back her voice, a trend he hoped wouldn’t continue in his presence. One he hoped he’d gain

“I should’ve gone next week, with the full moon.” In passing, she’d mention something akin to a superstition she held. He didn’t think she prayed to the seven, judging from the Septa’s reaction to her she didn’t intend to but some small beliefs held in her.

“You pray to moon gods?” He asked passively, drawing out a trivial conversation , just to stay with her for a while, before they went back to the day to day.

“A little faith is always good. I suppose Targaryens would believe in themselves.” He looked up at her, comprehending the jab before returning to the map across his table.

“Then you should try it, unlike other Gods, your dragon will never disappoint you.” Unlike her Dragonstone bred peers, she never clung to the idea that she was a Targaryen. Unlike Addam and Alyn, she never claimed to be Laenor’s spawn or a Velayron.

She was simply a dragon rider, almost insulting the legacy of Targaryens with the refusal. It seemed more interesting than ill meaning, to him at least. What girl did not want to be a Targaryen?

“I wouldn’t prefer it, you’ve grown around men for too long, it makes the faith less believable.”

He smiled down at his map, trying his best to avoid her quick remark towards his suggestion. He decided to deflect from it all together.

“You should sleep better tonight, or you can have the maester make you a sleeping drought.”

He could feel his heart rise at the mention. She still hadn’t told him about her lack of sleep. Her history at Maidenpool with Milk of The Poppy or the sleeping drought wasn’t more than a secret understanding he could never uncover. Thankfully, she seemed unconcerned with the suggestion.

“I slept a while last night, I’m sure it’ll be better tonight.”

He recalled the dark bags under her eyes, the redden gaze that met his, the dirt from the day caked on her until this morning. He wondered if she would lie to him so carelessly, he glanced at her to see a look of understanding on her face. Perhaps she had forgotten, like with the Poppy milk.

“You didn’t look well rested?” He quirked an eyebrow to her, wanting to absolve her of the misunderstanding.

“I had a bad dream. I got up and couldn’t go back to sleep, hence the wine and tired look.” She fumbled with her hands, avoiding his look with the newly revealed information.

“The wine isn’t acceptable, I’d prefer the drought.” He sounded like his father the first time he visited Dragonstone after his wedding to his first Lady wife.

“ It wasn’t to sleep, I just..” She stopped herself, drawing his full attention to her now, this was a new conversation they had gone too.

“I just wanted to get rid of the thought of the dream, to lose some control over hearing the same thing repeatedly.”

She sounded like him when he justified his drinking to his grandmother after the wedding. He should wait, he knew he shouldn’t push to far with her, he’d get less understanding if she closed off entirely. The thought that she could be opening up was too tempting to ignore through, the hope she’d put the trust in him was pulling him like a tide to follow the conversation.

“What was the dream?”

He sat down looking up at her, she seemed delicate with the candlelight around her. She was water in his hands, he was scared to let go of her, for the first time they were as close has they had been because of her.

“ Nothing truly, I’m just a stupid girl who can’t quiet the stupid questions in her mind.”

Corlys had guessed that she was no older than ten and six, according to his ship mistress, she was a child on Driftmark with the others. He still had never heard her call herself a girl, now, she never seemed to capture the word well. He guessed she’d been an adult for longer that she was a child on the streets Addam claimed she resided on.

“What could be so bad?” It was half a plea to her, half a question for himself, what had plagued her thoughts so bad she’d need to escape her mind.

“I’ve been like the people we aid longer than I’ve been a dragon rider.” His shock from her answering the question couldn’t be concealed but she barely looked at him as she confessed her plight, he could only listen.

“They drop like flies, while I’m hunting the largest dragon alive, it doesn’t seem likely that I survive it.”

Her confession felt like someone had slapped him, she was almost mouse like now, quite in the space she held, dimming her own light, allowing the darkness to shine.

“I promised you..” He began forming some response, some sense of understanding in what she said, a comfort he’d given himself at the thought of her in danger, in that situation.

“ Yesterday, men clung to me begging for their lives to end, fathers and sons alike. Bigger and stronger than I’ve ever been. Terrified and dying because of the only thing that makes them not like me.”

Her voice was distorted with the anger and sadness that possessed her, he couldn’t remember the last time someone had been so open with him.

He’d give her whatever he could. He was never more sure that she’d never fight Vhagar.

“It was too much , all at once but I’m fine now.” He hadn’t hidden his demeanor, the divisive anger that guided his action. He had just wed at her age, she had a lifetime ahead of her, like Jace and Luke, like Viserys. She had children, chaos and adventures , written in her spirit.

It seemed a cruelty for her to doubt it.

“I meant my promise to you, Netty.”

He stared at her, catching her fallen gaze before it met his, staring past her, if she could trust him, even for a moment now, all would be well worth it.

“You’ll have a lifetime for yourself, I swear on Caraxes.”

She chuckled at the implication, seeing it as no more than a false comfort to pull her out of her doubt. She probably had a lifetime of promises from men just like him. He had never meant anything more though, he could feel the promise seal into his very bones.

“It is all well now, Daemon. No need to drag Caraxes into nightmares.” She was joking, he felt as though he’d gotten too serious now. She’d retract the new position she held him in if he pushed anymore, he’d settle for her contentment now. His plan seemed to settle more together than ever now.

“Very well.” He stated as she sat down next to him. He informed her about their mission to Pink Maiden, then to track where he might go from there to try to ambush him. She was quiet for the rest of the conversation.

