#Daenerys Targaryen fanfiction | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 1 year

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Glow

Pairing: Daenerys Targaryen x Meereen!Reader

Warnings: none

Words: 2313

Summary: Why she had taken a liking to you among all the others she had freed, you would never know. You had been a personal whore for one of the masters and had gotten pregnant. There were many others like you. Your story was nothing special, but Dany had found you worthy enough to be her close companion. There were even times when you thought that maybe you could be more than her companion.

Blinking your eyes awake, your vision clears to reveal the window outlooking the city of Meereen. You nuzzle your face into your pillow as a hand lays protectively over your swollen abdomen. Smiling to yourself you do your best to shift onto your back and lay on your other side so you could face Daenerys Targaryen, your queen and the Mother of Dragons. She still had her eyes closed, a content smile on her full pink lips. You didn’t think it was possible for someone to be so beautiful. The Targaryens of old Valyria all had the characteristics that made Daenerys beautiful though, as she had told you. You couldn’t imagine an entire family filled with gorgeous people like her. Yet her beauty could not compare to her incredibly soft and kind heart. Like so many others she had saved you from Slaver’s Bay. Why she had taken a liking to you among all the others she had freed, you would never know. You had been a personal whore for one of the masters and had gotten pregnant. There were many others like you. Your story was nothing special, but Dany had found you worthy enough to be her close companion. There were even times when you thought that maybe you could be more than her companion. The roundness of your belly reminded you of how impure you were.

Daenerys scoots closer to you so that her flat stomach is pressed against your rounded one. “Good morning.”

You smile. You should’ve known she would be awake. “Good morning.” You feel her hand caress your stomach again. She was always touching it, perhaps remembering of the time she had been pregnant. She had told you everything of her past and of the witch who had killed her husband and unborn son. The very same who had cursed her womb so that she would never be able to bare children. Joke was on Mirri Maz Duur. Daenerys not only had one child, but three. They were stronger than any human child and much more special. Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion continued to grow larger, especially Drogon. Daenerys had already run into trouble though, they proved to be incredibly willful and had killed many livestock which their mother had to reimburse.

“Shall I call for someone to get you breakfast?” You murmur, still a little drowsy. Being pregnant had you constantly tired no matter how much you slept.

Daenerys shakes her head and lifts up one of her hands. As always, she gently touches your face and brings her lips upon your’s sweetly. Your heart races and the child inside of you begins to kick. Dany’s eyes light up at the feeling. She pulls away with a grin. “It always kicks when I kiss you.”

You blush and internally scold your unborn child for revealing your feelings for your queen. Instead you tried to play it off with a nervous giggle. “My child already loves it’s queen.”

Laughing, she slips out of bed and you quickly avert your eyes. Your beautiful queen always preferred to sleep in the nude. She grabs a robe and helps you out of bed. You wouldn’t mind sleeping nude beside her but you feared that your figure was not as beautiful as Daenerys’.

Missandei and other serving girls came in to help their silver haired queen get ready for the day. By command of the queen, they helped you too. Truthfully it was difficult for you to get ready by yourself. You grew weary just walking a few steps.

Queen Daenerys grabs hold of your hand and escorts you over to a small table that Daenerys had set up in her room. It was specifically for you considering that you had a hard time making it down the stairs to the dining hall. Since you were nearing the end of your pregnancy, Daenerys had been joining you at your small table for every meal. Several plates of fruit, meat, bread, and cheeses were brought in as well as a small bowl of olives. Not only were you always tired but you were always hungry too. You knew it was polite to chow down in front of your regal queen, but you couldn’t help but tear into a chunk of bread and start stuffing cheese into your mouth.

Missandei joined you as well, eating more politely than you could ever manage. She went over with Daenerys the schedule for the day. They spoke of those who had requested audience with her grace and how many there were planned for the day. You wished you could attend them with her, but until you popped out your child, you would be sequestered to the queen’s quarters.

As you finished up, Daenerys’ guards showed up to escort her to the audience chambers.

Patting her mouth clean, Dany leans over to kiss you. You blush once again but return the gesture, noticing how Daario and Jorah had looks of jealousy (although Daario did look more aroused than jealous).

Finding yourself alone you sigh and waddle out to the balcony patio. The sun beat down on the yellow city and made you sweat a little bit. Over the tops of buildings you look out to the sea. Even though you didn’t accompany Dany in her queenly duties, you knew that there was chaos in Meereen. People who were against her and wanted her dead. Of course, that might always be the case. The city was dying slowly with no trade going in or out of the ports and with most of their harvest having been burned by the masters.

Overhead you hear a familiar shriek. The first time you saw them you were understandably awestruck. . . that was until they had got too close to you then did you begin to fear them. But over time you grew accustomed to Dany’s dragon children. And much to even Daenerys’ surprise, the dragons seemed to dote on you. If that was even possible for a enormous fire breathing creature. While Drogon chose to travel further and further away from his mother, Viserion and Rhaegal still preferred to stay close. At the sight of you on the patio, both dragons swoop low until you can feel the breeze that they beat up with their wings. They land in front of you and Rhaegal instantly hobbles over to you. It was still alarming when they charged at you. Viserion follows his sibling over to you as Rhaegal lowers his head for you to pet him. They were hot to the touch but considering you were already warm from the temperature outside it didn’t phase you. His scales are coarse and rough as you run your palm up his head before giving his dark, green, scales a scratch. Wanting attention too, Viserion pushes Rhaegal out of the way causing the other to hiss and start a small fight as they snapped at each other and flew into the sky once again. You chuckle and watch them for a bit until the sun started to bother your eyes. Hesitantly you rub your hands over your stomach. You really didn’t know how to feel about being a mom. Considering your child wasn’t conceived out of love rather than lust and obligation. The master who had enslaved and impregnated you was now dead thanks to Daenerys. You couldn’t help but have mixed feelings about your child.

You sigh. Could you love this child?

“Queen Daenerys wanted me to let you know that she will unfortunately be late for dinner this evening and to eat without her.” Daario informed you later that day.

You frown, hoping that Daenerys wasn’t overworking herself. “Please make sure she has a snack at least.”

He smirks. “Of course.” Your dinner is brought in but he doesn’t leave.

Before eating, you set your fork down. Unnerved by the way he was looking at you. “Is there something else I can do for you Daario?”

“I couldn’t help but notice how you and Daenerys interact with each other. She seems to love you very much.”

“As I do her.”

Daario shakes his head. “The two of you are in love, that much is obvious. I’m just wondering what will happen once she has to take a husband.”

You knew where this was going. “If you haven’t noticed there’s already something preventing anything between Queen Daenerys and I.” You gesture to your stomach. “I doubt she really wants someone as tainted as me.”

Daario loses his playful smirk and sits down across from you. “She’s never seen you as tainted, I hope you know that. And you’re not. You had no choice in the matter of things before Daenerys took this city.”

“I do believe you’re being sincere.” You smirk and take a bite out of your dinner. “It’s quite shocking, but nice.”

His smile returns and Daario raises a glass to you. “Then let me continue to be sincere by saying you do look awfully radiant with your round belly. Glowing even.”

You laugh and he keeps you company until Daenerys wanders up with a shocked expression at the two of you talking and laughing. She raises her eyebrows up in confusion.

“What are you still doing here Daario?”

Leisurely he stands up. “Forgive me your grace, I was just keeping (y/n) company considering that you would be late to supper. I will be going now.” He bows and winks at you before leaving.

Daenerys’ violet eyes turn to you. “Did he say anything inappropriate to you?”

You shake your head. “No. He was an utter gentleman.”

That made her even more suspicious. “Gentleman? Daario?” Daenerys takes up Daario’s old seat. “Next time I’ll be sure to send Jorah. . . That Daario cannot be trusted.” Was that a hint of jealousy you detected?

Changing the subject you told her how you had seen Viserion and Rhaegal earlier. She timidly asked if you had spotted Drogon, to which you tell her you didn’t. Of course she wilted a little bit. It had been a few days since she had last seen her biggest dragon.

“He’ll turn up soon. I’m sure he’s just busy exploring the neighboring lands and finding more food so that he doesn’t have to keep eating cattle that belongs to your people.”

“That’s one way of seeing it I suppose.” She murmurs against her cup as she takes a long sip.

“Have faith in your children as they have faith in you.” You offer her a small smile.

Her face that had been so somber brightens and makes you clam up immediately from shyness. Warmth spread in your chest and you could feel your baby kick inside of you. To know that you were able to put such a smile on her face made you undeniably happy. A lowly creature such as yourself didn’t deserve to feel so happy.

“Your Grace-” Pain pierces into your abdomen and you gasp sharply, fingers squeezing your cloth napkin.

Her eyes widen in panic and she quickly rises to her feet. “(y/n)?”

Breathing harshly you try and tell her that you’re fine, but another stab makes you cry. Daenerys immediately calls for help and somehow manages to get you onto her bed. Weakly you complain about how her sheets will be ruined by the end of it, but it falls on deaf ears. She’s 100% focused on delivering your baby. A flock of women and Missandei rush in with water and cloth. Daenerys refuses to leave your side, holding your hand the entire time.

Even with your little girl in her arms, Daenerys continues to cry. You yourself had wept when Missandei put her in your arms; a pink, screaming, little thing. In Daenerys’ arms though she had quieted down.

“She’s beautiful.” Dany whispers, truly in awe of the infant in her arms. You let her have her moment, knowing that she had been unable to have such a tender moment with her own child. Then you heard her whisper “Three heads. . .”

“What?”

“There’s three heads of the dragon. . .” She continues to murmur more so to herself.

“Of your sigil?” As a gift she had given you a piece of cloth that had the sigil of House Targaryen stitched into it. A red three-headed dragon amidst black.

“My ancestor Aegon the Conqueror flew to Westeros alongside his two sisters. That’s why our house has a three headed dragon to represent the three dragons that conquered Westeros. My own dragons adore you, (y/n).”

You still weren’t following. What did dragons have to do with your baby?

Eyes like that of amethyst turn back to you. Realizing what she had said out loud she blushes and hands you back your daughter. “Nevermind. I should leave mother and child to rest.” She gives you a weak smile and turns to leave.

“Dany wait.”

You shock even yourself when you use her nickname.

“W-Won’t you lay with us? You’ve already seen how much my daughter loves you already. . . Just like I do. . .”

Daenerys draws closer. Her violet eyes regarding you with complete love and adoration. She didn’t have to say it out loud, you could finally see it in her eyes. Her lips part then close, thinking better not to speak. Both of you knew there would be complications in your relationship. You’d work it out though when the time came. Right now though, you just wanted to be a happy family.

She cuddles against you, her head comfortably against your’s as she gazed at your daughter. “What will you name her?”

“I thought you could name her. It would be a great honor.”

Daenerys smiles, her fingers brushing against your daughter’s cheek tilting her head so that her lips grazed the shell of your ear. “Rhaella.”

You turn your head, lips mere inches away from her’s. “A lovely name.”

She smiles and closes the gap, kissing you.

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madwomansapologist · 10 months

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neapolitan — what song can describe them as lovers? and daenerys

neapolitan — what song can describe them as lovers?

⤷ with: daenerys targaryen

Sweet — Lana Del Rey

Do you know how hard it was for me, dear anon, to chose something not blood or fire related? Do you know how it made me want to die for not being able to chose a song with the world "queen" on it's title? Can you imagine my strenght to chose a song with a WATER MOTIF?

But that one is so fucking accurate.

And remember where I'll be/ Sweet in bare feet/ You can find me where no one will be = A house with red doors, her own bedroom and a lemon tree. Okay. Now I'm fucking emotional.

Daenerys spend her entire life searching for a home. Not a house, not a place where she could sleep: a home. Like the one from her brother's stories. Like the one from her dreams. Like the one her heart would be able to recognized anywhere.

To love, for Daenerys, is to feel at home. To have a certain kindness that only sharing a house would be able to contain. Is to feel know, seem, heard. Is to feel welcomed. To feel desired.

And maybe in another life, maybe if life was fair, Daenerys wouldn't have to spend half her time conquering with fire and bloog and the other half learning that it takes more than that to make a ruler. In another life, Daenerys would spend sleepless nights asking you if you ever thought about having children. If you would ever marry her. If you wanna run marathons by the sea.

Daenerys would be able to do nothing at all. And to do it with you.

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

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thebiggerbear · 5 months

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Daenerys Targaryen Masterlist

work in progress

multiple works in progress (prompt responses)

dividers by @firefly-graphics

#daenerys targaryen x reader #daenerys targaryen x female reader #daenerys targaryen x you #daenerys targaryen x y/n #daenerys targaryen #daenerys targaryen fanfiction #game of thrones fanfiction #daenerys x you #daenerys x y/n #daenerys x reader #daenerys x female reader #showverse daenerys #game of thrones #game of thrones fandom #daenerys targaryen masterlist #got #got fanfiction #character masterlist

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galacticwildfire · 2 years

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Fire on Fire | Jon Snow

One

Rhaenyra Targaryen was raised alongside her twin Daenerys across the narrow sea, until a twist of fate brought Rhaenyra to Westeros. Separated from her beloved twin she is taken as Ned Starks ward, isolated in a foreign land. It is there she finds comfort in Jon Snow, Winterfell's bastard, outcasted as she is.