They ate in his room that night, a simple meal of Acorn soup , with small conversation about packing between them. He felt almost mad looking for a difference in her demeanor with him, waiting to see if the confession had changed anything between them, with a resounding no by the end. She was content with it between them and moving along as though it hadn’t existed at all. He felt trapped in a desert with no water around him as they finished.

She wished him a good night and closed the door behind her shortly after the meal. He was a deranged man he thought. The thoughts left him half mad, devouring him until he had to put it away.

Tomorrow would be a new day for him hopefully.

#house of the dragon #hotd #daemon targaryen #fanfic #netty #nettles #nettles asoiaf #maidenpool #hotd fanfic #from eden ff #daemon targeryan x nettles #dragonseeds #daemon x nettles #nettles x daemon

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iamfina5 · 8 months

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The Kinslayer Couple

Summary: The ground falls out from beneath Valaena Velaryon’s feet within the span of a week. The week begins with the death of her grandsire, making her mother queen and her Princess of Dragonstone. It ends with the death of her brother Lucerys at the hands of her husband, Aemond Targaryen. From there, Valaena embarks on a perilous journey to win a war against her own kin, forced to discern who are friends and who are foes on both sides of the conflict.

Chapter Twenty: Craven

First Prev/Next

135 A.C.

“Did you really think that you could just fly about the realm and steal my throne at no cost?” Valaena stares down at her husband, who at last stands on his knees, put there by Criston. He stares back at her and holds his tongue, defiant to the last.

Sighing, she issues him a more meaningful question. “Where is Aegon?”

This time, he answers her. “I do not know.”

“But you believe he lives,” she gleans. It has been the topic of some debate, whether Aegon’s abscondence from the Red Keep had been wholly successful. Aemond nods. “Wherefore?”

His frown worsens. “Just a feeling.”

Dryly, she remarks, “How romantic.” From beside her, Jacaerys and Baela snicker.

His jaw clenching, Aemond inhales a long breath through his nose. For a moment, Valaena thinks he will make some rejoinder, but no such response comes. Flicking her hand in his direction, she orders that he be taken to his new accommodations to await his remotion to King’s Landing.

As two burly squires drag him from the room, Jacaerys complains, “I still think it best we dispatch him now.”

The decision to take back Dragonstone today had come to her as she laid in bed last night. For a moon, she had been laying the foundation of her plan to oust her usurper husband, but following her coupling with Aemond, she had realized that she was allowing him to ensorcell her anew. She had been swayed nearly to the brink last night, on the verge of admitting her true love for him and just barely withholding the admission. If she did not act swiftly, she had appreciated, she would lose her chance.

Baela reproves Jacaerys before Valaena has the chance. “Her Grace will want the pleasure herself.”

His lips twist in displeasure. “Very well. I shall write to Mother—”

“No, no,” Valaena diverts him, standing from her throne. As a unit, the three of them descend from its dais. “Allow me. I should prefer that you oversee the men.”

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “I did not succeed in that role when last you gave it to me.”

“Don’t be silly,” she admonishes. After months of her brother doubting himself, she has grown tired of his lack of self-confidence. Nevertheless, after the Greens had come harrowingly close to exterminating the lot them by setting the Triarchy on them—and indeed succeeded in stealing little Viserys away—she cannot quite blame him. She keeps her irritation from her voice and sets him on a practical course. “We need free our leal men from the dungeons. I do not trust those who turned for Criston.” Jacaerys nods, more self-possessed with responsibility before him. “Give the commons and the squires to Ser Robert. Let him decide their fates. The knights,” she distinguishes, her eyes trailing to Ser Alfred Bloome, a sullen and sour man, “hang them. They have broken their oaths.”

“And Criston himself,” wonders Baela, her voice low so that the man in question does not overhear.

Biting her lip, Valaena tastes the late Lord Reyne’s blood. “Leave the oathbreaker to me.”

Keep Reading

#ff #aemond targaryen #hotd #got #hotd fanfic #tkc #aemond targaryen x oc #house of the dragon #daemon targaryen #ch20

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idontgiveashitabouttourneys · 1 year

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I take requests for the HOTD characters: smut, fluff, angst - drabbles, reactions, imagines etccc

Ok so I am very new to the whole fan fiction publishing thing, but I would love to practice my hand by writing some smaller things. So if there’s anything you’d like to read, hit me up with an ask! I’m up for a lot, but if it’s too weird or too difficult to write, I’ll kindly pass 👀

Willing to write for all HOTD characters, but Aemond, Daemon, Aegon are most appreciated 👀 also willing to try to write for whatever pairings/ships, also character x reader

Ok thank you 👀

#hotd #hotd ff #hotd requests #aemond targaryen hotd #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targeryan #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targaryen smut #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen smut #aegon targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #jace targaryen

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wh0reforcoriolanussnow · 2 years

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DAEMON TARGARYEN MASTER-LIST

DAEMON X READER (MY OCS)

Happiest With You

A Risky Game

Runaway

Somebody I Used To Know

The Calm After The Storm

Everything Goes According To Plan

Fire & Blood

Stay With Me

Unforseen

DAEMON X LEYLA HIGHTOWER

Second Choice

Daddy’s Girl

Baby Blues

DAEMON X ELYS STARK

Unexpected

Moon Tea

Favourite Child

My Loyalties Lie With You

Haven’t I Given Enough?