The two grow inseparable, that bond growing into something dangerous as war grows nearer, a bond Ned grows fearful of, yet he can not dare to ever breathe the truth to either of them.

Warnings: blood and gore, typical got, if incest is a hard no in your got fics then you might wanna head out

Word count: 3.3k

I sit in my bedroom, staring at the dancing flame of the candle as the bells ring from Winterfell's towers. Bell's celebrating the anniversary of Robert's coronation. The anniversary of Robert winning his rebellion and my family being wiped out.

Except we weren't.

Here I am, two years after I escaped Robert's hammer. I was fourteen when I was brought here, my sixteenth name day having just passed on the land where I was born.

Rhaenyra Stormborn. Princess of Dragonstone. Yet anyone who dare call me princess would lose their tongue for treason. Ward of Eddard Stark. The last Targaryen they call me. Except they know not of my sister across the narrow sea, and my brother who no doubt still unfortunately lives.

I haven't dared ask what's come of them, I doubt anyone even knows, and I've been to afraid to even speak of it, knowing how fragile my very existence is. I survived execution when I arrived due to how I shamed the king, but an assassin in the night is still very much a possibility. I dodged enough of them in my youth to know.

My arrival at Winterfell was far from warm as the shocked lord and his wife had no choice but to take us in, Lady Catelyn warning her children away from me despite how her eldest son's eyes lingered on me. I was quickly thrown into a new life of exile, except instead of a sprawling summer palace alongside my sister, I was alone in a realm of winter behind heavy doors.

It was there I found myself outcast alongside Jon, the only Stark who dared to not hide from my presence, and suddenly it was the two of us against the world.

A princess and a bastard, equals. Or at least we see it that way.

It's him now who comes to me while Winterfell celebrates with a feast.

"I noticed you were missing from the feast," he says as he comes in, closing the door behind us.

"You were allowed to go?" I ask in surprise, knowing how Catelyn is.

"Of course not," he answers, having brought me a goblet of wine. "But I poked my head in to see if you were there."

I just laugh as I accept the drink. "Well considering they're celebrating the death of my whole family I'd rather not sit there like a spectacle to be gawked at."

He sighs quietly. For so long he was so shy, would hardly speak a word to me, as a bastard having been told to not be seen nor heard, just as I was told upon arrival. Yet in each other's silence we found peace, solace, and slowly over the months that silence grew to half smiles and even a laugh, and then to a strange sort of companionship.

A strange companionship that scandalises Catelyn, but that Ned seems to allow.

For so long she kept me from her children, whether out of fear of my blood or of my name I don't know, but eventually Ned gave the command I should be educated alongside Sansa and Arya by their Septa. He allowed me to ride and hunt with Jon, Robb and Theon. Perhaps it was then she accepted Robb's attraction to me once it occurred to them Robert would not dare let me wed anyone he does not trust, but by then the damage had been done. It was irrevocably Jon and I against the world, no matter how close now I may become with her other children.

"Robb asked me to tell you that he would save a dance for you if you change your mind," Jon says and I laugh again. "You know he fancies you."

"Fancy yes," I admit. "I know I am a beautiful girl with a powerful name and a bad reputation. It sure took Catelyn long enough to trust I wouldn't corrupt her children. Now she fancies the thought I could be his wife."

He raises an eyebrow. "Would you?"

"Gods no," I dismiss, and catch his relief at that. "I have no desire to be the Lady of Winterfell."

"What about Robb?" he asks out of more than mere curiosity. "All the girls are mad for him."

"Then that makes me the exception," I say, taking a sip from my glass. "He is handsome, I can see why girls are mad for him but whatever affection he has for me is shallow. He has not fought for me once, instead following whatever it is his mother would like him to do. He- he doesn't even know me." I look at Jon. "Not like you do."

No one has ever known me as he does, nor would I want anyone else to ever come close to knowing me like that.

"Aye well, you didn't make it easy," he jokes, drawing a small smile from me. "You like making yourself mysterious."

I come to stand close to him, looking up into those dark eyes. "Because the mystery is the most intriguing part of me."

"I'd beg to differ," he says, bringing a knuckle up to my cheek and making me smile. "You just don't want anyone to see what you're really like."

"And what's that?" I tease.

"A girl who likes to play with swords," he says, eyeing the sword he forged me for my sixteenth nameday on my wall. "Who despite it all isn't as scary as she likes to pretend she is."

I laugh. "And who taught me to play with swords?"

"Only because you begged me to," he reminds me and laughs. "I swear Lady Stark was going to have my head when she found out."

He may laugh, but my heart sinks at the pain it hides and I lower my head to murmur "I hate how she treats you, how they all treat you."

"Rhae-"

"I hate it," I repeat and he puts a hand on my shoulder. "Just because Ned wasn't married to your mother you're less than your brothers?"

"It's how it is," he tells me for the hundredth time.

"But it shouldn't be," I tell him for the hundredth time. "No matter how many times you tell me otherwise it will never seem right to me."

"Well you have a more keen sense of justice than most," he says, hand running up and down my arm. "Strong enough that you're more angry about how I've been treated than yourself."

My eyes flicker to the book on Targaryen history that sits beside us I borrowed from Maester Luwin. "My father did awful, horrible things-"

"A daughter isn't to blame for her father's crimes," he reminds me, the very words he spoke to me a year ago that led me to trust him. "Nor should she suffer for them. You have as much of a right as anyone else to be down there with everyone instead of hiding up here."

It's then I make my decision and grab his hand. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" he asks as I open the door.

"To dance."

"Rhaenyra-" he protests as I drag him through the hall and down the stairs to the dining hall. "You don't have to do this to prove a point."

"Yes I do," I say as we come to the doors leading into the hall and bring my hair forward over my white dress. "How do I look?"

His eyes are soft. "Do I really need to tell you?"

I smile as I run my fingers through the black curls atop his head, neatening them. "Now you're ready too."

He sighs, knowing if I'm doing this then so is he. We do this together or not at all.

And so he opens the door for me, the hall falling quiet as I step inside accompanied by him. He walks just behind me as we walk through the centre of the room between the rows of tables and I bow politely to Lord and Lady Stark.

"My apologies for being late," I say as I rise.

"We did not expect your attendance," Catelyn says, who's always been the most sceptical of me.

"Well it would be a shame to let the good wine go to waste," I say, Jon pouring me a glass to make a toast with. "A toast to our good King Robert and of course to the death of my father King Aerys Targaryen second of his name." I can almost hear Catelyn now, chastising me for ruining a celebration with my treasonous mouth, but I care little as I raise my glass and drink from it, turning to the band. "Come on now, rejoice!"

As much as Catelyn does not like me due to my closeness with Jon, she still sees me as a suitor for Robb, her darling first born boy. I have no ill-will towards Robb, I like him, but certainly not in the way some may wish. So when I notice Catelyn having quiet words with Robb during the celebration I'm unsurprised when he comes to me.

"Robb," I greet with a polite bow of my head.

"Rhaenyra," he says, extending his hand which gathers the attention of the room. "May I have this dance?"

It's clear to me and everyone else this is a deliberate act of courting. Perhaps if I was a more timid girl I'd accept to please everyone, it's certainly what Varys advised me to do before sending me on my way North.

Except I'll never be that sweet timid girl they wish me to be. Perhaps it's what my brother calls the dragon that lives in us Targaryens. But much to the frustration of everyone I've crossed, I've never been good at keeping it hidden.

"Actually I had promised this dance to another," I say, the room on edge as I capture they're attention, circling the area before the high table where Ned and Catelyn sit. Much to the annoyance of Jon deciding that I do have to prove a point after all as I extend my hand towards him from where he stands by the wall giving me a warning look which I ignore. "Jon Snow, may I have this dance."

Reluctantly he steps forward, all eyes on us as he takes my hand, his eyes silently begging me not to do this, but it's too late now. "I don't dance."

Unlike his brother he was never taught such things, but then again neither was I.

"Then I'll lead."

The band begins playing again as I lead him out onto the dancefloor, horrified looks from everyone in the room, but I'm only looking at him. He anxiously goes to look towards Catelyn but I bring his face back to mine, my voice soft.

"Just look at me, no one else."

I bring his hand to my waist, taking the other in my own, every eye in the room on us. I'm sworn to no man, none daring to claim the rogue Targaryen girl. I'm free to dance with whatever man I wish, and there's only one I wish to dance with. No matter how scandalous.

Our very existences are a scandal, and we won't be hidden away quietly.

Not anymore.

He follows my lead, his feet clumsy and hands anxious, but I have enough confidence for the both of us as we dance in the hall before Winterfell's crowd, under the horrified gaze of Catelyn and as our dance comes to an end, his hands on my waist and mine around his neck, for the first time I see something change in Ned's eyes.

"Lord Stark," I say, curtsying as I dismiss myself from the hall, having made my appearance and left the room in scandal. A reminder on this day of victory that the Targaryens still live.

I walk out into the courtyard outside, Jon following me out.

"Rhaeneyra." I look back to see he's beside himself with fear. "What was that?"

"A dance."

"It was a demonstration," he says, his voice almost accusational. "Why use me for it?"

"I would never use you," I protest, becoming defensive. "So what if it was a demonstration? We're the black sheep of Winterfell, hidden away and expected to be neither seen nor heard, so sue me for refusing to do so."

"You know what everybody will say," he says, frustrated. "What they'll believe-"

I could almost laugh. "Nothing they don't already believe."

He falls quiet, knowing it as well as I do. That they whisper of us. The princess and the bastard. Even if no one dares tell us it's wrong.

"You know what everybody whispers about us," I tell him, something neither of us have ever dared acknowledge. "Everybody knows how much we mean to one another. So what does it matter?"

"It matters because you shouldn't risk making them angry like that," he grits out. "Choosing me over Robb in front of everybody to make a point is careless, the last thing you need is people turning on you!"

"Half the country wants me dead!" I remind him. "I'm past being afraid of making people angry!"

He grabs my wrist and pulls me in, taking my face between his hands, his voice desperate. "I remember the day they brought you here in chains. The king could decide at any moment he wants you dead and there's nothing I'll be able to do to stop it." His voice quakes, and I realise it's not anger he feels, but fear. "You might not care about your life, but I do."

I look into those dark eyes, at a loss. "Then you might just be the only person in Westeros who does."

His next words leave me not knowing how to feel. "If that were true then you'd be dead."

"They care about my name, Rhaenyra Targaryen. I'm a pawn to them. You are the only person in the world who actually cares about me."

He must see the tears in my eyes as he pulls me into his arms, a hand in my hair and in his arms I feel safe, safe to let my guard down.

"Well if there's only one person in the world who does it's me," he murmurs, his forehead resting against mine. "Because you're the first person to ever look at me as more than a bastard."

His beard is rough beneath my hand as I touch his cheek. "Because you are, you're so much more than what the world sees."

I look up into his eyes, a look reserved only for me, except it's then we're interrupted.

A guard stands there and gives an order "Lady Rhaenyra, Lord Stark would look to see you in your room."

I nod and Jon says "Look don't worry, I'm sure he's just giving you a warning, I'll meet you up there okay?"

"Okay," I say, taking his reassurances with me as I head back inside, up the staircase and through the halls to where my bedroom is, in the same hallway as Sansa and Arya's.

Anxiously I hesitate outside my room, expecting Ned to be inside, but when I open the door it's empty. Confused I step inside only to catch a flicker of movement out of the corner of my eye, but it's enough I run forward to the sword on table only to be grabbed by my hair and thrown into the stone wall, arms shielding my face as I'm beaten to the ground, kicking and screaming but it's not enough.

"No!" I cry out as the attacker grabs me by the hair and drags me across the floor, raising the dagger high up in the air as I thrash and fight, struggling against him for just long enough to scream out "Jon! Jon!"

Before the dagger can meet my flesh the door bursts open and the attacker is pulled from me, dagger hitting the ground as I scramble to my feet to find Jon beating the man bloody, and for some reason I don't stop him. Not as I pick up the blade and step forward with shaking legs to find the man's face unrecognisable, nose broken and face bloody.

It's only then as Jon sees me he stops, knuckles bloody as I raise the dagger, only to be stopped by the guards that rush inside the room, pulling me back as Ned marches in, taking in the scene before him.

"Get off me!" I fight, Jon grabbing me out of the guards grasp and holding me back himself as Ned pulls the attacker up from the ground.

"Who sent you?" Ned asks him as Jon holds me. "Who sent you to kill the princess."

The man does not answer, and it's as he opens his mouth with a bloody smile we see he has no tongue.

"Kill him," I order, Ned looking back at me in shock. "Do it or I will."

"Rhaenyra-"

Jon lets me go so I can step forward, holding my head high. "Give me the damn blade."

He doesn't respond fast enough and so I snatch it out of his hand before the guards can pull me back, thrusting it into his neck, watching the blood stain spurt and stain the stone at my feet.