Underestimate

DAEMON X RHAELLA TARGARYEN

Half-Blood Rivalry

SERIES

The Other Sister

He’s back

Jealousy, Jealousy

Dear Motherhood

A Mended Heart

#daemon targaryen #house of the dragon #house targaryen #fanfiction #matt smith #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen fanfic #house of the dragon fanfiction #daemon targaryen oneshot #daemon targaryen ff #daemon targaryen headcanon #prince daemon targaryen #prince daemon x reader #hotd headcanon #hotd fanfic #hotd daemon

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bunbunbl0gs · 4 months

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The red keep

Master list

House of the Dragon master list

Join my tag list here :)

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ride-thedragon · 8 months

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Chapter 5: A week later.

Lord Mooton had insisted on a dinner with their return. With the grandeur of Maidenpool, he should’ve anticipated. They had flown the entire way back without a stop, and even though she wouldn’t admit to it, Netty looked as though she wished to sleep until the following day.

They had dwelled the skies carefully, looking for Aemond to put an end to this chase to no avail.

She was well read enough, he learned, to have conversations with everyone they crossed. In their time apart, she spent it in a library, reading on small little things that guided their conversations. She cared for his input on minor suggestions derived from stories and myths she’d come across.

His thoughts of her had blossomed into a secret desire to unravel her. He had never thought they would be as close as they were, closer than they had been, but much like a gambler, he knew he could get more from her if he risked it.

That night, she talked with Lord Mooton of the Tullys and the relationship they had to their ledge lords.

The men that sat around her were drunk and giddy for it. Singing and dancing throughout the night, sure to find some willing lady before the night was done. The lights hung delicately in the air, casting warm shadows throughout the night.

Somewhere in their conversation, advantageous matches for houses had sprung, unbeknownst to him.

“If I had a son, he’d have been the first name I’d list for your hand, girl.” The Lord held his cup to a smiling Nettles, draining it in one gulp. When the understanding hit them both, her smile dropped entirely.

“I’d have hope to be so lucky, my Lord.” She caught herself, returning the unexpected compliment from him, raising her own cup. His brother, a shorter, smaller, and younger version of him didn’t see it, choosing to continue the conversation.

“Who are the suitors for your hand? A girl like you, natural born still, should have a place in the bigger houses. Maidenpool might be too small for her.”

The liquor and strong wine held the air. She had hesitated on what was best to say to it

“Her Grace is kind and understanding, I’m sure whatever choice she and His Grace make will be suitable for my service to them.”

He was almost shocked at how courtly she sounded. He had never heard her string words together that well, perhaps they had been there for too long.

At her response, all the glazed gazes found him, down in his cups next to her, now dreading the ignoring of the conversation being held in front of him.

“Are there any men who stand a chance for her hand, Your Grace?” His eyes met hers, half concerned for where the conversation had gone since he had tuned it out. Looking for her to be kind and help him, being met with a kind smile and gentle gaze from her, playing with her hands under the table.

“Lord Rosby has a son, Lord Corlys as well. The girl hasn’t voiced a preference, so I assumed we could wait until after the war.” It made his chest pull and blood rush. Perhaps he was too drunk or too occupied with the war itself to think about what would happen to her after. The others were granted lands. She was given coin along with them, but he couldn’t recall any discussions for her hand.

His daughters know stood in a precarious place if need called for marriage alliances, like with the Lord Cregan Stark. He looked back at her, gaining a wanting smile before she turned back, shifting the conversation towards potential alliances in the river lands and house Mooton, a topic that seemed to catch their hearts.

The thought plagued him for the rest of the night until they were alone. Long after the dinner, he stood at their room door, watching her unpack and repack for their upcoming journey.

“I like you when you’re less drunk. You’re more helpful.” She stopped at her bed, looking at him as though he had incriminate himself by just staring.

“You are a fool to not drink, especially when the wine flowed so generously.” He could feel it affect his speech as he slurred his last words. He hadn’t taken a drink in ages, it seemed, less than half of what he’d grown accustomed to affected him in his old age. He entered her room and sat on her bed, simply observing her in this state.

Her hair was loose and wild. The blue in her dress brought out an easiness in her that he welcomed kindly.

“Be glad, if I were to drink, you wouldn’t know who I’d be with. You wouldn’t have such good company.”

She scrunched her nose at him before turning away before she could see the disdain the idea caused him. He lingered cautiously around his new feelings towards her. She had yet to be as open as she had been since that night, while his thoughts of her ran wild with the need to covet her.

When he couldn’t bare her company, he simply buried himself in duty, if it didn’t aid in his quest to dissolve his desire he’d simply fall to it, as quickly as he could manage before avoiding it all together. It was a burden she had no idea of. Her company became a vice and inspiration to conjure some new fantasy when they were apart.

One visit to a brothel would solve it, he decided. He would explore the idea when she was asleep, but the thought of her suggested promiscuity wasn’t one he could quickly ignore.

“What is that supposed to mean, young lady?” He nearly burst into a fit of laughter at his tone. The idea that he’d wild some authority for her was amusing. A delight would be if she was hooked on the bait.

“The last time I got drunk was when Lord Corlys returned from the Step stones last year. I didn’t know where I was in the morning, but I apparently made great company with a married couple. They kept me there for two weeks after. I swore it off after.”

She laughed to herself at first until she saw him wide-eyed at the confession.