The room is silent as Jon comes forward, carefully removing the blade from my hand, Ned watching in shock at the blood covering us both.

"Jon, you're going to take her North to the wall," Ned stammers. "Benjen will keep her safe until we can figure out who sent the assassin."

"So this is your answer?" Jon says to Ned, the first time I have ever heard him question his father. "To just send her away to the wall?"

"Until the threat has passed yes."

"The threat will never pass," I argue, knowing better than any of them ever could. "I've been running from assassins since the moment I was born. I know how to survive them." I look to Jon, the only person here I truly trust. "We'll go to the wall, but do not expect the threat to pass."

Jon doesn't argue, instead nodding as Ned says "Now you best leave tonight. I'm going to find out who saw what."

Ned leaves as the guards drag the body from the room, and the moment the door shuts Jon takes me in his arms, his bloody hand coming to touch my bruised cheek. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," I breathe, although he doesn't believe it, my shaking hand brings his bloody knuckles to my lips. "I'm fine, we're fine."

He pulls me in tight, lips on my forehead. "Get whatever you need and meet me by the stables."

I nod, holding onto him for a moment longer than I need. The blood on the floor should frighten me, as should the blood on his hands, but it's quite the opposite.

"Thank you," I breathe, holding his bloody hands in my own, unafraid. "I knew you'd come."

"You're lucky I was just down the hall," he says, the one who's afraid. "Otherwise-"

"Otherwise doesn't matter," I say to him. "I'm alive thanks to you, you'll keep me safe. You're the only one I trust to do so."

My faith in him must mean something, for he says "I will keep you safe, I promise."

"Now go," I tell him. "I'll meet you by the stables."

He nods and leaves to ready the horses for the journey while I turn to look at the blood on the floor, the guards having dragged the body out. I've never been a stranger to blood, but it is a bitter reminder I'll never be free of my enemies.

Which is why the first thing I grab is the sword Jon gifted me for my sixteenth nameday, one he had forged himself, the only present I received, the only one who cared enough. I spent a long time trying to find a name for it. The two ancestral swords of House Targaryen being Dark Sister and Blackfyre. Both lost to history. While I held it all I could think of was my sister across the narrow sea and the name we shared, Stormborn.

And so it came to me. Storm Sister. An ode to a sword lost and to a sister lost.

Quickly I find my riding clothes, the best fit and the warmest for the journey north, pulling my hooded cloak around my shoulders and lifting it to hide my silver hair, to disappear in the night with the one person in the world I trust.

Taglist:

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emisue-khaleesi siobhan-marie01 attackonthrones queenofnightdreamland jaehaerys-l canvashearts shipsandfics27 everybirdfellsilent angie1djonasgg dream-alittlebiggerdarling

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#jon snow #jon snow x oc #jon snow fanfic #jon snow x reader #jon snow fanfiction #game of thrones #daenerys targaryen fanfiction #daenerys targaryen #daenerys fanfiction #targaryen oc #oberyn martell #oberyn martell x oc #oberyn martell fanfiction #house of the dragon #targaryen #fanfiction #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones fanfic #yes this is incesty but idgaf

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perdidosbucky-yyo · 2 years

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I AM BEGGING YOU

I AM ON MY KNEES

Kindly asking for some Jonerys fic recs PLEASE.

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#Game of thrones #daenerys targaryen #jonerys #Daenerys targaryen fanfiction #digging up carrot's veggies 🥕#Instagram

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shuichiakainx · 7 months

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in love with this man 😩💕

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k4marina · 2 months

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— ii. Dragon Rider || Heart of the Dragon

synopsis: a new routine in a new world

warnings: idek lol. unedited and not properly read (i kept falling asleep lmao)

series masterlist

~ 2.5k word count.

game of thrones x modern!fem!reader

[gif found on pinterest]

Never in my life have I regretted anything more than I did now.

“Me and my big fucking mouth,” I grunted, getting up from the ground and dusting my leather pants. Gray Worm looks at me with a slightly amused expression. Of course he would, he just dropped me onto my ass for the fifth time today.

It had been almost two weeks after the Small Council meeting. There had been a few more since then, but no major topics were discussed, other than Varys begrudgingly backing what I had said about Cersie having scorpions when asked if his little birds had any news. The new armor and weapons for the Unsullied are also being made. After a few talks with Daenerys, Gray Worm, a few Unsullied commanders, and I, the new armor design was decided on. Surprisingly the Unsullied were very artistic people and had great ideas.

And, within the past two weeks, I’ve been tortured everyday, my limbs aching all the time, threatening to fall off. Everyday, I’ve been woken up at four in the morning for my sword lessons with Gray Worm for five hours a day. When I said I wanted to learn, I didn’t mean I wanted to train to be the world's best swordsman of all time.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” I say towards him, wiping away the sweat on my face.

“I have no idea to what you are referring to, My Lady.” Gray Worm says, feigning innocence.

“You can’t call me ‘My Lady’ and then drop me on my ass for the fifth time.” I pointed out.

Gray Worm smiled and got into a fighting stance and I mirrored. “Your defense has gotten better; however, your strength and stamina is lacking.”

He gave the signal and charged towards me, going to swing towards my left. I sidestepped and blocked the hit with my sword before knocking it back. This time, I went for the attack, but Gray Worm expertly blocked me and knocked the sword out of my hand. The sword clattered against the stone ground, landing a few feet away from me.

“Maybe it’s best we stop for today.” He says, picking up the sword and placing it back onto the rack. I let out a sigh of relief and walked over to the inches, grabbing a towel and wiping the sweat away from my face and neck.

“Be honest,” I said, turning towards him. “Am I a lost cause?”

He snorts out a laugh and shakes his head. “Apologies, My Lady.” Once he’d composed himself he answered, “No, I do not believe you are a ‘lost cause’. It may seem difficult now, but it will get easier later on.”

“Wow, wise words,” I said sarcastically, taking a swig of water from the canteen. “They should call you ‘Gray Worm the Wise’.”

“I’m pleased that you think I am someone with wisdom.” He says, giving a small bow, making me chuckle.

After the lessons, I took a bath in my room, this time with the help of the servants. The first few days I would have them leave so I could bathe myself, but I guess over the days it just naturally happened. Once bathed and dressed in a white dress with gold embroidery and pearl beads before I made my way to the hall to have breakfast with Daenerys.

Not only was it a good way for us to get to know one another (mainly her learning about me) as well as discussing future events and how we would maneuver through it. However, not all of it. I had made the decision to not tell her about Jon Snow or the White Walkers, I think that’s something she should organically go through. All she knows about Jon is that he’s the King in the North is Jon Snow, Ned Stark's “bastard” and the former Nights Watch Lord Commander who came back from the dead.

The doors to the hall were swung open for me and I walked in, spotting Daenerys at the head of the table, looking through some documents. The sound of the doors closing, snapped her out of her thoughts. When she saw me she smiled, which I returned.

“What did I say about bringing work to the dining table,” I lightly scolded. She gave me a sheepish look and protested, “it can’t be helped, it's important work. As Queen I’m expected to do this and more.”

I walked over to her, carefully taking the documents and setting them off to the side. “Dany, you’ve been a Queen since you married Khal Drogo. You need to step back and take some time to just be Daenerys. Otherwise you’ll grow overworked.”

“Alright, alright. If you’re so sure.” She nodded towards the servants to begin serving the food. Like always, an array of food was laid out for us to eat. We both began to eat, making small talk and updating each other with any new updates.

“Gray Worm has been telling me that you’re quite exceptional with a sword,” She teased.

I playfully rolled my eyes, groaning, “not you too.” She let out a laugh, teasing me some more. “What? He says you’re a fast learner. He says he’s never seen someone land on their arse five times in a row.”

“Right, that’s it.” I huffed. “I’m running away.”

Daenerys laughed some more and I tried to hide my smile. Truthfully, she reminded me of my younger cousin in Volantis, Mera. Both of them had a heart of gold and an innocent child-like soul deep down.

“The servants told me that you refused to have your hair braided.” Daenerys points out. She’s not wrong. Instead of braiding my hair I opted to leave it in a ponytail or let it down.

“Well, I haven’t won any battles.” I said. “Each one of your braids represents a battle won, I haven’t won anything.”

“So if you win you’ll braid your hair?”

“Sure, why not. Why? Do you not want me to?”

“No, no. Actually, I would quite like that.” She smiled.

I eyed her suspiciously, “don’t tell me you’re planning on putting me in the frontlines.”

She shrugged. “Maybe. Your lessons with Gray Worm are going well. Who knows, by the time we’re ready for war you’ll be a master swordsman –or rather swordswoman.”

The rest of the breakfast went fine. Daenerys and I decided to take a stroll around the castle ground claiming she has something to show me. She dropped off the papers in her office before taking me through the back of the castle to the open fields in the back. The wind swept by us, carrying the saltiness of the ocean and the fresh scent of grass.

“Where are we going?” I asked as she led me deeper into the field.

“I just wanted to show you something. They’re right over there.”

We stood atop a hill and at the foot of the hill on the other side resting were Daenerys’ dragons. I felt my heart stop. No way. What the actual fuck. My mouth ran dry as I looked over the three dragons. Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion, all in their full glory. I looked over to Daenerys who was already looking towards me.

“You’re serious?” I ask. She smiles and nods. “What if they don’t like me and decide to eat me?”

Daenerys laughed, her cheeks turning pink. “They will do none of that sort, I swear. I have a strong feeling that they will like you.”

Carefully she led me closer to the three dragons. With every step they just grew more and more. They towered over the two of us and stood with immense power. And to think that these three are just a small fraction of the size of Balerion and the rest of the Targaryen fleet.

We stood a few feet away but I could still feel the heat that they emitted from their bodies. Their majestic eyes that were probably the size of my head watched me carefully. Shiny scales adorned their bodies that looked to be about the size of my hand or bigger. Their one claw nail was the same size as my limbs.

Holy fuck was this crazy. I’d read about these dragons and even saw a few drawings made by people who’d seen them in textbooks, but being this up close and personal with them was a whole other experience.

Oddly enough, for such dangerous creatures, they seemed to emit a sense of calm.

“You feel it too?” Daenerys eyes my reactions to the dragons. “Their calm.”

I nodded. “I thought my heart would be doing somersaults in my chest, but it’s not.” After the initial shock, I felt my body relax.

“They’re so beautiful.” I said to no one in particular.

We hung around them for some time, allowing me to get used to their presence while Daenerys told me stories about her and her dragons.

I looked over the dragons. Drogon, named after Daenerys’ husband Khal Drogo. Rhaegal, named after Rhaegar the Dragon Prince. Viserion, named after Viserys the Beggar King.

Daenerys followed my gaze to the cream and gold scales dragon that laid on the grass alongside his brothers. Viserion and Rhaegal seemed to play fight while Drogon watched.

“Despite their playful nature, those two are the oldest.”

“What?

The dragons carefully made their way over to where we stood. Drogon moved towards Daenerys, moving his tail around her as if giving her a hug. Rhaegal moved around behind us, opting to lounge. Viserion, however, moved closer to me. His green eyes bore into mine, as if it was trying to communicate with me.

He brought his face closer to me, like a dog wanting to be pet. I glanced back at Daenerys who nodded.

Viserion tilts his head when I carefully bring my hand up to stroke his gold and cream scales. A deep purr comes from him, nearly startling me. He nuzzles his head into my palm and purrs some more. It wasn’t like a cat's purr, more like a deep bass.

“Would you like to fly him?” Daenerys asks.

“Yes,” I replied without a thought, too entranced at the dragon in front of me.

She moves around Drogo, standing to the side of him.

“Stand like this,” she says. “This is what I find the easiest.”

I mimic her stance, standing besides Viserion. Drogon crouched down and Daenerys carefully stepped up, using his scales and spikes to seat herself atop the dragon.

I copied her, being careful to not hurt Viserion (not that I’d be able to) and sat myself on top of the gold dragon. It was uncomfortable, almost like riding a really large horse with spikes and scales. How Daenerys was able to ride her dragons without a saddle or harness was beyond me.

My hands gripped onto the spikes on Viserions back, holding on tightly as the gold dragon began to shift around from a crouched position to fully stand. My hands gripped onto him tighter as I tried not to fall off. I peaked over its massive body to see that Viserion was getting ready to take off.

“W-wait!” I looked towards Daenerys who was watching from atop Drogon. “Why is it taking off? What do I do?” Panic filled my voice.

There was no way in seven hells that she thinks that I can fly, right?

“Hold on!” She grins just as Drogon takes off into the sky. VIserion gets ready and I can already feel myself slipping off. He takes off just as I adjust my position, hunching down and tightening my grip onto his spikes.

Wind rushes past my ears and my hair flows all over the place. Instinctively, I closed my eyes while Viserion flew in the air. I could hear Daenerys call for me from across the sky.

“Open your eyes!” She says. “You’ll be safe, I promise.”

Carefully, I opened them. It was brighter up in the sky than on the ground and had a lot less clouds. I could hear the, surprisingly, gentle flaps of Viserions wings. I cautiously looked down, seeing that we were miles off the ground, so far up that we could see Dragonstone Island and I could feel my stomach start to buzz.

“Don’t look down,” I look up to see Daenerys. “When it was my first time I was terrified, as well, but you cannot let your fear control you or else it will transfer to your dragon.”

I nodded, taking in her words and sitting up straight with confidence. Despite still feeling uneasy I managed to get my grip on things (literally). Daenerys’ words rung in my ears.

“Your dragon,”

I’d read of Dragons bonding with non-Targaryens or non-Valyrians, case and point being Hugh Hammer riding Vermithor during the Dance of Dragons. But it would make sense if I could bond with Viserion in light of recent findings.

“Alright, let’s see what we can do.” I said to Viserion and I.

—

Daenerys and I spent the rest of the day riding our dragons. It was challenging, especially the part where you literally have to hold onto for dear life, but rewarding in the end.

In the end Viserion and I had truly bonded. He would know what I was thinking or how I was feeling without even saying a word to him. At first I thought it was just the two of us getting the hang of each other, but Daenerys explained that this was what she and Drogon felt. It was hard to believe that I was a Dragon Rider. But then again, this past week has shown that anything could be possible.

Getting off the Dragons was harder than getting on, my dress snagging on its scales, but not ripping entirely.

“I can help you with your riding,” Daenerys says as we walk back into the castle.

“I’d like that.” I replied. “I’m sure we can find books in the libraries that can help us too.”

“Have you uncovered anything else?” She asks, expectantly.

I shook my head. “Nothing of significance. I’ll keep reading and let you in on my findings.”

We split off so we could clean ourselves up and get ready for dinner. The bathtub was already ready for me when I entered the room. I pulled off my dress and sunk into the steaming hot water. The tension in my shoulders loosened and I dipped my head back to rest on the edge of the bathtub.

The weight of my necklace lay heavy on my chest, a firm reminder of my… predicament. I tried not to think about it all, otherwise I’d just spiral into some rabbit hole. Some days I wonder if it’s all some sort of dream. A long, vivid dream that I can't wake up from. A knot pulls at my chest, and my throat closes. My eyes flicker up to the ceiling, tears threatening to fall. I took a deep breath, the only thing I can do is take everything in day by day.

And then I fully submerged myself into the water.

a/n: finally, it’s here :) mb if there’s any spelling mistakes, i tried to proofread it but i kept falling asleep and couldn’t be asked anymore 😭 i’ll fix it later, trust 🙏.

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@wotcherpeak @music-luver25 @your-favorite-god @radiantdanvers @cluelessteam @daenerys713 @ministark @laanswife @idohknow @jromanoff

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fromtheseventhhell · 4 months

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Very funny to me how Stansas present her character as being so interesting and complex because of her vulnerabilities, while simultaneously ignoring those same vulnerabilities in other characters. Dany is sold as a bridal slave and lacks agency throughout AGOT and after. Her dragons are either too young/small to utilize effectively or locked away for the majority of the story. They aren't some all-powerful trump card that protects her from harm. Arya is captured as a prisoner of war, forced to watch countless people tortured and murdered, and then essentially enslaved in Harrenhal with no way to fight back. She has an entire arc of feeling powerless, of being a "mouse", during ACOK. She doesn't have "kung-fu" or the ability to magically fight her way out of every situation, she's a young child lacking physical strength with only the most basic sword training.

Sansa isn't the only female character, she isn't the only young character, she isn't the only character who suffered, and no one is obligated to prioritize her. I'm so tired of Dany and Arya being mischaracterized and having their stories erased to prop Sansa up. "Sansa has kept her dignity" In other words, let's praise her for having a level of security that Dany and Arya don't have access to. She hasn't ever been forced to make a hard decision which of course means that she's morally superior to them. They can't even admit to themselves that her lack of action is due to her own passivity. If it doesn't fit their delusion, they erase it from the story and expect the rest of us to play along. Ask one of them what they like about her character without bringing up her being the ultimate victim, and I genuinely don't believe they'd be able to give you an answer. They belittle other characters more than they talk about her and these takes just scream insecurity/jealousy at the content and development other characters have in their POVs.

#arya stark #daenerys targaryen #anti arya bs #anti daenerys bs #asoiaf #anti sansa stans #these being comments on a video of a stansas /correcting/ a Dany stan...the jokes write themselves #/she's a break from the fantasy/ /people would be equally powerless in her situation/ like they aren't even pretending #that they don't use her as a boring every-man self-insert #okay she's subjectively /normal/...what is interesting or important about that in a fantasy novel? 😭#Arya and Dany are so interesting because they have that complexity...vulnerability but also the strength to navigate their situations #and it isn't because they're /special/ it's because that's who they are as characters #Reducing Dany to her dragons or Arya to her combat abilities (which barely exist) is such a disservice to their arcs #but of course acknowledging that they're well-developed and empathetic doesn't square with their fantasy that #Sansa is the most pure important character who deserves everything because she suffered 🙄#they really write entire fanfictions and then go /why don't people think like us?? 😔/#/Sansa kept her dignity/ yeah that's why she's currently part of a plot to poison a disabled child #because she was told she'd benefit from it oh yeah she's sooooooo morally superior to Dany and Arya 😑

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epiphany-of-a-madwoman · 11 months

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To Dream of Home | D. Targaryen

▹ Pairing: Daenerys Targaryen x Stark!Reader

▹ Genre: Fluff with mentioned Angst

▹ Words: ~2.5k

▹ Summary: A storm at Dragonstone brings you and Daenerys together and allows for confessions of love to slip.

▹ Note: I am very gay, that is all. My love for the Targaryen's has returned and y'all are gonna be sick of me.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

A storm raged on the island of Dragonstone.

Charcoal skies were dappled with thick silver-black clouds that brought the heavy rains that shook the keep. Roaring thunder and electric blue lightning. Treacherous seas and a storm that could rival the vengeance of a god. The inhabitants of Dragonstone seemed acclimated to the severe weather.

You, however, were used to winter winds and thick snowfall. Not devastating rain and earth rattling thunder. Sleep eluded you which led you to where you were now. Locked away in a small room near your chambers, you made a makeshift altar upon your arrival to Dragonstone with your half-brother Jon.

“You spend an awful amount of time here.”

The voice cut through the silence, an intrusion of your time of peace. Kneeled before the makeshift altar you’d created, a half dozen flickering candles illuminated the center of your face and carved shadows on the contours of it. Wordlessly, you finished the final verses of your prayer before lifting your lowered head and turning to face the intruder.

At the doorway, not daring to cross into the room without permission, was Daenerys. Her hesitance to intrude was strange, seeing as Dragonstone was her keep you were a guest in.

Her hair was loose, waves cascading over her shoulder and down her back. The curls and creases left by her braids were the only reminders they’d been there. She wore dressing robes in hues of blue, embroidered flowers and designs following the curve of her body. She was beautiful in an ethereal kind of way. It was the type of beauty you half expected to be a facade, that one day you would wake to find Daenerys had only ever existed in your mind.

“I find the prayer soothing,” you responded, slowly standing. Your legs were sore from kneeling on the hard stone too long. There was a crick in your neck that tinged painfully if you turned your head too far left or too far right. Yet you did your best to keep a grimace from your expression. The last thing you needed was Daenerys thinking it was her presence you found unpleasant and not the needling pain in your body.

“Do you pray often?” She shifted her head, causing tendrils of silvery hair to move from over her shoulder to rest along her back. Violet eyes stared at you curiously, lips pursed in an almost grin. She hardly seemed to smile, the oppressive halls of Dragonstone mimicking the impending war for the Iron Throne.

“I do, yet I do not believe the gods are listening,” you muttered the last part quietly, followed by a deep breath.

You glanced towards the candles and the altar, recounting every moment you’d spent kneeling before ones just like it. The years had been unkind, the horrors only growing worse as the years passed. It had shaped you into the woman you were today, hardened by deaths you never should’ve witnessed. Yet there was a part of the ten-year-old girl that still lived within you, that believed the gods were listening and that if you prayed hard enough, they would grant your wishes.

“I never did much praying as a child, my brother didn’t see the point.” Her eyes moved past you, staring at the makeshift altar. Lit by the dim light of the room, you could see a hint of melancholy that tinged her violet eyes blue. Your gaze lowered to the ground at the mention of her brother, her upbringing so different than yours had been.

Northerners were as harsh and cold as the winter winds they grew up in, but beneath all the cold, austere facades your family was as warm as the hearth in the great hall. You’d grown up with a family who loved and cared for you. Whispers of Viserys’ anger reached even the North, his grief twisted into madness.

Both parties may have passed, but at least you had your family's love to hold onto during the darkest nights. Daenerys had no such thing. Nothing but the hope of reclaiming her family’s stolen valor as a light in the night.

“If you want, we could pray together.” Her attention returned to you. “It may help you sleep through the storm.”

Daenerys pondered your offer for a moment before accepting with a single nod. She crossed the threshold into the room, her gown following her like a cloak. You returned to the kneeling position you were in before, Daenerys taking her place beside you.

“Some people believe there are specific words you have to use, that then have to be said in a specific order or the gods won’t care. But I don’t believe that, I allow my feelings to guide my prayers. Perhaps that’s why the gods aren’t answering me, but I feel better that way.”

Daenerys nodded, watching you with such attentive eyes you had to look away in fear of the flush that would appear on your face. “Do you say them out loud?”

“Sometimes, but mostly I just mentally recite them. It feels like it's my own secret that way.” There was a hint of coyness in your voice that made a smile appear on the corners of Daenerys’ lips.

Silence fell over the room, only the roar of thunder and the patter of rain to be heard. The candles continued to burn, the wax melting and staining the stone flooring. There was a single window in the room, a flash of lightning filling it with pale blue light. Subconsciously, your eyes moved to Daenerys’ side profile.

Her eyes were shut and her lips slightly parted. She looked so soft and innocent, and you wondered if this was who she could’ve stayed if not for the rebellion that harshened her worldview. What would she have become if she didn’t have to fight tooth and nail every moment of her life just to survive? The quiet of the room and the soft curves of her face allowed you to imagine just how different she may be in a different lifetime.

Your eyes had lingered on her too long, you knew, but you couldn’t look away. Your heartbeat had sped up, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. She’d always made you feel giddy like a child, but now that there was no chaos to distract you. It was easier to hone in on the feelings she elicited from you. And perhaps you shouldn’t entertain them, but a small sliver of hope kept you holding on.

The weight of your gaze must’ve been heavy because Daenerys lifted her closed eyes from the floor and met your gaze. Her expression was unreadable, but you could’ve sworn her eyes flickered to your lips before meeting your eyes.

“What did you pray for?” The words fell from your tongue before you could consider how invasive they could be. But she didn’t seem offended, a small blossoming on her face as another streak of lightning filled the room. It made her skin glow, making her look even more otherworldly.

“I prayed for home.”

Her answer sent a pang of sadness that was surely reflected in your eyes. She brought dragons back to the world and freed the slaves of Slaver’s Bay while uniting the Dothraki under one banner and making them cross the sea for the first time ever. So many fantastical acts were done because of her, it was easy to forget behind it all was just a scared girl. She could make herself of steel and ice, but underneath it all would always be flesh.

“I pray for home as well,” you uttered.

She raised a brow, non-verbally asking you to elaborate. Her expression was so attentive, like a sponge ready to soak up whatever information you may present to her.

How could you possibly ever deny her?

“I very much wish to return to the North. The short days and long nights, the air that was sharp with a bitter chill. Grey skies and white grounds. Snowflakes that fell into my mouth as Theon and Robb chased me to the edge of the woods. The sky was bleak and void of color, but the hearths in the Great Hall made light dance in the keep, mead keeping everyone warm and merry.”

The smile on your face was tinged with melancholia, the grief making your body lock up and freeze. Those days were long gone, and you could never return to them. That didn’t stop you from wishing for it, however.

To hope that one day you might wake up and find this had all been a terrible dream. Your mother and father were still alive, Robb was preparing to become Lord of Winterfell; Arya and Sansa would continue to bicker and Jon would join the Night’s Watch to make something of himself. Everything would be right and war wouldn’t cast a shadow far darker than that of the worst winter storms.

But those were the wishes of a naive child, the life you were in is the life you’re stuck with. But perhaps in another lifetime, you got to live out every fantasy and forgotten dream.

“That sounds beautiful.”

Daenerys’ voice pulled you from your reminiscing, your eyes wandering back to hers.

“It was.”

“And yet you left Winterfell to come here with your brother?”

You swallowed thickly. Winterfell had become a bittersweet place. Walking the Great Hall felt as if you were in a haunted house. The ghosts of past memories lingered in every corner, the echoes of laughter you’d never hear again filling your head. The relief being home had brought you had been short-lived, the weight of the betrayal of Theon and the Bolton’s tainting it.

Winterfell wasn’t home anymore.