“I haven’t done it since.” She said almost defensively at his expression. He forgot that she was foul-mouthed when he first met her, almost viewing it as a confession from a lady for a moment.

He was completely unaware of her more provocative past. Only hearing speculation of how she would’ve survived on the street, making his best guess and avoiding the topic altogether with her.

“I like when you say these things. They catch me off guard how foreign they seem from our day to day.”

She was back at his side, laying out a nightgown to change into when he left. Her smile was brief, but there none the less for his memory.

“I’ll remember that before I spring it on you again.” She raised the dress up to her garter , nearly knocking the air out of him, before climbing up on the bed, adjusting her cover under her pillow, her rear up for a moment before dropping entirely on her stomach.

The dress curved and fell on her body, defining her thighs and back, an urge to touch her washed over him, choosing to run his hands through his hair and turn entirely.

“No need. I like to think it builds a trust between us.”

He should go, he thought. He could feel the pandemonium taking him past what he deemed appropriate for her to deal with. He should leave entirely.

“ I’d like to trust you, eventually.” There was an earnestness to her words that would undo him if she’d let it he though. He turned back, staring at her droopy eyes and soft expression.

They would both be late in the morning if they continued to talk, he realized. Standing up, from the comfort of her bed and presence, outing the candles before making his way to his room, following her leadership and simply rolling into his bed, not caring to change or take care of his pressing need.

He simply fell asleep.

“Daemon. “

“Daemon?”

“Daemon, we’re late.”

He felt her warm breath on his ear. He heard her words after hearing the chirping birds echoing the same sentiments that he’d overslept.

His head pounded at her constant words, feeling the full effects the night had taken on him, the smell of citrus wafting around the room.

His eyes found hers, pulling away due to his groaning at her intrusion, coupled with he dream he was lost in moments ago, causing him to be erect against his covering while she was hovering over him.

“Are you up?” She looked sternly at him, notably not aiding his predicament he looked down to meet her now sizable chest, nearly pressing against him.

He couldn’t form words, having to shake his head in this position until she rose up and dismissed herself entirely, leaving him in a similar state he’d started the days with recently with more incentive.

He thought of her between him and his wife as she briefly described in the same blue dress she wore well, then just her in the same dress hiked up on a hall somewhere, pushing himself over the edge twice with her lingering scent, before he approached the day.

It was certainly later than what they were used to, something she made note of when he was dressed and at her side for a quick breakfast.

“ We’ll simply survey the terrain today. He’s been attacking our supporters more spontaneously.”

He never looked at her, in her eyes after the act was done, feeling almost dirty at the thought of it, out of control for the most part.

“As you wish.” She said, going back to her meal, still tired from the day before. The Lord and men seemed to still be sleeping of the night. A sentiment he wished to share with his hangover.

She was quiet as the day went on, choosing to practice different fighting strategies on dragon back. He watched her, correcting her movements ever so often, mostly recovering from the previous night in her company. When they returned, it was past dark with no luck in finding him.

His thoughts ran back to Lord Mooton’s suggestion, wondering how much time they had until they overstayed their welcome. Manfryd would never say it to be sure, but even with the crowns' help, two large dragons were as much of a burden as they protected.

He missed hearing her voice today, even earlier into their stay, with her dry words. It was better than silence with wanting expectations.

They made their way to their rooms, taking part in the consistency of their day where he sat at his desk and read through the letters. This time, however, he simply watched the door waiting for her. He wondered for a moment if now would be the best time to go to a brothel. She’d come find him when she wished.

Ser Florian had mentioned the girls there in the past. ‘Young and wistful’ he said the eldest were no older than twenty with a menagerie of women from Essos and Westeros alike. As his mind slowly settled on the idea that at least one would look like his companion, she opened the door earlier than she had before.

“Is all well?”

He called out, all past thoughts slipping away in the hopes of a conversation between them. At her worst, she still spoke. He didn’t know why she had been so quiet all day.

“Of course, Your Grace. I just have a question.” She made her way, almost gliding towards him. She wore the same close they had departed in, reverting back to what he remembered was her past behavior or eating before she bathed.

She stopped at the other side of the table, looking at the map before meeting him, almost hesitant as she stood.

“Why haven’t we tried a new strategy?”

The question left him in a stupor before he answered. She had never taken any interest in any of his planning before. Choosing to obey and aid all throughout the war so far, the question came as a shock.

“Why do you ask?” He didn’t believe Lord Mooton was solely responsible for the idea. He was simply stalling for an answer.

“We’ve been here for months with no luck. Aiding the camps is certainly beneficial, but we were sent here to find and stop Aemond. We haven’t come close. We still haven’t seen him.”

Or perhaps he was solely to blame for the prompt. He saw the way his question had affected her, but he never thought it would mean she’d take it to heart so quickly.

“It is not the best plan, but it is better than any alternative I’ve thought of. We are safe here. If you’re to return, we need to be safe. Dragons have been killed, slaughtered in war before. It may seem slow and counterproductive, but it is for the best.”

No man had simply walked up and killed a dragon, and the only alternative that plagued him left her out entirely. As fair as her concerns were, it was the most they would do for the time they had left.

“Alright then.” She sat down beside him. He hoped he had quelled her thoughts for now. The last thing he wanted was for her to blame herself for inconvenience their presence seemingly posed for her.