“I--” you stuttered, unsure of just how to put your feelings into words. How do you tell someone that your home doesn’t feel like home anymore? How do you explain everything you had fought for felt empty in the end? It didn’t lift your pain or mend the scars of the past years. Instead, it ripped over the scabs and left you bleeding in the snow.

“I don’t know if Winterfell is my home anymore.”

Daenerys hummed, nodding her head. Her expression was solemn and in her eyes, you saw understanding. She knew all too well the conflicting sentiment of fighting for something you may not want in the end.

“When I was a girl, Viserys and I lived in a house in Braavos with a red door and lemon tree outside my window. It was the closest thing to home I’d had.”

Subtly, you scooted closer to Daenerys, eager to unravel more of her elusive past. She hardly spoke of her life with Viserys, most of the memories too painful to reminisce on. And maybe, just maybe, her vulnerability was a sign that your feelings weren’t so unrequited.

“What was it like?” You prod for her to speak more on her time in Braavos, enraptured by the glimmer in her eyes.

“It was a beautiful house and so large, at least it seemed large at the time. There was even a room with a wooden beam with animal faces carved in it. I had my own room and a window to peer outside. I’d sit there for hours, watching the sunrise and the sunset.”

Her hand rested on the floor, and tentatively, you reached over and placed your hand over hers. You half expected her to brush you off, but instead, she leaned closer to you. Shoulder to shoulder, you could smell the floral oils her hair had been washed with.

“What happened to it?”

She sighed, eyes wandering back to the altar. “Our patron passed and the servants sent us away. But even after all these years, I still long to return. To escape to the innocence of my youth.”

A beat of silence passed, Daenerys longing words hanging in the air.

“We could always return.”

Daenerys turned, meeting your gaze. Inches separated your face from hers, and this close up, you could see the faint freckles that created constellations on her skin.

“And if it’s no longer standing?”

Your heart stuttered as you hesitated on your next words. It was now or never, the time to lay your cards on the table and learn if your hope was delusional.

“We could build a new one with a lemon tree just outside the bedroom. I’m not much of a widdler, but I could try to carve new animal faces in the wooden beams in all the rooms.”

For a moment Daenerys doesn’t speak, doesn’t even seem to breathe. Her eyes are locked with yours, wide and unblinking. Nerves begin to create a thousand cuts in your mind, perhaps you’d been too forward in your confession.

“And you would stay with me?”

She wanted to hear you say it, to verbalize you’d never leave her side, not willingly.

“I’m not much for the heat, but I could learn to love it to never leave your side.”

She exhaled a small puff of air, a smile lighting up her face. The apples of her cheeks were rounded and rosy, violet eyes twinkling like the stars in the sky. The sudden impulse to run your fingers through her hair came over you. And you acted on it, gently carding your fingers through the silver-gold strands of hair.

“Then perhaps we meet in the middle and build our house with the red door in a more temperate climate.”

She leaned closer, the tips of your noses brushing.

“We could make our home on the mountainside? It would leave plenty of room for the dragons,” you suggested. Daenerys smiled, the whisper of a laugh leaving her mouth. The sound was the sweetest melody you’d ever heard. You’d never wanted to stop hearing it.

“And direwolves?”

“Maybe one or two.”

You cut off whatever Daenerys may have replied with, placing your lips against hers. The kiss was gentle as if to seal the promise you’d made. She smiled into it, her hands weaving themselves around your neck. You pulled her closer, practically pulling her into your lap; you’d wanted her as close as possible. To bask in the warmth radiating from her body and the softness of her skin under your fingertips.

Perhaps things would’ve been different in another lifetime, where Daenerys got to be the princess she should’ve been and you the daughter of a very much alive Ned Stark. But perhaps in those lifetimes you and Daenerys would never be more than passing acquaintances. She'd be the princess of the kingdom and you the lady-daughter of the Warden of the North.

This lifetime felt like trying to sail through a storm and Daenerys was the lighthouse guiding you to the shore. The death and loss had been painful, but it all led you to this moment with Daenerys. It nearly made the events of the past years worth it.

"Let's win this war so we can build our silly little house," you muttered against her lips, eliciting another laugh from Daenerys before she placed her lips on yours again.

You would give Daenerys her house with the red door and the lemon tree outside, no matter the cost.

#daenerys targaryen #daenerys targaryen imagine #daenerys targaryen x reader #Daenerys Targaryen x Stark!reader #daenerys x fem!reader #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #got #got imagine #Daenerys targaryen x fem!reader #game of thrones oneshot #game of thrones fanfiction #Daenerys x Stark!reader

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councilofcastamere · 17 days

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wouldn’t Zaar Goedemans make a great fancast as the daughter of Laenor and Rhaenyra had they ever been able to conceive? ♡︎

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 1 year

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Dragon Pt.2

Pairing(s): Daenerys Targaryen x Assassin!Reader, implied Daario x Daenerys Targaryen

Warnings: gore, blood, rampage, slight fluff, killing

Words:5535

Summary: Daenerys is good on her promise to make you more than a bloodthirsty assassin. She truly molds you into a dragon.

Part 1

Requested by many of you but in particular @alexkolax since they gave me the prompt 😊😊

In a short amount of time, your life had changed considerably. You were now considered one of Daenerys Targaryen’s most trusted member of her small court. Drogon may have been considered Daenerys’ ‘winged shadow’ but you were her actual shadow personified. She made sure to keep you close to her at all times not just for protection but also her genuine fondness of your company.

Growing to know the Silver Queen who was once your bounty, you’d admit you felt the same fondness.

No one would deny the utter beauty of Daenerys, but it was her authentic warmth that initially broke through your mountain high walls you built around yourself. They’d been a necessary growing up with four brothers. You built those walls so that nothing may break them down. Reinforced with your blood and nightmares.

As a child you had never known such kindness in a person. The people you saw on a daily basis were always less than kind and had ulterior motives up their sleeves.

Your own father murdered your mother after your birth. She was seen as defected since she gave birth to a girl. Up until then, she’d gifted your father with strong, healthy boys that were more than willing to carry on their father’s brutality.

He should have killed you right then and there. Despite all of your father’s flaws, he never killed children. Orphan them, yes, but he wouldn’t outright murder them like he had so many others. So he was stuck with you and subjected you to the same training all your other brothers had undergone prior to your existence.

Under their strict tutelage, you learned how to walk before crawling; such was the fury of their instructions that you aimed to do everything perfectly the first time to not receive their retribution. You couldn’t afford to mess up. Throughout your childhood, you aimed to prove to your family that you were just as good as them. And in all honesty, you were. You were the one to receive the best jobs; customers asked for you specifically.

Rage often fueled their actions, ultimately making them blind to reason. Such was the folly of men. You however were level headed. Anger was an inherited trait in you that you were always able to keep at bay until you needed it. You had full control of it and coexisted with it.

Happily you used the violence that festered in your soul to protect her, any means necessary.

You yourself had located the heart of the Sons of the Harpy swarm that was like a plague in Meereen. You’d earned the respect of the older men in her service that day when you slew the handful that had been surrounding you, Daenerys and Missandei. There had been doubt in you whether or not you could hold them off. They were coming from all sides and angles, relentless attempts to try and harm either of them resulted in a loss of a life or limbs.

Drogon was the true savior of the day. Dany took her rightful place atop of Drogon’s back, but not before she pulled you up with her.

Due to your occupation, you didn’t tend to feel the sensation of fear. It was trained out of you by your eldest brother Nakillos.

Being on top of an actual dragon?

You had never known a fear of heights until Drogon took off into the sky

Dany. . . Well you had Dany to thank for saving you. She revealed that she wasn’t just tenderness and warmth, but a force to be reckoned with. When the Dothraki horde accosted the two of you, you knew that you couldn’t slay all of them and get you and Dany to safety. She held your hand though and reassured you that everything would be alright.

She took things under control from then on. And what could you say? You admired the authority that shadowed her sweet features and she truly spoke like someone who had royal blood coarsing through them.

Not once did you regret leaving your old life behind to vow your fealty to Daenerys.

For the first time in your life you actually felt worthy of something. The deadly skills you had in your itinerary could be used for a proper cause instead of mindless hunger for more victims and gold. A monster that would never be satisfied. You cared not for your own happiness or that of anyone else.

Dare you even entertain the prospect that Dany brought so much light and meaning into your life. She had you feeling sorry for your past self that she didn’t know true joy until Daenerys Targaryen offered you her bloody hand.

When thee slave masters threatened to take Meereen from her control, you were right next to Grey Worm in a prompt execution.

First you happily forced them to watch their fleets be burned by her three children. Then you retrieve the specially made dagger Dany had gifted you and dragged it across Yezzan zo Qaggaz's throat. You may have been a little too happy about eliminating her enemies. The hot blood that splashed from their necks and onto your skin livened your own blood. Never had a kill been so delicious.

This was in tribute to your Silver Goddess.

Out of habit you presented the heads of the Slave Masters to her. Her face beamed with approval and delight at your morbid gifts. Even Grey Worm had turned his face away when you started severing head from necks. It was dirty work and not a pretty sight, but something inside of you made you do it. After presenting her with the head of the man who had hired you to kill her, you unconsciously made it a habit of giving her the heads of her enemies.

You promise her to do the same of her enemies in Westeros which had her cupping your cheek in the greatest show of adoration that had you weak kneed. You could tell she wanted to do more than just hold your face, but this was all she allowed herself. Other times when she was proud of you, Daenerys would toy with the Targaryen sigil that was chained around your neck. You never took it off.

The time for Westeros was coming. All she needed was a proper fleet of ships to carry her and the rest of her loyalists. It would be the first time her Dothraki horde had ever been on the water. They remained outside of the city for now along with Daario Naharis and his band of Second Sons.

The relationship between Dany and Daario was an unspoken one but you understood the truth of Daario's longing looks as you had taken his place by Dany's side. While he may have pleasure to offer her, she still preferred you as her personal sworn sword. Maybe it helped that you were also a woman. Either way it made you feel smug that you were superior to both Daario and Jorah in that manner. She didn't even trust Tyrion Lannister as much as she trusted your opinions.

Her council was in the middle of discussing how to build up their fleet and the options that lay in front of her.

You stand by her cushioned seat. Her council room was one of comfortable familiarity with plush chairs and couches. Wine was offered by those who willingly serve her.

Next to her sat Missandei who may as well have been the Westerosi version of a lady in waiting. You liked the former slave girl. She was kind like her queen and incredibly intuitive. Possessing great knowledge of diplomacy and the workings of Essos, Missandei was a great asset to Daenerys.

Across from the three of you were the men: Daario, Grey Worm, Tyrion, and Westeros' own master of whispers: Varys.

When first encountering the dwarf and eunuch, you had nearly killed both on the spot once you learned of their origins. To you, their presence was a threat to your queen and one you would quickly eliminate. They proved themselves to Daenerys and that was enough for you.

Talk of politics always bored you to tears as you stood there, form rigid and still as you took your job very seriously.

The way Tyrion and Varys droned on though about funds and potential allies made your mind drift and your eyes fell on the large window that looked out to the city. Such boredom brought you back to when you and your brothers were called upon your father to report your monthly body count and profit.

Garros, your father and the head of your clan of assassins, hated to give you praise and would spend the rest of the conference scolding your brothers. Why was a woman doing better than them?

Outside you watch the flight of her dragons as they lazily drift through the sky above the great city of Meereen. Since being released from their prison, Rhaegal and Viserion had grown in size but didn't make the mistake like their brother Drogon of eating the flock that belonged to the city. They took their hunting party far away from the city, following their large brother as he showed them better hunting grounds.

Drogon, while still unpredictable, became more docile toward Daenerys. A new bond had been established since she had officially ridden him .

A touch to your arm jolts you back into attention.

Dany only laughs at your abrupt alertness. They men were standing to leave, giving pleasantries to one another and a nod toward you. You stiffly nod back to them and watch them leave.

"Seems like I wasn't the only one bored from their talk." Missandei chuckles and pours a glass of wine for you, your signal that it was okay to relax with them now.

Gratefully you take it from her tan hands and take a sip while sitting between them. That's where they liked you. Since saving Missandei, you had gained her absolute trust. She would even call you 'my friend' when addressing you now. You'd never had a friend before. It was nice.

"I've never been able to follow political discussions." you sigh and let both of them lean against your shoulders. When the men were gone, all three of you were able to be yourselves. You knew it was hard being a woman with immense power. You couldn't let your guard down as any sign of weakness would be taken as an opportunity for those of the opposite gender. Daenerys constantly had to put up a strong front in order to maintain her power.

Dany nods in agreement, the side of her temple presses against your shoulder as she really gets comfortable next to you. Your stomach always flutters when she does such things like that. "Yes, it's not making me look forward to ruling the Seven Kingdoms."

"Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown." You say, a phrase you'd once heard your father say to Nakillos.

Her hand finds your's and gives it a squeeze. She looks up at you from under her long, dark eyelashes. "The crown is not so much a burden, not with the two of you with me."

You and Missandei smile for the both of you were all to happy to serve her.

Missandei gets up and puts her glass on the table. "Well, I must get going."