“Aiding the camps is the best we can do as he continues. Two men have spotted Alys Rivers at his side. They call her a witch. Her grace has shown no indication that we disadvantaged the crown.”

His wife had yet to write to him, personally at all, sealing every decree without a thought of their journey.

He looked back at her unwavering in his gaze, waiting for any response at all.

“The full moon is tonight.”

She looked at him, switching the tone of the conversation entirely with a small hint of enthusiasm to a better man it would’ve been, almost, noted. To him, it was a light in the darkness. It made his day to hear it.

She wore a purple waiting gown, helping the new brightness in her expression to shine. He was ever so thankful to the lower cuts in the hotter weather.

“What do we do to celebrate the occasion?”

He sat down, waiting for her brilliant explanation for his clear jest.

“We watch it in water preferably.” His almost glared at the implication that she'd be able to leave the castle so late in the day, something she caught immediately.

“There is a bath with an open wall downstairs , I can see it from there.”

Anyone could see her from there, he thought. Wandering knights who happen on the female dragon seed who, from what little they knew, had not abided by the laws of the maiden in her life. He doubted she thought so far ahead on the idea.

“Before you say it is not safe, Lord Mooton has ensured that Ser Florian will be patrolling around there, and I will have two ladies with me who wish to see it.”

His mind hadn’t begun to cross that part of his disagreement with the idea.

“And you are more than welcome to join me. There are three large baths built into the ground itself. We simply pull the curtains and have our privacy, knowing everyone is safe.”

He looked at the way her happiness towards the idea had built into a campaign to deter his every excuse.

“I still don’t think…”

He trailed off into some nonsensical excuse on his preference for her to stay upstairs, only a door away, and watch it from there. The moon had looked well enough from there, during their stay.

“ What if it's just us in one bath? They are as big as you describe the ones in Harrenhall. We’d wear clothes, keep the maids near us to avoid scandal, and I’ll have the prince consort keeping me safe.”

She was smiling now, all he could feel was the burning desire to dissuade it all together, it was the worst idea in his new state, although he had abstained from burdening her with the newfound lust, it was seemingly placed on his lap as a jest from the God’s themselves.

“It still sounds strange girl.”

It was a hollow attempt to stop the unaware recklessness she conjured without knowing better.

“Do you not trust me?”

Her tone was almost defeated by his last statement. Now he only wished to take it back, and he only looked away from her entirely.

“I like to think there is some trust between us, stupidly or not. You’ve been my only and constant comfort here. I trust you more than I ever trusted anyone.”

It pricked his heart to hear her confession. All of this over a moon seemed senseless in a way he’d facilitate if she pushed further. The guilt he felt over it aided in his eventual agreement.

“Fine then, I’ll watch with you.”

He wondered for a moment just before her smile came if it would matter if he didn’t agree. If she’d just be angry and see it without him. He knew the God’s had their laughs at his expense tonight, but it seemed a small price to him when he saw it.

“Thank you.”

“You’re very disagreeable. I hope you know that.”

She flashed her teeth in an uncontrollable smile that made the day worth it.

“We’re one in the same. That’s why you like me.”

He almost flushed at the implication. She was nothing like him. He wondered for a moment how he looked in her mind, if it was so similar to her, whether she viewed herself worse or him better.

“I’ll return later to collect you. Wear white and thin clothes to not drown in your grandeur. I couldn’t explain it to her Grace if you died that way.”

She smiled again before leaving the room, leaving him at a loss for his previous plans. The Gods would think him a jester by his stupid decisions alone.

Three hours passed well into her night before she returned. In her absence he’d went through half the letters on his desk trying to distract from the precarious situation he’d entrapped himself in.

“I’m ready when you are.”

She stood at their door in a nightgown, her hair holding itself at her neck.

“Where are your maid girls?”

It was the only thing that kept him ensured that nothing untoward would happen.

“They are waiting for us.”

He looked at her, curiously, almost defeated by the agreement he made. He walked to her, choosing to simply wear his under clothes rather than meeting her exact requirements, as they neared the room, he realized how stupid the decision was in looking back.

The room was beautiful as they walked in. Candles set up like stars to light the vast space. Three large pools sat across from each other, and red curtains were drawn to block them. They faced a large empty plain of land that stretched into the night. The moon just began to illuminate it.

They heard the splashes of water and when two girls came into view, soaking he saw the reason.

Their dresses were sheered in the water, clinging to their bodies as the light showed every detail. He felt an earlier stir come back at the sight. He settled his mind on the thought that he’d chosen the wrong way to spend his night.

“Are you done?”

“For the night, my lady. We have an early morning.”

The smaller girl, blonde and freckled, said, grabbing a robe, looking scared at the sight of him.

“And you as well?”

She turned towards the auburn haired maid. She looked barely older than the maester.

“I think Lord Mooton understood the point. The water is so cold I’d urge you against it if I didn’t know you.”

The girl smiled slyly at his companion, something he never expected.

“Set a hot bath for our return if you can then. If he gets into the water, he’ll lose his last clutch of eggs.”

A muffle laugh was sounded then immediately dismissed by his inquisitive look towards her.

The girls dismissed themselves to him and walked off, leaving a trail of wet footprints as Nettles made her way towards the bath.

She dipped her feet in before she spoke again.

“They were right. It’s freezing.” She plunged into the water without response. Surfacing in seconds with a loud splash and gasp.

“What is the business with Lord Mooton?”

She smiled as the water dripped down her face. She looked mischievous with the added inquiry. He needed to know now.

“Last night, I told him that back on Driftmark I’d swim during a full moon. He introduced the idea, drunk as ale itself. This morning, he was sipping on some vile potion from the Maester. When I brought it up , he had no clue what I was talking about, and he felt bad enough to arrange it. I even talked him into letting the maids come.”

She dunked her head as she finished her sentence, leaving him purely impressed at the thought. When she returned, they were both smiling at the idea.

“Now the clutch joke?”

She put her head up until her eyes into the water then, filling him with he urge to join her.

“Baela is the same way. She couldn’t stand the cold. You dragons temper ill in it.”

She swam away to the edge as he took off his doublet off to join her. It was a reckless decision, with all signs pointing him away until he himself was submerged in the water near her, freezing.

“I like to think I trust you too.”

He said as he made his way to the edge. His temperature raised near her , her two arms resting on the edge staring into the cold , bright night. He let he water fall out of his mouth and tried to adjust to the cool, his heart racing as a result.

“I’d have to know you better I think. You never talk about yourself.”

It was such a delicate line to balance with her. She turned to him, questioning his meaning.

“I think we should cut your hair, I’d like it better.”

She took a strand in her hand before turning away to the corner, propping herself with her two arms.

“Then I think you should trust me before we make such big decisions.”

In truth, his hair hadn’t been so long since the city watch. He had the smallest inclination to listen to her and drop it, but he needed the understanding to reach her. That she would simply trust him, even if it seemed for the worst.

“We should make a blood pact then. It seems to be the preferred Valyrian way.”

“What do you know about blood pacts?”

It was a tradition he was taught and was as old as Valyria itself. He had taught his children through his wedding to Rhaenyra. A promise made with dragon’s blood, the thing that bound them to their power.

“Jace and Cregan Stark made one. Jace and Baela as well.”

The mention of his name didn’t pull as much as it had before. It seemed more of a commemoration of what was lost with him, a memory she held. He hadn’t known his daughter had made one at all. For a moment, he wondered how she was with the war, weary of her temperament.

The girl was facing the moon again, her dress was sheer in the water, her skin a glistening blue in the moonlight. She was a different beauty entirely, one he felt as though he was the first to see. He could see her presence dwindle in her thought.

“Is this how you pray to the moon?”

He joined her in her enclosed space, seeing her draw back to their conversation with a light smile.

“Not exactly. She doesn’t listen often.”

He smiled at her attempt of humor. In some small way, he felt a triumph from it.

“Have I just been deceived into thinking we’d pray to the moon?”

He thought of it, idly perhaps she wished to spend time with him.

“They say there were two moons and one hatched open and birthed dragons. There are moon gods in so many places that it seems to be almost as constant as death.”

He stared at her, lost in her own little world, hesitantly. He knew of the myth in all its mythos from Quarth.

“When I was young, I looked for the moon when it got dark. It was always a better night. When I got older, I lost any faith in the seven I had, I didn’t think the maiden would care to hear from me, but the moon would always return. It’s a nice thing to have.”

He held his breath, not knowing what he could say to her, what he’d want to say.

“I’d do it if you would.”

“What?”

He was thrown off by the sudden change in the conversation. He should’ve expected her not to linger on it for long.

“The blood pact. We fly, we fight, we protect each other. We both return.”

There was an emphasis on her last words that made his heart skip a beat. As though she’d uncovered his worst secret. He watched her shift through the water, avoiding his eyes entirely at the idea.

He turned towards the moon, a beautiful, full sight that he’d never taken the time to simply stare at. Even in the helm of its beauty, the idea seemed simple and ridiculous.

“I fly every day thinking that.”

He threw his confession to the dead silence of the cold night and still water. He’d freeze to death in the next hour if he stayed, yet he did to be there with her. He didn’t need another word from her to know that she didn’t.

“You’re not a very trusting person, girl.” He felt the ripples in the water as her body turned to him.

“Should I be?”

Her words stung like a wasp sting. No, she should not and had no reason to be.

“Maybe after I make the oath, you can be.”

Her eyes lit up with the possibility as his heart sank. He’d break it if it meant she’d be safe, yet he still pursued it. He couldn’t help himself, knowing her had become a selfish want he wished to earn, to grasp at.

His toes felt numb in the water. He was sure to get sick soon if he didn’t leave.

“We should leave. You’re shivering, and we can cut your hair before the night is gone.”

She pushed herself closer to him, looking up at him, closer than she had been.

“You’re very warm.”

He could feel her warm breath on him, her eyes never breaking from his.

“Daemon, I won’t take care of you if you get sick, get out of the water.”

There was deception in her tone, there was a humor as well.

She pulled on her bottom lip for a moment, drawing his gaze to her plump lips. He drew nearer to her, past his own command, closing any hope of space between them. Her breast stood in the water with the adjusted posture, hardened by the cold. She looked hesitant, confused but not scared, never scared.

His cold hands met her waist, holding her in place, for a moment she was the moon.

He lifted her from the water and sat her on the edge. He stayed between her legs before meeting her eyes. They anticipated something he wasn’t sure of he’d fully conjured it. Her chest raised up and down, breathing deeply, awaiting a reaction. He had half a mind to earn it. To pull her back and taste her, as forbidden as it seemed, just once.

He pulled himself out beside her and stood up, going from the cold water to the cold night. He caught a breath he wasn’t entirely sure he knew how he had lost it. Pulling a robe on himself in the dead night. Wondering if any knight had passed in the mist of his longing.