"Yes, can't keep Grey Worm waiting." Dany teases her causing the poor girl to duck her head in a blush. You giggle, actually giggle, at the obviousness of her affection for the Unsullied commander.

Flustered, she leaves without confirming Daenerys' words to be true.

Still gazing from where Missandei had fled, you smile and shake your head. "I'm happy for her."

Dany's hand hadn't left your's. Instead, her small fingers weave between your own and you feel your own blush creeping up your neck. Every touch from her was scalding. In a good way. "Me too."

Defenses lowering, you close your eyes and concentrate on the gentle rhythm of Dany’s breathing. Everything she did was mesmerizing to you and damnit if you were intoxicated on the way she makes you feel.

These moments were rare where it was just the two of you. Only once when everyone left could you allow yourself to be vulnerable. You allowed yourself these small, insignificant little moments.

At least you tried telling yourself they were insignificant. Always coming up with realistic excuses to avoid the truth that you struggled to face head on.

You like how her hands fit perfectly into your own.

You like the soft, content sighs she lets out every now and then.

You even like how drowsy you got as comfort warms you.

How had you lived for so long without this feeling? It was downright nourishing to every cell in your body.

“Will you stay with me tonight?”

Her question has your eyes popping open immediately and a quiet sort of panic seizes you. It wasn’t the first time she’d asked you to stay in her room for the night. Whether it was for comfort or. . . Something else. . . You always ran. You were a coward in that respect. Unable to face what you really desired and fighting the truth of your situation.

Again she looks up at you with those heartbreakingly beautiful eyes of hers. How could anyone be as gorgeous as she was? You didn’t even envy her beauty. Your own beauty had never mattered. You didn’t care what you looked like.

“Your Grace-“

She lifts her head from your shoulder with a scowl that knits her brows together. You hate when that expression is aimed toward you.. The last thing you wished was to displease her. “I told you, you don’t have to do that when it’s just the two of us.” Her hand leaves your’s and it goes up to the three-headed dragon pendant that had its home on your collarbone.

Since she released you, you’re on your feet and taking a step away from the couch. Pressing your lips in a straight line, you take her in. A storm of emotions plays out on her round face. “Dany,” you say softly and watch her become a puddle from you using her nickname “I don’t think that would be proper. I can go get Daari-“

You don’t finish as she stands. “Never mind. You’re dismissed.” She hastily says while turning her back to you. Her meticulous braids having held up all through her tenuous day. You’d spotted the red tips of her ears when she’d turned away from you. You hate yourself for doing that to her.

But her affections were misplaced, you were unworthy of her love.

For that’s how you both felt. You knew. You knew you were hopelessly in love with her. And Daenerys, for some odd reason, returned it tenfold. She showed you in every way possible. Daario was an infrequent guest in her bed now, had been for weeks now. Only on the nights when you turned down her offer did you spy Daario the following morning leaving her room.

Being the ever obedient servant, bow and practically leap at the opportunity to run to the door.

What a coward you were.

You stay on the other side for a while, back pressed against the council room.

You hated yourself as your cheeks burn along with your eyes. You wanted to cry, how pathetic was that? You hadn’t cried since you were a baby.

Highly sensitive ears pickup the approaching echo of footsteps. Hastily, you rub your eyes with your arm and look up to find Daario offering you a sympathetic gaze.

He inclines his head toward where he came from. “Let’s grab a drink, you and I. Yeah?”

Arrogant prick he may be, but you had to admit that you actually liked the Tyroshi. He had a charm to him, you’d give him that.

You nod. “Okay.”

“Oh just give into it already!” Daario slaps you on thee back enthusiastically once you were three drinks down. “You’re a pretty girl, she’s gorgeous, the two of you would have plenty of fun! And of course you can add me into the mix every so often.”

You snort out a laugh and shake your head. “You make it sound so easy. I’m a creature that is not used to things like love and sex. I’m not even used to physical contact but with her, she can do whatever she wants to me.”

He rolls his eyes. “Except fuck you apparently.”

Your face burns again and you know it’s not just from the drinks he poured down your throat. “I’m. . . I’m not pretty.”

“Yes you are. In a scary way. It’s sexy!”

The anxious feeling that was growing in your burst when he said that. You laugh exuberantly and Daario follows suit.

Then came back his more compassionate side that humbled him. “I only know a fraction of your past and what you’ve suffered.” When you shoot him a dubious look, Daario explains “Oh come now, even I know of you and your family. I’ve even met one of your brothers. Real twat he was.”

“You’ll have to be more specific. They’re all twats.” You comment making him chuckle in agreement.

“Comparing you from how you were when you first came here. . . I know you’re capable of love. I would have called you a monster back then. Before I got to see a peek of the real you.” You wouldn’t have considered Daario as astute as he was.

Maybe you could even consider him a friend like Missandei.

You ignore the smile that wanted freedom to be expressed on your lips. Instead you bring another drink to your lips.

“You sell yourself short. Enjoy in the pleasure our queen can give you. If it’s me you’re really worried about, don’t worry; what you and Dany have is more than lust.”

Now you were the one to roll your eyes at his ridiculousness. It was an endearing ridiculousness though. But if he could see the devotion you and Dany showed for one another, then everyone else could too. Tyrion, Varys, Missandei and maybe even Grey Worm.

“Love is the death of duty.” You murmur, eyes going dark from your turmoil. “She is my weakness. I can’t have weaknesses. You understand, right?”

Daario sighs not out of exasperation but out of melancholy. “Oh (y/n). They really did a number on you, didn’t they? No, love is what makes you stronger. It’s the fuel you reach for when you have nothing else left in the world. It’s a powerful weapon if you know how to wield it.”

You thought about what he told you long into the night until you went to bed. Your sleep was always dreamless. Preferred over having to endure more grief during unconsciousness.

Due to drinking so much the previous night, you slept far longer than you normally did. You woke up to Missandei shaking you.

Her eyes are wild, desperate even with tears unshed in her brown eyes. “She’s missing. Dany is missing.”

Your mind went blank for a moment. Her words float around in your brain before fully understanding what was going on.

Then you merely saw red. “Show me.” You knew there had to be a last known location. Security for Daenerys was of utmost importance to all of her council. It was impossible for her to go missing out of the blue.

You didn’t bother to change out of the clothes you wore the previous day. Missandei led you to her private chambers where the rest of her small council was congregated.

On her pillows was the bloody head of a lamb. Poor thing’s tongue was sticking out from the corner of its mouth. Dark eyes still open and staring blindly.

Your blood ran cold.

This was not a random abduction. It was deliberate. You knew exactly who did this.

The head of a lamb was your eldest brother’s signature. What a narcissistic dick.

You couldn’t breathe, merely staring wide eyed at it. No one had ever seen your face in such a state. It confirmed Tyrion’s worry. Powerful enemies had their queen.

Only Daario caught your gaze and really understood. He nods as you slip out the door. Missandei moves to go after you but Daario holds her back and whispers in her ear.

Furrowing her brows, Missandei watches helplessly as you make the long way ought of the pyramid and into the city. To get the answers you want, you had to go to the harbor. That’s where all rumors blossomed. Where you would get the most information.

A demon had overcome you and was now in control of your body. The only thing on your mind was finding the culprits that took your queen from under your nose. You blame yourself for not taking up her offer. Your brother would have never been able to take her if you were present.

It had to be Nakillos. If he wasn’t still in the city then he was close. You had to be quick and follow his scent.

The harbor master, while initially denying anyone with the description you gave, gave in once you showed him the savagery of your interrogation process. He only had two fingers left on his right hand before he finally caved in and told you all of what he knew. Nakillos and two other men had indeed been through the harbor.

You followed all hints. Anyone who refused to give you the information you craved was tortured until they submit to your will. You didn’t know what the members of Dany’s small council was doing, but you didn’t waste anytime in your rampage. You knew how the unsavory underworld of Essos worked. Knew all the ins and outs of even Meereen. How else could you possibly have found the nest that belonged to Sons of the Harpy.

A blood lust like this hadn’t risen in you since slaying the slave masters.

You went on a rampage as you scoured Meereen for Dany. Driven by pure rage.

By the end of the day, you’d found where your brother was staying as well several of his lackeys. You’d learned that your father had died a few months ago leaving Nakillos as sole heir to his empire which he took great advantage of.

He’d always resented you as he had been the one to bear the brunt of your father’s resentment since he was the eldest. Your father was not easy on him when you brought back better reports than him. And when you step into his makeshift lair, you see that he hasn’t changed one bit.

His face was the spitting image of your father, if not a bit younger than you last remember.

Gagged and in chains was Daenerys he glared daggers at him, unaware of the affiliation you had with this scum of the earth. They had taken over an entire building for this confrontation.

When she spots you, her lavender eyes glimmer with hope.

Nakillos leans forward with a terrible smirk. “Happy for you to finally join us.” His eyes scanned your body, drinking in the red stains on not just your clothes but also the skin of your arms. You hadn’t bothered to clean yourself up.

“I believe you have something of mine, brother.” Your words are clipped revealing the level of your patience which was none.

Dany’s eyes widen, shooting toward Nakillos whose grin only broadens.

He stands up, towering at almost seven feet. Anyone else would be scared, intimidated even. Never you though. Each step he takes toward you is a heavy thud.

“You’ve grown soft, (y/n).” He comments with a tilt of his chin. “It was quite easy to find news about you and your whereabouts. Not to mention that you’re now in league with the Targaryen cunt.”

You internally bristle at that snide remark but keep your features a void canvas. It pissed your brothers off the most when you didn’t react to their taunts.

That hadn’t changed either. His lip pulls up in a snarl.

His weapons are strung to not just his back but his hips as well. All assassins had a great arsenal of weapons no matter what the occasion.

His men seemed to close in on you so you were now stuck in a circle with your brother. Daenerys muffles words that were covered by the strip of fabric that wrapped around her head and blocked her mouth.

“You’re a fool to come here all by yourself.” Nakillos spits out while reaching behind his back to retrieve a blade from the sheath across his shoulder blades. “I’ll do what our father could never do: end you.”

In a monotone voice, you reply “You can try. Like you have so many times before.” Your own blade easily slipped from your sleeve to your hand. You too had quite the instruments hung off of your belt; some already stained with a crimson substance.

He’d been a bastard to you all your life. You would not mourn killing him.

On light feet, you sped forward; catching him off guard. Nakillos raises his arm, sword coming up to his defense. But your other hand though also wield a blade that he hadn’t seen until the last second.

You were able to slice a large chunk of his thigh and side before he slides away and begins his own onslaught.

Nakillos always favored in throwing his weight around. He did it with your three other brothers and yourself.

All of them lacked the speed and dexterity you had.

You lean way too back in an attempt to avoid the tip of his blade. Forced to complete a flip to guarantee your survival, you’re quick to block another blow from his sword. While you were confident in your own skills, Nakillos wasn’t your father’s heir for no reason.

Each of his offensive moves screamed of Garros. Like you were fighting your father instead of your brother.

He sliced at your shins then tried to slice your belly open in an upward strike with his right hand. Garros had trained all his children to use both hands with equal efficiency. It was one of the best ways to fight.

Even though it meant getting your ankle cut, you swiftly kick him in the face. Ignoring the searing pain that shot through your system. You clench your back molars to the point that they may crack under the pressure.

Nakillos is sent spiraling to the ground but he doesn’t so much as flinch. Blood trickles from his nose that he ignores to dodge you.

It was clear the both of you were equal in hand to hand combat.

You knew you had the upper hand though. Because you were fighting for her. For your Silver Goddess.

You let that quiet anger in you out of it’s cage. It stretched it’s legs before making your vision and thoughts go black.

You fed it with the blood of your brother.

Remembering every single time he was cruel to you. How he smashed your head into the ground and broke your arm when you were ten and one. Nakillos reveled in smacking you around. He even went so far as to have you train an entire day with glass in your boots.

Not realizing you were screaming until the fog in your brain cleared, you saw the damage you did already. His arms were cut up and there was a deep gash to his side that he held onto. The hand around his wound was already dripping with red.

Your own knuckles were covered in cuts varying from deep to superficial. That was the only area on your body he’d been able to scratch.

It made him furious. He let out a roar and charged. You wait until the last minute to fall off to the side and trip him with your foot.

When he fell face first into the floor, you leapt atop of his back and tried to stab deep into his spine. Nakillos however had enough strength and speed to flip himself over from underneath you.

He headbutts you right in the face.

Stars fill your vision as you tumble back. Your head was warm as you force yourself to regain your composure. In that time, Nakillos takes a swing at you that makes a large gash from shoulder to shoulder.

You feel the back of your head bounce off of the ground. At least your vision cleared for you to watch Nakillos sinks one knee on either side of your body.

He’s laughing a bit hysterically at your dazed eyes. “Did you really think it would end with me?” Nakillos smacks you across the face with the back of his hand as you struggle under him. “Even if you kill me, the others will come after you and your silver haired bitch.”

“Then I will do to them what I will do to you: I’ll kill them and present their heads to my queen on a gold platter.” You spit blood right into his eye and stab your blade into his cheek.

He howls, a horrible noise as he flings himself from you. His hands trembling to his face. The handle of your knife stuck straight out.

You didn’t waste time. Ripping a metal wire garrote from your belt, you swiftly loop it around his neck as you dance behind him. He gags before a horrible wet noise rakes from his throat. You tighten your grip and pull.

Nakillos kicks and fights against the sharp wire that was cutting into his neck. His fingers desperately dug at his muscular neck.

The others didn’t move, only watched in horror. They weren’t allowed to move due to Garros’ stupid code. One did not interrupt a fight. No matter who was winning or losing.

You grit your teeth as you viciously jerk back. It cut into arteries and veins alike producing a spray of blood to spring forth. His body is still jerking until you give the garrote one last twist.

Then all movement stopped.

Letting his body fall to the ground, you take a moment to finally get a proper breath. When you open your eyes back up they find Dany’s. Her face surprised you.

Instead of being in horror like everyone else, her eyes were sparkling and her cheeks were flushed. Daenerys was breathing laboriously. Her pupils were blown out from the scene.

You take up your blade once more and get to the messy task of cutting into Nakillos’ neck; severing skin, muscle, bone and tendon. They left you to your macabre work although you didn’t miss the low murmurs.

Forced to switch out blades three times, you finally were able to lodge his head free. His skin was slippery from the red loss of his life.

You go to Dany who is smiling at you.

“Sorry I don’t have a gold plate for this one, but I hope you’ll accept it.” you get down on your knees and offer it up to her.

Her eyes were starting to fill with tears as she smiles happily down at you. Dany’s fingers brush against your stick ones when she moves to take the head from you. She tosses it aside and with both of her bloody hands on either side of your face, she kisses you.

You don’t fight back. Not this time. Daario was right. Why were you fighting? Because of fear? That was stupid.

Her lips were deliciously soft despite their hungry claim on your mouth.

Someone off in the distance clears their throat and you turn around in annoyance.

“You’ve killed your brother.”

“Clearly.” You scoff.

“Do you know what that means?” Another intervenes.

The first man takes back the conversation. “By right you are now leader of Garros’ clan. You defeated the eldest fair and square. All his money and land belong to you as well as his men.”

You wave them all off. “Split it amongst yourselves and my other brothers. I don’t care.” Quick hands already had Dany’s gag off and her bounds cut. “Just as long as none of you step foot in Meereen again.” Flicking up deadly eyes, they nod and don’t fight you as you leave to go back home.

There was arguing in the council room when you and Daenerys returned. Both of you had been quite the sight walking through the streets.

Daario was off to the side, watching them all with a bored expression before he noticed you and Dany. His eyes widen at the both of you drenched in blood but he smiled.

“We’re wasting time-“

“Where is (y/)?!”

“Are the Harpies resurfacing again?!”

Daenerys clears her throat loudly and everyone turns around. “Hello, sorry for the trouble but as you can see I am fine.”

Tyrion gawks. “The. . . The blood. . .”

“Not mine.” She’s all smiles as she brings you to her side. “But (y/n) and I will be requiring a bath. Together.” Daenerys looks at you with hopeful eyes.

This time you don’t say no.

#daenerys targaryen x reader #daenerys targaryen fanfic #daenerys targaryen fanfiction #daenerys targaryen #game of thrones reader insert #game of thrones fanfic #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones #reader insert fanfiction #reader insert #a song of ice and fire fanfic #a song of ice and fire fanfiction #asoiaf fic #asoiaf reader insert #asoiaf fanfic #asoiaf fanfiction #asoiaf fandom

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arielchelby · 9 days

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Under the Same Stars / Ch 12 / Whatever You Tell Me, I Will Believe You

“It’s not about a girl and a singing tree,” she told him in a whisper, “it’s about a man who hears a woman's song coming out of a weirwood.” Her heart began to race, her mind catching up with her own words while the bard recounted a tale very much like her own. “The woman’s song is sad and mournful,” she translated. “‘I’m a woman of Valyria, the Children have stolen me over again, the tree seemed to say. I stood upon the hill, and the wind did rise, and the sound of thunder rose across the land.” Dany swallowed as her eyes misted. “I placed my hands on the white bark, and I traveled to a far and distant land where I lived for a time among strangers who became lovers and friends.’”

Breathless now, she wasn’t sure what was real and what was not.

“I know this story,” Jon said. “They’re always about maidens traveling far from home.”

Sorrow clutched her heart as the story continued to unfold. “But one day, I saw the moon come out, and the wind rose once more. I touched the weirwood, and traveled back to my own land.” Dany lay a hand over her heart as she took it all in. “She went back through the weirwood.”

“Aye,” Jon conceded simply. “They always do.”

Thank you @moondancer71 for beta reading!

Read here on A03

Ice & Fire Jonerys Discord Server

#jonerys #jonerys fanfic #jon snow #daenerys targaryen #jonerys fanfiction #jonerys moodboard #under the same stars #outlander au #Ariel writes

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lovebaela · 2 months

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THE DRAGON OF THE NORTH - MASTERLIST

(Bran Stark x Fem!Targaryen OC)

A/N - Not gonna lie yall, I’m more productive with this story on Wattpad 😭😭 I think I might stick with posting on there instead. The chapters I’ve posted here have been slightly changed there too. I’ll put the link of it below.

https://www.wattpad.com/story/367425499?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create&wp_uname=lovebaela

“ 𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒐𝒏 , 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝑶𝒍𝒅 𝑽𝒂𝒍𝒚𝒓𝒊𝒂 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒆 , 𝒊 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒏’𝒕 𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒅 .”

⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 𝑹𝑯𝑨𝑬𝑳𝑳𝑨 𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑮𝑨𝑹𝒀𝑬𝑵 ⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Rhaella is the daughter of Mad King Aerys’ younger brother. Before the rebellion of Robert Baratheon, he fled to the Summer Isles, where he fell in love with a woman. He married her and they both consummated their marriage. Rhaella doesn’t know much about her parents, and always struggled with having a true home. One fateful day, her cousin Viserys sent her away to the Starks. Little did he know, that was the start of her journey of self-discovery.

“ 𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝒂 𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒌 , 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑭𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝑴𝒆𝒏 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒆 , 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆’𝒔 𝒏𝒐 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒅 . 𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒐 .”

⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 𝑩𝑹𝑨𝑵 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑲 ⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Bran is the fourth child of Eddard Stark and Catelyn Tully. All he ever wanted was to become a knight. He always thought one day he would join the kingsguard. That was until the day he found out he was betrothed to Rhaella. He didn’t think much of it, still able to be a warrior…until the day he became broken. All he wants is to find a purpose now in his life.

✮ ₊ Chapters ✧ ᵔ₊ 𓆪

1, 2, 3, 4

Disclaimer: I don’t own asoiaf, any pictures, or gifs that I use in the series🤍

Art by eleneyaart, fredrickruntu

Dividers by @saradika-graphics @saradika

Taglist: @lover-of-books-and-tea

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bl00dlight · 7 days

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A Song of Shadow & Flame

CANON Dark! Aemond Targaryen x OC Targaryen. | SERIES

Warnings - Mentions of SA, child on child violence, graphic description, fatherlessness, Aemond gets fucked up, morally grey slay, questionable fathering, where are their parents?

Author's note ● Well, this is it. This is the last 124 AC chapter before we pick up six years later. Thank god, lets get to the SMASHING already!!! I just want to also state, that yes Visenya has raging father issues and yes that absolutely is going to evolve into something more disturbing, this may turn into a dead dove fic, purely because of the psychological fuckery I am about to pull. But hey, that's canon for ya. My girl has major problems. She IS going to make Aemond worse. Oh and this isn't edited, sorry for typos. I'll get to it later.

Word Count ~ 3.5k+

Index

i ● ii ● iii ● iv ● v ● vi ● vii ● viii ● ix ● x ● xi ● xii ● xiii ● xiv ● xv

vi ~ 'An Eye'

124 AC

They charged through the rock pools, making their way to the alcove which contained the lower passage into High Tide. Visenya had let go of his hand by now, she hadn’t muttered a word, too fuelled by adrenaline and disgust, but mainly shame. Shame for what Aegon did to her, shame she was too fearful to stop him.

As they came to the darkened impasse, Aemond’s hand reached to grasp her wrist, and Visenya’s eyes widened as she felt the warmth of his hand coil gently, a poor attempt at affection. She looked to him, her gaze one of shock… her heart swelled at the action, a glimmer of vulnerability in her eyes, though his beamed with uncertainty.

Aemond's gazed sternly at the Princess, her silver hair glimmering under the torch light. No one had ever retaliated against Aegon, especially not for him...no one had ever bothered – not even his father. Aemond’s gaze softened as he glared at her, he felt shame rear its biting head in him as he recalled how little he had done to do the same for her. His grip upon her wrist slid down slightly, until his hand met the palm of hers, enclosing like a shell, as if done in thanks. Though Aemond did not know how to say such things, how to express it. Even this felt terribly odd, his brow furrowed.

Stillness settled, and the two young Targaryen’s stood face to face, their hands intertwined. The princess was in shock, her eyes gleamed with a slight affection for a moment – something warm tugging at her chest before she met the hard and dour gaze of his. She felt herself grow disturbed by the action, suddenly snapping out of the moment and ripping her hand away.

“What do you think you are doing?” She whispered intensely, her expression darkening before she could gauge why. Visenya wasn’t even sure why she pulled away.

Aemond looked down at his empty hand and then, met her gaze, “You defended me.” His voice plain, clinical.

“No one will believe you.” She gritted her teeth, her eyes beaming with tears as she went to turn. Fear and guilt overcame her, she couldn’t let him see how such affection warmed her heart for she could barely admit it herself.

The young prince scoffed, “I did not intend to speak of it.”

Suddenly Visenya whipped around fiercely, her gaze mad, as though his actions upon her were cruel. Aemond grew confused as she stepped towards him once more.

“Do not do that again!” Her voice a harsh whisper.

“What?” The boy shook his head, watching as she narrowed her eyes.

“Did you think we were friends? I took pity upon you! Pity, because you are but a dragonless bellyacher who was made to fuck an old whore.” The words fell from her mouth before she could stop herself. She was livid and terrified of herself, she felt like a dragon gnawing at old bones. Visenya turned again as silence dropped quickly between the two.

As the princess turned, Aemond felt his heart shatter. He wasn’t sure what he felt for Visenya, what spurred him on to hold her hand, but her words confirmed everything he had already thought. Vain, spoiled, evil little… “Bastard.” He spat.

Visenya took a breath as the word rang, her heart felt like it had been ripped from her chest, as she turned her head to gaze upon his stiff and arrogant expression, “What did you say?”

“You are a bastard-“ Aemond’s brow flickered, tilting his head in a smug, flat gaze.

Visenya felt her rage pierce through her, her hands suddenly meeting his chest as she shoved him straight to the floor. Her gaze unrelenting, brutal as he looked up to her with a wrath so apparent his very face heated. Aemond rose to his feet, fists clenched as he grasped her arm with all his might, The Princess winced, his grip tight and unyielding.

Aemond felt something beyond his understanding burn through him, his gaze no longer cold, but heated by years of pent up fury, his words like knives as he twisted her wrist, “You and your pitiful brothers may shove or taunt me all you like. It changes nothing, Visenya! You are bastards born of your mother’s whoring.”

Visenya winced again, finding the strength in her to rip herself away as angry tears fell. She clutched the tender flesh of her wrist before her words came out with a desperate intent to hurt him, “And you are a dragonless, second son, who despite being a boy grown likely still wishes he could suck at his mother’s tit!”

“I care not for what the likes of a spineless slut calls me.” His voice cold as his demeanour was composed rapidly.

“Slut? You… did you just?” The princess coughed out, stuttering in disbelief as she clambered back.

“Indeed. Your behaviour is far suited to Flea Bottom than the Red Keep. You did not protest my brother’s leering upon you until he acted upon it. You weeped out of fear, once his attentions transcended your liking. However, any honourable woman would have refuted his comments in the beginning. Not you though, for you are vain and indulgent, so it is no wonder Aegon took a liking to you, he only pursues those who he knows shan’t say no.” Aemond’s voice matter-of-factly.

She nearly jumped upon him again, though his words made her ache beyond what she had ever felt. Shame beckoning through her like dragonfire, “You blame me?”

“Yes.” The prince nodded.

Visenya roared, lunched forward as she raised her voice, though Aemond did not flinch, “Your brother is a rotten degenerate, would you say the same if it were to happen to Helaena?”

The prince gave her a judgement look before speaking with arrogant clarity again, “It would not. My sister would not engage with such attention. Perhaps you should take after her beh- “

“Your sister is a witless doll!” She raged forward, tears streaming as she clenched her fist.

Aemond’s expression flickered with anger once again at her cruel words of his sister, his tone warning, “Do not speak against her.”

The young princess scoffed and laughed harshly, her tone outraged and contrasting his cool composure, “You have spoken far worse about my brothers and my mother! In fact, there are many things I might say, Uncle. Your brother is a lecherous craven, your grandfather a scheming traitor and your mother is a treacherous…. viperous cunt!”