With a splash, he heard her go back into the water, seeing her submerge herself entirely in the water and turn to the next side. He worried that he had compromised himself, his place with her.

She got out, taking a robe to cover herself in the sheer quality of the wet dress.

He made his way to her, cautious to her reaction towards him. She looked at him, a newness glazed her eyes as she did, a desire.

Her breath steadied in the silence, contemplating what had just occurred.

“You should go first before you freeze to death.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/49138576

Her voice was restrained from the normal emotion, any warmth wiped away, allowing the heat to fully reach him now.

He looked at her again before walking away, completely resentful by the loss of himself in that moment. He was half mad. If he lost her to any capacity, would he leave then?

He reached their room as quickly as he could, going past her, shedding his clothes before submerging himself entirely in the hot bath, weary of the chill and its potential to fester illness in him.

#hotd #house of the dragon #a song of ice and fire #nettles #nettles asoiaf #netty #daemon targaryen #daemon x nettles #daemon targeryan x nettles #daemon targaryen fanfic #hotd fanfic #asoiaf fanfic #from eden ff

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janiedean · 2 years

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ffs i can't stop thinking about it BUT

EPISODE 8 OF THE LIZARDS SPOILERS LOOK AWAY IF YOU DON'T WANT THEM

... listen like the way daemon went and cut off vaemond's head just like that the moment he threatened rhaenyra's childrens' heritage openly when the previous three episodes he's been basically malewifing all around with women he actually respected is like... jfc I mean I'm nowhere near a daemon™ stan and the one thing I respect most about the man is happening in S3 probably so whatever but the more I think about it the more I keep on thinking but what if ryan condal had been doing the main series we would have had jaime actually well-written and I'm about to blow a fuse in anger

#just...#fuck like obv i stan jaime SO MUCH MORE than i ever will daemon like #the dude doesn't even crack my f&b top five jaime is top five asoiaf faves BUT #B U T #i fucking can't #god the waste #ryan pls reboot the entire shitstorm please #house of the dragon for ts #house of the dragon spoilers for ts #ch: daemon targaryen #ch: jaime lannister #ffs

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roseandsalt · 2 years

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ngl daemon kinda slayed

#had me swinging my feet and everything #starting to warm to him despite my better judgement #i'll return to the mean after his next war crime dw #fuck matt Smith #knew exactly what he was doing playing daemon like that #weirdly attractive little gremlin fucker #now i've gotta memorise his wikepiedia page ffs #daemon targaryen #house of the dragon

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iamfina5 · 11 months

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The Kinslayer Couple

Chapter Seventeen: Yours Everlasting

First Prev/Next

135 A.C.

Valaena,

Word shall reach you soon that I a terrible in the stormlands, your brother and I

A week into Queen Rhaenyra’s tenure in the Red Keep, a consolidated small council meets in its designated chamber for the first time. Ser Lorent, recently installed as Lord Commander of the Queensguard, stands to the right of Her Grace’s chair at the head of the table. Also on her right sits Lord Corlys, her Hand, with his wife the Princess Rhaenys a place down from him, Lord Bartimos Celtigar, the newly appointed master of coin, sat between them. Her king consort sits to her left, with her heir on his left. On Valaena’s other side sits Ser Medrick Manderly, the heir to White Harbor, and beside him, his brother Torrhen.

Proudly, Rhaenyra surveys her council. Presiding over the meeting, she prompts its start. “Lord Corlys, what business have we this day?”

“There are several matters for your consideration, Your Grace,” Corlys tells her. He looks to his granddaughter. “Let us begin with the Princess Valaena’s report.”

Standing, Valaena commences her accounting of her findings as mistress of whisperers. “My whisperers throughout the city confirm that the people are most glad for your return, Your Grace.” Rhaenyra nods appreciatively. “They remember you as the Realm’s Delight and have no love for Prince Aegon the Elder or Prince Aemond, the boors. However, there is discontent among the merchants and traders as to,” she glances at Bartimos, “the new taxes. I have concerns that they may foment tumult among the smallfolk so as to have their way.”

“We are at war,” Bartimos reminds the room, predictably. “We require funds, and the queen’s unscrupulous half-brothers have cleaned out her coffers. Rest assured, the smallfolk shall come to heel in due time.”

Valaena doubts that very much. The Celtigars have a long, poor history with taxation. As rulers of Claw Isle, they frequently try to tax the people of Crackclaw Point, entirely without success. That being said, their lords are often named as masters of coin and lords treasurer. With any luck, despite Rhaenyra’s faith in Bartimos, she will soon see reason and repeal the more stringent of his exactions.

Not seeing fit to make further note of such concerns now and incite a tiff with the old lord, she goes on as though she had not been interrupted. “Word has traveled north that following the Battle of the Honeywine, a victory for the Greens,” she bitterly acknowledges, “Prince Daeron has been knighted and dubbed Daeron the Daring.”

At this, Rhaenyra’s mouth twists with displeasure. For her part, Valaena is not so distressed by the development. While their loss at the Honeywine had been devastating, it had not been a calamity. Moreover, a small part of her feels glad for Daeron. Her young uncle has spent most of his life in the shadows of his brothers and Oldtown, so it is fine for him to have something lofty for himself. It remains lamentable, however, that his good fortune should come to him on the wrong side of this war. She wonders how she might convince him to repent his fealty to Aegon and support the rightful queen.