Aemond felt his cheeks burn brighter, he wished to strike her… no to grab her by her hair and smash her pretty face against the rocks, watch it splatter upon the rocks. She was nothing, a bastard. A cruel girl with a wicked tongue; a whorish mother and a lech for a father. Before he knew what had happened he felt the harsh sting of his hand after it made contact with her damp cheek.

Visenya’s face turned, her hand clutching her cheek as tears fell. The Princess winced, his hand had whipped across her face so swiftly, leaving her no time to react. Slowly, her eyes met his and a long, bitter silence was exchanged before a familiar dark voice rang.

“Visenya?” Prince Daemon stood, cooly observing the two young Targaryen’s, his eyes glazing with a slight rage as it was clear he had seen the tail end of the events unfold. In fact, he had heard the bitter words of his daughter and nephew echoing throughout the impasse. His face stern as he looked upon his Visenya, then flickering to Aemond with a cold, warning glare. The young Prince took a step back, his eyes coming to the ground as he felt his uncle’s glare bore into him. Not him. Aemond thought.

Her eyes widened upon seeing Prince Daemon, his demeanour calm, unaffected as he extended a hand. “Come. Your mother sends for you, Princess.” Daemon’s voice carried softly throughout the cove, and Visenya said not another word before walking to him, gripping his hand as he led her away.

He brought her through the door leading into High Tide, she looked up, terrified. His gaze seemed familiarly dark as he dragged her along. Visenya whimpered, begging for him to look down upon her, to soothe her as tears fell, her heart filled with dread before she pleaded, “Please, do not tell mother… I.”

With a sudden grunt Daemon turned and forced them both into a shadowy nook within the hall, his hands forcing her shoulders into the wall as he looked down, he muttered lowly, “I care not for your murmuring Visenya. Not today. You swore you would cease this endless trouble making, and now I come to witness the Hightower boy provoked to the point of putting his hand upon you!”

Visenya shook her head, disarmed by him once again, “He-“

Daemon grabbed her chin, shaking his head as his words grew firmer, “Enough! Do you understand the difficulty that comes with me refraining from intervening? Nyke care daor qilōni fucking rhēdan ziry, nyke care bona ziry keliton lēda zȳhon ondos striking ñuha tala's laehurlion!” I care not who fucking started, I care that it ended with his hand striking my daughter’s face!

As he looked upon her frightened gaze, how the tears fell down his daughter’s sweet face, the grip upon her chin loosened as it came to cupping her cheek gently. Visenya continued to look up at him with simpering eyes, she understood her father’s wrath. This was his wife’s funeral after all, and here she was again causing more trouble than need be. Making matters worse within their House.

Daemon’s tone softened further, he sighed and regained a sense of authority, “So yes, I shall tell your mother, and yes you shall deal with the consequences, as shall the Hightower boy. I want justice and if I cannot seek it, Rhaneyra shall.”

The princess merely nodded at her father’s words, she watched his expression unfolded before her, feeling the warmth of his hands wipe her tears from her cheek. Daemon gripped her chin again, forcing her head to side so the light would catch upon her face, revealing what that little Hightower swine had done. He stroked the tender flesh as whispered cooingly, noticing reddening bloom upon her pale skin.

“Issi ao ōdrikagon?” Are you hurt? He crooned gently, still examining her face before pulling it to centre.

Visenya shook her head, her gaze and tone fierce, “Daor” No.

A wry smile came to the Rouge Prince’s face before he chuckled lowly, amused by his daughter’s stern front, “Nēdenka zaldrītsos.” Brave little dragon.

His gaze lowered again as he spoke more sternly, rage coiling within him as he thought to what his nephew had done to her, Daemon’s eyes met hers, “Se hembar jēda ziry raises iā ondos naejot ao, kessa sagon se mōrī ēza ondos.” The next time he raises a hand to you, shall be the last he has hands.

Visenya shook her head, a need to admit the truth of it; that it was she who incited the fight once again, “Nyke inditan zirȳla, kepa.” I pushed him, Father.

Daemon’s brow flickered in surprise, not of his daughter initiating the trouble – but for the odd look of shame within her eyes about it. He grunted lowly and scoffed before speaking, “I’d imagine he deserved it, dōna riña” Sweet girl.

Her gaze weakened, she knew the truth of it, and this time; no, Aemond didn’t deserve it. She was the one who was cruel to him. He had tried to reach out, tried to find some sense to her actions, letting himself display the faintest hint of vulnerability and she punished him for it. If Daemon knew… knew that she had let Aemond’s hand linger upon hers, felt such warmth in her chest, such overwhelming affection– he would surely look at her with disgrace.

Visenya leaned in as her father’s hand brushed against her face softly, before pulling her in to a swift embrace. The small affection he could only give to her when none other might be watching. She let him believe her to be innocent, to have been justified in her actions against Aemond. Just for the simple fact, it would keep this brief moment of shared love going. Just so she would not have to watch as his doting eyes hardened. Yet, there was a dull ache that settled in her chest, a pulling familiar to her. Guilt.

How could she admit that her own pride, was wounded so easily that she was able to use her tongue as though it were a blade. That she was able to shove him without remorse. Visenya locked away those threads of thought, locked them away so she did not have to face the truth. It was her who ached, not him. Not Aemond. No, she only meant to inflict her own pain back upon him, and did so, so that she might close her eyes at night peacefully.

●

Upon that very night, in the early hours of the mourn, Visenya laid in her chamber, sleeping soundly. She felt soft hands gripping her arm shaking her to wake. The muffled whispers, like gossamer in the air as the Princess groaned softly. Her eyes opening dazedly, seeing a glimpse of moonlight locks atop a small frame. Baela.

“Sister… sister wake up…” Her light voice fluttered as she shook Visenya further.

The elder princess stirred properly, slowly sitting up, “Baela…?” She yawned lazily and leaned back, noticing her youngest sister, Rhaena standing aside – the young girls expression frazzled.

Visenya felt herself shift upwards at her sister’s worried look, concern coiled as she whispered, “Sisters, has something happened?”

Baela nodded, “You must come… somebody stole Vhagar!” She exclaimed softly.

Before Visenya knew what had happened, she had haphazardly thrown on her night robe as her siblings dragged her out from her chamber. Her eyes widened further as the sight of her two brothers, stood in the hall.

“Jace? Luke? What are you-“The princess furrowed her brows, panic ensuing within her as her eyes flickered between the dark haired boys. The halls of High Tide were deathly quiet, with only the sound of the low rumbling tide to cover their whispers.

“Come sister, we must go! Somebody has- “Jace whispered softly in the darkened hall, before he could continue, Visenya stepped forward and shook her head.

“Yes I know, somebody stole Vhagar. I suggest we all go inform the Sea Snake.” Her voice firm as she looked upon her array of siblings. Their faces coiling in protest.

Jace gritted his teeth, challenging her, “No! We shall go ourselves.”

The princess swiftly leaned forward, gripping her young brother’s arm, she felt frustration burn through her, “I am in enough trouble as is, if something happens it shall be who is blamed for not putting a stop to this!”

Jace, with all his strength pushed at Visenya’s chest, forcing her away from him. The two exchanged a startled look before he cleared his throat and spoke again, “We are going sister. Come or don’t.”

Visenya simply stood in the hall as she watched her siblings disappear into the night, her gaze wide, shocked by Jace’s actions against her. Fine, if he were to treat her in such a way, let them go get themselves harmed! She thought, though as more time passed she could not help but feel that familiar pull of regret stirring. No, she couldn’t let them go by their lonesome.

Without another thought, she ran after them, looking around to see where they may had gone too. The Princess crept around the main halls of High Tide, peering to try and find her siblings. Logically, they likely went the route of the alcove leading out to the shore, she crept down the passages, hearing familiar voices echo.

“It’s him.” Rhaena proclaimed.

“It’s me.” A deeper one responded; the haughty spite rife on their tongue.

“Vhagar is my mother’s dragon!” She retorted back.

Her heart thundered as saw the warm glow of the opened door to the alcove, she knew it was her siblings in there, and the other voice, well, how could she not recognise his… Aemond.

“Your mother’s dead, and Vhagar has a new rider now…” Aemond beckoned.

Rhaena’s tone fierce, “She was mine to claim.”

As Visenya approached the door, her wide eyes were met with the scene. Her four siblings all opposed a smug Aemond, she peered through, wanting desperately to join in the confrontation, though she knew she couldn’t. Not with what had already happened today, not with her mother’s reputation already waning.

The silver haired prince raised his brow smugly, and sneered as he stepped forward, “Then you should’ve claimed her! Maybe your cousins can find you a pig to ride. It would suit you.”

Just as the words left his lips, Visenya’s eyes met his and for a brief moment she saw the anger increase tenfold as he noticed her gaze, so much so in the split second he had been distracted, Rhaena charged, growling at Aemond, instantly being thrown to the floor by him. Baela charged, punching him squarely across his pale face and he fell to the sand a low grunt leaving him.

Just as he had fallen he rose, with swiftly precision striking Baela, knocking her to the ground leaving her wincing. Aemond snarled, leaning over the young girl as she clutched her cheek, shuffling away from his hammering voice, “Come at me again and I’ll feed you to my dragon!”

In response, Jace charged but Aemond evaded his throws before the silver haired boy threw Jace to the ground – a sudden cry of Luke rang in Visenya’s ears as she watched with horror as her small brother lunged upon Aemond and his fist ram straight into Luke’s small face, forcing him too, to the ground. Luke’s cry filled the alcove before Aemond looked up again, scoffing as he saw Visenya peering once more. Suddenly, Jace lunched once more, pushing Aemond to the floor and one by one her siblings descended upon him.

She didn’t know what to do, nor why she couldn’t move or speak. It was like one of those horrid nightmares where she found herself unable to scream or unable to run – just awaiting doom to befall her. Her eyes locked on the sight, her four siblings kicked and punching at Aemond as he writhed upon the ground whining. Baela’s fist repeatedly struck him in the chest over and over again until Aemond managed to shove Jacaerys to the floor, then Baela.

As Luke raised his fist in anger, Visenya all but gasped as Aemond gripped her younger brother’s small neck she nearly stumbled down as she saw Aemond’s blooded face sneer.

His hand rising up with a large rock gripped, ready to strike Lucerys head. “You will die screaming in flames just as your father did!” Aemond proclaimed, his voice gritted and wrathful before he looked up once more, the word practically spat from his mouth, “Bastards.”

Lucerys weeped, struggling against his much older Uncle as he choked for the slightest full breath, his voice simpering “My father’s still alive.”

Just like that, a wry haughty expression came upon Aemond’s face, as he looked to Jace letting his hand fall to his side, “He doesn’t know, does he, Lord Strong?” The silver haired boy flashed a satisfied scoff before the sharp sound of an unsheathed dagger rang.

Visenya’s heart nearly dropped as she found herself finally able to move, her feet forcing her down the few steps as she looked upon the sight of her brother pointing a dagger to Aemond, she cried, “Jace!” Her feet soon reached the sand as she stopped herself, Baela and Rhaena looking over their shoulder in fear, cowering backwards as Visenya reached for them, swiftly forcing them away. The boys began fighting once more and Jace was back upon the sand whimpering when she turned her head.

As she did so, the princess stepped in front of her half-sisters and slowly moved towards Jace as he clambered on the floor. Aemond stumbled back for a moment, regaining his footing before raising the rock up over Jace, Visenya’s eyes widened in fear as she froze, unsure of what to do.

Her gaze came to Aemond’s pleading for him to stop and as he looked at her, her chest nearly caved in upon itself as nothing, but a breathy snicker left his mouth. He was taunting her, enjoying the look of fear and helplessness upon her face as he dangled the rock over Jacaerys’ head.

Neither he nor Visenya noticed as Luke picked up Jace’s dagger and suddenly a throw of sand made its way into Aemond’s eyes causing him to break the contact with Visenya and wince in pain. As he looked back, there Luke was her small, harmless little brother clutching the blade, standing before Aemond and with a fierce pained cry, Luke slashed the blade across Aemond’s face.

It happened in seconds, before she could even register the violence before her, she only saw how Aemond had toppled to the ground, the blood splattering upon Luke’s face. Their Uncle’s unfamiliar cries of pain filling the space as he clutched his face. She hadn’t seen what was truly done, but she did see the blood pool from beneath him, tainting the white sand below.

As the Ser Harold came thundering in, she felt the small body of Luke lunge into hers, his arms wrapped around her tightly, the stench of Aemond’s blood now staining her nightrobe. She slowly embraced her little brother, pulling him tightly against her, tucking him away as she watched the writhing Aemond.

For a brief moment the silver haired boy’s wide eye met hers and princess turned away from him, shielding Lucerys from the mess he had made.

○vii○

#hotd #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #got #daemon targaryen #rhaneyra targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen fanfiction #targaryen #daenerys targaryen #prince aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x oc #dark! aemond targaryen #canon aemond targaryen

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