She ends on an unsatisfactory note. “Tyland Lannister has not yet confessed whither he has sent the Crown’s coin, and there is yet no word as to the whereabouts of Aegon or Lord Larys Strong, though I hope to root out all our quarries soon.”

Rhaenyra accepts her optimism with a nod, and the conversation moves on. Valaena retakes her seat.

There remains another whisper which she could have mentioned. Since Rhaenyra first sat the Iron Throne, rumors have circulated through the Red Keep that she would not be long for it. Some claim to have seen cuts along her legs and the palm of her left hand, believing that the Iron Throne had spurned her, and thus that her days upon it would be few. Such rumors are worrisome, weakening Rhaenyra’s claim to the throne with their mere existence. Notwithstanding, they are but rumors, and they cannot unseat her alone. Moreover, Valaena believes it would be a poor choice to disclose them at this junction. It is so recent since her mother settled in King’s Landing, and she requires time and peace of mind to establish her rule.

Corlys inhales, preparing to announce the next topic for discussion, but Daemon pipes up before he has the chance. “The Lannisters should be punished, to set a precedent and show the realm your regard for rebels and traitors, Your Grace. We should sack Casterly Rock as we did Storm’s End and grant their lands and castle to men who have proven themselves more loyal.”

Corlys appears horrified by the unheralded proposal. “Your Grace,” he ventures, addressing Daemon, “I fear that would be unwise. Half the lords of Westeros will turn against us if we are so cruel as to destroy such an ancient and noble house.” Frowning, Daemon shrugs at him.

Valaena attempts to find the middle ground between her grandsire and her step-father. “The Lannisters should face retribution for their treason, but it should not be so grave as extermination.” Grateful for her intervention, Corlys nods deliberately. “We might take some of their lands and, say, grant them to Hugh Hammer and Ulf White. They are due to be knighted for their valor in battle.” Privately, she contemplates how favorable it would be to have the two unsavory dragonseeds stowed so far to the west.

Her suggestion sends Daemon on another tangent. He turns to Rhaenyra. “Speaking of Hammer and White, I believe I have a solution as to our troubles with the Rosby and Stokeworth successions.” He proposes, “We wed Hammer to Rosby’s daughter, White to Stokeworth’s, and the girls inherit.”

It comes Valaena’s turn to frown, and far more sincerely. Though she believes that Rosby’s and Stokeworth’s daughters should inherit their lands and titles, being their eldest children, she should not wish them tied to two brutes such as Hammer and White. Lady Roslin Rosby, in particular, is a maid of twelve. Should she be betrothed to Hugh Hammer, they would be wed soon, and her torment would commence forthwith.

The corner of Corlys’s mouth tilts down, too. “Both girls have younger brothers. Disinheriting them in favor of their sisters would overturn centuries of law and precedent, as well as call into question the rights of scores of other lords with elder sisters.” He shifts to face Rhaenyra, too. “Yours and Valaena’s claims are special cases. Your father named you heir, just as you have done for your daughter.”

With such high stakes, potentially losing the already-tenuous support of countless lords, Valaena notices Rhaenyra leaning in Corlys’s direction, quite literally. Before the queen can make her choice, however, Valaena steps in.

“Mother, never mind the centuries of law and precedent,” she says, avoiding her grandsire’s stare as she inflects his words with sarcasm. “House Targaryen has long overturned such traditions in favor of that which is just, from the time of the Conqueror. As the first ruling queen of the Seven Kingdoms, you have the opportunity to create a new order and show the realm that a woman has just as much a right to rule as does a man.” She looks to her grandmother for support, and Rhaenys nods with vehemence.

Rhaenyra’s lips twist. “Valaena, Lord Corlys is correct. You and I are special cases. We were brought up to rule. Most ladies are not so fortunate.”

Disbelieving, Valaena refrains from sputtering. “What matter is that? There are scores of fool lords who disregard their maesters’ teachings and behave as complete oafs! Think of Lord Darnold Arryn, whose temerity caused him and his brother to be murdered by mountain clan raiders, or Lord Lothar Bracken, who dishonorably attacked his neighbor’s army from behind, rebelled against Harwyn Hoare months later, and was starved to death by his king.”

Daemon jumps in. “The Stokeworth girl is but six. She and the Rosby girl can be taught to rule if it is so desirous.”

“Yes,” Valaena emphatically affirms. Her mother returns to gaze to her, having been staring consideringly at Daemon. “And they need not be wed to head their houses. It is not as though either of us requires a king consort.”

At this, Rhaenyra seems to make up her mind. “The girls will rule.” Valaena clenches her fist in victory as Corlys exhales a put-upon sigh. “But they will do so with husbands. I shall knight Hammer and White on the morrow and inform them of their betrothals.”

Valaena wishes to object, but Rhaenyra’s eyes light on her before she can think of what to say. “This brings us to another matter, that of the Princess Valaena’s betrothal.”

“My betrothal,” Valaena questions, pointing to herself in unadulterated shock.

Rhaenyra nods. Gently, she urges, “Valaena, should you hope to rule one day, you are in need of a husband.” Gaping like a fish, Valaena tries to shake her head. Rhaenyra turns her attention from her, looking back to the other members of her council. “I am hereby open to recommendations.”

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#tkc #ff #hotd #ch17 #got #hotd ff #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x oc #Daemon Targaryen

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